Chapter 4: Ginny Weasley
When Hermione returned to her room, Crookshanks was waiting for her on the bed. He picked his head up and cocked it at her, but she couldn't find the words to answer his unspoken question. She kicked off her shoes and collapsed into sobs on the bed. Crookshanks curled up next to her and purred loudly.
"Have we been in this position before, Crooks?" Hermione asked through her tears. "How many times has Harry told me he loved me? Does it always reduce me to tears? Why?"
Crookshanks merely continued purring in response.
After the initial onslaught of emotions - that had hit Hermione like a hundred spells at once - had passed, and her sobs had subsided, she laid back on the bed and took deep breaths as she watched the ceiling spin. Crookshanks climbed onto her stomach and she focused on the feeling of him. His comforting weight, the vibrations of his purrs, and the soft fur against her hand as she petted him.
Her mind was still spinning from all the wine she'd had earlier but she resolved to lie there and wait for the spinning to stop. She was going to think through this clearly. She owed that to Harry and if she had to stay up all night until she figured everything out, she would do just that.
An hour later, when the fog in her mind was clearer and the ceiling had stopped spinning, she sat up to test her sobriety. Everything felt stable. Her heart was still fluttering, but she guessed that was more from Harry's revelation than from alcohol at this point. She took a deep breath and pulled Crookshanks into her lap.
"Harry loves me," Hermione said aloud.
It felt impossible and fitting all at once. She knew there was no point in dwelling on the statement further. It was true. There was no denying that after tonight. The next logical question was, "Do I love him?" and she spoke that aloud, too.
The answer came easily. Absolutely. Definitely. One-hundred thousand percent, yes. Hermione had always loved Harry, even before her accident. She'd always felt more for him than was strictly appropriate for a friend and had even acknowledged her feelings a few times. But since it had been clear Harry didn't feel the same way towards her, she'd buried them.
Now, when she tried to access those feelings she'd hidden away, they were so much stronger and deeper than she ever remembered. She assumed that meant Harry's point earlier about her growing over the years, even though she didn't remember it, was true, because her feelings for him had certainly grown.
So, he loved her and she loved him. Then why weren't they together? Why did she always let herself forget this truth?
Harry's words echoed through her mind: "I dare you to remember, but I know you won't."
"Yes, I will," she insisted.
Hermione stood up quickly, rousing Crookshanks from his slumber. "Oops. Sorry, Crooks." She placed him on the foot of the bed, then sat at the desk. She picked up her quill, dipped it in the ink, and wrote on the calendar: Harry is in love with me and I'm in love with him.
She would certainly see that tomorrow. Then what? Would she question it? Without having spent the whole night with him, without experiencing his touch, without hearing his heartfelt reassurances, would she believe it? Would she be able to access the part of her heart she was feeling now, the part that truly, deeply, loved Harry back, without all those experiences to unlock it?
Or would he have to get her there every day? How long would it take? Several hours? Longer? What if she didn't start loving him this fully until after lunch each day? Or after dinner? How was that fair to Harry?
Hermione hated being bombarded with questions she didn't know the answer to. She searched around the desk, desperate for something, anything to help her. The notebook was useless, it was blank save for four questions she was supposed to answer each night:
What was the best part of today? What was the worst? What are you most afraid of right now? What do you want out of life?
Hermione snorted. The notebook hardly seemed thick enough to be able to contain the full answer to all those questions. She put it aside and started to undo the panel at the back of the desk. She released the latch and lowered it to reveal a large, wooden box.
That was it. That was where all the information she was supposed to view every month was. That was probably where she'd hidden all the extra notes and photos she typically reviewed each morning but had put away for her "one day at a time" challenge. And that box probably contained her history with Harry.
She knew she wasn't supposed to look in there, especially since it was just the fifth day of the month, but she didn't care. She had to know what was going on. She had to know why Harry was so sad, why Ron had said what he had, why Hermione's heart felt like it was literally breaking.
Hermione reached for the box when her right hand touched something else. It was a small, paperback book leaning against the box. She pulled it out and looked at it curiously.
The Longest Night, by Ranata Suzuki. She didn't recognize the author or the title. She flipped through it and the book opened, naturally, to a collection of poems titled: Letters to the Sun from the Dark Side of the Moon.
Hermione inspected the spine and saw that it was broken so the book would always open to this section. Interesting. She went back to the page and began to read.
Once upon a time, the Moon loved the Sun. Until...The End.
Hermione's heart thumped. "Yeah," Hermione whispered back, "that was depressing." She read the next poem.
I call him my Sun because he is the center of my universe. For me, time starts and ends with him.
I call him my Sun because to me, there was a long … drawn out, almost unending stretch of nothingness before he first dawned on me… But once he did - it was as though life itself had begun.
I call him my Sun because I watched as he disappeared over the horizon one day … knowing I would never see him again…
And it's been dark ever since.
Hermione was crying now. This felt so...real...familiar… She was struggling to find the right word. Relevant. That was it. This was referring to Harry and her, obviously. He was her Sun, simply put. Always had been and now, with this new life she was living, it was truer than ever before.
Her eyes scanned the next page and stopped on one line: The only thing in this world I wanted more than you was your happiness.
Her heart stopped. This was the answer. She didn't need to open that wooden box. She understood exactly what had happened. Why Harry was sad, why Ron was angry, why hearing Harry tell her he loved her had made her cry. Why this section of the book was so well-worn. And more than anything, why she always let herself forget.
She couldn't be with Harry. What kind of life would that be for him? Having to convince his girlfriend she was in love with him every day. Reliving the same conversations over and over again. And what happened if he was cross with her, asked her to do things differently, and she forgot?
And a physical relationship would be a disaster. She was a virgin. Was she going to think it was her first time every time they shagged? That would be terrible for Harry. And kids - hah! - absolutely not. Everyone knew Harry desperately wanted a family and she couldn't give that to him.
Hermione was crying fully now as she looked down at the book of poems, the words too blurry to read, but it didn't matter, they were etched across her heart. It probably went like this every time - a rush of hope, excitement, determination to remember. Then the questions, the searching, finding this book, reading those lines, and ultimately deciding that if she truly loved Harry and wanted the best for him, she had to let him go.
