The Gold Puppet

Disclaimer: Still don't believe us? *sighs* Well, we are not Rowling and we therefore don't own anything Potter-related, including *heavy sigh* the money. No, we get nothing from posting this online, well ... hopefully some reviews *bats eyelashes* but no monetary gains.

A/N: we want to thank everyone for reading, rating, fav-ing, alerting and reviewing. No, we are not review junkies ... *stop kidding themselves* ... we are addicts, we have a problem. See we took a first step, now lets take several steps back and help supply us, you review-dealers, thank you: sbrande, Lady Miya, Fleur K., JaceDamian23, risotto.

risotto: Tsk, tsk, tsk. Trying to avoid our cliffies by reading two chapters in a row. *shakes head* That’s so evil of you. XD Oh, well, you’ll probably have to wait a while longer before the “talk” will happen. *snnrkkss* Thank you for both reviews.

Fleur K.: We’re glad you enjoyed the story so much to keep reading on. Thanks.

sbrande: Well, our Lord agrees with you one-hundred percent. He should rule the Wizarding World and destroy Prophecy Boy once and for all, AND keep Hermione with him, naturally. We hope you will enjoy this chapter also. Thank you for the kind review.

And thanks to JaceDamian23 and Lady Miya who got our reply on FFnet already. Too bad you can’t PM or reply here. *shrugs*

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The Gold Puppet

Chapter 17

"They need to be taken somewhere more familiar to their real memories," Tom said softly in her ear, sitting sideways on the back of the couch she sat on, while rubbing with his hands over her upper arms in a gesture of comfort.

Hermione held her distraught mother in her arms, who had started to cling to her and wouldn't let go since Hermione was the only thing in Monica's swirling memory, that she trusted and recalled fully. Her father, on the other hand, was fast asleep on the nearby sofa, because "Seth" had spiked his drink with a highly concentrated Calming Draught when Hermione looked away for a second.

Really, one hysterical Muggle was more than enough in his book.

"It will assist the reversal process if they are in their old environment ... if you insist on keeping them awake," he added, whispering.

She tilted her head and looked back up at him. "How much longer?" she asked, concerned. "This is torture to them."

A torture that could have been fun if he'd had the chance to revel in the stupid Muggles' pain, but alas, he had to be ... understanding, and ... helpful, and ... kind, and ... well, Seth MacDougal.

He squeezed her shoulders and gave her a sympathetic expression. "The time it takes the potion to reverse the process completely depends on several factors."

"Stop beating around the bush and just tell me like it is."

Tom's face turned expressionless. Just when she was about to scream at him, he raised his hand, causing her mouth the snap shut. Swiftly, he rose, walked around the couch, untangled her from her mother, and pulled Hermione with him, away from the scene.

"Hermione?" Monica whispered, grabbing her arm frightened.

"I'll be right back, Mum," she said soothingly, patting her hand. "I need to talk to Seth for a moment."

"Don't leave me again," Monica added panicky, tightening her grip.

A flash of red struck her in the chest and Monica Granger slumped down on the couch, unconscious. Hermione swirled around to Tom furiously.

"Don't you curse my mother," she hissed.

"I wouldn't have to if you stopped being so damn daft in thinking you can do this all alone," he hissed back, grabbing both her arms abruptly and shaking her. "The time it takes for them to regain their full memory depends on the amount of memory loss, the importance of the memory (both emotionally and intellectually), and the power of the caster of the charm. In your case, all three variables have taken the most ..." he quieted, watching her seriously. "You're a powerful witch, Hermione. Their recovery will take time and it will be hard on them during the periods when memories mix and they can't distinguish between reality and the illusion you painted in their minds. I really do not recommend keeping them awake for it all. They will need constant supervision and ..."

"But I need to leave for Hogwarts in three days' time! I ... I ..." Hermione exclaimed, clenching her hands into fists out of frustration.

"I know that, Hermione, which was why I suggested not letting them stay awake during the process," he replied calmly.

"I can't. You've said yourself that there's a chance that they'll never wake up if I choose to let them take the Draught of Living Death first—" she took a deep breath and shut her eyes firmly, struggling with herself and her decision.

"There's only a five percent chance of that happening," Tom objected.

