Thank You as always for the wonderful reviews...you guys do wonders for my poor self esteem :)

Usual disclaimers apply, just borrowing these incredible characters. Here's chapter 4 for your reading pleasure :)

Chapter Four

By the time we got back to the B&B, I had calmed down a bit, with just the odd sniffle every now and then. "Great!" I hissed, turning the door knob. "The silly old bat has locked us out!" I was about to kick the door out of frustration, when Harry grabbed my sleeve and pulled me away.

"Come here. No point in upsetting her. She's scary enough when she's not upset," he muttered as he pulled me behind a hedge near the corner of the house and apparated us directly into our room.

I let go of his hand and began to pace around the room in agitation. Now that Ron wasn't in my sight I thought I'd be able to see things more clearly, that I could think about things logically. But, I was blinded by this pure conflict of emotions. Seeing the husband you presumed was gone forever, the husband you still loved just as much as the day you married him, and yet he didn't recognise you at all, it hurt, it hurt dreadfully.

"I'll erm, I'll make us some tea," Harry decided, watching me edgily, waiting for me to lose it completely. Only when he saw the state of the little kettle in the room and the tea cups beside it, he quickly changed his mind. "Eurgh," he grimaced, prodding at the brown gloop in the bottom of one of the cups with his wand. "I erm…like what you did with the rest of the place," he commented, glancing at the much better looking bed and the brighter décor.

I stopped my pacing and turned to glare at him. I wasn't in the mood to be discussing interior design.

He sat down then with a tired sigh and rested his elbows on his knees to prop up his head. "I'm sorry, I just…I don't know what to say."

I huffed loudly and threw myself down on the bed, thumping the mattress with my fist. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," I admitted, my voice muffled by the duvet. "I mean," I turned my head so he could hear me better, and to be honest the duvet smelt bad. "I know what Max told us, but all the time I was hoping he was mistaken, that he hadn't really lost his memory. Or…that he'd eventually see us and the shock would jolt him back. But you saw him Harry, his expression was blank – he hadn't a clue who we were." I sighed and buried my face into the bed again, regretting it when I remembered the horrid stench, and sat up instead, leaning back against the head board.

"I know," Harry understood. "Guess I thought he might have shown some recognition too. But, there really was nothing there. How do you think it happened? I mean…was it a spell or…"

"If it had been a spell, magic should be able to fix it, but Max said they've tried all that. My best guess is it was probably when he fell through that barn roof." I kicked off my shoes. "Max said something about a beam having fallen on him – it probably hit him on the head. Amnesia can sometimes happen in head injuries. How do you think he ended up here anyway?"

Harry shrugged and got up to pace the room, wandering to the window and looking out. "The battle was pretty full on. None of us were prepared for it - was only meant to be a stake out. Plus, there were more of them than we expected. The last we saw, he was two against one, so it's possible he could have got himself cornered, panicked and disapparated away. If he was injured before that I suppose his concentration could have been off. I don't really know, I don't suppose we ever will." he turned to look at me sadly. "Do…do people who, you know, have amnesia. Do they ever get their memory back?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, willing the tears to stay back – I'd done enough crying. "Sometimes," I shrugged, hesitantly. "I mean…it's rare for the memory to be gone this long. But…it's possible it could still come back. His memories might just be in brief snatches though, visions of things he's done and of his past. But not the way you or I remember everything. I don't really know."

"Perhaps if we can get him home, get him around familiar people? Take him to St Mungo's?" he suggested hopefully.

"Yes, but how do you convince him to come back with us? We're strangers to him, complete strangers. I can't just drag him back to the marital bed and say, oh by the way, we're married – here's your kids! Oh Merlin's pants! The kids!" I shot up off the bed. "How the hell do I tell them that the daddy I told them would never come home, is now back?" That was it – the tears began to fall again and I gave in to the huge heaving sobs.

"Oh, Hermione," Harry hugged me. "I'm so sorry, you don't deserve this."

"None of us deserved any of this," I sniffed, rummaging in my pocket for a tissue. Harry found one first and handed it to me.

