After the Flaw

Notes: Although the first names of Mr. and Mrs. Granger are of the author's creation, all other characters belong to JK Rowling. The lyrics for While My Guitar Gently Weeps were written by George Harrison. Sweet Caroline was written by Neil Diamond. Do You Believe In Magic was written by John Sebastian.

----------

"Good morning, avids," the scratchy voice of Brian Matthew intoned over the small kitchen radio. "First up today on 'Sounds of the Sixties' is Dee Clark with 'Raindrops,' a Billboard top hit from 1961. After that, we'll have 'It Only Hurts When I Cry,' a song from the 1965 movie 'Beach Blanket Bingo' and performed by Donna Loren, and follow that up with the Righteous Brothers 'Unchained Melody,' a 1955 Todd Duncan tune which was covered by the group in 1965 as a B-side for their single 'Stuck on You,' and, obviously, became the more popular of the two."

"Ah, I love that song," Charlotte Granger said as she poured a cup of tea from the stove. She was an attractive blonde woman, though slightly overweight and with a large overbite. "Always takes me back... Brian doesn't play it nearly as much as I'd like."

"Well, that's Brian, isn't it?" her husband Daniel said as she adjusted her night gown and sat down next to him at the kitchen table. "He loves playing the stuff that even we've never heard of...doesn't play the hits as often as he could. What's a seven-letter word for 'Psychopharmacologist Presciption?"

Charlotte leaned over Daniel's shoulder and squinted at the crossword puzzle in front of him. "What letters do you have?"

Daniel Granger took a sip of his own tea before pointing to the line with the tip of his pencil. "One blank... an 'I'... two more blanks... another 'I'... then two more blanks."

"Hmm... not very helpful, is it?"

"It's 'Lithium,'" said a voice from the hall. Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked up to see their only daughter walk into the kitchen, already fully dressed in jeans and a lilac t-shirt.

"There's your answer," Mrs. Granger said matter-of-factly as Dan leaned forward and studied the line in question.

"Are you sure?" he said. "It sounds familiar, but..."

"It's used to treat bipolar disorder," Hermione explained quietly, her back to them as she dug through the icebox. "It increases serotonin synthesis and decreases the release of norepinephrine."

As she turned around to face them, she saw Mr. Granger staring at her with a dumbstruck look on his face, while Charlotte just smiled proudly.

"It's also a Nirvana song," she continued quietly. "The one Cousin Phillip bribed that awful band into playing at..." her voice choked off in mid-sentence, her face turning red as she turned around toward the sink to peel her orange.

Daniel took it as just Hermione trying to remember the event and piped in. "Uncle Gavin's wedding!" he snorted, shaking his head.

"See?" said Charlotte as she stood up and kissed him on the bald spot of his otherwise curly-brown scalp. "There's not a question in the world our Hermione can't answer." She turned back to her daughter. "Good morning, dear."

"Morning," Hermione said, still leaning over the sink, trying her hardest to look away from her mother as she poured a third cup of tea.

"Have you started packing yet?" Mr. Granger asked, returning to his puzzle after scribbling the answer into the squares.

"I'm done, actually," Hermione said, throwing the orange peels into the rubbish bin. "Didn't take long, most of my things were still packed from Hogwarts, I only had to do my laundry."

"And your dress?" Charlotte asked. "The one for the wedding?"

"Packed as well," Hermione replied.

"On top of things, as usual," Mrs. Granger said, winking. "Well, it should be a lovely time. I can't wait to see it."

Hermione's fingers went slack and she dropped her orange into the sink. "What?"

"The wedding, silly," Mrs. Granger said, motioning over to the calendar where an invitation identical to the one Bill and Fleur had sent Hermione, Harry, and Luna hung, hand-drawn fairies fluttering around its silver and gold paper. "We got the invitation six months ago. I thought they would have told you."

"No..." Hermione breathed, her eyes focused on the invitation. "No, they didn't..."

Why didn't I see that there before? Hermione thought. I must have been so busy making plans for everything else... How could I have missed that?

"Don't worry about it, Hermie," Mr. Granger said. "We'll only be there the day, and I promise we'll spend most of our time with Molly and Arthur. We'll leave you, Ron, and Harry to your own during the reception. You're of age, we won't smother you."

"How is Harry, anyway, dear?" asked Charlotte. "Are he and Ginny still dating?"

Oh, God, Hermione thought, barely putting her orange in a small bowl before covering her mouth with her hand. Please stop talking. Please don't make this harder...

"Hermione?" Charlotte asked, looking down at her daughter's face. "Are you alright?"

"And be sure to write us when you get to school," Daniel said, still looking at the newspaper, oblivious to his wife's concern. "Your grandmother is planning on taking a trip to Italy next June, I want to make sure that--"

"Daniel," Charlotte said shortly, and he stopped and looked up. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked Hermione, whose eyes had begun to well up with tears.

"Mum..." Hermione sobbed, and immediately lunged at her mother, wrapping her in a hug that nearly knocked her over.

"Hermione?" Mr. Granger said, standing up and walking to the pair. "What is it?"

"Can we go into the den?" Hermione asked quietly. "Make ourselves comfortable? I need to talk to you about something..."

---------

Two tall men flanked Hermione Granger as she walked along in the August sunset, studying the line of houses across the street from a string of railroad tracks. She looked up at the taller of the two men and asked,

"You're sure this is the right place?"

"It is," Kingsley Shacklebolt replied, glancing down at the parchment. "Rupert Street."

"Not much to look at, is it?" Ron Weasley said, wrinkling his nose.

"It's perfect," Kingsley said over Hermione's head. "Nymphadora's contacts did a good job setting this up."

"How do you figure?" Ron asked as Hermione slipped a slightly trembling hand into his.