"But there still is that chance," Hermione growled, opening her eyes again and glaring at him as if he was being difficult on purpose. "Would you've taken that risk if they'd been your parents?" she asked harshly. "No, so neither will I. I'll just have to talk to McGonagall and ... and ..."

"No," he snapped. "You will go to Hogwarts and finish your education as your parents would want you to." He paused for a second, his face still expressionless as he presumably thought of the different options they had. "What if we take them back to England with us, and instead of the draught, I'll use a Sleeping Charm on them at precise intervals?" Tom suggested helpfully.

She blinked and stared at him.

"Well?" he asked impatiently when she remained silent.

"But-but you'd have to repeat it every three hours," she said, stunned. "That's eight times a day."

Four, actually, if you used the modified charm, which doubled the duration of the effect. But it was very beneficial to his goals if she was under the impression she owed him even more. And to be fair, she would owe him big time ... he was babysitting Muggles for her. Ugh. So, he didn't correct her assumption, but merely shrugged instead.

Hermione shook her head. "No, these are my parents. I—I can't ask that of you."

"You're not asking, I am offering," he interrupted, because he could tell she was going to add more objections to her list.

"I know," she said, sending him a broad, grateful smile, "but it's too much. I've only known you..."

She quieted when he cupped her face gently.

"...for such a short time," he finished, grinning. "It feels so much longer, doesn't it?"

He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"Like we are ... soul-mates," he sniggered internally at his pun, but outward he showed nothing of the kind. He merely gazed at her intensely, playing with a lock of her hair, while he continued in a low, seductive voice, "like we are meant to be together. I don't mind doing this for you, Hermione. I really don't. It's not that much to ask. I know how to perform the modified Sleeping Charm, so it's four times a day not eight. And we can get help. I can afford it."

He smirked when she bristled at that. It was obvious to him from the luxurious house the Wilkins inhabited that she wouldn't need any financial support from him; but it was so much fun to rub her feathers the wrong way, he just couldn't resist it.

"I'll be paying for any help tha—"

He silenced her by placing his finger on her lips and chuckled. "I won't need any help. I have a perfectly fine guestroom in my flat. They—"

"But—" she tried.

"No buts," he interrupted her quickly. "They are most welcome, Hermione. I don't have any family left that needs to stay over ..." he trailed off, an appropriate saddened expression washed over his features, before he shook himself as if clearing the dreadful thoughts away, and continuing, "I've a double bed there and if we keep them asleep, this solution will be the most convenient one for all involved."

Her face still showed hints of doubt, but he was getting there, he could tell. Just one little nudge, it was all she needed.

"We can create a Portkey to my flat, so you can visit them," me, "whenever you need," whenever I allow it. "I am sure Professor McGonagall," who would get exactly what she deserved some day, "won't mind creating you a Portkey back to Hogwarts if you explain the circumstances to her."

Of course he wouldn't need Minnie to make a Portkey to Hogwarts for him, but that was not information he could share with Hermione yet.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, still uncertain.

"Yes," he replied firmly, placing his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from hexing or throttling her.

She sighed and finally nodded.

He studied her face for a few minutes before he said, "We would need to take them there by plane. They're not in the right conditions for Apparition."

She nodded again in agreement.

"I'll contact a travel agency—" Hermione began to say.

"There's no need for that," he interrupted. She stared at him. "I have an ... acquaintance working as a travel agent. He could arrange tickets for us."

What she didn't need to know, of course, was the fact that the "acquaintance" was actually a Death Eater. No, Muggles were like a bunch of ants, and enough of them could be enough to tackle a wizard with a wand—especially when some of his Death Eaters weren't exactly the smartest cookies in the world or the best duellers. No, he knew that he must have some of his Death Eaters pretending to be normal Muggles until the day came when he could take over the Muggle world.

"Oh," Hermione answered, not knowing how to respond to that. "Then, perhaps I should give you the money—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione," he reprimanded.

The thought of his Death Eater attempting to get money from him, their master, for airplane tickets did thoroughly amuse him though.

"But that's ... that's ridiculous. I can't just ..." Hermione stuttered, her face red from irritation.

"Hermione," Tom stopped her in her upcoming rant. "Let's just say that it's an early Christmas present if you're so concerned about 'taking something' from me."

Her eyebrows were still furrowed, very much annoyed with the situation.

