A DAUGHTER'S PLIGHT

Based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling

Mrs. Rowling owns the characters and setting, which would logically mean that I do not.

"What a trip," said Ron as he stepped out into the Australian sun, squinting his eyes against the light as he took in his first proper view of the outside of Perth International Airport. "Takes a lot out of you, travelling the Muggle way, doesn't it? All that mess with passports and customs and switching planes in Dubai and..."

"It's a perfectly good way of travelling," said Hermione, a little more sourly than she'd intended. "Thousands of people do it every day."

Truth be told, the long flight had been extremely tiring. And while she didn't want to admit it to Ron, there had been times during the much-too-long hours in cramped airplane seats when she'd been mentally kicking herself for having turned down Kingsley Shacklebolt's generous offer of a special long-distance Portkey. It was just that... well, somehow it just hadn't felt right to make this trip through Portkey or other magical means.

"Really makes you feel for the Muggles, doesn't it?" said Ron, either not noticing her sour tone or choosing to ignore it. "Everything's so complicated for them. Bugger if I know how they manage without ma -"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

" - without manpower enough to, er, make international security easier?" Ron tried, casting nervous glances at the stream of Muggles (several of them fellow passengers from the flight) around them. "Yeah, it's a crying shame that, er, as we're about to enter a new century, that we still have planes that -"

"Will you stop making such a spectacle of yourself?" Hermione whispered, cutting him off. "I would very much like it if there were at least a few people left in the world who didn't think we were absolute lunatics!"

"All right, all right," said Ron. Then, lowering his voice and looking at her with some concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Hermione muttered. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, aside from the fact that we've just flown halfway across the world in a tiny and overly crowded metal room?" said Ron. "Okay, when they showed movies on those tiny screens, that was really cool, and the food wasn't half bad either -" (and it would take a Ron Weasley to appreciate aeroplane food, Hermione thought) "- but still, that's a pretty good reason to not be completely all right."

"I'm fine," Hermione repeated, trying as best as she could to let those two words convey that he should seriously consider dropping the subject if he knew what was good for him.

Ron, of course, completely missed the point. "Look, it's okay. You're nervous, I get it. Pretty serious family matters here. I remember when Fred and..." And all of a sudden, he trailed off, and a shadow seemed to fall over his face.

In one instant, Hermione's annoyance vanished. While Ron was starting to resemble more of his old outgoing self, joking and sniggering the way he used to, there were still times when he or someone else would say or do something that reminded him of Fred's death, and then he'd sort of shut down, becoming oddly quiet.

She took his hand and squeezed it softly. "My family matters, yes," she said softly. "You didn't have to come along. God knows you have enough family matters of your own right now. I mean, after..."

But he shook his head, forcing himself to speak. "The world won't stop just because we lost people we cared about. And I know my - I knew my brother, he wouldn't have wanted us to mope around. He's probably making faces at us from Heaven right now, the git. Telling us to get over it."

She giggled, despite herself. "It would have been like him."

"Yeah, and I already told everyone back home that you shouldn't have to face this alone. They understand."

And they probably did, thought Hermione, even if it had taken a few of them some time.

When she, a few days earlier, had announced that she was going to Australia in order to restore the modified memories of her parents, Ron had immediately offered to come along. It had only been a week since Fred's funeral, and the Weasleys were still in mourning; not to mention that the British wizarding world was still in a minor state of chaos after the fall of Voldemort. Those who weren't mourning their losses were busy trying to clean up the mess that inevitably occurred after a war, and many people were doing both at the same time.

Molly Weasley had been livid, not at all willing to let one of her sons travel abroad so soon after having lost one of them (even Charlie had taken an extended leave from his work in Romania and was staying with the family), but Ron - foolish, insensitive, loveable Ron, who always said the wrong things at the wrong time and never seemed to know when to keep his mouth shut, but who would always come through for you when it really counted - had insisted that Hermione shouldn't have to go alone and that someone should be with her.

Strangely enough, it had been Percy who had spoken up and pointed out that after all that had happened, Hermione was as good as part of the family - so by extension, that made her parents family as well, and so it was only right that a Weasley joined Hermione to Australia. "I would have offered to do it," he'd said, "but I can't, not now, not so soon after... But Ron has more than earned the right. We should let him go, Mum."

It had been strange to hear the ever-pompous Percy talk like that, but Hermione had noticed that after the long period of estrangement from his family, not to mention Fred's death, his attitude had been notably different. And in the end, Mrs. Weasley had given in, provided that they Floo-called her the instant they set foot on Australian ground, just so she'd know that that "infernal Muggle contraption" hadn't malfunctioned and killed them both.

And, Hermione had to admit, it was a tremendous relief to know she would have Ron at her side as she sought out the parents who didn't remember who she was or even who they themselves were.

She still didn't know how he'd managed to afford the trip, and didn't particularly want to ask, but suspected that he had for once agreed to accept Harry's help with money. Though Ron had often grumbled about being poor, he had never wanted to accept "charity," and had never asked for even a small loan from anyone - not even Harry, who had money to spare and would have been glad to help out. But this time, Hermione thought, Ron might have decided to make an exception, purely because he was worried about her.

