Chapter Five: Thank You For the Memories

Disclaimer: The characters and settings within belong to J.K.Rowling. I am just giving them a little outing.

Chapter Five: Thank You For the Memories

The young bride sighs as she watches the faraway expression on her mother's face.

"Unfortunately, that is the case, my dear. Over the next few days, Hermione had to make some very important and difficult decisions."

As the final strains of her favourite Strauss waltz faded away, Hermione studied her parents from the armchair nearest the unused fireplace. Their safety was paramount, but the plan she had conceived over the last few weeks could prove the end of their relationship. The books removed from Hogwarts had given her some information, but she needed expert assistance to modify their memories and convince them to move to Australia.

"What is the matter, darling?" Jean Granger asked from the sofa she shared with her husband, a slight frown balanced on her brow as she noticed her daughter's sad expression.

"Oh, nothing, Mum. I was just thinking of... things," she replied, flashing a quick smile at her mother.

"You do know you can talk to us about anything that worries you, don't you, dear?"

"Yes, thanks, Mum. I know that." Hermione stood and moved over to sit between her mother and father. Reaching out to each side, she wrapped her arms around her surprised parents and whispered, "I love you, Mama and Pops."

Jean and Richard smiled at the childhood names they hadn't heard for years. "We love you too, chickadee."

For many minutes they sat together, listening to the CD playing their beloved classical music, allowing the harmony of the instruments swirling around the room to take their imaginations away from the simple living room. The young witch tucked that memory away deep into her heart, in case it was the last she ever had.

Later that night, once her parents had long since succumbed to sleep, Hermione took out her charmed chocolate wrapper. It was now the time to put into practice the faith she had in Severus Snape. Careful to avoid identifying herself, she tapped the foil with her wand.

Whitby's Chocolate. Suppliers to wizards and witches in Britain for over 300 years.

She hoped if anyone else had possession of Snape's wrapper, the legend would simply appear to be time-released advertising.

I'm here. Do you need something?

Sighing with relief, Hermione gathered her courage to reply.

I need help with something important. Can you meet me somewhere? Please?

Thank you. I'll be there.

After making a few last minute notes, Hermione dressed in dark, nondescript clothing and silently left the house. With a swift turn she Disapparated, appearing in the tunnel before the door into the Shack. A tap on her head provided concealment, then she slowly opened the door, wand in hand. Allowing her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom, she crept along the hall to the large room at the end. Snape was standing quietly before the window, black eyes glittering in the near dark. She listened carefully but could sense no other human presence.

As she ended the concealing charm, she noted Snape's almost invisible start.

"I see you have learned a little stealth, Hermione," he drawled, watching her closely. "Am I to expect a cadre of Aurors now?"

Huffing her impatience, she threw herself into his unsuspecting arms and wrapped hers around his waist. Tears flowed as she squeezed him tightly. "No, you foolish man! How could you think that of me? I told you I trusted you." She pulled back and studied his drawn, stressed face. "Why did you come if you thought that?" she asked, brows knitted.

Head bowed forward, he replied in a whisper, "Hope, Hermione. Pure hope."

She looked at him through tear-glazed eyes and reached up to touch his own slightly moist cheek. "Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"

"The only person who has hurt me is standing before you." The bitterness in his voice cut through the air like a surgeon's blade.

"You did what was necessary. Did it succeed?"

"Oh, yes. You are now looking at the Dark Lord's number one minion. I only have to bow and scrape and kiss his hem in the presence of others now. It hasn't diminished his fondness for the odd Crucio, however." His short bark of laughter belied the pain held deep in his eyes.

"Oh, Professor!" the young witch cried as she embraced him yet again.

"You do realise I am no longer your professor, don't you, Hermione? I think I lost the privilege of that title along with my self-respect. You may as well call me Severus. It's not like you haven't done so before."

Hermione flushed. "Well, that was when I was extremely worried about you. You know I didn't mean any disrespect."

"Be that as it may, I would prefer you addressed me by my first name now."

"If you wish, Severus. There, is that better?"