"And then," he pulled her body close to his and ran his hands suggestively over the side of her body, "you can give me an early Christmas present, too."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise before her expression turned to amusement.

"Oh, you really are incorrigible," she chided. And then she doubled up in laughter.

---

The morning, when Hermione had to go to Hogwarts, arrived far too quickly in Tom's eyes. He'd got used to having her in his bed next to him, enjoying the feel of her body against his. First, in "his friend's house" in Australia and later in his flat, though, that had taken some doing with the cup. Just to be on the safe side, he had taken it to a secure location elsewhere and made sure to keep the Horcrux mentally connected to him, so he would know the instant it would try to reach out to her real life self.

However, the cup hadn't been too much trouble lately. It hadn't taken advantage of the situation to chat him to death in his mind. No, it was actually very accommodating, handing him all kinds of interesting and incredibly enjoyable suggestions on how to deal with Potter. He wondered why that was...

As his suspicions rose about her Horcrux's motives, he watched how Hermione held on to her mother's hand, trying his best to not roll his eyes or sigh out of relief. Honestly, he wondered if it had something to do with having been in Australia, or simply because she had been in the Muggle community for far too long. Hermione had been absolutely impossible with her parents' situation back there. She was very, very lucky that he was pretending to be Seth MacDougal at that moment or he would've shown her who was the one in charge of the situation.

And to ask him if he would've taken the risk had they been his parents. He nearly snorted right then and there. Then again, she had been right. He wouldn't have taken the risk, because eternal sleep would've been an easy way out for his dearest father. Thinking in retrospect, perhaps he should've held off on the Killing Curse when he arrived at the Riddle's place, and spent some time torturing his father and his grandparents—the nerve of those stupid Muggles for giving birth to his filthy, Muggle father. That would've been satisfying. But he would've had to risk the chance of getting seen by other Muggles, and that was certainly something he could not allow to have happened back then.

Looking at the way Hermione was adjusting the blankets and making sure both of her parents were comfortable in their sleep in his guest bedroom, it was clear to Tom that he had been right—love, such an annoying, useless emotion. Although what it entailed delighted Tom thoroughly. He couldn't wait to "inform" the cup that her parents were officially in his hands after her real life self had entrusted him so kindly with her parents' safety.

Everything was working out smoothly indeed.

Hermione suddenly glanced at him and gave him a smile. An expression of understanding and caring immediately slid onto his face.

As quietly as she could, she walked out of the room with Tom trailing slightly behind her. Once the door was closed, she faced him again.

"Are you sure it's alright, taking care of my parents for me while I'm away at Hogwarts? I mean ... it is my responsibility after all, and it doesn't feel right, putting the entire burden on you ..." she said hesitantly.

Her words made him want to hex her—or better yet, hex those two Muggles inside, because they were too much trouble for a waste of oxygen and space. Hadn't he already told her at least a dozen times already that he was going to take care of them for her? What more did she want to hear for crying out loud?

"I will contact you immediately if the need arrives," he promised, knowing the only need he'd take under consideration would be his.

Suddenly, she took a hold of his shirt and yanked him to her. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him to her tightly.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me," she said gratefully.

Awkwardly, he stood there, his arms bungling at his side in midair, suddenly not knowing what to do with them, while that little witch cuddled against his chest.

"Really, no one else has ever cared about my parents' fate before," she said, looking up fondly. "They always took it for granted that I would be there for them instead of going to see my family. And you—you just ..." She seemed lost for words.

It was such an uncommon and endearing event that he smiled down at her. Tom wrapped his arm around her waist, and with his other hand, he stroked a stray curl out of her face in a caring gesture before enclosing her shoulders, holding her possessively to him. No one would touch or destroy his witch, ever. No harm should be done to her. She was to remain whole and powerful, his personal little Mudblood Gryffindor.

"Your parents will be fine, Hermione," he said soothingly. "You have my word on that."

It slipped out of his mouth before he realised what he had said. The moment the sentence left his lips, he wanted to take it back and his breath stuck in his throat. But it was too late. He could already feel the magic swirl through the air, accompanying his promise.

"See," she said, rising on tiptoes to kiss him on his lips, "this is exactly what I meant. You are constantly anticipating my needs. You are so sweet."

Before he was able to curse her for calling him, Lord Voldemort, sweet, her mouth was on his and she kissed him passionately.

