Chapter Text
Chapter 1
10th May 1998
Hermione woke in the darkness, unsure for a few moments of where she was. It had been an unsettled year of travelling while hunting horcruxes with Harry and Ron - sleeping in their borrowed magical tent, staying at Grimmauld Place and Shell Cottage. It took several seconds for her eyes to register the dim outlines of Ginny’s bedroom at The Burrow. She could make out a star filled sky outside the window which illuminated the desk below it, and Ginny’s bed against the wall a few feet away from her own camp bed. Hermione was just beginning to wonder why she had woken up when a soft whimpering came from Ginny’s bed.
Hermione hesitated for a few moments, torn on whether or not she should disturb the other woman. It would be natural for Ginny to be crying in the darkness after everything they had just gone through. She wanted to respect her friend’s privacy. Ginny’s brother Fred had died only a week ago, and his funeral had been held along with the friends and classmates who had been killed in the battle for Hogwarts. A battle that they had won, but at a terrible cost. Voldemort was dead at Harry’s hand; Death Eaters were being apprehended and efforts to restore the wizarding world to safety and integrity were already well underway. But Fred was gone. So were Tonks, and Lupin. Ginny’s friend and classmate Colin Creevey had been killed. It seemed that the grief of the loss of so many loved ones, along with the trauma of the battle they had fought, would slowly suffocate them despite their survival.
Another soft whimper sounded from the other bed again, and Hermione glanced over. Although Hermione couldn’t see her face, she could make out the outline of Ginny. She was moving fitfully, her head turning agitatedly from side to side. A louder cry escaped her and Hermione realised she was not crying, but in the throes of a nightmare.
Pushing down the covers and standing up, Hermione padded on bare feet over to her friend’s bed. She knelt beside her and gently stroked the hair away from Ginny’s face, making soothing sounds as she stroked the younger woman’s brow. Ginny continued to move restlessly, her face drawn in a look of anguish.
“Ginny, you’re alright. Shh,” Hermione whispered. She hesitated for only a second more before sliding into the bed beside Ginny and pulling the younger woman into her embrace. She began to stroke Ginny’s back, and gradually the agitated movements slowed, and the younger woman’s breathing settled into a relaxed rhythm. Hermione reached down to pull the kicked-away bed covers back over them both. Ginny’s head rested on Hermione’s shoulder, and Hermione resolved to lie there providing comfort until Ginny was completely settled and back in a deep sleep.
As she lay in Ginny’s bed, she could hear the soft sound of a floorboard creaking and knew that Mrs Weasley was once again roaming the house in the dead of night. Hermione knew that she was having trouble sleeping, and it was common to see both of Ginny’s parents in the kitchen first thing in the morning with dark circles under their eyes and a pot of now-cold tea between them. Hermione’s heart gave a twist of pain. As hard as it had been to lose so many friends, she could not imagine the suffering that the Weasleys were going through. Losing their son and brother had rocked the tight-knit family to their core.
Her thoughts turned to her own family. At least she knew her parents were safe in Australia. Now that she had survived, she had to come up with a plan to find them and restore their memories. The only problem was, she didn’t have a clue where they were. Australia was a big country. Did they go to one of the big cities, like Sydney or Melbourne? Did they gravitate towards the tropical north? Inland rural towns? Being dentists, they would have been able to settle anywhere. Hermione smiled to herself imagining them taking their morning coffee on a patio in the sunshine with a view of the Sydney Opera House and harbour, or maybe shooing kangaroos away from their vegetable garden in a peaceful sprawling country home, surrounded by eucalyptus trees and woken by the sound of kookaburras each morning.
She tuned this problem over in her mind. Now that the Ministry of Magic was in safe hands, she might be able to ask for some help in tracking them down. She had little hope on her own. It had hardly seemed important when she erased their memories of her existence, gave them false identities and the suggestion they pursue their lifelong dream to move to Australia. She had only been focused on getting them as far away as she could to keep them safe.
There was also the problem of the countercharm. She had studied for weeks to use a memory charm on her parents. Now she had to figure out how to restore their memories without causing any damage. She had learned that meddling with minds was no easy task, and the possible complications were many. Perhaps she could write to Professor Flitwick for advice. Her old charms teacher might be able to help her and make sure she would be able to perform the complicated spells required.
Her mind made up on the next course of action, Hermione allowed her body to relax. She was so comfortable, and Ginny certainly didn’t seem to be objecting to sharing her bed. Much better to not disturb the other woman, whose slow even breathing was lulling Hermione back towards sleep. Her eyes drifted shut again and she succumbed to her tiredness, and the comfort of the warm body beside hers.
