Chapter 7 - Memories Change

Hermione was quite relieved when she answered her parents' front door and found Severus Snape scowling on the doorstep. He had been gone for just over an hour, and although she had not really expected him to suddenly abandon her, nor had she been able to completely shake off her doubts. His reluctance to stay with the Grangers had been all too obvious.

Hermione wasn't even really sure what she felt about living with her parents one more. Despite her desire to rejoin the Muggle world, the thought of living in a Muggle household, entirely separated from the wizarding population, had caused her enough panic to ask him to stay. Though maybe it wasn't the wizarding world she needed, but him. Severus Snape was her connection to reality, the only person around her at this moment who completely understood who and what she had become. And she knew by now that he could be a very thoughtful and interesting friend when he cared to be.

'What took you so long?' Ever since their long conversation on New Year's Eve, Hermione no longer felt impertinent addressing such remarks to her former teacher. He didn't seem to mind, either.

'Someone,' he said, 'left her belongings strewn all over the room. It took me a while to sort out my things from yours and get it all packed. Now, are you going to let me in, or am I going to stand out here all evening?'

'Come in,' she said, making a grand show of standing to one side to allow him into the house. However, as soon as he was over the threshold, Hermione grabbed his sleeve and dragged him through the hallway, past the entry to the living room and into the kitchen at the back of the house. Her mother and father were both at work – Tom was cutting potatoes while Alexandra tied string around the meat, getting ready to start the roast.

'I'm taking the professor upstairs to show him his room,' Hermione called as she passed the kitchen and led the professor up the rather narrow stairwell that led to the second storey.

Her 'guest' stopped firm in his tracks when he saw that there were two bedrooms, the third door leading to what was obviously a bathroom.

'Your mother said there were two spare bedrooms?' he hissed. From the expression on his face, Hermione could tell that he was contemplating the rather awful thought that even here, they might have to share.

'These are the spare bedrooms. My parents' bedroom is downstairs, just off the living room.'

'I see.'

Hermione almost laughed aloud when she saw how much the admission seemed to relieve him, not that she could blame him, exactly. Although they had been getting along well enough as roommates, she was more than happy to have her own space again. Maybe it was an only child thing, but even after six years at Hogwarts, Hermione had never become completely accustomed to sharing a room. Not even casting a dozen privacy spells around her four-poster every night could recreate the feeling of being in a room without Lavender and Parvati. Even Ginny was a trying companion at times.

'My mother found us both some spare bed sheets, but she said that she would allow you to make your own bed if you really wanted to. I've already done my own.'

Guiding him into the room on the left, Hermione briefly wondered if she should go and leave him to it, but then decided to stay, standing in the doorway as she watched him draw his wand and point it at the bed sheets and force them to smooth themselves on the mattress and tuck themselves securely around it. Unlike when she had seen Molly Weasley do it at the Burrow, Hermione noticed that Severus' version was a little lopsided, and although the sheets did fold themselves as he directed, they were a loose in places and stretched tight in others. It was serviceable, however, and she wisely chose not to comment.

'Now, do you have nothing better to do, Miss Granger, or are you loitering in the hope that I will once again find ways to distract you while you wait for food?'

'Actually, I did have something to say.'

He raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. 'Go on, then.'

She moved from the doorway closer to him, close enough that she actually had to tilt her head to look up at him. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage, took one more step even closer and threw her arms around him, causing him to grunt in surprise as he stumbled back. With her eyes closed, she wasn't sure whether he was deliberately trying to shake her off or merely flailing to keep balance.

'Miss Granger, what...'

'Thank you,' she said softly but clearly against his shirt. 'For everything.'

Not daring to stay long enough to wait for a reply, Hermione then promptly let go of him, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste to get out of his room and into her own where she could hide her beaming smile in her pillow. She was glad he was staying. She had wanted to thank him for a while now, and something about Severus Snape's presence made her feel brave again.