"It's clean," he promised, with a wry smile.

I took it from him gratefully and dabbed at my eyes. "I mean, haven't we suffered enough? We sacrificed our damn childhoods, lost far too many friends and loved ones and went through hell. And now this? Life can be so bloody cruel!" I blew my nose.

"I know, you'd think the universe owed us plenty of happiness, right?" He gave a humourless laugh. "Look, I'll stay here tonight if you want. We can just talk and…I'll find us something decent to drink from somewhere. Or…"

"No, you go home to Ginny. She'll be waiting to hear from you no doubt. But, please don't tell my kids anything. Not yet."

"Course I won't. You sure you don't want me to stay?"

I shook my head. "Might be nice to be alone and have a damn good cry and it won't be pretty," I warned him.

Harry smiled and found me another tissue. "Okay then. I'll come back in the morning and…hopefully we can speak to him together. Perhaps pending some time with us, it might jog his memory or something."

"We can hope Harry. That's about all we can do." I sighed.

After he'd left, I got ready for bed, transfiguring the bedding into something that smelt much more pleasant and fell into a restless sleep.

The following morning I suffered the wrath of Mrs Wilson when I woke too late for breakfast. Harry wasn't even back yet, I suspected he was having a hard time trying to explain things to Ginny and prevent her from rushing out here as well.

"Breakfast is finished!" Mrs Wilson almost barked at me when I ventured out of the room.

"I, oh…yes. I'm sorry, I wasn't very hungry." I stuttered my apologies. Honestly, everything about this woman was far too reminiscent of the old toad, Umbridge at Hogwarts! Not a pleasant reminder at any time of the day, let alone first thing in the morning.

"Huh," she grunted. "Di'nt hear you come in last night."She commented. "An' you need to pay for the room an'all," she added.

"Yes, of course, I'll bring it right down. Actually, can we book for another couple of nights?" I asked, trying to be polite even though she did nothing to deserve manners.

"How long you wanting to stay for?" she queried, almost backing me into a corner.

"Erm…" I tried to think of an answer. I mean, how long did it take to convince your husband that he was in fact your husband and that he needed to come home to his family, when he didn't remember any of us? "Until the end of the week?" I suggested. If we needed to stay longer than that, we'd have to work something else out.

She grunted again. "Payment up front, 'fore you go out today," she warned.

"Okay, that's fine," I turned and headed back up stairs to the room, before I lost my temper with her. Thankfully when I walked through the door, Harry was back.

"Oh Thank God!" I sighed. "I just had a run in with old Umbridge downstairs!"

"Umbridge?" Harry looked alarmed and pulled out his wand.

"I meant Mrs Wilson, doesn't she remind you of her?"

"Oh." He relaxed and put his wand away. "Yeah, a bit I suppose." He rubbed his forehead. He looked tired, as though he'd had even less sleep than me – and I'd spent half the night tossing and turning.

"Come on," I decided, picking up my bag. "Let's go see if we can get a decent cup of coffee anywhere.

Thankfully, the local pub, which seemed to be the only eating establishment in the village, were still serving breakfast for another hour when we got there. I ordered scrambled eggs on toast, whereas Harry went for the full English.

"How were Rosie and Hugo?" I asked him, after we'd ordered and picked up my coffee cup. I felt so guilty for going away and leaving them. With their father gone, I rarely left them over night, unless they stayed over at The Burrow – which they loved.

"I didn't see them. They were all in bed when I got home last night, then I left before they were up this morning. Figured it would be best not to see them and upset them again. Ginny said they're fine though, they soon settled down after we left."

"That's good," I smiled, pleased to know they weren't still upset. "And…how was Ginny?" I wondered. Harry still looked tired, but the coffee had perked him up some.

Harry groaned and hung his head in his hand. "I think I spent half the night arguing with her." he admitted,

"I'm sorry," I apologised, feeling this was all my fault.