She wasn't at all sure that she, of all people, really deserved all this.

The feelings were welling up in her again. They'd come every now and again over the last year; feelings of grief and guilt, mixed with just a little bit of nausea, but since the war ended their attacks had been more frequent.

Hermione stifled a sigh. Normally, she would have been thrilled about the prospect of going to Australia. It was such a fascinating country, both from a Muggle and a magical viewpoint. Just like it was the native home of many, many mundane plants and animals that were completely unlike anything you'd find in the rest of the world, so was a lot of the magical flora and fauna unique to the country, such as the Billywig or the Bunyip. The Australian outback also held several purely-wizard villages hidden from Muggle eyes, bigger and probably even more fantastic than old Hogsmeade back home in Britain.

Yes, normally, she would have been beside herself with excitement to be in Australia, and would probably have made several lists about all she wanted to do and all the places she wanted to visit. But the situation wasn't normal at all, and this wasn't just a convenient holiday with her boyfriend.

"Hermione," said Ron's voice, yanking her out of her thoughts. "We'll find them, no problem. We already know their address, right?"

"Yes, Ron." Hermione didn't want to tell him what was really on her mind. Not now. So, as always, she forced the emotions down, repressing them and forcing herself to smile. "You're right. It's silly of me to worry. Let's go see if we can find the bus, shall we? We can't be standing here all day."

"More Muggle-style travelling," said Ron in the voice of someone bravely facing an unpleasant, but necessary task. Then he brightened. "D'you think they'll show a movie on the bus too?"

"I doubt it."

"Typical."

The problem with being so good at thinking (and Hermione had never seen any reason for false modesty; she knew she was smart, so why should she pretend she didn't?) was that it was incredibly hard to stop thinking, even when you really wanted to.

Especially when you really wanted to.

As they sat on the bus in to the city and watched the unfamiliar landscape roll past, Hermione's treacherous mind kept going back to that terrible day the year before, the last time she'd seen her mother and father.

Over the years, Hermione was slightly ashamed to admit, a wedge had grown between her and her parents; as she grew more and more used to the wizarding world, the Muggle one was fading more into the background and becoming... no, not less important, never less important, but... less her own. Occasionally, Hermione wondered if all Muggle-borns went through the same - but since she had no close friends that were Muggle-born, she didn't have anyone to ask, and she was certain that neither Harry nor Ron would fully understand. Even Harry, who had grown up in the Muggle world, had nothing but bad experiences with it and was happy to leave it completely behind without so much as a second thought.

But for Hermione, it was awful to discover that for each time she returned home for Summer holidays, she felt more uncomfortable and misplaced. Before, she had taken an active interest in news and current events, both local and global, and could converse about them just as well as any adult, but now she found that she had no idea about anything that had happened in the Muggle world while she was off learning magic and helping Harry fight Voldemort. Wizards didn't get Muggle news, and for some reason you couldn't subscribe to The Times or other Muggle newspapers through owl post.

(Sometimes, in her nastier moments, Hermione wondered it the wizarding world intentionally cut Muggle-born children off from their birth society in order to rid them of any "dangerous" Muggle influences.)

Add to the problem that she couldn't really talk openly about everything that happened at Hogwarts, and that tales of how she'd learned to Transfigure hedgehogs into pincushions quickly got old when she wasn't even allowed to demonstrate any magic when she wasn't at Hogwarts.

Her parents listened politely enough, but she could never quite shake this sneaking suspicion that they couldn't understand why she hadn't learned anything about maths or geography or (non-magical) history, and why she had stopped paying attention to the world around her. Honestly, Hermione, aren't they teaching you anything at that school, apart from isolating yourself and ignoring the world? All right, they hadn't actually said that, but it was getting more and more frustrating to talk to them as it got more and more obvious that they no longer lived in the same world.

It wasn't that she hadn't tried. She'd stuck with Muggle Studies for longer than she really wanted, in the hope that it'd teach her more on how to talk to her parents so they'd understand what things were like for her - but since the entire class was built up more or less around "look at the clever Muggles and their ingenious substitutes for magic," that had been a huge disappointment. She'd gone on family trips and honestly tried to enjoy herself Muggle-style and forget all about magic, but matters of pressing importance from the wizarding world kept intruding upon her Muggle life and just served to alienate her further from her family.

She'd kept the threat of Voldemort secret from them for as long as she could. After all, it wasn't as though they could do anything about it, and it would just make them worry needlessly (or even worse, maybe refuse to let her return to Hogwarts) if they knew.

But then the war had started, and the Ministry had sent out pamphlets and official texts with words of warning, and Hogwarts had sent letters to all Muggle parents explaining the situations. Muggle-borns were in danger, their families doubly so, and while the wizarding world preferred to keep Muggle society at an arm's length, most wizards didn't particularly wish death upon Muggles. So warnings were made, token protections placed out for the families most likely to be targeted (the protections were, of course, not strong enough to ward off the more powerful Death Eaters, but this way at least the wizards could tell themselves they were doing something), and the secret had come out.

