Disclaimer (1): I am not JKR, nor her publishes, and all appropriate copyright retention applies.

Disclaimer (2): This is an entry for the Houses Competition being hosted by MoonlightForgotten. All appropriate details will be in the Author's Note at the end.

Stupor apparent in her movement, Hermione lethargically packed her belongings into her bag she had used when on the run with Harry and Ron. The extension charm worked beautifully, and so she used the same concept during her travels in Australia. The original mission had been to locate her parents but she hadn't anticipated how genuinely hard the task would end up being for her. In fact, it often felt completely impossible.

On the 364th day of her search it became painfully apparent that the next the morning she would have to apparate back to the Burrow. A promise was a promise, and she'd made the parameters clear to herself; "Just one year, that's all. One year to find them!" It was never meant to take that long.

Hermione didn't want to admit her feelings of defeat that had long taunted her subconscious. Now she stood toe-to-toe with something she'd insisted silently was impossible from the beginning. She would have to abandon her quest and return to the Burrow with no answers. Each minute that dissolved into the past made her obtusely aware that it pushed her closer to the dreadful reality she hoped to never face: giving up.

A gurgle in her stomach distracted her from other ideas that she'd been ignoring the entire time. Maybe they'd died? Maybe they had been found after all? Maybe they hadn't actually come to Australia? Maybe she'd imagined this whole trip and was really in a coma at Saint Mungo's with some terrible war injury. Maybe this was some fantasy produced in her dying breaths…

Even if she had believed in such a thing, this was far from what she'd consider paradise. She had relied on faulty reasoning: if one was wrong then they could all be wrong. Lost in her thoughts as she was, it was not helpful in any way. It was time to go and she knew it. Hermione lifted her chin and glanced around her room at the inn one last time.

Where was she supposed to go to find something useful? Was there anything to be found? Truthfully, she didn't know but she turned her room keys over to the attendant just the same. Hermione's bag bounced off of her hip in a familiar rhythm that calmed her in a strange way. She kept no particular pace as she walked along the sidewalk.

Hermione wasn't keen on giving up so she remained steadfast with false confidence before she found a small stand-alone restaurant with a lovely terrace. She was compelled to go inside to eat, and having arrived just as they opened only sweetened her craving to stop. There was no crowd to that might've overheard her ramblings, so it gave Hermione space to breathe easily. It also meant that she had plenty of space to review her work once more before she left for good. Futile as the effort seemed, she was insistent that one more look could reveal something new.

She requested a large table on the terrace. Once the server left, she laid out three notepads and a map of Australia. Each pad contained important details and provided a thorough picture of her ventures. In order they were labeled with medium hues of red, blue, and black ink. The notepad labeled in red showed a timeline of stops made each and every day since she'd arrived. Though the format was more of an outline, she still managed to fit all of the information on the pages comfortably.

The next one was less organized, but only because she had collections of newspaper clippings and phonebook listings all over with angled notes scrawled to the sides. As for the last, it had no particular order. The most sense that could be made on the page was the heading: research. All of the notes Hermione'd taken, in shorthand, filled the pages from the books she'd collected over the years. The map had illegible letters paired with stars marking her port city stops.

Starting along the shores made the most sense because her parents loved the ocean and always said as much. What her parents loved most about travelling were the roaring waves dancing over the water's surface. For all the danger hiding in the depths, they thought of it as a minor flaw for the most stunning thing in the universe. As long as she'd known she was a witch, the spells that Hermione could perform still never garnered the same awe as the salty seas. To them there was nothing more fascinating than hearing of a new species being discovered each year from a world even more beyond their reach than that containing magic.

So the search began in the city of Sydney. From there she traveled the outskirts of the entire country, hitting as many of the large coastal cities along the southern border as possible: Port Kembla, Eden, Hastings, Melbourne, Geelong, Portland. She'd spent about a week at each one to properly sniff out the nearby towns that weren't quite as glamorous as their well-populated neighbors. Unfortunately, those who thought they recognized the faces of her parents had too often misled her.

The first two months weren't fruitful, if she had to put it nicely. Feeling suffocated by failure, Hermione raced to Adelaide to investigate a closely-knit group of ports in the area. Nearly each day she'd gone to a different one but only ended up wasting another month there too. That's when doubt started to gray the edges of her mind.

It took several more months of misses before Hermione finally made it to Brisbane. Hermione only had about a month left before she'd agreed to return home and there was still a lot of ground to cover. On the day before she planned to travel further north, she found herself longing to spend some time in the park. Enjoying some fresh air had always been cathartic for her when stressed. Besides, there had been a satisfying breeze that day carrying the scent of sea foam. Her eyes closed when she inhaled. Then it all happened very quickly, and the result of those events ended up breathing new life into her search.

