A/N: Oh, geez, hello. So I ended up taking the summer off and getting reacquainted with myself and my love of writing. And now that school's started back up, I've finally gotten myself back into writing mode. But, fair warning, no promises on regular updates. Between school and other stories, both on this site and elsewhere, I'll do my best!

I also originally intended for this chapter to be way longer and cover more, but I just really wanted to have something up for you guys so I can get going on another project of mine. But the next chapter is partially written, so fingers crossed I'll be able to get it up within the month. And speaking of this other project, I am starting up a Marauder Era fic (which will not so much be centered around the Marauders, though they will be there), and if that's your thing, or if you think you'd like something a bit different, check it out! I hope to get it up this weekend.

ANYWAY, finally, chapter three. I don't know much about Australia or false memory charms, so bear with me. Thanks so much for sticking around. You guys are lovely!

Chapter 3: Alright

The adjustment between friends and lovers was not a smooth one. At least, this was what Ron seemed to observe over the next week. There was quite a difference between fantasizing and actually doing, a difference that was even more extreme when the fantasizing and doing concerned someone you had been best friends with since you were eleven. He began to over think things. Whenever he did make a move, however, Hermione always reacted positively. And once they started things, all thinking and awkward motions seemed to disappear.

Slowly, Ron's confidence grew. In just days, he went from sliding his fingers between hers tentatively to confidently wrapping himself around her from behind. He did this one evening after dinner while she was washing the dishes. Hermione sighed contentedly as he kissed the top of her head. She began to scrub the dish in her hands much more slowly as Ron's lips migrated south until he settled for a spot on her neck. He teased it with his tongue before he started to suck.

"Ron," Hermione breathed. She stopped washing altogether and moaned. "Ron…that…oh…" She pushed her hips against his. He pushed back and she gasped. By now, his hands had slid under her shirt and were massaging her stomach. Hermione purred with pleasure and rested her head back on his shoulder. Ron finally unlatched and pressed his lips against her ear.

"Are you finished yet?"

Hermione groaned. "I would be if you hadn't come and distracted me." Coming to her senses, she reached for her neck and gasped. "Ron! I bet you've left a mark."

Ron grinned at the red patch of skin. "Erm…oops?"

Hermione turned to face Ron and pushed him away. "Go upstairs. I need to finish these."

"No you don't," Ron argued, not budging no matter how hard Hermione pushed. "C'mon, you need a break."

"But I'm nearly finished."

"Hermione."

Something about the way he said her name broke her. The next thing Ron knew, Hermione was kissing him, wrapping her arms firmly around his neck. He groaned against her lips and pushed her against the kitchen counter, grabbing her hips and squeezing them hard. Hermione broke for a breath but returned seconds later with a fistful of Ron's hair in one hand and his shirt in the other.

One of the dishes fell from the counter, breaking them apart with a jolt. Hermione repaired it quickly and set it back in the sink to be rewashed. She wrapped her arms around Ron's middle and buried her face against his chest. "I love you."

"I love you more."

A pair of arms suddenly took hold of them. "And I love you the most."

"Piss off, George," Ron growled while Hermione chuckled.

George pulled Hermione away and held her closely to him. "Careful, Ron. If you keep it up with that language, your girl just might run off with someone a bit classier." Hermione rolled her eyes. "To be fair, though, Hermione's got enough class for the both of you."

"What do you want, George?" Hermione giggled, looking up him.

George frowned. "What? I can't just stop and say hello to my brother and his lovely girlfriend?"

"Can you?" Ron asked. "Yes. Is that all you're up to? Probably not."

"Alright, you've caught me," George smirked. "Just make sure those dishes are clean, Granger." He winked at the both of them before he took off up the stairs.

Hermione shook her head and went back to the dishes. "I'm glad he's doing well," she said gently. "I was worried about him for a while."

Ron frowned, remembering the way George had been until recently. He scarcely left his room and barely spoke when he did. Since the party, George had been getting back to himself quite quickly. He had even dropped hints about reopening the shot in Diagon Alley by the end of the summer. Ron worried that it was all for show. He told Hermione this.

"Well," she said thoughtfully as she washed the final plate, "I suppose. But it seems genuine. Not that George isn't a great actor when he needs to be, but…why don't you keep an eye on him for a while then? Of course, he's still sad, but I do think he's feeling a bit better now."

"I hope you're right," Ron replied. "Really, I'd hate for you to be wrong now of all times."

Hermione smiled to herself and sent the dishes back into their cabinet with a flick of her wand. "So would I."

The nice thing about the weeks following the Battle at Hogwarts was that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were able to relax-really, truly relax-for the first time in years. After the funerals, the interviews, the twelve hour nights for catching up on sleep…finally, life seemed to be falling into as normal of a pattern as it could. One afternoon in late May, after all of the hype had died down a considerable amount, the trio found themselves out in the garden of the Burrow. Hermione was resting back against the leg of a bench with a book in her hands. Harry was lying on said bench, looking up at the cloud covered sky. Ron was fiddling with a few blades of grass he had picked while trying (and failing miserably) not to stare at Hermione for too long.

"How long do you think it will take them to round up all the Death Eaters?" Ron asked, breaking their silence in an attempt to focus on something other than the girl in front of him.

Harry let out a heavy sigh before answering. "Dunno. They might never get them all. But I'd imagine it'll take months to get anywhere near the whole lot of them." He flipped over on his stomach and looked down at Ron. "Wish they'd let me help. We could probably have more of them put away by now."

"Don't be silly, Harry," Hermione said, not bothering to look up from her book. "You know they're not going to let you out in the field anytime soon."

"I know, but-"

"There's probably a very heavy price on your head."