* * *
The Weasleys, Hermione and Harry were seated around the breakfast table. The loud and animated atmosphere that usually accompanied such a gathering was absent, replaced by an oppressively sombre quiet. Conversation was muted and brief, and each seemed lost in their thoughts as they ate and made plans for the day. Ron was seated beside Hermione, and he kept glancing at her while Hermione avoided his gaze. She had been avoiding him quite a lot this past week. Ever since the battle she had tried her hardest to not be alone with him. She thought guiltily about why. In a moment of madness, of panic, of gratitude that he was concerned about the welfare of the house elves right before the battle had started, she had kissed him. She had been almost certain that one of or both of them were about to die and she had grasped at one desperate gesture to show him that she loved him. As soon as she had done it though she knew she’d made a mistake. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Ron. She did. But not like that. The almost dizzy grin he’d given her when she released him showed her that Ron obviously thought it was a declaration of her returned feelings for him. Guilt had overwhelmed her. She knew how he felt. She had known it for months. And now Ron thought that as soon as they were able to settle back into normal life, after the funerals and the exhaustion and the terror had abated, that they would move forward as a couple. She knew she had to talk to him. Living under the same roof as him and avoiding any awkward alone time would become increasingly difficult.
She was jolted out of her ponderings by George’s voice. “What on earth is that” he muttered, from his spot near the kitchen window where he had been rinsing his coffee cup in the sink. He was peering out towards the horizon, and the rest of the family suddenly snapped to tense attention. Mr Weasley hurried to join George at the window, wand in hand.
A large eagle owl fluttered onto the windowsill; a bunch of deep purple envelopes clutched in one taloned foot. George untied the string securing the envelopes and flipped through the stack. “There’s one here for each of us. They’re from the Ministry,” he declared with a puzzled expression. He began to pass each envelope to the addressee and Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise as George passed one of the envelopes across the table to her. Sure enough, her name was printed on the front in neat gold script. Turning it over she saw the Ministry of Magic logo embossed on the wax seal.
Ron had already torn open his envelope and was scanning the letter inside. He let out a gasp. “Blimey. Order of Merlin. First Class.” He looked up and gazed around the table. “They want to give me an Order of Merlin. For bravery,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.
Hermione gently broke the wax seal on her own envelope and slid the piece of thick parchment out. Her eyes flew over the text. She too had received notification that she has been nominated for and would be granted the prestigious medal. She looked around the table. The Weasleys were all staring at each other with stunned expressions.
Ron spoke again into the silence. “We’re all… we’re all getting an Order of Merlin?” he asked, and each red head nodded slowly in affirmation. Harry caught Hermione’s eye, and he mutely held his letter up too, showing her the identical text to her own letter.
There was a ripple of murmured surprise, of the first smiles to pass over their faces in the last week. Only Molly was unresponsive and silent, her head bowed over her own letter. She finally looked up, and Hermione was unsurprised to see tears falling silently down her face. She had seen Mrs Weasley cry so much this past week that it no longer felt awkward. What did surprise her was the sudden smile that joined the tears on her face. “I’m just so, so proud. Of all of you,” she said.
Mr Weasley slid his arm around her. “We both are,” he said, squeezing his wife’s shoulders. His own opened purple envelope lay on the table in front of him. “And, we will be proud to receive Fred’s Order of Merlin, First Class, which is being awarded posthumously.” A quiet sob escaped Mrs Weasley, but she still smiled tremulously through her tears.
Percy adjusted his glasses on his face as he read his letter. “The Wizengamot has moved quickly to get all this approved in a week. And the ceremony is being held at Hogwarts,” he observed.
The family seemed to become more animated after the news of the awards sank in. Hermione read through her letter again and mused that there probably wasn’t a more appropriate place to both acknowledge the losses they suffered and recognise the bravery of those who fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters than the place where it all happened. Going back to Hogwarts would be healing for everyone involved. Joining together with other families of those who had fought and died, and being able to share that grief with the only other people who could possibly understand would hopefully begin to mend some of the pain caused by the battle.
It would also give her a chance to speak to Professor Flitwick in person, to ask about restoring her parent’s memories. Not to mention, she needed to ask Professor McGonagall about returning to Hogwarts to complete her final year. Assuming she was able to find her parents and put them right again, she was also keen to return to normal life and plan for her future. Now that the task of hunting down and destroying Horcruxes, and Lord Voldemort with them had been completed, she wanted to dream again of what she would do with her life. She wanted to return to her studies, to testing and strengthening her powers, to learning all she could about the wizarding world she inhabited.
* * *
Hermione opened the door to Ginny’s room, finding the younger witch sitting at the small desk under the window. She was idly twirling a quill between her fingers, gazing out the window.
“Ginny? Are you okay?”