Hermione's parents had, just as she'd expected, been quite upset with her for not telling them the truth in the first place.

There had been Words.

In the end, she'd won the confrontation with her parents and been allowed back to Hogwarts for her sixth year, but their relationship had been more strained than ever after that. And then...

Oh, God. And then.

"Hermione?" For the second time that day, Ron's voice tore her out of her world of guilt and misery.

"What?" she snapped, and as if waking from a deep trance, suddenly realized that the bus had stopped moving and passengers around her were getting up and moving out. "Oh, sorry," she murmured, taking his offered hand.

The crowd dispersed, and Ron and Hermione found themselves in the bus central station, moving out of the way for the various Muggles who went to retrieve their luggage from the bus's luggage compartment.

There were definite advantages to being magical, Hermione thought, casting a glance at Ron's completely normal-looking backpack. It was small enough that he'd been able to carry it with him on the plane and on the bus alike (with just an extra illusion charm to fool airline security), yet it held all the luggage they'd both packed for the trip. Once upon a time, she might have felt shy about sharing her luggage with a boy, but after all she and Ron had been through together it felt strangely natural.

"G'day, mate," said Ron to the driver, in what he probably thought was an Australian accent, as they turned to leave the bus.

"Ron...!" Hermione hissed, pulling him with her.

"They talk like that!" he insisted. "I've heard 'em!"

Hermione was about to snap at him again - how was it possible that someone who could imitate Parseltongue to near-perfection could be so completely off when it came to plain English? - but then she saw the look in his eyes. "You're just having a go at me, aren't you?" she sighed.

"Well, yeah," said Ron unashamedly. "Thought it might help pull you out of your state."

"I'm not in a state!"

"You are! You've been quiet and unresponsive and... for the love of Merlin's underwear, Hermione!" said Ron. "I'm worried about you, okay? Half the time you act like everything's fine, and then you turn around and withdraw into yourself, getting moody and snappish when I try to talk to you! If I have to make a complete arse of myself in order to get you to snap out of it, then I won't hesitate to do it! I'll, I dunno, get an Australian phrasebook or something and then go around quoting it to random people in the street..."

"I'm fine!" Hermione snapped. "Why won't you believe me when I tell you I'm fine?"

"Because," said Ron, "I'm not blind. But I'm not a Legimliens either. You're gonna have to tell me sooner or later. Please?" He added, trying to smile at her.

For a long moment, she looked at him - and felt herself soften a little as she saw nothing but honest concern and worry. "Fine," she said softly. "You want to know what's wrong? I'm a terrible person, that's what's wrong."

"Oh, go on," said Ron in disbelief.

"It's true. You know why we're here."

"Yeah, we're here to get your parents." Ron looked confused. "How does that make you a terrible person?"

"Because I modified their memories!" Hermione snapped. "They wouldn't do what I told them, so I took their minds and changed them!"

"To keep them safe," said Ron. "That's what you told me."

"Yes, that's what I told myself as well. They didn't know, they didn't understand, I had to do what was best for them. But really... I just did it because I wanted them out of the way."

"Hermione -!"

"What sort of person does that, Ron?" She felt her cheeks grow hot. "What sort of person takes other people's lives in her hands and twists them around for her own convenience? Maybe they're just Muggles who wouldn't be of any help against Voldemort, but they are... they were my parents! They've never been anything but kind and understanding, and how do I repay them? By... by erasing them!"

Ron looked at her in silence for a few moments. Finally, he took her by the hand and guided her over to a conveniently-placed empty bench. "Sit down," he said.

She flopped down on the bench and rested her head in her hands as he sat down next to her, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

"This has been bothering you a long time, hasn't it?" said Ron.

"I have nightmares about it," Hermione murmured. "Well... I have nightmares about a lot of things, but mostly about that. I see them... I see their blank stares, and..." she trailed off, unable to continue the sentence. "You know what the worst part is? All my life, I thought I was a good person."

"You are a good person!"

"That's what I always thought. I prided myself upon the fact that I always did the right thing. I helped those who needed it, I defended the weak, I saw through prejudices and refused to adopt them myself. I crusaded for House-Elf rights, I talked about length of how everyone, wizard or Muggle, human or not, were equals and should be treated like it. All the while patting myself on the back for being such a good girl." She snorted; a hint of a bitter laugh. "And then I go ahead and just wipe my parents off the face of the Earth for being Muggles."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, you're too smart for this kind of thinking!" Ron grabbed her shoulders. "So you've done stuff you're not proud of! You think I haven't done countless things that still makes my ears turn red with shame every time I think about them? Or Harry? Or - or Dumbledore? Remember all those things Aberforth told us about him?"

"That's... that's not the same."

"Damn right it's not the same! Dumbledore did stuff that was much worse than anything you ever did! But in the end, he was still a good person, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but..." Hermione trailed off, uncertain how to continue. She knew exactly why what she had done was worse than anything Harry or Ron or Dumbledore had ever done, but she had to think a little on how to word it.

