On this crisp November evening, a young woman of about twenty-one with bushy brown hair stared out into the fog that surrounded the house she shared with her sister. Her hands were deep in the rapidly cooling soapy, dishwater in the empty kitchen sink in front of her. Her mind was elsewhere; this was evident to the woman’s sister who stood behind her. Deidre Granger had straight dark brown hair with natural and artificial highlights, miles of legs and the same bucked teeth her sister one had. She stepped behind her sister and placed a delicately shaped hand at the small of Hermione's back. The bushy haired girl jumped slightly and turned around, water flying everywhere.



“Oh! It's just you. For some reason I am a bit jumpy today. I feel as though something is going to go terribly wrong!” admonished Hermione as she looked at her feet. “Look at the mess I made. Don't you wish that you could flick your wrist and the whole thing would disappear?”




“I wish you could,” Deidre smiled sadly, giving her sister a gentle hug.

“Don't you worry, Dee. I will find another job. I always do!” said Hermione misinterpreting her sister's hug. “Now let me clean this mess up and then we can watch that movie.”




Deidre began to smile in sad agreement when she spotted a snowy owl outside the window with a roll of parchment tied to its leg. “No. The mess was my fault. I scared you. I'll clean it up. You go get changed; you have water all over you! I'll meet you in the living room in a few!” Deidre offered a small smile. The look on her sister's face told her that Hermione knew something was up, but she headed upstairs and to her room anyway. Deidre was shocked that Hermione hadn't bothered to argue or adopt her usual bossy tone. That showed how worried Hermione was. She decided that she would clean after she dispensed of the animal. So she crossed to the window and let the owl in. It lifted its leg out to her and she promptly removed the scroll. 'Deidre Granger' was written up the side. She broke the seal and began to read:




'Dear Deidre,




She is in grave danger. We have to protect her. There is no way around it; she has to return to where she belongs. What we are about to ask of her would be hard for anyone, but you know as well as I that she is strong and will be able to cope. I know you think it is too soon, but unless you rather she be dead, the time is now. They will not wait any longer and I for one will not sit around and wait until it is too late. So, will you let her return home? If yes, send a reply with Hedwig and I will be by to get her. If no, send a reply with Hedwig and I will be by to get her anyway.




My condolences.'




For that last three years Deidre had watched her sister struggle from crap job to crap job. It wasn't as though Hermione couldn't do the work, but rather when she became upset weird things would happen: windows would shatter, lights would flicker, once a man had even caught fire. Though no one, except for Deidre and her parents, knew why these things happened and Hermione would be released from her position. Maybe this will jump-start her memory, and she can finally return to normal, Deidre thought, twirling her hair around her finger and biting her lower lip. The owl, which had perched herself near the sink, hooted happily in response. Deidre wrote a hasty 'fine' across the bottom of the parchment and retied the scroll to the owl's leg, deciding she would face her sister tomorrow, and have this last night to herself, without any worries.




She let the owl out the window and set about cleaning the spilled water off of the floor. When she was through she looked around the small kitchen, but instead of seeing what was truly there she saw what Hermione should have had. Her sister should have been living in a small flat in London, or a nice house in the country. She should have had a boyfriend, or a husband and a baby. She should have had the support of a few best friends. She should have had a wand, an owl, a secret, she should have had what was once hers. Letting a sole tear escape for her sister's broken past, she set off to rejoin Hermione for the last night of life as they knew it.

---

Just a few miles away in front of a dirty old pub sat a young man wearing a black cloak, his face hidden from view and his right hand concealed. He was impatiently muttering to himself; something like “ Bloody Americans,” and scanning the sky. His incoherent mumblings continued until an owl swooped down from the night's sky and perched on the arm of the bench. Her white feathers reflected the fog and there was a scroll of parchment tied to her leg, which she held up to the man. He reached for the parchment and released it. He smiled when he read the scribbled “Fine” at the bottom of the page.




Well at least she didn't say 'No', he thought to himself. That would make things harder, much harder.

“Hedwig,” he said turning to the owl. “Go home.” At her mournful hoot the mysterious man reached over to ruffle the owl's feathers. She then flew into the fog and disappeared from sight. The man watched her go, almost wishing he could go home as well. He didn't delight in tearing apart families.




The man then reached under the bench and pulled out a broomstick that had been hidden there. He mounted and flew into the night and thought to himself, The least I could do is give them more time together, before I turn their whole world upside-down. He hated himself for what he had to do but still couldn't stifle the excitement bubbling in his stomach.

---

Hermione sat in the living room of the house she shared with her nineteen-year-old sister, watching a new Jim Carey comedy. She knew that something was up with Deidre but tonight didn't seem like the time to ask what. Deidre never let her out of her line of sight, and made sure that Hermione was always within touching distance. Her sister looked forlorn and melancholy, a bit like the world was going to end. Hermione didn't know what she was going to do about her job, or lack-there-of, but tonight was not the night to worry. Something was bound to turn up, it always did.




About twenty minutes into the movie there was a knock at the door. Deidre shot a worried look at it, as if willing the person who knocked to go away. Hermione wondered why. Deidre usually loved having people over and often invited complete strangers inside. Some very odd strangers, Hermione thought, remembering the balding red haired man dressed in pinstriped pants and an old bomber jacket, who hadn't known the correct pronunciation of normal things like “electricity” or “telephone”.




