Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

Ann Margaret

Story Summary:
The end of the series from our favorite herione's point of view--discover the millions of things that happened that not even the Boy Who Lived knew about! Follows Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

Chapter 01a - Chapter One

Chapter Summary:
Hermione prepares herself for leaving her family behind--the family she has lied to for years...
Posted:
09/04/2007
Hits:
6,057


The chime of a doorbell reverberated warmly throughout every room of the Granger household, but the solid oak front doors remained stubbornly closed and locked, barring everyone from entry. Perturbed, the visitors inspected the mysterious button, wondering if they had read the instruction manual incorrectly and hadn't used the Muggle device correctly, but a tense yet determined voice floated out to them.

"Who is it?"

"Arthur Weasley," the first man identified himself.

"What's your secret ambition?"

"To find how Muggle aeroplanes stay in the air," Mr. Weasley returned promptly. "What did you get on your Charms exam at the end of first-year?"

"One hundred and twelve," Hermione Granger answered as she opened the door to her home, wand at the ready, hair piled haphazardly atop her head in a vain attempt to keep it out of her face. Her eyes were slightly puffy and bloodshot, as if she had spent long hours of the night reading frantically rather than sleeping comfortably in her bed. She kept the tip pointed directly at the tall, black man that stood next to her best friend's father. "Has he been with you the whole time?"

"Yes," Mr. Weasley reassured. "Kingsley hasn't left my side."

"I came to your prefect party two years ago," Kingsley added to further placate her. "Molly made you a big banner congratulating you and Ron."

Hermione lowered her wand with a brief smile of relief; no Death Eater had ever bothered to remember Ron's name. This had to be Kingsley. "What are you doing here?"

"We actually came to speak to your parents," Mr. Weasley requested. "Are they here?"

"No," Hermione said apologetically. "They're at work. They should be back some time after five."

"At work?" Kingsley's head swiveled sharply to his partner. "Have we secured that area?"

"I have," Hermione reassured before Mr. Weasley could respond. "I did it yesterday."

"You did it? By yourself?"

"Yes," Hermione answered a bit hesitantly. She had a feeling they weren't going to be too thrilled when she explained herself. "I had all the books, and besides, I had to recast the wards that were placed here two years ago--"

"Why would you have to do that?" Kingsley demanded.

Mr. Weasley however understood immediately. He let out a groan and took a hold of the doorframe to keep himself from sinking to the porch in disgust at himself, reminding Hermione of how Ron would react whenever he was assigned extra homework. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he apologized. "I should have realized we'd need to; we've had a bit of a family crisis, preparing for the wedding and securing the Burrow so you and Harry can come--"

"It's all right," Hermione said in complete understanding. She had a feeling that once Ron told his family that he wasn't going back to school, that he was leaving with Harry and Hermione to complete a secret mission that could very well be the death of them, there had been many more rows similar to the one at King's Cross blazing between Ron and Mrs. Weasley. And poor Mr. Weasley probably miserably listened to every single fight, torn between his wife and son.

Kingsley turned to Mr. Weasley, mouth opening to ask his question again, but Mr. Weasley quickly responded. "Albus cast them, Kingsley."

Kingsley let out a small groan himself. When you died, all the magic you had cast within your lifetime was automatically reversed; therefore, every protective charm Dumbledore had placed on the Granger household had vanished the second he had fallen off of the Astronomy Tower. "You still should have contacted us immediately when you realized the breach," he scolded Hermione lightly. His quick eyes continued to flick all over the area, still searching for any signs of possible danger. "Home security is not something to take lightly."

"Believe me, my parents' safety is not something I take lightly," Hermione answered with a slight twinge of outrage in her voice. "But that wasn't something you put in a letter and if I left to find you, my parents would be completely unprotected, now wouldn't they? They're not nearly as strong as the old ones, but they should hold them off long enough for me to get my parents out." Normally, she wouldn't have dared to take such a tone with Shacklebolt, who probably could even give Voldemort a run for his money, but she was too exhausted to care about manners. Researching, practicing, and casting scores of complicated protective spells had even tired out an expert witch like Hermione Granger.