Severus was so shocked when Hermione impulsively threw her arms around him that, for a moment, he couldn't even understand what was happening beyond that fact that he needed to stop this bumbling assailant from tackling him to the ground.

When he regained his balance, he was just in time to hear her thank him and was left completely dumbfounded when she bolted out of his room. He heard the loud bang! as she slammed her own door behind her.

Bloody hell.

Sinking down onto his bed, Severus rubbed his face vigorously with his hands and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Had Hermione Granger really just hugged him?

No – she had thanked him. Then she had hugged him.

Him. Slimy Snape. Git of the Dungeons.

It had been such a simple gesture. A hug from... a friend. Yet his hands shook slightly, and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to contain his nervous laughter.

Severus had never had any illusions about how his students saw him. He had carefully cultivated aspects of the Great Black Dungeon Bat persona to inspire awe and healthy amounts of fear in his more impressionable pupils. He was also very aware of the fact that, throughout his teaching career, he had deliberately favoured his Slytherin students and done his utmost to stifle the pretensions of the more conceited Gryffindors and Ravenclaws – beyond what was necessary for his work with Albus and the Order, if truth be told.

When had he started to think of himself that way?

Severus saw himself clearly for the first time in decades. All his previous thoughts of striking out on his own looked ludicrous from this new perspective. He was as ready for peacetime as a newborn Hippogriff, and the only thing forcing him to lock his knee joints and stay upright was the influence of Hermione Granger. Perhaps that wasn't so surprising. Despite everything she had been through, Hermione was still one of the most normal people he knew. Severus resolved there and then that he would not take her for granted. Merlin knew he needed a strong dose of normal if he was to have any hope of pulling himself back together in a way that would stick.

He should be the one thanking her.

Bravery had limits, and after her impulsive decision to hug the professor, Hermione could not bring herself to face him again until she had to, preferably over the dinner table with her parents. Neutral territory, as it were.

Peeking down from the top of the staircase, she saw that he was already downstairs offering her mother and father assistance by setting the table.

She sighed. That should probably be her job.

Trying to look unconcerned, Hermione walked downstairs in what she hoped was an inconspicuous manner.

'Hermione! There you are! I was just about to send your father up to get you. Help Severus set the table. Dinner is almost ready.'

As Hermione got caught up in the flurry of activity preceding the meal, she did not give another thought to the professor until she found herself seated opposite him being offered potatoes.

'Have you taken your potion today?' he asked softly.

She smiled. 'Of course. I took it just before dinner.'

'Hermione told us about her illness and the reason that you accompanied her to Sydney to find us.'

That was her father. Hermione wasn't too concerned that, up to now, he really hadn't said much about anything. Her mother was always very much the outspoken and slightly rebellious only daughter of a successful barrister while her father often acted in times of stress like he was still the youngest (and smallest) of the town cabinet maker's four sons. However, for all that he didn't say, her father was an excellent judge of character. She wondered what he thought of Severus Snape.

'Yes. It's unfortunate that Miss Granger wasn't well enough to make the trip of her own accord.'

'Surely you could call her "Hermione"? You've been travelling with her for almost a week!'

'As with students, so with teachers, it is hard to shake old habits. Hermione has yet to stop addressing me as "Professor".'

Alexandra smiled. 'So, you are the same Snape who taught Hermione Potions.'

'Yes. I was the Potions teacher at Hogwarts for over fifteen years. Hermione was in my class until her sixth year.'

Hermione held her breath for a moment, hoping against all the odds that one of her parents would change the subject rather than ask the next question. It was not to be.

'So, what do you do now that you're no longer teaching?'

Sure enough, Hermione saw that the professor's expression immediately became unreadable. She knew very little of what he had been doing since the war; habitual respect for him and his privacy had stopped her from prying into his personal affairs. For a moment, there was a tense silence, and then he sighed.

