A/N: I'm currently working on the next chapter of Eden, in case anybody was curious and going to mention it. This is a new short one from me which will consist of seven parts. Here's the first. Hope you enjoy reading it and will leave me a review. :)

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.

That Swedish Thing

When Hermione woke on the morning of March fourteenth, she knew within five minutes of opening her eyes that she had lost total control of her life.

Stark white walls and blinding sunlight greeted her and though she still felt groggy, her brain latched onto her surroundings and immediately identified the room as one belonging in St. Mungo's Hospital. That deduction automatically led to questions of why she was in the hospital and how she came to be there, but her mind refused to supply the answers.

Glancing around in search of her wand, she took in the full scope of her predicament. Finding no wand or any clothes, Hermione was just about to pull the help cord when familiar voices floated in from the cracked doorway.

The only two phrases she could make out were "that Swedish thing" and "naïve do-gooder girls" in Harry's voice before her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, turned the corner and entered her room. They instantly quieted once they saw her up and about, and before she could ask them anything to do with what they were discussing, they were upon her, all smiles and attentiveness.

"Hermione! We weren't sure when you'd wake up!"

"Yeah, Hermione! We were really worried! How are you feeling?"

Quite used to this sort of behavior from both boys, Hermione waved them off until they retreated from her personal space enough to her liking. Harry and Ron gazed at her with open, eager expressions of delight at having the female third of their trio back to complete the circle, but this apparent joy served only to fuel Hermione's perplexity to greater heights.

"I'm fine, but -" she started off haltingly.

A frown creased Harry's brow at her noticeable reluctance. "What? But what? What is it?" he practically demanded.

The former Head Girl felt a trickle of unease slide down her spine at his tone, and she wondered at its source. She'd never had a reason to fear Harry or Ron before. "I can't remember anything. What happened? Why am I in the hospital in the first place?"

Harry and Ron shared a dark look before the latter entered into the conversation. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Hermione worked her brain over furiously as she thought. "I remember being on my way home from work; it was the day we settled the Anderson claim and I owled Lavender to let her know I consented to being a bridesmaid in her wedding," she spoke slowly, trying to squeeze every last detail from the memory directly preceding her sighting of the hospital room. "I turned the corner and passed Wendy's Wares, that antique shop down the street from my flat, and was just about to climb the stairs to my door and then, nothing."

"Do you remember the date?" It seemed as if a fire had been lit behind Harry's emerald eyes as he asked the question, and Hermione once again mysteriously felt tendrils of anxiety creep over her.

Her eyes narrowed as she chewed his question over in her mind. "It was sometime in late October, not quite Halloween festivities time yet. The twentieth, if I'm not mistaken."

The mouth of each boy took a downward turn at her admission. Harry clasped her hand in his own, his skin hot to the touch, making beads of perspiration break out across the hairline at her temples, both from the heat and the way her two best friends were now surveying her through stony eyes.

"Hermione, it's mid-March now. You were missing for nearly five months."

Hermione felt all the blood drain from her face leaving her skin deathly white. "Missing?" she asked in a choked whisper, feeling tears begin to bubble up in the corners of her eyes. "For five months?"

Harry and Ron again shared a look and Hermione had the distinct feeling it was over how much they would tell her about her disappearance. An entire spectrum of feeling seemed to pass between them at that moment and she could only guess at what the outcome would be. When the redhead finally gave a nod, she knew some sort of agreement had been reached and they turned back to face her, the perfect picture of solemnity.

"You were kidnapped by a former Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov. I suppose he held a grudge against you for his capture after the Department of Mysteries battle and he came looking for you when he escaped from Azkaban, but that's over now. He's back in prison where he belongs and you're back with your friends and safe."

Harry seemed rather proud of himself after this explanation, but Hermione didn't notice. The only thing she was able to focus on was the dawning horror his words had brought on as tears fell freely down her cheeks.

"I was kidnapped? But how? What did he do to me? Why can't I remember anything?" Her voice softened with each question, eventually trailing off altogether as her mind scrambled to connect what Harry and Ron were telling her with reality.

Harry squeezed her hand where it lay forgotten in her lap, her eyes staring blankly forward. Ron crossed to the other side of the room and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry. You weren't harmed in any way." He and Harry shared another meaningful glance after that statement, but Hermione was too lost in her own shock to take much notice.

