The light burnt her eyes no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut. There was too much around her. There were footsteps all around her. A voice was close to her ear. It was saying- something.
She felt like she was grasping for something that she couldn't make out. Each time she reached for the unknown her hands came back empty. Each failure to gleam information frustrated her.
So, she just focused on listening.
The difference between soft sounds and loud sounds was the first sense to return. Loud noise usually meant there were hands all over her. Sometimes even painful procedures.
The soft sounds were harder. They usually seemed to come from people. It was a disconcerting feeling hearing words without comprehension. It felt like she was thrust into an unknown foreign country without speaking a word of their language.
Hermione didn't like not knowing things. So, she tried even harder. All her energy and mental resources were devoted to understanding.
Someone was upset. She thought she heard crying.
Why was someone upset?
Something must be wrong.
Eventually, words began to come back. Slowly. It began with the pleas she heard. There were prayers. To everyone. Each God that one could possibly think of. She didn't think she was very religious. Why were there so many prayers?
Once she understood small phrases, her brain began to be able to latch onto conversations. She was hungry for any information she could get from them.
She heard so many voices. Some were male, others female.
"Still no change?"
"Nothing."
She heard sighs. The tapping of feet. She even thought someone might be pacing in the room with the number of footsteps she could hear.
"Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up."
That voice was familiar.
The noise originated from a spot near her ear. She thought she could just barely notice the sensation of breathing on her neck.
The familiar voice was heard often. But there were others.
"Let me sit with her," came from her right side.
"You need to go home and get some rest," a different wish was spoken at a later time.
"Go home and get some sleep. I'll let you know if anything changes." That voice seemed softer than the rest, a plea of some kind.
All of these desires would eventually be silenced.
"No."
It became pretty easy to tell when the Healers were coming in. All conversations would halt. Voices would quiet. Calm footsteps would sound moments before the pain.
She tried to brace herself for it, but it was hard to prepare for the aching torture they put her through.
The unwelcome invasion of another's magic was uncomfortable on good days. Each spell they used left her head screaming. She was left wrenching her mind away from the pain, but each additional spell forced her back to participate in her own abuse.
She wished she could lift her arms so that she could cradle her head. Protect it from what was happening.
Sometimes she heard crying during the magical interventions. There were whimpers, sobs, and moans. Again and again. She wished they would just shut up. Every sound made her head hurt even worse.
It took Hermione a long time to realize that she was the one making the noises.
Eventually, she'd feel their magic slide out of her body. Her chest was left heaving in their wake.
She knew they were officially finished with her when she heard, "There's no change Mr. Malfoy. We will let you know if anything changes."
The familiar voice would then resume his chant by her ear. "Please wake up." was repeated over and over again.
His mantra began to wear thin on her nerves. She was obviously trying to wake up. No one ever wants to stay in a comatose nightmare.
When her annoyance reached its boiling point, she finally summoned the effort necessary to open her eyes. She slammed them shut again when she was reminded just how much the lights made her head throb.
A few moments later, her head had become a dull roar as she regained the courage to open her eyes again.
She couldn't focus.
Everything felt unknown.
She saw things. She knew there were things in front of her.
But what were they?
Nothing made sense.
She tried to focus her gaze. Were those eyes staring down at her? A man?
She saw him in separate parts like he was sliced into puzzle pieces. Instead of a whole being, she saw a jaw hanging, a pair of wide eyes, and a trembling mouth.
"Can you hear me?" Desperation. Fear. Terror. It was all too much to listen to. She couldn't look.
A cool hand grabbed her wrist. The touch radiated to the entire side of her body. It felt like she was dipped in a bucket of ice water. Pain flashed up her arms, down her legs.
She wished she had the words to beg him to let go. She wanted to plead with him not to torture her like this.
Suddenly, and without any preamble, different sets of hands were groping her whole body. Each spot a hand grazed was left trembling.
Her mouth fell open as deep guttural moans escaped from her lips. She thought she was crying.
Spells were flying all around her; into her.
"Mrs. Malfoy, can you hear me?" Hands hovered over her weaving magic into her skull.
"Mrs. Malfoy, if you can hear me, please try to stay calm. Take deep breaths. We are going to put you back under."
None of it made sense, no matter how hard she tried to focus.
