3 Months after the War

The sun was shining overhead, the breeze calm and unruffled as Narcissa Malfoy lightly picked her way across the debris littering the grounds of Hogwarts, smiling to those who greeted her and merely nodding at those who tolerated her presence. Although she had not been asked to participate in the clean-up and subsequent restoration of the school, she had been more than happy to offer her assistance to McGonagall, who was one of few who knew of her efforts to help the Order and Voldermort's opposers; she had loved this school and still did. Draco had also volunteered himself, and as he was stationed around the corner, it had allowed them to reconnect and begin to heal some of the many wounds the two had.

However, someone else had helped Narcissa and her son in recent weeks, rather unexpectedly, and as she rounded the corner from the courtyard, removing her robes and shrinking them as she went, the woman laid eyes on the girl for whom she had grown to care for, and stopped.

Dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans was Hermione Granger, trying to pick up a boulder the size of a small table, without magic. Although she was trying to hide them -the T-shirt was evident of that- the bandages glared a startling white, as bright as the strongest of Patronus charms.

"Hermione," she rasped, and at the sight of her, the girl dropped the boulder in defeat and slumped against the wall. But before she could hit the ground, Narcissa was there, holding her as she began to cry, not caring in the least at the dirt staining her ivory jumper, nor her business slacks. She just held Hermione as she sobbed, the broken sobs that wrench out of you when something happens to family, to someone you love; Narcissa was intimately familiar with them, for she had cried like that when Draco got the Mark, and after he Battle, when Lucius had been taken from her and sent to Azkaban. Although he had done such terrible things, he was still the man she had loved for so long, deep down somewhere, if only he could change.

But all thoughts of her husband eddied from Narcissa's mind as Hermione whimpered, "It didn't work."

Saturday morning, two days ago

It was sunny and bright when Hermione and Ron apparated to the Granger's new home in Australia. When Hermione had mentioned her plans to restore her parent's memories, Ron had said he would go with her. After everything that had happened, Hermione had wanted a chance to mourn and re-centre herself before this great undertaking. She had talked to Headmistress McGonagall at great length, and had encouraged the young witch to take the time and try to restore what she'd lost.

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione turned her gaze from her parents large cottage at the end of the drive and turned to Ron, who was looking around with apparent interest.

"Ron, why don't you go get some ice cream or something? I really can't say how long this will take and it's not fair for to just sit with nothing to do. If I need you, I promise I'll come get you. To be honest, I think now that this is just something I have to do on my own."

"Of course, 'Mione. Whatever you need. Besides, I could never turn down an offer for ice cream."

She smiled, knowing this to be true. Hermione pecked him on the cheek and gave him directions -she'd researched the area in as much detail as she could out of curiosity, but also because she wanted to get a sense of who her parents now were. Ron smiled at her affectionate gesture, but in all honesty, it looked like a grimace. She brushed the thought aside and waited until he was just a speck of red hair in the distance before setting off across the pebbled drive.

Hermione knocked on the door and was almost instantaneously greeted by her mother. She had worried, that when she found her parents after all that had happened, she would not recognize them, or at least the pieces in them that made them her parents, but she needn't have worried. The last year had wrought little physical change in Mrs Granger, and it was in fact Hermione who was now forever changed. She blinked to steady herself and and recited the cover story she had crafted over the previous week.

"Pardon me for the intrusion, but my car broke down about a mile from here and I was wondering, if it's convenient, if I could borrow your phone to call someone to take a look at it? Because, of course, my cellphone had to break now, of all times."

Her mother smiled. "Of course, dear; it's in the kitchen. Honestly, if you ask me, I don't know why they made those newfangled things. The rotary phone was perfectly fine before, and it's still fine now. At least if you say on it, you knew it wouldn't break." She laughed and moved out of the way for Hermione.

In the pretense of politeness, she returned the laugh and said, "I'm Elizabeth," extending her hand. Of course, she had chosen the name in honour of one of the greatest literary women she knew.

Her mother took it readily. "Monica Wilkins. The kitchen is just over there," she said, indicating the space painted a bright teal blue. Moving to the staircase, she called, "Wendell. This nice lady's car broke down and her phone doesn't work so she's borrowing the phone."

Her father laughed and came down the stairs, a smidge of toothpaste still on his cheek. He smiled slightly at her. "You're not an ax-murderer, are you?" he joked.