"But Voldemort's gone. Who would they-"

"The last thing we need is something for the remaining Death Eaters to rally around," Hermione said stiffly. "You've risked your neck enough this past year. You don't need to jump back into the action right away. Take a break, you've earned it."

"He's not on about that again, is he?" Ginny appeared suddenly with her hands on her hips. She shot Harry a fierce look. "Just drop it, alright? No one's going to let you out of their sight for a few weeks, maybe months."

"Great," Harry said bitterly. "Just when I thought I had the chance to be a person again…"

"Better a live person than a dead one," Ginny snapped.

"Just tell that to all the people who died because of me," Harry said. He stood up and wiped the dirt from his trousers. "I'm going for a walk."

Ginny, Hermione, and Ron watched as he stalked out of the garden. Ginny sighed. "He just wants to be useful so badly."

"He can't be useful without putting himself in danger," Hermione said. "And none of us want that."

"I know that," Ginny said. "But…I wish there was something I could do. Oh, by the way," she added, "Mum sent me looking for you."

"We're not doing anything wrong," Ron whined.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, it's not that. You've got company. Look, I'm going after Harry, but don't wait too long to get inside, or Mum'll have my head for it." She hurried away after Harry and Hermione turned to Ron.

"Did she say we have company? Who could be visiting us?"

"The better question," Ron said, "is who could be visiting us that doesn't want to see Harry?"

"Unless they want to see Harry and we're being sent in without him."

"Merlin's pants, if this is another reporter-"

"Your parents wouldn't let them onto the property."

"There's some fishy people out there, though, Hermione."

They argued all the way back to the Burrow about who could be visiting them and just what they could want, each suggestion more ridiculous than the last. By the time they slipped into the kitchen, they had collapsed in a fit of laughter.

"Oh, good, I was wondering where you had gotten off to," Mrs. Weasley said from the counter. "What's so funny?" She looked around and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And where's Harry? Wasn't he with you?"

"He and Ginny are discussing something," Hermione said quickly. "We just lost them on our way in. Harry's…having a moment."

"Oh." Mrs. Weasley looked pensive for a moment, but her cheery smile returned and she went back to chopping onions. "Your father's in the sitting room, waiting for you. Things need to be discussed."

Ron suppressed a groan, remembering the last time he'd had a conversation with his father. "Alright, I'll be back in a minute, Hermione."

"No, no," Mrs. Weasley piped up, shaking her head. "He needs to see her, too."

Hermione seemed just as confused as Ron. She raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged and led her into the other room. Mr. Weasley was in mid-conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the both of them looked nearly unrecognizable with the bright smiles they had on their faces.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, pausing just past the doorway. Hermione stopped beside him.

"It's good to see you again, Kingsley," she greeted politely. She shot Ron a warning look, but he shrugged it off.

"A pleasure as always, Miss Granger," Kingsley said, nodding at her and Ron. "I'm here on business. I have details concerning your trip."

Hermione's heart leapt to her throat. She lost all train of thought for a moment before a grin broke out on her face. She sat down on the loveseat. "Really?"

Kingsley nodded. "Almost everything is set for you to go. Your portkey is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Will that give you enough time to get to your home and figure out what it is you need?"

"The day after tomorrow? That soon?" Hermione looked up at Ron, positively beaming. Her happiness was contagious. He grinned back. "That should be plenty of time. Will the portkey be leaving from there?"

"It's stationed a few blocks over," Kingsley explained, holding up a folder. "This is all of your portkey information. Look it over carefully. You're not meant to take it with you. And you won't be going alone to your parents' home, either. You've hidden it well. We haven't found a thing in your neighborhood."

"Of course she hid it well," Ron said. "What did you expect? What, it's the truth?" he insisted when Hermione shot him another disapproving look.

But Kingsley smiled. "I assure you, I expected nothing less. But just because we haven't found it, that doesn't mean that someone else hasn't."

"Do you have any Aurors to spare?" Hermione asked quietly before biting her bottom lip.

"Charlie's volunteered to go along," Mr. Weasley interjected. "He'll escort you all to your home and stay with you until your portkey sends you on."

"Does he have time for that?"

"I don't think he would volunteer if he didn't."

Hermione nodded and looked at Ron. "What do you think?"

Ron looked around at his company. "Well…I don't see why it wouldn't work. I mean, that gives us time to pack up tonight, go fix up your parents' house tomorrow, and then…yeah, it'll be quick and we won't have to worry about it anymore." He turned his attention to Hermione. "You're good with this?"

She nodded again, much more enthusiastically this time. "I'm more than good with this. This is…amazing. Kingsley, thank you so much. I…I can't…thank you," she managed as a tear fell from the corner of her eye. Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"It's the least I can do," Kingsley said. "After all you've done for our world, I don't think this even begins to cover what we owe you. Well, I should be off," he announced, standing. He handed the folder to Ron. "Best of luck with your trip. And if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Mr. Weasley escorted Kingsley out of the room. Hermione wiped a few tears from her eyes and took the folder from Ron. "The day after tomorrow. I'll have to compile a list of dentist offices in Australia. And think of all the laundry that has to get done today. We'll have so much to pack, and I'm insisting we take more money for food this time because it's not as if-"

"Hermione." Ron grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look up at him.

"What?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Breathe," Ron said. "Take a deep breath. It's going to be fine. Everything is going to be alright."

For a moment, Hermione said nothing. A single tear streaked down her cheek. And then she smiled, looking absolutely deliriously happy. "You're right," she said softly. "You're right. It will be."

