ALLERFORD, SOMERSET, ENGLAND
Continued

An angled rectangle of light broke the darkness in Hermione's room, highlighting the chest of drawers and the end of her bed.

Soft snoring could be heard from the mountain of covers. Christie paused and then shrugged his thin shoulders. Nothing else for it. He flipped on the light and marched over to the bed, shaking the lass's shoulder until she started to sit up.

It's fun, aye, waking people up.

Hermione blinked owlishly up at Christie, her head peeking out of her nestle of quilts. "Wha'sit?" she asked around a yawn.

"It's time t' get up, missy, that's what."

Hermione slumped back down on her pillow and pulled her covers back over her head.

Christie sat on the empty edge of the bed and bounced up and down. "Wake up, wake up, wake up," he cajoled in a sing-song voice.

Hermione grumbled and sat back up, kicking him away with a half-hearted groan. "What are you, five?" Christie only grinned. "Fine," Hermione huffed, "I'm up, you old goat."

Christie leapt to his feet and bounced on his toes. Crossing the room, he stooped and grabbed a pair of trainers off the floor and tossed them at her feet with a light thud. Hermione looked up at him from the edge of the bed as she yawned. "Hurry up," Christie called over his shoulder, and then strode through the open door, a definite swagger to his steps. Hermione shook her head, a small smile on her face. It was hard to stay mad at him.

Hermione stood and stretched, then rubbed her head, making her curls stick out all over the place in the process. She made it into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. That helped drive away the remaining cobwebs. Looking up, she groaned at the state of her hair. It was as bushy as it ever was, only now it resembled a helmet instead of...well, the unholy terror it had always been.

Hermione turned on the hot water tap and quickly went through the motions of brushing her teeth, then scooped up handfuls of water to wet her hair. She towel-dried her curls carefully and then left with only a parting glance in the mirror.

Her steps slowed as she neared the end of the hallway, where Professor Snape and Christie stood waiting. Hermione's arms crossed over her chest as she stared down the man in black.

"Are you quite ready, Miss Granger?" Severus asked, his face an expressionless mask.

Hermione's eyes darted towards Christie, who was grinning from ear to ear, back to Snape. "What do you mean?"

"There's a Order meeting tonight."

"An...Order meeting," Hermione repeated, taken aback.

"An illegal portkey," Christie announced, his eyes shining with gleeful mischief.

Hermione stood stock still, staring at them both.

She then noticed the slightly mangled yellow Frisbee Snape held in his hand. Her feet had a will of their own and without realizing, she was standing next to them. All she could think of was seeing everyone again. Butterflies and anticipation made her breathless. After a quiet passkey, the portkey began to glow and vibrate. After everyone had one hand grasped on the old frisbee, the glow became brighter, and then, all of a sudden, she felt the familiar but jarring hook behind her bellybutton, reeling her in. She wrenched her eyes shut. Portkeys had never been a favourite method of travel.

And they were away.

NEAR GAIRLOCH, HIGHLANDS, SCOTLAND

It was a bit of an unsteady landing. A strong hand held Hermione's elbow and kept her from sprawling to the ground. Catching her breath and regaining her balance, she looked up into black eyes as her former professor let go and then turned from her, focusing his attention on Christie, who was very wobbly on his feet.

Hermione offered Christie an arm to lean on. "Are you alright?" she asked, trying not to look back up at Snape.

"Am I alright?" Christie asked, delighted and stumbling at the same time. "Besides me legs impersonatin' a spoonful o' jello, I'm perfect."

Hermione shook her head and eyed her surroundings, her stomach one tightly-coiled knot of nerves. They were standing in a partly-shadowed patch of grass. As the view of the curve of the hills and the ancient trees sunk in, a realization swept over her and she sucked in a breath. "I've been here before."

Severus turned. "You've...been here."

Hermione nodded, absolute in her assertion. "When...I escaped. This is where Draco brought me. I kept fading in and out of consciousness, but I will never forget leaving this valley when the sun started to come up after that long night. He promised to come back; I waited throughout the night, but.…" She bit her lip at the memory. "At the time, I thought he must have been killed for helping me to escape."

Severus ground his teeth together. "It was foolhardy of him to leave you without giving you the address and taking you to the safehouse himself."

"I was barely conscious, from what I can remember."