The tiny smile warmed his soul briefly. "Thank you. Now, what did you need? I do not have much longer before I need to return, or someone will become suspicious."

"How experienced are you with memory charms, Severus?"

"Memory charms?"

"Yes. Removing large parts of someone's memory and replacing them with false memories. Solid enough memories that they can live perfectly normally as if their past, and their family, did not exist," she explained, tears again leaking unbidden from her eyes.

"Your parents," he breathed, shaking his head at the depth of the girl's protectiveness. "You want them to forget you?"

"Of course I don't want them to forget me, but I need them to forget all about the Wizarding world and to have an overwhelming urge to leave the country for somewhere far away from all of this." She pleaded with him silently to understand her fear.

"What if you cannot reverse the enchantment?" His voice soft, Snape cupped her cheek with his long, slender fingers. "Can you live with that possibility?"

"I would rather take that risk than lose them," she asserted, lip quivering just a little.

Snape gathered her into his arms, resting his chin on her mass of curls. "You never fail to amaze me, Hermione. Your courage and loyalty and love surpass everything I have ever experienced. I regret never having had a daughter like you."

"You are still talking as if you have no future, Severus. What did I warn you about that? You are only thirty-seven, plenty of time to find someone you want to share your life with and have children," she chided.

"I know, I know. You will come and mother me into submission." He raised his hands in defeat. "I must go now, but I will discreetly look into the matter and let you know within a few days." He kissed her tenderly on the top of her head and turned to go. "Leave the way you came and stay Disillusioned."

"Thank you, Severus. Be careful, you are important to me too," Hermione murmured as he left without looking back.

***

Two weeks later, Hermione was reading in bed when she felt the foil, now always tucked close to her skin, heat again.

Meet me outside your house in two minutes – we don't have long.

Stunned by the urgency of the message, she stopped only to throw a light wrap over the brief slip she wore to bed in the summer. Grabbing her wand and casting a Silencing charm at her parents' bedroom door, she slipped out of the house to meet Snape.

"Over here," came the urgent whisper from under the tree by the front gate.

She ran to meet him, anxiety churning at his sudden appearance.

"Good grief, girl, what are you wearing?"

She looked down and flushed at the skimpiness of her attire, but as she was about to use her wand to Transfigure something more appropriate, Snape interrupted.

"Not now! We have no time."

"No time for what?" she asked, fear raising her voice an octave.

"The Dark Lord has ordered a team to come and take your parents in the early hours of the morning. We must perform the memory charms now and get them out of the house, then come back and remove all evidence of your presence, so it appears you no longer live here. This is what we need to do..."

Two frantic hours later, Hermione's parents were ensconced in an airport hotel with enough clothing and essentials for three weeks and tickets for Australia for the next day in their possession. It had taken some very skilful memory manipulation on Snape's part after waking them with the story of an emergency at Hogwarts, and a brief, spell-enforced nap while Snape and Hermione magically packed their belongings and conjured appropriate documentation and passports in the names of Monica and Wendell Wilkins, but eventually they had been Apparated to the hotel and left, luggage in hand, to check in as if they always arrived at hotels at one o'clock in the morning.

A quick trip back to the house to strip Hermione's room, leaving it looking like an unused guest room, and remove all photographs and other mementoes of the Grangers from the house, and it looked as if the unknown inhabitants were simply away on holiday.

"But what about the phone book, electoral roll, and council records?" Hermione asked, frowning as they stood in the sitting room and surveyed their handiwork.

"They do not get updated immediately, and it is unlikely those tasked with finding your parents will even know about such Muggle records. They are all purebloods, remember. I will visit your parents' lawyer as soon as I am able and, with a little Confundus, leave him with instructions to manage the Wilkins' property as needed while they are out of the country."

Hermione trailed her hand over the back of the couch where she had spent many happy evenings cuddled up to one or other parent. "What will they do for money?"

"I have dealt with that already. I transferred enough money from my Gringotts account to a Muggle bank account in their new name I opened yesterday to support them comfortably for about six months. They have the appropriate credit cards and such in their wallets. By the time that is running low, they should have found somewhere to work over there."