The next day, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Charlie left for the Grangers' home. Ron had only been there on one other occasion, when they had collected Hermione for the Quidditch World Cup, and that had been years ago. Members of the Order had gone to get her each summer after. He remembered with a pang the moment a year ago when she had turned up sobbing on his doorstep with Tonks. Still, the one time he had seen Hermione's house, all he'd seen was the corridor and sitting room, and from tidbits of information he had collected from Hermione's conversations since, they had redecorated in the meantime.

He didn't even remember the neighborhood, since they had taken the fireplace. They appeared in an alleyway a few blocks from her home just minutes before seven in the morning. Hermione said it was unlikely that any of her neighbors would be outside at that hour on a Friday, and if any of them were, she hardly thought they had the right to question them. They walked the rest of the way. Harry and Charlie walked behind them. Hermione led the way, hand in hand with Ron.

The closer they got, the harder Hermione's grip on Ron's hand became. When they turned onto her street, she stopped. "Hermione?" Ron said gently. Her head snapped up to look at him. Charlie and Harry kept a safe distance and began discussing the weather a bit loudly. "You okay?" She nodded. "We can stop here for a second if you-"

"No," Hermione said quickly. "No, it's fine. It's just…" She swallowed. "I just remembered, I'd put most of my things in storage. Well, see, Wendell and Monica don't have a daughter, and it wouldn't make any sense at all to leave a room full of a teenager's possessions there, would it?"

Ron's heartbeat quickened considerably. He hadn't thought about her bedroom. He'd never seen where Hermione Granger slept at night, save the tent and the summers she had stayed with him. But he had never seen her dormitory at Hogwarts, and the only time he had seen her home…It seemed almost unfair, that she had seen both his dormitory and bedroom. And now he wasn't even going to see her completed bedroom.

"Well," Ron said finally. "No, I guess not."

"I paid for them to store my things for two years," Hermione said. "I wasn't sure how long we'd be, and…well, I guess it could even stay there until we're finished with Hogwarts," she added as an afterthought. Ron's gut dropped at the words. He had still not told her that he planned to take Kingsley's deal, and now was certainly not the right time. "We should go ahead." She took a deep breath and began walking, now at a faster pace.

It was the fifth house down on their side of the street. Hermione stopped abruptly in front of it and stared. The two story brick building looked normal enough. There was a black iron fence around the yard, which was not nearly as overgrown as Ron had expected it to be (he learned later that Hermione's parents had hired one of the neighborhood boys to keep it groomed). There was a walkway up the middle of the lawn, leading to the front door. It looked as if it had been left untouched. But Ron knew by now not to judge things by their first appearance-especially where dark magic was involved.

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand with all her might before she let go and walked up to the gate. She stared for a few more seconds before she glanced around, checking for passersby, and began to weave through the familiar spells Ron recognized as the ones she had been placing them under for the past few months. When she finished, the boys gaped at her in awe.

"It was a bit trickier, this one," Hermione explained. "I had to make sure the Muggles could still see it. And then there was the garden boy, and-oh, honestly, stop looking at me like that."

Ron promptly replaced his jaw to its proper position. "You're bloody brilliant. You know that, right?"

Hermione gazed at him in a way that had only recently become familiar to him, a look that told him she had to care for him at least half as much as he cared for her.

The yard seemed to be free of any sort of magic other than Hermione's protective charms. Harry and Charlie took the lead, checking the entirety of the structure before they deemed it safe to go inside. Ron sighed when they stepped inside, relieved to see that the place looked unscathed. Harry and Charlie inspected the corridor before they moved on to the sitting room. Ron started to follow until he felt Hermione grab his arm. He turned back to see that she looked extremely paranoid.

"Hermione, you did a brilliant job with those charms," Ron said. He pulled her into his arms and rested his head on top of hers. "There's no way they got in. Everything looks good so far."

"I just have this really awful feeling," Hermione whispered. "I just…Ron, stay with me, okay?" Ron nodded.

"It's good in here," Harry called a few minutes later. "We're going to check out the kitchen." He appeared in the doorway again. "Think you can handle the upper level?"

"We'll take care of it," Hermione said quickly. She grabbed Ron by the hand and led him up the stairs at the end of the corridor. It was painted beige, as was the corridor on the upper level. Hermione checked for any signs of magic before they moved along, her hand still grasping his for dear life. She turned right and checked over the door at the end of the hall. "This is my parents' room," she said in a hushed voice. When she deemed it safe, she unlocked and opened the door with her wand.

Ron stood in the doorway and took in the room. The walls were covered in dark green and white striped wall paper. The oak bed frame held a large, stripped mattress. There were matching bits and pieces, such as bedside tables and a bureau. Hermione checked them all over, opening each drawer and inspecting it carefully. Ron inspected the empty closet, which seemed to be free of harm.

"Where to next?" he asked when he turned away from the closet. Hermione didn't answer for a few moments.

"There's a bathroom," she said quietly. "A bathroom, a storage closet, and…there's my room."

Before she could have time to settle on it, Ron pulled her out of her parents' room and back down the hall. They made quick work of the storage closet and bathroom, the latter of which gave them a bit of angst. As they were searching the room, one of the pipes under the sink burst. Upon further inspection, Hermione, who was relieved, told Ron that it had simply seen better days and was ready to be replaced. She did a bit of spell work to hold it together until it could be replaced and they moved on.

Finally, they were standing outside of Hermione's room, separated from it by only her door. Ron's mind flipped through several possibilities, all of which involved bookshelves, differing in shades of paint and wall paper patterns. "You know," Ron said, breaking the tension, "I've never seen your bedroom."

