Chapter Two – Returning to the World
Hermione had wanted to stay up the rest of the day and talk with Ron and Harry about what had happened to her – she still didn't really know. All she did know was that her most recent memory was of being turned on by a Death Eater. When she tried to question Ron, however, he just shook his head and smiled at her.
"I know you don't want to," he said, "but you need to get back to bed." He held up his hands as she began to protest. "Hey, hey… I know you've been in bed for a long time, but the mediwizards will need to come tonight, so you need to have some rest before they show up. You're a medical and magical mystery, 'Mione. They're going to want to see you, and talk to you."
This reminded her of something she had been wanting to ask – well, something more she wanted to ask, but this was most likely something he would tell her now.
"Ron, maybe it doesn't happen to wizards, but my legs-" Ron smiled.
"You're wondering why you can use them at all, even if just a little bit?" She nodded.
"Your treatments. A mediwizard has come to visit you every day after the first three months of the coma, and has treated your muscles so they wouldn't atrophy. Now-" he said before she could begin a new line of questioning. "Drink this, and sleep for a bit. I promise with all my heart that tomorrow, you can ask us whatever you want, and we'll tell you everything."
Hermione looked at him and nodded. It wouldn't do her any good to argue, she knew – Ron seemed resolute. He smiled and brought the cup to her lips. She drank deeply, and for the first time in over seven years, she dreamt.
--------------------
When she awoke the next morning, Ron was lying next to her on the bed. He was fully clothed, and his mouth hung slightly open, one hand clasping hers. Her heart skipped a beat – he was so close. If she just bent her head, ever so slightly, she could push her lips against his… She blushed furiously at the thought.
She smiled, bemused at herself. You still think like a seventeen year old, don't you? But no… you're twenty-four. You could have had children by now. At this thought, a stab of pain ran through her heart. She could have had Ron's children by now, little redheaded children… they could have matched his parents by now, even.
And that was it, wasn't it? She needed to live again. Even though, to her, it felt like no time had passed, she knew that things had changed. No one had told her yet, but she intended on getting answers.
She lifted her hand and softly pushed Ron, proud that her strength was returning. She might be able to walk on her own today, just a day after awakening. When Ron didn't stir, she pushed his shoulder harder. He growled a bit in his sleep and Hermione giggled. Just as she was preparing an attempt to shove him off of the bed, Ron's eyes popped open, and he threw himself against her and began to tickle her stomach.
Hermione's eyes widened. He had been awake. The great prat!
"You… STOP! Stop tickle hehehe… stop!" Ron sat upright and grinned slyly.
"Reflexes of an auror, Hermione. That's the first thing they teach you – be alert all the time... I woke up when you did." He winked cheekily at her and hopped off of the bed.
Hermione tried to look stern. "That wasn't funny, Ron." She grinned devilishly to herself. "I'm still so… so tired…" with this she let her arms drop to her sides, sighing heavily. Ron's smile vanished, and he grabbed her hand.
"Hermione? Hermione, oh, I'm sorry… I forgot, it was just like having you back, oh geez, I'll call the mediwizards back…"
Hermione lifted her right hand and smacked him smartly on the head. "Teach you to tickle me in the mornings."
Anger flashed across Ron's face momentarily, the he shrugged sheepishly. "Right, then. I can't be mad with you – not anymore. Come on, then… Ginny's always up early, and I smell bacon." He winked at her and pulled back the covers, then opened a small closet by the bed. He rustled around in the closet for a moment, and then triumphantly pulled out a pale yellow summer robe. It was light, perfect for a summer day. He held it up, and she pulled a face at it, but nodded.
"You like it!" Ron smiled triumphantly and helped Hermione pull her nightgown over her head. He looked away as she pulled the robes on, and then helped her up.
--------------------
Breakfast was amazing, even though she never got to eat it. When Ron had turned the corner into the enormous downstairs kitchen (he had insisted on carrying her, whether she wanted to walk or not), she had been surprised at it's size. When he pushed out the swinging door into what she could only assume would be the dining room, she had nearly fainted. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the dining room, this was true – but was waited in the ajoined living room was perhaps the best gift she'd ever been given.
