Chapter one: Memory loss

It was a glorious day.

When Hermione woke up, the window she'd left open the night before was letting in the sweet summer breeze that had brought her out of her dreams. Strange dreams, that she'd been having for the better part of six months. She woke up in a perfect temperature, not too warm with the window open, and not too cold with her dog cuddling with her. Too bright sunlight came through the curtains that blew in the breeze and a smell permeated the air- telling her that Mara was making breakfast. Not to mention Padfoot was nudging her forcefully, trying to tell her he was hungry and she needed to get food so she could give him scraps.

"I'm awake," she laughed, trying to fight off the affections of the large dog. Hermione sat up in bed to pet him, smiling fondly when he lay on his back demanding stomach rubs. "I had the dream again, Pads."

He whined, rolling back over to show support. Sometimes, she would swear he understood her. Now, he seemed to be telling her he was there to talk to.

"You were in it," she sighed, getting out of bed and walking over to shut the window. "But, you weren't you. You were a person, and I was saving you. It was the strangest thing. And, I would swear it felt more like a memory."

She'd closed one of the french window pieces, leaning her head on the other as she looked over the garden. Padfoot came over and nuzzled her hand, which she pet his head with.

"Well," she said. "We'd better get down to the kitchen before Mara comes up for us."

Hermione had known Mara her entire life, Mara being Hermione's nanny from the day she was born. As Hermione grew up, going off to school, Mara never left- going from nanny to general housekeeper and friend.

"Pancakes," Mara sang, placing a plate in front of Hermione. "Your favorite. And for you, Sir Padfoot, bacon. Just for you."

Padfoot barked appreciatively and Hermione grinned, grabbing her fork before tensing and looking around expectantly. Mara caught her looking and smiled understandingly. "They're both already gone."

She relaxed. "What was it today?"

"Your father snores."

Hermione sighed. Her parents had been fighting uncontrollably lately, as though a dam had broken and they suddenly couldn't stand each other. Any day she expected the news that one of them were finally filing for divorce. She could guess that they hadn't done so for her sake, and while she appreciated the consideration, she wished they would just get it over with.

"Oh well," Hermione said, a mouth full of food. "I have you and Padfoot. What else do I need? Maybe the three of us should just get a place together. I can get a job at the library, I'm sure. Every time I'm there, they ask me when I'm going to apply. I might as well."

Mara snorted. "So your mother can accuse me of stealing her daughter? The only reason I'm still here is because of your dad. And he only keeps me here to spite her."

"Doesn't that bother you? You raised me at least as much as they did. And, I'm of age. It doesn't matter what they think."

"You're not eighteen for another few months, Hermione," Mara reminded gently, looking at her worriedly.

She frowned. "Oh. Right. That's- what I meant, of course. Look, I-I'm not all that hungry anymore. I think I'm just going to go out for a while."

Mara gave her another of her strange looks. "Alright, but be careful. There was another family murdered the other day. Bobbies say there was no sign of struggle, that they might have known their killer. Keep to yourself."

"Muggles murdered in the middle of the day, Albus. It's getting worse." Hermione didn't know who Albus was, but it wasn't all too unfamiliar with their voices- or the suddenness they came in.

Confused, and feeling as though she were losing her mind, Hermione got down from the stool. Padfoot looked at her and back to his half eaten plate with a whine, but he still followed her back to her room where she plopped herself on her bed.

"It's getting worse," she groaned. "I mean, what was that? I honestly had a moment where I thought seventeen was legal. I think something's wrong with me. Maybe I need to go to a doctor."

She stood and went over to her bookshelf, pulling something from it and flipping through its pages. Padfoot lay patiently on her bed and watched her pace as she read from it.

"See, here, it says that memory loss could be a concussion, but I would think I'd remember that. Or, stress. The only thing stressing me is the fact that I'm going mad. Seasonal depression, alcoholism, epilepsy- none of these apply."

She closed the book with a snap and set it back on the shelf to grab another. "Dreams," she said, "There's nothing in here about dreams where your dog turns into a person. Dog can mean loyalty, your best friend- well you are my best friend. Fighting like cats and dogs, I suppose it could symbolize my parents, but that still doesn't explain it."

Hermione brightened. "Stars! You were named after a star! Let's see... wishful thinking or high aspirations."

Padfoot watched as she stared at the book for a minute, her jaw clenched, before she threw the window open and tossed the book out of it. She didn't know why she was looking in that book for answers. It was all a load of dung. Reading your dreams. Hermione remembered a doctor's card she'd come across, fumbling for it in a small box of such things she had. Dr. Gregori was a psychologist, and while she normally would have put as much belief in that as she did star gazing, it was the last thing she could think of.