'I don't know how much your daughter has told you about my past, but the war was difficult for me,' he said. 'I no longer wish to teach, but I have yet to determine what else I might be qualified for. To answer your question, I am currently unemployed.'

Hermione was surprised at Professor Snape's willingness to meet the question head on. Over the last week, he had often been restless, jumpy and ill at ease with her as well as others. She could not be sure how difficult it was for him to present an appearance of ease and relative openness, but she was grateful that he was making an effort with her parents.

'So, why didn't you just send Hermione off on a plane if the magic was the problem?' Tom asked.

It was now Hermione's turn to struggle with her emotions. Despite her progress over the last week, it was still a sensitive topic. She took deep, measured breaths, willing away her sadness and frustration. She concentrated on carefully slicing her meat into bite-sized pieces. She knew that she should speak for herself, but somehow the words wouldn't come. She could almost feel the weight of the professor's gaze on her before he answered.

'I am afraid that as condescending as this will sound, there is rather more to it than the fact that Hermione can't use her magic as a result of her illness. Her magic is not gone. She is just having problems channelling it in a stable, controlled manner. In fact, now that she's feeling a bit better, I need to supervise her while she works through a range of magical exercises designed to help her regain control of her power. That is also the reason I accepted your kind offer to stay,' he said, inclining his head in Alexandra's direction. 'Until Hermione regains that control, it's safer for her to have a magical companion.'

Since both Tom and Alexandra seemed satisfied with his answers, the conversation turned to more general topics for the rest of the meal. When they removed to the living room afterwards, Hermione could have kicked him when the professor said, 'If you don't mind me asking, how did you recover your memories? From what I was given to understand, Hermione intended to reverse the spell herself.'

It wasn't that she didn't want to know. Of course she was curious as to how Wendell and Monica Wilkins had recalled their existence as Thomas and Alexandra Granger. But she had wanted to bring it up in her own time. Preferably after she and her parents had re-established a bit of routine and normalcy.

Now fed, watered and in the sort of good mood that only a nice roast can create, Hermione saw that her father was ready to talk. Tom sat back in his chair with his hands comfortably rested on his stomach. 'Well, I suppose that is the question, isn't it?' Turning to his wife, he said, 'Alex and I have talked a lot about what happened ever since we recovered our memories, but there are some parts we still can't make sense of. I hope that Hermione can help us to complete the picture.'

Hermione took a deep breath and told herself that she was ready for this. She would tell her parents exactly what she had done to them and take responsibility for the hurt and confusion she had caused. She would be an adult and hear their account without flinching.

She was petrified.

'Of course, Dad. You start, and... and I'll take over when you need me to.'

'All right, well, hmm. I suppose it makes sense to start with the evening Hermione did whatever it is she did to our memories.' His forehead wrinkled slightly as he cast his mind back. 'I can now remember that we all ate dinner together, but when I started watching the telly after that, I... It was an odd feeling, but I froze for a moment, and then everything went black. The next thing I remember is waking up in bed thinking that my name was Wendell Wilkins.' He frowned, obviously still bothered by the fact that he couldn't piece the events together properly.

It was not difficult for Hermione to cast her mind back to that evening. She had replayed it over and over again in her mind during the long lonely nights in the tent, wondering if she would ever be able to undo what she had done that night.

'Hermione? Where are you? Weren't we all going to eat a slice of cheesecake and finish that game of Scrabble?'

Snapping her eyes open once more, Hermione concentrated all her mental energy on the incantation she wanted.

Stupefy!

Her mother hit the sink and started falling, Hermione moved into the room and quickly levitated the body to the ground just in time. Now that her mother was down, Hermione had to move fast. She did not want to take the chance that her father had heard the sound and would come to see what might have happened in the kitchen.

First, she locked away their memories of her. Watching her life through her mother's eyes was bad enough. She had expected nothing less than fierce love and protection from her excitable mother. However, going through her father's mind and both seeing and sensing the deep love that he had for his daughter was much worse in a way. She had never realised just how often he was watching or just how proud of her he was until she took it all away from him, burying it deep within his mind.