Hermione looked back at him and smiled. "You haven't, have you?" Ron nodded, doing his best not to look eager. "Hm. Well, I can assure you," she began as she twisted the doorknob, "it's really not that-"

Whatever it wasn't, Ron did not find out. Hermione shrieked and backed into him as he rushed forward to see what was wrong. He gripped her shoulders as she slapped her hand over her mouth, forcing herself to be silent. "Oh, it's just-it's awful," Hermione choked. She broke out into sobs and turned into Ron, who held her securely against him while he assessed the problem.

Ron supposed it had once been a very lovely room. It was painted a very light shade purple. The bookshelves he had always imagined where there. There were at least two of them knocked to the floor. The books which had once occupied them were scattered across the floor, loose pages and detached bindings among them. Her bed was nestled in the far corner of the room, but the bare mattress was leaned up against her desk, which was sitting on its side. A globe and some small figurines laid in pieces on the floor.

Before Ron could form any sort of reaction, he heard Harry and Charlie rushing up the stairs. "What is it?" Harry asked. "Are you guys okay?" He rushed forward and gaped at what remained of Hermione's bedroom. "Oh, Hermione. I'm so, so sorry."

"Oh, Harry, it's just awful." She detached herself from Ron long enough to hug Harry. "I don't know why they would do this. The rest of the house seems fine."

"The rest of the house checks out, yeah," Charlie agreed. "It's odd. They could have been trying to scare you. Or maybe this is all they wanted to see."

"Do you have an attic?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded vigorously. "Alright, we'd better check up there. Ron, do you think you can handle this?"

"I've got it," Ron said thickly as anger boiled in his veins.

Charlie led Harry to the attic and Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron again. "Ron," she cried. "Ron, I'm…I'm so scared. What if they-"

Ron snapped. He'd had enough. In the past week, Hermione had gone without waking from a nightmare only once. Sometimes, she had them more than once a night. That night would be no exception. Ron could feel it, especially after this. They had come out of this war ready to start fresh, and they were still being tormented. It wasn't fair.

"Your parents are fine," Ron said harshly. "They are. They've done enough to you. They haven't got your parents." Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. "I know it's bloody scary right now, the way things are, but they're…they're over. We can't keep letting them come after us. They've done their part to ruin our lives, and it stops now. So you parents are fine," he said again. "They're fucked up your room, and they…they hurt you. But that's where it stops. There won't be anymore."

With a quiet sob, Hermione burrowed herself further into Ron's arms. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered. Ron could sense the depth of it. She was glad he was here, at her parents' house. She was glad he was with her, that they were together. She was glad that he was alive…

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm glad you're here, too. Alright, c'mon, let's clean it up."

"Checkmate."

"What? No."

"Yeah, mate, right there."

"Damn. How'd I miss that?"

Ron leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "Good question. I bet a blinding widow could have spotted it quicker than you did."

Harry scowled and mirrored Ron in his own chair. "Good game, I guess."

"Yeah, it was."

"Don't be a prick."

"I'm not," Ron laughed. "Lucky Hermione left this chess set here, or I'd be bored out of my mind."

"You and me both. Where is Hermione?"

Ron shrugged. "Somewhere with Charlie. I think they're setting up things for tonight."

Harry nodded. The boys sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, during which Ron studied the detail in the trim around the ceiling. It was an intricate pattern, something that seemed very Hermione-like. He smiled. The Grangers' home seemed to radiate bits and pieces of her. It wasn't difficult at all for him to imagine her growing up there. He wondered what life might have been like if he had met her sooner.

"Hey, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you…have you talked to Hermione?"

"Uh." Ron looked over at Harry. "In general, or…?"

"About the Auror thing," Harry said. Ron shook his head. "Oh." There was another moment of silence between them, this one less comfortable than the last. "Don't you think you should-"

"I'll get to it, alright?" Ron snapped. "Look, Hermione's going through a lot right now. I want to get all of this with her parents out of the way before we talk about it."

"Do you think she'll be okay with it?"

Ron paused. "No."

"I didn't think so, either. Not that I blame her."

"I don't either," Ron said. "I can't go back there, though. And she'll understand that. She has to understand that, doesn't she?"

"I have to understand what?" Hermione asked as she sauntered inside with Charlie trailing along behind her. Ron looked helplessly at Harry.

"The Muggle chess set is too boring for him," Harry improvised. Hermione snorted and sat on the arm of Ron's chair.

"And you didn't think to charm it?"

"Er." Harry and Ron exchanged a glance of relief. "Well, no."

"Give us a break, Hermione," Ron whined. He pulled her from the arm and into his lap. "It's been a long day. How are we supposed to remember we're Wizards all the bloody time?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it's not that difficult. At least, it shouldn't be for the two of you." She leaned forward and tapped at the pieces one by one, muttering an incantation and bringing them to life. Once she was finished, the chess pieces aligned themselves properly on the board, and she sat back against Ron with a satisfied smile on her face. "There. Now you don't even have to move. And to think you two brought down Voldemort," mumbled, shaking her head.

Ron looked between the chess board and the girl in his lap several times. "I love you, Hermione."

She looked up at Ron and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, too." She kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"I think that's our cue, Charlie."

"Oh, shut up, Harry."

Ron and Hermione were eating breakfast the next morning when Harry arrived in the dining room, fully dressed. "Eager to start the day?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked between his best friends and sighed. "I'm not going with you."

Ron paused with the spoon of cereal halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean you're not going with us?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I just think it'd be better if…I'm going to make an appearance at the Ministry. That'll make it so no one's suspicious of our whereabouts or coming after us."

"Harry-" Hermione started, but he wouldn't let her finish.

"And I think you two could use the time alone. Erm, together," he said quickly. "I mean, with September and everything-"

"Harry," Ron said warningly.