Both girls stood to walk to the door but Deidre got there first. Hermione watched from behind when Deidre opened the door. At first it looked as though no one was there, but then there was a shuffling sound and a hoarse male voice said, “Hermione.” From out of the fog stepped a red haired, blue eyed, tall and lanky young man. Hermione's breath caught in her chest as she stared up into the face that lurked in her dreams.

A/N: Ok so the next chapter is called Presents. In this chapter Ron gives Hermione three presents... if anyone can guess the three i will give them an uber fabuloso prize...the next chapter!!! YAY!!!... yes this a shameless bribe to get you guys to review!!!:)

Hermione felt all of her breath leave her in one big “WHOOSH!”, she had the faint sensation that her knees were buckling somewhere beneath her. There was something SO familiar about this man, yet not. The image of a ginger haired, blue eyed boy with dirt on his nose flashed in her mind, followed by another with the same boy vomiting up slugs, then a little older now and in a hospital bed with a broken leg, next he was in what looked to be a rather old dress, next in red robes being carried on the shoulders of a happy crowd, then crouched on the floor of a green house, and the last was of the same boy nearly all grown up standing next to another boy with untidy black hair and glasses, both with a determined look in their eyes. Just before she hit the ground Hermione felt two pairs of arms reach out to catch her. One pair was familiar and intimate; the other pair belonged to her sister.

---

Ron felt like an enormous bolder was lifted off his chest as soon as Hermione was in his embrace. He released a breath he had known he had been holding. Hermione he thought with a mental sigh. He had been waiting for this day for three long years. Deidre was looking at Ron with a horrified and melancholy expression. Ron couldn’t look her in the eye, he felt like such a prat.



“You knew I was coming, Dee,” he said as he carried Hermione through the house to the sofa.



“Yes, but I hoped it wouldn’t be today. I haven’t even had a chance to tell her. She isn’t prepared! RON!” She was becoming frantic now. “She fainted when she saw you! What do you think submerging her in that world will do to her,” Deidre shrieked.



“Fix her!” Ron stated firmly brushing a stray hair out of Hermione face. He pulled his wand out of his robes, pointed it at Hermione and muttered, “Rennervate!”



Hermione’s eyes opened slowly. She had a dazed look left over from her earlier faint. She looked from Ron to Deidre and back again, then raised her hand to her head and winced. “Who are you?” her voice was weak and a little worried.



Ron and Deidre exchanged a worried look. Did my sudden appearance shatter her fragile memory? Ron thought. Deidre seem to be thinking along the same lines.



“Well, Hermione… I am your sister-”



“Deidre, I know who you are, and have since I was two! I was talking about him,” muttered Hermione pointing in Ron’s general direction. “ I know you, but where… and how… when…?” she sat up still mulling over it in her mind.



Ron smiled to himself, same old Hermione, a brain that works faster than her mouth. “My name is Ron Weasley, and you did know me… once.” Deidre shot him a warning look. “We went to school together.”

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. “ I don’t remember you from primary or secondary school.” Her eyebrows had almost disappeared into her bangs.



Deidre swallowed audibly; Ron knew this was going to be hard on her, to lose her sister to a world that had almost killed her once. He decided to stay out of this one and allow Deidre to explain. She started, “Hermione… I know this going to be hard to understand but… you don’t actually remember secondary school.”

---

Hermione looked incredulous, “What?!?! I’m not mental you know. I remember going to J-”



“I know you have memories of going there but they are false. They were implanted there when your actual memories were erased.”



Hermione’s eyes bulged, “Implanted? What do you mean I had memories implanted in my mind?”



“You lost your memories in a battle against Lord Voldemort. Ron was one of your best mates at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Deidre informed her.



“You mean I am a… a… a WIZARD?”



The man her sister called Ron snorted as he walked along the mantle looking at the family pictures accumulated there. “No. I am a wizard. You are a witch,” Ron corrected. He muttered something under his breath that sounded faintly like “ And you’d do well to remember it this time. 'But there’s no wood'. Honestly.”



“But if I am a witch… or was a witch… then why don’t I remember or know how to do any magic?”



“Well, when we fought the war again Vol-demort,” His voice broke on that strange name, “you were hit by a stray spell and all or your magic related memories were erased. And while you were still in St. Mungo’s your parents decided that they wanted you to live out the rest of your life as a Muggle,” Ron explained.



St. Mungo’s? Muggle? Hermione thought. Such strange words and at the same time, I understand them. “So then why are you here now? What has changed in the last three years?”



“ There is another dark wizard who is terrorizing wizard kind. And he has a standing grudge against Muggle-borns, especially you Hermione.”

“Me?” Hermione squeaked. “Why me.”



“Well he hated you while we were at school. And I guess that hatred has followed him ever since. But it doesn’t matter why right now. All that matters is that he may have found you and if we don’t get you out of here soon then you and your family are going to be in trouble,” Ron told her.



“WHAT? Where am I supposed to go? And where is Deidre going to go?”



“I already called Mom and asked if I could stay there for a while. I took two weeks off work. It should be a nice vacation. Even if you’re not there,” Deidre smiled.



“Wait. If I’m not with you… where am I going to be? Surely you don’t expect me to go with this perfect stranger?” Hermione looked scandalized. “Are you both nutters?”



“No we aren’t nutters, and I am not a stranger. We have known each other since we were 11. Plus I know you are going to come with me. Because otherwise they will find you and your family.”



Hermione looked at this man standing in front of her, all red hair and determination. But how did she know he was even who he said he was. She couldn’t remember anything about this past she was supposed to have lived. “Ok, even if I was once a witch, how do I know you were one of the good guys?”



