Chapter 21: Forgetting

When Art came into the bedroom, he was disappointed to find Emma fast asleep curled into a little ball, with the blanket pulled all the way up and tucked tightly under her chin. He pulled off his clothes and put on his dressing gown and headed to the shower. He didn't want Emma waking up to find him reeking of stale beer and cigarette smoke.

As he let the hot water sluice over him, he considered having a wank. He thought back to Emma's sleeping form. He didn't really want to wank, he was sick of wanking. He wanted Emma and he was rather tired of not being able to have her. Count your blessings, he reminded himself, at least she didn't dump you outright. He sighed and turned off the water.

He stood by the bed for a minute trying to decide whether to sleep naked or if he should wear pajamas. The fire was dying down, so he placed a couple of more logs on before deciding to just wear his boxers to bed.

As soon as he slid in the bed though, Emma woke, and rolled toward him.

"You're back," she murmured sleepily. She curled up next to him. He was a tad disappointed to find her wearing a gown.

He slid his arm around her, and she cuddled closer. He leaned over, kissed her softly and gently stroked her neck. Slowly, he trailed his fingers lower until he was caressing her breasts. She didn't open her eyes but rolled over on her back, giving him better access. The gown had about a million buttons holding the front of it together. He decided it might be fun to just unbutton them all and work his way down. When he'd opened enough buttons to bare her breasts he took them in turns, licking and nibbling at them as his fingers continued the unbuttoning. When he had her unbuttoned to the waist he realized, to his delight, that she wasn't wearing any knickers.

Yes! Art thought. He quickly finished unbuttoning the gown and opened it up completely. Her body glowed in the firelight and Art could feel desire burn through him. Part of him just wanted to jump on her and bury himself deep inside her, but another part wanted to take his time, make this really good, to remind her what she'd been missing.

He began kissing his way down her body. He definitely wanted her to remember what she'd been missing. He wasn't even sure she was fully awake until she cried out in orgasm. Art grinned. Score!

Downstairs, Ron had just started to doze off when he startled awake at the sound of someone crying out. He sat up and was reaching for his wand before he realized what it was. "Damn that boy," he muttered, and thought, lessons on silencing charms are tomorrow's first order of business.

He looked over to see if Hermione had woken. She was still sleeping soundly. Lucky, that, Ron thought as he glared at the ceiling.

The next morning, Art felt like a new man. He awoke at six o'clock, as usual, pulled on some pajamas and made his way merrily down to the kitchen. Generally, the only other person up with him was his mother, so he was surprised to see his father sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, reading The Daily Prophet.

"Oi, Dad, you're up early," Art said, warming the teapot with his wand and pouring himself a cup.

Ron looked at him bleary-eyed. "Your mum woke up about four o'clock in a lot of pain. I was up with her, getting her potions and what-not."

"Is she still awake?" Art asked, sitting across from his father.

"No," Ron yawned. "She fell back asleep about half an hour ago, but I couldn't sleep so I decided to go ahead and get up."

"I'm sorry, is there anything I can do?" Art asked and sipped his tea.

"Do you know how to cast a silencing charm?"

Art looked at him. "Of course, do you want me to put one on her room so we don't disturb her?"

"No," Ron hissed. "I want you to put one on your room so you don't wake me while you're shagging your girl."

Art could feel his face heat up with a blush. "I'm sorry, Dad. It completely slipped my mind."

"Well, I hope the contraceptive charm didn't also slip your mind."

Art dropped his teacup spilling tea all over the table and himself and breaking the cup.

"Bloody hell, Art!" Ron said standing and pulling out his wand.

Art looked up at him, terror coursing through him. "Sorry, Dad. I just need to…" he looked down at his tea spattered pajamas, "go change." He tore up the stairs taking them two at a time.

"Em!" he shouted throwing the door open.

Emma startled awake and sat up in bed. "What?"

Art shut the door behind him. "I forgot the charm," he gasped.

"What charm?"

