So, it's another relatively short chapter to this story. Hope you guys like it and don't forget to review.

I am not JK Rowling and do not own Harry Potter

Chapter Four: Sleepyheads

Susan Granger woke with a groan. She was still for a second, trying to get back to sleep. It was useless. She stood shakily, her balance somewhat impaired by her recent nap on the floor. That was when she caught sight of Hermione.

She only remembered who the girl was halfway through the blood-curdling shriek that was ripping its way out of her mouth. Unable to stop herself any other way she shoved her fist into her mouth and felt her teeth clamping down around it. She winced in pain, not quite able to believe that as a forty-nine year old woman, she had bitten herself.

She didn't focus on her own pain for long though. Her eyes were soon directed to the limp figure slumped against her dining room wall. Susan's subconscious mind had missed her daughter immensely and she fought back the tears that pricked against her eyes with difficulty.

Hermione looked a mess, sweat beaded her face, and her hair was hanging around her face in frizzy strands. Susan reached out a hand and tucked those stray strands behind her daughter's ears. She smiled when Hermione's sweet face twitched slightly as if in answer and then sank back into its unconscious state.

She supposed she should be slightly mad with her daughter for taking away her memory, but she couldn't manage it. Not at the moment anyway, Hermione looked so helpless and vulnerable lying there against the wall with her neck resting on her shoulder. Susan frowned, that looked like an uncomfortable position.

Wondering how long Hermione's neck had been resting like that, she wandered off into the house to find a pillow for her daughter. She would have carried her to a bed, but she wasn't quite sure she was strong enough to lift her daughter. Instead she returned with the softest pillow she could find and placed it gently behind Hermione's head. Her daughter didn't react, just shifted slightly to make herself more comfortable.

Susan wished that she could just sit there and observe Hermione, but she couldn't. Bill, or Wendell, as he was now known, would be arriving home soon and he knew nothing about this. She really didn't want to have to explain to her husband what Hermione was doing, asleep in their living room. At least not while Hermione's charm was still on him.

She frowned as she tried to think of a solution to her problem. Hopefully Hermione would wake up before Bill came home, but if she didn't….Susan decided that the best course of action would be to keep a lookout at the window and see whether Bill had arrived yet or not. She didn't know what she would do if she did see him coming, but she thought a little warning might be nice. Maybe she could throw a carpet over Hermione or something, to try and disguise her presence?

She sighed and picked the seat closest to the window, and began to watch, waiting nervously for her husband's arrival. Every now and then she snuck a look at her daughter, who looked almost peaceful in her unconscious state.

She looked at the cups of tea which still sat on the table in front of her, relatively untouched. An idea was forming in the back of her mind. She knew it would be wrong knock out her husband with drugs…but what other choice did she have? He was sure to kick up a fuss and alert the whole neighbourhood if he saw Hermione.

The whole unpleasant situation could be easily avoided if Susan just slipped some of the sleeping pills, that they kept on the top shelf of the pantry, into his evening cup of tea and that would be the end of it. He'd drift off and it would give Hermione an opportunity to remove her charm. All she knew was that it was a more humane way of doing things than just knocking people out with spells, like her daughter had done. Susan shook her head, Hermione never had been very subtle.

She'd have to tell Bill to go round the back though, or he'd catch sight of their daughter anyway and all her planning would be for nothing. Knowing that she'd have to get moving soon or it would be too late, Susan continued to stare at the table. She couldn't help it. There was so much to think on, all of her memories had been restored and it felt like sunlight had finally reached the darkened crevices of her mind. There were no more shadows.

She smiled happily and sank into her memories, completely unaware of where she was. Her plan was entirely forgotten as she drifted off into a waking dream. Hermione stirred, the sound waking Susan from her day dreams. "Hermione!" she exclaimed, waking her daughter fully.

"Hi, mum," Hermione said with a lazy half-smile. The rest had been so pleasant. She wanted to sink back into it, but the excitement of seeing her mother, with her memory fully restored, kept her awake.

Susan crossed the space between them and hugged her daughter tightly. Almost instantly Hermione felt safe, there was something so comforting and familiar about those arms. They were her refuge, her safe-haven, from her crazy hectic life. She felt protected in her mother's arms. She sighed, not wanting those arms to leave her ever again. Not wanting to feel vulnerable ever again.

The sound of the doorbell cut through the silent house, causing Susan to disentangle herself from her Hermione's arms with an apologetic smile. "It's you father," she explained to her now confused daughter. "Go hide yourself somewhere, anywhere. Just make sure he doesn't see you," Susan sounded almost frantic as she pulled Hermione off the ground and pushed her through the open door into the living room. The door slammed shut behind her.

She stood still on the other side of the door for a second, unable to decide where to go in this strange and unfamiliar house. Then she heard her father's voice drifting through the light wooden walls, "I thought I heard voices," he said suspiciously. The trudge of footsteps nearing the door told her that any second now they would be bursting into the room.

All hesitance disappeared and she scurried silently to the first open door she saw, taking care to close it softly behind her. She leaned against it, breathless even from her slight exertion, listening intently to every move that her parents were making in the adjoining room. She hoped that her mother had some kind of plan, because she most certainly didn't.