"If you're trying to hide someone," Kingsley explained, looking up occasionally to read the numbers on the houses, "you don't put them into a large city, a large commercial district. You'd think it would be easier to get lost, but that also means more eyes peering you at you, remembering your face, even on a subconscious level. You don't put them in the middle of nowhere. That leads to little villages where everyone knows your name. You really don't want many people knowing your name, knowing your face. The last place that people think of to look for protected individuals are places like this, little, indiscriminate suburbs. Mostly industrial, hard-working folks that keep to themselves, rotating in and out so often that they don't get to know anyone."

"Which leads us to Tottenham," Hermione said quietly, the Melbourne suburb that shared the name of their escape route from the wedding a year ago. She had told Ron and Harry that it was just a busy place, the first place she could think of. But even through the terror of that first night she was still thinking of her parents.

"This looks like the place," said Kingsley, pointing to a small, two-story flat. "Are you ready for this, Hermione?"

Hermione took a deep breath and felt Ron's reassuring hand squeeze hers. "Yes, I think I am," she said. "Thank you for coming with us, Mr. Shacklebolt."

Kingsley shrugged, a small smile crossing his face. "Memory revival's a difficult thing," he said. "I'm happy to pick up where Dora left off."

"But still..." Hermione said as the trio walked up the front driveway. "I mean... to pull yourself away from the Ministry and all..."

"I'm just an interim," Kingsley said, laughing. "I may know my Auror stuff, but I'm still trying to pick up on all the details of running the Ministry. Percy knows how to handle things; I'm comfortable leaving him in charge for a few hours."

Ron snickered to himself, still trying to break the habit of brotherly dislike that had plagued the Weasleys for the better part of three years.

"Besides," Shacklebolt continued, pointedly ignoring Ron's outburst, "you helped defeat Voldemort, helped save the wizarding world. I figure the least the country can do in gratitude is allow me to accompany the two of you."

Hermione blushed, and she looked up quickly at Ron to see that his ears had turned red at the compliment. "Well," she said, squeezing Ron's hand as she looked down at her feet, "I appreciate the gesture."

Kingsley smiled, nodded to the two of them, and took two steps back before Hermione realized that they had reached the front door. She looked back at the interim Minister of Magic, who held his hand out as if to say go ahead. She looked up at Ron, who smiled reassuringly and shrugged.

Hermione breathed in, lifted her finger, and held her breath as she pushed the doorbell. She heard a pair of footsteps on the other side of the door, and began bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as nerves began to take over.

The door opened.

"Can I help you?" the woman who answered the door asked.

"Hi," Ron said, "are you Mrs. Monica--?"

But his prepared speech was cut short as he saw a bush of brown hair fly past him, straight into the woman standing across the doorway.

"Mummy, you're alive!" Hermione cried in relief as she hugged Charlotte Granger. Charlotte looked down at her, and gave a very bewildered look to Ron.

"Hermione!" Ron whispered, grabbing a hold of Hermione's shoulders and pulling her away.

Charlotte looked up sharply, her eyes narrowing. "Excuse me...?" she asked.

Hermione quickly glanced at Ron, her face blazing red. "Sorry," she said quietly. "It's not like she'll remember it anyway..."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Mrs. Granger asked, gazing distrustfully at the pair. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Hermione said, continuing to look down at her feet. "Is your husband home? Wendell?"

"No. He's not." Charlotte looked back at Kingsley, her face clearly showing that her patience was growing thin. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Can we come in, ma'am?" Ron asked, putting on his best professional voice. "It's terribly important."

"Why?" Charlotte asked, her lip curling in a small sneer of anger. "What's so terribly important that this girl decided to nearly tackle me and call me 'Mummy'?"

"Ma'am, if we could just come in," Ron repeated. "We can explain everything inside."

"No, I don't think you will," snapped Mrs. Granger. "I don't know you. I don't see any badges, so it must not be anything dangerous. All I see are a couple of teenagers who must be up to something, and a very intimidating man behind them. None of which I'm willing to let into my house."

Hermione and Ron exchanged nervous glances. Hermione, in particular, looked extremely strained as she had rarely heard her mother talk with this kind of tone.

"So if you're trying to sell something," Charlotte continued, her voice growing louder, "I'm not interested. If you're trying to pull some prank, it's no good; I already remember your faces to give to the police. If you're robbing the place, I have a security system that I can press at any time and have the police here in five minutes. So, please, stop trying to hug me and shove off..."

"Stupefy!"

"No!" Hermione yelled as a blast passed between her and Ron and connected with Charlotte Granger's chest. As Charlotte crumpled to the ground, unconscious, Hermione spun around to confront Kingsley.

"What are you doing?" she screamed as he stepped over the body and into the house.

"Grab her feet, Ronald," Kingsley said calmly, slipping his arms under Mrs. Granger's armpits.

"That's my mother you just attacked, you...!" Hermione yelled, trying to push Kingsley, but finding no give in his strong body.

"We'd have to stun her for the memory modification anyway," he said as he and Ron carried her into the den and laid her on the couch. "This is much easier than attempting to break in."

"But..."

"Close the door."

Hermione instinctively did as she was told, then quickly whirled back on him. "Mr. Shacklebolt..."

"Hermione!" Kingsley said, standing up straight and stepping toward her. "You must realize the situation. To modify someone's memory, to tell them that they're someone that they're not, can be difficult. They might not be willing to let it happen. But to re-modify someone's memory, to revive someone's past, is exceedingly difficult. They don't remember who they were. They don't remember why it happened, what or whom they're being protected from. They will not want to have their memory modified, because they don't believe that it's a fake life to begin with. They see us as a threat and they will fight back. That's why we do it quickly, do it quietly, do it safely."

Hermione looked down at her unconscious mother, and Kingsley could see her chewing her lip nervously.

"Hermione," he said quietly. "You knew what you were getting into when you did this. It's almost time for it to be over."

