Chapter 18 – Escape With Me

Hermione sat on her bed in Harry and Ginny's flat with her legs crossed, her foot dangling in the air. She had been having a staring match with the calendar hanging on the opposite wall. No matter how she had looked at it, the days and numbers still told her the same thing: Over two weeks had passed since she'd left Edinburgh and her old life. It seemed like much longer, though, she thought. As unfamiliar as she had felt when she first arrived here, things were upside down now, leaving her with that same unfamiliarity about her old life.

Standing up, Hermione walked to the calendar and leaned her elbow against the wall, running her hand into her hair. Sighing, she stared at it the same way as before. She counted and counted, planning how much longer she could stay. She had to go back as soon as possible. At the same time, she couldn't even imagine it. Go back to what?

She turned away abruptly and walked over to the small table under the window. It was stacked with all the spell books she had bought in Diagon Alley, all of them thrown open on random pages with spells of various kinds. In the corner, there was the photo album she had borrowed from the Hogwarts library, and Harry once again blinked up at her from the picture awkwardly while picture Ron and Hermione kissed.

She kept wondering about their engagement over and over again. They never really ended it. Practically they were still engaged. She could just go back to Edinburgh, wrap her job and flat up, and stay here where she was supposed to be. But it couldn't be that simple. She couldn't just expect things with Ron to be the same as they had once been. It didn't matter if they had been anything more than friends in the past, because that was what it was – the past. A past she couldn't even remember, on top of it all.

Next to the photo album was her wand. Picking it up, Hermione gripped it firmly in her fingers.

"Accio!" she shouted, her wand pointed at the calendar. Her initial inspiration was to summon the thing to her and tear it to shreds, but the thing wouldn't budge!

Since her little pathetic wand spark in the garden, Hermione hadn't been able to conjure anything. She had been practising almost all night, getting only a few hours of dreamless sleep. Hermione didn't know whether she felt thankful about the lack of dreams, or sorry for it.

Maybe her magic really worked only with Ron around. What was she to do? Tag along after him and kiss him for the rest of her life whenever she wanted to do a stupid spell?

Wincing, Hermione raised an eyebrow. Could she do that? The prospect didn't seem all that bad, she thought sheepishly. Shaking her head at the thought, feeling ridiculous, Hermione tried to concentrate on her wand again.

"Engorgio!" This time, she was pointing her wand at a book on the table. Nothing happened to it, not even a shiver.

Hermione gritted her teeth and had to take in a few deep breaths to calm herself. Maybe she should start with something really, really easy that would enable her to move onto more complicated spell-work.

Flipping through the first book she found, she went to the first pages with the easiest spells. She held her chin as she scanned the page quickly, all the necessary information immediately seeping into her head.

"Right," she muttered to herself, walking in circles. "You can do this, Hermione. It says in the description every first year masters this in their first lesson. Lumos!"

She had really believed this one would work, that the tip would light up. There was no light, no sparkle, nothing. Unable to hold it in any longer, Hermione broke down in tears, sitting down on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands.

How could she ever hope to fit into this world, fit in with Ron, when she couldn't do the one thing that made her truly belong there?

"What do you want me to say?"

"Erm, the question was pretty clear."

Ron was standing behind the front counter at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, taking new products from a box set atop it. He was placing it in the shelves, daring to levitate them with his wand occasionally when George wasn't looking.

"You asked something along the lines of: hmph mm so hmmph what about hmph Hermione?" said George. He was pacing the front room of the shop, commanding Ron where and how to put the new products on the shelves and what price to put on them.

"I didn't hmph all the way through the question!" Ron shot back indignantly, setting new packs of bubble gum down with bigger force. These bubble gums were secretly salty, and the label read: For all those vultures that swoop down on you whenever you pull out a pack!

"Sure you didn't," chuckled George, doodling down a new product design on his clipboard, with his wand tucked behind his ear.

"Can you just answer me?"

"Once again…what do I answer with? Hermione has been gone just like you. And I've hardly seen her since she's been back."

"Oh, never mind then." Ron got back to his work, his shoulders slumped.

George lifted his eyes from his drawing with a sigh.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked reluctantly. George Weasley had never been one to talk about feelings and relationships and all that rubbish. In the past, there had been only one person he would talk to about these things, and even then the talking hadn't even been necessary because everything unspoken was already understood.

Ron took the cue, however, and strode over to George, knocking the box over in his haste. Rolling his eyes, George managed to put all the contents and the box back up onto the counter with his wand.

