Chapter 9

I barely open my eyes before the events of last night hit me, causing embarrassment to flush over my otherwise warm and comfortable body. As I take in the yellow walls of the Shacklebolt residence's guest room, I can't help but think that I ruined what could have been a remarkable memory by jumping to conclusions. Fueled by my relentless insecurities that regarded both my ability to help my parents and my physical physique, I turned what could have been the night of first uninterrupted exploration into the night that we almost had our first row as a couple. Admittedly, it was primarily the latter insecurity that kindled the angry fire that was sparked by Ron's sweet rejection. I bite my lip in frustration, wishing that I could merely trust that I was good enough in that sense. Unfortunately, the objects of Ron's prior affections include a part Veela woman and one of the prettiest girls in Gryffindor, which is something I pettily remind myself of whenever the man compliments me. If I want the physical aspect of our relationship to progress, I need to let those anxieties die.

Decided on that front, I put the night behind me, checking the time by glancing across the other side of the bed, which was empty despite my secret preference for it not to be. 10:30 A.M. We had retired around 3 that morning, which would have allowed a decent interval of sleep if it weren't for my mind's constant churnings about my parents. Presently, I sit up and rub my weary eyes, just now noticing the aroma of cooking bacon. Having only eaten a few forkfuls in the past fourteen hours, my stomach reminds me of that basic need, and I am thankful to have distracted Ron from his alternative objective last night. I dress in a modest outfit that my mum had given me last Christmas, hoping that it would help bring back the memory if the task proved to be harder than everyone (excluding me) expected.

I walk to the dining room, only to be surprised by the fact that Ron had already beat me there, which was remarkable since he could sleep all day if not forcibly woken up. Perhaps sensing my astonishment, he says with a sheepish grin, "I couldn't sleep. Figured I'd help with the cooking."
Indeed, the display of food seems very much of Ron's doing, both in quality and quantity. "No one around here is much of a cook," Layla volunteers from her seat at the table while shooting her parents an apologetic look. "So imagine our surprise when we woke up to the smell of all of this."

"I'll have you know that I can microwave a mean TV dinner," an older woman laughs infectiously, her sparkling eyes somewhat obscured by an ornate violet sunhat. She stands from the table to extend her hand to me. "Opal Shacklebolt. Pleased to meet you, Miss Granger!"

"Likewise!" Upon shaking her hand, I offer the same to the elderly man sitting beside her. "And you are, sir?"

"I'll reveal that in due time," the man said, eyeing my hand with suspicion. Ron gave me a sympathetic look. It appears that he was received with the same lack of enthusiasm.

"Dad!" Layla exclaims crossly, now looking at me in apology. "I'm well aware that she is exactly who she claims to be." I feared the worst, sensing the older man's hostility. Had this family been attacked by disguised Death Eaters?

"Don't mind him, Daddy is just mad that I tricked him into having breakfast with my boyfriend a couple of mornings ago. Polyjuice Potion can really do the trick when you're caught trying to sneak out in morning," chuckled a vaguely familiar girl that looked a bit younger than Ginny. "I had him convinced that Layla came home a few mornings early, which was easy enough since she never bothers to clean the hairbrush she leaves here."

"Do I know you from somewhere?" I inquire as I sit down at the table next to Ron, gliding over what could have sparked anger from her father or slight embarrassment from Layla.

"The name's Katrina. Going into my fifth year as a Ravenclaw a year late since my parents forced me to skip last year because of the war," she informs me in her Australian accent. "Cousin Kingsley insisted that I go to Hogwarts over a Muggle school here."

"Oh yeah, you were a Chaser on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, right?" Ron asks, his face suddenly alight with an interest that makes the decidedly un-athletic part of me squirm a little.

"Correct, Your Majesty," she references with the impish grin of a youngest child.

Between the warm hospitality of most of the Shacklebolt family and the delicious meal Ron had prepared, my thoughts were temporarily drawn from my parents as I opted to fill my empty stomach. After a certain interval of time that the patriarch deemed long enough for the effects of Polyjuice Potion of wear off, he informed us that his name was Christopher and that he had to head to work. His departure was sufficient enough to remind us of our own tasks, and the light conversation became heavy as it shifted to include the topic of my parents.

"Do you reckon that Hermione's parents are at work right now?" Ron whispers to Layla and I with a shade of reluctance. I grab his hand under the table, as if to confirm that I am comfortable with the turn of the conversation.

"We can look into the dentistry office hours, since I know where it's located," suggests Layla as she stands to collect the dishes. I mimic her actions, following her into the kitchen. "Hermione, you're my guest. Don't worry yourself with this."