"What about September?" Hermione asked. Harry caught Ron's eye and stopped, realizing the mistake he had made. He had the decency to look guilty, though it only spurred Hermione on. "Ron? What's he talking about?"

"It's nothing," Harry said quickly. "The point is I would only put you guys in more danger. If I'm out of the picture on this one, you'll get done sooner and it'll be safer."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to change his mind. Besides, she could use the time with Ron. "When are you going back?"

"Erm…now, actually," Harry admitted. He motioned to the doorway, where his bag was waiting for him. "Charlie will still take the two of you where you need to go, but he's taking me back to the Burrow first. The sooner you two start on this, the better, right?"

Hermione nodded and stood to hug him. They did not let go for several minutes; they seemd to only just realized that it would be the first time they were apart for more than a few hours in nearly a year. "Be careful, okay?" Harry said. He smiled at Ron over her shoulder as Hermione nodded before giving her a kiss on the side of her head.

"You too," Hermione said nervously. "I mean it, Harry. You know I worry about you."

Harry shook his head at her. "Yeah, I know." He and Ron hugged quickly. "Take care of her, alright?"

Ron snorted. "Always do, don't I?" Harry smirked and nodded.

"Right, well…I'll see you guys back home, yeah?"

Hermione made him and Charlie apparate there so she could see for herself that nothing had happened to them. Once they had left, a heavy silence filled the room. "Ron," Hermione said finally, "what did he mean about September?" Ron hadn't been sure how he was going to tell her he didn't plan to go to Hogwarts this year-that he couldn't go back to Hogwarts-but this certainly had not been one of his plans. "You're taking Kingsley's deal, aren't you?"

Ron took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I can't go back," he said after several tense moments. "And this is what I've always wanted. Well, except…except you won't be there, but…" He trailed off. The thought of separation from the one thing that had been keeping him sane these past few weeks wasn't one he could bear.

"Oh," Hermione said blankly. "Oh. Okay. I mean, we still have a few weeks after this. A few months. And then I'll only be gone until June, and…and…" Ron realized then that Hermione was as desperate to stay with him as he was to stay with her. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and crying against his chest. "I'm sorry, I just…I'll miss you. I wish you could go."

Ron reciprocated the hug immediately, planting kisses throughout Hermione's hair. "I know, I wish I could, too, but…I can't handle it. I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to go on with this."

"I know." Hermione pulled back and wiped her eyes. "I know you do. I want you to. You'll make a brilliant Auror."

"You think so?"

"I do, and there's no point in going back an extra year when you don't have to. It's just, I'll miss you. I'll miss you more than I can stand. I'm used to you being there when I wake up and there when I fall sleep and-it'll be lonely." A few more tears ran down her cheeks. "It'll be okay, though, right? We'll owl, and there's the Christmas holiday, and Hogsmeade weekends."

Ron stroked her cheek. "Yeah, see, we'll be okay. It'll be fine. And we've got all summer."

Hermione nodded eagerly and attacked his lips with hers, kissing him while she pressed the entirety of her body against his. "I'll miss this," she whispered between wet, sloppy kisses. "I'll miss this so much."

Ron pulled her head away to catch his breath. "We've got time for this, Hermione."

She gave him a disbelieving smile. They had the future now. They could plan ahead. "I know."

He grinned. "Good."

They had finally made it. After nearly a week of searching, hotel hopping, and griping about the weather, Ron and Hermione were standing outside of a small, rundown building. The walls were made of gray brick and the roof, which looked to be in desperate need of replacement, was shabby and chipped. There was a small parking lot off to the side, but it was nearly empty. The place wasn't very different from any of the other locations they'd visited, but the moment Hermione laid eyes on it, she knew that it was different. It was as if a neon arrow had dropped from the sky, stopping just over the already caving ceiling, telling her that this was it, that this place was special. It was what she was looking for.

"Ron," Hermione whispered nervously. She gripped the wrinkled map they'd taken with them all week in her hand and froze completely. Her eyes looked the place up and down before settling on the address plate next to the door. "Ron, I think…I think this is it."

It was the last thing Ron had been expecting to hear, but as soon as the words left Hermione's lips, he hurried to her side. As he surveyed the building, his excitement began to fade. "Erm…Hermione? No offense, but…what is it that makes this place so special?"

He braced himself for a foul look, but one never came. Instead, Hermione stared straight ahead at the building. "I…I don't know. I honestly can't say, but…Ron, this is it. I know it is."

Hermione reached out for his hand and Ron delivered it to her without a second thought. He was baffled, wondering why, suddenly, his logical and no nonsense girlfriend was relying on instinct and emotion for such an important matter. But, then again, Hermione had been away from her parents for longer than he'd been away from his, and all the while, she'd had no way of knowing just where they were or if they were alright the way that he had. He guessed that she was allowed a few moments of hope without cause. Wasn't that all anyone ever wanted, anyway? No, no matter what Hermione was usually like, if she was certain that her parents were inside the very building they were looking at, he was going to trust her instinct and pray that she was right, just like he usually did.

Ron nodded and looked down at the bushy-haired girl beside him. "Well, what are we waiting for then? Don't you want to go and see your parents?" Hermione finally broke her gaze and glanced up at him. She beamed and he grinned back.

"Yes. Yes, I do." Hermione walked forward into the building, dragging Ron along behind her through the narrow doorway. She dropped his hand once they were inside and kept going. Ron paused to look around. They had stumbled into a tiny waiting room. There was a telly in one corner and two rows of chairs through the middle, back to back. Each had a table full of magazines that Ron thought looked rather boring. Then again, Muggles didn't have moving pictures, so it was only natural that their entertainment value would be limited.