Forgive me...

After she had removed their memories, she planted a strong suggestion in their mind that all their affairs had been settled in England. They wished to move to Australia immediately. Her own childhood memories of that country were weak, so she had specifically borrowed a book of photos from her local library and memorised every detail so that she could now transmit those images into her parents' minds.

Dashing back to her parents' bedroom, Hermione was shaking with fear and sorrow and exhaustion as she took one final look at her parents' frozen features. She gently kissed her father, then her mother.

Please, just be safe...

'... and, after casting a few spells on the house, I Apparated directly to The Burrow a little after midnight.'

Hermione wiped away the tears that had started rolling down her cheeks halfway through her narration. She did not to tell her parents that she had collapsed in the middle of the Weasley's orchard and cried until she had no more tears left to shed. Nor did she mention that she had given Molly Weasley the fright of her life when she was found there the next morning, curled up asleep on the grass.

It was Hermione's mother who broke the silence after the long narrative. Uncharacteristically, Alexandra did not focus on the person to whom she was speaking but stared intently at the wallpaper. When she spoke, her tone betrayed the fact that her mind was far away.

'When I woke up, it was very abrupt – like coming to after anaesthesia. It was early morning, but even though I got up and started making breakfast, I felt very groggy. It was like I'd had a migraine the night before, and it was taking a bit longer to get going than usual. There was nothing alarming about how I was feeling; it just seemed like it wasn't my day. I couldn't for the life of me remember where I had left my keys the night before, and I had no clue why there was a half-eaten cheesecake in my fridge. It wasn't anyone's birthday that I could recall...'

Alexandra frowned, letting her words trail off as she struggled to remember that morning. After a moment, Tom took over.

'It was different for me. I woke up with an urgent need to start packing our things so that we could move to Australia. It annoyed me that I couldn't clearly account for how the first week of my time off from the clinic had passed, and it frustrated me even more when I realised that between your mother and I, we hadn't even decided what pieces of furniture to ship down and what to sell or put in storage. And we were leaving at the end of the month!'

Here, Tom paused, giving Alexandra just enough time to jump back in. This time, she addressed Hermione and Severus directly. It was obvious that she had no trouble recalling this part of the story.

'We had so much to do; we spent a lot of time at home packing our things and making arrangements for the move. The first time the outside world found us was quite a shock. Sarah Overton was the first to drop by. Do you remember Georgia Overton from prep, Hermione? Sarah is her mother.'

Hermione nodded, but she was at a loss as to why or how her mother was still in touch with the mother of a girl she had never been particularly friendly with all the way back in prep school. She and Georgia had played together once or twice, that was all. However, looking back, Hermione realised with a sinking feeling that it had always been Mrs Overton, not Georgia, who she had wanted to avoid. Even though Hermione had been young at the time, Georgia's mother had always struck her as odd. Mrs Overton had always somehow known when Hermione and Georgia made plans to tease Michael, Georgia's little brother, and once, Hermione had seen her friend's mother pick up the phone just before it started ringing. It had never occurred to Hermione until this moment that Mrs Overton's uncanny foresight might be exactly that – a minor magical gift that might make her immune to the Muggle-Repelling Charms Hermione had left on the house.

Alexandra continued. 'Well, one morning at about the time your father and I had managed to turn half the house upside down putting things away, Sarah came knocking on the door about the book club we had talked about starting.'

'Alex! How are you? I hope I'm not too early. I had a few errands to run this morning, but they didn't take as long as I expected.'

Monica swelled with indignation. 'Before I answer your questions, Sarah, perhaps you might be so good as to tell me why you persist in calling me "Alex"? You know very well that my name is Monica!'

