Tree Houses and Daisies

Hermione woke up and groaned. She felt like she'd been hit with that spell Dolohov liked to use. All those Portkeys... Hermione picked up her watch and squinted at the face. There were still a couple of hours before she needed to get to the Ministry.

Hermione stretched, feeling several joints pop. She pushed the bedclothes back and shuffled to the bathroom. Today was the day. She was going to find her parents and restore their memories. She was feeling terribly anxious. Her mother had enough issues with the Wizarding world, and would not appreciate having her memory modified like it had been. Sure, she would understand, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Hermione spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. She wondered what her parents would say when she told them she was the one who had modified their memories. 'Snap out of it, Granger,' she told her reflection. 'One thing at a time.'

She dressed and went down to the ground floor, wondering where she could get some breakfast. Gavin had said something when he brought her over last night, but she'd been so tired, she hadn't heard a thing.

'Hallo, there.' Hermione's head jerked up. A lady behind a counter beckoned to her. 'Hungry, are yeh?'

'A bit,' Hermione admitted.

'Have a seat, then, and I'll get yeh sorted. What would yeh like?'

'Um, just some tea and toast, if it's not too much trouble?' Hermione watched as the lady bustled behind the counter, toasting bread and putting brewing a small pot of tea.

'Yeh're that Granger girl, aren't yeh? The one with Harry Potter?'

'Yes,' Hermione said. It was too much trouble to try to deny it.

'Here for a holiday, then, are yeh?'

'Something like that.'

'Strange time of year for it, if yeh don't mind me sayin' so.' Hermione just shrugged. The lady set a plate of toast, the pot of tea, and a mug in front of Hermione. 'If yeh need anythin', just let me know, eh?'

'Thank you.'

Breakfast eaten, Hermione went to the Ministry. It was a bit before ten, but Hermione had nothing else to do. She had tried reading, but she kept fidgeting so much, she ended up reading the same sentence four times. She walked down the bright corridor coming to a stop at Gavin's desk. 'Morning, Gavin,' she said.

Gavin looked up, keeping an eye on the wand that peeped from the pocket of Hermione's trousers. 'Morning, Miss Granger.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the use of 'Miss Granger', but didn't remark on it. 'Gavin, could I ask you something?'

'Sure.'

'Is there a way I can get a message back to England immediately? Let my friends there know I've arrived in one piece?'

'Sure. Well, it won't be immediate, but it'll get there sooner than an owl would. It'll take several hours.'

'That's fine,' Hermione said quickly. 'May I use some parchment and a quill?' Gavin handed her a sheet of parchment and a quill, and directed Hermione to a small writing desk in the corner. She scribbled a quick note to the Weasleys and Harry, telling them she had arrived in Canberra, and was leaving for Adelaide this morning. She addressed to Ron, rolled it into a scroll, and tapped it with her wand. Now, it would open for nobody, except Ron. She stood and handed it to Gavin.

Gavin took the scroll to a small urn on a shelf. 'It'll go to the British Ministry first. I'll add a note asking Mr. Shacklebolt to direct to...?'

'The Weasleys. Specifically Ron Weasley.'

'Friend of yours?'

'You could say that,' Hermione replied with a slight blush. She watched as Gavin attached the note to Shacklebolt and dropped the scroll into the urn. 'How does that work?' she asked.

'Like a Portkey. It's a way for the Ministers to get in touch with each other quickly. But I don't think they would mind for this.'

'Hermione, are you ready to go to Adelaide?' Maisri appeared in the doorway between her office and Gavin's.

'Oh, yes.'

'Follow me, please.' Maisri led Hermione to a bank of fireplaces. 'I'm assuming you've used a Floo before?'

'I have.'

'Just say "Adelaide" when you go in. They're waiting for you there. The Head of the Adelaide office is a bloke named Paul Rogers. They want to meet with you and come up with a plan to get you into your parents' home so you can undo the Memory charm.' Hermione nodded, her eyes intent on the flames in front of her. 'Good luck, Hermione,' Maisri added.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione threw the handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and said firmly, 'Adelaide!'

