Hermione stood over the Black Family's Pensieve, the vial that Harry had given her clutched tightly in her right hand. She was shaking, and she felt as though her heart was beating so quickly, it could burst out from her chest at any moment.
Harry had said that things would be uncomfortable. Uncomfortable wasn't bad, right? Uncomfortable didn't mean that anything life changing would amount from this memory. Harry was always worried, sometimes more than necessary, she reasoned to herself. Whatever it was couldn't be as terrible as he was making it out to be... right?
She realized she was stalling, whether intentionally or not. She inhaled sharply, perhaps to muster up some Gryfindor bravery, before pouring the memory into the shallow basin and feeling it pull her in.
Hermione found herself in a place she recognized, and soon she spotted her younger self and a younger Harry. They were tucked away sitting in a private booth in a muggle coffee shop that Hermione used to frequent. She hadn't been there in years, and strangely, she couldn't remember exactly when that last time was.
As she approached the pair, she took a moment to appreciate how different she and Harry looked. She'd guess from Harry's long hair and stubbled face, along with her own shoulder length hair, that the two were in their early twenties. They both looked youthful upon first glance, but there was a hardening in their demeanor that still remained from the war.
If she weren't feeling so anxious she'd laugh at the circumstances. Young Harry and Hermione were awkwardly sipping coffee in silence, similar to how she and Harry had been sitting at Grimmauld Place just moments ago.
Hermione's attention was drawn to her younger self as she saw her set her coffee cup down, and look up at Harry with determination.
"Harry," she began firmly. "I've asked you to meet today because I want to talk about..." she paused and her face flushed as she lowered her voice. "The Forest of Dean."
Harry starred at her blankly, shaking his head slowly.
"Hermione..."
"Harry, please," she said, her eyes wide. "Please just hear me out."
Harry sighed softly in resignation.
"Harry, I'm wracked with guilt," she started, her eyes beginning to well with tears. She dropped her gaze to the booth table that separated them. "I can't live with this lie. Each day that goes by just makes it a bigger betrayal. I want to tell Ron."
"Hermione - "
"No, listen," she said firmly, getting her courage back. "I can't marry him without him knowing the truth. He deserves to know."
"And what about me?" Harry snapped abruptly. "What about Ginny? You don't think I felt some guilt knowing what I was keeping from her before our wedding? Have you even considered what telling Ron would do to us?"
"Of course it will be hard - "
"Hard?" Harry scoffed angrily, his voice raising slightly. "I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell them both a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts, but it was your idea not to. You said all it would do is hurt them."
"Well, I was young and stupid."
"Hermione, that was only a few years ago!"
"So what then?" She said quietly. "That's it? We never tell them?"
Harry sighed. "Hermione, it's been working well for the last few years. Why fix something that's not broken, that's what you told me. You were right in saying we did nothing wrong. You weren't with Ron and I wasn't with Ginny."
"If it wasn't wrong then why do I feel so disgusting?"
Harry offered a sympathetic smile. "Are you sure this is even about that night from the Forest of Dean? Do you think it could possible be something else?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's wedding gitters, Hermione. I had the same thing happen leading up to mine. Trust me, after the wedding, you'll be glad we didn't tell them."
"You think so?" She asked hopefully.
"Hermione," Harry said softly. "Ron would never speak to me again. Your relationship with Ginny would never be the same. All for what? One night that happened because we thought we were going to die? We can't do that to them."
"I suppose," Hermione conceded.
"Promise me you won't say anything," Harry said. "At least without talking to me first."
"I promise."
As young Harry placed his hand over young Hermione's and continued to reassure her, present day Hermione found herself being sucked away from the scene.
Hermione thudded onto the floor in Sirus's Room next to the glowing Pensieve. She closed her eyes tightly and laid down on the old hardwood floor for a moment. She hoped to god that what she was thinking happened in the Forest of Dean, didn't actually happen.
She made her down the stairs, back to the main floor living room, where she found Harry sitting in a chair, drink in hand, next to a crackling fire.
Their eyes met as Hermione stood next to bookshelf, uncomfortably crossing her arms tightly against her chest.
"We didn't," she said quietly, and then a bit louder, "tell me we didn't."
"We did."
Hermione began to pace, her hands shaking at her side.
"You..." she began slowly. "And me... had..."
She stood still for a moment, looking to Harry for confirmation.
"Sex." He said calmly.
She cringed, bringing the palm of her hands to rest on her face. "When?"
"A few days after the attack at Godric's Hollow," he answered. "On New Year's Eve."
Hermione grabbed the open bottle of fire whiskey from the drink cart, taking a long swig before starting to pace again. She thought back to that Christmas, the worst Christmas of her life, in 1997. She has spent the day tending to Harry, furious with herself for breaking his wand. However, that was all she could remember. Her memories of the next few days, including New Year's Eve, were cloudy. Absent.
"Just... just that night?" She asked blushingly.
Harry nodded.
"So... " she began, trying to keep her thoughts organized. "I wanted to tell Ron and you asked me not to. What happened next?"
Harry swirled the remainder of his fire whiskey around in his crystal glass as he spoke. "You came to me at the Auror's Department, no less than a week later, saying you couldn't marry Ron feeling the way you currently felt, but that you had an idea that would solve everything. The Selective Obliviate."
Hermione gave him a pointed look to continue.
"We spent a few days talking about whether or not it was a good idea. You and I couldn't think of any reason why you shouldn't do it. You would be absolved from guilt, free from a one night lapse in judgement that was causing you so much pain. It would be as if it never happened."
"Except for the fact that it did," Hermione said under her breath, silently cursing her younger, naive self.
"We decided that I would perform the spell," Harry continued, "and erase the latter half of our time at the Forest of Dean, as well as the moments we had discussed that night, from your memory. We used the reversible version of the spell, should you ever needed the memories back, but our plan was that I would keep the secret alone, and I promised you I would take it to my grave. The spell worked immediately, and without side effects. You married Ron a few months later."
"You remember everything then?"
"Yes," Harry nodded.
Hermione suddenly felt extremely exposed at the thought, and she felt a warmth rise into her face. Harry remembered everything. He'd been with her. Seen her in a way she thought only Ron had. All these years, Harry had known her in a way that she had never known him, but had at one time experienced.
"Oh my god," Hermione realized in horror. "I lost my virginity to you."
Harry said nothing, his silence once again confirming.
Hermione took another swig of fire whiskey before slowly sitting down on the couch across from Harry. Her mind was reeling with thoughts.
"Hermione," Harry started, his voice steady. "The reason I'm telling you all this is because I'm worried it's about to come out. Somehow, these people black mailing us know. They might even have some proof. I want you to prepare yourself for the worst."
Hermione gave a sorrowful laugh.
"I'll be sacked. The Prophet will have a field day. Can you imagine the headlines?"
"You are not getting sacked," Harry stated firmly interrupting her.
"Ron will be devastated, Ginny will never speak to me again, and oh my god," Hermione rambled as she closed her eyes and tears began to stream down her face. "The kids. What will they think, Harry?"
"I'm going to figure this out," Harry said, his eyes blazing with determination. "I will do everything I can to make sure no one ever finds out, but we may need to come up with a plan just in case. For now though, we wait. I'll update you when I know more, okay?"
"Okay," Hermione whispered allowing herself to relax a bit into the sofa, still reeling from everything she'd learned. She took another sip from the near empty bottle of fire whiskey. It burned as it went down, but she didn't mind. She needed to numb her mind.
It was going to be okay she told herself, allowing her eyes to close as she settled further into the sofa. After all, she and Harry had been in much tougher situations before, and it had always worked out. They'd come up with a plan. It would be okay.