As it were, she had pulled out a picture of her last piano recital before her fourth year at Hogwarts. Though she used to compete during the summer season, her participation abruptly ceased due to the importance of the war that had been at hand. Her parents looked so proud in the image and she wondered if she'd ever see that same expression on their faces again. That's why she'd closed her eyes in the first place, to keep from getting too emotional in public.

The breeze carried the photograph from her fingers into the air. Realization settled too late and she was sure that she couldn't catch up to it without using magic. Luck was all she could call it, though it went against her nature, when the runner was caught in the face by the image. He paused and looked at it for a moment.

Immediately Hermione called for the runner's attention. She apologized for the inconvenience; it had been a moment of absentmindedness. That is when he sort smirked at her with a gesture along the edge of the photo; "My parents attended some of her cooking seminars in Brighton! Crikey, what a small island, right?" Though her mother was a brilliant cook at home, Hermione never thought of she'd make a career of it.

Drunk on the new information he'd provided, Hermione was quick to pull out one of her fabricated stories about how she'd lost touch with her parents after a bit of personal strife. The man shrugged as if he'd not cared an ounce about the reasoning for her emotional state, and even remarked harshly; "Ain't you got the Internet? You oughtta try it."

Hermione had tried computers. As dentists, her parents had made a reasonable wage during her childhood, so the Grangers had a personal computer in their home. Operating it wasn't totally foreign but she didn't know it well enough to properly find her parents using it as her only means. She returned to magic after only a couple of days each time she tried because it had felt useless to her. Besides, Brighton was close to Brisbane, which meant she was so close. The thought had been that she was too close to fail.

Before even arriving in Australia, Hermione had composed a list of tracking spells on the first page. The one she'd circled was Semita, a seeking spell that was generally successful for witches and wizards of all talent levels. Not only had her research suggested it was the most reliable but also the fairly popular among Aurors. Not knowing certainly one way or the other whether to use the names they believed were theirs, or the natural ones, Hermione began with their fictitious identities: Semita Monica Wilkins; Semita Wendell Wilkins. As it became clear hadn't worked to any effect she switched to their proper names, Estelle and William Granger. When even that hadn't yielded anything worthwhile she tried her mother's maiden name, Estelle Dubois.

Initially she thought that she'd caught a faint trail leading her back towards Sydney. Hermione thought instantly that her struggles had been because she was going in the wrong direction, so she kept trying those spells while she backtracked towards Brisbane. She used Muggle transportation primarily, hoping that maybe she'd hear something that helped her in her search. Free time during those trips was spent reading the works of Arthur Conan Doyle. Every step of the way Hermione partnered up with the fictional consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, wishing the whole way that she was half as good as he was at figuring things out.

Of course, it was just a silly book. Once she'd told Ron that books and cleverness wouldn't always be her saving grace. That time had come to fruition in Australia. As close as she was in Brighton, she is still hadn't located them. She found out plenty of information, like that her father was Doctor Wendell rather than Doctor Wilkins, and that her mother pronounced her name with a French accent. None of this really steered her in any particular direction. With nobody knowing what way they'd gone she couldn't be certain she'd not already crossed paths with them on her way to Brisbane.

Hermione had since straightened up and paced the side of the table with crossed arms. It mattered little how long she stared into the pages of details committed to her memory. Nothing contained in those pages would give her anything new to locate her parents.

"What if I never find them?" She choked back tears as she slipped out of her flashbacks. This thought had certainly crossed her mind many times before but never quite as profoundly as it did at that moment. A day's worth of time was the separation between her nightmares and reality. All at once she became winded and she hunched to slam fist against the table's surface.

This was never supposed to take so long.

A whole bloody year!

"Brightest of witch of my age," she growled when , "What a load of bollocks!" Not wanting to become too outwardly frustrated she began to fold the map back up. The process of stacking it all up could've been done quickly but Hermione let her fingers linger on each item too long. Putting it in a pile was too final for her to accept, and so she left the job unfinished when she heard the server's feet in the background.

A salad and lemonade were placed with loud clunking sounds onto the table. She'd made a show of scoffing loudly as she left, but Hermione paid no mind. The chair creaked as she leaned back to consider other mediums she'd explored to find her parents. Generally, substantial discoveries were beyond her reach.

When Semita did not give her the results she desperately sought, she tried a somewhat more obscure spell for hunting.: Venari. Though is not a common practice among magical people, but there were still witches and wizards that used the charm to track elusive beasts. The tactic was aggressive in a way that spelled out her desperation after five months of nothing but dead ends.