"It's the least I can do to repay you for your hospitality, and Ron already did his part by cooking the food," I assure her, smiling to myself at the latter half of my statement. His thoughtfulness continues to surprise me, although I wouldn't be astounded if he was more inspired by his hunger than his gratefulness for the family's hospitality.

"This is true! Whoever ends up with that boy will never go hungry," she says with a grin as she turns the water faucet on to a hot temperature.

The comment makes me blush in a way that can't be contributed to the steadily growing heat of the water running over my hands. We wash the dishes in amiable silence, although thoughts of my parents continue to fester in the back of my mind. By the time we have completed drying the final dish, I admit quietly, "I don't know if I'm ready for this."

The older woman places her dark hand on my shoulder comfortingly. "Your parents love you, Hermione. They will be thrilled to see you alive and well. You have nothing to worry about!"

'If only she knew,' I think to myself, glancing at her stable hand. Her kindness and wealth of experience working at the Ministry of Magic tempt me into telling her everything. After all, she could very well perform the reversal spell better than I could, given her advantage in years and training. However, I bite my tongue, trying to reassure myself that if I got myself into this mess that I can get myself out of it. Besides, as friendly as she is, I don't know if knowledge of my performance of dark magic is something she could ethically hold in confidence. Far be it from I to encourage anyone to break the law.

We return to the dining room to find that Layla's mother has made herself scarce, leaving her youngest child and Ron to have a heated discussion about the very game that Ron recognized her from. "We were robbed! That win was a steal and you know it," Katrina says pointedly, the toothy grin on her face betraying whatever vitriol is in her voice.

I can't help but feel that Katrina is flirting with Ron, although he appears to be reliably unaware of the younger girl's interest. I breathe in deeply enough to receive a brief look of curiosity from Layla before remembering what I had promised myself a mere couple of hours ago. I have to trust him and let these insecurities go. Exhaling, I say with as much humor as I can muster, "Are you two really drudging up Quidditch history from almost two years ago?"

Ron's blue eyes seem to light up when he hears my voice from the doorway, effectively extinguishing what little doubt that crept into the back of my mind. "Are you the one to discourage a history lesson?" He asks me playfully, before returning his attention to Katrina. "Because our win was as fair as it could have been." He adds on cheekily, "Not much of a challenge either, from what I remember."

"The war must've ruined your memory, old man," Katrina jokes darkly. Ron's usual coloring drains from his face, and his gaze is averted to the table cloth in front of him. Although innocently meant, the change in Ron's demeanor tells me that the comment had devastating effects. It was most likely an unwelcome trigger that reminded him of Fred, both in content and delivery.

"Well, I say it's about time we head out of here! Hermione, Ron, are you two ready?" Layla breaks the tension like a knife, necessarily replacing Ron's uneasiness with my own.

"Where are you going? Can I come?" Katrina asks with an eagerness that reminds me of her age. She seems pretty oblivious to the change of atmosphere in the room.

"Sorry Pumpkin, but this is classified business," her older sister responds with a wink. "Besides, shouldn't you be getting ready for the school that Kingsley all but begged you to attend?"

"I have around a month left to prepare," she responds sulkily, although her frown turns thoughtful. "But I guess I should reread those last few reading assignments."

"Reread? You're as bad as Hermione," Ron chuckles as he stands from his chair, rejoining the land of the living. I bristle at the remark, but the fond look on his face as he joins us by the doorway silences whatever comeback I had.

"I'd take that as a compliment if I were you, Pumpkin!" Layla smirks. "We'll see you soon."

Upon leaving the house, Layla pulls out a map from the bag she is carrying. "Here is the address," she says as she points to a specific spot on the map. "But since you two have never been there, I would feel more comfortable with getting a taxi than Apparating, if that's alright."

"You don't have to ask me twice," Ron assures with a relieved smile. After all, he never had the best history with Apparating.

0000

I feel a sense of foreboding as we stand in front of the quaint dentist office, its hours emblazoned white against the clear window. Just above, I also see the aliases of my parents among a list of dentists. While we know that the office as a whole is open, I have no clue if either one of my parents are working at this very moment.

"What do you reckon we should do?" Ron inquires to no one in particular, his eyes steady upon the white letters on the window.

"Depends on if Hermione is ready," Layla responds sympathetically, perhaps remembering my earlier confession in the kitchen.

"I am," I try to say evenly, but my voice cracks. "I suppose there's no harm in going in."