And to her surprise, Kingsley just grinned briefly at her. "I always knew I liked her," he commented to Mr. Weasley before stepping off of the front porch. "I'll double-check them, just to be sure. Arthur, you'll--" He trailed off suggestively.

A silent warning bell went off at the back of Hermione's mind as Mr. Weasley nodded soberly. Kingsley started off to complete his new task and Mr. Weasley nodded towards the living room behind her. "Can we?"

"Oh, I'm sorry--please, come in!" Hermione said hurriedly. She wasn't being a very good hostess although she knew that this was anything but a social call. "Can I get you anything?"

"No thank you," Mr. Weasley replied as he sat down on the armchair nearest to the foyer, keeping his wand out on the armrest and eyes all possible entry points. "We need to speak to you about something."

"Okay," Hermione said warily, nodding for him to go on, bracing herself for the worst. "Is everything okay? Is Ron--?"

"Ron's fine. Harry's fine. We're all fine," Mr. Weasley reassured. He leaned forward and cleared his throat restlessly. "I told you a few years ago that we didn't think the Death Eaters would target your parents as long as you were with Harry and Ron at Hogwarts and they knew where you were. But now, from what I understand, you three aren't going back to school, are you?"

"That's right," she answered very carefully. She had to be absolutely certain that she didn't say anything about their plan. She had a feeling that the Weasleys, among others, were dying to know what Harry was up to. Everyone would be trying to find out in their own clever ways, so all three of them would have to be on pins and needles at all times to make sure that didn't happen.

But she should have known that Mr. Weasley, a father who was only firm and authoritarian whenever it was absolutely necessary, a man who fully understood the necessity of a child to make their own decisions and choices, wouldn't push the matter. He had more important things to worry about. He clasped his hands anxiously in front of him. "Well, if the three of you are going to disappear, the Death Eaters are going to do everything in their power to find you. They will go through every possible channel they can find."

Hermione's stomach started to quiver. "So now you think they will target my parents?"

"I'm afraid so," Mr. Weasley apologized sincerely.

"But I have the wards and the other spells," Hermione argued desperately, refusing to believe that all of the work she had just completed had been for nothing. "They should hold the Death Eaters off, won't they?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "Not those kinds of wards. They're just not strong enough. It has nothing to do with your level of talent or expertise," he added hastily as he caught the troubled hurt that had crept into her eyes. "The only completely impenetrable wards are the ones rooted in ancient magic, like the ones at Hogwarts or what Harry has at the Dursleys. You just admitted yourself that the new spells aren't as strong. These spells, no matter how gifted of a witch you are, will not hold off twenty furious Death Eaters who are determined to get in. If they want to get in, they will find a way. Not to mention the simple fact that they'll be vulnerable as soon as your parents take one step off of this property. Those spells only protect the home itself from attack, not your parents themselves."

"So what can I do so they'll be protected at all times?" Hermione asked even though she had a sickening feeling that she had already guessed the answer.

Mr. Weasley gave Hermione three more seconds of hope for a better solution before very gently saying what needed to be said. "You know what the best way to protect them would be, don't you?"

Hermione had to look away and press her lips very tightly before answering the question. "Emigration."

"That's right. We think it's best for Muggle-borns and their family to leave the country, at least for a little while. You-Know-Who isn't going to be leaving the country any time soon, not when he's so close to gaining control of the Ministry, and if he does leave, it'll be for a specific purpose, not to track Muggle-borns," Mr. Weasley informed her, reciting passages from an earlier edition of the Prophet that had made that same recommendation. The author of the piece had been murdered two days after its publication.

