I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved
to JK Rowling
Thanks for all the encouragement I have received. Let me know if you enjoy this chapter!
Amanda: I understand what you wrote about it being boring when I go through things that happened in the past books but I needed to do so to lead up to this chapter. The second thing she wants to ask pertains to things she noticed from the previous chapter. I will try not to do so much backtracking in the future.
Kai: The reason Dumbledore did not contact her parents right away is answered in this chapter.
Ednyadove: I know you will like this one.
Emily: As of right now her memories have been coming back to her while she is asleep. That is when she is most relaxed and she is not constantly 'trying' to remember. You may be right about 'everything' coming back to her in a rush later on. I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out (wink).
CrazyPoet: I have taken your suggestion to heart and you will be happy to know that the downfall of Voldemort will be told later in this story.
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!
Chapter 7: Tell Me
The infirmary was silent. Two people were situated at the far end, one in the hospital bed and the other next to her sitting in a chair. No curtains were drawn around the two, as they were the only occupants of the vast wing. Both looked like their minds were miles away. The woman was biting her bottom lip thoughtfully and the man was gazing at the wall from empty picture to empty picture. The room was growing darker by the minute as the day dragged on. More torches suddenly sprang to life with the increasing dimness causing the young witch to jump slightly, her eyes training on one of the fires across from her in the ward.
Moving her glance back to the elderly wizard she finally broke the silence. "Well," Hermione hesitated. "There are actually two questions that are on my mind." She felt weird taking up so much of the man's time. It was almost certain that being such an influential man, wizard, he had more important things he could be doing. Nevertheless, there were just so many things she wished to know.
"Only two?" he said while smirking. He knew that there was more than one thing she wished to have answered; he was just surprised that she only wanted to ask two things. He could sense the multitude of questions floating around in that overworked brain of hers.
She beamed and stopped her fidgeting figuring this must be important to him as well if he was willing to give up so much of his valuable time to help her recall her history. "I was wondering if you could tell me how I met Ron and Harry and how we became such good friends." Her voice was soft and shaky as she worried that he might not be able to give her an answer to this inquiry.
"You met the boys when you were eleven on the train ride to Hogwarts. You were helping Neville Longbottom look for his toad, which he was always losing I might add, and entered into the compartment Ron and Harry occupied." He was a wise wizard and he had either been told these stories by his 'favorite' students or had seen it in his own way as he had with many things in his lifetime. "Being the outgoing girl you are, when you noticed Ron trying to do a spell you sat down to watch. Since his older twin brothers, Fred and George, gave it to him the spell did not turn out to be a real one. Those two have always been practical jokers." He smiled to himself at the thought of the Weasley twins; they could always make him laugh no matter what the occasion. "You were not impressed and made that quite clear to the young Weasley boy saying, 'Are you sure that's a real spell? Well it's not very good, is it?' You then decided to show off your own abilities to the boys by repairing Harry's broken glasses." He began snickering loudly. Through his delight he uttered, "When you were ^giggle^ leaving the compartment ^giggle^ you pointed out that Ron ^giggle^ had dirt on his nose." For an old man he certainly knew how to roar with laughter. Even Hermione snickered at her own assertiveness pushing her next question, the most important one, out of her mind for the time being.
After calming himself, Dumbledore continued with the story, using hand movements to emphasize the importance of some of the details. "Needless to say you were not Ron's favorite person. On Halloween that year in charms class you were paired with Ron to learn how to levitate feathers. Ron kept swinging his wand forcefully around like a windmill and chanting, "Wingardium Leviosa."" Dumbledore mimicked the actions he described with his own arms. "He was having no luck at all. You proceeded to stop his crazy movements and correct his pronunciation of the spell. "Its Wing-GAR- dium Levi-O-sa!" you said while you did the correct swish and flick movement with your wand." He demonstrated the correct motions to Hermione. "The feather floated slowly off the table. This did not go over too well with Mr. Weasley." He paused to take a breather.
His eyes were gleaming exceptionally and the expression on his face was of pure delight as he resumed telling the story to the young witch in the hospital bed. "When class had ended the boys were walking through the corridor and talking about the lesson. Ron was saying, "It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly!" as you were maneuvering past them. Harry noticed you were in tears. Later on that day the boys noted that you had missed one of your classes, which was totally out of character, and had not shown up for the Halloween feast. They learned from two of the Gryffindor girls, Parvati and Lavender, that you were crying in the girls bathroom and wanted to be left alone."