And now - it was time for her to tell him. She had to get up, walk downstairs, knock on his door, and tell him why they couldn't be together. But as soon as she thought about it, she knew she couldn't do it. If he fought back at all, she'd cave in a second. And then she'd be right back here tomorrow night, agonizing over all the same things. So, she decided to do the next best thing.
She grabbed a parchment, tore it in half and held her quill above the page. How to explain? She looked up at the open book of poems and copied over the line that said it all: The only thing in this world I wanted more than you was your happiness.
Harry would know what it meant. He'd be hurt but one day, he'd move on. He wouldn't hold out for her forever. It sounded like Ron and Ginny were already pushing him to find someone else. Hermione just had to keep putting Harry first and then, eventually, he'd lose interest; see that a relationship with her was impossible.
When Hermione stood up to take the letter downstairs, she faltered. Maybe she should float it down, because if she was right outside his door, how was she supposed to keep herself from barging inside? From begging him to change her mind?
Crookshanks was sitting up on the bed now, watching her curiously. Hermione held the note out to him. "Can you take this downstairs and push it under Harry's door?"
Crookshanks let out a small meow and took the letter in his mouth. Hermione opened the door for him and waited in the doorframe, straining her ears for any sounds. She wanted Harry to wake up, she wanted to see a shard of light appear in the stairwell, she wanted-
Crookshanks was back, his mouth empty. Hermione's heart dropped. It was done. She closed the door and returned to the desk. She put the book of poems back, restored the panel on the desk, and pulled the notebook in front of her.
Crookshanks, sensing she needed comfort, was rubbing against her legs and purring loudly. Hermione read the four questions she was supposed to answer and sat there looking at them for a long time. Eventually, she picked up her quill and began writing as tears streamed down her face.
It took Hermione a long time to wake up the next morning. She touched her left cheek, expecting to feel something there, but it was clear. She rolled over and groaned. Her chest was tight and her heart was pounding steadily against her rib cage. She felt like it was trying to tell her something.
There was a half-remembered dream at the edges of her consciousness but she couldn't reach it and the shards of light coming in through the curtains were chasing the dream away.
What was it?...There was something she was supposed to remember…
My parents!
Hermione shot up in the bed. She spotted a letter on her bedside table and as she read it, tears sprung into her eyes. She read it again, then went to her desk and read everything she could find.
After she'd studied the large calendar, the summaries of her friends, and a letter she'd left herself on August 3rd that further explained her "personal challenge," she felt bereft. It was as if there was a question deep inside her that she'd been expecting to find an answer to in this pile of parchments, but had not.
She placed her hand over her heart and took several deep breaths, trying - in vain - to relieve the tension there. But no matter how many breaths she took, it wouldn't go away. She stood up, got dressed, and slowly made her way downstairs.
Hermione found Ginny in the sitting room watching Muggle cartoons. "Ginny?"
"Oh. Hey there, sleepy head. I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to wake up."
"What are you doing here? I thought I lived with Harry." Hermione came into the room and took a seat next to Ginny on the sofa.
"You do. He's busy today so you're stuck with me."
"Oh," Hermione replied, trying to keep the disappointment out of her tone. Why was she disappointed? She loved Ginny just as much as she loved Harry and Ron. In many ways, they were closer.
Hermione took a moment to study Ginny's appearance. She looked very different, but Hermione had been expecting this, it had been in her summary. She had short hair now that stopped at her chin. She had a small stud nose-ring and a tattoo on her upper arm. Hermione thought it was something related to Quidditch and wondered if it was her team's mascot. She forgot the name. If she'd known she'd be seeing Ginny today, she would have memorized her summary.
"You look good," Hermione announced. "Very…"
"...cool?" Ginny finished with a grin. "Your word, not mine."
Hermione nodded. This was so weird. How would she ever get used to this? Oh, right, she never would. That was the problem. Hermione sighed and laid back against the sofa. She looked around the room. Everything was new, including the television. It all looked nice.
Ginny tapped her arm with something cold and Hermione turned to see her holding a glass of water. "You probably need this. As I understand it, you had quite a lot to drink last night."
"Oh. Really? Why?" Hermione took the glass and drained it, then scanned her body. She did have a headache, but the severest pain was the tightness in her chest. That wouldn't be from alcohol.
"You and the boys went to a ball last night. That answers where you did the drinking but not why. I don't know that part, you'll have to ask Harry, later."
"Oh." Hermione turned back toward the telly.
She and Ginny watched the cartoons for a few minutes before Ginny turned to Hermione and said, "No offense to Muggles or anything, but this program is incredibly stupid."
Hermione shook her head. "This is for kids. It's supposed to be stupid."
Ginny shrugged, lifted the remote, and turned off the telly. Then she turned on the couch to face Hermione, pulling one of her legs up and wrapping her arms around it. "How are you? I don't usually see you first thing in the morning when it's all still settling in," she admitted.
Hermione had no idea how to answer that. How was she? Terrible. She'd just found out the thing she valued most, her mind, was permanently damaged. And here she was hungover, suffering from a pain in her chest that seemed familiar, but that she couldn't place, and weirdly defending Muggle cartoons to Ginny. She had certainly been better.
Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "Tell me honestly. How bad is this?"
"What? Your memory loss?
Hermione kept her eyes closed and nodded. She knew if she had met Harry or Ron first and asked this question, they would have lied and said she was fine - even if it weren't true. But she could trust Ginny to tell her the truth.
"It's not great," Ginny started, placing a hand on Hermione's leg. "However, you have a really good life. You do all sorts of different things, still manage to work, your friends adore you - and - well, you don't remember it. But - it's still happening, and we're here to remind you of it. It's not so bad."
The feeling in Hermione's chest said otherwise. She was about to say so, then realized Ginny wouldn't understand. Only Harry and Ron would get it. When that thought popped into her mind, she figured out why the feeling in her chest felt familiar. It was that hollowness that had settled in anytime she'd had to wear the Horcrux. That sensation that made everything around her feel empty and hopeless. If her life was so good, then why did she feel like this?
"It's Sunday and we always go to the Burrow," Ginny was saying. "It's a tradition."
Hermione perked up. "Will Harry and Ron be there?"
"No. They're spending the day alone together. Catching up."
"But you said Harry was busy."
"He's busy with Ron. They have plans to hang out."
"Don't they work together?" Hermione remembered reading that they both worked in the Auror Office. "Don't they see each other all the time there?"