"But it'll be different for my parents," Hermione disagreed knowingly. "Voldemort would leave the country to find them, if there was a chance that they could lead him to Harry." Mr. Weasley didn't look the slightest bit surprised by that argument, making her suspect that he already had figured that out himself. "So they can't just leave," Hermione carried on, her heart getting sicker and sicker as she came to realize what difficult spell she had to undertake next, "they have to have their memories modified as well--about me, everything about me." She twisted back to Mr. Weasley and saw the sympathetic horror in his kindly eyes, confirming her worst thoughts. "They can't know I exist."

"No, they can't," Mr. Weasley confirmed quietly.

Hermione's hand went to her aching heart, vaguely realizing that Dolohov's curse was at work again. She stayed quiet for several minutes, rocking slightly back and forth on the sofa cushion, her body rigid with tension. Mr. Weasley remained quite still. Ginny often acted in a similar manner when she was on the brink of telling him something, so he knew to just patiently wait for Hermione to continue. "I told them," she finally confessed.

Mr. Weasley instantly shifted his body so he could face her directly. He knew precisely what she was referring to; he had scolded her last summer for keeping her parents in the dark about the war. "How did they take it?"

"Badly," Hermione answered hollowly. "Well, Dad took it all right. He seems to understand it at least a little, but Mum--" She shook her head despondently and found it useless to continue. Besides, it still hurt too much to think about. As she had promised to herself, as soon as they had arrived home from King's Cross, she had set down that trunk, released Crookshanks from his cage, and determinedly sat her parents down and informed them that she had something important to tell them. She had prefaced her speech with a sincere apology for not telling them this sooner, but she had felt it was necessary at the time. Then, she had proceeded to tell them everything had had happened to her over the past six years that was Voldemort-related: the Sorcerer's Stone, the basilisk, Sirius Black, the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, why she had really left so early the past couple of summers and why she rarely came home for holidays, her escapade at the Ministry and what had really caused those chest pains that had concerned them so much, Dumbledore's death, everything.

It had taken her nearly two hours to complete the epic tale and her parents had been mute the entire time. When she had finished, they kept silent, shell-shocked and numb. Her mother finally had broken the spell, hoarsely informing her daughter that she would not be returning to school while the magical world was in such a state. Hermione had been prepared for that and further decimated her parents' hearts by informing them that she was legally of age in the magical world; ergo, she could legally make her own decisions and she was deciding to drop out of school to help Harry with a new mission that could save them all. Of course, her parents had asked just what that mission was and once again, Hermione had to tell them that she couldn't divulge that bit of information.

That had been the final straw. Hermione's mother had gotten to her feet, given her a long, long look that crushed Hermione's spirit, and left the room. Her father wearily had cleaned his glasses and asked her how much time she had before she had to leave. Hermione had just shaken her head, unsure of the answer herself, and fought to collect herself. Nothing had gone according to plan. Her mother was supposed to initially overreact and her father was supposed to stay calm and ask to rationally hear Hermione's side of the argument. Hermione would tell them everything and it would take a while, but eventually, they'd understand. Her dad would understand at first and calm his wife down as he always did, but they would both come to an understanding about what their daughter had to do. Her mother wasn't supposed to look at her with such bitterness and her dad wasn't supposed to look so tired and old and scared. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

That had been two weeks ago and little had changed. Her mum had barely spoken five words to her and her dad went around as though lost in a nightmare, terrified by the prospect of his little girl willingly throwing herself in mortal danger. Hermione had taken to holing herself up into her room, losing herself in all of the work that needed to be completed before she met up with Ron and Harry so she didn't have to think about the mess her family was in. It was a tense, silent time at the Granger house, so tense that the Horcrux hunt would probably be a welcome diversion for her. But no matter how oppressive the household was, Hermione couldn't leave. Not yet. Not when she hadn't made things right.

Her distress must have read clearly all over her face, for Mr. Weasley quickly leaned forward in his seat to comfort her. "Shall I talk to them?" he offered. "I've had to deal with upset Muggles before--I may be able to help."

Hermione smiled warmly at him. Ron may not think so, but he really was more like his father than he would ever know. "I think they just need some time to absorb all of it, that's all. But thank you."