(It was almost ridiculous; she could count the times in her life when she had been lost for words on one hand, and a subject she had thought such a lot about over the last year - though mostly alone, late at night or when she was feeling upset - really shouldn't have been any trouble at all.)

"Face it, Hermione! You did what you did because you love your parents," said Ron. "You even broke wizarding law, something you always took extremely seriously, in order to get them safely out of the country. All right, it was stupid, you messed up, but we were in a bad situation and you panicked. It happens!"

"I still treated them like lesser beings!" Hermione argued. "All I wanted was to get them out of the way so I wouldn't feel guilty if they died!"

"But you're feeling guilty right now, aren't you?" said Ron.

"No! I mean yes! I mean -" Hermione sputtered, glaring at him. This was so typical of Ron; no other person in the entire world could ever be so infuriatingly logical and so mind-bogglingly stupid at the same time. "You're just - It's impossible to talk to you, you know that? You don't understand anything!"

"I'm not gonna 'understand' that you're a terrible person just because you made a mistake," said Ron.

"Oh, forget it!" said Hermione, raising herself from the bench. Strangely enough, however, she did feel a little better after this talk. If nothing else, Ron's words had given her a clearer resolve. She had done something stupid; now was the time to face up to the consequences. She would go see her parents, she would restore their memories, and then she would beg for their forgiveness. If they refused to give it - and she wouldn't blame them at all if they did - then it was no more than she deserved, and she would return home and live the rest of her life as a witch and never again try to talk to Muggles, because she clearly couldn't trust herself around them.

"All right," she said, turning around and seeing that Ron had risen to his feet as well. "Now we're first going to find the Spinning Billywig and call your mother, because she'll kill us both if we forget that, and afterwards we're going to visit my parents."

And after that, I'm going to lock myself in a room and cry for about a week, she added mentally, envisioning the enraged faces of her parents as they remembered everything and realized what she had done to them.

The Spinning Billywig, according to Percy Weasley, was Perth's biggest wizarding pub and could be described as the city's answer to the Leaky Cauldron - in other words, a natural gathering point for the local wizarding community. It was Percy who had told Ron and Hermione to seek the place out, claiming that those of his colleagues at the Ministry who had been to Perth had spoken very highly of the place.

"You can Fire-call us from there," he'd said. "I gather they have a very extensive international Floo connection. Of course, I'm sure that I could set you up to travel directly to the Billywig by Floo if you'd prefer that. True, international Floo travel generally costs an arm and a leg, not to mention that you need special clearance, but I have a feeling that since it's you..."

Hermione had declined, given her reluctance to use magical means to travel to Australia, but had agreed to at least use the Floo at the Billywig to call back home. So it was to the Billywig Ron and Hermione made their way from the central bus station, finding to their relief that it was easy enough to locate.

Like the Cauldron, the Spinning Billywig was located in a Muggle street between normal Muggle shops and protected by several spells and enchantments to hinder unsuspecting Muggle eyes from noticing it - but very much unlike the Cauldron, the Billywig looked grand and almost imposing even from the outside. A four-story building with large windows, it was immediately noticeable to the eyes of Ron and Hermione, partly because outside it, underneath wide awnings, several people in obvious wizard clothing were seated by outdoors tables, eating, drinking or just chatting with one another.

"Completely barmy, sitting right out in the open," said Ron, though with a definite sense of approval in his voice.

"Many Australian pubs have large verandahs and wide awnings, because of how hot the summers get," said Hermione, quoting one of the many books she had read on Australia. "They're probably under a Muggle-specific Disillusionment Charm or something similar, given the -"

"Hello!" One of the wizards sitting by the outdoors table raised himself and gave Ron and Hermione a friendly wave. "Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, am I right?"

As one, Ron and Hermione stopped. "Yes," said Ron, sounding just about as surprised as Hermione felt. "How'd you -?"

"Been waiting for you," the wizard smiled. "But come in, and we'll talk. Fine sight you'd look to those Muggles, standing there and talking to an abandoned, empty building."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances and stepped in under the awning. While Hermione couldn't see or feel anything change, she realized that they had stepped in under the charm that made them unnoticeable to the Muggles, as the wizard immediately extended his hand and said: "Lester Thompson, Department of International Magical Cooperation. Was told to keep an eye out for you."

"You were?" said Ron, shaking his hand and looking slightly overwhelmed. "Who by?"

"Bloke by the name of Percy Weasley," said Thompson. "Your brother, as I understood it. He contacted my Department on behalf of the British Ministry and asked us to help you out. I managed to nag my superiors into getting the job. Come inside, we got a lot of things to talk about."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, and Hermione saw her own astonishment echoed in Ron's eyes. While it was certainly in Percy's character to make arrangements of this sort, it was sort of unexpected that he wouldn't even have mentioned it to them that he'd been in contact with the Australian Ministry. Maybe he'd just wanted to surprise them, or maybe this was his idea of a prank of some sort. Hermione made a mental note to ask him about it once they got back home, and, linking her arm with Ron's, followed Thompson inside.

