Chapter 7

"Why the hell would you tell him that?" Harry demanded.

Ron sighed as he sat down. He'd been listening to his best friend yell for half an hour, and he was growing tired of it. "This theory you have that their memories are gone," he interrupted, "what if that's for the best? They're happy together. Let it be, Harry."

"And our job?" Harry inquired. "I should let a Death Eater roam free because he might not remember what he's done? We have no proof that their memories are actually gone. This could all be an act."

Lying down, Ron shut his eyes and counted to ten in order to rein in his temper. When he felt calm, he spoke. "All we have are theories," he said. "Unless we somehow convince them to come back to England and get them to St. Mungo's, that's all we'll ever have. Harry, they've got kids. They've built a life here. Just let them have it."

"What happens if the memories do come back to them?" Harry wondered, feeling his anger deflate. "What happens to those kids when Mummy and Daddy hate each other again?"

"They'll remember the last five years. That won't change anything," Ron argued. "Whatever they think their lives were like before the war, they've had a long time to start liking each other We don't know what they think. All I know is they love each other, and we should stop interfering."

Harry sat down beside him, wanting desperately to believe that Ron was right. "She's our best friend," he murmured. "I just need to know that she's okay. For her sake and the kids, I will let this go."

Ron sat up, smiling, and clapped his friend on the back. "Good, then come to dinner," he suggested. "That Bradbury woman does a lot of their cooking, which is good if you remember just had bad Hermione was at it. Anyway, Draco invited me, and if you're on your best behavior, I'm sure I can finagle an invitation for you. The words 'I'm sorry' should probably come up before we sit down to eat though."

A blush stained Harry's cheeks red. "I doubt they would want me there," he mumbled. "The three year old hates me."

Laughing, the tall redhead got to his feet. "She's half Malfoy," he replied. "What did you expect?"

"For her to want to be friends with me in order to reach some higher goal or social standing, and to hate you for no reason other than being a Weasley," Harry said. Laughing, Ron threw a dirty shirt at his friend's face. "She's part Granger too, so maybe she doesn't completely hate me. Still doesn't mean it's a good idea if I come."

Ron exited the bathroom with a new shirt in hand. "So, you're going to make me go alone?" he asked, his eyes pleading and his lower lip pouting. "It's the Chamber of Secrets all over again, isn't it?"

Laughing, Harry vacated his friend's bed. "Wasn't I the one walking into danger that time?" he recalled. Ron scoffed; they had argued about this before. "Lockhart was no threat. The fifty foot tall basilisk was, and I defeated it. I win."

"Yeah, and then a bird saved your life," Ron muttered despite smiling. "Just get ready, would you?"

An hour later, they stood on the Malfoys' front porch. The pair were polar opposites. While Ron stood calmly and comfortably as he waited for the door to open, Harry sweated bullets. Hermione opened the door with a wary look in her eyes when she spotted them. "Um, Malf...Draco invited us," Harry said, his voice shaky.

"I know," she replied. "I didn't think you'd really show though. Come in."

Mrs. Bradbury smiled when they entered, but Clara, seated on her lap with a book, scowled. "He's not allowed," the little girl stated. "Mommy, make him go."

Hermione whispered her name harshly before instructing her to be polite. With a roll of her eyes, Clara dismounted her nana's lap and joined her father in the kitchen. "Sorry about her," Hermione murmured, embarrassed by her daughter's behavior. "Although, that apology will be rescinded if any wild accusations start flying."

"I swear they won't," Harry promised. Ron nudged him, earning a glare for his efforts. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have barged in here, saying what I said. I haven't really earned the right to have a second chance, but maybe I could have one anyway?"

That suspicious look returned to her eyes, but Hermione reluctantly nodded. "Just don't call me Mione," she stipulated. "I've always hated that nickname. I will admit that it's better than Hermie, but not by much."

Ron fought to keep his mirth at bay. "Hermie?" he asked, praying he would hear the story that accompanied the name.

"I learned the hard way that she hated that," Draco interjected, entering from the kitchen with his daughter on his shoulders. "Would you believe she poured juice in my lap?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she removed Clara from his back. "After a week of you incessantly calling me that," she said, keeping her voice sweet, but slightly menacing.

"You could have asked me to stop."

"And you would have listened?"

Charlotte laughed as the couple bickered. "It's always like this," she told the boys. They listened as the argument quickly petered out, but were blocked from a make up kiss by Clara's hands over her mother's mouth to prevent it. "That always happens too."

Harry sat down, intent on watching the couple interact. They did seem to love each other, but he expected that. He refused to let go of his theory, and wondered exactly which memories were removed and replaced. He then began to wonder why they would do such a thing. The people he had known during their Hogwarts days hated one another, and nary a kind word ever passed between them. Maybe Ron's theory of a third person wasn't far off.

"Stop," Ron warned, his voice low as he took a seat beside his friend. Harry shot him a dumbfounded look, but Ron Weasley knew better. "You're here to make amends, not investigate them."

"Old habits," his friend muttered.

Beside him, Charlotte glared, more angry with herself for inviting the pair into their lives. "So, how long do you two intend to stay in town?" she inquired. "I'm sure you've got families and jobs to return to. Or is this relocation permanent?"

Ron, who either missed her meaning or didn't care, responded first. "Actually, I quite like it here," he said. "People are much friendlier, and the food is good. I could stay here."

Harry's brows rose skeptically. "Your mother would never allow it," he retorted. "If we're not back next week, she'll fly here and drag us home."

"Is, um, are the two you a...um, a couple?" Draco inquired as the pair moved apart. "I'm not judging. Just curious, is all."

"Just friends," Ron told him, unfazed by the question. "He's engaged to my sister, actually, which seems like all the more reason to stay here. I'd rather be chased through the forest by spiders than watch them snog."

The married couple laughed, but Harry felt differently. He had no desire to remain in the small town, watching his friend live a life she shouldn't have. Though he wanted her to be happy, he wanted that happiness to be real. The life Hermione led was a false one in his eyes, and he would work to correct it.

Silence had descended upon the room and all eyes fell to him. He looked around, bewildered, before the question was repeated. "I'm going home tomorrow."