"You know how she is. So head strong," he looked up and drank some more coffee. "She didn't believe one word about the amnesia thing and demanded to know why we hadn't just dragged him back home. Then she was all set for coming out here and having it out with him. It took me ages for her to see sense. This is going to be difficult enough, without her yelling at him. I mean…my wife scares me sometimes when she gets pissed off, but…imagine some irate, though beautiful, redhead screaming at you and you have no idea who they are?" He grinned wryly.

I laughed once, imaging the look on poor Ron's face. It was akin to the mortification I'd seen him go through when he'd once received a Howler from his mother whilst at school.

Our breakfast arrived then and we both tucked in eagerly. I was rather glad I had missed breakfast at the B&B this morning, judging from the smell coming from downstairs anyway. "Did she believe you in the end then?" I asked, after a few moments of concentrated munching. "Ginny I mean, that Ron has amnesia?"

"I think so. At least I made her promise not to come out here and leave us to deal with it. So long as we do everything we can to get him home," he added, spearing a sausage on his fork.

"Is she going to let anyone else know? I mean…like Molly?" I wondered, looking up at him as I nibbled on a slice of toast.

"Not yet," he spoke through a mouthful of sausage and shook his head. "I told her to let us speak to him first," he added once he swallowed. "I promised I'd tell her more tonight and we'll decide on what to do about Molly after that. Were you alright in that room last night by the way? I mean…you could always disapparate home, no one would know."

"It was fine, at least since I magically enhanced it all. And…well, I sort of like knowing he's so close. I know that sounds silly, but…" I shrugged and blushed a little.

"Not silly at all," he smiled compassionately across the table at me.

"Ah! I was hoping I'd find you in here!" We looked up to find Mr Bridges heading our way.

"Hello," I smiled, dropping my toast onto my plate and wiping my hands on a napkin. "Have you spoken to him?" I asked, eagerly.

"Aye," he nodded. "This morning, over breakfast."

"And…how did he take it?" Harry wondered as I waited eagerly for the answer.

Mr Bridges thought over his answer, pursing his lips on his lined old face. "Well, he was a bit confused at first. I mean, he doesn't understand how you found him. And shocked that anyone has. But, now he's eager to meet you and find out more about himself…a little nervous too I expect. Anyway, we were wondering whether you'd be available for lunch?"

"Today?" I yelped and almost sloshed coffee down my blouse.

"Aye, if that would be okay? We could meet in here, and then I'll leave him to chat with you."

"Yes," I said eagerly, grasping at the chance. "Of course."

"Sounds good," Harry nodded, a grin on his face. I think for the first time, I truly understand how painful it had been for Harry to lose his best friend and how much he'd missed him. He might have Ginny and the kids and a whole family now with the Weasley's, but he and Ron had been side by side, partners in crime, since that very first day on the Hogwarts Express. His very first friend.

"Good, good. So…about one o'clock be alright?" he asked.

"Yes. We'll be here," I nodded enthusiastically.

Mr Bridges merely nodded and headed back out of the pub. I turned to look back at Harry and we both grinned hugely at one another.

It was only 9.30 when we finished breakfast and left the pub, another three and a half hours until our arranged meeting. Already I felt antsy and checked my watch every few minutes, wondering what would happen. When we started telling him things, would it all suddenly flood back to him? Would he recognise us and we'd finish up in some wild reunion? Or, would he still be none the wiser and listen to our stories about him as though we were talking about some fictional character from a book? I decided there and then not to tell him yet that we were married or that we had children together…not until he knew a bit more, maybe until he actually remembered something about us. Hearing that information from a stranger might freak you out, just a little bit.

With nothing else to do, Harry and I wandered down to the beach, about a half an hour walk along a country lane. All the way we discussed how much to tell him, to let him control the conversation and ask us what he needed to know. We didn't want to bombard him with too much information at first. And then, we'd just have to hope things came back to him, that hearing these stories and being with us jogged his memory somehow. We were pinning a lot on this word hope. A word that implied you believe you have a chance at something. Yet I wasn't entirely convinced we did.