"The contraceptive charm. I forgot it. I was just so happy to be able to touch you. I was so focused on that, I just forgot." He stumbled to the bed and dropped to his knees. "I'm so sorry, Em. I'm so sorry."

Emma sighed. "Relax," she said. "I cast it before I went to bed. They last twelve hours, so we're fine."

"Oh," Art said, holding a hand to his chest and sitting back on his ankles. "Oh, thank heavens." He took deep calming breaths.

"What is that all over you?" Emma asked, looking at his pajamas.

"Oh," Art said, looking down. "Tea. Burns a bit actually." He stood and began stripping off his damp clothes. He took a quick cool shower but his skin still stung from where the hot tea hit it. When he got out of the shower, Emma was gone. He pulled on his dressing gown and went down stairs.

"Dad," Art said from the kitchen door, "do we have any potions for burns?" Art noticed that his father had cleaned up the spilled tea and repaired the cup. Emma was sitting across from him. She was having tea and a piece of toast with treacle.

"Check your mother's potion cabinet."

Art went through the parlor and opened the pocket doors into his mother's study. The potion cabinet stood against the back wall, and as usual it took some effort getting to it. As he sifted through the neatly labeled bottles, he marveled at his mother's filing system. He knew she must have one, but for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. He ended up going through every shelf. He found what he was looking for on the top shelf, but before he turned away five tiny bottles with a silvery substance in them caught his eye. He picked one up to read the label, but there was only a date.

He pocketed one, and then used the burn balm and put it back where he'd found it.

"Oi, Dad, what is this?" Art asked as he walked into the kitchen. He was surprised to see that his mother was up now too and at the table as well. He held up the little bottle for all of them to see.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"There are five of these little bottles in the potions cabinet, but they don't have labels, only dates."

Hermione stood and took the bottle from his hand. "They're memories, they're mine, and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave them alone." She walked out of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," Art called after her. He looked at his father. "I didn't know what they were. I was just curious."

Ron nodded. "Well, now you know. Have some toast." He stood and followed Hermione.

He found her sitting behind her desk staring at the bottle. Ron closed the doors behind him. He moved a pile of books on to the floor and sat in the chair on the other side of her desk. "Five?" he asked.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. After a long moment, she stood up, took the other 4 bottles out of the potions cabinet and set them on the desk. She went across the room to another cabinet, moved several items and came back with a shallow stone basin. "You want to know what they are? Look for yourself. I'm going back to bed."

Ron sat for a long time looking at the bottles. He picked them up and looked at the dates. One of them was from their 7th year at Hogwarts. He knew what that one was. There was another one right after graduation that he also knew. The other three were from when she was with Viktor. He sighed and looked from the bottles to the Pensieve. He was tempted to see what all she'd wanted out of her mind permanently. On the other hand, he knew that one of those memories was of what happened to her when she was kidnapped in Bulgaria and he couldn't stand the thought of being a helpless bystander to that. Unfortunately, he didn't know which date that was. Finally, he gathered up all the bottles and put them back in the potions cabinet. He put the Pensieve away and went up to their bedroom.

He found her in bed reading.

She looked up at him warily.

"I didn't look."

Hermione looked surprised. "Why not?"

"Well," Ron said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Two of the dates I recognized." He sighed. "I kind of wish I could get those memories out of my head as well, but I'm rubbish at all sorts of memory charms. And the others, well, I think I can guess what they are and I don't think I want to experience any of them."

Hermione nodded. "I just didn't want you to think I was trying to hide anything. I've told you about everything in those bottles to the best of my ability."

Ron leaned over and kissed her. "That's good enough then."

Downstairs, Art and Emma were finishing up their meager breakfast.

"So your mum has some of her memories bottled? I didn't even know you could that. Do you suppose it's hard? I'd love to get rid of a few of my memories."

Art looked at her. "Really? What sort of memories would you like to chuck?"

Emma shrugged. "You know, this and that. Where's Winky today? Doesn't she make breakfast?"