Ron gave her a withering look. “If I was one of the bad guys I would have killed you already.”



“Fine!” Hermione sighed. She had obviously lost this battle. Plus her sister trusted him, and she didn’t want to see her family hurt. “Can I at least pack a bag? Or do I have to go with only the clothes on my back?”



“Fine, pack a bag I don’t care. Whatever makes you more comfortable.”



“I’ll go with you, Hermione,” Deidre decided jumping up and following her out of the room.

---

Ron watched the girls leave the room. They needed this time together. Plus, Deidre would make sure that Hermione didn’t jump ship, so to speak. It was going to take a while for her to trust him again, but he had three things at home that would help. He smiled as he thought of them. That at the very least would be interesting, he thought.



A short while later Hermione appeared in the door way with a trunk. Ron hurried forward to help her with it. It was amazingly heavy when he tried to pick it up. “What do you have in here, A ton of bricks?” He questioned.



“No, just clothes and some books.” She answered.



“Right. Just some books! Where is your sister anyways?” Ron asked as he walked towards the fireplace.



“She stayed upstairs, it’s a lot easier this way. Where are we going?”



“England. Can you light this?” He asked pointing to the fireplace between them.



“Erm… ok I guess.” She bent down, turned on the gas, and lit a fire. When she stood up the fire was blazing. “How are we getting there? Plane?”



“No,” Ron said as he reached into this pocket and pulled out a handful of green powder. He threw it in the fireplace and when the flames shot up he stuck his head in and shouted “the Burrow” then proceeded to shove Hermione’s trunk and his broomstick through.



“ My Books! Why did you BURN my books?”



Ron smiled. “I didn’t burn them. I sent them to my house.”



“Um…” Hermione looked skeptically at the fireplace. “We aren’t going to your house that way are we?”



“No,” Ron shook his head. “Too much of a chance of you getting out in the wrong gate.”



“So… how are we getting to your house?” Hermione still looked a bit skeptical.



“We are going to Apparate. Follow me.” Ron walked out the front door and at the bottom of the steps he stopped. “Come here,” he said. Hermione walked to his side. He pulled her into a kind of one-armed, side-hug. “Hold on.” He looked down into her eyes and turned on the spot taking her with him. He felt the familiar pressure pushing in all around him. When he opened his eyes he was back in his room in good old England. Hermione was looking around with slightly shocked look on her face. Ron couldn’t really blame her. It almost looked like they had stepped into an oven. The walls and bed were a violent shade of orange. Even the cat at the end of his bed was ginger. “Oh, Hermione, I have something for you.” Ron lifted the bow-legged, squashed faced cat off of his bed and handed it to her. “Meet Crookshanks.”



“Aww. He’s so cute,” Hermione cooed.



“I was hoping you would think that. He has been driving me crazy for the last three years.”



“You mean… he’s … he’s...mine? From before?”



“Yes, and so is this,” Ron turned and rummaged through his drawers, Where had he put that? “Found it!” He handed Hermione her wand. She just looked at it. Ron had the urge to smack himself in the forehead. It’s just a stick to her, he though. “It’s your wand,” he clarified.



“Oh… thanks.” She smiled awkwardly.



“One more thing.” He pulled a book out from under his bed. Well at least she will like this one. He handed her the dusty book.



She took it into her hands and read the title, “Hogwarts, A History”.





A/N: Yay! On more chapter complete...And just a bit closer to the end... how sad!!! Anyways the next chapter is called Meeting the Family.. Hope you like it!

Hermione could not talk for the lump of emotion lodged in her throat. The wand and the cat were one thing, but she some how knew that this book had been very special to her at one time. She ran her fingers across the worn, gold lettering on the front, willing herself to remember something, anything. It was like being in an unfamiliar, pitch-black room, where she kept hitting the walls but couldn’t locate the switch. She looked up into Ron’s eyes, so full of hope. Hermione gave into impulse and rushed forward pulling him into a huge hug, which he returned with a couple of awkward pats on her back. She backed up and said, “Thank you.” As she spoke, she moved to place the book atop the violently orange bed.

“Oh, no,” Ron said. “You won’t be staying here. This is my room.” He gave a small shrug. “You will be staying in Ginny’s old room.”

Hermione didn’t have a clue who Ginny was, and wasn’t given anytime to ask. Ron had already gathered her things and was walking out of the inferno he called a bedroom. Hermione hesitated to follow him, that is until she heard an unidentifiable rattling above her head. I’ll take my chances with Ron, and Ginny’s bedroom, she decided as she ran out of the room.

Hermione followed Ron’s bobbing head, which was nearly level with hers despite the number of stairs between them. He stopped in front of a door, about two flights down, bearing the sign “Ginevra’s Room”. With out knocking, Ron kicked open the door and with a flick of his wand, ignited the candles in the room. The walls were a light lavender color and entirely devoid of any personal affects. In fact, the whole room looked as if it had once been loved, though that was not the case any longer. Hermione’s trunk was already at the end of the bed. Ron unceremoniously dumped her wand, Hogwarts, A History, and Crookshanks onto the neatly made bed. The cat yowled and threw a rather dirty look, for a cat that is, at Ron before walking back out of the door and up the stairs.

“Blast!” Ron exclaimed. “I was rather hoping he would stay with you now. So… you... erm… wanna unpack or meet… er…everyone…again?” He looked around uncomfortably and wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Hermione let out a sigh. Unpack in a room she wasn’t sure she was completely comfortable using or meet people from a past she couldn’t remember? Either way she felt she was getting the short end of the stick. Hermione smiled, that was her favorite American saying, and just thinking about it made her feel better. Looking around at the sad and lonely room, she decided to tackle that first. The room reminded her of how she had felt just hours before: incompetent, unloved, almost forgotten, and she never wanted to feel that way again. “Unpack,” she said.