Hermione interrupted the headmaster, "What is Gryffindor?" Forgetting all her troubles she was completely focused on everything Dumbledore expressed, whether it was in verbal communication or his body language. She made sure to memorize the correct swish and flick movement for when she would get her wand back.
"Oh, it is one of the four houses that a student is placed into the first day they arrive." He began ticking them off on his fingers, "They are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. All three of you are Gryffindors." Having answered her interjection he went back to telling the tale.
"Here is where it gets interesting, at least in my opinion. One of the professors came barging in the Great Hall shouting about a mountain troll that was roaming the dungeons. Chaos ensued and the heads of the different houses led their members back to their dormitories. Ron and Harry did not go with the other students; they remembered you were in the bathroom, unaware of the troll. While the boys were making their way down one of the corridors they saw the troll, meaning it had left the dungeon. They watched it enter a room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind it. They then proceeded to hurry off in the direction of Gryffindor tower. It was not until they heard a scream did they realize they had locked the twelve-foot mountain troll in the girls' lavatory, with you inside. They retraced their steps and came to your rescue. You were huddled underneath a sink in the far corner of the room. They tried to distract the beast and eventually Harry ended up with his arms around its neck."
Hermione was on the edge of her seat, literally. She was sitting up straight, legs curled beneath her, hands incessantly fiddling with each other in her lap as she listened to the mind-blowing events of her own life. "He accidentally shoved his wand up the troll's nose." Both of them shivered and made faces at the mental image. "The troll was eventually going to bludgeon Harry with his club when Ron pulled out his wand and racked his brain for a spell. The only one he thought of he used. "Wingardium Leviosa" he said as he flicked his wrist," He demonstrated the movements once again, this time Hermione copying. Dumbledore sniggered at the attentiveness of the young witch and her unrelenting desire to learn, no matter what the circumstances. "It worked. The club hovered in the air and as the troll looked at it in confusion the weapon came down on its head and knocked him cold. When the teachers arrived you covered for the boys and took the blame. After that the three of you were the best of friends."
"Amazing!" was the first thing that came to her mind. "I can not believe I led such a fascinating life. It certainly puts the one I'm leading now to shame." She scrunched up her forehead in concentration. 'If only I could remember,' she thought.
Dumbledore reverted the conversation back to her inquiries. "You had another question for me I believe." His voice was calm and reassuring.
"This one is, well, personal," she faltered. "I was just wondering if you could tell me why I seem to focus more on Ron than Harry if both of them were, er, are my best friends?" She could not help but think that maybe, just maybe, she already knew the answer. "I mean, I would sketch the knight piece more often than anything else."
"Is there no reason you can come up with to explain it yourself?" he turned her question around. Hermione was positive that this was nothing new for him. He seemed the type of person to take a step back and let her decipher things on her own, prompting only when necessary.
She was reflective for quite sometime, doubtful if she should ask the question that she needed to know the answer to in order to be sure she was on the right track. She bit her lip yet again and took another deep breath. "Well, does Ron happen to have red hair?" she posed. If he answered 'yes' than it would be easier to ask her next question. She would assume Ron to be the redhead from the dreams she loved so much, the only one that has ever been able to push her nightmares away. That Ron was the person who made her want to giggle constantly and in whose arms made her feel safe and secure. If Dumbledore said the one word she desperately wanted to hear, than Hermione would know whom the boy, or wizard, was that made all the relationships she ever tried hopeless. She would know for sure that he was the man of her dreams, the one she was meant to be with; the one she was never supposed to have been taken from in the first place.
"Why, Hermione! You remember something!" She released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. Dumbledore's grin was plain and his eyes were even more brilliant than they had been before. His fingers were busy playing with the tip of his long white beard and his foot tapped continuously on the hard floor in the beat of some lighthearted melody she did not recognize.
His response had been crucial. She smiled at him, pleased for being able to put two and two together. The tapping of his foot broke her thoughts repeatedly causing her to spend a great deal of time trying to find the right way to say her conjecture. Every time she thought she finally had the correct words the incessant patter made her lose them again. After a long delay she finally resumed, "Was I, er, am I in, this is really hard to say." With a sharp intake of air she continued, "Am I in love with Ron?" The question came out rapidly and in an unusually high pitched tone of voice.