The familiar whirling sensation gripped her and in a moment, she stumbled onto a hearth in another room. An older man stood in front of her. 'Hermione Granger?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'Paul Rogers, but you can just call me Paul.' He led Hermione to a room with two other wizards sitting at a table. 'Stu Mason and Atticus MacNeill, this is Hermione Granger.' Both men sat up in surprise. They had heard what Hermione Granger had done to her parents, and they weren't expecting a petite eighteen-year old witch.

'Good morning,' Hermione said, sitting in a chair Paul pulled out for her.

'So, Miss Granger, we thought it would be easiest to go to your parents' house on some pretense, and Stun them, and then you can reverse the Memory charm. What happens after that, is up to you.'

'Stun them?' Hermione was stunned.

'It's safer for all of you. You can modify their memory while they're out.' Paul paused, and eyed Hermione appraisingly. 'How are your nonverbal spells?'

Scowling, Hermione took out her wand, and pointed it at her handbag. She Banished it to the other side of the room, then Summoned it back to her - all without saying a word. She tucked her wand back into her pocket, and looked at Paul. 'That answer your question?'

'Yes, I'd say it did.'

'All right, fine. How are you planning on getting inside the house?'

Stu leaned forward. 'We're going to sabotage it,' he said simply.

'S-s-s-sabotage?' Hermione squeaked.

'Just something like making their telephone go on the blink or their lights. Nothing that will harm them,' assured Atticus. 'That way we can go inside the house, and Stun them, out of sight from the rest of the neighborhood.'

Hermione sighed. This was starting to turn into a production. 'How long will that take?'

'A few days, give or take a day,' said Stu, shrugging.

'A few days,' repeated Hermione. 'When are you going to get started?'

'This afternoon,' responded Paul.

'What do I do while you're sabotaging my parents' home?'

'Stick around here. We'll need to be able to get you to your parents as soon as possible. You're part of the story to get in, you know.'

'Lovely,' grumbled Hermione. She hoped she could just be part of the background. She was a lousy actress most of the time.

At least she had something to read.

********

Two days later, Hermione found herself wearing the uniform of the phone company maintenance worker, standing in front of a neat bungalow. There were roses in the front. Hermione smiled a little. Her father loved roses and had grown antique roses in the back garden of the house in Oxford. It seemed some things were impervious to Memory charms.

Atticus rang the doorbell. 'Remember,' he whispered, 'you're a trainee.'

Hermione nodded mutely. She could see the outline of a woman coming to the door. Jane Granger's gait hadn't changed with the Memory charm either. The door opened and her mother stood in the doorway. 'Yes?'

'Good afternoon, missus. Here to repair your phone,' said Atticus.

'Oh, wonderful! It's been out for two days now.' Jane beamed and stood aside to admit Atticus and Hermione. Jane closed the door, and led Hermione and Atticus to the kitchen, where Richard Granger sat with the morning paper.' Atticus caught Hermione's eye, and nodded.

Within seconds, both of her parents slumped across the kitchen table, unconscious.

Hermione took a deep breath. She was trembling so hard, she could feel the fabric of the trousers she wore shaking. Atticus touched her shoulder. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' she said automatically. She gripped her wand and performed the charm to return her parents' memories.

'Do you want me to stay until after they've been revived or shall I go?'

'Go ahead and go. I'll be round in a day or two to make arrangements for us to get back to Canberra.'

'Are you sure?' Atticus looked at the resolute young woman in front of him. She hardly looked older than his own daughter.

'I'm sure. Go on.' Hermione stared hungrily at her parents. She didn't realize how much she had missed them until now.

Atticus nodded. 'If you need anything, Miss Granger, you know where to find us.'

'Thank you, Mr. MacNeill.'

Atticus turned and left the house. Hermione waited until she heard the softclick of the front door closing, before she raised her wand again. 'Ennervate,' she murmured.

Jane sat up, rubbing her forehead. 'Richard, I just had the strangest dream...'