The inside of the pub was just as different from the Leaky Cauldron as the outside had been; open and light, with a high ceiling and a grand, impressive-looking bar, where a barmaid was currently in a busy discussion with two young witches (Hermione just caught the words "I don't care if your parents let you have it, underage is underage!"), and several nice-looking tables - most of which were empty, probably because the majority of the clientele preferred sitting outside.

"How're things over in Britain, then?" asked Thompson as he led them through the room. "We get several reports on your status after the war, of course, but they're all, well, official." He pronounced the word in a way that make it clear he was using it as a euphemism for 'sadly incomplete.'

"As well as can be expected, thank you," said Hermione politely. "There's a lot of things to clean up after the war, but we've managed better than we had any right to expect."

"Glad to hear it. Bloody shame that the International Confederation of Wizards didn't get involved before things got out of hand," said Thompson and looked apologetic, "but truth was that international communications were limited due to fear of Death Eaters infiltrating the different Ministries, and for a long time nobody knew exactly what was happening in your part of the world. We were worried sick about you."

"You were?" said Hermione, thinking that this was an odd way to put it. "I didn't realize the Australian Ministry was so, er, emotionally involved in British affairs."

Thompson chuckled. "Oh, I'm not talking about the Australian Ministry," he said. "Though we were certainly glad to hear it when the war was over. No, I'm talking about... hang on, let me show you." They'd reached a door at the very end of the room, one of several where the word 'RESERVED' was written in glowing red letters.

"Er," said Ron, looking a little uncomfortable. "Look, we're kinda in a hurry, so if we could just use your Floo to Fire-call back home, we'll be off."

"Off?" Thompson stopped right in the middle of reaching for the door, turning to look at them. "Well, your call, but I rather think you'll be interested in this. Just a minute!" With that, he reached out and knocked on the door.

A few moments passed. Then the door opened, and a tall figure appeared in the doorway.

Hermione let out a small shriek of surprise that caused the patrons of the pub to turn her way to see what was going on, and Ron grabbed her shoulder, letting out a small gasp, as they found themselves staring at one of the last people any of them had ever expected to suddenly appear in a wizarding pub.

"Daddy?" said Hermione in a small voice.

"Hello, Hermione," said Nathaniel Granger. "Oh, and Ron too. They told me you'd come with her." He was about to say something more, but just then a high-pitched wail emerged from behind him, and then a familiar female voice speaking in a comforting tone. "Shhh, darling, it's not dangerous, it's just Hermione coming to visit."

Hermione felt faint. Her parents were supposed to be normal Muggle dentists, they were supposed to think that their names were Wendell and Monica Wilkins, they weren't supposed to know who Hermione was, and the certainly weren't supposed to be talking soothingly to high-pitched wails that could only be...

"Hi, Nate," said Thompson. "As you can see, they're here."

"Thank you, Lester," said Nathaniel Granger. "We really couldn't have managed without you."

"Aw, think nothing about it." Thompson smiled. "I'll be off getting a Gillywater and letting you get on with your family reunion. By the way, I got that book you wanted to borrow. Come see me afterwards, okay? Nice to meet you," he added to Hermione and Ron before moving off.

Hermione just stared at her father, completely unable to speak, but Ron squeezed her arm comfortingly and said in a surprisingly calm tone: "Hello, Mister Granger. What's going on? We came here to find you, and -"

"-and it proved to be easier than you thought," said Nathaniel. "Come on in, you two. Lester has been kind enough to talk to the staff and reserve this room for us. Your mother's anxious to see you, Hermione... and we have to introduce you to your new sister."

Miranda Emily Granger turned out to be only a couple of months old, a small and skinny baby with a tiny, curious face. She didn't really seem too keen on Hermione when they were introduced, greeting her with small whimpers and a skeptical look on her face as she lay in her mother's arms - but curiously enough, when Ron tried to say hello to her a couple of minutes later, he got a smile and a satisfied gurgle.

Hermione tried not to feel jealous that her baby sister, whom she hadn't even known existed until a few minutes ago, seemed to accept Ron all at once but not her. It was probably a coincidence anyway; Miranda would be too young to be able to tell people apart. But it was curious how Ron seemed to find the tone with her straight away; Hermione had never seen him around small children or babies, and he had never given any inclination that he was particularly fond of them. And now, he was beaming at a two-month-old as if it was the highlight of his day.

"Well, belated congratulations," he said, tearing himself away from the gurgling baby to look at the proud parents. "She's adorable. Gonna be quite the beauty when she grows up, especially if she takes after her sister."

"Ron..." Hermione muttered, halfway pleased and halfway annoyed. "Er, speaking of taking after... Is she, I mean, is she a -"

"Is she a witch?" said Helen Granger, a surprisingly cold edge entering her voice. She had greeted them warmly enough, though she hadn't stood up from her chair and hadn't tried to hug Hermione. (Probably, Hermione told herself, it was because her arms were full of Miranda.) "Is that all you wizards think about - magic?"