Hermione nodded, her gaze never wavering from the body on the couch. Ron was looking at the unconscious woman as well, but for a different reason. His brow was furrowed in thought.

When Hermione hugged her, he thought. When I pulled her away...I saw something in those eyes.

Was it recognition?

---------

I look at you all; see the love there that's sleeping,

While my guitar gently weeps

"Oh, God, what am I doing?" Hermione's voice trembled as she glanced down at the book on the coffee table and up at her unconscious parents, trying her best to block the BBC from her hearing. "What am I doing?"

I look at the floor; and I see it needs sweeping

Still my guitar gently weeps

She reached over for the notepad and flipped through the pages. Line after line of writing, words she had so meticulously written days, even weeks ago, passed in front of her eyes in a confused blur.

Melbourne.

Wilkins.

Childless.

"I can't do this," she said, standing up and pacing the living room for the third time since she cast Stunning spells on Daniel and Charlotte Granger a half hour ago. "I can't do this, I can't do this..."

I don't know why nobody told you how to unfold your love

I don't know how someone controlled you

They bought and sold you

Hermione's vine wand rolled between her fingers as her free hand ran through her hair frenetically. "What was I thinking?" she muttered. "I don't know how to do this, this is too much, this..."

The doorbell rang, freezing her in mid-step. She quickly realized who it must be, and ran at full tilt toward the front door.

I look at the world and I notice it's turning

While my guitar gently weeps

"Oh, thank God!" Hermione cried as she saw the bright pink hair on the other side of the entrance.

Nymphadora Tonks quickly raised her hand. "What name did you say I should give my first daughter?"

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Answer."

"Oh, right, sorry," she responded, forcing her mind to come back from the den. "Ummm... it was Athena, wasn't it?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Tonks said, smiling and winking. "Question?"

With every mistake we must surely be learning

Still my guitar gently weeps

"Ginny's favorite face..."

Tonks grinned broadly as her nose widened into a pig snout.

"Now can I let you in?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Absolutely," Tonks replied, closing the door behind her.

I don't know how you were diverted

"You were perverted, too," Tonks sang. "I love George Harrison. Always the Beatle no one gave two shakes about but, God, he was brilliant. He's my dad's favorite, too, although Mum can't stand Muggle rock."

As Hermione stepped back into the den, she got a look at her parents again and gasped as though she were seeing them for the first time.

"Which, now that I think about it, sounds an awful lot like Fraggle Rock," Tonks continued as she followed Hermione in. "Ah, well. Are they modified? I have the stuff to make their new passports and..."

"Not yet..." Hermione whispered.

Tonks looked at her warily. "They're not?"

"No," Hermione continued, her wand continuing to roll in her fingers. "I thought I could do it, but..."

"What happened?" Tonks said, quickly walking over to Hermione's father. "Did something go wrong? Did you accidentally give them a wipe?"

"No, no, it's not that..."

"Lumos," Tonks said as she pulled out her wand, pulling open Mr. Granger's eyelid and waving the wand in front of his pupil. "His reactions seem fine. What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Hermione said quickly, kneeling down beside her. "I just... am I doing the right thing?"

I don't know how you were inverted

No one alerted you

Tonks let Daniel's eyelid drop and then sat down on the carpet. She looked at Hermione with understanding and also with, Hermione thought angrily, a little bit of pity.

"Hermie..." Tonks said quietly.

"That's my Dad's name for me," Hermione said, staring hard at her father as tears once again rose close to the surface.

"Sorry," Tonks responded. "I won't use it again."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not that... it's just... I can't stand to think that he won't remember that name... remember my name... remember his name..."

"He will," Tonks said patiently. "You've read up on this. You had to have, or else you wouldn't have made this decision to begin with. You know how temporary memory modification works. The memories they have of being Daniel and Charlotte Granger won't disappear like they would with permanent Memory Charms. They'll just be buried deep, so deep that not even a Legilimens like You-Know-Who could get to them."

"But we'll be able to bring them back again..." Hermione said quietly, trying hard to reassure herself.

"Yes, you will," Tonks said. "Have you made the Imprint yet?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've... it's been difficult..."

Tonks sighed, but nodded her head. "I understand."

"But I can..." Hermione quickly continued. "I mean, I know how to do it, it's just..."

"Would you like me to do it for you?" Tonks said, glancing down at her wristwatch. "We don't have a lot of time, the plane leaves in four hours."

"Could you?" Hermione said hopefully, hating herself for being so weak, but knowing that, as easy as it was to plan this operation, it was infinitely more difficult to go through with it.

Tonks nodded again and, raising her wand, drew two glowing circles around the brows of Mr. and Mrs. Granger. They hung there for a few seconds, brightening with each passing moment, before slowly rising to the tops of their heads, shrinking into a glowing ball. The glow faded and two shining jewels, each the size of a golf ball, fell onto the sofa.

Tonks picked them up and held them out. Hermione reluctantly took them and felt their warmth in the palm of her hand.

"Those Imprints, imprints of your parents' minds, mean that we can bring them back," Tonks explained. "We use them to sort out the true memories, the true mind, from the false. There's an entire area at the Ministry, in the Witness Protection Agency, where Imprint jewels are kept under lock and key. And these will be kept in safer hands than even those."

"Where are they going?" Hermione asked.

"Gringotts," said Tonks. "There's a vault under joint ownership of every member of the Order, where we keep important documents, artifacts, things like that. It'll be safe there, I promise."

"Only members of the Order?" Hermione asked. "But then how can I...?"

"Your name's on the list, don't worry," said Tonks. "So are Harry's and Ron's. Ginny, too, although she doesn't become an owner until she comes of age. If worse comes to worse, you'll be able to get in, even if the rest of us are gone." She took another glance at her watch and hissed through her teeth. "If I'm going to do this, I should start now," Tonks said. "You have your notes?"