'Mum?' Hermione whispered, frozen to the spot.

'Hermione?' Jane looked up. Her expression changed to one of open confusion as she took in the unfamiliar kitchen. 'Hermione, where are we?'

'It's a long story, Mum.'

*********

Ron escaped to the tree house with his diary. Everyone was so busy tiptoeing around everyone else, it was giving him a headache. The only time he felt free to speak was when Molly gave him cooking lessons. He surprised both of them. He was actually good at it. He felt unusually pleased about it, too. This was something he could do, and do it well. He wrote about it in his diary, thinking Hermione might like to read about it.

Ron stuffed the diary into his back pocket, and climbed up the ladder. He pulled himself through the trapdoor and settled on one of the cushions that had shown up in the last several days. Bored one day and tired of ending up with an aching bum from sitting on bare wood, Ron had purloined a few elderly sofa doilies from the attic and used them to practice Transfiguration. The next day, he ruefully realized he could have just done a Cushioning charm and been done with it, but he liked having the cushions around.

Ron slipped the thin loop from the small button that held the diary closed. He pulled the box with a few quills and a bottle of ink a little closer and opened the diary to where a slip of parchment marked his place. It was the note they'd received from Hermione last week via the Ministry letting them know she had arrived in Australia safely and was headed to Adelaide, where her parents were living.

The quill rested loosely in his hand. Ron was still trying to gather his thoughts. Sleep had been hard to come by the past few nights. Harry's nightmares were getting worse, when he slept at all. Harry had put Silencing and Impenetrable charms on Bill's old bedroom after the first few nights when everyone burst into the room. Ron was probably even more worried about Harry than he'd ever been before. Harry had always been willing to talk about what was eating him, but since the battle, he'd withdrawn so far into himself, Ron wasn't sure what it would take to bring him out.

Ron knew what was bothering Harry, of course. It was the guilt. Every time someone had been injured or died since their fourth year, Harry descended into spasms of guilt. But this was worse than anything Ron had ever seen. Harry wasn't eating much, and sleeping less. He stayed in Bill's room when he wasn't pushing food around his plate at meals, when he bothered to come down for them at all.

Rustling sounds reached Ron's ears. He glanced out the window to see Harry striding down the paddock, Ginny close behind. Ginny was shouting something, but it was too indistinct for Ron to make out what she said. Whatever the last thing she said was, it was enough to make Harry come to a dead stop just beyond the oak tree. Ron eased back a bit, so they wouldn't see him, but he could still see and hear Ginny and Harry. 'What do you want, Ginny?' Harry yelled at her.

'You left me. For nearly a year with nothing.'

'For God's sake, Ginny, it wouldn't have been safe for you. You were underage. And even if you had come with us, you still had the Trace on you.'

'So I was nothing more than a liability for you?'

Ron cringed. That sounded like something he would say.

'No! Of course not! But if anything had happened to you, I would have died!' Harry had moved a few steps closer to Ginny, so they were mere inches from each other.

'That's just lovely,' spat Ginny. 'That really helps after those nights lying awake wondering if you had died, trying to find a Potterwatch broadcast on the wireless. All those times the Carrows let the Slytherins practice the Cruciatus on us for detentions.' Suddenly, Ginny's hand flashed across Harry's face with an almighty crack. Ron tensed, his wand in his hand, ready to throw up the biggest Shield charm he could do between them.

Harry just stood there. He hadn't tried to defend himself. Ron saw a bright red handprint blossom on Harry's check.

'That was for leaving me last summer.' Ginny's hand flew across Harry's face again. 'That's for not standing up for me in the Room of Requirement!' Ron's mouth dropped open. He knew Ginny had a temper, but this wasn't something he had seen before. Ginny's handprints fanned across Harry's thin cheeks. 'That's for making me think you were dead!' Ginny was screaming and crying in earnest now, the third slap landing harder than the first one, and a fourth one following swiftly after.

'What was the last one for?' Harry asked hoarsely.