Once back in the village, I insisted on heading back to the B&B half an hour before we were due to meet him to get ready. I wanted to look nice for him, why when he didn't know who I was, I wasn't sure. But…I felt I should make an effort. Perhaps I was just hoping he was going to fall in love with me all over again and everything would come back to him. All I knew was, I was willing to try anything. I wouldn't stop until I had my husband back – memory complete and whole again.

"They're late!" I huffed, slamming the menu I had already read six times, down onto the table.

"Only by ten minutes." Harry checked his watch and shrugged, none perturbed.

"Huh," I scoffed and returned to my perusal of the menu. I don't know why – it was rather limited and I knew it by heart now. I had been on edge ever since we came in 20 minutes ago. If I wasn't looking through the menu, I was sorting the cutlery in the little basket on the table, lining up the salt and pepper pots straight with the vinegar and matching the little packets of sauces in a bowl. Every time I heard the door, I'd jump and turn around and then sigh loudly when it wasn't them.

"Hermione, please?" Harry asked, placing his hand over mine when I began to sort the sauce packets again.

"Sorry, sorry," I shook my head and leant back in my seat, closing the menu. "I don't know why I'm so nervous."

He just gave me an understanding smile across the table. Of course I knew why I was nervous. This was like a first date with the man I'd spent more than half of my life with. And somehow I had to convince him not only to remember me, but to fall in love with me all over again. Damnit – it had taken us seven years to fall in love the first time, or at least seven years to do anything about it.

"Here they come," Harry suddenly muttered, sitting up in his seat and shuffling up the booth to make room for them. I froze, not daring to turn around.

"Sorry we're late," Max muttered as they both stood by the table. I looked up at Ron and smiled at him. He'd made an effort, the facial hair I'd noticed yesterday looked tidier and he'd put on a clean shirt, I was pleased to note. He might have even brushed his hair. "Anyway, I'm not stopping, got lots to do. So…erm, well these are the pair I told you about," Max spoke to Ron. "Friends of yours from school, thought it would be good for you to sit and talk with them."

Ron nodded, he looked nervous, I suppose I would be at being left with perfect strangers. I was able to view him closer as he sat down beside Harry. Physically he was practically the same man I'd last seen 22 months ago. But, his eyes were totally different. Oh, they were still the same incredible blue, but he'd lost that sparkle, they just had a very faraway look in them. He seemed lost.

"I didn't catch your names yesterday," I realised Max was still talking and dragged my eyes away from Ron's face before I made him uncomfortable.

"I'm Harry,," he shook Max's hand and then Ron's.

"He…Hermione," I stammered out, shaking Max's hand and then Ron's. The instant our skin touched, a bolt of electricity ran up my arm and straight to my heart. I gasped, audibly and he pulled his hand away sharply, as though I had burnt him. Had he felt it too?

Max was looking between the three of us curiously, a puzzled look on his face as he looked at us each in turn. And then a realisation came to him and I think he knew who we were, why our names were familiar and that we were more than school friends. We were war hero's - 'The Golden Trio', the Daily Prophet had hailed us as.

"Well, I'll leave you all to it. Roland, take as long as you need…I won't need you this afternoon," he patted his friend on the back and wandered away.

"Erm, well…I'm Roland," he muttered once we were left alone. "At least that's what they call me now."

"We always knew you as Ron. Ronald Weasley." Harry smiled at his best mate.

Ron nodded and then laughed once. "Well, at least we got the right letters, just mixed up a bit," he laughed again and that seemed to break the ice a little.

A waitress came over before anything else could be said, I ordered the salad – something to pick at as I didn't think I would be able to eat. Whilst the boys both ordered a burger. I noted Ron still liked his meat cooked the same – well done – he used to freak about any red juices on his plate. Small things like that were important to me, giving me hope that there was still something of the man I knew and loved in there, somewhere.

"So, we were friends in school? The three of us?" Ron asked next.

Harry nodded. "The best of friends. You and I met on the way to Hogwarts, on the train the first day. We were friends from that moment on. Probably because I bought loads of sweets from the trolley and we shared them all the way to school," they both laughed at that.

"We met on the way, but we weren't exactly friends at first." I finally joined the conversation. "I think you probably thought I was a bit…"

"Of a bossy know it all!" Harry finished for me.