"Not on weekends," Art answered, licking the treacle from his fingers. "Mum's rule. She says Winky deserves some time to herself. Winky says she'd just as soon cook breakfast, but Mum insists."

"Your mum's gone back to bed," Ron said as he walked into the kitchen. "What are you two up to today?"

"Well, Clive wants us to come round the Three Broomsticks this afternoon. I thought we might shop this morning in Diagon Alley and then Apparate to Hogsmeade."

"Very good then," Ron said, and ambled out to the parlor to read the rest of his morning paper.

The rest of the week went by easily for Ron. He got used to having Art and Emma in the house and, to his relief, they were appropriately restrained around each other. There were no repeats of the first night's failure to use a silencing charm, and when he'd pulled Art aside and verified the use of contraception charms, all seemed in line there as well.

Hermione grew stronger every day. She still slept a lot and her sleeping patterns were a bit bizarre, but Ron had grown used to that as well. She managed to stay up as a proper hostess for the company Christmas party, and even made polite small talk with Lavender. He knew she was definitely on the mend when she took the Floo, without incident, to the burrow for the family Christmas festivities.

Ron was feeling very satisfied with himself as he said good-bye to Emma on Boxing Day. She was off to spend a few days with her parents until it was time to return to Hogwarts. Art was going with her to the train station and then it would just be the three of them for the remainder of the holiday. It always made Ron happy to have just the three of them together. It reminded him of the days before Art went to school and he knew he'd have very few of those left. He wasn't sure if Emma was "the one" but if not her, it would be some other bird and then Art would be off to visit her family and having children of his own.

Ron smiled and walked into the parlor where Hermione was reading by the fire. "I love you, you know that?"

She smiled up at him. "I was just thinking about you."

"Yeah?"

"I'm feeling loads better, and I managed the Floo. I suspect I'll be ready for a new wand soon."

"That's great, luv."

"Yeah, but you know what I want before I get a new wand?"

Ron raised his eyebrows, suddenly remembering their conversation several days ago. "Oh."

"Think you can manage that?"

"Oh, yeah!" Ron grinned and reached for her.

She laughed as he pulled her on to his lap. "My aren't we eager."

"Yes, yes we are," Ron agreed. He held her face in his hands and pulled her toward him for a kiss. He breathed her in, pressing his lips against hers and smiling when she parted hers and ran her tongue along his. It had been too long. He slid his hand down and cupped her breast.

Hermione pulled back. "You know, with Art in the house, perhaps the parlor isn't the best place for this."

Ron sighed. He slipped his arms under her and stood without much effort and started toward the stairs.

"You're carrying me to the bedroom?" Hermione smirked. "How gallant."

"I'm just trying to keep you from escaping."

"Not much danger of that." She smiled.

Ron was surprised by how light she was. She'd never really been heavy, but clearly she'd lost more weight during her convalescence than he'd realized. Of course, it wasn't too surprising he hadn't noticed, he suddenly couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her naked. Was it the morning Michelle performed the procedure? Could that be right? Surely not, but he couldn't recall seeing her naked since then. He held her closer and continued up the stairs. He set her gently on the bed and pulled his wand, lit the lamp, and sealed the door with a silencing charm.

When he turned back to Hermione she had an eyebrow arched. "Ooh, are you going to make me scream, Ron?"

He gave her a lascivious grin. "I certainly hope so."

"Then douse the lamp and let's see what you've got," Hermione replied cheekily.

Ron frowned. "No, come on, it's been ages, let me leave the light on."

Hermione shook her head. "You don't want to do that, Ron. It's worse than before. It's not like I've ever been much to look at, but now…" She shook her head again.

Ron knelt before her and looked into her eyes. "You've always been lovely to look at."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Come on, luv." He tugged at the sash on her dressing gown.

She stood up and walked away from him. Ron mentally kicked himself.