"Of course," Mr. Weasley said. He gave Hermione another moment to stew in her discontent before getting back to business. "Kingsley has a friend in the Obliviator squad who he trusts," Mr. Weasley went on kindly. "He could be here in the morning to take care of it."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "I'm not having someone I never met before perform magic on my parents."

Mr. Weasley considered arguing the matter with her, but from the way her eyes shone, he knew that it would just waste precious time. "Who would you like then?" he offered kindly.

Hermione already knew the answer. She got to her feet with the same vigor that she attacked every single bit of homework she could lay her hands on. "I'll do it."

"Hermione, have you ever performed any sort of memory charm before," Mr. Weasley asked to be certain that she knew what she was getting herself into.

Her mind flashed to Draco Malfoy's vacant stare as she Memory Charmed him one April night a little over a year ago. Even though it was ages ago, the unbidden memory of Ron's hands fumbling on her skin rippled through her and she tilted her head so her curls could shield the fiery blush that popped up. Perhaps she should have Memory Charmed herself that night; even though that snog had been for practical purposes only, it had deepened her longing for Ron to an almost unbearable degree. "No," she lied hastily. "But I have some books--and if you could manage to get me some more, I'll be able to do it." She held her head high. "If I understand the theory, I can do the spell, I promise you."

Mr. Weasley considered her proposal before nodding and giving her a very fatherly smile. "I hope you know that you are a remarkable young woman."

She couldn't even begin to thank him for that compliment; Hermione barely managed a watery smile and a nod. Mr. Weasley returned the movement. "How long will you need?" he asked kindly.

Hermione made a quick estimation. "A week," she decided. That would be plenty of time for her to research and practice those charms and also gave her parents plenty of time to pack up their belongings.

"Fine," Mr. Weasley agreed. "You'll have to make the travel arrangements yourself--it'd be best if they went the Muggle way so they're not even aware that we exist. But we will have someone follow them to be certain they make it safely."

There was a soft rap on the door and Hermione rose to admit Shacklebolt back into the house after of course asking him another security question to ensure that no one had cursed him. He gave an approving nod. "You did an excellent job, Miss Granger." Hermione distractedly smiled her appreciation and Kingsley turned back to Mr. Weasley who was now standing in the foyer with them. "You told her?"

"Yes," Mr. Weasley confirmed. "She's going to take care of the memory wipe herself and we'll be back in a week to help with transportation."

Kingsley's brow furrowed. "She is--?" He broke off as he thought about all of the flawless spells he had just checked and nodded his assent. "Well, if anyone can do it, she can."

Mr. Weasley returned his attention to Hermione. "All right. I'll bring you those books as soon as possible and update you on the plan--I'm going to have to confer with Moody."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said earnestly. "And you too, Mr. Shacklebolt. For everything."

Kingsley laughed warmly. "Just call me Kingsley, Miss Granger, and I'll do anything I can for you."

"As long as you call me Hermione." She shook hands with both of the men, but Mr. Weasley lingered a second longer, his eyes anxiously taking in the pristine house, imaging her distraught parents.

"Are you sure I can't speak to them for you?" he offered one last time.

"No," Hermione refused yet again. "No. I'll do it." She ushered the two men out and watched as they strode down the street to Apparate. She closed the door and reinforced the numerous locks with a few extra defensive spells for good measure. Hermione then leaned her forehead against the heavy wood paneling with a sigh. It looked as though she and her parents were due for yet another talk.

**

"We have to leave?"

"Helen," William Granger warned under his breath as he placed a hand on her knee to halt her outburst. Mrs. Granger stubbornly complied, but did not look happy about it in the least. Hermione gripped the edge of the cushion, her legs dancing with apprehension. She had an awful feeling that this particular conversation was going to be much louder than their previous one. Mr. Granger, however, was going to try to avoid that if all possible. He purposely kept his voice very calm. "Now, Hermione, just why are we going to have to leave?"