Ginny’s attention seemed to come back from far away. “Mmm” she hummed in noncommittal affirmation. Hermione saw that despite the quill in Ginny’s hand; there was no parchment or book open in front of her for writing. At Hermione’s puzzled look, Ginny smiled ruefully. “I’ve been too scared to keep a diary since that whole Chamber of Secrets business in my first year. But I do like to sit sometimes and put my thoughts into words. It helps me clear my head sometimes.”
Hermione nodded in understanding. “But you don’t write them down?”
Ginny smiled sadly and shook her head. “No. Sometimes I imagine I’m writing a letter to a friend, or maybe a book. Just the process of choosing the right words to express or explain something and putting them in an order that makes sense or even sounds beautiful is soothing to me. But I’ve never actually written down anything personal like that. Sometimes I think I’d like to, but then I remember how easily Tom Riddle used it to get into my head…” she shook her head again. “I know he’s gone now. But I don’t ever want to feel like that again.” She gave Hermione a searching look. “Not that you’re not welcome in my room, but why aren’t you out with Harry and Ron? I thought you three were joined at the hip.” She smiled a bit mischievously at her friend. “You know the papers are calling you three The Golden Trio.”
Hermione snorted. “Better than what they were calling us before. I suppose that’s something.” Then she sighed. “I’m not sure what to do about Ron,” she admitted.
Ginny put down her quill and turned to face Hermione, slinging one arm over the back of her chair and resting her chin on it. “What do you need to do? I thought you two were…” she shrugged. “Well, the way Ron has been looking at you, and some of the stuff he’s said, I thought I’d need to find a new bridesmaid dress soon.”
Hermione gave her an anguished look, and Ginny frowned. “So, you two aren’t…”
Hermione slumped down on Ginny’s bed. “No, we’re not. But I don’t know if he knows that. Right before the battle, I… we kissed. But it was a mistake. I don’t know how to tell him that.”
Ginny’s expression was unreadable. “You and Ron kissed?”
Hermione nodded miserably. “I thought we were both about to die. I lost my head. But I know now that what he feels for me, isn’t what I feel for him. And I haven’t had the heart to tell him that, not after everything that’s happened.”
Ginny gave her a long look. “He won’t just forget, you know. He might be waiting for you to make the first move, but he won’t let this go. He thinks you two are at the start of some grand romance, and you just need time to recover from the battle. You need to tell him. Sooner rather than later.”
Hermione chewed her lip. “I know, but I don’t want to hurt him.”
Ginny looked at her sternly. “So, what? You’ll wait until your wedding night to tell him you want to be friends? Or before your children are born?”
Hermione frowned. “Of course not, I’m not trying to lead him on.”
Ginny sighed. “Avoiding him is not going to work. You need to talk to him. Trust me. Harry and I have already had that conversation.”
Hermione looked up in surprise. “You and Harry? I didn’t know you were back together.”
Ginny gave her a tight smile. “Exactly. We’re not. We talked about it the other day. It was a mutual decision. We have both changed a lot this past year. And as much as I still adore Harry, we’re friends. That’s all he wants to be too. I’m not the hero-worshipping kid I was before, and he said he needs time to get his priorities sorted and start planning for his future. Now that he knows he has one, that is.”
Hermione mulled over this. She and Harry had not spent much time together since returning to The Burrow. No one had seemed inclined to talk much about their personal relationships.
Ginny’s voice broke into Hermione’s thoughts again. “Talk to Ron. He’ll be gutted,” she said, matter-of-factly. “But he deserves the truth too. And you both need to move on. He can’t do that if he thinks any second now you’ll declare your love from the rooftops.”
Hermione sighed. “I know. I just don’t want him to be hurt more, after everything that’s happened recently.”
Ginny gave her a shrewd look. “You don’t want him to be hurt, or you just don’t want to be the one doing the hurting?”
Hermione thought on that for a minute. It was true. She knew she needed to talk to Ron, to make it clear she’d made a mistake and that there was no romantic future for them. And she knew that in his eyes, and fairly so, she would be the bad guy. There was no way to avoid that. Ron getting hurt was inevitable. But her hesitation was entirely due to her own guilt and dread at being the one who caused that hurt. She met Ginny’s gaze once again. “When did you get to be so wise?” she asked the younger woman.
Ginny shrugged. “I’ve made more than enough mistakes when it comes to dating too. I might as well have learned from them.”
They were interrupted by a voice calling up from the garden below, and Ginny leaned over the desk to stick her head out of the window. She saw Harry below, holding two broomsticks, one of them her own. “You up for some one on one, Weasley?”
Ginny grinned down at him. It would be good to get back on a broom and have some fun to lighten the mood. “You’re on,” she called back down, and turned back to face Hermione, giving her a significant look.
Hermione sighed. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him.”
Passing Hermione on her way out the door, Ginny gave her friend a squeeze on the shoulder. “It’s a pity. I was looking forward to being a bridesmaid again.” She ducked through the door before Hermione could throw the pillow she’d just picked up.