"Thank you Harry," I kicked him under the table. "I was just trying to prove myself," I insisted and folded my arms. "Anyway, that all changed at Halloween, when the pair of you saved me from a giant troll in the girls toilets and then, I lied to the teachers so you didn't get into trouble." I remembered back to our first year.

Ron roared with laughter at that – I loved his laugh, it hadn't changed at all, it was still infectious as I giggled along with him. "I suppose fighting a troll together is bound to forge a friendship," he laughed again. "Wait," he sobered up. "What the hell was a troll doing in a school full of children?"

Harry and I looked at one another and shook our heads. "A long story," Harry sighed. As best he could, without divulging everything about Voldemort's story just yet and the approaching war that happened or our involvement in it, Harry began to explain about the troll. Pausing briefly when the waitress brought our food.

"Great, I'm bloody starving," Ron dug right in, a burger in one hand as he shoved four chips into his mouth with the other. Normally, I might have reproached him for his language and table manners, but right now it just made me smile – there was further glimpses of my Ron, not Roland. "Sounds a bit of a dangerous school," he muttered once Harry had finished his tale.

"You have no idea," I murmured and shook my head.

"Hey, by the way. How old am I exactly? Often wondered. Mildred, Max's wife, reckons I'm about 28 or 29."

"You turned 31 on March 1st," I answered him.

"31?" He looked positively glum about that.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm 32 in September," I shrugged.

Ron smiled at me over the table. "Thanks," he muttered through a mouth full of burger. "So, erm…" he began again, once he'd swallowed his food. "Do you know what happened? I mean…how I, erm…disappeared?" he asked.

Harry sighed. "We don't know, exactly," he began. "But, well…you were an Auror and we were on a miss…"

"An Auror? Me? A bloody Auror?" he pointed to himself with his fork and was getting louder in his complete disbelief.

"Shh," I whispered and looked around the rest of the pub. It was fairly quiet – but that just made it easier for people to overhear. Being together it was easy to forget we were out in the Muggle world.

"Oh, yeah," he looked sheepish and quietened down. "But…how the hell did I ever make it as an Auror?"

"You were very talented," I smiled proudly at him. "And you excelled in your training." I added. I'd always told him he would, when he'd been down on himself and claimed he'd only make it because he was Harry Potter's best mate and he was the Ministry's favourite protégé.

"Plus, you had loads of experience, more than some Aurors see in a life time," Harry added without thinking.

Ron looked confused and a little startled, probably wondering what the hell his life had entailed.

"Well, you know, not many Aurors see a fully grown troll, let alone fights one off when they're 11 years old," I laughed, making a joke of it. Ron grinned at me and my heart melted. Had I ever stopped loving him, for even a brief second, I knew I would have fallen in love all over again with that grin.

"Yeah, so, anyway. We were out on a mission…" Harry finished explaining what we knew about his disappearance and then what Max had filled in for us.

We spent hours chatting, long after we'd finished our meals. Ron and Harry had eaten dessert and eventually the staff started giving us looks, wondering when we'd clear off so they could clean up, I expect. We talked about everything, what he was doing now and how kind the Bridges had been to him after, what he now referred to as, his accident. He asked about school some more, wanted to know about Quidditch and if we'd seen any live matches. He was utterly amazed to learn he'd once played on the school team, though when he asked if he was any good, Harry and I might have elaborated the truth a little! Well, not too much – he did help win the cup two years in a row, after all, he just had confidence issues.

We purposely stayed away from risky topics of a personal nature, sticking to facts and old stories. He never asked about his family, his parents, whether he'd had a partner, nothing. And we'd both agreed not to tell him anything he didn't ask about – it was just too dangerous waters to get into. It was weird, he seemed to have basic knowledge of the Wizarding world – he'd heard of Hogwarts, knew all about Quidditch and knew of the Ministry. But, anything personal to him, it was gone – as though he'd blanked it all from his mind.