Hermione found that the hunting spell wasn't so effective with people, so she grew ever more irrational. She sought out wisdom, much to her disdain, in old Divinations texts. Though she thought of the subject as genuinely useless, her mind had been changed from her continued anguish. She'd spent an entire week practicing this and that to see the future. Ron was her subject many times, only after writing for permission. Her thought had been that because he was far away, if she could get anything to work with him, then it would more than enough to find her parents in the same country! Alas, she was met with failure far more often than not. Trying not to be discouraged by the lack of talent for the discipline, Hermione tried to perform each task as perfectly as she could manage until she was sure it wasn't an effective tactic.

Exasperated and defeated, Hermione set her utensils down gentle against the table. She had decided that it really was time to give up on her search. Glancing around for any Muggle eyes before she took action, she waved her hand over the collection of supplies she'd kept on her person for months and made them fizzle into sand. These notes could give her nothing more. This quest was just a series of roads leading nowhere.

She'd exhausted every resource at her disposal. Tracking a Muggle with magic had sounded far easier last summer. Struggling on this matter had seemed ridiculous when she considered the discoveries she'd done during the Second Wizarding War. This shouldn't easy in comparison – but it wasn't at all! It baffled her because she knew what she was looking for and it was still out of her grasp!

In an effort to avoid crying, Hermione scooted to the edge of her chair to rest her chest on the ledge. It rocked the chair almost completely forward, which would've landed her on the floor. Urgently she had shoved a mouthful of greens and dressing into her mouth. As she chewed and stared with squinted eyes at the suburban area on the edge of Brighton, there was a moment where she noticed someone approaching the restaurant. Though the gait would have given away his identity, it was his ginger hair that alerted her to his presence first. A jolt of energy surged through her in a way that left her heart racing.

"Ronald Weasley," Hermione questioned herself aloud, "In Australia?"

Excitedly she leapt from her seat and raced into the restaurant to meet him at the door. No sooner had he walked in did she throw herself into his arms. Effortlessly he lifted her up, spinning her for extra measure, and then set her back down to greet her proper. Well, almost proper, he planted a sloppy kiss on her lips in as much unrestrained passion as Hermione herself had projected.

Though she'd not seen the company he brought. Loneliness had filled every dark space in her heart, her mind, and her soul. Even though she'd gone to Australia to find her parents she hadn't seen them when they were finally in front of her. All she saw was Ron, the only other person she missed as much as her own parents.

"Merlin's beard, what's brought you down here?" Her voice was breathy, as if she was short if it so much she needed to suck it in as she spoke. Brown hair fluttered wildly, revealing the old frizz that used to make her look untamed in her earliest years at Hogwarts. Ron admired it for a second before he gestured to his left.

As Hermione's gaze tracked his motion he spoke smoothly; "It took some questionable tactics, but I pulled some strings. I think I've found what you've been looking for…"

Next to him was a couple that were unquestionably the Grangers. Hermione's heart nearly stopped, and her complete shock was the only thing that kept her from having leapt into their arms immediately. Thankfully Ron was prepared for this and spoke to give her a clear picture of the situation; "Found you a replacement host family, yeah? I'm sorry you had to be put up in a room for a few weeks but now we've got you settled!"

Though these were her parents, she couldn't tell them how ecstatic she was to see them, or how sorry she was for having sent them away in the first place. Tears threatened her eyes again, both for being overwhelmed with happiness and with great sorrow. Only one action really existed for her, and so she poked her hand forward for the Wilkins couple to be properly introduced; "Hermione Granger, he says, correct?"

All at once she felt a stab in her chest. Her father stood before her and spoke her name as if it was completely foreign, but just over nineteen years ago he'd chosen alongside her mother. Strength had to prevail so she forced composure; "Yes, sir, and I believe you're the Wilkins family?"

"Not much of a family, if we're honest." The woman began with something missing about her expression. To Hermione is was clear as day they longed for a child – a child that was in front of them, that belongs to them, but they didn't know they had – but she couldn't let it show. A stupid smile remained planted on her face; "We don't have any children of our own, I'm afraid."

"Let's get to our seats before we get to talking too much, eh?" Ron suggested, gesturing to Hermione who then pointed to the terrace. The Wilkins started toward the doorway leading outside when she raised her voice to say it was the big table that she'd taken. They nodded their heads that they'd heard.

Ron pushed her forcibly forward and whispered in her eyes; "I'll distract everyone in here. You'll have to restore their memories while their backs are turned!"