Oh well, perhaps he could ignore it, just this once. Nobody had heard it anyway, and he wasn't advertising with it.

Her hands caressed his body pleasantly. And suddenly, she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, making him stumble to hold his balance. Hermione giggled at his expression, as she leaned on his shoulders with her upper arms, resting her forehead against his.

"How will I reward you for your services?" she breathed against his mouth, nibbling on his upper lip.

His eyes darkened, and he swirled them around, pushing her up against the nearest wall. "I may have a few suggestions," he purred, rubbing his body against hers.

She snorted, nodding her head to her Hogwarts trunk near his frontdoor. "I do have a train to catch and I need to speak to Harry ... and go to St. Mungo's to thank Healer Lewis. It would be rude to just leave without saying anything."

"Such a busy schedule," he teased. "I do trust I come first in it," he added darkly, his fingers trailing over the outside of her thighs underneath her bundled up skirt.

"Ermmm..." Hermione teased back, her pupils darting up as if she had to give it some serious thought.

Tom squeezed her buttocks and she giggled in response.

"Since we can't have you be rude to ... Healer Lewis," he smirked, "we'd have to be quick."

"Somehow, this doesn't seem like a fair trade to you," Hermione whispered, kissing underneath his ear at that sensitive spot when she'd finished speaking.

"Life isn't fair," he grumbled, yanking her knickers away, causing her to let out a high yelp in surprise.

"Maybe ... but, I try to be," she countered, glancing down shortly at the ragged remains of her underwear. Tilting her head, she looked at him considering and ... unzipped his pants slowly. "Sure you can't think of something else you'd rather have as a reward than a quickie?"

He froze, staring into her luscious eyes. Anticipation rose when the duration of their intense eye contact lengthened—silence before the storm.

"The first Prefects carriage, three p.m. sharp, make sure it's empty and bolted," he ordered authoratively.

Her eyebrows rose. "How will you get on a moving train?" she questioned teasingly.

"Deliberation, Determination, and Destination," he replied smugly.

"Don't lose any ... vital body parts underway," she jested.

Tom scowled, making her snigger.

So, he lowered her to her feet abruptly and stepped away, zipping his pants back up with a smirk, while his eyes darted to the remains of her underwear on the floor with clear devious satisfaction. Hermione sighed, shaking her head and passing him to open her Hogwarts trunk and get a clean pair. Abruptly, he yanked her back by her collar against his body and wrapped his arm around her waist.

Placing his mouth next to her ear, he whispered in a low, dark voice, "You won't be needing those today, dear."

"Now you are pushing it," Hermione countered breathlessly. "How am I supposed to reprimand twelve-year-olds when I am not wearing any knickers?"

"Why, Granger," Tom replied, amused, "were you planning on showing them your knickers?"

She scowled. "Very funny, MacDougal."

It was his turn to snigger. "I thought not," he deduced with a happy, casual, upward lilt, "so you can go without easily. I'll be seeing you at three p.m., my naughty little Head Girl." He summoned her trunk into her hands and smacked her on her behind playfully. "Off you go."

Hermione turned her head to him and smirked. "I am so going to get you back for this."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he chided. "That's not a nice thing to say to someone who handed you a Portkey to his place and is taking excellent care of your parents for you."

"Maybe I am not a nice person," Hermione replied with a wink. "Try not to Splinch your underwear or anything you value more at three p.m."

She Apparated away before he had a shot to reprimand her for her bold suggestion of him failing at anything magic-related. However, he'd get back at her this afternoon on the train. Oh, how he would get even with Hermione Granger.

---

Heaving a sigh, Ron left his sister's room. He had no idea if there was any point to his visits. She was just laying there, totally unresponsive. But when Molly Weasley told you to go, you went. And he wasn't exactly his mother's most favourite person at the moment, ever since she'd found out Hermione had left to go meet her Obliviated parents all alone. Everything was his fault these days: Hermione leaving, Harry being upset and silent, Ginny's side-effects, breakfast burning to crisp on the stove, Lavender stopping by every now and then and calling him Won-Won again.

It was so unfair.

A door swung open and Ron narrowed his eyes at the corpulent male that came out of the chamber, shook the hand of a patient, walked happily to the nurses' counter, and started an animated conversation there with Lorraine.