"He should have sent a Patronus to someone. My guess is he was too emotionally exhausted." Snape sighed. "He must have been called away very urgently by his father. Lucius is never to be trusted." He paused. There was nothing any of them could do to change the past. "Draco was working late last night and still doesn't know his father modified his memory. That won't be a pleasant revelation. Please allow me to break it to him, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded and continued to look around. How absurd her luck was. She had been so close. It was maddening, but, taking a deep breath, she tried to let it go. It was over now.

The view was just as staggering as Hermione remembered it to be.

They stood in a wide meadow, surrounded on all sides by mountains and trees so old, they could have been planted by the founders of Hogwarts. Fog was heavy in the air, hugging the ground. At this time of the year, everything was brown and going into hibernation. It was a different kind of beauty to the flourish of spring and summer, but not less so. The landscape was such it made you want to turn in a circle to take it all in.

Christie leaned against Hermione, staring around as well, a look of wonder lighting up his face. He let out a low whistle. "Wellll, I'll be," he whispered under his breath.

"Memorize this address," Severus said, handing them a tiny slip of parchment.

Hermione read the address over and over, then closed her eyes, repeating it inside of her head: Billey Bend, Slattadale Forest, Scotland. When she opened her eyes, she froze. A log cabin was set back against a line of trees near a creek and rose three stories off of the ground. Across the expansive yard, the cabin's porch was crowded.

Hermione's heart nearly flew out of her chest. A sharp intake of breath later, she was drinking in all of their faces, biting her bottom lip hard. She was brimming with joy, but also overwhelmed.

They were so different from before; harder, fiercer, but so dear to her. Molly, pale and stooped over, had lost a great deal of weight and her extra skin sagged on her frame. Molly's face was buried in her apron, her shoulders, those temples of motherhood, were shaking as she sobbed. The twins, oh, bless them, were on either side of their mother, bearing her up with matching exuberant grins on display. Freckles were so thick across their faces now they appeared to have tans. Taller and now broad shouldered, they almost looked grown up, but surely that was as misleading as a hinkypunk.

Neville surprised her, a head taller than everyone else, and sporting a dark blond beard that any sportsman would be proud of. His blond hair had grown out well past his shoulders and he wore it tied back in a loose ponytail. His eyes were narrowed; he looked troubled to her, and as they made eye contact, she couldn't read his eyes.

Draco stood behind Ginny. He looked older, tired, tense. His hair, once so fussy, was now casual and hung down in his eyes. Both of his hands rested on Ginny's shoulders.

Ginny.

Long red hair flew back as Ginny half-ran, half-stumbled to Hermione's side. Ginny's face was blotchy and it was obvious that she had been crying hard for a really long time. Ginny crushed Hermione in a hug and held on tight, broken sobs escaping every few seconds.

Clinging to each other, everything else faded away. Hermione knew Ginny was crying as much for Harry as for her. But that was okay. Hermione cried for Harry, too.

When Hermione's hiccups finally subsided and Ginny finally stopped shaking, Hermione leaned back and gazed at Ginny, who was wiping her eyes with the edge of her robe.

"I'm sorry to blubber all over you."

Hermione shook her head. "Anytime." She laughed, and swallowed the rising lump in her throat, squeezing Ginny's forearms. "I can't believe I'm really here."

A look of naked guilt covered Ginny's face. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. We-we really thought you were..." she trailed off, and bit her lip. "We would have never stopped looking for you for a second if we had known. Even Snape believed..."

Hermione nodded, pushing down whatever lingering bitterness she had. Unable to speak, she nodded again, and then let out a tired sigh.

Ginny's voice was raw as she tried to ask the question that had been plaguing her since the night Voldemort disappeared with Harry and Hermione in his grasp. "Harry...?" Ginny swallowed thickly, and Hermione reached for her hands.

Harry would never forgive her if she let Ginny know even a fraction of the hell he'd endured. "In the end," her voice came out in a hoarse whisper, "his heart simply gave out on him. He's...he's at peace, Gin, I can feel it. He...he loved you so much."

Ginny closed her eyes and nodded, her face pained, but much more stoic than before. Hermione pulled the younger girl to her without another word, rubbing her back softly. It was comforting to Hermione that she could do something for Harry. A weight lifted off of her shoulders. She could protect Ginny for him. She could say his goodbyes.

Ginny pulled away, wiping her eyes, and then sounded much more like her old self. "Come on, Mum's been cooking since last night when we got the news from Snape. Everyone is dying to hear what you've been up to."