Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and related subjects. That's J.K. Rowling's job.
A/N: This is one of my favorite fic's to write, so be kind. No flames please, if any criticism, make it constructive.
"A yellow ribbon for your chestnut hair,
The moon would bow for your pretty stare;
And who would not love my darling?
And who would not love the one for whom I sing?
A yellow ribbon for your chestnut hair,
Your blue eyes cry, my darling.
Don't flush with shame, I love you so,
I had to leave you alone, forgive me.
And who would not love my pretty darling?"
Hermione awoke with a start. Jesus…What the hell is that song? Who is singing it? Why can't I remember?! Hermione looked around her settings, nervously pulling up the newspapers and dirty comforters around her. It was a cold day in London, and the only shelter Hermione had was a cardboard box.
The cobblestone beneath her was only covered by a thin layer of old paper. Hermione began to finger it, and then was distracted by her hand. It was covered in a fingerless glove. She began to toy around with her hands and came across a red and gold tattoo of a Griffin on her palm. I wonder what this tattoo means. Why have I got it? Who am I…? I don't know.
Hermione didn't know about anything. She didn't know what time it was, what day it was, where she was, or even who the Prime Minister was. If she didn't know those things, how could she know who she was?
Time drifted by and Hermione fell back asleep in the freezing cold with newspapers tucked around her. While she was sleeping restlessly, she was dreaming of a black haired boy with green eyes and glasses. While his face darted around in her mind's eye, the Ribbon Song was playing.
Hermione tossed and turned and hit her head on the cobblestones. As soon as she did so, the boy's face turned into an image of the tattoo on her palm, dancing around in her head in tune to the Ribbon Song. There's got to be a connection.
"Who the Hell am I?!?!" she awoke screaming. "Shut the fuck up! People are trying to sleep!" a voice from an upper story window yelled. Hermione sighed and leaned her head against the cardboard wall. Tears began falling down her face as she thought, Who is that boy? What does that symbol mean? Who am I?"