Hermione nodded and reached over to the coffee table, pulling the yellow steno pad down to the floor with them. "What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Pack," Tonks said absently, as she flipped through the pages. "You know how to use packing charms, right? It'll make things go a lot faster. Make it look... try not to make it too organized. In case anyone comes looking, we want to make sure they think it was an escape."

"Yeah, I can do that," Hermione said. As she listened to her orders, Hermione recognized a part of Tonks that came out so rarely around Grimmauld Place or the Burrow: Nymphadora Tonks, Auror.

"Find any papers that might be in the house, too. Passports, birth certificates, anything like that. I'm going to make sure they head straight to the airport after they come to, but just in case, I don't want them to see anything that will mess with the charm before it's fully engrained. That includes anything around the house or the car that might have their name on it, or any pictures of you."

Hermione's chest tightened at the thought, but she steeled herself and nodded in assent. "How about record albums, or books?"

"Not important," Tonks said, pulling out a quill from her bag and scribbling in the margin. "This modification's going to be difficult enough dealing with their past history and the erasure of you. I'm not even going to worry about things like favorite movies, ice cream flavors, whatever. Just find anything Granger, anything Hermione, or anything related to the magic world and bring them here."

"Anything else?"

Tonks paused, closing her eyes in thought. "No, that should be it," she said. "Now get going and I'll get started."

Hermione nodded and, after taking one last look back at her parents, jogged into the kitchen and pulled the calendar, along with the Weasley invitation from the wall as the small plastic clock radio clicked to 8:45.

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping

While my guitar gently weeps

---------

"Should we have a look around the place?" Ron asked. "See what kind of flat your Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins like?"

"Stay here," Kingsley ordered, noticing an appointment book sitting next to the telephone.

"Why?" Ron asked, sitting down in a fluffy chair across from the couch. "We haven't got anything else to do until Mr. Granger comes home."

"Because it's impolite," Hermione said quietly, looking down at her hands. "We're intruding enough as is, I wouldn't feel right..."

"There's nothing in here about Wendell being out of town," Kingsley said, flipping through the book. "Or anything about any doctor's appointments, anything like that. Most likely he's just at the grocers, should be back at any time."

"Good," Hermione said, pulling the two Imprint jewels from her pocket and staring at them. "I want to get this over with."

"It will be easy enough once he gets here," Kingsley said, flipping idly through the pages of the book. "You'll have your parents back before you..." He stopped in mid-flip, his brow furrowing as he read one of the pages.

"What is it?" Ron said, standing up. "Something wrong?"

Kingsley closed the book, keeping his finger in the page, and read the front. 1998 12-MONTH APPOINTMENT BOOK, it stated in gold lettering. He opened the book again and, flipping back to the page in question (September 15th), re-read it, then looked up at the two teenagers.

"This can't be right..." he said.

"What is it?" Hermione said, standing next to Ron.

"September 15, 2:30 PM," Kingsley read. "Dr. Andrews. Check-up for Hermione..."

"What?"

Before he could say another word, Shacklebolt was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

"Monica!" the voice of Daniel Granger said jovially from the entryway as the door closed behind him. "I'm back!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, and Hermione noticed that Kingsley was once again pulling his wand from his robe.

"I bought some mint chip ice cream for dessert," Daniel said as he turned the corner into the den, one hand cradling a bag of groceries, "and some bananas for... Who are you?"

"Stupefy!" Shacklebolt shouted, pointing his wand at Mr. Granger. Instinct got the better of Daniel, though, and he was able to dive out of the way, the jinx missing him by inches.

"Dad!" Hermione screamed.

"Who are you?" Daniel screamed as he hid behind the chair where Ron had been sitting minutes before. "What did you do to my wife? Where's Hermione? Help! Help!!"

"Mr. Wilkins, calm down!" Ron yelled.

"Dad, please calm down!"

"Where's Hermione?" Daniel continued to holler. "I swear to God, if you hurt her..."

"What's he talking about?" asked Ron to Hermione and Kingsley. "What does he mean, 'Where's Hermione?'"

"Stand up!" Kingsley yelled, his voice booming authority. "Stand up, Wendell Wilkins, right now!"

"Take whatever you want, just don't hurt them!" Daniel cried from behind the chair.

"We won't hurt them if you would just stand up!"

Daniel Granger stood up slowly, staring at the trio with a mixture of fear and hatred.

"Now," Kingsley said, his voice lowering. "If you would just calm down for..."

"Who are you?" Mr. Granger asked, glancing over at a small end table next to him, perhaps wondering if he'd be able to pick up the decorative vase in time to throw it at his attackers.

"We're here to help you," Hermione said.

"Stupefy!" Kingsley said, and this time, the jinx found its mark. Mr. Granger's legs buckled under him, his head hitting the table as he fell to the floor, the vase shattering on the ground a second later.

"Oh, God, Dad," Hermione moaned, running toward him. She pulled out her wand and was preparing to deal with small cut on his forehead when an ear-splitting wail erupted from somewhere in the house.

Ron and Kingsley both looked around anxiously. "Security alarm?" Ron asked.

"No, I disabled it when we came in," Kingsley said.

The wail took a breath and then continued its onslaught.

"Is that...?" Kingsley muttered, walking slowly toward the stairs.

"Oh, no..." gasped Hermione.

"Ummm..." Ron stammered as the baby's screams continued to echo through the house. "This... this complicates things, doesn't it?"

He looked nervously over at Hermione, whose wand fell from her hand as she fainted on top of her father.

---------

"That was Dick Dale & The Deltones with 'Miserlou,' as performed on a 'A Swingin' Affair.' A great piece taken from an otherwise horrible television show in 1963. Before that was 'Time Is On My Side' by Irma Thomas. Coming up on 'Sounds of the Sixties'..."

"I think I have everything," Hermione said as she walked back into the den. In her arms was cradled a rather large box with various papers and picture frames poking out haphazardly.