"Is Harry not allowed a break?" Ginny replied sharply.
Hermione leaned back, alarmed by her harsh tone. "I - what? A break from what?"
Ginny dropped her head onto her knee and let out a long sigh. "Nothing. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm in a weird mood."
Hermione was still reeling. What was wrong with Harry? Why wasn't he here? What did he need a break from? Her? It must be her. What had she done? Is that why Ginny seemed angry with her?
"Come here," Ginny said, shifting closer to Hermione. "You look like you need a hug."
Hermione stayed in place and waited for Ginny to initiate the hug, just in case. Ginny wrapped her arms around Hermione and gripped her firmly. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Really. This is why I never get morning duty."
"Who usually gets morning duty?" Hermione asked.
"Harry. Since he lives here."
"But, today...he needs a break?"
Ginny leaned back and put her hands on Hermione's shoulders. Her expression was soft now. "No, Hermione. He's fine, really. I saw him this morning and he was hungover, like you, but otherwise fine. Now you - you don't look well. Are you okay? Besides feeling hungover, is there anything else?"
Hermione thought of the pain in her chest again. Should she tell Ginny? Or maybe she'd just unwittingly walk into another sensitive situation that would set Ginny off. Ginny was a great friend, but she had a terrible temper and Hermione wasn't in the right mood to weather it today.
She plastered a smile on her face. "I could use a hangover potion, but after that, I should be good."
Ginny jumped up. "I know where you two keep your potions. Why don't you go take a shower and when you get back, I'll have the potion ready."
Hermione nodded and picked herself up from the couch. Getting ready seemed like a gargantuan task in her current, dark mood, but she could do it. She'd just take it one step at a time.
After spending most of the day at the Burrow, Ginny took Hermione to dinner at a pub near Grimmauld Place. Ginny had just dropped her off at the house an hour ago and asked if Hermione wanted company, but Hermione had said she didn't mind being alone.
She'd been surrounded by people all day and thought it would be good to get some time to herself. But a few minutes after Ginny left, she regretted her decision and almost called her back. She didn't, though, because she was a grown witch and should be able to handle an evening by herself.
She made her way to the library she'd discovered earlier in the day and found a large book on the bottom shelf. As she read it, her heart felt like it was being torn into pieces, but she couldn't put it down for some reason. She recalled the feeling from right after she'd awoken this morning, like there was a question she needed to find the answer to, and she thought, maybe, she'd find the answer here.
She was engrossed in her reading so didn't hear Harry until he was standing in the doorway and said, "Hi."
Hermione's heart skipped. She put the book down and slowly crossed the room. Harry looked different, but in some way, familiar. She stopped in front of him and tears sprung into her eyes, but she had no idea why. She blinked them back. Why was she such an emotional wreck? Was it always like this?
"Harry. Hi."
Harry's eyes were scanning her face and she tried to put a smile there, but she couldn't do it this time. She seemed to have reached her acting limit for the day.
"Bad day?" he asked, though he seemed to already know the answer. He looked guilty for some reason.
She knew it wasn't worth lying, so she ignored the question. "How was your day? How is Ron? Everyone missed you at the Burrow."
That was an understatement. It had seemed like every person at the Burrow, even the ones she didn't know, had asked her where Harry was. By the tenth time she wanted to scream, "I don't know! I don't have a memory! Leave me alone!"
It was obvious that he didn't typically skip out on this Sunday tradition. And while Ginny didn't give any further indication about why he and Ron so desperately needed to spend all day alone, Hermione was pretty sure it had something to do with her.
Harry cocked his head toward the sofa. "Let's sit and you can tell me…" His voice trailed off. She saw him looking at the large book she'd been reading. "There's a warning on that for a reason."
Hermione didn't reply. When Harry picked it up and moved to close it, she caught his arm. "Wait. I wasn't done! I - uh - had a question."
"Okay…"
Hermione took the book back and saw Harry scanning her face again. What was he looking for there? She dropped his gaze and resumed her seat on the couch, crossing her legs and propping the book open on her lap.
Harry took a seat next to her. "What's your question?"
Hermione bit her lip and looked down at the page that contained countless notes she'd written but had no memory of writing. "Uh. I think I need to work up to it. Tell me about your day."
Harry shrugged and leaned back on the sofa. "It was nothing special. I caught up with Ron. We spent most of the day flying, went for a swim at a lake we found, then dinner at a pub. How about you? What was your impression of the Burrow? It's different, right?"
Hermione nodded. "There were a lot more kids than I remembered. And I thought it was loud before."
"Ah. Yes. There are so many birthdays these days, you have no idea. I'm surprised there wasn't one being celebrated today. I guess we're in a rare, off week."
"Right. Last week would have been yours." She looked at Harry and he nodded, avoiding her gaze. And next week will be Ginny's, won't it?" Harry nodded again, keeping his eyes focused on the far wall.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Ginny seemed - um - upset with me. Did I do something? If so, I'm terribly sorry. I never meant-"
"No, no, no," Harry placed a hand on her arm. "Don't worry about Ginny. She's just stressed. Her team is trying to make it into the finals for the first time in years, but they aren't favored to win their next match. You know how she can get. It wasn't you."
Hermione could tell Harry was hiding something but didn't press the issue.
"Was that your big question?"
Hermione shook her head and looked down at the book. "It was about this."
Harry leaned forward and began reading the page upside down. "Ah. Theory four. One of your favorites."
Hermione traced her fingers along the title at the top of the page. Theory Four: To enjoy the act of living.
"This is a lot of research. It must have taken days, weeks even. How do I spread research like this across multiple days?"
Harry shrugged. "It's not as hard as you'd think. Occasionally, you'll have this urge to dive into a subject and when that happens, you'll leave a note for yourself the next morning to keep it going with a summary of what you covered the day before. It usually comes in spurts - you'll dive into this research, or other things, like trying to create a new potion. You go hard for a few days, then burn out and take a step back."
Hermione hummed. She couldn't imagine being overcome with a desire to research all day in her current, dark mood.
"I know for this book in particular," he continued, "you need to be in the right mindset. Hence the warning," he added sternly.
Hermione ignored the admonishment. "You said this one was my favorite." She glanced down at the notes she'd made at the bottom of the page, stopping on the last one. She read it aloud. "'Because of my condition, I should be better at living in the moment than most and should find it easy to simply enjoy the present. I sort of hope that out of all the theories about the meaning of life that this is the answer, because I think I can actually do this one.'"