He had explained that since the Bridges went into hiding, they lived basically as Muggles and rarely used magic anymore, so he missed out on a lot of what was going on in the Wizarding World.

That would explain why they hadn't recognised him, or us. After his disappearance, the story frequented in the Daily Prophet for some weeks. After all, the loss of one of the Golden Trio was a blow to the moral of the magical community. I'd been asked for interviews numerous times, but always refused. How I felt about the loss of my husband, was my damn business and not cheap fodder to gain sympathy votes in a newspaper. Besides, how did they think I felt?

"Wow, look at the time!" Ron exclaimed, as he'd stretched his arms out and caught sight of his watch. It was almost five already – no wonder the staff wanted us gone! "I should probably be heading back. I know Max said he didn't need me today, but he always needs a hand bringing the cows in the for night, no matter what he says. He's not as young as he used to be!" he chuckled lightly.

My heart dropped at the mention of him leaving. For just a short while, I could pretend this was simply the three of us out to dinner together. That nothing had changed.

"We have been sat here almost four hours," Harry commented. "Think my backside has gone numb," he joked, shifting position in his seat.

"Are you guys going to be staying around town for a bit longer?" Ron asked, before he got up. "I mean, I'd like to chat some more, if that's okay? It's interesting to hear stuff about yourself, even if you don't remember it," he laughed at his own words. "That makes no sense!" he laughed louder.

"We're planning on staying a few days, now we found you." Harry grinned at his best mate and patted his shoulder jovially.

"Why wait? What about tonight? We could have dinner and…" I began animatedly, not wanting to let him go.

"Hermione, think perhaps we've overwhelmed him enough for one day?" Harry asked, gently.

I looked at Ron and smiled sheepishly, he did look a bit exhausted and knew he never coped well with information overload. If we were going to get him back, to regain his memories and return to us completely, then we had to go slow and I had to be patient. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry Ron," I smiled at him, wanting desperately to touch him again.

"Still sounds weird hearing you call me that," he shrugged, a little abashedly as he climbed from the booth. "Anyway…think Harry's right, I need to go and try to digest everything you told me. Still can't bloody believe I'm 31!" Of all the things we'd told him, he was still sulking about that!

"Well, how about tomorrow night? We could have dinner maybe? I mean…if you wanted to and you weren't busy or…"

"Tomorrow night sounds fine," Ron smiled at my rambling.

"Great!" I grinned and dared reach out to squeeze his hand still resting on the table. He looked down at our hands in surprise and the tips of his ears turned red.

"Erm, yeah," he mumbled, moving his hand from under mine and I instantly felt bad about it. He picked up his glass and finished his pint. "I'll see you both tomorrow then, about 7.30 or something?" he wondered.

"Sounds good," Harry nodded. "See ya mate,"

"See ya then. bye!" Ron waved, backing away out of the pub.

"So," Harry began, shoving his hands in his pockets as we walked down the street, heading back to the B&B – there really was nothing else to do here. "How do you think that went?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking over the last few hours. "I think there's hope," I eventually answered. "I mean…a lot of his mannerisms are exactly the same, his use of language, silly things like that. And…he seemed comfortable with us fairly quickly, as though deep down his soul knew us or something," I shrugged, knowing that sounded cheesy.

"I noticed that too." Harry commented. "Also noticed a lot of swearing, thought you were gonna thump his arm like you used to at one point," he laughed.

I smiled at that. "I might have done. Just for an excuse to touch him," I confessed. "It's hard being around him, when he looks exactly the same, and yet everything is so different. He blushed when I touched his hand!" I exclaimed. "He'd probably bolt if I hugged him, but that's all I want to do…my arms ache for him." I felt my own face flushing now, admitting that to Harry. He knew how much I loved Ron, how special he was to me, just as I knew how much he cherished his relationship with Ginny – he was crazy about her. But it wasn't something we ever voiced to each other.

"Anyway," I continued. "I still think…he's in there somewhere, our Ron, the Ron we know. We just have to help him remember." I sighed.

"We'll get him back, Hermione. I promise." he assured me, turning up the path to Mrs Wilson's house.