Hermione was floating. The air around her was like a gentle breeze. She didn't notice anything, instead, she let the tides take her in and out from the shore.
Hermione didn't know how long it took, but eventually, her eyes fluttered open. There was an overabundance of stimuli, but it didn't overwhelm her fragile brain as it did before.
"Can you hear me?" A voice croaked.
Hermione tried to manage a nod, before she finally said, "Yes."
It felt like her throat was closing in on itself as a scratchy rasp left her mouth. Her voice had never sounded like that before.
"Oh thank god." He laughed as he stared down at her. Her eyes narrowed on his hands. They reached out and hovered over her body as he hesitated. Eventually, he dropped them back to his side.
Hermione finally looked at him in the eyes.
Was that?
It couldn't be.
She must be going crazy.
"Oh thank god. I was so worried. Don't ever do anything to me again." He said as he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
He turned from her and then left with a sprint.
While he was gone, Hermione went over the encounter in her head. Her subconscious, in all its unknowing wisdom, must have decided that Malfoy kissing her at her bedside was an appropriate hallucination to give.
There was no way that her subconscious could be that creative. He must be someone else. Maybe he was her healer?
Healers don't usually kiss their patients.
She grasped onto his voice. That voice was familiar. She knew it from somewhere. The answer was somewhere in her brain, but she just couldn't reach it. It was just as frustrating as when she had a word being on the tip of her tongue.
A few moments later a healer walked into the room. Hermione watched as she entered. Her silver hair was collected into a tight gray bun. A gentle smile was on her face.
"Hello, my name is Healer Morgan. I specialize in magical brain injuries. Are you in any pain?" She asked softly. Her words were kind enough to feel comforting to her damaged brain.
Hermione shook her head no.
Her head was throbbing. Her stomach was turning. Her arms and legs were burning.
There were more important things that she wanted to focus on.
"I'm going to ask you some questions to see how your brain is doing. Can you say yes if you understand what I'm saying?" Her voice reminded Hermione of a still lake. Calm. Serene.
"Y-" Hermione started but stopped as she was reminded of how horrible her voice sounded. Healer Morgan gave her an encouraging smile and handed her a cup of water.
"Yes." she finally was able to say after taking a generous sip.
"Perfect. Can you tell me what your name is?"
"Hermione Granger." The Healer nodded.
"Do you know where you are right now?"
Hermione looked around at her surroundings and the robes on the Healer. "St. Mungo's," Hermione responded.
"Last question for now, can you tell me what year it is?"
"It's um 1999." Another nod, but Hermione was able to notice her eyes widening slightly.
Considering most of her nightmares involved sympathetic expressions from healers giving bad news, she knew what that subtle look meant. It was permanently etched into her brain. It was the same look the healers gave her moments before saying the obliviation of her parents was irreversible.
"What's wrong?" Hermione sat up in her bed.
"Nothing's wrong. I think you may be having a little difficulty adjusting to being awake again. A little drowsiness and confusion is expected." She was lying. Hermione could tell she was lying.
Morgan's gentle smile was still on her face. But now it looked plastered there by sheer will.
Whereas earlier her expression soothed her fears and made her feel comfortable, this smile turned her stomach. Her peaceful lake had become choppy.
There was a pause as she began casting diagnostic spells. Each second Morgan continued to stare at the scans, was another moment of her chest aching from holding her breaths A few moments later, the healer finally spoke.
"I want to check something," it sounded like she was mostly speaking to herself.
She was gone for a couple of minutes and Hermione focused on the mumbles of a conversation outside.
"Remember what we spoke about," Morgan said, her voice sharp.
She looked over at Hermione's panic-stricken expression and put her smile back on her face. Hermione focused on keeping her breathing even.
"You're going to be fine dear. I'm going to bring someone in here. I want you to tell me who it is." She said.
Once Hermione nodded at her, Healer Morgan motioned for him to come inside.
"Okay, come in."
As Draco Malfoy walked in the door, she thought she may want to try to calculate exactly how big her eyes could grow before they physically popped out of their sockets. She was testing that limit with her surprise.
So, she wasn't hallucinating earlier. She didn't know if that was more or less comforting. She gave a subtle glance from side to side looking for her wand. Just in case.
