A/N – Okay, it would appear that I've surprised a few people. And here I thought I was being so incredibly OBVIOUS! I was so scared that someone was going to figure it out before I was ready for the big reveal... someone came close, but I hope I surprised him, too!

Yes, Maura is Hermione. Maura has ALWAYS been Hermione, this was not something I just thought up for this chapter. I'm hoping that it will be a bit easier to write her now, because it was bloody stressful sometimes wondering if I'd let out too much, but still trying to keep her in character.

To my wonderful reviewers who responded so promptly to the last two chapters (you know who you are) I simply cannot thank you enough. That last scene was incredibly difficult to write, and even as I posted it, I wondered if I'd gone too far. Your positive comments meant more to me (as I sat nervously in front of my computer, repeatedly hitting the "get mail" key to see if anyone had responded, or flamed me, yet) than you will ever know. Thank you.

I was thinking that the story would end when it was revealed who Maura really was, but in writing it, I see that there is so much more to be told. I will continue, until someone tells me to give it up already!

Now, this particular chapter didn't exist until this morning. Thanks to Texasjeannette for pointing it out to me in her wonderful review that Hermione had some healing to do – and I couldn't jump right into the fluff that is Harry and Ginny. That'll come next chapter; some loose ends must be tied up before we plunge into the future and the next war!

Once again, I own nothing. JKR is the queen, and I merely pay tribute to her...

CQ


Chapter Sixteen: Hermione Granger

It took several weeks, but eventurally Hermione got to the point where she wouldn't leave the room if it contained anyone other than Harry, Ron, Ginny or Molly. It was a few weeks later that she found she could meet the eyes of the person speaking to her. It took a while longer for her to stop crying herself to sleep every night.

She began to understand that what she had done, she had done unwillingly. Her failure to fight the power of the curse that Malfoy had cast was not her failure, but a regrettable event that she really had had no control over. The fact that it had been directed at Harry, and that she had jumped in front of it to keep it from hitting him, was something that everyone in the household took pains to point out to her. Harry especially.

Harry and Ginny, and Ron, were her strength during this time. Despite the floodgates of her memory having been opened, other memories continued to come back more slowly, and she seemed, for a few weeks anyhow, to walk around in a constant state of surprise about something.

It was especially difficult, at times, to be around Ron. Their relationship had always been... uncertain. She loved him with all her heart, but found herself teetering between the comfortable love and compatability of very close friends and the uncomfortable, unsure, tongue-tied regard of someone who wants more, but doens't really know if they want to risk what they already have. And she had no clue as to how Ron felt.

At least she had finally figured out her feelings for Harry.

With her new memories, she realized that her joy and comfort in his company, what she had mistaken for physical attraction, was something that had always been there. Their platonic, almost sibling-like love for each other was a great comfort to her during this extremely trying time, as it had been for Harry throughout their school years together. Hermione was grateful, and knew that, despite not being fully aware of who she was yet, she needed to discuss her earlier actions with Harry, or it might always be a source of discomfort between them.

So, being Hermione, she cornered him one night after dinner in his study.

"Harry? Can we talk?"

He looked up from his desk and the stack of paper he was reading and smiled. "Of course. Come on in."

She did, and when she closed the door and cast a privacy charm, he looked at her curiously. "Something up?"

"I need..." she took a deep breath. "I need to apologise to you."

"To me? What for?" He looked surprised.

"Harry, when I first arrived here..." she took another deep breath. This was turning out to be much more difficult than she thought. She felt her cheeks go pink. "When I first arrived here, after I got over the initial shock, I felt a connection to you, and I'm afraid that I might have misinterpreted..."

Harry smiled knowingly and leaned back in his chair, as though he knew what was coming, but also knew full well that she needed to say it, and he wouldn't be able to stop her.

"Harry, I said and did some things, based on what I thought was my..."

"Mione, it's okay."

"No, I need to explain."

"I understand," he said quietly.

"You do?"

"Of course. I was confused by my feelings for you, as well."