"No, sir," Hermione replied. "Then again, I doubt anyone would answer in the affirmative if they did have ill intentions, in retrospect."

"Very true," her dad chuckled.

Hermione made for the direction of the phone but spun on her heel at the last moment, aiming her wand which had been concealed in her right sleeve at her parents now sat on the couch.

Murmuring a simple yet potent stunning spell, Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her jumper, sat on the low-lying coffee table, and began.

After four hours of spell work, Hermione we drained, physically and emotionally, yet had nothing to show for it. Deciding that she needed to do more, more research, ask more questions, make more notes, she again cast the Obliviate charm and left, walking down to the beach, intending to find Ron after she cleared her head, but it was unnecessary.

Ron sat on the beach, kissing some dark-haired girl, laughing as they shared ice cream. As if to mirror her raging emotions, the sky turned deepest grey, wind off of the sea billowing inland in great gusts and plumes. Ron looked up. Untangling himself from the stranger, who now stood up as well, Ron tripped across the sand towards her, palms out in apology.

"Hermione, I can explain," he beseeched.

"Don't bother, Ronald," Hermione began.

Sensing the tension between the two, the girl got up, thanked Ron for the ice cream and left, giving him a pat on the shoulder as she went.

"Do yourself a favor, Ron, and save yourself the trouble of trying to come up with some paltry excuse. Just go back to sampling all thirty one flavours and I'll let you out of whatever it is that we had, which you clearly don't want anymore."

"Don't be cruel," Ron remarked.

"Cruel? Cruel! How dare you! While you've been kissing some random stranger, I've been trying to get my parents back, who I gave up because of you and Harry, because it wasn't safe. You are my best friends, and I gave up everything for you, and I would do it again, and again, because I care. But you don't, do you? Why, Ron? Why is what you and I have not good enough for you?"

"Why?" Ron exploded. "Because my brother is dead, and I'm trying to grieve and move on, but I can't, not with you being all doom and gloom all hours of the day! Your parents are still alive Hermione, you didn't lose any of your family, yet you don't try to be happy anymore, not even with me. I just can't take it anymore. I can't be around you when every time I look into your eyes I see my brother lying dead in the Great Hall."

For a moment, Hermione just stopped. Stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped thinking. Then, like a mechanism that's been wound too tight, she erupted into life, shoving Ron in the chest -hard, but not enough to bruise; even if she was a steaming teapot of rage, should could never be like that to someone she cared about.

"Just because you don't share blood with someone doesn't mean that they aren't family! You should know that better than anyone! I loved Fred like he was a brother, and his death will be with me forever, as will the loss of every single student that I couldn't save. I'm sorry I'm not Little Miss Sunshine, all happiness and smiles, but I will not pretend to be something I'm not; I won't hide from my grief. If you'd thought about things from my perspective at all, then perhaps we could have fixed this, together. My parents. Us. Everything. But we can't, can we? I'm not the person you need to heal, and it's clear now you aren't the person I need either."

Hermione sighed. "We're done, Ron. Just go home, go back to the Burrow and the parents you still have. I have things to do."

And with that, Hermione spun around and headed for the cottage for the second time that day, unlocking the door with a muttered, "Alohamora." The Brightest Witch of her Age resumed her work and didn't stop, not for anything, not food or drink or sleep. She didn't stop until her hands were marred with bruises and blisters from gripping her wand. It was almost midnight on Sunday when Hermione put down her wand, removed some bandages from under the kitchen sink -her mother had always kept them there- snuck out of the house with the Wilkins none the wiser, having filled in the missing time for them, and apparated to the one place she could always call home.

After walking past the Anti-Apparition Point, Hermione knocked on the familiar door and asked if she could spend the night in her old room. McGonagall asked no questions and Hermione offered no answers as she went up the stairs to the Girls' Dormitory, sat on her old bed, and wept.

Author's Note: Hello fellow Potterheads! I'm sorry that there wasn't a lot of content in this chapter, but the scene must be set for all the fun things I have planned. This is my first Harry Potter fic, so I would love any and all feedback. Therefore, if you've got the time, please leave a review.

PS: Don't worry, Draco will make his debut in the next chapter.

Enjoy the rest of your day!

With love, Temperance