Ron looked slightly relieved at this, and before she turned to her trunk she noticed that the tips of his ears had turned a faint shade of pink. It made her smile for some reason. Then she frowned, it was there, at the edge of her mind, the shadow of a memory. There one-second and gone the next. But it is progress, I guess, Hermione thought.

She was unpacked within minutes, as she only had a few pairs of clothes and under things, though more knickers than outfits. She figured clothes could be washed, so she saved most of the room in her trunk for books, a varied multitude that she lined up across the dresser and piled under the bedside table. Looking around the room, she smiled, feeling more at home among her books. As an after thought, she set Hogwarts, A History on top of the bedside table for later reading. She looked at the ‘wand’ on her bed; she didn’t know what to do with it. Deciding not to dwell on it, she stashed it in the back pocket of her jeans. “Done,” she said to Ron who had turned away to examine the door rather thoroughly when she put her knickers away.

He smiled nervously at her and opened the door, which seemed to have passed his inspection. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him, to which he responded with an impatient sigh and motioned her to proceed out of the door. Down another three flights of narrow stairs Hermione heard voices coming from what she thought must be a kitchen. The closed door muffled the words though she knew there were at least two men and two women in there. Hermione had the urge to flee back up the stairs but the brick wall that was Ron’s chest happened to be in the way. What does he do to stay so toned? she wondered. She could feel her back nearly pressed to his front because she had stopped so suddenly.

Ron’s hand found the small of her back. It gave her comfort and courage, for some reason. “Come on. Let’s go in,” he said in her ear.

Curiosity and that hand overpowered her urge to run. Feeling very much like a cat on its last life, Hermione moved forward into the well lit kitchen. All conversations ceased as six pairs of eyes, turned to meet her; apparently, she had been wrong about the number of people in the room. They seemed to be collectively holding their breath. Hermione looked to the black haired, green eyed, man wearing glasses nearest to her. Everyone else in the room was no doubt related�“ Ron, the balding man with Ron’s eyes, the plump woman paused near the stove, the two identical men seated at the table and the pretty young woman at the sink. All of them were staring at her, all of them with flaming red hair. Hermione could relate with the man with black hair; they were outsiders together. But she was an outsider of another kind as well, one nobody else could relate to.

Hermione didn’t know what to say, what to do. She gave a weak smile, and that was all it took. The woman at the stove caught her in a bone-crushing embrace. That wrenched lump rose once more. These people loved her. She could tell by the looks in their eyes, still frozen in a shocked state. She had seen it in this woman’s face before it became engulfed in Hermione’s ever-bushy hair. She knew she loved this woman �“ all of these people, in fact, it was almost like instinct. Hermione returned the hug, thought with a lot less vigor than she was receiving.

“Hermione, I never thought I’d live to see the day when you would come back. My, you are getting too thin. Let me get you something to eat,” the woman moved away, this seemed to break the spell over the rest of the room.

“Erm…” Ron sputtered from the doorway.

“Hermione-” called out one of the identical men; he couldn’t be more than 2 or 3 years older than her.

“Simply smashing-” called the other twin, which Hermione decided they were.

“To see you!” They were both up and out of their chairs and headed her way. The urge to run flooded her again.

“It has been too long-” They were on either side of her now.

“Far too long.” Hermione was being embraced from either side at this point, wiggled one way and tugged the other. Soon she was released. The identical faces beamed at her, she smile weakly in return. This was definitely a sensory over-load.

Her senses didn’t have much time to recover before a pair of strong male arms was wrapped around her. She felt the same way she had when Ron had caught her earlier. She knew these arms, knew them well. Hermione looked up into the greenest eyes she had ever seen. From across the room they had been lovely; but here with them directly above her, they were breath taking. He smiled and said, “We’ve missed you, Hermione.” Then he kissed her forehead in a very brotherly manner. Tears threatened to spill from her treacherous eyes. The man moved back.

Ron made another odd noise from his place behind Hermione, but before anyone could acknowledge him, the ginger haired young woman came running at Hermione. She barely had time to open her arms before the body hit hers square in the chest. Hermione soon became aware that the spot on her shoulder where the women’s face lay was wet and hot with tears. Hermione let go too. Standing there in a virtual strangers arms Hermione sobbed for everything she didn’t know, couldn’t understand, had missed that those memories, years, that were missing from her life. Oh, how I wish I could remember, she thought. The woman stepped back after a while. She wiped the tears from her face, and Hermione mirrored the movement. She then turned to the only person left in the room who had yet to hug her. Dawning realization hit her.

“I know you! You’ve been to my house.” He was one of the strangers who would visit Deidre, the one who couldn’t pronounce ‘electricity’.

The grin that had covered his face now slipped off, if she had been paying attention, Hermione would have noticed the strange looks she was now getting. As it was, she had only eyes for this balding man from her dual lives.

Ron cleared his throat rather loudly and all eyes shifted to him, all asking the same question: “What is going on?”

---

Ron sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He realized as soon as Hermione walked into the room that he had gone about this in the wrong way. He should have told her first that there were six people in the kitchen waiting for her arrival. Six people who had known her since she was 11 or 12 and hadn’t seen her in three years. Except for his father, obviously, but Ron still wasn’t sure what was going on there. Hermione should have been braced for the hugs and the tears.