Hermione shrank back, the sudden cold edge in her mother's voice cutting into her like a knife, and the words 'you wizards' hitting her hard. "What? No!" she sputtered. "Of course it isn't! I didn't mean it that way, I just - "

"Hey, lay off her, will you?" said Ron, looking at Helen. "It was just a question!"

"Don't worry about it, Ron," said Nathaniel, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. Unlike her, he had hugged Hermione and told her how glad he was to see her again, though he had refused to elaborate on how he knew who she was until he had introduced his new daughter. "We were wondering the same thing when Miranda was born. But I'm going to have to disappoint you, Hermione."

"O-oh?"

"Your sister is not a witch. There's no magic in her at all."

"Oh..."

"You know that for certain?" said Ron.

Nathaniel nodded. "There are a few simple, magical tests you can run on a newborn child to find out if she's going to be magical or not. They're not very commonly used because they have to be performed before the child is seven days old, and most wizards automatically assume their baby is magical, while most Muggles wouldn't even know to check... but you have rare cases like ours. And, of course, there are, or at least were, several Pure-blooded families who insisted on performing the tests because they were deathly afraid of producing Squibs..."

"Dad!" Hermione felt like screaming, but managed to keep her voice low enough to not frighten Miranda. "How do you know all this? You're a Muggle! You shouldn't even know what a Squib is! You shouldn't even know who I am!" Her voice almost broke into a sob. "I modified your memories! I made you forget who you are, and I sent you to Australia! I've felt so horrible about it!"

Ron wordlessly wrapped his arms around her and hugged her as she struggled to hold back her sobs.

Nathaniel Granger looked at them, and sighed. He didn't try to come over to them (for which Hermione was grateful; if he'd tried to hug her now she would really have started crying), and his voice was soft as he said: "Hermione... that spell you placed upon us only lasted for a few days."

"What?" said Hermione.

"You're good," said her father. "But you're not that good. Altered memories are very tricky, and you have to be very meticulous in order to cover up any inconsistencies, especially when you place your subjects in a situation that would necessarily contain a lot of reminders of the past life."

Hermione swallowed as it hit her: Of course. She had added a compulsion for her parents to move to Australia. Moving would mean that they needed to go through all their possessions. Anything they couldn't or wouldn't take with them, they would have to throw away, give away, or sell away, and even though Hermione had made sure to remove most of her personal belongings from their house, there would probably still be a lot of things she had missed; small things that would serve as a reminder of the daughter her parents weren't supposed to remember.

How could she have been so stupid? She'd been certain she had covered her tracks so well, that her parents would just travel to Australia in happy ignorance, safe from the Death Eaters. It was only now she realized how arrogant, how foolish, she'd been. Of course it hadn't worked as well as she'd thought it would - she'd had no experience with Memory Charms or any of the other ways of modifying people's memories.

"So you knew... all along, you knew..." She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"It might surprise you," said her mother, holding Miranda tight, "that even though we're not magical, we are not idiots."

"I didn't think you were... idiots..." Hermione muttered, feeling doubly guilty because she had been feeling guilty about treating her parents like idiots.

"Of course you thought we were idiots," said her father. "All teenagers think their parents are idiots. Of course, not all teenagers find such a... drastic way to express that."

They would have tortured you, they would have forced you to drink Veritaserum in the hope of finding me or Harry, they would have killed you just for having produced a Mudblood. The words all died on Hermione's lips, because however good arguments they had once been, they had lost power over the year and now couldn't even take the edge of the guilt she felt.

"What should she have done?" said Ron defensively. "You don't seem to understand! There were Death Eaters, you were targets, they would have killed you..."

"We do understand, Ron," said Nathaniel. "We know Hermione only wanted to protect us... even if this wasn't really a very good way of doing it," he added, a little more sternly.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione managed to croak.

"I know," said Nathaniel.

An uncomfortable silence followed, which was thankfully broken a few moments later when Miranda began to fuss and demand attention. Helen began tending to her, and the others relaxed a little. Somehow, uncomfortable silences were hard to keep up with a crying baby in the room.

"So what are you doing in Australia?" said Ron finally. "If you knew all along..."

"The tickets were already booked, the journey arranged, our house out for sale," said Nathaniel. "You never did anything halfway, Hermione."

Hermione again tried swallowing the lump in her throat, but failed.

"Besides, after a bit of discussion, we decided that our best option was to go along with it," Nathaniel continued. "If we were in so much danger that you would do something like that to us... Besides, you had already vanished. We knew no detective would be able to track you down, since your magic would give you too much of an advantage, and we weren't about to trust any wizards, especially not British wizards, with finding you, if your Voldemort was taking over the wizarding community."

"So... you weren't angry with me?" said Hermione in a small voice.

"We were furious with you. Changing our lives against our will like that? Of course we were angry."

"You could have found a better way," said Helen, looking away from Miranda for a moment. "It was cruel, making us forget you like that."

"I know..." Hermione murmured.

"But you're still our daughter," Helen said. "And even if you weren't going to trust our judgment, we were going to trust yours... at least in this instance."

