"Family is not an important thing, it's everything."

Michael J. Fox.

… … … … …

Dark clouds loomed over the horizon. Lightning flashed in the sky, the only source of light in my bedroom, since I hadn't bothered to switch on the light. Thunder boomed across the sky, in answer to the lightning.

It was quite apt, that a storm was brewing now. It seemed like a warning, of the dangerous times ahead. The storm was urging me to make the decision, and to make it right. There was not much time left and only two choices – neither one quite good enough for me.

In my first year at Hogwarts, after me, Ron and Harry had helped protect the Philosopher's Stone, I knew. Being best friends with Harry Potter was not going to be easy. Of course, not because Harry didn't like me or anything, but because he was Voldemort's target and his weakness was and shall always be the ones he cared about. Meaning, I was a target, too. And surprisingly, I'd been fine with it. I knew I had to be by his side, no matter what. Even the prospect of death could not dissuade me from being one of Harry's best friends.

Even now, when it all seems so real. The fear that this might be the last time you see somebody, the last time you laugh, the last time you were hugged, kissed, danced with. Hell, it might be the last time you eat a pizza.

I could hear mum downstairs, in the kitchen, baking a cake and humming contentedly to herself. The sounds of the TV and dad's booming laughter reached even to my room. They were so happy, so content. I didn't have the heart to do it, and yet I had no choice.

If I alter their memories and take them away to Australia, they would be safe. I'd told them a lot about Harry, and that is not safe. For them and Harry. And if I survive the War (now, there is no denying that a war is in our immediate future), then I can come back and restore their memories. And if I don't, well, at least I'd die knowing they're happy.

But, on the other hand, what if I can't restore their memories? Would I be able to live, knowing that my parents are alive but have no recollection or recognition of me? If I am able to restore their memory, would they hate me for it? Would they resent it? Would they become wary of me and my magic? I couldn't cope with it… I could –

I burst out laughing. Insane, uncontrollable, raucous laughter kept spewing from my mouth. All the fear, tension, anger, frustration, stress, doubts had all been eating away at my brain since Dumbledore's death. The only thing I was pretty sure about was the fact that I would, no matter what, go with Harry on the hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes. Be a suicide-mission as it may, I wasn't backing out from it.

Dumbledore. I'd seen so much, being with Harry (although not as much as he had), gone through so much and yet, I'd always lived inside a cage made of glass. I could see everything through it, but it had protected me, it had been my haven.

But with Dumbledore's death, it was like someone had taken a huge axe and crashed it into my sanctuary. My entire world had come crumbling down. It was like icy water had been poured all over me, and not in the good way.

I'd never let any of my worries and insecurities show and as time went past, they had all gathered inside me, growing and growing, until it burst. All those pent up emotions had finally found an outlet, through my insane laughter.

And then, I thought-

How many stupid times an hour do I use the word 'I'? I mean, all I ever do is think about how something would affect me. Even now, instead of thinking about my parents' safety, I thought about how it would affect ME. I was so stupid.

And I knew exactly what I had to do.

I think this is what Dumbledore meant, when he kept repeating that love was the reason to all that was happening. It was because James and Lily Potter's love for Harry, that he is alive today. It was Harry's love for Sirius that prompted him to head for the Ministry in our fifth year, throwing caution to the wind. And the same sentiment had been reflected in the way Sirius came to rescue Harry. Love.

I thought about everything me, Harry and Ron had gone through. Defeating the mountain troll, Norbert, protecting the Philosopher's Stone, the basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets, meeting Sirius and Remus and Wormtail, the Triwizard Tournament, forming the D.A., Grawp, Umbridge, the battle at the Ministry, Sirius' death, learning about the Horcruxes and finally Dumbledore's death. Sure, we weren't with him throughout them but we were there with him leading up to it. And all that has created a deep connection between us. Of friendship, trust and love.

I set my jaw and gripped my wand tightly in my hand. So tight, that my knuckles turned white. I was going to have to about my parents and not about my own feelings. I had it all planned out. If I wanted them safe, which I totally did, I was going to have to make them forget all about me, that they even had a daughter. They would be Wendell and Monica Wilkins, whose life ambition was to shift to Australia, which is where they would be. If I survive the War (and that's a BIG if), well, then I'll restore my parents memories and deal with their anger and reprimands and other drama, then.

I walked casually downstairs and I thought I was quiet enough so I could sneak up them, but that wasn't so.

"Hermione, dear, what are you doing walking around your house like a thief?" Mum laughed, turning back to look at me, from her position in front of the TV, on the sofa beside dad.

"Oh, nothing, mum. I was just looking for Crookshanks. I can't seem to find him anywhere." That was a lie, of course. I'd just left him in my bedroom, locking the door on him. I felt awful, lying through my teeth to them, but I had no choice. They certainly would insist I go with them if I told them about it, and that was something I couldn't do.

So when they turned back to the TV, I silently prayed that my spell should work perfectly.

Training my wand at their backs, I had this sudden feeling that I was betraying them, but shook it off. Now, was not the time to dwell on these thoughts, not before I finish this task.

"Obliviate." I muttered, and watched as their eyes turned misty. I altered their memories and while they were still unconscious, changed all the photos we had of all of us together. Once I was done, none of them contained me and I felt as though I'd been washed off the face of the earth.

With a sigh and a last look around my home and parents, I got my trunk and all my belongings and left. The pain was too much, the heart-break was terrible. But I had to live through this and a lot more. For my parents, Harry, Ron, Ginny, all the Weasleys, and everyone else I cared deeply about. For me.

Someone had once told me, letting go doesn't mean you forget the person completely, it just means you learn to live without them. That was what I'd done. I'd let my parents go, but I still have to keep going. Always.

… … … … … … … …

This was Hermione's POV of when she alters her parents' memories and her feelings on it.

Hope you guys liked it. Pls R&R.

~ 7 ~