Chapter Ten

Fireworks Display

The Burrow hadn't changed since she last remembered it. It still stood tall, and crooked, being held up by magic. There were clucking chickens parading in the front yard. Hermione thought that seeing it would make her feel sad, but it was actually a comfort. It felt like she was returning home. It must have been how she felt after the war.

"Are you sure you want to do this," Harry asked.

"I have to." This was the first step. She had to see her friends, and get back to her life. Minus her career that she was sure was a huge part of it, but the Healer was adamant that she could only return when her memory was back. She had to admit that it was for the best. She would be rather useless going to work when she had little knowledge of what to do. She did go through a lot of lessons to become a lawyer, but she couldn't remember going to one. She couldn't remember her decision to go through it at all.

Molly swung open the door, and cried happily, "Hermione, Harry! It's so good to see you! You could've apparated in the lounge." She hugged them both in turn, Hermione a little longer than Harry.

"Hermione wanted to see the outside of the house."

"Well, it hasn't changed much," she said, hands on her hips. "Speaking of change, Harry, Arthur has the bike ready in shed."

"The bike," Hermione inquired. "Sirius' bike?"

"He was making some improvements on it for me," Harry explained. "Faster speed, and enhancing the charm to keep Teddy a good distance away."

"Those are simple spells, you could've done all that."

"I was going to, but..." He trailed off, and Hermione understood. She lost her memory, and Harry handed the work over to Mr. Weasley so he could focus on her.

Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands, "lets get in then, shall we? I have dinner all prepared." She began naming every dish she cooked as they followed her inside the bustling house.

Arthur, thinner, and grayer, greeted them from the couch, but got to his feet hurriedly taking Harry off to the backyard to show him the bike rattling off the research he found on muggle mechanics. Hermione found Bill, and George in a game of Gobstones, and hugged them. Bill was unrecognizable from his younger self. A battle at Hogwarts left him with deep gashes in his face, his teeth a bit more pointed, and his hair wilder thanks to a bite from a particular horrible werewolf. Hermione then looked around for the one living person she knew should have been there. "Where's Fleur?"

Heavily, Bill sighed. "At her mother's, needed a break from -"

Suddenly the air was knocked out of Hermione's lungs as something tackled her around her knees making her legs buckle beneath her. When she looked down she saw a glowing girl with flowing white hair grinning ecstatically up at her.

"Who is this," Hermione asked in undertone not wanting to offend the tot.

"That's Victoire. Our daughter."

"Victoire," Hermione reiterate in an attempt to remember the name.

"Victoire, let her breathe," Bill laughed heartedly tugging her back a couple of steps. "Sorry about that."

"Quite all right," Hermione lowered herself down on her knees so she could be at eye level with the beautiful child.

"Miney," Victoire called her.

Better than Hermy, Hermione thought hugging the stranger.

As the day drew on she got to know the child again, and learned that she was very delightful indeed. Not that she suspected otherwise, but it was someone who wasn't giving her sympathy looks. Victoire, like Teddy wasn't told about her current condition, and gave her ample opportunities to forget about it. Until Mrs. Weasley called everyone in for supper she played a game of Exploding Snap. She was amazed by the girl's intelligence, and announced to the red-headed family that she was defiantly going to be a Ravenclaw.

"You were the smartest witch in school, and you weren't," George pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, "because I asked the sorting hat to put me in the best house."

"You really are smart, Hermione."

She glared at him thinking he made a joke, but her expression softened when she saw he wasn't. George was truly more serious without his twin brother. It had to take a real toll on him, but she couldn't remember. Inwardly she cursed herself for not knowing. It all seemed so proverbial to her, yet it was too far away to reach. She turned her attention back to Victoire, and their game that she was losing by a great deal.

Halfway through the meal Hermione excused herself to the bathroom. She didn't have to go, but she needed to breathe. There was a lively chatter that she couldn't participate in, she kept dazing off. There was several empty chairs, one in particular was Ron's, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't tear her attention from it. Finally she did, making her getaway.

At the staircase she stopped. At the side were the Weasley family pictures. Looking behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed, or watched, she took a look at them. There were many of the boys, and Ginny growing up. One showed a two-year-old Ron that was scowling in a maroon sweater. Then she came to the photographs of their school days. A lot of them included Harry, and her with them. The newest ones, however, missed Ron, Fred, and Ginny. Harry, and her were too close to each other in them. One was of their wedding day, standing up at a toast Luna, and George were giving. She had always been touched that she was included on the "family wall." It only hurt now to see that not all of the Weasley's were present in the recent ones.