Urgency in his voice did not carry to Hermione. Frozen in place, she merely admired the people her parents had become in their new lives. It was just as difficult to consider taking this life away as it had been to change it in the first place. Conflict riddled her mind, and for once, she didn't know what the right thing to do was supposed be…

"Hurry up, 'Mione!" Ron grunted, "GO!"

He shoved her. Arms and legs fell into action subconsciously and she let her wand slip into her hand when she reached into her pocket. The counter spell had been on the tip of her tongue for a year and she was glad when she didn't fail to speak them clearly; "Mente reverte!"

Returning their memories was just part one of two steps. When it became clear that they were looking around in panic, she had to use a Confundus charm to confuse them.. The action was swift and soon as they sat down in a haze she ran up to them. Shakily she called out to them; "Mom! Dad!"

Each of them turned to smile at their daughter with the same recognition they had each summer when she went home. Words failed her, so she took them in her arms. Clueless about what they'd done to deserve she a boisterous show of affection, neither moved to reject her. With them returned, Hermione simply wept at this incredible turn of events.

"Hermione, are you alright, dear?" Her mother had whispered, worry for their daughter, "Has something happened?"

"Oh, mum, you've no idea!" Hermione managed to avoid screaming in reply.

Ron returned with a towel in hand, and he dabbed at his lip, which was bleeding just a bit from what had probably been a fall. A small nod indicated to him that she was successful in restoring their memories. Relief washed over Ron's expression, and how she missed how tired he looked escaped Hermione, but it brought with it a peace that she didn't know she longed for; "I had no doubt you'd get the job done."

A couple of hours ended up passing with ease. Ron and Hermione worked together to inform Mr. and Mrs. Granger of all the events that transpired during their time as the Wilkinses. Too often they had to look at Hermione with horror stricken expressions, having to realized two years behind everyone else the genuine danger she'd been in for months. Not once did they interject with judgment. The only thing that they said on the matter was at the end when her mother reached over and took Hermione's hand in her own; "Oh how much you've grown up since we first brought you home. I'm so proud of the woman you've become, sweetheart."

In due time the conversation took a more positive turn which focused on Ron's part in this beautiful reunion. Hermione pleaded with him for the secret in his success. Ron admitted to conspiring with Draco to gain access to dark artifacts and magic; "I am surprised he obliged. I figure he realized what a sod he was all these years."

"I'm proud that you could overcome your hatred for him." Hermione stole another glance over at her parents. Joy bubbled into her cheeks turning them pink. Not once did her eyes leave the two people she'd abandoned to protect.

So Ron rambled; "We used a potion that operates like a scry, so I conjured the images like I would for a pensive. It confirmed that they were in Australia but little more than that. My connection to them wasn't strong enough so the image was blurry at best."

Then there was another attempt; "Since we couldn't scry using a potion we tried using a proper artifact. There's a crystal ball that, when used with a specific charm, is supposed to be able to reveal the focal point of one's mind. Again, my memories weren't strong enough so I was left with nothing."

The afternoon had passed too quickly, and when the meal was done Mr. Granger insisted Hermione return home with them; "We'd love our daughter and her boyfriend to visit for a bit properly. We've never really gotten to know Ron properly, after all."

Ron agreed for the both of them, admitted he'd taken some time of leave from the Ministry; "I asked Shacklebolt for some time off so I've got about a week before he's expecting me back." Hermione excitedly grabbed his hand and assured her parents that they'd love to settle in with them for the time being.

Once they began to leave, Ron told Mr. and Mrs. Granger that he wanted to talk to Hermione alone before they came around. They crawled into the car that they'd driven, apparently, and went on their way. There was trust that Ron knew how to get Hermione back home. And although it was hard for the Grangers to separate, Ron made it clear there was something important that he wanted to discuss.

"Do you think they'll come back to London?" Ron asked, sheepish in his expression at the time. Hermione had not considered what a risk Ron had taken, not in just his willingness to wait while she ventured all over Australia on her own, but also in locating her parents.

She shook her head; "It doesn't matter if they come back or not."

"Hermione, I can't ask that of you."

Ron hadn't actually asked anything. She pointed this out and he clarified that he didn't intend to ask it anyway. Awkwardly they stood as some people passed to come and others to go. Life continued on without them even though time seemed to stand still on the sidewalk block they shared.

"I've got a loved ones in London too, you know," Hermione started, "I've got Harry, Ginny, your brothers, your parents…"

Ron smirked expectantly, but Hermione explored her childish sense of humor; "There's Luna, Neville, Hagrid…"

Ron's smirk diminished. It was all in good fun, though, and she nuzzled her nose against his before giving him a gentle and deliberate peck. Once she'd done so it was too easy to reveal the truth; "But most importantly I have you, Ronald Bilius Weasley. You're my family now."