"You're sure?" Tonks said as she stood up from the floor and rolled Daniel Granger onto his side. "Even the locked up papers?"

"Yes," Hermione said anxiously. "I...It took me a few minutes to get into their safe, but then I remembered to use an Alohamora." She mentally chastised herself for that, something as simple as using a spell would have normally come to her right away without her having to waste time trying to figure out the combination.

"Good thinking," Tonks said absently as she pulled Daniel's wallet from his back pocket. "Grab your mother's purse, would you? We need to swap driver's licenses, library cards, things like that."

"How are you coming on the...?" Hermione asked as she walked to the front door to find Charlotte's bag. She cut herself off, still not able to really talk about what they were doing to her parents yet.

"Almost done," Tonks said. "Just need to get a seal in place and get everyone comfy cozy. Then we should be ready to go."

"Here you are," said Hermione, setting the purse down on the coffee table next to the notepad, on which she noticed Tonks' scribbled handwriting jammed into every available space between her notes.

"Okay, then," Tonks said, rubbing her hands together. "This should probably take another five minutes, ten tops. Just long enough for you to go and get changed."

"I'm already dressed, Dora," Hermione said, bemused. "I've been ready to leave since six a.m."

Tonks looked over at Hermione, sliding her eyes up and down at her t-shirt and jeans, and shook her head. "I'd suggest something a little more comfortable."

"What do you mean?"

"How do I put this...?" Tonks said, tapping the tip of her wand on her chin. "How do you think Harry would feel if he had to try to cram himself into those jeans?"

"These wouldn't fit him. He's too... oh..." Hermione said with dawning comprehension.

"Unless you're planning on stripping in front of him before you drink that Polyjuice, you'd probably be better with something more along the lines of a baggy sweatshirt and pants. A pair of pajama bottoms, something like that. And sandals, not trainers; his feet are a lot bigger than yours."

"Good idea," Hermione said, turning toward the stairs.

"Oh, and, um..." Tonks said, a little more delicately. "What are you wearing underneath?"

"Umm, a bra? Knickers?"

"Might want to go commando. I guarantee Fleur will be. Bloody veela," she muttered under her breath.

"Yeah, I suppose those would probably hurt a bit, too," Hermione said, blushing slightly. "Pinching."

"There is that," Tonks said with a grin. "We'll also be sparing Harry the trauma of seeing what he looks like in a pair of your lacy unmentionables."

Hermione, who was only wearing a simple set of white cottons, nonetheless had a mental image of Harry Potter dancing around Gryffindor Tower in her underwear and couldn't help breaking into a smile, the first she'd had since she woke up this morning.

"Once you and the other five start changing, it won't be anything that Harry doesn't see in the shower, he'll be fine," Tonks said reassuringly.

But what about me? Hermione thought, her face turning eight shades of red. It's not anything I've seen before. Any of it...

"Besides," Tonks said, leaning in, "just tell Ron that you're not wearing anything underneath, it'll drive him nuts."

Hermione felt like her face was going to burst into flame. She had hung out with Tonks on many occasions in the past few years, but this was the first time that anything regarding boys had come up, especially anything regarding what Nymphadora must have recognized as that tension between her and Ron Weasley.

She stood rooted to the floor, debating whether or not to ask Tonks about that line of thought or just bolting upstairs to avoid the same conversation when a familiar guitar riff started up on the kitchen radio.

Where to began, the man sang, I can't begin to knowin

But then I know it's growin' strong

"This song," said Hermione, turning to the kitchen. "My dad... it's one of our favorites."

Tonks looked up at Hermione. "Who is it?" she asked. Her father had given her some exposure to Muggle music; the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin, mostly, but this was the first time she had heard this melody.

"Neil Diamond," Hermione said quietly. "He's an American. 'Baby In Blue Jeans,' 'Cracklin' Rosie.' Good singer."

Was in the spring and spring became the summer

"It's catchy," Tonks said haltingly. "I'll have to borrow it from you sometime."

Who'd have believed you'd come along

"He used to sing it to me when I was little," Hermione said, and Tonks noticed that tears were once again flowing down her cheeks. "When he was in a good mood...or when he was putting me to bed. Sometimes...just in the middle of the kitchen, we'd dance with each other. He'd always put my name in there, because he knew I'd get frustrated with him. 'Those aren't the right words, Daddy!' I'd always say... and he'd always laugh and kiss my forehead..."

Hands

Hermione sniffed deeply and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Touchin' hands

"I'm going to go change," she whispered and ran upstairs, running away from the music.

Reaching out

Tonks turned back to the Grangers, and thought it over quickly.

It shouldn't take too much, Tonks decided, waving her wand around Daniel Granger's head. Just a little feeling of déjà vu whenever he hears the song. Like he's missing someone, even if he doesn't remember who or why...

Touchin' me

Touchin you...

---------

"Hermione Caroline Wilkins," Kingsley Shacklebolt read from the pink photo album he and Ron had found in the upstairs nursery. "Born May 5th, 1998."

"Sweet Caroline," Hermione sang under her breath, her voice shaky. "Bum, bum, bum..." She was sitting in the chair across from the couch where Ron had lifted her after she had passed out. A glass of water was clutched in her hands, and she could see the ripples along the top; her hands were shaking worse than her voice was.

"May fifth," Ron said, pacing around the living room, cradling the baby (My sister, Hermione corrected herself with a splash of dread) and patting her on the back. "She's been around for four months..."

"And it would put her date of conception at late July or early August," Kingsley said, continuing to flip through the pages of the book, studying the still, non-magical photographs with a detective's eye.

"Not long after they left England," Hermione moaned, the glass shaking violently. "Oh, God..."

"Hold her..." Ron said quickly, holding out baby Hermione to Kingsley. Shacklebolt hesitated, looking the baby up and down, then put the book down and took her from Ron's hands. Ron then quickly ran to Hermione and kneeled down beside her.