We walk into the lobby, my heart accelerating inside of my chest. A few patients that are waiting look up at us from their magazines, before deciding that we aren't worth any further attention. It is strange to be amongst Muggles again - we are practically celebrities in the Wizarding World, which we would be fairly unaware of in our isolation at the Burrow if not for the Daily Prophet being delivered to us.

A jolly, red faced woman with a dark bob haircut greets us at the front counter. I walk toward her tentatively, while Ron and Layla stay back by the door. "Do you have an appointment?," she asks.

"No, but I was wondering if Wendell and Monica Wilkins are working today," I reply, hoping that my voice isn't betraying my nerves.

"Let's see," she trails off, turning to the computer beside her. "I believe that Dr. Monica is working today. I personally haven't seen Dr. Wendell in a while."

I take in a harsh breath. My mother is in this very building. "Is she free at any point today?"

The woman briefly types on her keyboard before looking up at me once again. "You lucked out! Someone just recently dropped their appointment at 3:15 today. Shall I make an appointment?"

While I shudder to think of my mother seeing my teeth since I wasn't able to have the best hygienic practices while living in the woods for almost a year, I feel like that is the earliest opening I will have to see her alone. "Yes please," I murmur, my mind churning around exactly how I will go about everything.

"Name and information please," she requests as she hands me some forms. I take them from her and sit in a chair behind me, earning puzzled looks from my companions that I barely notice. Should I use my real name? Probably not. There are still Voldemort sympathizers, even now that he is dead. I write down something that I would remember. 'Jean Wilkins.' Unfortunately, this makes the rest of the information more difficult, as I don't have insurance under my alias, but I believe that I have brought enough money with me that I can exchange with Layla for the proper currency.

After I finish filling out the forms, I return them to the receptionist. As she types in the information to make my appointment, she notices my chosen name. "Any relation to the doctor?" She asks.

"Yes," I say before I can stop myself. Thinking quickly, I come up with an excuse that wouldn't arouse too much suspicion if my mum also noticed the name. "Although I doubt she remembers me, I'm a distant cousin. I figured I'd surprise her, if you don't mind."

"Of course not! How fun," she smiles. She writes down my appointment time on a sticky note and hands it to me. "We will be seeing you in a couple of hours, Miss Wilkins."

Taking the note, I thank her for her time and all but run out of the building, with Ron and Layla in hot pursuit. After a safe distance, I stop, my breath coming in and out quickly, veering on hyperventilation. Ron rubs my back in circles, murmuring unintelligibly in my ear. Layla gives us both a look that suggests that she worries for our mental health. "Is everything alright?"

I can't tell her that I have been on the verge of a breakdown for quite some time over not knowing if I will be able to restore their memories. After my breath becomes normal enough to speak again, I let out a transparent lie. "I figured that I would surprise her by making an appointment and showing up as one of her patients. Unfortunately, I'm deathly afraid dentist appointments, even though my parents made sure I had them routinely as a child, but it's worth taking on to surprise her."

Her expression does not change. "Alright then…" she says, sounding unconvinced. "What time is the appointment? I figured I would run some errands."

"3:15, and I was wondering if you could spot me the money for the appointment. I have money at the house, but I doubt that my currency will suffice here. I'm sorry for the burden," I ask, embarrassed about the plan that didn't seem like too much of an imposition when I was filling out the papers.

"Don't worry about it! I got you covered," she assures me. "You guys are welcome to come with me as I do my errands, if you would like."

"I think we'll explore," Ron says before I can respond, looking at me in a way that begged for compliance. "Never been to Sydney before. Figured it could be a good opportunity to check things out."

I merely nod, wondering exactly what he was up to. "Alright, just stay alert. I doubt you can get yourselves into trouble during a couple of hours, but keep in mind that sympathizers are still out there," Layla warns, although it is unnecessary. I am reminded of the fact almost every night in my dreams.

After Layla parts from us, I drag Ron to sit on a nearby bench. "What was that about?"

"Well, one, we both know that excuse was rubbage. You have the nicest teeth of anyone I know," he replies, but I am too wound up to be flattered by the compliment. "I'm also never going to turn down spending time alone with you."

Well, that one was slightly more effective. I give him a small smile. "I doubt I'm splendid company at the moment. I'm going bonkers over seeing my parents, if you haven't noticed."

"I have," he says bluntly. He takes my hand in his own, softening the blow. "But I want to be here for you. So what's going through that brilliant mind?"