"I told you," Hermione said with stretched patience. "Mr. Weasley thinks that Voldemort will come after you when Harry, Ron, and I don't go back to school. If you're out of the country, you'll be safe."

"Are we?" Helen Granger asked. "I thought you said this Lord Voldemort was the most powerful Dark wizard in the world wouldn't he be able to find us?"

"He won't look for you," Hermione reassured. "They're going to think that I'm with you, and the only reason they'd want me is to find Harry. If they think we've left the country, they'll leave us alone and focus on Harry."

"Then why don't we do that?" Mrs. Granger asked hopefully. "I have a friend in America--"

"We are not staying with Ross Bruhn," her husband interrupted sharply, his eyes flashing like Ron's did whenever Viktor Krum's name came up.

Hermione's mother had to twist her face to inexplicably keep in a laugh. "William--"

"No, it's not just that--although I really don't like him," he admitted. "If we hide, we shouldn't go to people we know. They could track us." He appealed to his daughter. "Right?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed with a fervent nod. She was so glad that her father at least understood the gravity of their situation. "You need to go on your own. An Order member will accompany you to whatever location you choose and then--" She trailed off, uncertain how to proceed. She honestly had no idea what would happen to her parents after their Order guards left. They would be alone, hopefully carefree and oblivious to the war raging right under their noses.

"And then what?" Mrs. Granger asked sharply, spotting the hesitation flitting across Hermione's face. "We just go on without you?"

Hermione bit her lip, hard. She had conveniently omitted a very particular aspect to the plan she, Mr. Weasley, and Kingsley had devised that afternoon. She knew it would kill them to hear it. She even considered not telling them and casting the memory wipes when their backs were turned so they would never know that their only daughter was using powerful magic against them. But they had passed the point of lying. Her parents deserved only the truth. "You do," Hermione replied honestly. "Because you won't remember me."

There was a long, heavy silence. Her father could only gape straight ahead at his little girl, astounded beyond the bounds of coherent speech. Her mum glanced over at her husband, fumbling for words; finding none, she turned back to her daughter, her pride and joy, and forced her brain to remember how to speak. "And why won't we remember you?"

Knowing the Granger need for physical, tangible evidence, Hermione extracted the book Mr. Weasley had dropped off an hour before her parents came home from work. She opened it with shaking hands to the proper page and offered it to them. Mrs. Granger took the book and began to read with the same intensity her daughter had inherited. Mr. Granger was still too stunned to move. "There's a charm, a powerful one, but I think I can do it," Hermione explained very calmly. She couldn't believe how steady her voice was. "It will alter your memory so you won't remember anything that has to do with Voldemort, or magic, or--well, or me."

"No." The two women whipped around to watch William Granger get to his feet, white with grief. "No. Not this far, Hermione. That's enough."

"Dad--"

"No. That's enough!" Mr. Granger's glasses trembled atop the bridge of his nose. "I'll agree to let you make your own decisions, because you are an adult and you have earned the right to make your own choices, but that is all. You will not alter our memories--and it won't work anyway--no amount of magic is going to make me forget you!"

"Yes, it will," Hermione disagreed in a very small voice. Despite her tears, she still kept her head high. "I'm sorry, but you have no idea what I'm capable of."

"William," Mrs. Granger interjected before he could respond. He turned to his wife who held out the book to them. "I think she can."

Mr. Granger finally took the book and began to read. Mrs. Granger buried her face in her hands for a moment to lose herself in the incomparable pain of losing a child. Hermione hated herself for doing this, but she pressed on to ensure that they understood that they wouldn't be able to stop her just by ordering her to her room without dinner. "I'm sorry if you don't like it, but this will happen. It's the only way to protect you and protect me--if the Death Eaters think I've fled the country with you, they won't search for me. If you go, you really will be helping me." She looked back and forth between her devastated parents. "You know I wouldn't do this unless I had to, but it is the only way. And I don't care if I have to wait until you're asleep or knock you unconscious myself, but I will be putting that charm on you. I can promise you that."