"I don't have an appointment, no," Ron heard Hermione say. He tore his eyes away from a magazine with a still picture of an old, well dressed man on the cover and walked up behind her at the receptionists' desk. "See, I was hoping you could tell me if I might find the Wilkins here. Mondell and Wendi-no, sorry, Monica and Wendell," she corrected, stomping on Ron's foot after he snorted.

The young woman at the desk frowned. "I'm sorry, no. I don't know anyone by those names. Are they patients?" She opened a drawer and began to thumb through files, searching for the Wilkins.

Ron's stomach dropped and he put his hands on Hermione's shoulders immediately, wondering how much worse she felt than he did. So it had turned out to be just another place to check off the list. He was disappointed, more for Hermione's sake than anything.

"Oh," Hermione blurted several moments later. "Oh, no, they're not…they're not patients. I think I have the wrong office. I'm terribly sorry."

Before the woman could look up from her drawer, Hermione had torn away from the desk and was on her way out the building. The bells of the front door tinkled as she went. Ron let out a dramatic sigh.

"Sorry about that," he apologized quickly. "I'll just be-"

"Liza, what's the problem here?"

An older woman appeared behind the young receptionist, eyeing Ron and his battered coat skeptically. "Can I help you, young man?"

"They were looking for someone is all," Liza piped up as she slammed the drawer shut. "The Wendells, but we-"

"Wilkins," Ron corrected.

"Right, Wilkins," Liza amended. "But I told them we don't have any patients by that name."

"We weren't looking for patients," Ron said, rubbing his temple. The longer he stayed and listened to this daft woman, the further away and more upset Hermione was getting. "Look, sorry, we've made a mistake, but I've got to-"

"Liza, you silly girl, you've got it wrong," the older receptionist chastised, acting as if she hadn't heard Ron at all. "The Wilkins' are dentists."

"We don't have a dentist called The Wilkins," Liza scoffed.

The older woman clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Unbelievable. Sir, excuse her, please. Apparently we need to reevaluate our training programs." Liza looked away at a blank form, acting as if it had the world's greatest novel written across it. "The Wilkins, the dentist couple, yes? Late forties? They used to be here, alright. Moved up the country just a few weeks ago for a change of scenery. Odd folks, if you ask me, but if you're looking for them, they're up by Darwin somewhere."

Ron's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe his luck. "You mean Monica and Wendell Wilkins, right?" he asked, disbelieving still.

The older woman rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, the very same. I don't have an address to give you," she added quickly, and by the way she was eyeballing his clothes, Ron had a feeling she wouldn't have given him one whether she had it or not.

"No, no, that's helpful enough," Ron laughed. He couldn't wait to tell Hermione and see the look on her face. "Thanks, ma'am. Thanks so much."

Ron ran out of the building, ignoring the lady's calls about tracking dirt onto the carpet as he went. All he cared about right now was seeing Hermione and telling her their luck. But when he reached the little parking lot, he didn't see her anywhere.

"Hermione?" Ron called into the empty air. He waited for an answer, but none came. He started to panic. "Bloody hell, Hermione, if you don't answer-"

"I'm over here."

Ron whipped around, but he still didn't see Hermione. He followed the sound of her voice, walking along the edge of the parking lot quickly until he came to the corner of the building. Just around it, Hermione was sitting against the wall with her head in her hands.

"I just wanted to see them," she mumbled. "I wanted it so badly, and so I built up the idea in my head, and I was so sure." She stopped herself and stood up, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Oh well. That's what I get for being foolish, isn't it? I guess we'll just have to try some-what are you smiling like that for? It's not funny."

Ron shook his head and chuckled. "No, what's funny is that stupid secretary. Hermione, your parents were here."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What? When? As patients?"

"No, no, they worked here," Ron said anxiously. "Some other woman came out and gave the secretary hell for it. She said they just moved a few weeks ago. They're up by Darwin."

For a moment, Hermione's face lit up. And then she frowned. "Ron, do you have any idea just how big Darwin is? It's a monster of a city. There's no way we'll-"

"But the phonebook-"

"Probably hasn't been updated since they moved there," Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. "It'll take us days, and I don't even know where to begin."

"We shouldn't have just shown up like this," Hermione said. She squeezed Ron's hand as the pair looked down the block of a bustling city, alive with the glow of nightlife. "I have no idea where we're going, nor do you, and all I can sense coming out of this is a complete disaster, one that doesn't include my parents, unfortunately."

"Would you relax?" Ron snapped, though he was certain Hermione was right. Perhaps they should have done some more digging before they showed up. After all, they had only been told the outskirts of the city, and that could mean anything. A suburb, the middle of nowhere, off a highway, whatever that was. He had known better than to ask Hermione what she was talking about when she had been talking so quickly and in such a frenzy. "Look, let's go and get some food. There's tons of restaurants on this street. We can relax, have a look at maps, find a place to stay. What do you think?"

Hermione worried her bottom lip as her eyes scanned the city. Finally, she nodded. "I guess that's the only choice we have right now, isn't it?"

"Well…just about."

She nodded. "Let's go, then. The Chinese place looks promising, don't you think?" She tightened her hold on Ron's hand and tentatively led the way through the bustling crowd, careful to avoid touching anyone if she could. As they approached the small restaurant, Ron noticed several small, black tables through the window, nearly all of which were empty. A man was standing at the counter, waiting for someone, and a small family sat right beneath the neon sign in the window. The bells sang when Hermione pushed the door open with her free hand, still tugging Ron along with the other, and the lone customer at the counter glanced back at them.

Hermione stopped and gasped. Ron ran into her, nearly sending them both to the ground. He took a step back and glanced down; his shoelace was untied. He bent to fix it and the man at the counter laughed gently.