"You were?" she was shocked.

"Yes. I knew who you were, underneath. But... well, you'd had seventeen years to grow from an eighteen year old girl into a person I didn't know. I was intrigued by that person. And, you didn't look like Hermione. It was... well, it was disconcerting."

"I..."

"Mione, Maura Kennedy was a very attractive woman. There was... well, I guess there was a sense of mystery about her. In essence, you weren't Hermione Granger anymore. Also, well... I never thought for a minute that Ginny would ever..."

Hermione smiled, "Okay, Harry."

He looked up at the tone of her voice. "What?"

"It's okay to hear your reasons for feeling attracted to... me... Maura...whatever," she grinned, "But I don't know if my rather fragile ego can take being told that you wouldn't have even considered looking twice if you thought you'd had a snowball's chance in hell with Ginny."

"Mione..."

"Harry, I recognize the feelings I had for you now. I didn't before, because I had no context. I've been alone for most of my life, and I didn't know what 'family' meant. But I know now that what I felt for you, what I mistook for something... more intimate, was really... well, sisterly."

"Despite my being able to, well, I believe the term was 'stop traffic'?" he grinned at her, teasing.

She giggled, "Despite that. You are a very attractive man, Harry Potter."

"Too bad about my personality, huh?" he laughed.

Hermione laughed with him. "Very attractive, and not just physically."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, "That's what all the gorgeous women say."

Hermione blushed at the compliment, then remembered who it was she was talking to. "Harry, you once told me that you would be my big brother, if I ever wanted one."

Harry smiled, "Seventh year, right after..."

"Right after I lost my parents," she confirmed at his pause. "Harry, I've lost seventeen years of having a family. I'd kind of like... well, are you still up for being my big brother?"

"For you, Mione, anything," he confirmed.

Hermione smiled, then stood. "Well, I've taken up enough of your time..."

"Mione?"

"Yes?"

"How are those memories coming?" he asked quietly.

"Well..."

"I only ask because... well, our relationship isn't the only one that hasn't really changed, despite the time and... confusion."

Hermione blushed, knowing full well what Harry was talking about, but feeling rather uncomfortable talking about it.

"Mione?"

"Harry, I know what you're saying, but I just... I just need some time."

"Of course you do."

"I've embarrassed myself enough for one day, I think."

"Just remember," he stood and came around the desk to her, pulling her into a brotherly hug. "There is a reason why he never married, Mione. And I think he's just as..."

"Harry?" she leaned back, looking up into his dark green eyes, her own misty with unshed tears. "Not now, okay?"

He looked into her eyes, seeing the pain and confusion there, and then hugged her close once again.

"Okay," he whispered into her hair. "Okay. But I'm here if you need me."

"Thanks," she sniffed into his shirt.

"Hey," he smiled against the top of her head. "That's what big brothers are for, right?"


Two weeks later, after spending a lot of time talking to Ginny, Molly, Harry and Ron, and even one long conversation with Bill Weasley, she was beginning to accept that being Hermione Granger wasn't such a terrible thing. She was getting much stronger, and she actually laughed a few times.

Harry and Ron, after paying a visit to Gringotts one afternoon, called her into Harry's office.

"Harry?" she entered after being told by Ginny that the two wanted to see her. "Ron? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Ron smiled. "We just need to do something, and we need to do it together."

"Two things, actually." Harry said. "We need to go out for a while... and you need to come with us."

"Okay," she looked at each of them, unsure of what was going on. "Now?"

"If you're ready," Harry confirmed.

"I... sure. Do I need a jacket?"

"No," Ron said. "We shouldn't be long."

With that, he held out his hand to her, and she took it, still confused. She was surprised when Harry took her other hand, and nodded to Ron. Instantly, she felt the odd feeling of apparating, and closed her eyes to keep from getting nauseous.

"Mione, we're here."

She opened her eyes, and saw that they were standing in a shady glade. The trees around them were tall, oaks and elms and sycamores, and the grass beneath their feet thick and dark.

"Where are we?" she asked in a small voice.