Hermione closed the book and looked back up at Harry.
He still had a hand on her arm and squeezed it. "Why does that make you sad?"
Tears flooded Hermione's eyes again and this time, a few tear drops fell down her face. Harry wiped them away quickly with the back of his hand. "Tell me what's on your mind, Hermione," he whispered.
Hermione nodded and looked down at the closed book in her lap. "I woke up feeling...sad." That was not a big enough word for it, but she didn't know how else to describe it. "And when Ginny said we were going to spend the day at the Burrow, I came upstairs and got dressed and thought to myself in the shower: 'Okay - this is your life. You truly do live it one day at a time. So, being sad isn't helping anyone, so just, be present and enjoy the day.'"
She stopped talking to take several deep breaths.
"That sounds reasonable," Harry said, his tone gentle.
Hermione looked up at him. "I tried, Harry. I tried so hard but I'm so, so...sad doesn't quite describe it. And, I don't know, I was just pretending and then I saw this and if this is how I'm supposed to live a meaningful life, if this is one of the only theories I can adhere to with my condition and I can't even manage this - then what does that mean?"
Harry took the book and placed it on the ground. "You do enjoy your life, Hermione. But you have bad days, we all do. They just seem worse to you because you can't remember the good days."
"Maybe you just think I've been having good days. Maybe, I've just been pretending this whole time as this ache in my chest gets worse and worse. Maybe, years of acting is finally catching up with me and, and-" she cut off. Her tears were flowing freely now and she couldn't talk through her sobs.
Harry pulled Hermione onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her as she cried into his chest. She'd been holding back these tears all day and now that she was finally letting them fall, the pain in her chest was easing slightly. Harry leaned his head back against the sofa and absently stroked her hair as she cried.
As Hermione's sobs subsided, she focused on the feeling of Harry's lungs rising and falling under her head as he took long, deliberate breaths. She chanced a look up at him and saw him staring blankly at the ceiling, his own eyes wet with tears. She sat up and climbed out of his lap. "You're sad, too. Why?"
Harry took his glasses off and wiped his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand. He let out a long sigh before looking back at her. "I don't like seeing you sad, especially when I know I could have prevented it by being here this morning - I just - couldn't." His green eyes were pleading. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. You can't be here every day. You're not my keeper or anything."
Harry sighed again and put his glasses back on. "I promise you do have good days. A lot of them. Yesterday was one. We had loads of fun at the ball, danced for hours, and drank way too much. I'm sure you felt that all day which probably didn't help with your mood."
Hermione was chewing her lip as she tried to puzzle through what he'd said. "You said you could have prevented it? My sadness? How?"
He shrugged. "The morning is always hard. You've learned about the accident, are trying to piece everything together, and if anything disrupts you in the first few hours - a sour Ginny, for example - it's hard to enjoy the rest of the day because your mind is set to wondering what you did wrong, how you could possibly be living a good life, stuff like that."
"Oh."
"But, full disclosure, me being here isn't a guarantee. You've had bad days that start with me doing everything right. Like I said, we all have bad days."
"That's fair. But have I ever managed to have a good day that didn't start with you?"
This question caught Harry off guard. He took a moment to consider, running his hand along the stubble on his jaw and staring at the closed book on the ground. "In the beginning, yes. But not lately," he said eventually, his eyes sad.
Hermione had no idea what to do with that information, so she catalogued it away, then realized it would be gone the next day. Oh well. She had more pressing matters to consider right now. Harry said she had been happy just last night.
She closed her eyes and tried to feel that happiness, the carefree part of herself that had danced and laughed and drank too much. The memories were gone, but the feelings might still be there. She couldn't find them, which just made her start to cry again.
Harry pulled her back into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
"I'm so sorry," she said through her sobs. "I - I - there's this feeling in my chest that's been there all day and I can't get it to go away. I, I don't know, Harry. I know I'm making no sense."
"Shh, try to relax. You don't need to explain it to me. I understand. Tomorrow will be better." Hermione could feel Harry's words vibrating in his chest and it was comforting, being this close to him. "I'll make pancakes; that always works."
Hermione lifted her head. "Pancakes? You made those Wednesday. I saw it on my calendar. Was I sad then, too?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Harry leaned his head back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. "You're longing for something you don't think you can have because of this new life you're living. But you can, Hermione." He lifted his head to look at her and his eyes were bright and intense. "You're allowed to be happy. You need to stop worrying about everyone around you and let yourself be happy."
Hermione was confused. Hadn't she just told him she wasn't able to force herself to enjoy the day? And now he was implying it was as easy as choosing happiness. But she didn't dwell on it, since it was clear there was something upsetting Harry. She was reminded of that time they'd spent in the tent, both feeling very sorry for themselves and worried that there was no way they'd be able to win the war.
This felt like that, a little. But the war was over, they were supposed to be happy. Harry was supposed to be happy.
"You're not supposed to be sad, Harry. It's all done. The horcruxes are gone, Voldemort's dead, and we made it to the other side. You're supposed to be happy now, enjoying life. That's all I ever wanted." Maybe this was why she was so sad. It wasn't because of Harry's cryptic reasoning but simply this: Harry was sad, so she was sad.
"You didn't want you to be happy?" he said challengingly. "Just me?"
The only thing in this world I wanted more than you was your happiness. The phrase popped into Hermione's mind, but she had no idea where she'd heard it. It caused the ache in her chest to intensify and she began to cry again.
"Shit. Sorry. Don't cry. Honestly, I'm surprised you have any tears left." Harry had his hands on her face and was wiping her cheeks with his thumbs.
"We're a mess," she declared when she managed to get her tears back under control.
"Yeah. But we've been here before." She knew he was referring to those months in the tent. She smiled. They had been through much worse and managed to find their way through. They could do it again. They could survive one bad day.
Hermione pushed back a few pieces of hair that fallen onto Harry's forehead. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she froze. This was intimate. More intimate than she ever remembered them being. But it felt completely normal.
She was sitting on Harry's lap with one arm wrapped around his neck while she fixed his hair with her other hand. She tried to recall how they'd ended up in this position. He'd been the one to pull her into his lap, hadn't he?
"Hermione?" Harry's voice cut into her thoughts. He was looking at her, concerned.