"Calm down," he said soothingly, taking the glass from her hand, which he set down on the table next to the Imprint Crystals and put his hands in hers. "It's going to be okay."

"You have to admit," said Kingsley, "it will make a convenient cover story. If any of your extended family wonders why their holiday ended up taking over a year..."

"God, this wasn't supposed to happen," cried Hermione. "How could this happen? I mean..."

"I think I could guess as to how it happened," she heard Kingsley say, but her eyes never left her hands.

"We know how it happens, thanks, Kingsley," said Ron sharply, carefully watching Hermione.

"That's not how I meant it, Ronald," he continued. "I'm just guessing that Wendell and Monica Wilkins, childless throughout their entire marriage, finally fulfilled their dream of moving to Australia. They arrive and are happy they're here. So they feel like it's time for their next life goal. They start asking themselves, 'Why don't we have children yet?' So they start up fairly quickly, and name her 'Hermione' because they think it's a nice name for a girl."

"But... but they didn't want any more," Hermione said, her voice shaking. "They tried for years after I was born, but eventually decided that they were too old to be starting over again. They're in their fifties..."

"Age doesn't matter, believe me," Ron said, running his hand through her hair. "My mum would probably want to pop another Weasley out tomorrow if Dad hadn't gotten fixed after Ginny was born. You can see it in her eyes whenever Teddy's around."

"What am I going to do?" Hermione asked him, her eyes and voice almost pleading.

"We'll figure something out," he said, leaning in so their foreheads touched. "We always do."

"Um, Ronald..." Kingsley said. Ron and Hermione looked up to see him holding the baby at arm's length, looking at her slightly cross-eyed. "Do you think you could take her back? She doesn't seem to like me."

"That's because you're holding her wrong," Ron said as baby Hermione started crying. "Here, give..." He stood up and held his arms out.

"Sorry," said Kingsley, gratefully handing her over and wiping his hands absently on his robe. "I've never been good with kids."

"Just takes practice, that's all," said Ron, and baby Hermione stopped crying almost immediately as he cradled her to his chest.

"You're good with her," Hermione said, smiling despite herself as a wave of affection flowed through her toward the man she had only kissed for the first time a few months ago.

"Yeah, well..." he shrugged. "It's not like I haven't been paying attention on those nights when Andromeda brought little Teddy over to the Burrow."

Hermione nodded. She and Harry had both been splitting time between Hogwarts, Grimmauld Place and the Burrow since the battle had ended at the beginning of the summer. Unfortunately, there had been very few nights when her visits coincided with babysitting the Lupins' orphaned son, so she hadn't ever seen this side of him.

"Besides," he said, bouncing the girl on his arm, "when you're a Weasley there's always a second cousin or someone's great-great niece to take care of at family gatherings. I don't think there's a one of us who doesn't know how to change a diaper."

"But, still," Hermione said quietly, "it's good to know you have it in you."

Ron looked down at her and smiled. That could be us someday, Hermione thought. He could be carrying one of our own like that. She suddenly the urge to just jump up and kiss him, kiss him and do whatever else, damn whatever Kingsley thought, hit her so strongly that she had to tear her gaze away from Ron's eyes.

Kingsley seemed to sense the sudden change in the room too, because he cleared his throat a little too loudly and said, "So what we have to decide now is what to do about this little hitch in our plan. There are plenty of routes we can take. The easiest and most obvious would involve a second memory modification. Make Mr. and Mrs. Granger believe that they planned to have this child all along, had it, and raised it here in Australia while the three of you were off saving the world. Everyone knows what you were up to, Hermione, so we won't have to worry about making people believe that you were here with them anymore."

"That does sound like the easiest option," said Ron, but Hermione shook her head.

"It can't be that way," she said. "My parents have been living a lie, a lie that I created for the past year, just so that they could be protected...so that I could be protected. I couldn't live with myself knowing that they would be living another lie for the rest of their lives just because I didn't write a line in my notebook about them not wanting children."

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Kingsley said. "It would be simple enough..."

"There have been too many secrets, too many lies," said Hermione. "My family deserves better than that."

"Okay," Kingsley said, sighing, "That still gives us a few more choices. Some of which we can eliminate right away."

"We could tell them she's ours?" Ron said, and withered at the look Hermione gave him. "Sorry, just brainstorming."

"And that would be one we can eliminate," Kingsley said quickly. "There's a possibility that ten, twenty, thirty years down the line, Hermione Caroline would find out that Ronald isn't her biological father and that her genetic code doesn't match Hermione's as closely as it would if she were her real mother."

"Her what code?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"Muggle science, nothing important. Also, it's a story that would fall apart as soon as Charlotte went to the gynecologist and he tells her that her body is showing signs of a recent birth, especially if she had a c-section. She would deny it, and then the authorities would get involved. A gynecological exam would also eliminate putting the baby up for adoption."

"There are already enough orphans from this war," Hermione said flatly and felt the tears beginning to well up again.

"Which leaves two choices," Kingsley said. "The first of which is doing what we had planned all along. Bring Mr. and Mrs. Granger back. Explain what has happened in the past year. Tell them about the child. See what happens from there."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She had no idea how her parents would react to knowing that the past year of their lives had been stolen from them and that they had been given a new obligation in the meantime. Probably not well, at all. Thoughts of her father, getting on in years, dropping dead of a heart attack or a stroke from the shock of everything flew to the front of her thoughts. Her mother screaming, crying, knowing that they can't afford another daughter, that their lives were ruined. Images of disownment; being thrown out the door, her baby sister in tow, being told to never come back, that she was dead to them.

"And what's the other option?" she whispered, knowing the answer already.

Kingsley sighed sadly. "The last option is permanent memory modification. Let them live their lives as Wendell, Monica, and Hermione Wilkins. Use the Imprint crystals to Obliviate any remnant of Charlotte and Daniel Granger from their minds, any remnant of England."