Drying her eyes she walked up the stairs, and turned into Ron's room. She hoped that Mr., and Mrs. Weasley didn't change it, and she saw that they didn't. Everything was still orange, the walls, the bedspread, and the moving posters everywhere supporting the Chuddly Canons. She smiled sadly to herself, and sat on his bed, it creaking under her small weight. She laid down, her feet dangling off the side. His scent was there. The sweet smell of his shaving cream, and shampoo.

"Hermione?"

She looked over to see George standing in the doorway. She sat up, suddenly embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I -"

"It's okay..." George sat beside her. "Lie back down, it's all right."

She did as he said, twirling a loose thread from the sheet around her finger. "I'm glad your parents didn't redecorate."

"Dad wanted to; mum refused. I'm glad they didn't either." He patted her shoulder in a brotherly manner. "He loved you, you know? Every summer all he could talk about was you."

"We kissed in the Room of Requirement. I was tired of waiting for him, so I kissed him. If I knew it would have been the last time..." She sniffed. "How are you doing this? You've lost two brothers, and your sister. How?"

"I think you know. You lost your first love, a brother, a sister, and your parents. I don't know how you do it."

She nodded into the pillow. "You just go on..."

"Exactly, now come back downstairs. I'll get rid of the chair."

She stared at him without conviction.

"I saw you looking at it. I find myself doing it too. Come on now, come, and eat."

She let him help her to her feet, and together they went back to the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye she saw George nod at Harry. She pretended not to see this.

After supper George gathered everyone outside for a fireworks display. They boomed in the inky blackness of the sky. Red, white, blue, yellow. Some took on shapes of stars, crescent moons, lions, the infamous letter 'W' that was above Hogwarts when George, and Fred had made their grand exit from school. Harry, and her smiled knowingly at each other recalling that day with clarity, and with one arm he pulled her to him. She let him.

The fire continued to flash in the sky. Purple, orange, and then green. A bright green flash. Hermione blinked seeing it behind her eyelids, it danced violently, the screams in her mind echoing, and she stumbled backwards. She didn't notice she was the one screaming, raking her hands through her hair, pulling at it, half-expecting to feel blood. Ron, Ginny, Ron, Ginny, she went over, and over in her head like a mantra, as if it would rewind time.

"Hermione," Harry yelled catching her by the waist. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

Mrs. Weasley audibly gasped. "George, stop the fireworks now!"

The cracking of the fireworks stopped, and she heard George. "What's going on? She all right?"

"A flashback," Harry mumbled to the surrounding crowd. Hermione could see them, but she could also see Ron's horrified face, and Ginny's bleeding shoulder. She wanted it gone. She wanted it all gone.

"Hermione, you have to stay with me here."

She shook her head slamming her eyes shut. Go away, please, make it go away. She had no idea who she was pleading to. She didn't know whether she said it out loud or not. She didn't care. She wanted it gone. She wanted it to end. She wanted her memory back. She needed it back.

"Hermione, talk to me."

Hermione felt his arms securely around her. "I want to remember," she croaked. "I need to remember you - us. Please." She closed her eyes as he smoothed her hair back, the visions dimming, fading. Ron's face exchanging blurrily for Harry's.

"You will."

"What if I don't?"

"Don't talk that way," he hissed.

Tears leaked from the creases of her eyes. She was very conscious of the whole Weasley clan watching her. Mrs. Weasley was talking in a rush to her husband about St. Mungo's. She was a bit peeved at her fate being decided for her. There was no need to take her anywhere. She tried to concentrate on Harry. He was the only matter of importance then. "What if I don't?"

Harry tensed. "Later, lets get you home first." He picked her up, nodding to everyone in way of goodbye, and apparated his wife back to the bedroom of their home setting her on the bed with care.

"Don't leave me, Harry."

He laid beside her taking her hand in his, linking his fingers with hers. "Never, Hermione."

She was bursting with things that needed to be said then. She had to let him know what she was feeling. She was still shaking. Anything could happen, and if it did, he had to know. "I didn't want you to die, you know that, right? I wouldn't think of trading your life for Ron's."

He kissed her forehead. "I know that, love."

"Maybe this was how it was supposed to be..."

"That's what I believe."

"The two of us."

"Yes."

"I do love you. I really do. Don't tell me not to say it, because I will. I don't have all of our memories, but I love you, I know I do."

His lips lingered on her skin. "I love you too."

A/N: I don't know much about flashbacks, so I apologize if my version is wrong by medical standards. There was only so much medical studying I could do (I was never good at biology or science).