I let out a sigh. I don't even know where to begin. "Well, I figured that I could easily get my mum alone in an appointment with her, which would be casting the memory restoration spell easier. I gave them an alias just in case anyone we wouldn't want to sees it. While I know when this will occur, now, there's still the fact that I've never cast the spell before. Who knows if it will work."

"I do," he replies confidently, squeezing my hand.

I roll my eyes, endeared but knowing that it makes little difference. "No one will until I do it, I suppose."

"Right!" He agrees, standing up abruptly. "So let's actually explore then, shall we? Better that than worrying on a bench for two hours."

Although my mind is filled with my parents and the incantation that could bring them back to me, I allow Ron to take me throughout the blocks that are fairly close to the dentist office. We come across a lovely park where the grass is still a bright green in spite of the cold. Picking a spot on the grass, we sit and watch a couple of children on a swing, who laugh as their parents push them higher and higher. "I sort of forgot about the hemisphere change," Ron remarks randomly, and I look over to see his pale bare arms covered in goose bumps. "Though I suppose this is still better than most days in London. Rains every day there, I swear." Being perfectly comfortable in the dark blue sweater my mum had given me, I hadn't noticed the colder temperature. It's winter here in Australia. I grab my bag and manage to find a blanket after a few moments of shifting through it. I hand it to Ron with an indulgent smile. "Thanks," he says, the tips of his ears burning pink. He takes great care to cover both of us with it.

"It's strange, how I had to prepare winter clothes for the trip here," I say along the same vein, remembering another topic that has been one of concern for the past month. I snuggle up next to him under the blanket, our sides touching as we sit upright. "As soon as we get back, we're going to have to add lighter clothes on top of everything we brought to prepare for school. I wonder when we will go to Diagon Alley to get supplies - I feel like I could use a new jumper."

I feel Ron tense beside me, but he does not respond.

"Do you know when your mum will want us all to go shopping for school supplies?" I inquire, trying to sound casual. I know that Ron doesn't want to talk about school, but doesn't he see that it is in his best interests for him to complete his education?

"Hermione," he groans, looking resolutely at the ground in front of him.

I scoot away in order to look at him. "Are you really going to put this decision off forever? We have to go have to school in a month!"

"We don't have to do anything!" He replies hotly, refusing to meet my gaze.

I glare steadily at his profile. In a better mood, I would have amused myself by counting the freckles on his long nose, which is something I had often done at Hogwarts while pretending to read beside him in the past. Now that it is becoming more evident that I won't have that moment in the firelight of the Gryffindor common room again, I can't stomach the thought. My voice is crisp and methodical. "It's simple. Either you're going to complete your education or you're not."

"But it really isn't that simple!" He finally turns to look at me, his blue gaze stormy. "Look, after you restore your parents memories, your obligations are finished. You can do what you want, but I have a brother to worry about. He needs me at the shop more than I need to be at school."

The selfish, insecure part of me considers 'being at school' synonymous with 'being with me,' but I am not going to let my hurt show. It is my turn to look down as I process everything he said. "I didn't realize that George had asked you to work with him."

"Even if he hadn't, I'd still want to be there for him. He hasn't been the same since, you know…" Ron trails off, but I understand. Since Fred died. Anyone that knew George could see that he had been changed, perhaps irrevocably. "There's more to life than education. I have to be there for George."

I continue to look at the green grass, shame warming cheeks. I really don't want to give up. Education is one of the most important things in the world to me. But how can I convince Ron to be anything less than the loyal family member that he is? That is a part of him. "I understand."
Ron puts my chin between his fingers, gently guiding my face up to look at him. His eyes are warmer than before, their blue shade lightening. "For what it's worth, I'll write you every day. And we can always see each other during the weekends at Hogsmeade."

The corners of my lips lift into a small smile, even though my eyes feel like they could sting at any moment. "I'm more concerned about your education than not being able to see you." It feels like a lie, although I believed it when I said it. "But it will be strange. I've gotten used to seeing you everyday."

"I feel like you'd get sick of me soon enough. Reckon it's for the best," he responds with a sad smile, his self deprecating humor betraying insecurities of his own.

"That will never happen." I turn suddenly, pressing his torso down to lay on the grass. He looks at me expectantly, his smile growing. However, I merely rest my head upon his chest, my arm wrapping around his lean frame. I'm not sure what he could have anticipated - there are children around!