"Right, sorry about that. Anyway, the thing is…Hermione says she's with this bloke. Not that I have anything against it, but, you know, we used to know each other. I hear we've been very good friends. I'm just wondering, as a friend, who is this bloke she's supposed to be with? Is he a good guy? I don't know! We should know, because Hermione is our dear family friend, so I just wanted to ask if her Jonas man is a good bloke."

"Slow down," George said with a small laugh, because Ron had spoken very fast and wildly. "How should I know whether her boyfriend's a good guy? I've never met him."

"Maybe it doesn't even matter whether he's a good guy," said Ron absent-mindedly, taking his chin into his hand and walking from one end of the shop to the other. "I mean, does she even know him? We've been practically living in a daze for the past few years, what with all the memory loss. We haven't been ourselves, so we made some weird choices. We had false memories, so maybe we even had false feelings! That's it. What if Hermione doesn't even like this guy, she only thinks she does, just like she thought she was this silly Muggle woman living in Edinburgh since forever."

"Ron, you can't just assume she doesn't-"

"Aha! What if he's the one that did this to us? That would seem just like funny old Johnny to enchant Hermione and kidnap her from her real family and friends so he could marry her. I mean, who wouldn't? She's like the loveliest thing on this good earth!"

"Yes, and he kidnapped you because you're just such ingenious company!" George cut in sarcastically, placing his arms atop Ron's shoulders to stop him from his jumping all over the place. "He's a Muggle, he couldn't have done this," he said tiredly, feeling at a real loss of what to say to his brother. It was only natural Ron would start trying to deal with all this since he had been in love with Hermione. Ginny had briefed him on the whole situation and it was clear to him it wasn't his place to tell Ron. But it seemed harder and harder to keep them in the dark about the truth since they were both trying so hard to uncover it. George knew very well what it was like to have people tiptoe around him, never saying the inevitable, thinking he could not deal with it all just yet.

"What about you, though? Have you not been seeing anyone at all?"

"Well..." Ron's face went red. "It barely even started."

"But it started."

"I honestly don't know. I had to leave the next day after she kissed me."

George grinned. He couldn't help but enjoy the sheepish expression on Ron's face. He crossed his arms and leaned back towards the counter.

"So let me get this straight. You are all in a twist because Hermione dared to have a boyfriend before she met you, but you also have a girl in your life. And obviously everyone has noticed how on edge you have been lately, which implies jealousy. Am I getting this right so far?"

"Kinda," Ron said, sullen but honest.

"So at least be fair to her and honest with yourself. Sort out your shit, let her sort out hers and then you can proceed. Look, mate, the thing is, she doesn't belong to you just because previously…" George reconsidered his next words for one last moment and just as he was about to finally say it, the door swung open, the little bell tinkling above.

Bill walked in, holding a little wooden chest under his arm while Victoire followed him with bouncy steps, holding his other hand.

Ron's stare was still fixed on George. "I never said she belonged to me," he muttered with indignation, "that's not how I...what did you mean previously? Previously what?"

But before George could answer, Victoire ran at them both. "Hello Uncle George, hello Uncle Ron!" she called with a glowing smile. George bent down so she could give him a kiss on the cheek. She then ran past him and jumped straight into Ron's arms.

"Hey Ron, I picked this up for you from our family vault." Bill placed the chest on the front counter. "These are all your documents from school and your past job, and some other little things we thought were important. You should look through it and sort it all out."

"Sure, thanks."

"Well, I see you two have been working hard. The place looks almost like when it first opened."

It was true. The shop was swept, the windows were washed and all the broken shelves repaired. There were old and new products everywhere, and on the floor were stacks of colourful new advertising fliers Ron planned to put up the following afternoon.

"Yep, I'll just finish putting these up," Ron motioned with his head to the box with the salty bubble gum, "and we'll be finished. I thought we could do something like a sale day, one day when all products would have these little discounts. You know, to bring the customers back."

"What's a discout?" Victoire asked Ron.

"A discount. It's when you buy something for less money."

"Will I get a discount?"

"You'll get something free, because I'm not a little git like uncle George who made me pay even more! And you have to promise you'll use the Canary Cream on him especially."

"Yes!" she said, delighted at the idea.

"How did you know I made you pay more?" George asked, a sad smile playing over his lips.

"I don't even know. One of those random things that keep coming back without me realizing. Give it a few years and I'll remember everything!"