"Right you are!" He grinned. "And Ron is very much in love with you." He seemed to be glowing. He took her hand between his and squeezed it in a caring fashion before returning his fingers to their exploration of the hairs of his beard.
"I wish I could remember. This is so difficult," she suddenly stopped and a look of horror played across her face as she returned her gaze to the joyous features of the headmaster. Her eyes seemed pained and her mouth was tight and thin. Fistfuls of sheets were grasped firmly, almost brutally, in both her hands. She appeared to be holding onto the cloth for dear life. All the color drained from her cheeks, her face turning a ghostly white, before she at last spoke, "If this is hard on me I can only imagine how it has been for Ron." Her voice was low and raspy giving the impression that it was hard for her to get the words out.
Sadness showed in Dumbledore's eyes. "It has been difficult for him to bear." The smile that just a few seconds before was displayed across the lively man's lips was abruptly inverted into a frown. It did not in any way suit this animated wizard. His fingers were no longer interested in tangling themselves in the white beard but instead were folded securely in his lap. "He has always hoped for your safe return and as such, he has never had any kind of closure." The flicker in Dumbledore's eyes returned, "But when he finds out you are alive and well he will be the happiest wizard on Earth."
This did not cheer Hermione up in the slightest. "I am not the same girl he fell in love with," she retorted in a hoarse murmur. "I have been living as Hollie for eight months and for four months prior to that I was in a coma." The volume, enunciation and irregularity in her voice were increasing with every word she spoke. Finally, she screamed, "I just don't remember!" She was in a state of sheer panic. The tears could not be held back any longer and as they swept silently and swiftly down both cheeks they began to soak the simple nightshirt she wore. Her small hands tried in vain to cover every inch of her stricken face from view. The immensity and emptiness of the room caused her cries and sobs to echo off the walls, so instead of hearing one person's anguish it was increased tenfold. The heaving of her chest was painful for the old wizard to endure.
"It will come back to you," Dumbledore soothed. "Just give it time. You only need one thing to happen that will trigger your memories. Have a little faith." He leaned over and rubbed her back gently. When her tears had ceased and her breathing returned to normal he spoke again. "I think that is enough talking for this evening," he said with finality. They had in fact done so for nearly three hours. It was now five o'clock and being winter, the sun was nearly completely set. Wiping the last remnants of her weakness off her cheeks she was regaining her composure when Dumbledore's next statement took her completely off guard, "You should get a few more hours sleep before Ron and Harry arrive."
Her moist eyes widened and her jaw clenched stiffly making it difficult for her to speak. "You mean they are coming here! Tonight!" She could feel beads of sweat forming on her brow and her heartbeat was racing wildly in her chest. Her hands moved to her bushy locks in a futile attempt to flatten her hair. Hermione took deep, calming breaths as she twisted her Hogwarts class ring around her finger.
"Professor Snape is going to bring them to Hogwarts to see you," he smiled. "Along with your parents, Sirius and the rest of the Weasley family. We wanted to wait to assess how much you recalled before you were flooded with elated, but curious, family members."
"B-b-but," she stuttered. "I l-l-look horrible. What time are they ar-r- riving? I would like to freshen up a bit first." Her hands roamed over her blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes to her frizzed out hair. Hermione's eyes trained themselves on the nightshirt she wore. There was no way she would allow them to see her for the first time in a year looking in such a state.
Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "They will be arriving around nine. Sleep for three hours and I will make sure Madame Pomfrey wakes you. This way you will have an hour to get ready. Madame Pomfrey will take you to the Gryffindor tower common room where you will be meeting them. Maybe being there will help you recall your past." He turned and walked to the door of the ward. "Have sweet dreams!" he declared before he closed the door tightly behind him and vanished.
She lay down in her bed, heart pounding wildly, confident that sleep would evade her with the news that in a few short hours she would be seeing the people her prior identity had called family. Hermione watched Madame Pomfrey reemerge from her office carrying a goblet over to her side. "This is a sleeping draft. With all the talking you and Dumbledore have been doing I'm sure you have a lot running around in that brain of yours." The medi-witch smiled expectantly at the young woman. "I thought this might be of some use."
"Thank you!" Hermione responded before downing the potion. She eased herself under the covers feeling the drowsiness approach. Yawning wide she thought about the two boys that had meant the world to her in her previous life and whether they would ever mean that much to her again. Closing her heavy lids she effortlessly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
Thanks for all the encouragement I have received. Let me know if you enjoy this chapter!