She shook her head and tried to remember what she'd been thinking about. Their shared melancholy. Right. She opened her mouth and almost asked if it was okay that she was sitting on him like this, but at the last moment she changed the question, not wanting to give him a chance to ask her to move away. "Why are you sad? Is there anything I can do to help?"
Harry nodded. "You can stop looking so miserable. That would be a great help."
She gave him a sad smile. "Okay. I'll try. How about we play the game?"
Harry groaned. "The game we played thousands of times but that I never once managed to beat you at?"
She shrugged. "There's a first time for everything. And my mind is damaged so maybe now you can beat me."
His lips turned up slightly. "Dark joke."
"Funny, though."
"Fine, we can play Ghost." He sounded annoyed, but she could tell it was just a show.
She shifted in his lap and linked her hands behind his neck. Her thoughts puzzled again at the strangeness of their position, but it felt natural, and the pain in her chest was lighter than it had been all day and she was beginning to think it was because of her proximity to Harry.
"Okay," she said, focusing back on Harry. "I'll choose the theme and you start. Let's do words related to Hogwarts."
"Very well. A."
"C," she said quickly.
Harry stopped to think, then he rolled his eyes. "Shit. I already lost. Accio and Acromantula will both end on me."
"There are other words out there that start with AC."
"Are there?" He stopped to think again, biting his lip as she did so.
"Do I need to set a timer?" she asked with a smirk.
"Fine. I'll just go with C."
"I."
"O. Okay, Accio. I lose and that's a G for me. You're too good at this." He tickled her side.
"Stop!" she cried as she squirmed and swatted his arm away. "You start again."
"Okay. H."
"E."
Harry stopped to think again and she could see him spelling under his breath as he counted on his fingers. "Harry?" she asked after a few moments.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry for whatever I did to upset you. I'm sorry you feel like you need to be here with me every morning to set me off right. I'm sorry to burden you with this, and I'm sorry - "
Harry pressed his fingers to her lips. "No. You are not a burden. You are the most important person in my life and I would be completely lost without you." Hermione tried to protest and he cut her off. "No arguments. Now stop trying to distract me. R."
Hermione couldn't help but smile as Harry lowered his hand from her mouth. "H E R." Her mind reached for all the words she knew that started with HER. Damn. He'd got her.
"Now there's Hermit," Harry said smugly. "Which I think is Hogwarts-related, because of Filch. And, of course, there's Hermione. Both of those would end on you."
"Yeah. I'd thought of those. I was hoping you'd pick L and spell Helga."
"You didn't even think of your own name?"
She swatted his chest. "Shut up. I'm thinking."
They were quiet for a few moments, then Harry broke the silence. "Quick question, while you think. Were you planning to climb out of my lap sometime tonight? Because my legs are falling asleep."
Hermione blushed and moved back to her side of the sofa. "Sorry. You know I get clingy when I'm upset."
Harry stretched his legs out and rubbed his thighs, then shifted so he was right next to her and wrapped an arm around her. "You can be clingy. I just wanted the feeling in my legs back."
Hermione laid her head on his chest. "Is this really okay?" She was asking to be polite but really hoped he wouldn't push her off. She felt more secure in his arms than she had all day.
In answer, Harry wrapped his second arm around her and pulled her close. "H E R," he said. "Stop stalling."
"I'm thinking."
"About how you're going to lose this round?" he quipped.
Hermione smiled, and unlike all the other ones she'd worn today, this one was real.
According to Hermione's calendar, she was spending the day with Ginny today, which was why she was giving Ginny's summary a thorough review this morning.
Ginny Weasley
Ginny has been playing Quidditch professionally since she graduated from Hogwarts. She's a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, an all-witch Quidditch Team. According to Ron and Harry, the team is pretty good and generally lands in the middle of the rankings each year.
Ginny has a new look these days, the theme of which seems to be: "things that will most irk Molly." She's also bisexual and is dating the Keeper on her team, Ruby Reynolds. She and Harry broke during her last year at Hogwarts and are still very close friends. Their breakup was mutual and there isn't any awkwardness between them.
Ginny lives in a flat nearby with another Quidditch player (Alba, who plays for some other team) and as you can imagine - 95% of her conversations revolve around Quidditch. Luckily, you won't remember them!
Hermione smiled at the last line. It was surreal, joking about something so awful. But she figured that was probably one of the best ways to cope with her condition. She rubbed her eyes, which felt strained, yawned, then slowly began to make her way downstairs. When she reached the stairwell heading for the ground floor, she heard two voices downstairs. As she approached, she recognized Ginny and Harry speaking.
Hermione stopped in the hall, a few feet from the doorway to the kitchen, and hid in the shadows. She could see Harry and Ginny inside. Harry was standing at the counter, making tea, while Ginny sat at the large table. She'd turned her chair to face Harry and had her legs stretched out in front of her.
"You didn't make breakfast?" she was asking. "That's why I came over here so early."
"There's cereal." Harry motioned toward one of the cabinets. His head turned slightly and Hermione saw that he looked different. He had facial hair and his haircut seemed different too, but she couldn't be sure since right now, his hair was a giant mess. He was wearing his pajamas and seemed to have just woken up. As if on cue, he yawned.
"But I can get that at my flat," Ginny whined. She also looked different. As the summary said, she'd certainly made changes that would upset Molly. She had short hair, a small nose ring, and a tattoo on the top of her arm. "Do you have bacon or eggs or anything hot?"
"This is hot," Harry shook the teapot. "If you want something else, then get up off your lazy arse and make it yourself."
Ginny sighed, then stood up and grabbed a mug from the cabinet and held it out for Harry. "Fine. I'll take tea."
Harry poured tea for her, then himself. When he put the teapot down, Ginny grabbed his chin. "Let me look at you." She studied his face and Harry looked annoyed but stayed still for the examination.
"You look good," Ginny announced.
"Yeah? Interested in getting back together? Finally finished dating witches?" Harry gently kicked her on the back of the legs before going to take a seat at the table.
Ginny crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. "You know that's not what I meant. But if you need me to tell you you're handsome - if the countless articles about what a wonderful, eligible bachelor you are aren't enough - then I can do that."
Ginny grabbed her mug and turned her chair back the right way before taking a seat in it. "And no, I'm not finished dating witches," she continued. "It's so convenient dating a teammate. There are no schedule conflicts to deal with."