"Mione, it's time for you to say goodbye to someone," Ron said quietly.

She looked up at him, then beyond him to where a small white headstone rested under a willow.

"Dumbledore?" She asked.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "We're here with you, Mione, but we'll stay back here. You need to do this."

"I know," she nodded, letting go of their hands with a quick squeeze. "I know. I just don't know how."

"It helped me..." Ron said, avoiding her eyes and speaking quietly. "It helped me to just talk about the final battle, and tell him all the things...well, that I wanted to say when he was around, but that you just don't say to someone for no reason."

She nodded.

"Just talk to him, Mione. He'll hear you." Harry said.

With tears in her eyes, and a quick glance at both of them, she walked slowly towards the grave. How was she to do this?

In the end, she was surprised at how easily it came to her. What surprised her was, she knew what his responses to her were. It was almost as thought she was hearing them in her head.

"Professor," she said quietly, after she knelt down next to the gravestone. "I don't know if you can hear me..."

I hear everything.

"I miss you. And I'm sorry for... for my part... that day..."

I told you to remember, Hermione. Do you not remember?

"You've already forgiven me," she whispered. "You forgave me even as I did it."

Yes.

"But I don't know how to forgive myself," she said.

You need to allow yourself to believe that this happened for a reason. That your part in it was your gift, not your curse.

"What possible reason could there be to rob the world of the most powerful wizard, the best chance, we had?"

To allow the next to take his place. The more powerful wizard. I can admit it, he is much more powerful than I ever dreamt of being, but he couldn't step forward and fulfil his destiny while I was there, for others would not have followed him.

"I had to kill you so Harry could live?"

No, you did not kill me. You cast the curse, but I would have died that night, no matter who had done that. Imagine how much harder this would have been if Harry had been hit by Mr Malfoy's Imperious curse. Imagine how much harder it would have been for the magical world to follow the one that they felt had done this terrible thing.

"So I had to be the one?"

You chose to be the one, when you took Mr Malfoy's curse for him. You and Mr Weasley both told Harry repeatedly throughout your years preparing for the final battle that you would do anything for him. This was your destiny, Hermione, your part to play. You have saved the magical world by allowing Harry to remain the hero and lead our world.

Hermione looked back at her friends. Ron and Harry, sitting on the grass with their backs to her, giving her the privacy she needed to do this, but understanding that she wouldn't wish to be observed doing it.

"Thank you," she said simply. "I'm not sure if you really can hear me, or if I'm just ready to forgive myself, but I thank you, Professor, for everything. Everything you taught us, everything you did for us. For Harry. Thank you."

Be happy, Hermione Granger.

She sat there for a few moments longer, then smiled.

When she returned to the men, it was obvious they hadn't heard her, but they were silent, sitting watching the sheep grazing in a distant field. Hermione wondered if Dumbledore had chosen this spot or if Harry and Ron had, and why.

"Why here?" she asked suddenly.

"Sorry?" Ron jumped, startled by her presence.

"Why did you bury him here?"

"This was where he wanted to be," Harry said. "He left the coordinates in his will. Apparently, he wanted to look out over this scene for eternity."

"What is down there?"

"Look closely," Ron advised.

She looked, and realized that out beyond the fields of sheep and green rolling hills, in a valley, stood Hogwarts. Sighing, she sat down between them.

"I'd want that, too," she said. "It's... fitting."

"We thought so," Ron grinned.

"You...?"

"Dumbledore didn't want a service, at least not a traditional one," Harry explained. "Many, many drinks have been raised to his memory over the years, and he would have been fine with that. His final instructions were that Ron and I and Ron's brothers take care of the... necessary arrangements.

"We came out here, to where he specified, and dug the grave. Aberforth and a few members of the Order were the only ones other than Ron's family who attended. No one else knows where this is..."

Ron sighed. "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

"Wasn't easy," Harry agreed. "But it was the way he wanted it."

"Where was I?" she asked quietly.

"At the school, in the infirmary."