"The memory loss is probably just a side-effect of the potion he was using to keep you under control," Harry tried to add helpfully. "We don't know what he was ultimately planning to do with you, but that's not a problem anymore." Harry's voice lowered until it was nothing more than a fierce growl. "He can't hurt you ever again."

Hermione dumbly nodded to indicate she'd heard.

After a few more comforting words met with no response, Harry and Ron made their goodbyes promising to visit as often as they could until she was cleared for release. Hermione watched them leave with saddened eyes before turning over and crying herself to sleep.

----

A week later, St. Mungo's drew up her discharge papers and she was on her way home.

Harry and Ron had kept their promise to visit by dropping in on her nearly every day to see how she was doing. Once, in the middle of the week, the entire Weasley clan had paid her a bedside visit to check on her progress.

After the initial shock had worn off, she'd tried to inquire more about her kidnapping from her best friends, but Harry and Ron disclosed nothing else besides what she'd already been told. It was like trying to fight a brick wall and having nothing but split knuckles to show for it.

Having a hole in her memories didn't sit well with Hermione. It was a piece of her that was missing, and Harry and Ron didn't understand that she needed that piece back.

Maybe she was being paranoid.

Walking home from the hospital to her flat was strange not only because of the route, but because the world just seemed different now that she was missing five months. Normally, she'd walk home from the Ministry, where she held the job of Claims Inspector sorting through the complaints people had with the Ministry, and she'd be admiring the shops and people along the way, but all she could imagine were the things that lurked in the shadows now that one had gotten her.

Had she not been careful enough? Had the war taught her nothing?

Perhaps she was just as guilty as the rest of the wizarding world since the end of the war, becoming lax in her need to be on guard at every moment. Times of peace made one rather unaware of their security.

Wendy's Wares came into sight and a bolt of melancholy raced through her as she passed. Hermione had always liked the store, having found a mahogany end-table there earlier the past year, but it would forever be associated with the last memory she had before the hole.

The landing to her flat was just as she'd remembered except for one difference. The mailbox set out for her Muggle correspondence was overflowing with letters. Considering she still had a place to live, Hermione assumed she had Harry and Ron to thank for taking care of everything while she'd been missing.

Gathering up her mail in both arms, she ascended the stairs to her third floor flat while she fished the key out of her pockets, trying not to drop any letters in the process.

The flat was just as she'd left it. Every book, magazine, folder, and paper was where she remembered them being and a sigh escaped her at the sight. If she let herself believe it, she could pretend that she'd never been gone.

Denial is not where you want to be right now, Hermione. Not really.

Deciding to listen to herself instead of letting her fear overtake her, Hermione moved around the room looking for any owls she might have received in her absence. Finding none, she concluded that Harry or Ron must have collected them to return to her at a later date.

Fatigue started settling in, having not been able to sleep very well in the hospital, and Hermione decided a nap was in order. She headed towards the bedroom at the back of the flat when a distinct popping noise from said room caused her to freeze. She heard it once more and then silence descended over the flat.

Hermione, her heart going double-time, crept up to the door quietly and swung it open abruptly hoping to startle anything or anyone that might have been snooping around her personal space. Her actions only uncovered an empty room, the wind lightly blowing in from the open window.

The former Head Girl let herself relax from the adrenaline rush and took several deep breaths before her heartbeat resembled somewhere close to normal. That's when she noticed it.

A small package, about the size of her fist, had been placed on top of her bed sheets.

Overcome with curiosity and not thinking of her safety, she moved towards it and lifted it from its resting place at the foot of the bed. It was plainly wrapped in brown paper, a red bow being its only embellishment. For some reason, the setup seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn't for the life of her say why.

Hermione, unable to hold off any longer, divested the package of its wrapping to reveal a black velvet jewelry box underneath with a ring inside.

The ring was beautiful, a princess-cut diamond solitaire with a platinum setting, but it was not in any way unique. No inscription or specially created band. Nothing to set it apart or make it extraordinary. It looked like a million other rings in jewelry stores around the world.

It was what came with it that was priceless.

Hermione touched the ring and remembered.

She remembered everything.

tbc...

A/N: The next part will be up soon. Don't forget to review. :P