Amanda: I understand what you wrote about it being boring when I go through things that happened in the past books but I needed to do so to lead up to this chapter. The second thing she wants to ask pertains to things she noticed from the previous chapter. I will try not to do so much backtracking in the future.
Kai: The reason Dumbledore did not contact her parents right away is answered in this chapter.
Ednyadove: I know you will like this one.
Emily: As of right now her memories have been coming back to her while she is asleep. That is when she is most relaxed and she is not constantly 'trying' to remember. You may be right about 'everything' coming back to her in a rush later on. I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out (wink).
CrazyPoet: I have taken your suggestion to heart and you will be happy to know that the downfall of Voldemort will be told later in this story.
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!
Chapter 7: Tell Me
The infirmary was silent. Two people were situated at the far end, one in the hospital bed and the other next to her sitting in a chair. No curtains were drawn around the two, as they were the only occupants of the vast wing. Both looked like their minds were miles away. The woman was biting her bottom lip thoughtfully and the man was gazing at the wall from empty picture to empty picture. The room was growing darker by the minute as the day dragged on. More torches suddenly sprang to life with the increasing dimness causing the young witch to jump slightly, her eyes training on one of the fires across from her in the ward.
Moving her glance back to the elderly wizard she finally broke the silence. "Well," Hermione hesitated. "There are actually two questions that are on my mind." She felt weird taking up so much of the man's time. It was almost certain that being such an influential man, wizard, he had more important things he could be doing. Nevertheless, there were just so many things she wished to know.
"Only two?" he said while smirking. He knew that there was more than one thing she wished to have answered; he was just surprised that she only wanted to ask two things. He could sense the multitude of questions floating around in that overworked brain of hers.
She beamed and stopped her fidgeting figuring this must be important to him as well if he was willing to give up so much of his valuable time to help her recall her history. "I was wondering if you could tell me how I met Ron and Harry and how we became such good friends." Her voice was soft and shaky as she worried that he might not be able to give her an answer to this inquiry.
"You met the boys when you were eleven on the train ride to Hogwarts. You were helping Neville Longbottom look for his toad, which he was always losing I might add, and entered into the compartment Ron and Harry occupied." He was a wise wizard and he had either been told these stories by his 'favorite' students or had seen it in his own way as he had with many things in his lifetime. "Being the outgoing girl you are, when you noticed Ron trying to do a spell you sat down to watch. Since his older twin brothers, Fred and George, gave it to him the spell did not turn out to be a real one. Those two have always been practical jokers." He smiled to himself at the thought of the Weasley twins; they could always make him laugh no matter what the occasion. "You were not impressed and made that quite clear to the young Weasley boy saying, 'Are you sure that's a real spell? Well it's not very good, is it?' You then decided to show off your own abilities to the boys by repairing Harry's broken glasses." He began snickering loudly. Through his delight he uttered, "When you were ^giggle^ leaving the compartment ^giggle^ you pointed out that Ron ^giggle^ had dirt on his nose." For an old man he certainly knew how to roar with laughter. Even Hermione snickered at her own assertiveness pushing her next question, the most important one, out of her mind for the time being.
After calming himself, Dumbledore continued with the story, using hand movements to emphasize the importance of some of the details. "Needless to say you were not Ron's favorite person. On Halloween that year in charms class you were paired with Ron to learn how to levitate feathers. Ron kept swinging his wand forcefully around like a windmill and chanting, "Wingardium Leviosa."" Dumbledore mimicked the actions he described with his own arms. "He was having no luck at all. You proceeded to stop his crazy movements and correct his pronunciation of the spell. "Its Wing-GAR- dium Levi-O-sa!" you said while you did the correct swish and flick movement with your wand." He demonstrated the correct motions to Hermione. "The feather floated slowly off the table. This did not go over too well with Mr. Weasley." He paused to take a breather.
His eyes were gleaming exceptionally and the expression on his face was of pure delight as he resumed telling the story to the young witch in the hospital bed. "When class had ended the boys were walking through the corridor and talking about the lesson. Ron was saying, "It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly!" as you were maneuvering past them. Harry noticed you were in tears. Later on that day the boys noted that you had missed one of your classes, which was totally out of character, and had not shown up for the Halloween feast. They learned from two of the Gryffindor girls, Parvati and Lavender, that you were crying in the girls bathroom and wanted to be left alone."
