disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
dedicated to: Teddy (teddylupin-snape), for being my amazing wifey, and my superb Captain. :D Hopefully things will even out soon!
written for: If You Dare, Weasley Family Bootcamp, NextGen Era, Quidditch League Competition - Round 5 (Appleby Arrows, for gote), Summer Modly Competition of Awesomeness - Flying (Option B).
House: Hufflepuff
Wand: Hippogriff Talon, Elm, 11½ inches
Score: [please PM me the detailed score]
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She's easily broken, but it takes much for her to shatter.
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She holds herself together until a few weeks after the battle. It's had a long time coming, this darkness, this confusion, this insanity she's held inside. It unfurls out of her gradually, coming out slowly in a stream of dark smoke that stings his eyes.
They've all been through a lot, much more than they should have been through. Blood has shed that should not have. Knives thrown that should not have been. But he can ease the pain by thinking of her - so tough, so beautiful. He's perhaps the proudest he's ever been now, watching as she glides into the Great Hall. She holds herself so highly, daring anyone to say that she has not earned this.
This. His family, her family, Harry, smiles through tears. Ron thinks in that moment, that it was all worth it, maybe, now that she is safe and they are safe and they're alive.
They're alive, and together, and things have gone the worst they possibly can, and so now things will only get better.
If only he knew.
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Hermione had felt it from the beginning, from the instant Bellatrix's spell had hit her. It'd grown bigger and bigger, blooming in her chest like a great balloon, and it just when she'd thought it would pop, it had only grown more.
It spread through the rest of that year, and it was a challenge to make it through so far, to the battle. Ron's presence had helped, but... somethings can't be healed.
The only time she'd felt truly crazy was during the battle, when all she could think was duck - dodge - hit - kill, and Harry - Ron - everyone - stay alive.
After, she'd been fine, until an ominous May 17th, and that's when the entire story spills.
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According to the Healers, it is entirely possibly that this is only temporary, that Hermione will somehow manage to fix herself.
"That's a load of crap," Ron says. "If she could do that, she'd have done it already."
"Maybe she wasn't able," they counter. "Maybe when Mrs. Lestrange went that extra mile, and pushed too far, she wasn't able to function."
"She's Hermione bloody Granger," Ron retorts. "She'll function you right up, buddy." This comment is the one that sends him out of the room, although she will say later that he'd deserved a booting from the start.
When her boyfriend leaves, the woman in question sits up a bit more, less afraid to tell them what she'd wanted to from the start - that they are wasting their time.
"My condition is only worsening over time," she informs them slowly, eyeing all the reactions she's receiving. "I'm losing myself, and if my calculations are correct, I should be gone in a month."
A thousand questions are asked, but only one rises to her brain, demanding an answer. "What do mean, losing yourself?"
"I mean," Hermione clarifies, standing up, "that I'm drowning, and I can't tell dark from light anymore."
She walks out of the door. The Healers look at each other, and reach an understanding in the blink of an eye.
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She's put in Extensive Care, as they call it. It's two weeks since that first visit, and suddenly the entire Wizarding world knows of her condition.
Flowers are sent, each and every day. His family visits, her family visits, the D.A., the Order, and many, many more visit, until the faces blur together.
The Weasleys stick out, with their bright hair and expressions that are never as happy as she'd like; George is better, though, and Mrs. Weasley has finally managed to keep the tears inside. Harry and Ginny are together again - they like to think inconspicuously, but they're wrong. They are always lingering, hands not touching, lips not connecting, but the presence of the other is there all the same.
Harry, her parents, Neville, Luna, and the remaining members of the Order are all else she holds onto. She hopes that she'll remember Harry. His laugh, his arm around her, all the moments when she thought he could become a part of her family. Neville, too, and Luna's fingers interlocked with his, her babbling on, him simply watching, fascinated.
Kingsley's deep monotone, to help her keep calm, and the way that Professor McGonagall seems to only become taller when grief should force her shoulders down.
She wants to take these things, and hold them inside her forever. Most of all, though, she wants to hear Tonks' chirping laugh, or Sirius' insistence that things will turn out fine, or Dumbledore's odd words ("tweak").
She wants to see Fred's grin, Remus' bittersweet smile, and even Snape's grumbling would be appreciated on bad nights, to try and retain that familiar feeling of knowing who you are and where you're going.
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Perhaps she isn't brilliant anymore, but she is still headstrong.
"I'm dying." Her announcement is only heard by Ron, who is sitting by her bed. He bristles.
"Could you not say things like that, please?" His voice is rough, with anger or tears, she's not sure.
"It's true," Hermione answers, feeling a twinge of guilt, for throwing the words out so freely.
"It's not." He takes her by the shoulders. "You are not dying."
"I'm slipping, then," she amends. She hadn't wanted to cry, but here he is, making tears fall.
"And I'll catch you," Ron promises, but she has long since realized that promises mean nothing.
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She's slipping, indeed.
The entire process happen slowly, but the brunt of it goes by in a few heavy, sorrowful moments, in which Hermione watches it all pass her by, and then loses it.
A flash of bubblegum, a glimpse of red, a pair of broken glasses, a bird on fire, and a long, jovial laugh. That is all she's left with.
The next day, the Healers let it out to the public (the confirmation, not another rumor): Hermione Granger Insane, Memory Gone.
She doesn't feel insane, however. She feels normal, actually, though she could live without all the knocks on the door.
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A nice-looking boy walks into her room the next day. He's wearing dark robes that match well with his teal eyes. The shocking red hair seems a bit out of place at first, but she quickly becomes accustomed to it.
"Hullo," the boy - man - says. He seems shy.
"Hullo," Hermione answers. "Do I know you?"
She thinks, for an instant, that she sees years of pain cross his face; but then he smiles charmingly, his true emotions showing only in the corner of his eyes.
"Not yet," he tells her. "But you will." He takes a deep breath. "I'm Ron."
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She didn't forget, exactly. It was there the entire time, pushed back a little too far from her reach.
She isn't utterly insane, like Neville's parents. She's lost her memory - she'll never get it back - but she also retains her pride, which enables her to go through life as if she never left it.
In the natural order of things, everything stays the same. Ron and Hermione are married one day, her thinking she's a Muggle, taking in the wizardry of it all, and wishing to be a part of that world.
She is, though. Hermione just can't remember.
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a/n: please don't favorite without reviewing, thanks!
I have no idea what I just wrote, but it's 1am on a Monday.. reviews are appreciated. :)