For six months she'd looked for answers, calling doctors and the like all over London. There had to be something wrong for her to be acting so strangely. There just had to be.

"Okay, Pads. Let's go find Dr. Gregori."

*

It seemed that Dr. Gregori had no real practice, though she had researched to be sure that he did have the right qualifications. He worked out of his home, trying to get the money to open his own office. It was a nice house, in one of the many suburbs outside of London with green shutters and a red door. It struck Hermione for a moment, that those two colors were not supposed to be together. They were enemies. She shook her head out of the familiarly strange line of thought to go up the steps onto the porch. It was stupid, coming to a stranger's house with no one knowing what she was doing. At least she had Padfoot. He'd protect her, she was sure. So she knocked firmly.

She had expected an older, slightly portly man, with a beard perhaps. But not a tall, skinny man with glasses who couldn't possibly be old enough to have the qualifications she'd found under his name. This must have shown on her face because he gave a sigh that seemed to say he was used to it.

"I'm thirty four," he said tiredly. "And yes, I really am the psychologist. Please, come in- dog may come in too if he leaves my cat be."

Hermione cautiously followed him into the house, him having disappeared out of sight. "I didn't mean to be rude."

"They never do." He came back into the room to lead her to a sitting room, a fluffy cat relaxing in a patch of sun on the table. Hermione glanced at Padfoot nervously, but he seemed completely at ease. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you, Dr. Gregori."

"Gre-GOR-i," he corrected absently, as though he were used to doing so. "Please, sit."

"You're saying it wrong," she heard herself say, the words echoing in her ears as though from a distant memory or dream. Or a dream of a dream. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the gar nice and long."

"You do it then," she heard a boy's voice say back. "If you're so clever."

She didn't get to hear if she'd done whatever it was, as Dr. Gregori shook her out of whatever it was- a worried expression on his face. When her awareness came back, his worry turned into thoughtful.

"Where were you?" He asked, referring to her zone out and motioning for her to sit down.

"I don't know," she told him, taking a seat on the edge of an armchair. Her answer didn't seem to settle him, making the lines of consideration in his face grow deeper.

"I see," he said, still obviously in thought. "What can I do for you, Miss?"

"Granger, sir. Hermione Granger. Well, it's a bit strange. I'm not quite sure how to put it."

He rolled his eyes. "An hour ago I had a man in here that thought he was the reincarnate of Cleopatra," he said flatly. "Just tell me."

She glanced to where Padfoot had a supportive head laid on her knee. "Well, it started six months ago."

"What started?" He asked, pulling a notebook out of his pocket.

"Strange dreams," she said, feeling insane as she did so. "Strange dreams that make no sense and feel more like memories. Something will happen and I hear voices, half of the time they're my own- saying things I don't understand. I've been having memory loss-"

"What kind of memory loss," he interrupted, jotting things down quickly in his notebook without looking at her.

"This morning I would have sworn that seventeen was the legal age. Someone had to remind me."

At this, he glanced up at her with a look she couldn't identify. "Really? And, what was it a few moments ago?"

She looked away, picking at something on her shirt, and told him about the voices she'd heard. He didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "And your dreams that are more like memories. Tell me about one of them."

"Well," Hermione said slowly. "Last night I had the dream that Padfoot, that's my dog, was a man. In my dream, he turned back and forth between man and dog and I was trying to save him from falling."

"Falling?"

"Yes, into, well I can't really describe it, you see. It was sort of like an empty archway." Padfoot whined next to her, listening to every word and looking concerned. "And, I can't explain why, but I know that the veil is bad."

He narrowed his eyes. "Veil?"

Hermione frowned at herself. "Yes. I don't know why I just called it that. It just slipped out."

"I see." He took his glasses off and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

Her voice was back in her head, in that faraway manner it always came in. "You've broken your glasses again, Harry. Here. Oculus Reparo."

"Now, what happened six months ago?" Gregori asked, bring her back again.

"Nothing," she said. "Well, I found Padfoot. And, my parents started fighting around that time."

He looked like he'd expected something more. "And your dog- Padfoot, you said?- is he usually in these strange dreams?"

She shook her head. "No. In fact, I think this is the first but I've had others with that man. It's going to sound strange, but there's usually a castle in them. Or, one of a group of people that I don't actually know. People I've never met. The next morning I can remember their faces, and I can sometimes remember their voices, but never their names."