"Breaking up with a teammate...less convenient," Harry said teasingly.
"No kidding," Ginny muttered under her breath.
The two of them sat at the table for several moments, sipping on their tea in silence while Hermione tried to work up the courage to go join them. She was alarmed by their easy banter. It was normal for them, that part wasn't alarming, she just didn't know how she'd possibly fit into the conversation. All the information she had about them was irrelevant, two years old, stale.
Before Hermione could worry further, Ginny said loudly, "I think she really believes we can't see her."
"I know. She thinks she's so sneaky. That's the Slytherin side coming through." They both turned towards the hall and smiled at Hermione.
Hermione blushed and shuffled into the doorway. "Uh. Hi. Sorry. I was just-"
"You're fine." Harry stood up and crossed the room. When he reached her, he pulled her into a hug. "You do know Disillusionment Charms, by the way. I can show you later."
"Wait, what?" Hermione stepped back. "How is that possible?"
"I'll explain later. But it's time for breakfast now. Are you hungry? I can make you eggs or bacon."
Harry turned to wink at Ginny, who had risen from the table and was standing just behind him. Ginny rolled her eyes and pushed Harry out of the way. "My turn," she announced before wrapping her arms tightly around Hermione. "Good morning, Hermione. Welcome to your new life." She lowered her voice and added in a whisper, "Ask for bacon."
"Yeah. I'll have bacon," Hermione said as she pulled away from Ginny. "But I can make it."
Harry got the pan out for Hermione as she rummaged through the fridge. When Hermione was cooking at the stove a few minutes later, sipping on a mug full of tea, Ginny turned to Harry and asked, "What did you two do this week?"
"Oh!" Hermione chimed in. "I know this one." She'd seen a letter about it on her desk.
Harry nodded in approval. "Okay, then, enlighten us Hermione."
"I helped with a case that is going in front of the Wizengamot next week. A young witch was defending herself against her abusive husband and ended up hurting him pretty badly and he pressed charges. I worked on researching precedent and organizing a defense strategy for most of the week and am taking a break today but will start again tomorrow to make sure the team is ready for the trial on Wednesday."
Hermione looked to Harry for confirmation. "Yes. But saying you worked 'most of the week' is a bit of an understatement. It was more like all waking hours of your day with very short bathroom breaks. Even while eating, you didn't take breaks and levitated books in front of your face."
"Oh." Hermione got the sense he was annoyed but he turned and gave her a smile.
"It's for a good cause," he said, "and I'm glad you're taking a break today. If you hadn't agreed to this day off with Ginny last night, I was tempted to write it on your calendar anyway."
Hermione nodded and turned back to the bacon, which was finished cooking. She transferred it to a plate and brought it to the table as she considered Harry's words.
"I guess you could do that," she said as she sat down. "You could take away or alter any of the notes I leave for myself and completely change my plan for the next day. For the next week, month..." her voice trailed off.
Harry grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. He said insistently, his green eyes boring intensely into hers, "I would never do that. Ever. I know how out of control you feel with this memory loss and I know how much you rely on us to carry on your wishes day to day and I would never abuse that trust. It was a joke, that's all."
"He's right," Ginny added. "He's actually a bit obsessive about honoring your past self's wishes. Even when your past self is being completely - ow!" She cut off and Hermione could tell Harry had kicked her under the table.
He was glaring at Ginny as he moved to change the subject. "What are your plans for today, Ginny?"
She stared at him a moment longer and they seemed to be having a silent conversation. Eventually, Ginny shrugged and motioned toward the window. "We're going to enjoy the lovely weather."
Hermione looked to the window and saw it was a bright, clear day. "Wait. Is that code for flying?" she asked, her stomach dropping at the thought.
"It is," Ginny said matter-of-factly before taking a bite of bacon.
Hermione looked over at Harry, who gave her a reassuring smile. "You're actually a decent flier these days. Just trust your instincts."
Hermione's instincts were telling her not to get on a broom. Her stomach turned again at the thought of being high up in the air. She focused back on her tea and took a big gulp.
"It'll be fun," Ginny declared. "I need a break too. We've been training non-stop all week."
"Yeah, okay," Hermione said weakly. She knew Ginny wouldn't let her get hurt or anything.
As if hearing her thoughts, Ginny said, "I won't let you fall."
"Am I - um - going to be on my own broom?"
Ginny nodded. "Yeah. You actually have a broom of your own. It's in the closet out there."
Hermione remembered reading something about taking flying lessons with Harry since her accident. She turned to him, her expression filled with dread and panic. Harry let out a small laugh. "Don't look at me like that. This is between you and Ginny."
"And Ruby," Ginny added. "She's coming with us."
Harry got up and cleared their plates. "I should go get ready. You two have fun." He bent over and gave Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek, then whispered in her ear, "Those two can be a handful. Send a Patronus if you need rescuing."
He rose and patted Ginny on the shoulder before turning to the hall. "That Harry Potter. He can't sleep at night if he hasn't saved at least three people that day," Ginny called after him. She'd obviously heard what he'd whispered to Hermione.
He stopped when he reached the hall and said over his shoulder, "I'm down to two, now."
"Progress," Ginny announced while Hermione laughed.
Hermione, Ginny, and Ruby were lying on the grass in a large field near the Burrow, looking up at the clouds. They'd just flown for several hours and Hermione had been surprised to find she liked it. She preferred to stay no more than twenty feet off the ground - which earned her a long round of teasing from the other girls, but she didn't mind. She was surprised when the broom responded to her (brooms had never listened to her before) and after just thirty minutes, she had managed to relax and enjoy the scenery.
"I can't believe Harry's flying lessons worked," Ginny was saying. "When he first brought up the topic we all said it was a waste of time, since you would forget anything you learned, but he insisted that your body remembers and, well, he was right."
Hermione nodded and thought back to what Harry had said earlier about her knowing how to perform Disillusionment Charms now. Was that knowledge stored in her body too?
"The body remembers," Ruby repeated. "I guess he'd know better than anyone."
Ginny lifted her hand and swatted Ruby hard. "Ow!"
"Not okay," Ginny hissed at Ruby.
Hermione sat up quickly. "What? Why would he know better than anyone?"
Ginny waved away her question. "Because he's been your roommate for ages and he knows more about your condition than any of us, you included. Anyway. Let's talk about something else."