The threat squashed the last of Mr. Granger's fleeting defiance. He took off his glasses to needlessly clean them, something Harry sometimes did whenever he didn't want to face what was happening. Mrs. Granger however wasn't ready to give up so quickly. "We could take away your wand," she tried feebly, but as she expected, Hermione's wand was out and aimed at both of them before they could even blink.

"No, you couldn't," Hermione answered steadily, her wand steady despite the tears sliding out of the corners of her eyes.

Her mother's face crumpled so she couldn't say anything more. Mr. Granger moved to sit next to his wife and wrap an arm around her. "So we can't say anything to change your mind?" he said hollowly.

Hermione shook her head.

"Are you sure?" His voice creaked fearfully, much like Ron's did. The comparison made Hermione really want to kill Voldemort which solidified her resolve to follow through with the plan she had concocted with Harry and Ron.

"I'm sure." He bowed his head and for an awful moment, Hermione thought he was about to cry. Before that could happen, Hermione hastily fumbled to say something to rectify this situation. "Come on, Dad," she begged desperately. "What would you have done if you were in my situation? I have to do something."

"Not this," he answered sharply.

"Yes, you would!" Hermione protested. Grangers may not look like much, but they really were quite brave; Hermione was certain that both her parents would have ended up in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. Despite all of their intelligence, it was really their secret fire that set them apart from others. "If it was the only way, yes, you would! What if it was to save Mum? Or me? Would you just sit by and do nothing?" Mr. Granger let out a long exhale and raised his eyes to the ceiling, keeping his jaw resolutely shut. "What would you do if you in my situation?"

"We would do anything," Hermione's mum said in a dull voice of resigned defeat. Hermione turned to her in surprise, but Helen Granger was only looking at her husband. "At her age, when we were that young, we would have done anything. You would do anything. You know that."

Wearily, William Granger pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded bleakly. He did know that.

"No one could have stopped us at her age," Helen continued. "She's an adult now. She makes her own decisions." She finally looked at her daughter and finally gave her a nod of approval. "We have to go."

It took him several long minutes to say the words, and you could see his heart breaking as he did, but William Granger was finally able to nod in agreement and say: "Then we'll go."

It was the approval that Hermione had so desperately been seeking, but it only made her want to curl up into a ball and cry for years to come. She wildly racked her brains for something, anything, she could possibly say to rectify the situation. "We still have a week together," she tried. "You'll have to pack and everything, of course, but we still have some time. Maybe we could go to London one evening or something--"

It sounded so shallow, even to Hermione, but Mrs. Granger actually nodded and wiped her eyes. "You do have that wedding to go to, right? Ron's brother's?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, slightly confused about where this was going.

"And you still fancy that Ron boy, right?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione admitted. Even the threat of burning every copy of Hogwarts: a History couldn't make her stop loving Ron.

"Wait--what?" Mr. Granger demanded.

They ignored him. "Then you need to look fantastic," Mrs. Granger concluded matter-of-factly. She looked at her daughter with a hopeful, watery smile. "We could go get you a new dress. If you want."

Even though it was the first genuine, heartfelt gesture her mother had made during the past few weeks, Hermione never felt more horrible as she did in this moment. "I would really like that," she agreed

"Wonderful." Mrs. Granger rose and started out of the room, pausing to smooth her daughter's wild hair before slowly leaving the room so she could cry in peace. Both she and her dad flinched when they heard the master bedroom door slam.

Now it was her father's turn to get to his feet. "I should go to her."

"Dad..."

"Hermione," he waved his hand to get her to stop trying so hard to make them feel better. It wouldn't work. "You've dropped a lot of information on us over the past few weeks and all of it is things that we did not want to hear. You're my daughter and obviously this is not the life I wished for you." He massaged the bridge of his nose in hopes that the gentle pressure would alleviate the severe stress headache that had flared up. "It's going to take us a while to get used this. I don't know if we ever will." His hand dropped from his face and for a moment, he looked like her father instead of a tired stranger. "But you have more important things to do than worry about two old Muggles. So just do what you have to do. We understand. We do. It may not seem like it, but we do. So just don't worry about us and do what you have to do."