As for his family, well he still didn’t know what he could have done about them knowing that Hermione still hadn’t regained her memory. Ron could see himself saying, “Hermione, you wait here while I go tell some people you don’t remember that you don’t remember them, ok?” Ron smiled wryly at that though.

“Hermione doesn’t remember,” Ron said, then winced. He should have been a bit subtler. It was too late now.

All eyes were on Hermione, and he could tell she didn’t appreciate it. Ginny was the first on to make a sound, a strangled sob somewhere in her throat. The look of horror on her face made Ron feel like the worlds biggest prat, worse than Percy. When Harry recovered enough to speak, “Oh!” was all he could say. His mum was the worst, though. After a long horrified glance at Hermione,she just kept on making food for her, like Ron hadn’t said anything. But her eyes betrayed her, in her eyes he could see tears piling up, waiting line to fall down her face, to show her disappointment, sadness, fear. Fred and George’s emotions were harder to figure out. They had blank expressions, like it was all too much of a shock to comprehend. His dad looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Look at this, me, RON, trying to interpret emotions. And Hermione thought I had the emotional range of a teaspoon, if only she could see me now, but Hermione could see him now, in fact she was looking right at him. He had turned her world upside down without any explanation at all, and she still couldn’t remember the past she had just stepped into.

Luckily Ron was saved, for the moment, by his niece and nephew practicing the use of their newfound lungs. Ginny’s sobs caught in her throat and she moved toward her three month old twins. She picked up the babies and held them close. She whispered in their ears. Ron was too far away to hear what was being said but he knew how she felt. If Hermione had recovered, then everything in their little bubble would be righted. Hermione without her memories was not the same Hermione they all knew and loved. She was a stranger, but then again they were all strangers to her. Hermione was staring at the twins like she hadn’t known they were there. As if you could miss that bassinet by the fireplace, Ron thought. He hit the thing twice daily.

Harry moved to grab Danny from his wife while she held Livvy close. The babies were quiet, which was Ron’s cue he could begin again.

“Hermione, I would like you to meet Ginny and Harry, my sister and brother-in-law, and those are their twins, Danny and Livvy. There are Fred and George, my brothers. And then there are my parents, Molly and Arthur, whom I take it you already know.” Hermione nodded with ever name, but Ron wasn’t sure she took it all in. She didn’t move from her spot until Molly set down a bowl of steaming onion soup at the table and motioned for her to sit down. Hermione moved forward, and Ron sighed again. He wasn’t sure if this was helping her or hurting her, but he seriously hoped it was the former.

---

Hermione stared at the steaming bowl before her, trying to take it all in. She really just needed some time to process. Abruptly she stood and ran from the room, leaving seven shocked faces behind her. The names and faces swam in her head, all meshing together. HarryGinnyRonDannyLivvyGeorgeMollyArthurBlackha irRedhairBlueeyesGreeneyesBrowneyesGinnyLivvyHarry DannyRonMollyArthurGredForge… Choking back a sob she ran to her room. No, Ginny’s room, Hermione thought.

She threw herself face down into her pillow. It doesn’t smell right! The thought just made her cry harder. After a few minutes, the door behind her opened. Drying her eyes, Hermione turned to see Ginny walk in, floating the bassinet before her. She kicked the door closed and placed the babies in the corner nearest the bed. Ginny turned to Hermione and smiled so brightly it almost reached her eyes.

“I’m Ginny, if you didn’t catch that earlier,” she said. Hermione gave a watery smile in response.

“So, were you the only one brave enough to follow me?” Hermione quipped.

Ginny made a sound, “No. I had to fight Harry for that honor. But he is content yelling at my insolent brother, who should have warned us!” She lay at the foot of the bed and looked up at Hermione. “Ok, so I’m sure there are some questions you’d like answered, feel free to ask.”

Hermione could feel the questions lining up on the back of her tongue, there were so many. Where should she begin, what was of the utmost pertinence, how was she supposed to decide that?

First things first, she thought, “How do I know you?”

Ginny seemed relieved. “Oh, that’s easy. During your first year at Hogwarts you, Ron and Harry knocked out a mountain troll with his own club. You’ve been friends ever since!”

“Ok, who is Voldemort? Ron said his name while he was at my house.”

Ginny sighed, “You always did get right to the point. Over 50 years ago…” and Ginny spun the dark and twisted tale that was Voldemort’s, Harry Potter’s, Ginny’s…Hermione’s. “You, Ron and Harry went after the four other Horcurxes after your sixth year at school. Slytherin’s locket in Godric’s Hollow, Hufflepuff’s cup at Voldemort’s old orphanage, Ravenclaw’s jewelry box found at Borgin and Burkes, and finally that nasty snake that was with Voldemort . Then Harry had to destroy the seventh bit of Voldemort’s soul, the bit still inside Voldemort's body. You and Ron held Death Eaters and Dementors off. No one truly knows what happened between Harry and Voldemort, but I am just glad he was returned to me whole. As for you, some stray spell or another hit you. No one knows who cast it. Ron suspects Draco or Snape, and Harry doesn’t know who. You were transported to St. Mungo’s where your parents collected you without a word. The only contact that we had was with Deidre, maybe because she understood that we all love you as much as she and your parents do.”

Hermione wanted to ask so much more. How could she regain her memory, what was she like before, how good of friends were they? But instead she asked, “So Harry defeated Voldemort and you married him?”