Hermione settled back into the grass, eyeing Ginny, but she seemed to be avoiding Hermione's gaze.
"I want to continue our conversation from last week," Ruby announced.
Ginny groaned.
"What?" Ruby asked. "She's in a good mood."
"What is it?" Hermione asked. "What was the conversation?"
"Believe me," Ginny said. "You don't want to know."
"The conversation," Ruby continued, ignoring Ginny, "was about the prospect of you dating someone."
"That's obviously impossible," Hermione said immediately. "No. I don't want to talk about that."
"See?" Ginny said in a very "I told you so" sort of tone.
"Yeah, you always say that," Ruby countered, "but I was considering all your arguments from last time and I think you can make it work."
"I don't want to talk about this," Hermione repeated.
"Fine. Then just listen to me," Ruby said. "Your first concern was that you'd find it too hard to trust someone you didn't know and trust in your previous life. You'd see this stranger and they'd tell you they were in love with you and you were in love with them and you'd immediately be suspicious."
"But she could just use an endorsement for that," Ginny cut in, thoughtfully.
"Exactly," Ruby replied. "A letter from one of her friends. Maybe even with a picture of you all together with the new bloke."
"Fine," Hermione chimed in, unable to stay quiet and listen to them talking about her. "But how could I possibly fall in love with someone new? You can't fall in love in a day."
"That's not really an issue," Ginny said. "You love Teddy and you didn't know him before. Love seems to live in the body."
Hermione frowned and tried to access these supposed feelings for Teddy. Did she love him? She didn't even know what he looked like. Maybe it was sparked when she saw him or when he hugged her. It was strange to think she could love someone whose image she couldn't even bring up in her mind.
"Okay, fine, assuming that's true, how would they fall in love with me? Someone who just repeated everything, had to be reminded of who they were every morning. Someone who could never give them a family and a physical relationship – hah! - that would be a joke."
"I'm not so sure-" Ruby started, but Ginny hit her.
"You hush," she hissed, then turned to Hermione. "There are plenty of wizards out there who don't want children. And I'm still not entirely convinced you can't have them."
"I'm sure I can have them physically," Hermione allowed, "but mentally and emotionally, waking up with no memory and finding myself pregnant? Or worse, with a five-year-old child whose name I don't know? Being a mum to a kid whose life I don't remember? No way."
"But you wouldn't be going at it alone," Ginny argued.
"She's right. You'd have a husband to fill in all the gaps for you," Ruby added.
"I would never do that to anyone I loved. I would never subject them to that sort of life." There was a painful tightness in Hermione's chest now and she paused to take several deep breaths in an effort to alleviate it. Ginny placed a comforting hand on her arm.
"It's a pointless conversation, anyway," Hermione concluded, "because back to my previous point - no one would put up with this. Not for me. There are tons of witches out there with normal, functioning brains they could pick from who are more beautiful, and funny, and personable and, and, all that," she finished lamely.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "That's one thing that hasn't changed a bit since school. You have such a flawed view of yourself. Not only are you brilliant and powerful but you are funny and beautiful and any wizard would be lucky to have you."
"Yeah. You're quite a catch, Hermione," Ruby added with a wink. "And you should listen to us, we like witches."
Ginny threw a hand over her face in exasperation. "This got really weird, really quickly," Hermione muttered.
"Ruby has the tendency to do that to conversations," Ginny explained.
They all laughed and Hermione placed a hand on her heart. The tightness was still there. "Ruby. Don't bring this up again? Okay? I - just - it hurts too much."
"Sure thing, Hermione." Ruby nodded back at her, her expression sad. "We're just looking out for you."
Ruby and Ginny moved on to talking about Ginny's search for a new roommate. Her current one was planning to take a few months off to travel the world for the rest of the year. Hermione zoned out as the girls talked but focused back on their conversation when she heard her name.
"What?"
"Would you consider living with me?" Ginny asked.
"And leave Grimmauld Place?"
Ginny shrugged. "I was thinking maybe you could rotate around. It's not like you need to be in a familiar place, and then all your friends would get a turn with the whole routine."
"Oh - um, I don't know." Hermione was about to say she hadn't thought of it before, but had no idea if that were true. She certainly hadn't thought of it today.
"I mean, I do travel every so often," Ginny was saying, "but we could figure something out on those days. And it's not like you never leave Grimmauld Place. You used to spend a lot of nights at Hogwarts and you go camping with the boys sometimes, so we know you can do it all elsewhere."
Hermione sat up and looked down at Ginny. "Have we ever discussed this?"
"I haven't talked about it with you. I was talking about it with Luna and Neville recently and they thought it might be a good idea, too. Neville said he'd love to have you at Hogwarts with him over the Summer and Luna and Rolf have tons of space in their house. So, maybe you could do Summers with Neville, Autumns with me, Winters with Luna and Rolf, and Springs with Harry. I don't know. It's just a thought."
Hermione settled back down as the implication behind Ginny's proposal became clear. Hermione was a burden. That made perfect sense. And Ginny was trying to look out for Harry here, not Hermione. She wanted to give Harry some room, maybe give him a chance to date, focus on work, travel and just - not deal with Hermione. Would it be so bad to live somewhere else for a while? It would all be the same for her, wouldn't it?
Later that night, Hermione and Harry were on the sofa, watching a movie. It was set in the Regency Era and told the story of one of Hermione's favorite Muggle authors. She'd insisted they watch it when she saw it on the telly but now she was regretting her decision.
The story was about a grand romance based on a foundation of witty banter, longing glances, and lingering touches. But due to some confusing circumstances about the couple's standing in society and lack of fortune, their relationship was doomed from the outset.
Hermione wanted to shout at the screen, "Just be together already! You love him, he loves you, your circumstances be damned." But sometimes circumstances couldn't be ignored, and that thought was downright depressing.
Hermione turned to Harry. "This movie's stupid. You can pick something else."
He looked relieved and picked up the remote and turned off the telly, then turned and leaned back against the arm of the sofa. "Why don't you tell me about your day? I can tell it was good."
"You can? How?" She assumed this was especially hard since she currently had a Disillusionment Charm on her, keeping him from reading the expression on her face. She'd been practicing the charm obsessively since Harry had walked her through it after dinner.
"Easy," he said simply. "You're sitting all the way over there."
"What?"