Hermione interrupted the headmaster, "What is Gryffindor?" Forgetting all her troubles she was completely focused on everything Dumbledore expressed, whether it was in verbal communication or his body language. She made sure to memorize the correct swish and flick movement for when she would get her wand back.
"Oh, it is one of the four houses that a student is placed into the first day they arrive." He began ticking them off on his fingers, "They are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. All three of you are Gryffindors." Having answered her interjection he went back to telling the tale.
"Here is where it gets interesting, at least in my opinion. One of the professors came barging in the Great Hall shouting about a mountain troll that was roaming the dungeons. Chaos ensued and the heads of the different houses led their members back to their dormitories. Ron and Harry did not go with the other students; they remembered you were in the bathroom, unaware of the troll. While the boys were making their way down one of the corridors they saw the troll, meaning it had left the dungeon. They watched it enter a room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind it. They then proceeded to hurry off in the direction of Gryffindor tower. It was not until they heard a scream did they realize they had locked the twelve-foot mountain troll in the girls' lavatory, with you inside. They retraced their steps and came to your rescue. You were huddled underneath a sink in the far corner of the room. They tried to distract the beast and eventually Harry ended up with his arms around its neck."
Hermione was on the edge of her seat, literally. She was sitting up straight, legs curled beneath her, hands incessantly fiddling with each other in her lap as she listened to the mind-blowing events of her own life. "He accidentally shoved his wand up the troll's nose." Both of them shivered and made faces at the mental image. "The troll was eventually going to bludgeon Harry with his club when Ron pulled out his wand and racked his brain for a spell. The only one he thought of he used. "Wingardium Leviosa" he said as he flicked his wrist," He demonstrated the movements once again, this time Hermione copying. Dumbledore sniggered at the attentiveness of the young witch and her unrelenting desire to learn, no matter what the circumstances. "It worked. The club hovered in the air and as the troll looked at it in confusion the weapon came down on its head and knocked him cold. When the teachers arrived you covered for the boys and took the blame. After that the three of you were the best of friends."
"Amazing!" was the first thing that came to her mind. "I can not believe I led such a fascinating life. It certainly puts the one I'm leading now to shame." She scrunched up her forehead in concentration. 'If only I could remember,' she thought.
Dumbledore reverted the conversation back to her inquiries. "You had another question for me I believe." His voice was calm and reassuring.
"This one is, well, personal," she faltered. "I was just wondering if you could tell me why I seem to focus more on Ron than Harry if both of them were, er, are my best friends?" She could not help but think that maybe, just maybe, she already knew the answer. "I mean, I would sketch the knight piece more often than anything else."
"Is there no reason you can come up with to explain it yourself?" he turned her question around. Hermione was positive that this was nothing new for him. He seemed the type of person to take a step back and let her decipher things on her own, prompting only when necessary.
She was reflective for quite sometime, doubtful if she should ask the question that she needed to know the answer to in order to be sure she was on the right track. She bit her lip yet again and took another deep breath. "Well, does Ron happen to have red hair?" she posed. If he answered 'yes' than it would be easier to ask her next question. She would assume Ron to be the redhead from the dreams she loved so much, the only one that has ever been able to push her nightmares away. That Ron was the person who made her want to giggle constantly and in whose arms made her feel safe and secure. If Dumbledore said the one word she desperately wanted to hear, than Hermione would know whom the boy, or wizard, was that made all the relationships she ever tried hopeless. She would know for sure that he was the man of her dreams, the one she was meant to be with; the one she was never supposed to have been taken from in the first place.
"Why, Hermione! You remember something!" She released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. Dumbledore's grin was plain and his eyes were even more brilliant than they had been before. His fingers were busy playing with the tip of his long white beard and his foot tapped continuously on the hard floor in the beat of some lighthearted melody she did not recognize.
His response had been crucial. She smiled at him, pleased for being able to put two and two together. The tapping of his foot broke her thoughts repeatedly causing her to spend a great deal of time trying to find the right way to say her conjecture. Every time she thought she finally had the correct words the incessant patter made her lose them again. After a long delay she finally resumed, "Was I, er, am I in, this is really hard to say." With a sharp intake of air she continued, "Am I in love with Ron?" The question came out rapidly and in an unusually high pitched tone of voice.