'...I can't even remember the last time I had been that angry or disliked a person so much. After a little more of the same, Sarah stormed out, and I remember thinking that we couldn't leave England fast enough!' Alex tried to smile, but it turned out somewhat crooked.

Hermione felt sick. Like a heavy weight had dropped into her stomach and settled there. At the time, she had felt so in control, so supremely confident that her plan was foolproof. She hadn't thought twice about magically forging her parents' signatures on letters to the water and electricity companies to let them know that their services would no longer be needed. She had organised locums for her parents' dental clinic indefinitely when she had found out that the legal process of selling it off would be too slow for her needs. She remembered feeling completely sure that her wards would keep out any unwanted visitors. She had trusted in those wards to keep her parents safe until they boarded the plane using the tickets she had bought them.

'Who,' she asked. 'Who else came to see you?'

Her father answered. 'The day after Mrs Overton had tea with your mother, Inspector Reed paid us a visit.'

Hermione cringed. Another figure from her childhood. Once, immediately after one of her more frightening displays of accidental magic at school, Hermione had run away. She hadn't gone any further than the playground just down the road, but she could remember wishing over and over again that the teachers wouldn't find her. If they couldn't find her, she wouldn't get in trouble.

Hours later, after countless men and women had walked straight past the swing she was sitting on without giving any hint they were aware of her presence, a young police officer had sat down directly in front of her and asked her to tell him what had happened. Since he had kind blue eyes and a cheeky smile, Hermione had had no qualms about pouring out her troubles to the kind man. After being a very good listener, Constable Reed had even given her some very good advice about finding ways to distract herself when she was upset or angry. He had then taken her home to her parents.

'That wouldn't happen to be Inspector Kyle Reed, by any chance?'

Hermione had almost forgotten that the professor was still in the room. He hadn't moved a muscle since her parents had started telling their story.

Her father raised an eyebrow in surprise. 'It was, actually. Do you know him?'

The professor shrugged. 'Reed is a wizard. Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I believe. I didn't realise they planted the odd new recruit into the Muggle police force.'

Alexandra smiled. 'I'm glad they did. I'm not sure how he found out about us, but he was very understanding during his visit. He patiently showed us records, various documents, even photo identification that marked us as the Grangers, and he never got frustrated when we kept insisting that we were Monica and Wendell Wilkins. He did seem a bit troubled when he left us, but he promised that he would get to the bottom of the confusion.'

Tom sniffed. 'I suppose he must have done some magic on us as well. By rights, we should have been at our wits end, hearing from a police officer we knew and trusted that our identities were a lie.'

'Oh, well, we muddled through. Tell Hermione and Severus about MI5, Tom.'

Tom gave Alexandra a long-suffering look.

'I wasn't about to forget to tell her about bloody MI5. Where was I? Well, after Reed's visit, we continued clearing the house and preparing for the move to Australia. We were in the middle of a discussion about the merits of the Gold Coast over Brisbane one evening when the doorbell rang very insistently...'

'Are you the man who currently calls himself Wendell Wilkins?'

However, before they had made up their minds as to whether to trust David or not, there was a loud CRACK!, and all of a sudden, a tall man wearing a pinstriped dress materialised in the Wilkins' kitchen.

Irritation passed over his face, quickly suppressed. 'Not that you need to know, but my name is Ulysses Redmond. With half of tonight's mission complete, it is my unfortunate duty that I require your active assistance with the other half. You both have a choice. Either you come with me of your own accord, or I do to you what I just did to Walker there, and you come with me whether you like it or not. Which shall it be?'

'... he led us to his car, parked outside next to Walker's, and drove us to a small house just twenty minutes away. We have absolutely no recollection of what happened after we entered the house. The next thing we both remember is waking up in the living room, Tom and Alexandra Granger once more, with no sign that David Walker had ever been there with us. The only thing left of our experiences at the strange house was a memory of Ulysses Redmond's voice telling us that going to Australia was a very good idea and to "make the necessary arrangements with all haste". Once we managed to get our thoughts back in order, we put our affairs in the hands of the family solicitor and changed our plane tickets to the first flight out to Sydney.'

