Chapter 3: Forgotten

Hermione left work at four. She put on her sunglasses and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She stood outside, leaning up against a pole, waiting.

She didn't own a car. First of all they were too expensive (insurance, maintenance, gas…). Secondly, in Salem there was really no need for it. Most of the places of interest were within walking distance; she had a bike. She could ride the bus if she so desired. Or wait for her roommate to pick her up.

She lived with Christine, her old witch pen pal from her days at Hogwarts. Christine was muggle-born as well, and for some reason, the muggle-borns in America seemed to hold on to their muggle roots more so than European witches and wizards.

"I lived a muggle life for 11 years, and return to that lifestyle every summer and then all of sudden they expect me to just give it up just because I have magical powers? Noperoo. Not me. I'm not giving up classic rock and roll or Super Mario Brothers or Adam Sandler movies just because I can transfigure porcupines into pineapples. I'll just take the best of both worlds and live the life I want!" Hermione smiled to herself as she remembered one of the many speeches Christine gave her about maintaining her muggle heritage. What she said made sense; she had just never paid much attention to it until after the War. While the battle against Voldemort was a worldwide event, most of the actual fighting, torturing and devastation occurred in Europe – mainly Britain considering that's where the Boy Who Lived and Almost Died More Than Once lived. So other witches and wizards around the world, in Asia, America, Africa, though affected by the turmoil inflicted on their kind by Evil were not as damaged emotionally or physically by the War as the ones who were fighting.

So after her magical studies at the Salem Institute of Wizardry, Christine forged some official high school documents, applied to Salem State College so that she could, if she wanted, get a muggle job one day. When Hermione had discovered this, she thought her friend was nutters. Until she thought about it. Wizards cant fight evil their entire lives, especially once its been destroyed. And after going through what Hermione and her peers suffered, some of them needed a change. Hermione was one of those individuals. Not long after the War was over, Hermione packed her bags and, as it seemed to some, fled to Salem where she also applied to Salem State College. Living with Christine and attending a muggle college was an eye-opening and life-altering experience for Hermione. Though she loved every minute of her new life, she still missed the days that she was part of the Dream Team…

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.
"Yes...of course...but there's no wood!" Hermione cried wringing her hands.
"HAVE YOU GONE MAD!" Ron bellowed, "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT!"

She snapped out of reverie when she heard the distinct beep-beep of Christine's ancient baby blue Volkswagen bug. "Hey, Hermione! Come on! Let's go!" Christine and Hermione rode in comfortable silence, listening to the local alternative rock station until they reached the campus. Christine pulled up to the curb, and as Hermione got out, Christine leaned over and said, "If you think about him so much, why don't you just call him?" and gave her a knowing look when she drove off.

Hermione huffed and walked to class. What right did Christine have to say that? She doesn't know that I was thinking about him! How could she know that I was thinking about him?

Wait…I was thinking about him?

Hermione stopped abruptly astonished that Christine could know her better than she knew herself. How could she be thinking about him? He was part of the past she had tried so hard to forget. But obviously she couldn't forget about him completely, she wouldn't. He meant too much to her; they all did. She just needed some distance…

"Hey, Hermione? What's up?" a very good-looking young man with blonde hair had stopped next to Hermione.

She snapped back to reality. "Oh, hello Kevin. How are you?"

"I'm doing just great. But you look a little out of it. On your way to class?"

"Yeah…I was just…I thought I'd forgotten something, but as it turns out I haven't." she smiled to show him there was nothing to worry about.

"Well in that case, would you mind if I walked you to class?" he smiled that dazzling, movie star smile and held out his arm.

She smiled back at him and linked arms with him, allowing him to lead her to class.

Ron slowly turned to the first page of the red notebook that Ginny had thrown into his lap. Could it be? Slowly, almost hesitantly he looked down at the tiny, perfect cursive handwriting. Yep. It was hers. But from how long ago? And what exactly was it? Was this that little book she carried around almost everywhere she went in 7th year? He glanced at the date and almost cringed. It was.

But how? Why did Ginny have it?

But then he remembered. That summer, following 7th year, following the bloody deaths of her parents, Hermione had moved in permanently with the Weasleys. She felt safe nowhere else, and Ginny's room became home for her. He remembered seeing her sitting on the floor in the corner of his sister's room more than once scribbling furiously into that notebook. He'd always been so curious to see what was written in it, but had never asked. He didn't want Hermione to think that he was nosy.

But here it was. In his hands. Ginny had just turned it over to him. Was there something in it that he should read? Something he shouldn't read? He'd been dying to know, and now was his chance…but he felt guilty.

However, his guilt did not outweigh his curiosity, and he started to read the first page:

Well, it's the beginning of another school year. I feel silly writing in a diary like a little girl, but I need to do something. I need some place where I can say what I feel and not hide it; its not like I have a pensieve. Though I think we all could use one.

This last year has been horrific. So many things have happened. So many terrible, terrible things. And no one is taking any action against them. The people who are willing to take action don't have the needed support because people are too scared or just stupid. (Ron laughed at that thinking of Hermione's hatred of Fudge). The people that are willing to help are either in exile or MIA or not powerful enough to do what needs to be done….

I'm so scared. I really am. I try to put on a strong face, focus on school, keep a calm exterior and maintain a sense of humor but…but its so hard.

It's hard. And I'm scared.

But I am glad to be back at Hogwarts. At least I feel a little safer here…

Ron flipped ahead a few pages:

I hate it. I hate it all. I can't stand watching my best friend fall apart. I know Ron has to see more of it than I do, and I know Harry must be suffering so much more than he lets on….if only he would talk to us. Its like he's taken a vow of silence about all things related to You Know Who Voldemort. Its like he's trying to protect us. But honestly – who's going to protect him?

Ron stopped reading for a moment. This was amazing. Getting to see what she was thinking at that time. It was practically the same things he had been feeling. Why hadn't they talked more? Why had everyone just stopped talking?

Flipping ahead a few more pages, a few words caught Ron's eye:

I love him.

Ron froze. For a minute, he figured it must be Krum, but then remembered that by that time Krum was dead. Then it must be Harry, but then he remembered what she once said about Harry ("Ron that's just gross. Harry is like my brother.) So he kept reading:

I love him. I love him so much that sometimes it hurts. I want to tell him. But I cant. It just wouldn't be right. Not right now. There are too many other things going on, too many people to worry about. I don't want to complicate matters.

But I see him sitting over there, running his hands through his hair, dark circles growing under his eyes and I just want to run over to him, hug him and cry, let him know that I'm feeling the same things he is. That I'm scared too. That I'm worried and terrified and nervous and stressed and utterly clueless as to what to do next. But I wont. I cant. I should. But I wont.

Ron was totally absorbed in her words. He couldn't believe his eyes. His heart had started beating faster. Somehow he'd known. He'd always known. And then he remembered that night in the park.

"Oh Ron, this is so wrong. Not now."

"I know, Mione. We cant. I know."

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Thinking about her hurt. He hadn't seen her in forever. He wrote to her every week practically, and she'd respond fairly regularly. Hermione was always good at keeping in touch via mail. She did after all have plenty of practice with that pen friend while she was at Hogwarts…what was her name? Christine? Yes, and I do believe she's living with her now.

How he wondered what she looked like since last time he'd seen her. It was at Christmas time the previous year. Her hair was the same, that much he remembered. Her hair had never changed, and he had never stopped loving it. But aside from that, he couldn't remember anything else about her. It was if she were fading from his memory. Not a good thing.

He opened his eyes and the book again, and resumed reading. He remained up there the rest of the afternoon, entranced by Hermione's forgotten words…