Ginny just shook her head, and took off running for the River Otter. Harry watched her mutely, and turned in the opposite direction, his face now a collection of angry mottled handprints. Ron sagged against the wall, carefully setting his wand down. His hands were shaking. Ron closed the diary. He didn't think he would be able to write anything without it degenerating into something less than his usual scrawl.

Dinner that night was tense. Harry had slipped into the house through the front door earlier, and gone into Bill's room, closing the door quietly, as if it would shatter. He hadn't come down for dinner. Ginny picked at her dinner, her eyes still swollen. Ron felt another part of his heart rip. As much grief as he gave Ginny for dating anybody, he had been hoping for years to see Ginny with Harry.

George cleared his throat, with a sound like cloth ripping. 'I'm going to reopen the shop at the beginning of August,' he announced.

'Would you like some help?' The words tumbled from Ron's mouth before he could stop them.

George looked surprised. 'Yeah. I'd love some.' He shoved a bit of chicken around his plate with his fork. 'Next Monday, I thought I'd go see what we have to do in the way of merchandise and cleaning up the shop. Haven't been there since the end of March.' George turned to Ron. 'Nine too early for you Monday morning?'

'No, it's fine.' Ron carried his plate to the sink, and began to wash the dishes stacked on the counter. He didn't notice Arthur, Molly, or Ginny leave, nor did he realize George was standing next to him, drying the dishes he'd washed.

'So, I've been thinking,' George began. 'I don't want to run the shop on my own.'

'Okay. I'm sure Lee would like to go in with you.'

'Nah. Lee's too busy with his new show on the wireless.'

Ron wracked his brain, trying to find someone to help out George.

'I was thinking about you,' George said quietly.

Ron dropped the plate he had been washing. It shattered as soon as it hit the floor. Cursing to himself, he pulled out his wand, and murmured, 'Reparo.' He shoved his wand back into his pocket, and bent to pick up the repaired plate. 'Why me?'

George smiled sadly. 'Fred and I wanted to bring you in, eventually. If you weren't dead set on becoming an Auror, that is.'

Ron shook his head. 'No. I've had enough of that. Been doing that since I was eleven. Not nearly as cool as it sounds most of the time.'

'You really came through this past year, Ron,' George said quietly.

'Thanks, George.' Ron swiped his hand over his face. He let the plate in his hands slide into the soapy water. Ron pulled George into a tight hug. 'I'm so sorry,' he whispered. 'I never wanted it to be like this.'

'Me, either, bro,' George choked. 'But Fred would have wanted things to go on. He'd think we were all right prats for wallowing like this.' After another moment, George released Ron with a sigh. 'So, how 'bout we try things out for a year and see how it goes?'

'Sounds good.' Ron smiled. 'Hermione's going to be pleased.'

George reached for a plate. 'Really?'

'She'll be happy I'm doing something, period.'

'So what happened between the Moping Duo this afternoon?'

'Harry and Gin?'

'Who else?'

'Dunno.'

'Liar.'

Ron pulled the plug from the drain, and rinsed the dishcloth he'd been using, draping it over the sink. 'I'm not sure. They yelled at each other. She slapped him a few times, and that was it.'

'Ginny slapped him?' George rubbed the side of his head. 'That's not like her. She usually goes for the subtle punishment.'

'Yeah.'

'George grunted in response. 'You want to go out for a bit?'

'Hog's Head,' Ron answered promptly.

'Read my mind,' George sighed. 'The others will be a bit...'

'Crowded.'

'Exactly.' George draped his dishtowel over a rod near the stove to dry and went to the back door.

*********

Ron could hear Hermione screaming. Bellatrix's voice punctuated the screams. He tried to pound the dungeon walls in frustration, but his fists just sank into the fog that surrounded him. Ron spun around looking for Harry, but he was alone. The screams grew louder and more pained.

After a while, they petered out to weak whimpers, then...

Nothing.

'Ron! Wake up!' Harry shook Ron hard, dodging Ron's flailing arms.

'Whaaaa?'