Tom frowned, remembering the confusion and discomfort of that time. He looked directly at Hermione as he drew in a long breath and added, 'We realised that it was you who had done those things to our memories originally, but we never found out what Ulysses took away, or why any of it was necessary, until today.'

'That man sounds like Mr Roberts,' Hermione whispered to herself.

'What did you say, dear?' Alexandra asked, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she struggled to pull herself out of the bad memories.

'The man David Walker referred to, the campsite owner, Mr Roberts. He was Obliviated several times during the Quidditch World Cup.' Hermione couldn't keep the horror from her voice. She should have known, she should have foreseen the consequences. Magic was not a toy, it was power, it was responsibility, and she had, despite the advantage of growing up in a Muggle household, managed to forget that important fact.

The sound of the professor clearing his throat softly was enough to break all three Grangers out of their respective reveries. 'I believe that I can shed a very small amount of light on what happened to you while under the care of Ulysses Redmond.'

He took their silence as permission to go on.

'When I was at Hogwarts, Ulysses was a year or two above me in Ravenclaw. After gaining Outstandings in several of his NEWTs, he entered the Ministry of Magic, originally as an Obliviator. However, I remember hearing through the grapevine that, not long after I started teaching at Hogwarts, he was promoted to the Department of Mysteries. Since he was an Unspeakable, I have absolutely no idea what he did after that time.'

'But don't Unspeakables only concern themselves with all the obscure subjects in the Department of Mysteries like the brains and time and such? Surely they don't routinely break into people's houses and restore their memories!' Hermione panicked at the thought that her parents had come to the attention of the Ministry of Magic. That had been exactly the outcome that she had hoped to avoid.

Severus glared at her. 'I wasn't finished. As I was saying, he was an Unspeakable for many years, and I didn't hear again of him until after the Dark Lord had taken over the Ministry. As your parents may have gathered from his attitude and appearance, the Redmonds are an old wizarding family; most of its members have been Sorted into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. He was never a supporter of You Know Who, but he was safe under the new regime. Based on certain remarks Lucius Malfoy let fall at times, Ulysses was certainly intelligent and influential enough to keep a very tight grip on whatever department he did, and continues to lead, at the Ministry. I believe he appeared to comply with the new regime, and he never really attracted much notice because, ultimately, no one ever had any idea what he and his co-workers did. Based on your story, I would guess that, with his background in Obliviation and the Mysteries, he now leads a wizarding equivalent of MI5 and that his duties include keeping an eye on the activities of similar Muggle organisations.'

Hermione rolled this idea back and forth in her mind. It was possible that there was such a thing as a wizarding MI5, but its role must be narrower. After all, the nature of magical administration was all about keeping the Muggles in the dark. Security was a huge part of what several Ministry departments worked on. However, before she could mention that, she wanted another question answered.

'So, this Ulysses essentially went along with Voldemort while he was in power?'

The professor flinched. Hermione supposed that despite what Professor Dumbledore had always said, using the name was probably never going to be en vogue among Tom Riddle's former associates.

'Redmond used his particular situation and position to his advantage to continue his work, whatever that is. There's a difference.'

'If he was so concerned with maintaining his position, why did he let my parents go?'

'You should let Redmond's actions speak for him, Miss Granger,' the professor replied softly. His voice was still even, but his gaze intense as he fixed it on her. 'Just as you chose your path, others chose theirs based on what they believed and what options were available to them at the time. Perhaps you would not have done the same in Redmond's position, but you cannot deny that Redmond specifically made sure to tell your parents to leave. At his own risk, I might add, had your parents been found and their memories searched.'

His explanation was met with silence until Tom ventured, 'Well, is it at all possible that we might be able to regain the memories Ulysses took from us?'