Bill helped them with the last little things, fixing the creak in the door and the flickering lamp hanging from the ceiling. Soon there were no more boxes in the way, the shop was clean and smelled both exciting and mysterious and the three brothers looked around, all three of them smiling while Victoire sat on the counter now, dangling her feet.

"One more thing," said Ron after a while, walking to his rucksack in the corner and taking out a picture frame and a folded piece of paper. He placed the frame with his wand on the wall right behind the front counter clumsily, where all the newest and most popular products were. He then unfolded the piece of paper and looked up at George, fear mingled with care mirroring in his face.

George's expression was unreadable, his face a silent stone as he looked down on the picture of him and Fred Weasley from when they'd first opened the shop.

"I don't know how to straighten it out yet," Ron gulped awkwardly, cowering a little under George's gaze.

"Here, let me," said Bill softly, putting the tip of his wand gently on the photograph, and immediately it was straight like fresh new paper. He then put the photo in the frame and stepped back besides George to look up at it, barely realizing he was clutching his shoulder.

"I think it looks good," George said with a weak smile, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"I think Uncle Fred was prettier than Uncle George because he had both ears," Victoire mused when glancing over her shoulder at the picture, "but you're funnier," she grinned, turning back to George who hugged her and ruffled her hair.

"I was always the funny one," he remarked proudly. He then turned to Ron and punched his shoulder jokingly. "Thanks, mate."

"It's okay."

When Bill took Victoire into his arms and to the picture, telling her of the day her two twin uncles opened the shop, George leaned closer to Ron and whispered, "I can't say much, it's not my place, but I don't think Hermione should be with the Muggle, and you, as her friend or whatever, should definitely do something about it. Just talk to her, okay?"

Ron smiled appreciatively and stepped aside as George went to Bill and Victoire. Ron glanced at the little chest, taking real note of it for the first time. There was a key on a silver chain attached to it. He unlocked it and glanced through it quickly, deciding he would sort through all this parchment rubbish later. Just as he was about to close the lid, he noticed something sparkling in the corner. Pushing the parchment aside, he saw two small earrings. They were periwinkle blue and smooth along the surface. Ron never knew much about women's jewellery, but an image flashed before his eyes so unexpectedly it felt like lightning striking him.

He could picture it completely, Hermione in a matching dress, wearing these earrings with her hair tied up in a neat bun, locks of curly hair falling into her eyes. Feeling a lump forming in his throat, Ron put the earrings back hastily and closed the lid of the wooden chest.

He then joined George, Bill and Victoire under the framed picture of the twins, suspending the thought of Hermione from his mind for a moment. It was time, after all, to learn something about the brother he would never meet again. "So tell me," he dared, turning to George, "what was he like?"

Hermione sat in the Weasleys' kitchen, watching Ginny as she fumbled with flour and eggs over at the kitchen tower. Hermione prided herself on having a certain level of empathy, and now she could feel Ginny was not quite herself, pretending to make a cake but only making a mess in the process.

"It's just...my mum always makes pie or something when things go wrong. So, I'm going to make a cake, too!" she said with fake cheeriness, cracking an egg at the edge of the counter, sending most of it to go splat on the floor. Molly went out shopping and Ginny was determined to prepare dessert for the family dinner.

"You look nervous," Hermione said as she got up, taking a cloth from the table and wiping the egg off the floor. She felt silly doing it this way, knowing there was an easy magical solution, but she hadn't even bothered to take her wand from her room.

"Nervous?" Ginny asked, her voice choked. "No! Well, maybe." She cracked another egg, this time in the bowl, together with most of the egg shell.

"What is it then? Tell me."

Ginny looked at Hermione for a moment, hesitating. Then she sighed, as if she had made up her mind.

"I think we've been hiding enough from you," she began and Hermione braced herself. Was she finally going to tell her about their engagement with Ron? "We have reason to suspect that the people who kidnapped you in the first place might still be at it."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, forcing her face into a worried expression. Somehow, the knowledge they were in danger from unknown forces was less unnerving than having to face the reality of her and Ron's unresolved engagement.

"But we're investigating," Ginny went on, charming her wand to mix the cake ingredients in the bowl while she leaned on the counter and sighed. "Harry's at the Ministry as we speak, we're trying to look at the case from a new perspective, question new people. We will figure something out. You can stay calm, you're safe now with us."

"Actually," Hermione said, stepping from one foot to another, "I wanted to talk to you about something. I'd like to go home...I mean, back to Edinburgh for a couple of days."