"Luckily, we'd learned enough about wizards and the wizard community to know how to seek out the Australian Ministry for Magic when we arrived here," said Nathaniel. "Most of them weren't all that friendly, and wanted to just erase our memories and send us on our way, but we managed to convince them that as the parents of a certified witch, we were exempt from the Statute of Secrecy. We even quoted the paragraphs of the law that states that Muggles who are of immediate family to a witch or wizard are to be allowed knowledge of and aid within the wizarding world as long as they don't prove to be a threat to the continued concealment of wizards to the Muggle public at large."

"Bloody hell!" said Ron, looking impressed. "How'd you know all that?"

Nathaniel gave him an odd look. "Hermione told us, of course. She'd tell us all kinds of things about wizards and wizarding laws. We've had books and everything... not to mention, your father was all too happy to tell us everything we wanted to know, when he could be persuaded to stop asking questions about us."

Hermione was dumbstruck. Here she'd thought that her parents hadn't understood the wizarding world, that they'd only been polite in listening to her tales about things they couldn't get confirmed, and it turned out that they had understood more than she'd ever given them credit for. I'll never underestimate them ever again, she thought to herself as her father continued his story:

Even after the Grangers had managed to convince the Australian Ministry to help them out, it turned out that the actual help they could receive was limited. All the Australian wizards could say for sure was that there were rumors that a Dark Lord had taken over the British Ministry and that Hermione Granger was missing, presumed on the run either together with her parents or with Harry Potter.

Luckily, they had made friends with Lester Thompson, a sympathetic young Muggle-born who worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and though he hadn't been able to find out any more than the others, he had taken a lot of time out to help them in other ways. He'd pulled a few strings with friends and acquaintances at the Ministry to arrange for them to be allowed in the Spinning Billywig, he'd lent them several books on wizarding history, on Harry Potter and the Dark Lord, so that they would at least be better informed about the world their daughter was in.

When Helen a few months into their stay in Australia had discovered that she was pregnant, and they had immediately began worrying if their new child would be magical or not, it had been Thompson who had informed them about the magical test they could take, and after Miranda was born, he had arranged for a session with a discreet Healer.

"He's been a godsend," said Helen softly. "He was very disappointed when Miranda turned out not to be magical, but other than that, he's been one of the few wizards we've met who treated Muggles like real people."

"We do treat Muggles like real people!" Ron protested. "There are bastards like the Malfoys, you've met them, they think that pure wizard blood is all that matters, but we're not all like that -"

Helen gave him a long look. "I'm not saying you're all like that," she said. "But from what I've experienced of the wizarding world, you treat us like ignorant children at best, and as nuisances at worst."

"We do not!" said Ron.

"Yes, we do," said Hermione. "We don't mean it, but we still do. We can't help but look down on Muggles because they're not like us. And as long as wizards think like that, there'll always be some who take it too far, and then we get blood supremacists and then we get Dark Lords. And we get people like me, who want to help but end up just making things worse..."

"You didn't make it worse," said Ron. "If your parents had stayed in England, they would have been attacked by Death Eaters..."

"We don't know that."

"Is this really something you wanted to gamble with?"

"Hermione." Helen Granger looked directly at her daughter, cutting off the reply she was going to give to Ron. The cold edge had mostly vanished from her voice, but her eyes still held a bit of hurt - it was obvious that of Hermione's parents, her mother had been the one who had reacted the worst to having her memories modified. "I'll still hold that your actions were needlessly cruel and that you showed no respect for us as humans when you did it. But you did only want the best for us... so I forgive you."

"Mum..." Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes.

"Besides... I know you. You'll never forgive yourself for it. You've probably already punished yourself over it ten times harsher than I would ever have done."

"She has," Ron muttered.

"But if you ever do anything like that again, to me or your father, or - God help me - to Miranda, then you'd better hope that one of those Dark Lords of yours get to you first. We are your family, and we deserve to be treated like it."

"Yes, Mum." Hermione blinked away her tears and didn't know whether to feel relieved or not.

"All right," said Helen, and now her expression softened in earnest. "Then we'll say no more about it. I've missed you, honey. Give us a hug."

And Hermione let herself go, wrapping her arms around her mother and her baby sister, and sobbing loudly in pure relief.

They ended up staying in the room for several hours, long enough for Miranda to fall asleep and be put down in a hastily-conjured crib, because Hermione's parents insisted on being told everything that had happened. They'd heard the news about Voldemort's final defeat, of course - but, like Lester Thompson had said, they hadn't gotten as many actual details of the situation as they would have liked.

Most of the story about the Horcrux hunt, they hadn't heard at all, and though Hermione glossed over certain details, there was still more than enough left to surprise and horrify them.

"Well," said Nathaniel after the story was over. "You've certainly had a busy year. I'm sorry about your brother, Ron."

"Yeah..." said Ron with a sigh. "That was partly why we didn't come before. We had to be there for the funeral. Fred was... well."

"I am glad you did come," said Helen. "I'm sorry for what I said about wizards. In truth, there's no-one I'd rather entrust Hermione to than you and your family."