His voice was so plaintively self-sacrificing that he sounded exactly like Harry. And since she was still a bit hacked off at Harry for being noble and playing the hero by breaking up with Ginny, Hermione could challenge this. Her father was trying to make a quick exit like his wife, but Hermione stood up in a flash, her eyes blazing. "You are not two old Muggles!" Hermione contradicted harshly. "You're my parents. I'm going to worry!"

Her indignation somehow allowed her dad to crack a very tiny smile. "But you shouldn't have to, sweetheart. It's our job to worry about you." He swallowed hard and returned into the room. "You have to understand that we don't like being told we're useless."

"But you're not!"

"But we are!" he insisted sharply, in the sharpest voice she had ever heard from him. Hermione instantly quieted and looked at her shoes. "We know nothing about magic. If you get into trouble, we can't help you. You're on your own now. Do you realize that?"

Hermione nodded grimly.

"Are you prepared for that?" her father pressed.

This time, her nod was much more confident. Some part of her felt as though her entire life had been building towards this war, that she was destined to play a role in it, that she was born to be Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's best friend so together, the three of them could put an end to all of the suffering and grief that the entire world was struggling to endure.

It was the first time William Granger realized just how grown up his little girl really was. His hand roved affectionately through her wild hair, smoothing it out of her eyes for the last time. She didn't need him to do that for her anymore. The indescribable and incomparable pain of a father watching his daughter leave him stabbed directly into his heart, but he mastered it admirably. "I'll go talk to your mother," Doctor Granger offered, which his subtle way of telling her that he may not like it, but he understood and accepted her decision to leave her old world behind and take off on the most dangerous adventure of her life.

As if she was still five years old and frightened by the book-eating monster that lived under her bed, Hermione threw her arms around her father and held on tight. He wholeheartedly reciprocated. After a few moments, Hermione slipped free, picked up Mr. Weasley's book, and retreated to her room so her father could spend some time with his wife. She closed the door behind her and immediately sank down to the floor, her back against the closed door. Sensing her distress, Crookshanks bounded off of her bed so he could curl up in her lap and meow his sympathy. Hermione buried her face into the ginger fur, missing Ron so much it hurt to breathe, and allowed herself to give in to the tears.

But only for three minutes. She gave Crookshanks a quick kiss before getting to her feet and taking her book over to her desk, setting it down next to the thick, black-covered, ancient book she had stolen from Dumbledore. She'd study from the Charms text for an hour, practice the spells for another hour, and then go back to copiously reading Dumbledore's book. One last tear pushed itself out of her eye, but she wiped it away impatiently, gritting her teeth and sitting determinedly down at the desk. No matter what, she couldn't and wouldn't stop; there was just too much work to do.

**

A week had never passed by so quickly. With all of the research, packing, and worrying Hermione had to do, she didn't think she would ever be able to spend some much needed quality time with her parents. But her parents were just as determined as she was to find that time, so somehow, they were able to go out to dinner together, go into London for some shopping and catch a play, and even spend the day in Oxford, their favorite city to explore. Somehow, with the fiercest stubbornness, they were able to put aside all of the hell they had been through and actually enjoy each other's company. At times, it was almost as though nothing ill had ever transpired between them.

But those times were over. Everything was ready. All of the Granger possessions were packed in boxes, ready for the movers who would arrive tomorrow to ship the belongings to Australia; Mr. and Mrs. Granger were only taking the essentials with them and living in a hotel as they hunted for a new house. Hopefully, they would find one by the time the rest of their things arrived. The only things that remained were everything that had to do with Hermione: every photograph, every vase she had made in art class, every single thing that could reveal that the Grangers once had a daughter were stored in Hermione's room with the door locked and charmed so only Hermione could open the door. If the Death Eaters came to search their house, it would appear deserted, as though the entire family had fled. They could always of course break the spells and perhaps piece together that Hermione wasn't with them, but Hermione was optimistic that the Death Eaters wouldn't care about her that much to go to such extremes. Death Eaters typically didn't care terribly much about Mudbloods.