'Here. Aguamenti.' Harry handed Ron a glass of water.

Ron jabbed his wand at the oil lamp on his night table, flooding the room with a steady glow. He took the glass from Harry's outstretched hand. 'Did I wake anyone else?'

'No. You weren't screaming. Just lots of thrashing. I wasn't asleep anyway.'

Ron squinted at Harry's face. The handprints had faded into a couple of light bruises across his cheekbones, and they were slightly swollen. 'You should let Mum do something with those,' he said gesturing toward Harry's face.

'Nah. They're all right. I kind of deserved it.' Harry touched one of the bruises, and winced a bit. 'I don't think I'm ever going to underestimate your sister again, though.'

'She's hurting.'

'Thanks for the newsflash, Captain Obvious.'

'Not just about Fred, git. Or Remus and Tonks. Or Colin. She thinks you're going to leave her behind again.'

'Why?'

Ron huffed, not realizing how much like Hermione he sounded. 'Do you realize this is the most you've talked to anybody since we came home? You've been avoiding all of us like you're the carrier of some sort of plague. Especially Ginny. She probably thinks you don't want to be around her anymore.'

'But that's not true...' Harry protested weakly.

'When was the last time you said anything to Ginny? Fred's funeral?'

Harry shrugged. 'Guess I didn't realize how much time had gone by.'

'Your birthday is in a week.'

'Oh.'

'It's not your fault, you know.'

'Sirius was.'

'No, he wasn't. You had no idea until we got there.'

'If I hadn't -'

'If you hadn't rushed headlong into London, if I hadn't left you last winter, if we hadn't gotten picked up by Snatchers... We could make a list of things we could have done differently, mate. But it's done, now.' Ron refilled the glass of water, and handed it back to Harry. 'Drink that.' Ron watched Harry, rather like Molly, until Harry took several gulps from the glass. 'I reckon she shouldn't have slapped you, mate, and she should apologize.' Harry looked at Ron, eyebrow raised in question. 'I was in the tree house. I saw the whole thing.'

Harry set the glass on the night table, and rubbed his eyes. 'You going to be all right?'

'Yeah. You need to get some sleep, Harry. You look like hell.'

'I feel like hell.'

'Stop blaming yourself, then. Fred knew what he was doing. So did Remus and Tonks. And Colin was told to leave, and he chose to stay. They all made their own decisions for their own reasons, and it wasn't solely to save your scrawny arse. Not a single person in this family blames you or holds you responsible. Except you, that is.' Ron settled back into bed. 'I saw Ginny at dinner, by the way. She looked about as good as you do right now.'

'That doesn't make me feel better, mate.'

'I'm sure it doesn't. But I reckon she feels pretty bad about it.' Ron closed his eyes. 'For Merlin's sake, will you please go talk to Ginny tomorrow? All the drama's giving me a headache.'

'Sure, Ron. Anything to make you feel better,' Harry retorted.

'I'm going to hate myself for saying this, but the tree house in that oak tree's a good place to talk. Far enough from the house to be alone.'

Harry gazed at Ron for a moment. 'And you know this how?'

'It's where Hermione and I went to go talk until she left.' Ron felt the prickle of flush creep up his neck to his face.

Harry noticed the flush and arched an eyebrow. 'Talk?'

'Yeah. Talk,' muttered Ron.

Harry closed his eyes. 'Please tell me you and Hermione didn't...' he trailed off.

'Er... Not in the tree house, anyway.' Ron squirmed uncomfortably.

Harry stared at Ron in shock. 'I'm going to go Scourgify my brain now.' He paused, and knowing he shouldn't, but unable to help himself, asked, 'What was it like?' Harry added hastily, 'No details, though.'

Ron stared at the ceiling, images of that afternoon flashing through his brain, as he struggled to come up with a way to describe it. 'I'm never going to have a problem performing the Patronus charm again,' he said quietly.

'Oh...'

'Yeah.'

Harry pulled himself to his feet. 'G'night, then.'

'G'night, Harry.' Ron got out of bed and picked up his diary.