Ginny laughed. “Oh no! You see, we dated when he was 16 and I was 15, then he ruthlessly dumped me to go off and save the world. So when he returned, Harry had quite a bit of groveling to do before I took him back.” Ginny gave a bawdy wink before saying, “But I did get these two out of the deal, so it hasn’t been all bad!” Ginny levitated the bassinet towards the bed and looked down at the sleeping children.

“How did you come up with the names Danny and Livvy?”

“Their full names are Daniel Wesley Potter and Olivia Rae Potter, but since both Harry’s name and mine end with a ‘y’ as do both of our mothers, we decided to continue the tradition. Hence Danny and Livvy.”

Danny started to fuss, and his sister moved closer in response. Hermione could see that they had the same nose and sweet puckered mouth but Danny’s hair was the palest of red and Livvy’s was as black as night. Ginny seemed to read her mind and said, “I do hope they have their father’s eyes.” She continued to stare down at her children, mesmerized by the bright future ahead of them.

Hermione sighed wishing she had back all that she’d missed. She wanted to ask more. Especially about this new Dark Lord, the whole reason she was here. But for tonight, she had enough to sort through, and she was just glad to have a new friend on her side.

A/N: Whoo! I'm glad that one is done! This was the hardest chapter to write so far... and I guess out of three thats not saying much! So the next chapter is called Practical Magic. Do tune in for it! Also YellowLime,mine is up where is yours, eh?

Ron came to a halt in the doorway of his bedroom. Hermione lay sprawled on his fiery orange bed, books of various thicknesses surrounding her. She was facing away from him but the soft snoring sounds that filled the room told him that she was asleep. Ron entered carefully as not to wake her; he reached for the Cannon’s blanket on the ground and covered Hermione, and a few of her books. He turned and started for the door when Hermione made a low moaning sound, "Ron?"

She sat up rubbing her eyes, Ron’s breath caught in his throat. When she saw him she gasped. "Oh, I thought you wear a dream," she said a little sheepishly.

Ron opened his mouth but no words came out, he closed it, then tried again, "Oh… oh that…that’s ok."

Hermione smiled up at him. Ron could feel his ears burning, he turned to his dresser and fiddled with a wizards chess piece. He casually asked, "So what are you doing in here?"

"Oh, Ginny and Harry were using my room earlier. Surely you heard them?"

Ron turned back to her grinning. "You noticed that?"

"They weren’t exactly trying to hide it, Ronald. And why did they have to use my room, they have their own flat."

"They like the attention. Well, that’s my theory at least."

Hermione sighed. "Well they could have fought in any other room in this house. Anyways, I’ll just get out of your way." She began to pile all of her books into her lap until the stack reached her nose. When she tried to stand the stack tumbled to the floor, one enormous volume landing on Ron’s foot.

He muttered a word that would have earned him a stern reprimand had his mother been around. Hermione apologized while laughing at the sight of him jumping up and down on one foot. "I suppose I could have levitated them," Hermione said sweetly.

Ron looked at her like he wanted to strangle her. "Good…Idea," he ground out still holding his sore foot.

"Stop jumping around and come sit here on the bed," Hermione said in that bossy tone of hers. Ron listened thinking Wow, just like the old days. "Now give me your foot."

Ron again complied, gingerly lifting his foot to her lap. She carefully removed his sneaker and set it beside her on the bed. She then removed his sock. Ron saw her wince when she finally saw the damage that had been done. A giant bruise was blooming on the top of his foot. Ron tried to count the colors that were there; green, blue, and purple already decorated the area. Hermione lifted her fingers to lightly graze the top of it.

That was the scene Fred walked in on.

"What have we here, my dears? Why, Hermione, I didn’t know you had a foot fetish! Wanna see mine when you are done with Ronniekins?" Fred lifted his foot and wiggled it.

Hermione started to correct Fred but Ron cut it, "What do you want?"

Fred looked directly at Ron, "Oh, we have a problem."

"Prob-"

A voice shouted up the stairs, "Oh, Won-Won!"

"Bloody hell." Ron felt the blood drain out of his face. His eyes flew to Hermione’s; he could see that she was thoroughly confused.

---

Dinner that night was a tense affair for Hermione. No one seemed to be all that excited about their guest. Mrs. Weasley was the most changed; she was no longer the warm and welcoming person Hermione had come to love. Her movements were all jerky and abrupt and her demeanor was ridged. Every time the guest spoke she would grimace. Hermione thought it was most odd.

Across from Hermione at the table was Lavender Brown. She’s beautiful Hermione thought, I could never get my hair to flip like that.

She was suddenly filled with self-consciousness, a rarity for her. She wondered at it for a moment before Ron’s voice filled her ear and she knew why. Her feeling for Ron were rather confusing, a mixture of new and budding to old shadows that shifted and took shape in the back if her mind. She knew she liked him now and may have when she knew him before, and felt very possessive of him. And Lavender was treading a little too close for comfort.

Her wand seemed to burn in her pocket, begging to hex this female that was laughing so seductively at her Ron. Hermione growled low in her throat. Lavender widened her eyes innocently but Ginny looked like she was going to burst from the need to laugh. Ron and Harry looked at her in confusion while Fred and George made a game of searching the table for what ever could have possibly made that noise. Molly and Arthur ignored it.

Hermione straighten in her chair, looking as if nothing had happened. Throughout dinner she complemented Lavenders clothes, hair and jewelry all while wondering if she could get away with a hex or to without blame. Probably not after the growling incident. Oh well, this gives me time to think up a good one… For next time.

