CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR:

Hermione's POV:

Alice's expressions kept flickering between excitement and unease as she fidgeted beside me. "Calm down." I whispered, and she shot me a look that clearly stated her annoyance.

"I'm in the sun, in the middle of a street, surrounded by people!" she whispered, "I should be sparkling! But I'm not! I'm actually not!"

To understand her amazement and excitement, I reminded myself that for the past one hundred years, Alice hadn't been able to go in the sun in the presence of humans. Now, with her ring, she could, leaving her to fight her instincts screaming for her to get away from the sun's rays, and to bask in the joy of finally being able to do something she hadn't for decades.

It was our first day in Australia, after arriving in Perth last night, via side-along apparation with Harry. After spending the night at Crown Metrapol, which was probably the most expensive and luxurious hotels in the entire state knowing Alice, where we didn't exactly sleep, per se, but still definitely got our moneys worth out of the bed (and shower, hot tub, desk, wall and sofa) we were making our way towards the home address of Wendell and Monica Wilkins, as found in a yellow pages directory.

The weather was classic Australian weather; windless and warm, the sky without a single cloud, the blue veiled with a haze of light gold.

"I miss your sparkles." I mock-sigh, shaking my head, and she pouts at me before walking ahead. I watch as she sashays casually down the street, her hips swinging as though she's dancing to her own silent beat. Her heels click on the sidewalk as people- men, mostly- eye her appreciatively. Clad in skin-tight denim and eye-catching purple, my Alice looks young and beautiful and oblivious to the attention she's getting.

Compared to her, I feel... much less delicate and beautiful, but just as elegant and eye-catching. The clothes I'm wearing are a more modern type of Wizarding wear, designed for both casual use and for dueling, composed of a blue silk blouse over dark canvas trousers, combined with black high-heeled dragon-hide boots.

"Wait up!" I complain, as I speed up slightly. She turns her head back slightly to poke her tongue out at me, before continuing ahead. I roll my eyes and sigh. At around a hundred years of age, you'd think she'd have more maturity... you'd be wrong.

"Here it is," she announced, stopping outside one of the houses on the street. "116 Stoneham Road, Attadale."

Butterflies flutter around uncomfortably in my stomach as I cover the last few steps so I'm standing next to my mate, then examine the house before us. With the more traditional architecture, I recognize my parents' taste, and the pots canna lily plants, the big pink flowers, wide-open and radiant on bright crimson stems, displayed so proudly, were my mother through and through.

I knew, without even laying eyes on the occupants of the house, that the Wendell and Monica Wilkins inside were Helen and Richard Granger, the couple who raised me.

"Well, mission successful, let's get going!" I say, brightly, turning around, ready to walk back down the way we came. Alice's hand shoots out and fastens around my forearm, spinning me back around so she can give me a stern look.

"You'll regret it later if you don't even take a look, just to make sure," she warns.

"Yes, later- much, much later." I mutter, sullenly. Alice rolls her eyes.

"Come on, drama queen, it won't be that awful."

"Says you," I counter, but I don't resist as she leads the way to the front door of the house, her grip not even loosening slightly.

Alice raps on the door, using her knuckles instead of the traditional knocker, and a handful of seconds pass, nearly a minute, before a smiling woman opens the door.

I stop breathing, stiffening as I look at my mother- or, more specifically, at the baby in her arms.

"Can I help you?" Some part of my brain registers my mother saying. Alice speaks, which I'm glad, because I don't think I could say anything, even if I tried.

"Oh I'm sorry, we were looking for my aunt Cynthia, I think we might have the wrong address." Alice says, apologetically.

"Yes you do, I'm afraid," my mother says, apologetically, "only my husband and I live here- and our daughter, of course. Can you tell me what address you're looking for?"

"116 Sailing Road," Alice recites, "the taxi dropped us off here."

"Oh, you're one street over," my mother says, with a kind smile. "It's a short walk, Webb Lane, you can see it up there, should take you to Sailing Road, and then you just need to turn left and walk up a bit- you should be able to spot it."