"Ron."

"Hang on, I have to tie-"

"Ron, look," Hermione hissed. Suddenly alert, Ron's eyes flashed up. Hermione was staring the back of the man at the counter. He was dressed in beige slacks and a powder blue sweater. He seemed…ordinary.

"What am I looking at?" Ron whispered back as he stood. And then he realized: he was staring at the back of Mr. Granger. What were the odds? He didn't get to look for much longer. The man working the counter appeared suddenly with a large paper bag. Mr. Granger took it, thanked him, and walked out of the restaurant without so much as a glance in their direction.

"Can I help you?"

Hermione was still staring after her father. "Um…no," Ron said, turning for the door. He grabbed Hermione by the arm. "We've got…things…and…" He trailed off as the two bolted out of the store, the bells clanging behind them.

Mr. Granger had parked across the street in a small, silver car. As he fiddled with the door handle, Hermione hailed a taxi. "What are we taking that for?" Ron asked cautiously as the car stopped beside them.

"Trust me," Hermione said. "There's no way we could follow him without giving the Muggles something to suspect." She climbed into the backseat of the car and Ron followed reluctantly. "I need you to follow that man," Hermione said, pointing at her father's car, which was pulling away from the curb.

"Erm…" The cab driver looked back at them in the rear view mirror. "I'm afraid I can't-"

"That's my uncle," Hermione sneered. "He's being downright cruel and insisting he has no room in the car for us, but we're meant to be at my aunt's for dinner, and I don't know how he expects us to get there. And it's not my fault he thinks his wife's sleeping with my father. You'd think a man would be able to set aside such personal things when it comes to his niece, but-"

"Alright, alright," the driver the howled. "Enough. I'm following him."

Hermione smiled brightly and leaned back against the seat. "Thank you. That's very helpful."

Impressed, Ron looked down at her and smiled. Then he settled back in the seat beside her. For a good twenty minutes, they sat in silence, listening to the blaring pop music coming from the radio until it faded out. The city fell back as they traveled, moving into a small suburb, and then to another, and then, finally, what felt like the middle of nowhere. The houses were about two miles apart out here, something Hermione was not used to seeing. Finally, the silver car ahead of them slowed before turning into a long, winding driveway.

"Wait," Hermione exclaimed before the driver could turn. "This is fine. You've done enough." She opened her purse and handed him a small wad of Muggle bills. "Thank you, you've been lovely." She and Ron climbed out of their seats and into the dark, windy country. The taxi zoomed away.

"Now what?" Ron asked.

"Now…now we walk up the drive," Hermione said simply. "And we wait for them to open the door. And we…" She hadn't thought this far ahead just yet. They what? Ambush them? No, there had to be a way to explain, to get their feet in the door. "We'll just have to see what happens when we get there." She glanced up at Ron before walking forward. He caught up with her a moment later and, together, they finished their journey.

By the time the house came into view, Hermione was shaking. What would happen if she didn't get her chance? What if they called the police? She'd never be allowed near them again and the damage would be irreversible. "I should have thought this through better than I did," Hermione said, stopping in her tracks. "I haven't got the slightest clue what to do when we get them at the door."

"Just be quick about it," Ron said with a shrug. "Point your wand, say the spell, and you're done. And then once you've got one of them, it'll be easy to coax the other into having it done. Well…alright, maybe not, but we'll have a better shot at not having the policemen called on us with three on one, don't you think?"

"That sounds so-oh, Ron, you said it correctly."

"Said what?"

"Policemen."

"So? What's the big deal?"

Hermione beamed up at him. "Nothing, I guess." She kissed him on the cheek as his ears grew pinker with each passing second. "I'm just proud of you is all. You'd have never done that a few years ago."

Ron shrugged. "I've picked up a few things over the years."

"I know, and it shows." Hermione took a few deep breaths and began walking again. "Alright, Ron, back me up. Tell me I'm not being barbaric or-"

"You're getting your parents back," Ron said. "I don't think that's barbaric at all." He squeezed her shoulders gently as he walked behind her. "Let's get this done with."

The pair stepped up onto the wraparound porch as a breeze traveled through, whipping Hermione's hair all around her face. She pushed it back over her shoulders and froze as she studied the chipping burgundy paint on the front door. After a moment of contemplation, she knocked. Ron waited, not doing so much as blinking. Hermione was about to knock again when she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, growing louder every second. She reached for her wand and swallowed.

"I don't know if I-"

"You can do it."

The door swung open and the cheerful face of Mr. Granger appeared. He didn't seem to remember them from the restaurant. "Can I help you?"

There was an awkward pause. Ron waited for Hermione to speak, but nothing happened. Mr. Granger was growing more and more confused. "Um," Ron began. "Hello. We-"

A dark purple beam shot out of the end of Hermione's wand, hitting Mr. Granger in the temple. Ron's jaw dropped and he watched, awestruck, as Hermione continued twisting her wrist. Mr. Granger's eyes moved back and forth and, if Ron didn't know better, he might have thought he was dreaming. After a minute or so, his eyes slowed and the purple beam began to grow dimmer. Hermione dropped her wand and Mr. Granger's eyes stopped moving. The trio stood silently as Ron and Hermione waited anxiously. Finally, Mr. Granger looked up at them.

"Hermione?"

"What made you think you had the right?"

"You're my parents. Of course I had the-"

"We were fine where we were, and you just uprooted us for no-"

"You could have been killed!"

"So could you! It's a miracle you're still alive."

"I wasn't going to leave you unprotected like that."

"You should have come with us."