The best Healer possible, Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust and snorted. Incompetent wanker. Taking George's money and snogging my girlfriend, he could do expertly, but heal my sister ...

He clenched his fists briefly before pacing to the counter. He'd tell that overpriced charlatan exactly what he thought of him.

The Healer turned around just when Ron was about to tap on his shoulder. "Mr. Weasley," Lewis said with a polite smile, his eyes flickering over Ron's angry posture, "what can I help you with?"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "You want to help me?" he replied, restrained.

"Of course," Lewis said, deliberately amiable upon noticing it made the redhead's temper rise. "It can be ... hard, having to deal with loss and situations beyond your control."

Did he just suggest something about Hermione and me?

"And I am not just here to treat the patient; her environment, her family and ... friends are also very important to take under consideration."

Ron hardly heard the rest of the man's words. Oh yeah, he knew how much Lewis took Ginny's friends under "consideration". Jerk.

"—heal your sister," Lewis ended, sending him another irritating, understanding, phoney caring expression.

"Yes, I am sure Hermione will be very necessary for Ginny's healing process," Ron snarled.

Lewis sighed. "Mr. Weasley, we discussed this before. It's not good for your sister to see Hermione Granger until she's ready for that. We don't want her to relapse now, do we?"

"Yeah, I know all about how bad it is for Ginny to see Hermione, so really, explain this to me then—why is she here all the time?"

Lewis's face turned blank in a second. "I am afraid I can't go into details—"

"Oh just give me a general overview," Ron interrupted bluntly. "I am sure it won't be too hard to explain what you're doing with Hermione in your office every time."

"You really need to speak to Miss Granger about this, Mr. Weasley," Lewis said, shuffling uncomfortable on his feet, while sniggering on the inside. "If you have any questions on Ginny's treatment or if I can assist you in any other capacity, I will, but I can't help your enquiry about Miss Granger's ... activities."

Why, did that man just smirk at me mockingly?

Ron clenched his fist and swung it around. With a most satisfying crack, it impacted on Lewis's face. The Healer stumbled backwards, his hands covering his face, while several shocked cries came all around him, but not nearly as shocked as the one coming from a familiar voice.

"Ronald!" Hermione yelled, running to the Healer who'd falling against the counter, still clutching to his face. "Are you insane?"

Harry stood a few paces away from Hermione, staring at Ron with his jaws open.

"Do you know what you are doing? This Healer ... this wizard is helping Ginny! And this is the way you repay him?" Hermione screeched, standing next to Healer Lewis with one hand on his back while she glared at Ron.

"I am fine," Healer Lewis said, waving away the help. "It's nothing."

Ron kept his eyes on Healer Lewis, as if he was trying to stab holes into him with his eyes.

"I am truly disappointed in you, Ronald," Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowed. "I can overlook ... things you've done before, but to attack someone who deserves your gratitude more than anything ... this is an outrage."

"An outrage—an outrage," Ron repeated furiously. "And you can overlook things, you! Am I supposed to be grateful for how he was helping you?"

Hermione turned red with fury. Had he been spying on her? Really, things couldn't get any worse than they were already. Before she left for Australia, before she found him fucking that whore in an alley, he'd been a prick for weeks, totally neglecting and trampling all over her feelings and emotions, so she couldn't talk about them to him but had to go seek professional help. And now, she had to learn he'd obviously been following her around during that time. That was the icing on the cake.

She removed her hand from Lewis and stepped to Ron. "Not that it is any of your business, Ronald Weasley, because you mean very little to me at the moment," she said snidely, pricking him in the chest. "But yes, I've been seeing him to get over everything that happened last year. In case you've forgotten already, I've witnessed some pretty nasty things and not all of us had the luxury to run home to their mummies whenever we felt like it."

"Don't you dare say that to me again," Ron hissed.

"I haven't even said it once," Hermione hissed back, her eyes ablaze. "I've kept how much it hurt me when you left us alone all to myself. And I don't see why I should anymore. You have no restraint in hurting others," she looked back at Lewis, whose eye was now being healed by Harry, "not even those who try to be there for you; but here we all dance around your feeble insecurities."

"I am not weak!" Ron shouted, angry she brought it up again. "You know perfectly well it was Riddle who manipulated me into leaving. The moment I was away from that stupid locket I tried to get back to you. And don't pretend like you didn't want to leave, too. You just had nowhere to go, otherwise you'd have left Harry, too."