"Right you are!" He grinned. "And Ron is very much in love with you." He seemed to be glowing. He took her hand between his and squeezed it in a caring fashion before returning his fingers to their exploration of the hairs of his beard.
"I wish I could remember. This is so difficult," she suddenly stopped and a look of horror played across her face as she returned her gaze to the joyous features of the headmaster. Her eyes seemed pained and her mouth was tight and thin. Fistfuls of sheets were grasped firmly, almost brutally, in both her hands. She appeared to be holding onto the cloth for dear life. All the color drained from her cheeks, her face turning a ghostly white, before she at last spoke, "If this is hard on me I can only imagine how it has been for Ron." Her voice was low and raspy giving the impression that it was hard for her to get the words out.
Sadness showed in Dumbledore's eyes. "It has been difficult for him to bear." The smile that just a few seconds before was displayed across the lively man's lips was abruptly inverted into a frown. It did not in any way suit this animated wizard. His fingers were no longer interested in tangling themselves in the white beard but instead were folded securely in his lap. "He has always hoped for your safe return and as such, he has never had any kind of closure." The flicker in Dumbledore's eyes returned, "But when he finds out you are alive and well he will be the happiest wizard on Earth."
This did not cheer Hermione up in the slightest. "I am not the same girl he fell in love with," she retorted in a hoarse murmur. "I have been living as Hollie for eight months and for four months prior to that I was in a coma." The volume, enunciation and irregularity in her voice were increasing with every word she spoke. Finally, she screamed, "I just don't remember!" She was in a state of sheer panic. The tears could not be held back any longer and as they swept silently and swiftly down both cheeks they began to soak the simple nightshirt she wore. Her small hands tried in vain to cover every inch of her stricken face from view. The immensity and emptiness of the room caused her cries and sobs to echo off the walls, so instead of hearing one person's anguish it was increased tenfold. The heaving of her chest was painful for the old wizard to endure.
"It will come back to you," Dumbledore soothed. "Just give it time. You only need one thing to happen that will trigger your memories. Have a little faith." He leaned over and rubbed her back gently. When her tears had ceased and her breathing returned to normal he spoke again. "I think that is enough talking for this evening," he said with finality. They had in fact done so for nearly three hours. It was now five o'clock and being winter, the sun was nearly completely set. Wiping the last remnants of her weakness off her cheeks she was regaining her composure when Dumbledore's next statement took her completely off guard, "You should get a few more hours sleep before Ron and Harry arrive."
Her moist eyes widened and her jaw clenched stiffly making it difficult for her to speak. "You mean they are coming here! Tonight!" She could feel beads of sweat forming on her brow and her heartbeat was racing wildly in her chest. Her hands moved to her bushy locks in a futile attempt to flatten her hair. Hermione took deep, calming breaths as she twisted her Hogwarts class ring around her finger.
"Professor Snape is going to bring them to Hogwarts to see you," he smiled. "Along with your parents, Sirius and the rest of the Weasley family. We wanted to wait to assess how much you recalled before you were flooded with elated, but curious, family members."
"B-b-but," she stuttered. "I l-l-look horrible. What time are they ar-r- riving? I would like to freshen up a bit first." Her hands roamed over her blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes to her frizzed out hair. Hermione's eyes trained themselves on the nightshirt she wore. There was no way she would allow them to see her for the first time in a year looking in such a state.
Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "They will be arriving around nine. Sleep for three hours and I will make sure Madame Pomfrey wakes you. This way you will have an hour to get ready. Madame Pomfrey will take you to the Gryffindor tower common room where you will be meeting them. Maybe being there will help you recall your past." He turned and walked to the door of the ward. "Have sweet dreams!" he declared before he closed the door tightly behind him and vanished.
She lay down in her bed, heart pounding wildly, confident that sleep would evade her with the news that in a few short hours she would be seeing the people her prior identity had called family. Hermione watched Madame Pomfrey reemerge from her office carrying a goblet over to her side. "This is a sleeping draft. With all the talking you and Dumbledore have been doing I'm sure you have a lot running around in that brain of yours." The medi-witch smiled expectantly at the young woman. "I thought this might be of some use."
"Thank you!" Hermione responded before downing the potion. She eased herself under the covers feeling the drowsiness approach. Yawning wide she thought about the two boys that had meant the world to her in her previous life and whether they would ever mean that much to her again. Closing her heavy lids she effortlessly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.