There were nearly thirty smiling faces staring at her. When the door opened, they had begun to clap, and Hermione saw that many in the crowd were crying. She was astounded. Many of the heads in the crowd were red – and there were even little children running around. A little girl who Hermione couldn't identify was standing on a chair, and at her appearance, had begun to yell at the top of her lungs "Auntie Hermione's up! Auntie Hermione's UP!"
Hermione turned her face towards Ron, who was smiling gleefully at her, then turned back to stare into the crowd.
Mrs. Weasley was plumper then when Hermione had last seen her. She was sitting at the front of the crowd, a child on each knee. Arthur was standing next to her, his hair almost completely gray, also holding two children – twin girls who could be no older then two. George (or was it Fred?) was whooping and setting off Filibuster Fireworks, and Fred (George?) was trying to clap with a baby in his arms. The woman next to him rolled her eyes and pulled the child away, and Fred/George ran to his counterpart and began to set off more explosive decorations, some Hermione had never seen before.
Flanking Molly and Arthur were Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Dumbledore was holding a brown haired baby in his arms, and he jumped delightedly when it sneezed an astounding amount of phlegm onto his dark green robes and tugged his beard with it's tiny hands. He tried to show Professor McGonagall, but she had her attention focused on Hermione, tears streaming down her face. Dumbledore looked up and smiled kindly, giving her a small wink. Tiny Professor Flitwick had jumped up to share a chair with the small redheaded child who had yelled that Hermione was awake, and most amazing of all, Severus Snape was standing behind Professor McGonagall, one heavily scarred hand on her shoulder. Smiling.
Professor Snape was smiling. At her.
Hermione burst into tears.
--------------------
"Hi, Auntie Hermione! Will you play gobstones with me? Uncle Ron says you're the best. You're my favorite auntie, I watch you all the time. Uncle Ron said you had to sleep a lot. I like to watch you sleep, but I'm glad you're awake. Do you think we can play soon? Uncle Ron says you're fun. I get to go to school next month! Mommy says I can't go to big school yet, and Uncle Albus says so too, but I wanna! Uncle Ron said it was fun, he said you and Uncle Harry and he had lotsa fun! He said… hey Auntie Hermione, why are you crying? Are you sad?"
All of this was said in one breath, broken, as is characteristic of a four year old. However, she was extremely well spoken, and Hermione had an easy time understanding her.
"Oh, no, sweetie, I'm not sad. What… what's your name, huh?"
The girls face clouded. "I told you when you were asleep, Auntie Hermione!" she scolded. Her face cleared a moment later, however, and she wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck, placing her head on her shoulder. "That's ok," Hermione heard the child mumble, "Uncle Ron said you might not remember, cause you were sleeping. I'm kinda tired too. I woke up early today." With this, the little girl fell asleep. Hermione glanced, bewildered, at Ron. He grinned at picked up the little girl.
"Her name's Xandie, Hermione. Yeah, she's always like this. Percy's first little girl – the others are…" he gestured to the room. "Well, everywhere. She'll be five next month, and she loves you. She comes to the house all the time just to watch you – once I caught her flooing without permission to come see you – thank God the kid has good pronunciation. Four years old and breaking rules, there's a Weasley for you." Ron smiled proudly.
Hermione shook her head, and turned her head to listen to Molly, who had been trying to address her for a few minutes.
"Anyway, dear, after lunch – I've got it all prepared at The Burrow, just need to conjure it here – we'll all leave, most likely. Most of the boys, they've got to go back to work – Bill's on vacation, but he lives so far away, and his girlfriend is waiting for him. Fred and George only closed the shop for half a day; they'll have to be getting back. We wanted to be back the whole day, but Ron said no…" She frowned. "Regular little dictator, he is."
Hermione laughed and hugged Molly. Even though, to her mind, it had been only weeks since she had last seen the older woman, she knew that it had been so much longer, and she would shortly have to deal with the lost time.
That, she knew, would be the hardest part.