The minutes tick by in silence as we watch the cloud-filled sky underneath my blanket. Although it wasn't necessarily the answer I had wanted to hear, my long-asked question had been answered. The closure Ron granted me allowed my thoughts to return to my parents for the time being. I pull the book that I had "borrowed" from the restricted section long ago out of my bag, the necessary incantation on repeat in my head and a silent movement on my lips. After some time, I hear Ron snoring lightly above my head. I smile, glad that he is finally able to get some rest. The rest of the time before my appointment is spent in this manner, and it does not escape me how sweet and simple the moment would be had it not been for my upcoming task. I can certainly get used to this kind of life from now on.

I glance at my watch. 3:00 P.M. After placing the old book back in my bag, I wake Ron and we make the journey back to the dentist office, our hands intertwined throughout. When we are within sight of the building, I spot Layla, who waves at us broadly. "About time! I was about to call a search party," she calls as we bridge the gap between us.

My heart resumes its earlier performance, waging war with the level-headed nature that I usually possess. We enter the office and I walk up to the same receptionist to confirm that I am here for my appointment. "Great, just take a seat and I'll call you in a couple of minutes."

I join the group on a comfortable couch in the corner of the lobby. "Are you ready?" Ron asks quietly.

I nod as Layla shoots us an amused look. "Although I respect how you feel, Hermione, I don't quite understand why you feel that way. I'm sure that your mother will be happy to see you."

Ron and I share an uneasy look. "You're right, I'm just being silly," I respond, still unwilling to admit that I will be doing far more than just make a surprise appearance.

A door next to the receptionist opens, and a nurse calls my alias. I stand slowly, earning a puzzled look from Layla. "It's a long story," I murmur to her briefly before walking toward the man in scrubs. He leads me to a room that is covered in paintings of the beach and various aquatic life. After sitting, he briefly looks at my teeth, and I am once again momentarily embarrassed. However, if there is anything abnormal about them, he doesn't say so. He moves to depart after letting me know that the doctor will be in shortly. I try not to shake as I lay in the reclining chair, staring at the soothing pictures of the sea while repeating what I need to do in my mind.

Too soon, the door behind me clicks open again, and I have to remind myself to breathe. My mother walks over to me with a kind, but unknowing, expression on her tired face. Her dark brown hair has new grey streaks and her green eyes have lines around them that weren't there a year ago. She almost looks as if she had lived through a war, despite my efforts. My eyes sting with moisture, and I dab at them quickly, hoping that she wouldn't notice.

"Jean, I'm Dr. Wilkins. Marcy told me that we are distantly related? Are you quite alright?" Her English accent remains as it was, and it also appears that her powers of perception have been left unaltered. Also, apparently the receptionist can't keep a secret to save her life, but that's a small detail in comparison to the overwhelming ones I have to deal with in front of me.

"I'm sorry, dentist appointments make me anxious," I say with a shaky laugh that sounds dreadfully fake in my own ears. "But yes, my grandfather is your father's cousin, I believe."

"What a small world! And please, don't be afraid! I'm very good at what I do. You have nothing to worry about," she assures with a confidence that I picked up from her as a child. None of the Grangers are exactly known for their humility. The familiar comment makes me smile. "Please excuse me, I'm just going to wash up. I'll be ready in a moment."

She turns away from me to turn on a faucet on the opposite corner. Realizing that this is the opportunity that I have been waiting for, I quickly grab my wand from my bag and whisper the necessary spell. "Memorium Fictitious Reversium."

My mother tenses at the sink, the water spilling over unmoving hands. She turns slowly toward me. "Mum?" I ask, dreadfully afraid that I have done wrong.

"He-Hermione?" My mother asks, her eyes filled with a teary confusion. Leaping from the reclining chair, I throw myself into her arms. She reciprocates after a hesitant moment, her hands dampening the back of my dark blue sweater. She pulls back with her hands on my shoulders, staring at my face as tears roll unabashedly down her own. "Why did I live the past year not knowing you?"

"It's a long story," I sob, my tears mimicking hers in their descent. "I needed to protect you, but everything is okay now, for the most part. I'm just so glad you remember me!" We embrace for a long moment, although I can feel some tension as I know my mother will want more details than that. Indeed, she will want to know everything, but I figure that there will be plenty of time for that. For now, I have one more parent that I need to worry about. I pull back from her again to ask, "Where's Dad?"

Her green eyes fill with a fresh set of tears. My stomach sinks, my euphoria immediately stricken down, and I start to shake uncontrollably. I know it was too good to be true to not have consequences for using dark magic. Something terrible has happened. Taking in a shaking breath, she moves to turn off the faucet that water was still steadily streaming from.

She doesn't look at me when she finally speaks. "Your father has been in the hospital in a coma for months now." I can barely feel my body swaying as I lose consciousness.