Harry. Find Harry.

Hermione frowned at the thought that came suddenly, the first of its kind. Her seemingly ever present migraine came back, making Hermione press two fingers to her temples. It was getting worse. Things were getting worse, and she had to find Harry. Whoever that was.

"Miss Granger? Are you with me?"

"I notice you spend a great deal of time with Miss Granger. I wondered if-"

"Oh, no. Hermione's brilliant, and we're friends, but no." Harry. That was Harry.

Hermione stood up, slowly and somewhat disoriented, feeling as though the world was turning on an exaggerated tilt. "I-I have to go. I have to find-"

Find Harry.

"Harry," Hermione whispered to herself, her headache pulsing and crescendo-ing with what sounded like an ocean wave breaking in her mind.

"Harry, no way. You heard what Madame Hooch said. Besides, you don't even know how to fly."

She felt Padfoot nudge her carefully, as though understanding that something was wrong. She stumbled, catching herself on the fireplace and staring at it- halfway expecting there to be a fire there.

"I have to go," she heard herself say in real time, rushing through the house and back to the door in something of a daze.

"Wait! Let me help you!"

"Draco, years ago I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please let me help you."

"I don't want your help!"

"P-Padfoot. I can't- they won't stop coming."

Padfoot led her away from Gregori, down the block to the metro where she leaned on a lamp post. Her head had never hurt so bad, in all the past six months since she'd gotten the headache. People were getting off the train and walking up the stairs she was next to. She felt herself slip from the lamp post and bump into one of the passerbys.

Two hands grabbed her to keep her from falling and helped to steady her. When she looked up, she gasped. "I know you," she said before she could stop herself.

He was tall and willowy, as though a strong wind might blow him over, with dark circles under his eyes and lines of scars on his face- some of them very fresh and most that had obviously been there for years. When she spoke to him, his light green eyes widened and he obviously seemed to recognize her.

"How do I know you?" She asked, her eyebrows pulling together. "But, I do. I know you."

"I-I'm sorry," he said in a voice she most definitely recognized. He looked around as though he expected someone, and his eyes found Padfoot- who's tail was wagging and he was whining and barking with purpose.

Hermione glanced down at him. "What's wrong, Pads?"

"P-Pads?" the man asked, startled.

"His name is Padfoot."

Once again, his eyes widened. "I-I never thought... they all said it was hopeless... that you wouldn't remember anything..."

Hermione pulled away, blushing as she saw that they were still in an awkward position. "What are you talking about? Who- how do I know you?"

"My name is Remus Lupin." Once again, the voices were there. Hers, and another she recognized as having heard before, and an onset of people she thought sounded familiar.

"Who d'you suppose that is?"

"Professor R.J. Lupin."

"You know everything! How is it that she knows everything."

"It's on his suitcase, Ronald."

More voices. An older man, the one she'd heard earlier. "First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who's kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, professor."

"Professor," she whispered. "You-you were a professor."

His face paled. "We have to get you out of here," he said, punctuated by an encouraging bark from Padfoot. "Sirius, lead us somewhere we can Apparate from. They'll be coming for her soon enough."

With another bark, Padfoot ran off through the busy streets. The man, Remus Lupin, pulled Hermione by the hand after him. She almost tripped several times, her vision making a tunnel that pulsed in and out.

"I-I can't," she said, making him slow down. "I-it's so dizzy."

But as she was thinking to herself she couldn't run anymore, he pulled her into an alley behind Padfoot and she slumped against a wall.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. But we must leave. There are people that will be after you."

Hermione turned, "H-how do you know my name?"

He didn't answer, pulling her harshly to him and placing a hand on Padfoot's shaggy head. She was in no position to fight him away, feeling her head pound harder and her vision get darker. She was going to pass out. No, wait, Padfoot-

There was a loud Crack! and Hermione felt as though she were being turned inside out before her feet touched solid ground again and she promptly vomited all over a swampy yard she now found herself in. Someone was compassionately holding her hair back for her and rubbing her back until she finished. Padfoot was nudging her with his nose, whimpering.

"What the bloody hell was that?" She demanded, whirling around to her captor. "Who do you think you are?! Where- where are we? How did you do that?"

"Welcome," he said sadly, "back to the Burrow."

A/N: So, it's a new one, I know. But I'm really proud of it and honestly, I have limited other options until I get my own computer back. Everything on my thumb drive is old because I'm stupid and saved everything to the computer itself. But, when I do get it back I will update everything I have saved. Until then, this. Which I'm actually quite proud of.

Mia.