"No, I couldn't possibly have-"

"It's nothing to be worried about," Mr. Granger said suddenly. Ron looked up at him from his corner of the sofa and smiled politely. "They argue like this all the time about the silliest things. I think they're doing fairly well, considering the circumstances."

Ron nodded. He allowed the silence to envelope them once more. "Look, Mr. Granger," he said, breaking it a few minutes later. Hermione and her mother were still yelling in the kitchen and they showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. He figured he might as well make the most of the time he was spending with his girlfriend's father. "I'm sorry about all this. It must be…well, difficult," he said, bowing his head as words seemed to fail him. How could he express how much had changed and how much was messed up because of the war? He swallowed and continued.

"I didn't realize what Hermione was going to do until she had done it. And, to be honest, I can't think of a better solution," he admitted. "Things were really bad in our world. I'm sure you didn't know just how bad, but…well, no one could trust the Ministry. We could barely trust each other."

"That bad?"

"Yeah, that bad. And Hermione…she loves both of you. And she wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to you. That's why she did it. She didn't see another way. She was just trying to look out for the both of you."

Mr. Granger nodded solemnly. "I suppose a year with false memories is better than ending up dead. And my wife will see it that way, too. Eventually," he added as the voices in the kitchen reached new heights. "She's scared and she's upset. I'm sure you can understand why."

"Well, yeah," Ron admitted. "But don't you think she'd have done the same if it had been the other way around?"

"I do," Mr. Granger said. "And I think, Ron, that you've hit the nail on the head there. See, parents are supposed to look out for their children." He fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper. "Parents shouldn't be looked after. And when a child has to take on that role…well, it's not something any parent wants for them, to say the least. And I think she feels she failed Hermione."

Ron frowned. "How did she fail her?"

"She couldn't protect her."

"Of course not," Ron said. "Vol-Voldemort was one of the most powerful Wizards of our time. It's nothing to take personally."

"I know that," Mr. Granger said. "And she knows that. But…well, you'll understand one day, once you have children. There's nothing I wouldn't do for Hermione and…well, I wish I could have protected her from all that. I know it's not ideal, but if I could build a brick wall around her or dig a moat to keep her from getting hurt ever again, I would. It's the parental instinct."

"But then she'd be miserable."

"Yes, she would. Ah," Mr. Granger said as Hermione entered the room. Mrs. Granger followed and Hermione looked angrier than Ron could recall seeing her. "Talked things through, have you?"

"No," Mrs. Granger spat. "But I can't think about any of this any longer. I'm going to bed." She saw Ron sitting on the sofa and smiled. "There's some tea left in the kitchen if you'd like any, Ron. Feel free to help yourself to the fridge, too." She turned back to Hermione. "We'll sort this out in the morning. I can't stand to entertain all of this right now." Ron thought she was going to storm out of the room, but instead, she turned back to her daughter and hugged her. "I'm glad you're here," she said softly. Hermione mumbled something to her and they chuckled. "I'm off to bed. Good night, you lot."

Though she was exhausted by the 'conversation' with her mother, Hermione found the energy to smile at Ron. "We should get to bed, too," she decided. We've a couple of long days. I think we could use some rest."

"Yeah, I'm about ready to get to sleep," Ron said, stretching.

"Good, I'll show you to your rooms," Mr. Granger said. Ron and Hermione followed him up a narrow staircase, linked at the fingers. When they reached the landing, he motioned to the bedroom on the left, "Hermione, this should be fine for you," and then to the right, "and Ron, you can stay in here."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, but Ron nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll see you in the morning," he told Hermione. She sighed, but kissed him on the cheek.

"Sleep well."

Ron went into the bedroom and shut the door. It was small and comfortable, with checkered drapes and a twin bed with nothing but sheets and a quilt. He tried not to think about Hermione, who was still talking to her father on the other side of the door, and slipped out of his jeans. As he lay back on the bed, he heard the shuffling of feet and door somewhere down the hall shut. His bedroom door slipped open.

"Hermione," Ron said quietly, "if your parents catch us in here-"

"Get off the bed for a minute," Hermione whispered, thrusting her purse at him. "You've got pajamas in there somewhere."

Ron did as he was told. He changed quickly and packed away the old change of clothes. Once he was ready to hand the purse off to Hermione, she had finished moving his bed away from the wall. "What did you do that for?"

"It'll help me sleep," she said as she picked up the pillows and set them on the foot of the bed. "You'll see in a minute." She fluffed them a bit and then turned to retrieve her purse. "Leave the door open, alright? I've put up some enchantments for the night. I think we'll be safe. But just…I'll feel better if it's open."

Though he was confused, Ron did not argue. "Alright." He kissed her. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight." She beamed and kissed him again, this time allowing her lips to linger on his a bit longer. She walked across the hall to her room and Ron, still baffled, lay back on the bed again. He rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. It had been an exhausting week, as worthwhile as it was, and he wouldn't be surprised if he slipped into unconsciousness in a matter of seconds.

"Ron."

Ron opened his eyes to the darkness and rolled onto his side. He could see Hermione lying on the bed across the hall, her head just visible in the doorway.

"You're brilliant," he said. She smiled.

"Is this alright, then?"

"More than alright." He adjusted himself on the mattress. "It makes me feel better, too."

"I thought it might." She looked down at her hand sadly and Ron knew she was missing him as much as he was missing having her there next to him. "Maybe I'll be able to sleep now. I'm exhausted, and it would be awful if I couldn't sleep."

"You'll be fine," Ron said. "Just close your eyes." She closed them. "I'm still here."

Hermione giggled. "Good. I'm glad. Sweet dreams, Ron. I love you."

Ron closed his eyes, too. "Love you, Hermione." He slept soundly through the night.