So, Hermione had done everything she possibly could do to protect her parents. Everything but one final thing. Hermione twirled her wand apprehensively in her fingers, waiting for her parents to come into the living room, now full of neatly labeled boxes. Her own trunk, Crookshanks' cage, and rucksack sat in the foyer. It was very strange to see her childhood home in this vacant state. It was becoming more and more horribly real that Hermione was about to leave this house and very possibly never return.

Mrs. Granger came in first, her purse tightly clenched in both hands, face drawn. She had noticeably lost several pounds over the past week. She gave her daughter a terse smile. "Dad's just locking the back door."

"Okay," Hermione replied in a strangled voice.

Mrs. Granger anxiously wheeled around as she heard footsteps and only relaxed when she saw her husband returning, as pale as she was. Mr. Granger looked as though he had aged fifty years in one week. Both of them stared at their daughter, terror alive across every feature of their faces. They had no words. And there was only one thing left for Hermione to say.

She pocketed her wand so it was just her and her parents in the room. It took all of her courage to admit this without crying, but Hermione managed to do her best. "I don't think I've been a very good daughter."

Mrs. Granger's face broke and she reached forward with the same compassion that her daughter bestowed upon even the meanest of house-elves. "Hermione--"

"No. It's true. And I'm sorry. I really am," Hermione apologized profusely. "I'm not sorry I lied, because I needed to stay at school, but I am sorry that I've put you through all of this. You don't deserve this--"

Mrs. Granger dropped her purse so she could hug her daughter one last time. Surprised, Hermione returned it. "You did what you needed to do," Mrs. Granger reminded her. Hermione couldn't remember the last time her mother had spoken with such blatant pride in her voice. "No matter what stood in your way, you did it. Just like we taught you to." She stepped back, unrestrained tears sliding down her face. "I may not like it, but it was the right thing to do."

Hermione threw her arms around her mother. That was just what she needed to hear. "Thank you." She stepped away so she could turn to her father. "Dad--"

"No. Don't." Mr. Granger didn't want her to say another word. Hermione had done more than enough for him. He came forward for his embrace. "Just be safe," Mr. Granger pleaded quietly. "That's all I ask. Be safe."

"I'll try." Hermione tightened her grip and fought with everything she had to keep from crying. She didn't want them to see her cry anymore. They had seen far too many tears these past few weeks. "I'll come and get you as soon as this is over. I promise."

"You better, mate" Mr. Granger joked weakly as he affected a very bad Australian accent.

It was a horrible joke, but as he had hoped, Hermione and Mrs. Granger laughed shakily, needing to do something besides cry and dwell in the realization that they were going to be separated quite possibly for the rest of their lives. They soon lapsed into yet another silence, but mercifully, this one wasn't laden with tension and regret. This particular silence actually had some hope laced in it: hope that one day, in the near future, the three of them could be laughing together in this cozy living room again.

"Well," Mrs. Granger finally said with her trademark matter-of-factness. She picked up her purse expectantly. "I think it's time."

"Right," Mr. Granger walked over to join his wife and take her hand. Together, they faced their daughter and her wand. "We're ready."

Hermione nodded. Before she could lift her arm, she blinked back all of her tears. "I hope you know--"

"We do," Mr. Granger assured. Mrs. Granger nodded in complete agreement. He jerked his chin towards her wand. "Go on."

With a deep breath, Hermione raised her wand and slowly began the incantation that would effectively leave her parentless.


Thanks for reading! And if anyone would like information and sneak peeks at upcoming chapters, check out my Yahoo group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/annmargaretfics/ We have a great group and would love to have more!