---

A few hours later found Hermione in the orchard practicing everything she’d learned in the last month, working off her excess tension. A twig snapped behind her and she turned to face Ginny, laughter dancing in her eyes. Hermione glowered at her before turning back to the small stone she had transfigured into a wristwatch. "Is she gone?" she finally asked.

"Lavender, you mean? She Floo-ed home a while ago, with Fred and George still checking under the table for a lion cub," Ginny lifted the watch to her look at its delecate features. "It’s an hour off. By the way, how many hexes and jinks did you think of to use on her?"

"Four hundred and twenty one."

"Really? I didn’t realize you knew that many already! But then again you are Hermione, I should not be surprised," Ginny said as she clasped the watch on her wrist.

"Oh, twenty �“one of those I are of my own invention, but I am positive they will work effectively."

Ginny burst out laughing and soon Hermione joined her. They were doubled over in no time, clutching their respective stomachs until they could laugh no more.

"We’d better go in," Hermione said some time later. "I have a lot to do."

"More jinxes to invent?"

"No. I have to read up on the study of practical uses of potions from the 13th century."

"Hermione," Ginny groaned. "You already know more than I do and you are going to study more? When will it stop?"

When I regain the knowledge I used to have. When I am me, the real me, once more.

---

A/N: So, how’d ya like it? What was your favorite part? What do you think will happen in the next chapter: Hunting? There will be a lot shorter wait for that one I promise!

Any suggestion? Leave them in your review, which of course you are all planning to leave :D! Until Next time, Cheerio!

Hermione sat on the floor of her bedroom at the burrow. All around her were books scattered, stacked, open and closed. Among the debris were papers with notes scrawled up and down. She looked at the chaos, that’s all it can be called she though, but smiled at the knowledge. This where she felt best, when she knew what that going on, when she was learning something new, this is where she felt at home, with her knowledge. Out side that bedroom door was a world she knew everything and nothing about. She knew the meaningless workings of it all but only felt a shadow of a connection to it.
 
If there was anything in the world she hated it was shadows. Shadows were doubts, and the unknown, shadows were knowledge she had yet to attain and most of all shadows were the memories she might never regain. Hermione let out a huff of air and tried to mentally push the shadows back. Here was her happy place and she was not going to share. She picked up the nearest book and began to read, Hogwarts, A History, for the twelfth time. You could never learn too much in her opinion.
 
Hermione had just reached chapter seven, Ghost of Hogwarts, when there was a resounding bang from the lower levels of the house. Living in the Burrow provided with a few surprises and strange happenings but this was not normal. It was the early hours of the morning and usually the quietest part of the day. Hermione cautiously left her room and headed below stairs holding her ward in front of her. Her entire body was on high alert, each hair stood up on the back of her neck. There was something wrong. She could feel every creak the staircase made vibrate on her nerve endings. She listened intently for sounds that were not of her making as she continued on, ready to face what was down there.
 
Suddenly there was a violent sound from behind her. Hermione swiveled around to see a body flying at her, she had no time to react, she closed her eyes and aimed “Petrificus Totalus”she yelled. It was quiet. Hermione opened her eyes to see a quite stunned Ron mid sprint half way between one stair and another. Gravity seem to take action then and Ron fell forward as if in slow motion. Hermione tried to grab him but his height and weight prevented her from saving him. Instead his momentum pulled her down the flight of stairs as well. They were a tangle of frozen and flailing limbs as they hit what felt like every stair.
 
When they finally stopped a full flight of stairs later, Hermione was seriously rethinking the automatic use of magic. She had bruises from head to toe, and was rather lucky she hadn’t been killed. She spent a minute on the ground, reviewing the damages to her body when a sound from the kitchen brought her back to the present.
 
She stood and edged closer to the kitchen door, “Ron,” she said in a panic, “there’s someone in there! What should we do?” Silence met her question. “Ron… Ron!” She looked around in confusion, it appeared he had disappeared, only to realize he was still petrified on the landing. She muttered the counter-curse and helped him to his feet. He huffed at her as he brushed himself off and she smirked at him, sleep-tousled hair and too short pajamas. He’s just too good for his own good, Hermione thought with a softening of her insides. Ron raised his head to find her staring at him.
 
“Uh, Hermione… Someone is in the house remember? Stop standing around!” he whispered.
 
“Right!” Hermione jumped. “… What do we do?”
 
“Get in there and see who it is first off,” Ron said matter-of-factly. He shook his head at her and thought, she may be the smartest girl , no, woman, ever but sometimes!
 
Hermione stiffened at the statement of the obvious. She edged her way closer to the door and peered in. She could see a fire roaring in the heart, the only thing that registered before Ron stepped behind her. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest and the pressure from his legs. She fought the urge to melt against him and continued to try to focus.
 
The light from the fire showed a tall, beefy figure in the room. She didn’t recognize it right off, nor did she after a moment or two. Ron however did. He muttered a curse that still would have gotten his ears boxed if his mother was around.
 
“What, Ron? Who is that?” Hermione asked anxiously.
 
“It’s-” A rather large bang, the largest so far, caught the end of Ron’s statement. Hermione turned back to the kitchen to see that the intruder had left his mark and the building, which shook in protest.
 
When it stopped the kitchen had been reduced to ruin. The table cracked, cabinets open and empty, their contents littered the floor and the water valve apparently broken as the sink was spewing water everywhere. It looked like a war zone.
 