"What? Why?"

Hermione looked away and down at her hands. "Well, I got a job there, a flat, all my books..."

"Oh, we can go get your books no problem," Ginny responded brightly. "You can pack and quit the job and just come back here for good."

"Wait, Ginny, no...packing, quitting? I can't just do that."

Ginny crossed her arms and furrowed her eyebrows in genuine misunderstanding.

"Why not? It's not your real life, you're not a Muggle and you shouldn't live like one."

"But are we sure about that?" Hermione snapped desperately.

Ginny blinked a few times, her mouth open. "Of course we are! Is this about the magic? Obviously it's about the magic. Hermione, I promise you, promise you, you were a brilliant witch and no spell can just erase that. You've gone through something weird and possibly traumatic and-"

"Okay."

Hermione didn't know why she was interrupting Ginny. Part of her felt bad, the rest of her just couldn't listen to the same speech again, no matter how well-intended and kind it was.

Giving Ginny a small smile, she waved her hand. "Sorry I keep bringing it up. I think you're right. Let's not talk about it any more."

Ginny nodded and they went back to making a cake so bad it would make Molly Weasley turn her head in shame.

Ron, Molly and Arthur joined them later, coming back from their errands. They emerged through the fireplace laden with shopping bags.

Arthur placed them down on the table, following it with lamenting about how much easier this would have been if they still had had their flying car. Molly pursed her lips at this while Ron perked up.

"A flying car? We had one? Wicked. Where is it?"

A solemn expression settled over Arthur's face, one of a terrible loss of a beloved object.

"We crashed it into a tree," Harry said, walking through the door right that moment.

"We did?" Ron asked, torn between horror and amusement. He then looked toward Arthur and grinned nervously. "Sorry, dad."

Arthur sat down and looked sadly out the window, probably recounting all the happy hours he spent tinkering with the old Ford Anglia in the shed. "It's in the past, son, it's in the past."

The dinner was a pleasant affair. Hermione did her best to be nice and not let any of her feelings show. She watched Ron out of the corner of her eye and if she guessed right, he was bottling up tension of his own.

She wanted to reach out to him, whisper I understand, but she sat too far from him and felt deep down they were still even further from each other. Ginny served them her and Hermione's cake for dessert.

Ron put up a most courageous fight to finish it while Harry had only accused Ginny of taking baking lessons from Hagrid. Molly did her best to be polite, but by the third bite she had scheduled Ginny to come around and learn some proper baking for Goodness' sake, because this was just tragic. Arthur skipped dessert and instead was showing Hermione his photo album full of photographs and magazine pictures of cars.

The lights outside were beginning to dim. Harry and Ginny were helping out Molly with the washing up while Arthur disappeared into his shed, sneaking a screwdriver and a hammer away from Molly's eyes.

Hermione stepped outside to breathe some fresh air. She was overlooking the garden when she heard the door open behind her. A secret wish whispered to the skies unawares: Let it be Ron.

"Hey." It was. She smiled at him as he joined her at the porch. Standing together there in silence, for the first time in days, she felt like the world wasn't caving in on her.

"How are you?" Ron asked her.

She looked sideways at him. She considered saying fine. Give a simple answer, even if a dishonest one. Better than to complicate things. But as she opened her mouth, the truth slipped out before she could hold it back.

"Terrible," she said and then laughed a little crazily, embarrassed by this sudden revelation.

Ron eyed her only for a moment before laughing and letting out a sigh of relief. "Me too."

"Really?" she asked with genuine surprise. "I thought you were loving all this."

"I was," he said, "I am." He leaned against the wooden beam of the porch, not taking his eyes off her. "It's been great, but what with our memories not coming back, I feel so...exhausted sometime."

"Exactly." Hermione felt an odd surge of energy, as if she were coming alive now that she knew she wasn't alone in this. "I'm exhausted of being this person that everyone thinks I am. Everyone has been so kind, so lovely to us, the last thing I want to do is to make them feel I don't appreciate it. Everyone keeps reassuring me everything will be okay, that magic will come to me. I want to believe it, I want to fight, but I also just need some space, I need to maybe be Jean again for just a day, to figure out the real me, the person in between."

The words that echoed on the small porch felt like poison leaving her body.

Ron eyed her for a moment, his eyes a deep shade of blue. She could stay in this moment for longer, but then he crossed the distance between them and held out his hand.

"Escape with me," he said breathlessly.

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