Malfoy hovered near the doorframe. A small smile on his face that seemed to have been glued there with all of his energy. With the severity of the bags under his eyes, Hermione wondered if he had slept in years. His blond locks were sticking up at odd angles.
"Now dear," Healer Morgan started, "Do you know who this man is?"
Hermione nodded. Her eyes flashing back and forth between the two.
"Can you tell me his name?"
"He's Draco Malfoy, we went to school together," Hermione said, still not taking her eyes off Malfoy. She hadn't seen him since the end of the war, since the trials that Harry and she spoke at to keep him out of Azkaban. He looked just as exhausted as he did then.
She became transfixed by his hands. Both fists were clenched as a slight tremor ran through his body.
"Dear, is there anything else you can tell me about him? I want you to think very hard. Tell me who he is." She prompted.
Hermione's gaze jumped from his trembling hand to his face. His plastered smile had disappeared. His eyes were intense as he watched her, but his face otherwise expressionless.
"Well, I mean he was a death eater."
His collected expression dropped for a moment, a second. It was long enough for Hermione to see the horror in his eyes before he smothered it.
"That is technically correct, but dear-" the healer shared a glance with Malfoy, "he's also your husband." Hermione could sense the considerable effort Morgan was going through to try to keep her calm, but her spluttering had already begun.
"What- I mean- absolutely not. This must be some kind of sick joke. I would never- I'm with- Where did you even come up with-"
Every sentence she failed to finish caused a flash of pain to flash across Malfoy's face. When she was finished speaking his face was vacant. His eyes stared at nothing with only a blank look on his face. Each of his breaths seemed to take an enormous amount of effort.
"Mr. Malfoy can you please give your wife some space and exit the room. I would like to explain everything to her." Morgan asked. When he stood still as a statue, she snapped at him to leave.
He was shaken from his nightmare and stalked out of the room.
"Mrs. Malfoy-"
"Don't call me that!" Hermione exclaimed. She tried to search the healer's face for some kind of humor.
"Hermione, you've just woken up from a magically induced coma. You were in an accident, a combination of physical trauma and an unfamiliar magical signature required us to put you under a stasis charm while your brain healed."
"How long have I been under?"
"It's been a little over a month."
Hermione gave a soft cry as she heard the news. She knew something had been going on during her semi-conscious state, but she didn't think it had been that long.
"I want you to try to stay as calm as possible while I explain this to you. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"The year is not 1999, it is 2006. It seems you have forgotten the last seven years, during that time you married Mr. Malfoy. He's your husband."
"But- No. I'm not sure how much he paid you to play this joke but it's not funny. I want Ron Weasley. Please get him to come here. He'll clear all this up." She demanded.
Healer Morgan looked at her for a moment, Hermione wasn't sure if she liked the sympathy shining through the woman's eyes, "This is not a joke. No one paid anyone anything to play a prank. I'm sorry I wish it was that simple."
With a complicated swish of her wand, a brain scan was pulled up. At first glance, there appeared nothing wrong with it. Then, it looked like the scan was cut in half. The entire inside of her brain was blinking a bright red color.
"Do you see this dear?" Morgan said motioning to the colors. "This is your limbic system. It's where your emotions and memory are located. This is what was injured."
Hermione stared at it for many moments, as the healer explained how parts of the brain were responsible for certain functions. Her memory loss is not unusual for an injury like hers Then she took a long breath before she finally resorted to begging.
"Just get Ron to come here. He should be my emergency contact."
Healer Morgan summoned a clipboard that had documents on it. She shook her head. "It appears that you changed your emergency contact 6 years ago. I can still contact him if you insist, but let me give you some advice-"
"Ask him to come now." Hermione interrupted in a severe tone.
"I will ask him to join us tomorrow. Visiting hours are almost over." Morgan said as she left the room. A solemn look on her face.
Malfoy didn't return to her room, she didn't care to ask what happened to him.
Hermione's brain was scrambling to make sense of everything that was going on. She was in such an unfamiliar environment. There were so many unknowns, it felt like a deep lake. Each unfamiliar depth was too hard to even contemplate.
So she focused on what she knew.
She was in the hospital.
She had some sort of accident.
She thought it was 1999 and the healer thought it was 2005.