Hermione stepped back, a look of shock on her face, while she trembled slightly at the memory of her parents' current condition.

"You really don't know the first thing about me, do you, Ronald Bilius Weasley?" she whispered, appalled by his words and distressed about how wrong she'd been in thinking he was her friend. He obviously had no idea who she was.

"I would never have left Harry, no matter what. Even Riddle's Horcrux knew it, because he never tried that on me. He had other nice things to say to me. But I didn't let him win. I knew what he was trying to do. I knew he tried to drive a wedge between the three of us, make us doubt each other. We all knew he'd do that. It's his M.O. But instead of fighting his suggestions, you let him win. You left." She paused and tilted her head. "Coward," she added coldly.

Ron had never drawn his wand this fast before. Lewis let out a warning shout. Harry swirled around, his wand raised, "Protego!"

And Ron's curse crashed into the silvery shield surrounding Hermione before she could blink. The force of it tossed her through the air and she smashed against the wall violently. Silence fell around them. Ron froze and blinked, clutching to his wand in shock, suddenly realising what he'd just done, while Harry kept his wand raised and pointed at him, stepping between Hermione and Ron protectively.

Lewis ran to the dazed Hermione, who was groaning and clutching to the back of her head. He squatted down and pushed her head between her knees, removing her hand so he could investigate if there was any damage. His wand swirled and the crack in her skull healed instantaneously.

"Better?" his Texan drawl asked softly, breaking the prolonged silence.

Hermione nodded carefully, her hands against her forehead now. Lewis's hand slid to her neck, massaging the bones of her spine.

"Try to remain motionless for a while longer, your brain took quite a hit against that wall. Wait for the Healing Charm to have settled completely before doing something," he advised quietly, looking up and witnessing that Potter was still blocking Weasley.

Excellent.

This went better than anything he could have planned out himself. But of course, now he had to add one more thing to the ever growing list of reasons of what he should punish flobberworms-for-brains for.

"Mr. Weasley," nurse Lorraine stiffly spoke to the redhead from behind the counter, "although you may be a war hero, by no means does that mean you can commit violent acts here. If you decide to continue causing trouble, we will ask you to leave, prohibit you from entering St. Mungo's again, and alert the Ministry."

Ron narrowed his eyes and was about to say something in retaliation to the nurse when Harry stepped forward.

"Why don't you lower your wand now, Ron," Harry said softly. "Before you make things worse for yourself."

Ron stared at his still raised wand, and then at Harry's, which was aimed at him. Why? Oh Merlin, he'd cursed Hermione. He stepped sideways to be able to see how she was doing, but Harry followed his moves and blocked his line of sight.

"I said, lower your wand," Harry repeated more forcefully now.

Ron's jaw dropped when he realised Harry was threatening him. "I—I," he stuttered, his ears turning red, while he pocketed his wand quickly. "I didn't mean to. Hermione, are you—?"

But Healer Lewis spoke right through his words, silencing Ron's enquiry by asking Hermione if she wanted to press charges.

"No," she whispered, sitting still on the ground and her eyes missing their usual brightness, "just get him to leave. I am done with him."

Lewis drew himself up as far as his tiny stature would take him and he stepped next to Harry. "You heard the lady, Mr. Weasley," he said, his sharp blue eyes gazing right at Ron—his wandhand itched to curse the redhead into oblivion.

Ron swallowed and avoided their eyes, tilting his head to try to get a glimpse of Hermione. "Hermi—?"

"You're very lucky she won't press charges, Mr. Weasley," Lewis interrupted coolly. "But if you don't leave now, I will. And if I find you bothering her again, I will file a full report to the Aurors of what occurred here. I've seen enough men abuse their exes simply because they can't take a hint and their precious egos are damaged. You will leave this girl alone."

"Harry?" Ron pleaded. "I didn't mean to hurt ... you know I..."

"Standard line of abusers," Lewis said coldly. "They are always so sorry after the fact," he snarled.

Ron turned pale. "But..."

"I think you should do as the Healer says and leave now, Ron. Don't force me to have to take you in," Harry said, upset.

