Drying the last of the dishes, Hermione looked over the kitchen with a hollow satisfaction. She had spent the entire evening cleaning it, muggle style. There was a nice sense of routine to it, and it engaged her mind in a way that distracted her from her usual gloomy thoughts. She knew that everyone was worried about her, but since the end of the war, years ago, she just hadn't wanted to use magic for everyday things as much anymore. Magic had cost them all so much.

Turning off the lights, she recast half a dozen protective charms over the house, as was her routine every time she left a room. She felt a lot safer at Hogwarts than she did here, despite this being her home. Hermione made her way upstairs to her bedroom for a shower before bed, she didn't have the energy to do anything else today. Standing at her bedroom dresser, she took off her earrings and was about to slip out of her dress when she heard a floorboard creak. Spinning around, wand at the ready, her paranoid instincts kicked in. She positioned herself by the bed, in case she might need to grab the emergency portkey hidden inside her pillowcase. The room was empty. "Silly girl," she reprimanded herself, lowering her wand.

No sooner had she let her defences down did a figure spring from behind the bathroom doorframe, 'Dolor Exspuo!'

When Hermione awoke, Mrs Weasley was sat beside her hospital bed with a look of worry on her face. 'Hermione, dear, thank goodness you're awake!"

"Mrs Weasley, where am I?" Hermione asked. She knew this woman, she was kind, and caring, and she had looked after Hermione during her school holidays sometimes. But she wasn't quite sure how she knew her… perhaps she was an aunt? No, that couldn't be right, Hermione knew that her parents were muggles, and Mrs Weasley was a witch, like her.

"You're in St Mungo's dear."

St Mungo's. That was the magical hospital. She had been here several times before, it even looked familiar, but she wasn't sure why. "What happened to me?" she asked.

"You've had a bit of an accident, we don't know to what extent it has affected your-"

"My memory." Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, dear." Mrs Weasley said, sympathetically.

An elderly mediwitch pulled back the curtain around Hermione's bed. "Oh good, dearie, you're awake. You've been out cold for six days! What is the last thing you remember?"

"I was… I was cleaning my kitchen, and then I went upstairs, I was going to have a shower and go to bed early because my husband was working late and then… I don't remember anything after that."

"I see, I see. What year is it, dearie?"

"2003." Hermione answered, sure of herself.

"Very good. And how old are you?

"24 years old."

"Excellent"

"Do you remember where you went to school?"

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I work now. I was in Gryffindor, with my best friends, Lavender and Parvati."

Mrs Weasley raised an eyebrow. "And was school… eventful?"

"Not really," Hermione said, puzzled at the odd question. "I think… I think I took some of my exams late, I guess I was unwell in my final year. I can't quite recall."

Mrs Weasley and the mediwitch exchanged worried glances.

"And what have you done since school?" The mediwitch asked, her tone suddenly a lot less optimistic.

"I work at Hogwarts as an assistant professor of muggle studies. My husband works at the Ministry as an Auror."

"Well," said the mediwitch, "I think this is a case of selective memory erasure."

"As a result of the bump you had on your head," Molly added.

"Yes, of course, the bump," the mediwitch confirmed.

Hermione felt patronised, and suddenly very vulnerable. "Where is my husband, please? I want my husband," she requested.

"He's been by your side almost every minute, but he was summoned by The Order just this morning due to an emergency."

"What's The Order?" Hermione queried.

"Oh dearie. I think it best that we wait until your husband returns to explain things. In the meantime, I'll bring you some dinner, Mrs Malfoy."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled politely.

AN: This is the first thing I've written, so feedback is very welcome. I've got some direction in mind for the rest of the story, but am genuinely open to suggestions in terms of where the plot goes. I know that I'm not an incredible writer but I hope that continuing to write will improve that :) xxx