Malfoy claimed to be her husband.
Ron was nowhere to be found.
She repeated it.
Over and over.
Again and again.
She kept saying her list until the blood pounding in her ears captured all of her focus. Her chest felt close to bursting from the anxiety of it all. She dug her fingers into her palms in a useless attempt to win back some control. It was unsuccessful. Her breaths kept coming faster and faster.
She had to leave. Needed to get out of there. She wanted to wake up from her nightmare. She couldn't do whatever it is she was expected to.
Unable to take it anymore, she threw the blankets off her legs and ignored her dizziness as she practically sprinted to the bathroom in her room.
When the water she splashed in her face didn't wake her up, she took a look at herself in the mirror.
She watched as shaking fingers reached up to touch the face. She was older. Her hair was longer than she was used to. Her skin was clear, having lost the blemishes that mortified her as a teenager. Her figure fuller, as though she was not the same girl who survived on foraged foods while on the run.
She was not the same gawky girl that had helped save the Wizarding World. She didn't know who this stranger was.
"Oh my god." Her reflection said to her. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Hermione was a girl- no woman, who relied on facts. She depended on evidence to form her decisions and reactions. But that night, she refused to listen to the overwhelming amount of facts that pointed to a truth that she couldn't believe.
If she allowed herself to believe that 6 years had passed by without her realizing, that may mean the other things that she was told could also be true. The thought chilled her blood.
The pain in her chest turned into a dull roar as she slumped down on the nearest wall. She allowed a few tears to finally leak from her eyes as she struggled to rectify the impossible with the proof that had stared right back at her.
She didn't know how much time had passed with her sitting on the ground feeling miserable for herself, but eventually, she lifted herself from the ground and began to stagger back to her bed.
She paused looking out the window of her room. Malfoy was sleeping on a chair outside of her room. His neck was crooked and bent at a strange angle. She saw his eyebrows furrowed and arms that were pulled tightly across his chest.
He looked like he was from waking. His face was absent of the normal serenity that usually accompanies sleep.
She gaped at him. Her mind filled with questions she didn't know how to ask. How could someone so evil end up married to her?
Her mind, always playing devil's advocate (even with herself), argued with her. Her sharp thoughts stabbed her.
You thought he changed. Why would you try to keep a man you claim is evil out of Azkaban?
She ignored herself and crawled back into her bed. She shut her eyes to feign sleep when she heard footsteps coming towards her room.
"How is she?" She heard a voice whisper outside from outside her room. She opened her eyes slightly to see Malfoy standing outside of her door waiting to accost the healer. This wasn't Healer Morgan, this healer was younger, and a man.
"Mr. Malfoy, like we've discussed, she seems to have completely forgotten the last six years of her life. In her mind, it is 1999. Our current treatment plan involves re-introducing her to information slowly. Her brain is fragile as it is."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that we have to be cautious. If you just jump back into all of the memories you have with her, there's a chance it can overwhelm her and cause permanent damage."
"Are you saying that I'm just to pretend my wife isn't my wife?" Draco demanded, as close to yelling as he possibly could while still maintaining his whisper.
"No sir. I'm saying that you should wait until she is stronger to talk about her past. There's still a chance her memories could come back on their own. If you overwhelm her, the trauma from it may cause her neural pathways to be cut off forever."
The healer's voice was calm as he paused for a moment.
"I will discuss your case tomorrow with Healer Morgan and her entire team will determine a final course of treatment."
"And in the meantime?" Draco asked through his teeth.
"Give her some space. She must be overwhelmed."
"Thank you," Draco muttered sarcastically. "Thank you for giving me permission, no, encouraging me to let my wife pretend she's still in a relationship with her ex-boyfriend."
"Mr. Malfoy-" the healer sputtered.
"Unless you have anything else to say about her care, I am finished talking to you." He said, each word precise. The healer stalked away. Hermione scoffed at his insolent behavior. Typical Malfoy.
"Hermione. Please come back to me." a broken whisper came in from the doorway.
No.
She didn't expect that from him.
She shook off the pang of sympathy she felt for him as she turned on her side so she didn't face the window. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to ignore all of the thoughts demanding her attention.
That night she dreamt of blonde bullies, failed relationships, and the 90s.
