The Thunder in My Heart

Epilogue

On the 22nd December 1998, Bill Weasley followed Dr Monica Wilkins into her dental surgery for his emergency appointment. He was, he hated to admit, rather nervous, though possibly more to do with the clinical whiteness and smell of muggle disinfectants and dental mouthwash of the building rather than the task he was about to perform.

They had been over it time and time again. They had staked out the dental surgery for the best part of a week and now the operation was in full swing.

In the end, they had taken Hermione's memory of the event leading up to the Oblivate spell and modified it slightly to include a conversation beforehand and a consent on the part of the Grangers-now-Wilkinses. As Bill followed the trim-looking woman who, unsurprisingly, looked just like an older Hermione, along the corridor to her surgery, he carefully trained his hidden wand upon her, muttering a spell to put the memory within her mind, ready for activation at the mention of some very specific key phrases. He had, by chance, been able to do the same with Dr Wendall Wilkins the previous day when he'd come in to book the appointment.

'If you'd like to take a seat, Mr Weasley, I'll just take a look at this painful tooth of yours,' she indicated to the worrisome-looking reclining chair in the middle of the room as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

'I wonder,' he said, grimacing slightly in anticipation of what he was about to do and the uncertainty of the outcome. 'I wonder if your husband is available too, I have a message for you both.'

Monica Wilkins looked at Bill suspiciously and for once Bill wished his face didn't look bleakly scarred and he wasn't wearing his earing. He gave her what he hoped was a winning smile.

'I... What do you mean? This is most irregular...'

'...It's a message from Highgate, London,' he interrupted before she panicked and threw him out.

He watched her pause and it was almost as if a fog was lifting from her brown eyes and suspicion turned to trust, so the first part of their curse-breaking charm had worked. His smile broadened; it had been Blaise's idea to include the triggering curse-breaking phrases in Hermione's modified memory. He squirrelled away the information regarding the young man's tremendous potential, not that he hadn't seen it after their first discussion about the Grangers but this simply reinforced that he'd made the right decision regarding offering Blaise one of the few coveted Curse-Breaker Apprenticeships.

Dr Wilkins rushed to the door, 'Wendall, Wendall...' she called into the empty corridor. A door opened and a tall slender man with slightly reddish hair rushed out.

'What is it, darling.'

'There's a man here, he says he has a message from Highgate, London...'

Dr Wendall Wilkins stood in the doorway to surgery, looking Bill up and down, his eyes lingering on Bill's red hair.

'Do I know you?' Wendall Wilkins asked.

'We've not met before,' Bill offered. 'But I have a message. I need to tell you both that she's safe.'

'She's safe! Oh! OH...'

Bill watched the final shroud fall from their eyes.

'Oh! She's safe, Monica, she's safe. No, no, not Monica anymore. I can call you Jean again. Jean, she's safe... that means it's all over... we can go home...'

Bill watched the couple hold on to each other tightly, their eyes glistening with tears.

'Is she here?' Jean Granger asked. 'She said she would come once she was safe...'

Bill sighed in relief, it meant the final part of the spell to break the Obliviate Curse had truly worked. 'Yes, she's in your waiting room.'

'Thank you, thank you...' the words were almost lost as the couple rushed out of the surgery and to the waiting room.

When Bill stepped into the small room lined with chairs, he found the three Grangers holding each other in a tight embrace. He nodded to Blaise who was sitting self-consciously on the edge of a small table piled with out-of-date magazines, he was thumbing through a dental hygiene pamphlet and grimacing at the images. Bill mutter another spell, this time pushing the rather fuzzy, modified memory to the back of the Wilkins-Grangers minds, still there but rather vague and with a bit of a deterrent encircling it to prevent too much attention being paid to the inaccuracies or the fact that the memory was entirely from Hermione's perspective. It wouldn't do to have that memory explored in too much detail.

'Congratulations, Blaise,' Bill smiled wryly. 'I want a full report on my desk by Monday.'

Blaise blinked, wide-eyed.

'Teasing!' Bill laughed. 'Though, of course, if you want to write it up, you can consider it part of your official application test into my department. Meanwhile, I need to head off; I would really like to spend Christmas with my family.' He leant in close to Blaise and whispered in his ear, 'And I shall take great joy in winding my little brother up as I tell everyone at the Christmas table what a genius you are and how you broke the curse...' He slapped him heartily on the back. 'I'll Owl Harry as soon as I'm back on British soil, it'll be easier than you trying to do from here. Say goodbye to Mione for me and you must both come over to the cottage for dinner once you're back. I don't suppose you speak French, do you?'

'Mais oui...'

'Fleur will be delighted!' Bill grinned. 'See you soon.'

And Bill swept out of the Dentist's, walked rapidly to the nearest deserted alleyway with a grin on his ruggedly handsome face, and reached into his inside pocket to pull out the first Portkey home.

The End.