--------------------
Xandie was sitting in Ron's lap, talking to him. The small girl had flat out refused to leave the house, and had thrown a fit to equal no other when her father tried to pick her up and walk into the fire. Percy had begun to scold her, but Hermione slowly pulled herself to her feet and held out her arms.
"Let her stay here, Percy. We'll take good care of her, I promise, alright?"
Percy had seemed reluctant, but with a confirming nod from Ron, he turned back to the fire and yelled "The home of Percivil, Penelope, Xandie, Marie, June, and Heddie Weasley".
Ron grinned at Hermione as Xandie gleefully ran at her. "They still haven't thought of a name for their home. Sad, really."
"Yeah, Uncle Ron named here AGES ago!"
"Named this house, Xandie, not named here." Hermione corrected her. The little girl nodded. "Uncle Ron named this house ages ago" she repeated carefully, and beamed at Hermione.
Hermione looked up from the girl to Ron. "What IS this house called anyway?"
Xandie answered for him. "Crookshanks Manor, Auntie Hermione!"
--------------------
So now, at eight in the evening, after many rounds of gobstones and one attempted game of chess, Hermione was sitting with a child in her lap and a ginger cat by her side. Both were asleep, and to be totally honest, Hermione was getting a bit stiff.
Harry appeared with a "pop" in front of the couch. He smiled and motioned to Herimione, asking to pick up the child. She nodded, and a moment later, Harry had the small girl in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled.
"Hey, Uncle Harry. Gonna tell me a story?"
Harry and rubbed his nose against hers. "Of course, Xan. But it's bedtime, so it'll have to be short."
She nodded. "S'fine… can you tell me about when you and Uncle Ron and Auntie 'Mione got past the three headed dog?"
"Sure, love." Harry bounced her in his arms and began to softly sing. "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts…" he made a silly "deedle dee dee" noise, "All of them standing in a row…"
Hermione smiled and watched him bound up the stairs, twirling the girl in his arms while she giggled. She had never seen Harry be so… so silly and open. Well, he is a grown man now. He's just playing with his niece… well, almost his niece.
She sighed and closed her eyes. It had been a long day – pleasant, but with so much going on. She had received so many hugs from people who, in her mind, she had seen but days ago. To them, it had been years, and many of the people had been crying. Familiar, but aged faces flew through her mind. Lavender, Seamus, Neville, Pavarati… Professor McGonagall's hair was completely white. How could someone age so fast? Even seven years wasn't that long… was it? Hermione grew angry with herself. She still hadn't had time to question anyone about what had happened to her, damn it. She needed to know.
Hermione heard a sharp intake of breath across the room and her eyes flew open.
Ron was standing, one hand propping the kitchen door open. He had changed his clothes after bringing her down to the living room that morning, and was now wearing light blue cotton robes. There was a dishcloth draped over one shoulder, and he stared at her, a pleasantly stunned look on his face.
He let the door swing shut, walked into the living room, and smiled down at her.
"For a minute, Hermione, I thought that everything was the way it was before. Then I came in, and here you were… just sitting here in those robes I picked out, looking tuckered out but none the worse for wear. I think it's the best thing I've ever seen." He pulled one hand across his eyes impatiently and dropped to his knees. He grabbed her hand and put it to his warm face, not bothering anymore to wipe away the slowly dripping tears.
"It's been so hard, Hermione. So, so hard… My life ended. The only thing that kept me alive was the hope you'd wake up. It was the only thing that made me do any of this." He moved their hands to one side and set his head on her knees.
A sob escaped Hermione, and she placed her free hand on top of his bright head, smoothing it down. They sat like this for a quarter of an hour, both crying and consoling.
Their was more then one flight of stairs in the house – one that led to the kitchen, two that led to downstairs rooms, and one that lead from upstairs to the living room. It was from this stairway they heard a muffled sniff. They looked up, and Harry was smiling down at them. He bowed his head, smiling, and wiped his eyes on his the sleeve of his robe. He walked down the stairs and sat next to them on the couch, dropping his head on Hermione's shoulder and placing his hand on top of theirs.
Ron looked up and nodded at Harry, who smiled. They both looked to Hermione, then Ron spoke.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. We've put it off long enough. There's a lot to catch up on."
To be continued...