Harry's day had already started lousy when he, along with a team of Aurors, raided one of Lord Voldemort's old strongholds and found a couple of fugitive Death Eaters there along with a tiny black book, which was the spitting image of the diary he had once destroyed—apart from the fact that the entries in it were still visible and it obviously was just charmed to respond to the person writing in it. He'd recognised both Ginny's and Riddle's script, and after reading a few bits, his stomach had turned and his breakfast had landed beside the couch he'd sat on. The sick bastard had made her relive everything his Death Eaters had done to her by forcing her to write to "Tom" about it. And the vile things he wrote back to Ginny ... Really, his death should have been far more painful, far more painful, than it had been. Harry wished again he could do that day all over once more.

He looked back at Ron, who hadn't budged from his position.

"Ron," Harry said warningly.

The redhead opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before words finally came out.

"I didn't do it on purpose, Harry. Please trust me. I—"

"Now's not the best time to explain things to me, Ron," Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to hear excuses. "Please leave."

Silence ensued, and Harry was about to call in other Aurors to take Ron away when he heard his friend's heavy footsteps moving further and further away from them. When he could no longer hear him, Harry opened his eyes and stared at the place where Ron had been standing.

How did this all happen? Why was his world shattering around him, even with Lord Voldemort gone? This was ... ridiculous ... cruel.

Heaving a sigh, he turned around and looked at his other best friend. She sat on the floor, staring coldly in the direction Ron had walked off in.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Harry asked cautiously.

She blinked before placing her attention on him. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" she asked hoarsely, standing up and patting away the dust that had attached itself to her skirt. She turned towards Healer Lewis. "Thank you ... for everything. I really need to get going now, since I have to catch the Hogwarts Express. I'm going back to Hogwarts to finish my education."

"Have a wonderful year, Hermione," Healer Lewis said pleasantly. "If you have any problem at all," he looked at her meaningfully before continuing, "such as dizziness and such from what just happened, please do not hesitate to ask the Headmistress to contact me."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled. She was extremely thankful that the Healer had kept to his promise and refrained from talking about her problems of hearing voices in public. The last thing she needed was for Harry to fret about her on the day she was leaving to Hogwarts. Merlin, he'd probably prevented her from going to Hogwarts altogether.

She turned around and gazed at Harry. He was still wearing a worried expression, as if he was afraid that she might break down any minute.

"I'm fine, Harry," she reassured him, reaching out and grabbing his hand. She gave him a smile, to which he returned a weak one of his own. "Trust me. He can't hurt me more than he had for the past few months."

"He's being an idiot," Harry said.

"When wasn't he being one?" she snorted and rolled her eyes. She sighed and smiled at him again. "I'm not going to let him hurt me again. There are other ... things that are better worth my time." A small smile played at the corner of her lips.

"Oh, did you find your parents?" Harry asked, glad about the chance to change the subject.

"Yes," Hermione grinned. "And—oh, Harry, so many things have happened! I think ... I think they're starting to remember me."

Healer Lewis softly coughed on the side. "Hermione, you do have a train to catch."

Hermione glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and an alarmed expression appeared on her face when she realized the time.

"To make a long story short, my ... boyfriend," her eyes glittered at the thought of the Seth, "is taking care of them right now."

"Your boyfriend?" Harry's eyes widened.

She nodded swiftly. "They're staying at his flat right now." She released Harry's hand and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Harry. Please do promise to write and take care of yourself and Ginny."

"Hermione, you're just going to Hogwarts," Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes and pulling away from her.

"Yes, but ..." she trailed off.

"Don't worry. I'll be the same messy-haired, green-eyed, mediocre wizard when you come back, healthy as ever," he grinned.

"You better be, or else I'll personally hex you till the next millennium," she smiled back and pulled him back for another hug.

After say her good-byes to Healer Lewis, she then proceeded to walk as quickly and quietly as she could towards the Apparition point.

Harry turned around and faced Healer Lewis, a stony expression in place.

"How may I help you today, Mr. Potter?" Healer Lewis asked carefully.

"I need to speak with you," Harry replied. "In private, if possible."

"Healer Lewis—" Lorraine immediately spoke up.

The Healer held up his hand. "I'm sure we can spare a few minutes for Mr. Potter. Please follow me."

When they were finally in Healer Lewis's office and the door was closed, Harry pulled a black diary out of his pocket and threw it on the table, in front of the Healer.

"What the hell is this all about?"

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