"Thank you, Mrs...?"
"Wilkins, love." My mother smiles, "and you're welcome."

"You have such a beautiful daughter- what's her name?" I ask, suddenly. My mother looks a little surprised to hear me talk, seeing as I've stayed silent throughout the entire exchange between her and Alice.

"Oh, this is my little princess Ari." My mother smiles fondly at the child in her arms. "Well, actually it's Ariadne. The name's from-"

"Greek mythology," I interrupt, softly, "the daughter of King Minos and Queen Pasiphae of Knossos."

"Why, yes," my mother says, looking surprised. "Are you a fan of Greek Mythology, then?"

"Sort of. My name's Hermione, after-"

"The only child of King Menelaus of Sparta and his wife, Helen of Troy." My mother smiles, "... but the gods gave no more children to Helen once she had borne her first and only child, the lovely Hermione, with the beauty of Aphrodite the golden." She quotes, before smiling again. "Wendell- that's my husband, my name's Monica, were thinking of naming Ariadne that. It's a beautiful name- your parents chose well."

"Thank you." I manage to say, and Alice wraps her arm around my waist, sensing I need the comfort.

"We better get going now. Thank you for the directions," she tells my mother, before she steers me away.

"Have a lovely day!" My mother calls after us, before closing the door.

"Are you okay?" Alice asks me, and I make a sort of choked sound that even I can't decipher. Alice reaches up on her tiptoes and gently kisses me, carding her hands through my hair. "You'll be okay," she whispers, "I love you- more then anything in the world. You have a family that loves you, adores you. You'll be okay."

"I," I pause, swallowing past the lump in my throat, "I know."

"Good," Alice says, before she grins, "now, I researched earlier and found three excellent- though questionably legal- beaches a reasonable distance from here that I think we should check out."

"Questionably legal? How come they're questionably legal?" I ask. Alice's expression turns decidedly wicked, and my eyes widen, before I groan. "They're naturalist beaches, aren't they?"

"Nudism, we all practice it." Alice winks, "some of us just wear clothes on top."

"Alice," I state, "You are two bludgers, a quaffle and a stadium of fans short of a full Quidditch match."

-

With finding my parents ticked off the list, we leave Australia, making our way back to Forks, via Portkey. As we walk into the mansion, Jacob, who is playing with Elizabeth on the floor, points at us. "Look Lizzie- Auntie Hermy and Auntie Alice are back!" He tells her. I choke on the awful abbreviation of my name and shoot Jacob a death glare.

"If I ever, ever hear that god awful version of my name again, I will slip you a potion that will permanently alter your anatomy mutt!" I growled. Jacob gulps slightly, and beside me Alice snickers.

"How did it go?" Bella asks, from her position on the couch, curled up on Edward's lap.

"Wendell and Monica are alive and well." I answer her. She raises an eyebrow.

"That's it?"

"That and we briefly visited a naturalist beach." Alice says, smugly. I try to elbow her, but she darts out of range, giggling.

"Ooh-lala!" Bella laughs. I growl under my breath, and stalk out of the room, into the kitchen, where George appears to be cooking something. I idly watched the pans and food flying through the air, eggs in a conga line waiting to be fried and sausages frolicking in a buttered skillet for a few moments, before turning to face George.

"May I ask why?"
"You may." He grins. I wait a few seconds, before realizing what he's done. I sigh. "Why?"
"I'm going on a date." He informs me. My eyes widen drastically.

"A date?"

"Yes, a date." He confirms, solemnly. "A picnic breakfast, with a beautiful woman."

"Are you... joking?" I ask, uncertainly. He makes a huffing noise.

"No, I'm not joking. I... met someone."

"Here in Forks?"

"I was visiting the Church," George said, looking a touch on the sheepish side, "I... met her there. Her dad's the preacher."