Ron slipped a hand into his pocket. Half of his arm was in before his face showed signs of victory in locating what he'd wanted. Fingers peeled back to reveal a small velvet box. Then in a rushed sort of slur he asked, "Isupposeyouwouldbeokaymarryingmethen?"

"Come again?" Hermione requested, not sure she'd heard all of the right words.

Much more slowly, Ron proposed again; "Well, if I'm your family now then I suppose you would be okay marrying me."

It came out with an air of observation. This was confidence and bravery in Ron she'd never quite seen in him until then. Stereotypes made her wonder often while growing up if he'd not been better off in another house. However, time had shown her that everyone has a little bit of every Hogwarts house in them. The house they're sorted to is the one that simply will help them grow the most. Ron proved it that day.

"We haven't even been on a proper date!" She exclaimed, though she still opened the box. Inside was a golden band with a squared diamond.

Ron pulled the ring out and placed it on her finger; "I've just found your bloody parents, I think we can skip the dating bit, yeah?"

Hermione pondered it all. Marrying a man she'd not dated? They did live together, alongside Harry, and it had been a lovely experience for the most part. War has a way of tainting many things but there were nights spent cooking and eating under the stars that she wouldn't trade for the world. Inevitably there would be fights, tears, and tantrums galore. Hermione would want this while Ron would want that; and they'd never agree on some things no matter how long they were with one another. Regardless of those prospects, Hermione knew quite plainly that life with Ron Weasley was the only thing left to want.

Ron proved how much he'd matured by making Hermione's priorities his own. Again she thought on how his career as an Auror could've been compromised with the means he'd used to find her the Grangers. All the same, he hadn't cared a lick about those potential consequences.

There was only one logical response to his proposal.

She stood in a simple white gown adorned with red and yellow gems around the bodice and he was opposite her in a black suit with his Gryffindor tie.

Once upon a time, Hermione would have thought it a joke if someone said it would be Ronald Weasley standing across from her when she married. Contradictorily, every face in the crowd saw this as no surprise. It had been clear for years that the two were meant to be together.

"You may kiss the bride," It was Harry who had officiated during the ceremony. He had announced just that morning that he could imagine anyone else marrying off his best friends. As soon as the words out of his mouth were Ron and Hermione attached at the lips, finally at peace being open about how deeply in love they were with one another.

Hermione and Ron made their way down the yellow carpet, everyone clapping and whistling as they went, only to stop at the buffet where a dozen or so house elves waited to serve the crowd. Ron bent down to the nearest one and shook her hand; "Thank you for doing this. She wouldn't have had it any other way, you know."

Beside him Hermione fanned her face to avoid crying. He'd allowed her to hire only house elves for the set up and catering. Didn't even bat an eye at the wage she wanted to give them! She muttered in appreciation; "Oh Ron…"

"It is our pleasure, sir. Anything for the founder of S.P.E.W., after all." The house elf bowed quickly and then snapped with both hands. Plates were made for the respective tastes of each spouse. Ron grabbed both and escorted Hermione to a table dressed with a white cloth with placards showing only their names.

In the busy tones of guests standing to get their plates too, Hermione moved her seat closer to Ron. Years were spent enjoying meals side-by-side at Hogwarts. It felt as natural as breathing.

She let out a sigh; "I'm a proper Weasley now, aren't I?"

"Always were as far as I was concerned…" He spoke with a tone that said she should've already known this information. And in some way she did, but hearing him actually admit it gave her a warm and tingly feeling in her toes.

"Really? You never doubted it once?" Ron turned to look at her with a lopsided grin.

Hermione waited patiently, a tiny bit of horror sneaking up her throat, but Ron didn't make her suffer long; "I almost gave up a few times, but I just couldn't pretend that I didn't love you. There was this feeling in my gut that I would lose you forever if I did."

Hermione knew the feeling well, and she glanced to her parents who'd been drinking sparkling wine alongside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They got on very well despite the many differences between them. Hermione was grateful not just for how comfortable the group felt together but also because they were together.

It was all because of Ronald Bilius Weasley, a quiet knight always ready to save the day.

"Thank you for not giving up," Hermione whispered as she laced her fingers into Ron's comfortably; "I wouldn't have known this much happiness if you had."

Author's Note (1):

Ravenclaw, Themed (Almost Giving Up), 4,999 Words

Author's Note (2):

The Latin spells you see in the text are:

Semita (which means to seek),

and

Venari (which means to hunt),

and

Mente reverte (which means to return the mind).