"And my family?" Hermione asked. "My grandparents? My aunts and uncles?"

"They only know that you three went on holiday," explained Kingsley. "After your parents left, we sent a couple letters to cover their tracks. After the Ministry fell, we sent a few more, telling your grandparents that your holiday was being extended. Didn't explain why, didn't say where you had gone. It would only take a few more letters, a few more documents, to say that the three of you don't exist anymore. Died in an accident, a house fire, something along those lines. We can transfigure some convincing bodies, if the need arises; it's something we Aurors have to occasionally do in our line of work. And as for you, Hermione, you could just disappear. Sever most of your connections to the Muggle world. Maybe even modify Wendell and Monica's memory a little more. Make you, I don't know, a niece who likes to come visit her aunt and uncle on holiday occasionally..."

"Kingsley," Ron said. He was looking at Hermione, whose head was in her hands. She had begun to shake uncontrollably. "I think the baby might need to lie down. Mind going to get a blanket from the crib upstairs?"

Kingsley stopped in mid-thought, looking between the two of them with dawning understanding. "Of course," he said. "I apologize."

"It's fine," Ron said. "You're an Auror. It's your job."

"Ronald..."

"Just... just take your time, yeah?"

Kingsley nodded and slowly walked up the stairs. Ron readjusted baby Hermione in his arm and walked back over to Hermione. With his free hand, he touched the top of her head, running his fingers soothingly through her hair and she responded by reaching out, blindly and desperately clutching his leg. She pressed her face into his thigh, and began to sob.

"Oh God," Hermione cried, her voice muffled. "I screwed up, Ron. I screwed things up so badly..."

"No, you didn't," Ron said quietly. "You made the right choice."

"It's not looking like it from here."

"It is from here," Ron said. "They're alive. We're alive. After the Death Eaters saw you at the Lovegoods, they would have come after your parents just like they went after Neville's gran. Bringing them here, keeping their names out of it, probably saved their lives. Probably saved ours, too, because I know we wouldn't have been able to go on if we knew they had been captured. The three of us probably would have staged some sort of half-assed rescue operation and gotten ourselves killed in the process. We're Gryffindors, we're noble and stupid that way."

Hermione felt like she needed to protest that, but knew that she couldn't. If she had learned her mother and father were under Death Eater control, she would have gone to any length...

"Do you... um..." Ron said bracingly, "do you want to say hello to your sister?"

Hermione pulled her face away from Ron's leg, a wet patch developing on his jeans from her tears, and looked up. After a few seconds' thought, she nodded slightly, realizing that she had barely looked at the child in all the time that the three of them had been talking, like if she didn't acknowledge her presence, then she really wasn't there.

Ron bent down to one knee and carefully removed baby Hermione from his shoulder. Hermione took the baby and set her on her knee, propping her up from behind with one hand. Hermione Jean and Hermione Caroline studied each other's faces in what Ron could only describe as awe.

Then young Hermione began to laugh, and old Hermione smiled.

"Hi, there," she said, tears coming forward again. "Hi Hermione, I'm your sister..."

"Guess we'll have to straighten the name thing out somehow," Ron said. "Might get confusing."

"She's beautiful," Hermione whispered wetly as the baby began to grab for her bushy brown hair. "She's got... she's got my Dad's eyes, his nose. Oh, look," she said, running her hand gently over the scalp, where some hair was beginning to come in, "she's blond like my Mum. They said I was the same way when I was a baby, but I darkened, maybe she will, too..."

"She's got your smile," Ron said, still kneeling down beside them.

"No, she's got my Mum's smile..."

"You both have the same smile," said Ron, putting his hand on her leg. "I noticed it the first time I met your parents at Diagon Alley."

"But we were twelve," she said, smiling. "You were studying me even back then?"

"Something wrong with that?" Ron said defensively.

Hermione's smile faded as she looked back at her sister. "What do you think I should do?" she asked Ron.

"I can't answer that," he said. "It's your life. It's your family."

She turned to him and, before she knew it, she was kissing him. Her free hand clutched at the back of his neck as she pulled him tight to her. Their tongues met briefly, and he could feel the wetness of her tears on his face. His hands ran through her thick brown hair and, for a moment, they were lost in each other.

After what felt like an eternity, Hermione pulled away, but leaned her forehead against his, her palm still against the back of his freckled neck. "You are my life," she whispered. "And I want you to be a part of my family."

"Is that a proposal?" asked Ron, smirking.

Hermione shook her head. "Not here, not now," she said. "Proposals can wait. Besides, I'm old-fashioned when it comes to this kind of thing. Why do you think I didn't ask you to the Yule Ball myself?"

"I could give a few reasons," said Ron. "First among them being I was a major prat fourth year. And fifth. And sixth. First through third, now that I think about it..."

"I want you to ask me someday," she said, looking into his eyes. "Just know that I'll say yes."

"I'll mark a spot on my calendar," he said, and this time it was he who kissed her.

"Ahem," Kingsley said from the bottom of the stairs, a blanket draped over his arm. Ron and Hermione pulled away from each other, and Ron suddenly knew how Harry and Ginny must have felt about him on Harry's birthday. He had a strong desire to Stun the interim Minister of Magic for a few more minutes.

Hermione must have felt the same way too because she wore the same look that Ginny had worn that day. She stood up and carried the baby to the blanket, which Kingsley had spread on the carpeted floor.

"So what do you think I should do?" she asked Ron as she lay Hermione down and sat down next to her with her legs crossed.

"Well, just so we're clear that you're only going to put my opinion in with the rest of your thoughts, and not leaving me to make the final decision."

"Since when have I ever trusted you to make the final decision on anything, Ronald Weasley?" she said, but was smiling when she said it.

"Good point," he said, smiling back.