"Where you sit on the sofa is directly proportional to how sad you are. On bad days, you sidle right next to me and lay your head on my shoulder. On good days, you sit far away."
"What?" Hermione shook her head. "No."
"And on really, really bad days," he continued with a grin, "you sit right on my lap."
She kicked him. "There has never been a time I've sat on your lap."
Harry just shrugged. "Am I right? Did you have a good day?"
"I had a lot of fun. Those two are hilarious together. It's like watching a comedy routine."
Harry nodded knowingly. "I'm actually a little surprised you haven't bombarded me with questions yet. You tend to stock them all up as you learn new things about the time you missed and lay them all on me once you return home."
Hermione recalled her conversation with Ruby and Ginny about dating and nearly brought it up now - figuring Harry would surely be on her side. She almost opened her mouth to ask him about it when something deep in her gut screamed at her to shut up.
It was an odd feeling and it made her think of what Ginny had said about Harry's insistence that Hermione's body remembered while her mind forgot. Is that what this was? Some intuitive part of her mind remembering a previous conversation she'd had with Harry about this topic that didn't go well?
"What?" Harry asked. He was staring at her intently.
"What?"
"Can you drop that charm? It's impossible to talk to you. It looked like you were going to say something, but I can't be sure since I can barely see you."
Hermione picked her wand up from the side table and removed the Disillusionment Charm. Harry smiled. "Much better. Now tell me, what were you going to say?"
"Um," Hermione was reaching for something to talk about besides her doomed dating life and landed on, "I was chatting with Ginny about maybe moving in with her."
Harry went completely still. "What?"
"She said her roommate is leaving for a few months to travel the world and she's going to have a free room. She asked if I wanted to stay there for a few months. We thought it might be good if I sort of...rotated around, that way it doesn't put too much of a burden on any one person."
"No."
"What?"
"No," Harry repeated. "You're not moving."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not your decision, Harry. If I want to move, I can."
Harry narrowed his eyes at her and she could tell by the tightness in his jaw that he was trying to keep his temper in check. "So, that's what you want? To leave here? We made this house up together. You picked everything in here," he motioned around the sitting room. "Not just in here, but in all the rooms. I made a library for you, and a potions lab, and let you live here rent-free, and now you want to leave?"
"It's not that I'm not grateful. This is for your benefit. It's-"
"No!" Harry shouted. "Dammit, Hermione. Look at me and I really need you to listen this time, okay?"
He leaned forward and grabbed her arms. Hermione nodded, alarmed by the vehemence of his tone.
"You. Are. Not. A. Burden," he said slowly. Then he got up from the couch and began pacing the room. "Bloody hell!"
Hermione was stunned into silence. She'd clearly struck a nerve, but had no idea which nerve, why it was a nerve, and what to say to fix it.
"I want you here! Okay?" he yelled, turning to face her.
She nodded again.
"I want you here, sleeping in this house every night and I want to say hi to you every morning. I'm sick of you deciding what's best for me. I have never gone against any of your wishes but you ignore mine daily. But this...no! I won't let you do this."
"Harry, I didn't-" Hermione started to defend herself but cut off, unsure what to say.
Harry stopped in front of her and crouched down so he was at her level. He placed his hands on her arms and said insistently, "If you want me to be happy - if you really want to put my needs above your own, then stay here. Be here, every day." Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "Please."
"Okay."
"Write it down."
"Okay. I will."
"Now." Harry grabbed her wand from the side table and Summoned something. The next moment a blank parchment, quill, and ink bottle landed on the sofa. He picked them up and shoved them at her.
"Write this," he instructed. "'No matter what happens, I'm going to keep living with Harry. I made a promise to him and I don't intend to break it.'"
Hermione began to argue against the absoluteness of the phrase. "Harry, we don't know-"
"Write it," he snapped back.
"Fine," she sighed. She wrote out the phrase on the parchment, then added a date for reference.
"Now post that at your desk. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Do you promise?" he pressed.
"I do. I promise."
He stared at her a little longer, as if to make sure she wasn't lying, then eventually stood back up and resumed his seat on the sofa. He turned the telly back on and the movie they were watching before was back on the screen, but neither of them were paying attention. Harry was still fuming and Hermione was trying to make sense of what had just happened.
What had he meant when he said she ignored his wishes daily? And when he'd said "if you really want to put my happiness ahead of your own," that had seemed significant, but she couldn't pinpoint why. She wanted to ask a hundred follow-up questions but knew better. Now wasn't the time for that because the thing she wanted even more than to know what was going on, was to comfort Harry, but she was at a complete loss for what to say.
So, instead of speaking, she crept over to his side of the couch and laid her head on his shoulder. He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her and she felt him relax against her. Good. That was a good sign. He wasn't pushing her away.
Hermione turned back to the telly and after a few minutes, when Harry's breathing had calmed, she said, "You need to alter your theory."
He looked down at her. "What?"
"The sofa/mood theory. I'd say my proximity to you on the sofa is directly proportional to our combined sadness level, not just mine alone."
Harry nodded and looked back at the screen.
"Unless, uh, unless you'd prefer if I left you alone."
Harry pulled her closer and propped his chin on her head. "I think I made it clear that I want you close to me."
She smiled. "Yes. That came across."
"Good."
Hermione shifted so she was facing the screen and they both watched the movie in silence. After a while Harry asked, "Do these two ever get together?"
"No. He marries someone else and has kids and she never marries. She writes romance novels though and always gives her characters the happy ending she never had."
Harry let out a long sigh. "That is bloody depressing."
"Yeah. That's because it's based on actual events. In real life, not everyone gets to live happily ever after." She was thinking again about her conversation with Ginny and Ruby about her doomed dating life.
Harry wrapped his second arm around her and pulled her close. "That was dark. You really are turning into a Slytherin. But we Gryffindors are hopeful and hold fast to the belief that the good guys always win."
"I don't know, Harry. I might need you to hope for me, because I don't see a future for myself where I don't end up alone, like this lady in the movie."
"No worries. I have enough hope for both of us."
A/N: I had some questions about when we were going to get more "comfort" in this hurt/comfort story. Soon. I promise the next chapter will be happier. Believe me, I feel you. I have a pain in my chest just like the one Hermione gets every time I write this and it sticks with me for most of the day. Why do I do this to myself?! Anyway, thanks for reading!