"You knew yesterday?" she gasped.

"I had decided on their identities yesterday. I only found out tonight's plans a few hours ago," he replied.

"But the money? How can I ever repay you?" The size of the sum to support two adults for six months was far more than she had ever possessed.

Snape took her face in his hands and looked her in the eye. "Hermione. Your faith in me is all I need. You have helped me survive this cursed existence. Without you..." His head dropped as his voice stilled in the dark quiet of the night.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "I will find a way to repay you, Severus Snape. I will."

"Just continue to believe in me, whatever you hear. That will be reward enough." Noticing the old clock in the hall striking two, he disengaged himself from her embrace. "Fuck! I must go. I want you out of here immediately, young lady. Things are about to heat up." He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Albus Dumbledore's cottage is on the east shore of Loch Na Creitheach, Isle of Skye. Go there and wait for me. I'll explain later." With a soft crack, he Disapparated.

Looking around the familiar surroundings, Hermione was filled with an immeasurable sense of loss. Would she ever see this house again? What if the Death Eaters destroyed it when they could not find her parents? Despite Snape's order, she was determined to witness the invasion of her home. A quick tap of her wand and she was Disillusioned. She ascended the stairs and found the spot she used to use as a child when she pretended to be a spy. Climbing over the banister, she carefully lowered herself onto the wide ledge above the hall cupboard. From there she had a clear view down the length of the hall into the kitchen and living room and part of the stairs. Unless anyone thought to climb up there, she was completely undetectable.

Three loud cracks startled her out of a light doze some time later. The time had come. Hand on wand, Hermione watched as three masked and cloaked figures entered her home. The desire to hex them all on sight simmered close to boiling point as the three men swiftly searched the house.

"Dammit, Snape. There's no-one here. You told the Dark Lord they would be here and unprotected," complained the short, thickset wizard.

Snape's voice appeared disembodied as he drawled through his mask. "My source was reliable; however, the information was gathered several months ago. Check the kitchen for food. If there are fresh supplies, they may only be away for the night."

"Nothing," reported the third man. "The cupboards have only dry supplies and canned food." Tall and thin, his voice was high-pitched and reedy, fear colouring his words.

"Look!" Short and stout was brandishing a sheaf of letters, gathered from behind the open front door. "They are all addressed to Philip and Nancy Perkins. This must be the wrong house. I don't want to be in your shoes when we tell him of your mistake, Snape," he sneered.

"There was no mistake. The Mudblood's parents did live here some months ago." He picked up the phone book and flicked the pages to the G's. "Look – Granger, Richard and Jean. This address." Tossing the book aside, he cursed. "The bloody Muggles have moved."

"Maybe those wretched followers of the old coot have hidden them," suggested tall and thin.

"Not that I am aware of. But then, my contacts with the Order have been irretrievably damaged recently." Snape's bitter laugh was joined by the sycophantic cackles of his two associates. "Nevertheless, we must leave everything as it was and return to report our failure. There is no point in alerting the Order to our mission."

Hermione held her breath as the three men made one final round of the house before carefully closing the front door behind them. Snape's performance had been magnificent. Not only had he prevented any wanton destruction of her home, he had seemingly led them right up the garden path. Now she understood why he had insisted on Transfiguring an old newspaper into fake mail. The man was a consummate spy.

Her next problem was to find the cottage, obviously Secret-Kept, that Snape had described. She remembered the tourist book her parents had used to plan family holidays over the years. It was one of the many, unidentifiable books they had left undisturbed. Turning to the section on the Isle of Skye, she found a small photograph of the tiny loch. The area was supposedly uninhabited, which of course made it the perfect location for a wizard's hideaway. Concentrating carefully on the area in the photo, she crossed her fingers and Apparated.

***

A/N: This was written for the Hermione Big Bang on LiveJournal, which celebrated Hermione's thirtieth birthday. Many thanks go to my friend and colleague, quaffswinegaily, who helped along the way, my beloved beta, ladyinthecloak, and my cheerleader, Michelle.