Severus looked troubled. 'Perhaps. There may be a way to reverse the spell, but I couldn't help you with it. Without knowing what Redmond did, there is a far greater chance that anything I tried would damage your memory, perhaps permanently.'

Tom nodded. He seemed to have expected nothing else.

Severus took advantage of the following lull in their conversation to address Alexandra. 'Today has been rather tiring, so if you have no further questions at this stage, I might go to bed.' That was obviously the truth; his eyes were red rimmed and he looked pale, even for him.

'Of course, Severus! You don't mind if I call you that, do you? "Mr Snape" just seems so formal,' Alexandra said quickly. 'You have everything you need, don't you? I think I forgot to mention that Tom and I are both on holidays at the moment, so how about we talk about any plans for the rest of your stay over breakfast tomorrow?'

Hermione could see that the professor's smile was rather strained.

'Of course. Until tomorrow.'

Having gone far above and beyond his normal endurance of small talk, he wasted no more time or energy before sweeping out of the living room and up into the house. Hermione would have dearly loved to do the same. She felt like she had been through the wringer at least twice today, but she recognised that although the professor might well be very tired, he had also left them so that they could sort things out as a family.

'I wish I could say that I didn't realise how hard things would be for you after what I did, but I honestly thought that I acted for the best.' Since Hermione was all out of tears, her confession came out rather flat, but her distress almost choked her as she moved to sit on the floor near her mother and father.

Alexandra stroked her daughter's hair, tucking a few loose strands behind Hermione's ear. 'It's over now. What we've haven't been able to understand, though, is why you didn't simply explain the situation to us. We could have found a solution together. We...'

Alexandra seemed to falter for a second but visibly steeled herself to say the next part.

'...we do understand that because of who and what you are, Dad and I are no longer the people you most often turn to for guidance in your life, but we've always encouraged you to share things about your new world with us, and we've really tried to keep up with it all, as far as possible. I suppose what is hardest for us to grasp is why, despite all our effort, when it came down to it, you chose to treat us as ignorant Muggles, to be changed and sent away at your will.'

Her mother's disappointed words cut deeply. She had no excuse. None that would hold up for more than a minute, anyway.

Despite how difficult it had seemed at the time to run away with Harry and Ron, Hermione now knew that there was nothing more painful than being held accountable for her actions by those she loved – and being found wanting. Despite the fact that their ordeal had ended well, despite the fact that her parents were safe and happy and they still clearly loved her, she knew that she would forever regret having broken their trust in her.

Hermione apologised to her parents once more. But she knew that the words themselves would make no difference. They had already forgiven her as fully as they could, but she had no answer that would assuage their need to understand.

When she made her way up the stairs later, Hermione was surprised to see that the professor was still awake, leaning against his doorway, waiting for her.

'What you did for your parents was very brave,' he said quietly, his eyes fixed on hers. 'I mean that as the highest praise I can give a Gryffindor.'

At this point, it was all Hermione could do not to scream with frustration.

'How can you say that?' she asked flatly. 'You heard what happened. What I did.'

...and how badly I failed...

'I did. And I think you were a very young woman with an impossible burden on your shoulders and very little time to find a solution. I am not saying that you were right but merely that you should not judge yourself so harshly.'

The words were close enough to what Hermione so badly wanted to hear that she allowed them to soothe her. However, after a moment she looked at him suspiciously. 'Why are you bothering to tell me this?'

He looked up and met her eyes. Used to the intensity of his dark eyes, Hermione did not look away, but searched his features for any meaning beyond his words.

'Perhaps because I am well acquainted with the consequences of allowing such guilt to fester.' Without another word, he gently pushed her forward into her room and softly closed the door behind her.

Hermione turned around and stared at her door for a moment, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

Perhaps, in time, she might be able to acknowledge that he was right.

AN: My apologies that this chapter took so long to post. It took a long time to write and even longer to edit. Many thanks to my beta, JunoMagic.