They sat in silence for a while, before Ron stood.

"Time to move on," he said, holding his hand out to her.

"Home?" she asked.

"In a way," he smiled.

Again, she held hands between them, and closed her eyes, trusting them to take her where she needed to go.


"We're here." Ron said.

Hermione opened her eyes to find herself back in the room that Harry had apparated them to the day that he took her to Hogwarts.

"Ron? Harry?"

"This is your home, Hermione. I told you that day..." Harry said. "When you were... changed, the title was given by Gringotts to Ron and I. In essence, you died that day, and your will was put into effect."

"I don't want..."

"Hermione, this is a place of healing." Ron said. "It helped you through losing your parents. You need to find that again."

"Ron, I don't want to be alone!"

"Hermione," Harry took her shoulders, turning her to face him and look into his eyes. "You never have to leave Potter Manor. It is your home for as long as you wish it to be. But this place, this is your cottage. Ron and I, we never lived here, no one has lived here since you left. It is yours. Treat it as a cottage, a bolt hole, whatever you need it to be, but it is yours, and it can help you to heal."

"Can I still stay with you?"

"For as long as you want to," Harry smiled. "That won't change. Ever. But this place... it's your place. Understand?"

"Yes," she said quietly, nodding. "Yes. Thank you."

"Now," Ron stated. "Can we go eat? I'm starving."


Ah, my reviewers...I get such a boost from your comments! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

James Milamber: You're kidding me? I was absolutely certain that you had it figured out! No, she's ALWAYS been Hermione... That was one of the original premises of the story. Actually, I was going to end the story there, but with the incredible response I've had (due in no small part to you, thank you!) I've realized I can get away with continuing. And as for your earlier kind comments, according to the publishers I've submitted other work to, "crap" is ALL I write. I've got enough rejection slips to wallpaper a room. I wanted to be a journalist when I was young and impressionable. Then when I joined the staff of a paper, I realized just how much of it is all about spin, and decided that it wasn't for me. Then I joined a periodical, and found it only got worse. I, too, turned to writing fiction... for my own amusement for the most part. This is my first fanfic... and has been an absolute hoot to write.

Texasjeannette: You know, I was going to skip ahead a few months, after the revelations of the last chapter, but your comments have made me see that I can't get away with not showing Hermione's recovery and healing from this, and how those around her respond. Therefore, this one's for you!

Azntgr01: I thought I might have given it away at the end of Chapter 14 with the "secret keeper" comment, maybe that's what made you think of Hermione.

Pirate grlEe: Thanks – it's the twists and turns that make a story, right?

Lalaluu: Well, you know, I kind of wondered if it wasn't coming across... I thought at times that the things she said and did (and how she said and did them) HAD to give it away!

Merlindamage: Well, we'll see. I like the idea of Ron sweating a bit...

Larna Mandrea: You have no idea of how difficult is has been to keep it all straight! Now that it's out, I hope the writing will go easier. Thank you so much for your kind comments, it means a lot!

Shotgunn: Page three of the Sun is legendary, even in Canada. Reviewing your piece was no hardship – I am really enjoying the story. And we might get a new chapter... when? Also, the PM was fully aware of the existence of Harry's world, but politics, you know... and besides, he and the majority of the members of the House of Lords are dead, anyhow. How's that for British social commentary? (I'm ducking....)

Saerry Snape: HAH!!! Gotcha! Fluff is good. At the core of it, I think the HP books are about love, and the different effects that a lack of it can do to people. They're also about tolerance, and celebrating our differences, and all the joy that can be ours in life, if we just understand that bad stuff sometimes comes with the good. That, to me, is the core of why stories with "fluff" are generally well-liked... because none of us can really do without it.

Katherine Rose: Thanks – I've been having such a good time writing this that I find it hard to NOT write... as you could tell if you could see the state of my kitchen right now. I have an eight year old gnawing on my arm because he's hungry... and my husband asked me last night if he could PLEASE get some clean underwear today... oh well, when the muse is active, one must follow it!

CQ