Hermione took a deep breath and blew it out. She didn't turn around. "Well, fine. No sense being squeamish, it's not like I can hide it forever." She dropped the dressing gown and Ron could see that her nightgown hung off her like it belonged to someone else, someone much larger. That was a little scary because that gown was one his favorites specifically because he liked the way it hugged her curves. He bit his bottom lip as she pulled the gown over her head and let it drop to the floor. This time he couldn't help but gasp. He saw her shoulders tense at the sound.

"I told you it wasn't good," she said.

"You're so thin," Ron said, walking toward her. "Why have you lost so much weight? You eat constantly."

"Restoring my magic takes a lot of energy. It's been really draining." She kept her back to him.

He put his hands gently on her shoulders. He noticed the scar across her shoulder was longer and thicker, more jagged than it used to be. She was tense beneath his hands. He moved her hair aside and kissed her neck. "You're so thin, it makes your hair look bigger."

"Oh, good. Just what I've always wanted, bigger hair."

Ron chuckled and kissed her neck again. He knelt and planted kisses all over her back, circling her waist with his hands. He noticed the scar along her side was longer and thicker now too, running almost from her armpit down passed her hip. For a moment he flashed on the morning of the procedure, all the blood, her hoarse cries. He rested his forehead against her back for a moment and forced himself to breath and pushed the images from his mind. He hadn't lost her. She was right here, and she needed him, needed him to love her, needed him to desire her and needed him to ease her fears. Ron ran his tongue from the base of her spine all the way to her neck. It was weird to feel each vertebra so distinctly, but it had the desired effect. Her flesh goose-pimpled. He smiled. He put his hands back on her shoulders and turned her around.

"Ron," she said softly.

"Shh," he said and kissed her, deeply and to his joy, she matched him. She ran her tongue along his and slid her hands into his hair, pulling him down, drinking him in.

Normally, at a moment like this, he would simply pick her up and take her against the wall, but that seemed ill advised in her condition. He was literally afraid she would break. He knelt in front of her and began lavishing attention on her breasts with his tongue, dancing across the scar between them, which like its companions, was longer and thicker than before. He started going through various positions in his mind. Him on top was out; he was too heavy. Her on top seemed like a lot of work for her and this wasn't supposed to be about that. All the gymnastic stuff was out. Getting behind her seemed a little rough for this sort of occasion, besides he didn't want her thinking he didn't want to look at her. He sat on the floor, cupped her ass in his hands and slid his tongue between her legs. She went weak in the knees but he held her in place, which given her weight loss was pretty easy. She started making those sexy little noises above him. He considered just bringing her off with his tongue and leaving it at that, but discarded that idea immediately. She'd never be satisfied with just that or worse, she might be offended, thinking he didn't want to be inside her, which he most certainly did. Finally, he settled on a compromise position, hot enough to make her feel sexy, but not so hot as to push her too hard.

He nipped at her lightly and looked up. She was trembling. "Alright there, luv."

She nodded wild-eyed at him.

He kissed her belly button and got to his feet. "Come here."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled at her. "Why don't you sit in my lap and tell me about your day."

She cocked her head to one side and pursed her lips. Slowly one side of her mouth slid into smile. She knelt with her legs on either side of him and slid her hand down to shift him to her entrance. She bit her bottom lip as she slid down his length and leaned back. He cupped her ass and supported her weight as she shifted her legs to wrap around his waist. "I don't remember my day," she hissed.

"Good," Ron growled back. He sucked in a ragged breath at the feel of her. "How do you stay so tight?"

She looked him in the eye and poked her tongue between her teeth. "With intention."

"Cheeky," was all he could respond.

She kissed him then, and the dance began in earnest. He set the rhythm and she matched him, until, as promised, she lost it with a throaty cry. He wasn't far behind. It was all she could do to get back into a kneeling position. As soon as her legs were out of the way, Ron fell back against the bed. She fell forward on top of him. He pulled the blankets over them.

"Let's not ever go that long without sex again," Hermione said, kissing his chest.

"Deal," Ron said and closed his eyes.