Ron's ears turned pink. "Thanks," he muttered.

"So what are you planning to do now?" said Nathaniel, smiling a little at Ron's embarrassment,

"I'm returning to Hogwarts when Autumn comes," said Hermione. "Headmistress McGonagall has given it her okay. I want to finish my education before I do anything else."

"I'm not really sure what I'm gonna do," said Ron. "The Ministry has offered everyone who fought at the Battle of Hogwarts a job as trainee Aurors, even if they didn't have the required NEWTs. Harry's accepted it... he wanted me to do it too, but... it's not that I don't want to, but my family needs me too. Was thinking of helping George with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for a while, at least until he's back on his feet." He shook his head and turned to the Grangers. "What about you? You're coming back to England, right?"

Nathaniel and Helen exchanged glances and then looked at both Ron and Hermione. "No," said Helen. "I don't think we are."

"But - " Ron sputtered. "I thought you forgave Hermione!"

"This isn't about forgiveness," said Nathaniel. "It's about what's practical. We've started a new life here in Australia, and we like the country. I think Miranda will be very happy growing up here. Besides..." he added a little dryly, "here she's not as likely to become the 'poor Muggle sister of the famous Hermione Granger' as she would have been in England."

"We've decided to stay in touch with the wizarding community," said Helen. "Lester has introduced us to his parents, and a few other parents of Muggle-borns witches and wizards. It's amazing how good it feels to be able to talk to others who have been in the same situation."

"We've been thinking of making an official support group," said Nathaniel. "A few people at the Ministry have halfway promised that they'll try to help. Every year, there are more parents who find out that their sons and daughters are magical, and we'd like to offer them someone to talk to, someone who will understand what they're going through."

"That's... not a bad idea," said Hermione. She swallowed heavily and looked over at her sleeping baby sister. It felt strange to think about - her baby sister. She had always been an only child, had secretly envied Ron his many siblings, and all of a sudden she herself had a sibling, a tiny little girl who was her sister... but a sister who would never be accepted into Hogwarts, or any other magical school. She would never learn magic, never know what it was like to fly on a broomstick or Transfigure a teacup into a rat.

And she'll never be told that this makes her less worthy as a human being either, Hermione decided. She'll never be made to feel that she's stupid or unimportant just because she's a Muggle. I'll never make that mistake again, and I'll do everything I can to make sure that nobody else makes it either.

She felt a warm hand grab hers, and turned to smile at Ron, drawing him in for a kiss.

"Finally," she heard her father mutter from somewhere far away. "I thought you'd never admit to that part."

Ron looked like he was going to pull away from the kiss, but he didn't. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight, holding her close. She relaxed against him, wanting to deepen the kiss and letting her hands explore him a little more, but since they were still in front of her parents, she didn't give in to her urges.

Things weren't going to be the same, she knew. Her parents would stay in Australia, which would mean she'd see even less of them than she had for the last seven years. She would be living in the wizarding world full-time now, and for a year she'd be separated from Ron, who wasn't going to return to Hogwarts with her. And unless she was careful, she would completely miss her sister growing up, ending up as a complete stranger to her.

But then again... she knew she had Ron now. She knew he would be there with her for everything, and she knew that her parents understood. She wouldn't have to lie to them anymore or worry that they didn't approve or understand her life as a witch. While the guilt of what she had done was still there, it was a lot more manageable now, because she knew she had a chance to set it right.

And, for the first time in ages, Hermione Granger felt good about herself.

At least until she realized that they had completely forgotten to call Ron's parents and that Molly Weasley would probably kill them for letting her worry for several hours more than she needed to.

But nothing's perfect.

THE END!

Author's Notes: J. K. Rowling said in an interview that she had originally planned giving Hermione a younger sister who was a Muggle, but changed her mind... so Miranda Granger is at least inspired by the original author. As for why I named her "Miranda" - well, it's a Shakespearian name, just like "Hermione" is. Likewise, "Helen" and "Nathaniel" are taken from Shakespeare (I know a lot of fanfics have named Hermione's mother "Jane" or "Jean" in honor of Hermione's middle name, but somehow that didn't strike me as right).

This story was born out of two desires - one, a desire to write a story where Ron played a key role (I haven't really given him a lot of attention in my stories, and he's maltreated by so much of the fandom) and a wish to look a little closer at wizard/Muggle relations and especially how they affected Hermione and her parents. Personally, I feel it's staggering how callous most wizards are towards Muggles in canon - even wizards who are largely sympathetic often show a silent (though probably mostly subconscious) contempt, or at least disrespect, for anyone who isn't magic - or isn't magic enough. Even Hermione sometimes seems to subscribe to this view, though she obviously doesn't do it consciously and would be more than horrified to discover that part of herself... which was what this story ended up being about.

So what happens next? Well, this particular story is over, but I am kicking around ideas for a longer Harry Potter story taking place in the same continuity, with even more exploration of the wizard/Muggle relations. It'll probably be some time in coming, but rest assured... the last word has not been said.