The last noise and its subsequent movement seemed to be enough to wake Arthur and Molly, who rushed down to see what in the world had happened. Both of their mouth gaped at the damage, not that it couldn’t be quickly magicked back to normal. However, that such a venomous act could be committed in their house without their knowledge was disturbing.
“Son, what in the world happened here?” asked Arthur in a state of shock.
 
“Goyle. He never was the smartest egg in the hen house. Then again, this could be on purpose, with him you never know,” Ron said. “The only thing I know is that this isn’t good.”
 
Hermione and Mrs. Weasley stepped forward into the wreckage careful not to harm them selves on the debris. Even having watched it, Hermione still couldn’t believe that this had happened. Not in the happy home she had been part of for the last month. The Weasleys didn’t deserve this, not in a million years. And Hermione had the inkling feeling that this was somehow all her fault. Guilt consumed her.
 
“Oh, well I have been meaning to changing the color of the walls for ages now,” Mrs. Weasley joked.
 
The others let out a feeble laugh. All of them pulled out their respective wands and set to work repairing the kitchen. They worked together to tackle the larger problems such as the sink, table, and major burns to the floor and walls. It wasn’t until they were an hour into the project that they noticed it. ‘It’ being the words that were magically etched into the brick of the fireplace. They read : “Mudblood be warned”. Hermione was the one to find them, and it solidified the guilt in the pit of her stomach. She also noticed that the fireplace was otherwise undamaged, signaling that this had definitely be intentional.
 
Before she could think about it she tried to rid the wall of this unsightly blemish, but instead of leaving, the words just burned a bright red, to Hermione’s horror. Soon the other occupants of the room were alerted to their existence.
 
They swarmed like moths to a flame. It was a while before someone spoke again. “Well, now we know it was deliberate. Hmmm. I never knew that Goyle had it in him to do magic this advanced. I wonder if Harry will be hunting him,” Ron mused.
 
Hermione just stared and the words, feeling sick to her stomach. Everything that this family has done for her and everything it has been through and this is how they were repaid. A destroyed kitchen and ugly words marring their fireplace, they, of all people, did not deserve this and it was all her fault. Mrs. Weasley seemed to sense the direction of Hermione’s thoughts because she linked arms with her and said softly, “Don’t even think it. You are not at fault here. It’s those blasted Neo-Dark followers. You have done nothing to bring this on. So, now everyone back to work,” Mrs. Weasley now addressed her husband and son as well. “Arthur, you and Ron repair the wall and beams, but leave the paint to me. Hermione, you and I will clean the floors, they could also use a good mop.”

Neo-Darks were the newest order of pure-blooded enthusiasts who were banding together in an effort to rid the wizarding world of half-blood and Muggle born wizards and witches. So far they hadn’t gained a lot of attention, however people with connections to the ministry knew what had been happening, what had been covered up.

***
Ron stretched his sore muscles the next morning. Cleaning had lasted so long that he didn’t even have a time for a nap before work, in fact he barely had time to shower before Appareating to his office. He was the Assistant to the Head of Magical Games and Sports, a rather good job for a man who had missed his last year of wizarding school. Seeing as nearly half of the school had been missing for that year there was a summer catch up put into place, and exams on the 31st of August. He and Harry had done well enough to not have to attend for the actual school year.
 
He had yet to tell anyone of the incident the night before, though he was sure Ginny knew by now. She left the children under Mrs. Weasley’s care when she went to work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. But she often arrived early enough for a cup of tea and a chat with her mother. Then again if Ginny knew then Harry surely would and there would be nothing stopping Harry from coming straight to Ron demanding why he wasn’t called when the action started.
 
Ron shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused on the petition for a junior Quidditch league to be established in England, Ireland and Scotland. Interesting idea, he though as he pursued the document more thoroughly.
 
By lunch he and the Head had emptied half of the inbox even with the numerous memos zipping into the office. Ron was heading down to the dining hall, which was an imitation of the Hogwarts Great Hall. His food had just appeared before him when someone sat down beside him.
 
“Where do you get off not telling me something like that happened?” Harry demanded.
 
“You just found out? Being married to Ginny should have had you informed this early this morning. Being an Auror should have had the information on your desk by mid morning. What held you up?” Ron asked casually while examining his meat pie, it looked ok to eat. Sometimes when the cooks were angry the food would suffer.
 
“I was looking at the damage at the Burrow. I would have known sooner if you had just told me.”
 
“I would have told you if it had mattered. He was gone before anyone of us could do anything anyways, since Hermione had me in a Full-Body Bind and my parents are so used to noises that the small bangs didn’t faze them.”
 
“You still should have told me.”
 
Ron made a mm-hmm sound as he dug into his pie and the rest of the meal continued in silence.
***
An hour later Ron was in his office again looking over a report about skittish broomsticks when Harry ran into the office looking flustered. Ron put down the paper, he was beginning to get irritated. Harry shouldn’t be in his office, he should be off hunting for Goyle and other Neo-Darks, since that was his job.
 
“We talked about this Harry. I should have told you, okay, now stop being a git and pestering me about it,” he said.
 
“Ron…” Harry started. “it’s not that… it’s Hermione.”
 
“What about Hermione?” Ron demanded. When Harry hesitated he said more forcefully, “Tell me now!”
 
“Her-Hermione is missing Ron. She can’t be found anywhere!”
 
Ron felt a numb sensation fall over him, he almost felt as though he was floating. This can’t be happening, not when I’ve just found her again. Not again…
 
A/N: Well there you go, chapter five. What did you think? Chapter six: Return from La-La-Land will be the next installment. A Fragile Memory will return after this commercial break, so stay tuned.