"So," she repeated. "What do you think I should do?"

---------

Do you believe in magic in a young girl's heart

How the music can free her whenever it starts

Merlin's pants, Brian, Nymphadora Tonks thought as she made the final adjustments on Charlotte and Daniel. Why does everything you play today have to be so damn appropriate?

As she pulled Daniel's arm across Charlotte, she heard a set of footsteps on the stairs. The Lovin' Spoonful cut off in mid-word as Hermione shut off the radio in the kitchen.

"Ready to go, girl?" Tonks called.

"I think so," Hermione replied, walking into the den. "How do I look?"

Tonks sized up Hermione's baggy sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, her bushy hair now pulled back in a braid.

"Yeah, that'll definitely work," she said.

"They look comfortable," Hermione said as she looked down at her parents. Her father was now lying on the couch, Charlotte nestled against his chest, his arm around her shoulders. "Almost like they fell asleep that way."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it?" said Tonks. "Not a bad job, if I do say so myself. They wake up in an hour, discover that they somehow fell asleep watching..." she turned on the television with her wand, "the morning news. Their schedule to get to the airport will be tight, but luckily they packed their bags last night and they're sitting right in the entryway. By the time we get out of Gringotts and to the Burrow, Mr. and Mrs. Wendell Wilkins will be boarding their flight bound, with a short layover in Hong Kong, for their new lives outside of Melbourne, Australia."

"Sounds... good," Hermione said, leaning over to kiss her mom on the cheek. "Stay safe," she whispered. "I'll be back for you soon."

"Have the box? And the Imprints?" Hermione nodded, took one last look back at her sleeping parents then followed Nymphadora Tonks out the door, locking it behind her.

"We'll make the trip to the bank as quick as we can," Tonks explained as they walked down the front path. "We're meeting up with Ron and Arthur at the Burrow, but we won't see Remy or any of the others till we actually reach Surrey. Hestia and Dedalus are picking up the Dursleys in a few hours, so we can't move until we know that they're out of the house. But, God, it'll be nice to see Harry again. Can't wait to show him the ring..."

She turned to look at Hermione, who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Tonks thought she might have been crying, but she saw that although Hermione was looking back at her house sadly, her eyes were dry.

"They'll be okay, Hermione," Tonks said quietly. "You made a good decision..."

"How do we do it, Tonks?" Hermione asked, her eyes never leaving the house. "How do we witches and wizards live our lives, knowing that someone could change everything we've ever known with just..."

Tonks sighed and put her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "My dad's lived on both sides of the world," she said. "Just like you will, just like Harry will. And he says that magic doesn't solve the world's problems. It just replaces them with different ones. Magic can cure disease, regrow severed limbs, create something out of nothing. But it also puts a dangerous weapon in the hands of everyone over the age of eleven. A weapon that can destroy cities, create unspeakable horrors, kill another person with just a thought. It gives us the safety that comes with being able to fight injustice. It gives us the freedom to travel anywhere in the world by spinning on our heel. But it can also take a person's mind, take a person's body, take a person's soul. There's a reason the Statute of Secrecy exists, and it's because humans can't believe that magic doesn't fix everything. So, no, we can't know that we're safe in our own minds. That we won't wake up in another country, or wake up believing that we're a Death Eater, or that we're in love with someone we didn't know existed when we went to bed. We can't know that we won't wake up thinking that we're a chicken. All we can do is trust. Trust ourselves. Trust our friends. Trust our family. Believe that they have the best intentions, and that they would do anything to keep us from harm. And to know in our hearts that we'll do the same for them."

---------

Hermione Wilkins squealed in glee as the glowing silver otter swam around above her head. She reached and swatted at the silver terrier as it sniffed and licked her face.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, their Patronuses keeping watch on the child, stood hand in hand behind Kingsley Shacklebolt as he performed the final incantations on Wendell and Monica Wilkins. The two Imprint crystals he had held in his hand had long since disappeared.

"That should be all," he said, standing up and putting his wand back into his robe.

"So what now?" Hermione asked. "When do they wake up?"

"The Stunning Spell wears off in about an hour," Kingsley said. "But it can be safely removed at any time. I just figured you'd want to do the honors."

Hermione nodded, took one last reassuring glance up at Ron's face, and pulled her vine-and-dragon-heartstring wand from the back pocket of her jeans. She stepped forward as Kingsley took a counter-step back, now next to Ron, who patted him on the shoulder.

Hermione took a deep breath in, and when she exhaled it shook with her tight nerves.

Trust yourself, she thought. Trust your family. Know that they would do anything to keep you from harm, and that you would do the same for them.

She touched the tip of her wand to Charlotte Granger's forehead.

"Rennervate."

Charlotte's eyes opened as Hermione touched Daniel Granger's forehead.

"Rennervate."

"Hermione?" Mrs. Granger said murkily.

"Did the spell work?" Mr. Granger asked, his voice sounding just as groggy. "Didn't you just... oh, wait, I guess it did." He looked around the living room, realizing quickly that they weren't in Oxford anymore.

"Yes, it worked," Hermione said. She looked up at Ron, who nodded reassuringly and put his hand on her shoulder. "It's been a year," she said carefully to her parents.

Mrs. Granger's jaw dropped. "A year? I was only expecting a few months, at most. And where are we?"

"A little over a year, actually," Hermione continued, her confidence falling by the second. "And we have a lot of things to talk about, a lot of things to catch up on. But first... ummm..."

She heard a soft cry as Kingsley picked up Hermione Caroline and carried her over to the family.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet."

As Daniel and Charlotte Granger got their first look at their second daughter, Hermione saw what she had expected in their faces: shock, confusion, a complete and total loss for words.

What would come after that, she didn't know, and she steeled herself for whatever would come.

But she saw familiarity in their faces... like they had seen this child before, if only in a dream.

And Charlotte Granger smiled.