"Wait, Angela?" This is Bella, who's suddenly standing beside me, her vampire hearing having easily picked up our conversation. "Angela Weber? You're going on a date with Angela Weber?"

"Yes, that's her." George smiles. "Angela... her name means 'angel'. Very fitting, I believe." Bella looks astonished.

"Wow..."

"It's almost insulting that you sound that amazed." George points out, and if Bella could blush she would be.

"I- I didn't mean like that, it's the whole two worlds colliding thing-" she stammers, until George interrupts.

"It's okay, Bella," he says, "I was joking."

"Oh." She says, still looking embarrassed. "Well, I'm going to... bye." We both watch as she disappears back into the living room.

"Charlie's coming around later today," George remarks, as he turns back to his picnic preparations. I stiffen slightly. "You should talk to him."

"I know." -

I wait until the end of Charlie's visit with Elizabeth, to bring the topic up. He seems surprised when I ask him for a few minutes, as he stands up, ready to leave, but is more then willing to acquiesce. Bella, sensing my wish for privacy, picks up Elizabeth and, after giving Charlie a kiss on the cheek, walks out of the living room.

I concentrate, hard, on the tingling feeling of my magic, and murmur a privacy spell, quiet and quick enough so that Charlie doesn't hear or notice. I feel a thrill of victory rush through me when the magic leaves my body, and settles around the room like a blanket. That thrill, however, vanishes, replaced by nerves when Charlie turns to me.

"You said there's something you wanted to tell me?" He says, looking a bit puzzled. I nod, taking a deep, albeit unnecessary breath.

"Charlie, I... well, there's no easy way to say this but I'm... I'm a witch." There's a long stretch of silence, in which Charlie just stares at me, and I wish that I'd found a better way to break the news.

"You're a witch." He finally repeats, completely flabbergasted. "By witch, you mean...."

"I don't sacrifice animals under the light of a full moon, or anything." I say, biting my lip slightly as I watch the emotions flash across Charlie's face.

"But you can do magic?" Charlie says, before shaking his head. "Jesus," he mumbled, dragging a hand through his hair, a mannerism I felt oddly proud that he'd passed on to me. "Next you'll be telling me there'll be flying pigs!"

I decided now was not the best time to mention lacreethas, the tiny, winged, wild swines which inhabited the treetops in the Amazonian rainforest.

There's a long pause where neither of us say anything, Charlie just sits there looking... well, mind blown, and I watch him, in apprehension. I'm the one who breaks the silence. "Charlie, I can't take this anymore; talk," I plead, "Yell, scream, tell me to go away, just say something, anything."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Hermione." He says, quietly, "In these last three months, my entire outlook on the world has been changed. I've learned one of my kids has been changed into something not human and I can't know what because knowing would put my life in danger, one is a witch, I have a grandchild who isn't human and my best friend has a son who turns into a damn wolf and he knew about this crazy world and never told me; how do you think I feel?"

"I think you're scared, pissed, worried, and completely out of your depths." I say, softly. "I think you would give anything to have this not be real. Charlie... can you... can you handle this?"

Charlie sighs and stands up. "I don't know, Hermione... I- I'm going for a walk."

I watch him leave, my heart sinking. Alice appears in the room and wraps her arms around me. "It's going to be okay, dear heart." She says, softly. "He's coming back. He just needs to process." I nod, closing my eyes and breathing in Alice's scent.

"Okay." I whisper, not knowing what else to say, just knowing that the space in my chest where my heart once beat is aching unbearably.

He doesn't stay away for as long as I thought he would, returning to the mansion before a half hour passes. I watch him nervously, and am surprised when he crosses the room, so he's standing right before me, then wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight.

"So you... you're okay with it... right?" I ask, hesitantly, feeling vulnerable. He gives me a tired sort of smile.

"I'm... I don't know what to think about all this, but I'll never stop being here for you. For either of my girls."

"Thank you... dad." I said, quietly, ignoring Alice's whispered 'I told you so'.