Previously: "Memory problems, you say? What kind of memory problems?"
Hermione hesitated. She didn't want to get Viktor in trouble. He didn't intend for her to get stuck without half her memories of the year, after all. He had been trying to help her.
She must've hesitated too long, for Pomfrey spoke again, "I want to assure you that I have taken a Healer's Oath to keep anything to myself so long as it doesn't threaten you or others. Whatever has happened, I am duty-bound to keep it secret."
At that, she couldn't help but spill the entire story to a sympathetic Madam Pomfrey. She knew she was blubbering, but it had all become too much to handle. The matron ended up taking her into her office, pouring her a strong cup of tea, and listening very sympathetically to her tale.
Hermione told Madam Pomfrey almost everything about her experiences in the last twenty-four hours. It was an awkward thing, to admit that she had been breaking many school rules to an authority figure, but Pomfrey didn't bat an eyelash.
"Now tell me, Miss Granger, what happened in the clearing again?"
Hermione sighed. It was the third time Pomfrey had asked her for her account, and she knew it was probably to see if she was gaining back her memories with each retelling. But she was certain she was not. "I remember leaving the castle with my… friend, who wanted to teach me something. We sat in a clearing together and… my friend taught me how to talk mentally. He called it Communicative Legilimency, and he reckoned I was probably a natural, since I could pick it up so quickly, but we had barely learned how to keep a conversation going when he told me to stop, saying that I might've buried some of my memories."
"And do you remember why you consented to this?" Madam Pomfrey asked calmly.
Hermione paused. A fly buzzed around her head, and she swiped it away absently. From what she remembered, she had apparently agreed to go with Viktor before because he had discovered a secret of hers, and she went both to learn a new skill and to keep him from telling on her. If only she could remember what her own secret was! It hadn't been the time turner, she didn't think. But then again, could anything she thought be trusted anymore? "Erm… not entirely." Hermione said. "Oh, but he did tell me there were two methods to fix it. One of them required a master legilimens, and the other was a bit dodgy sounding."
"I have heard of two mind-healing methods that may match your friend's plans." She said tightly. "The second method is much less precise; it may end with the total erasure of those memories instead of their restoration. Unfortunately, I am not a mind healer, much less a master legilimens. I will not be able to fix this ailment like I could a physical one." Hermione's heart fell, hope whittling away into nothingness in her stomach. She was so certain that going to Madam Pomfrey would solve everything, like she had two years ago with Hermione's Polyjuice mistake. "Ah, hope is not lost, however. We just so happen to have a master legilimens on staff."
"Professor Snape?" She asked immediately, then slapped a hand over her mouth for interrupting.
"Why, yes, acutally, but not the one I was thinking of. How did you know that?" Pomfrey replied.
Hermione reddened slightly. "My friend told me."
"The same friend who lured you out into the forbidden forest and erased your memories?" She challenged. "Don't dwell on it, Miss Granger, at least not until you can remember why you agreed to this in the first place. I must ask the name of the friend you speak of Now I will have to consult with the headmaster before anything else can be done. Do you think you can perform in your classes?"
Hermione thought back to her courses, and besides a disturbing lack of concentration she paid to her courses in recent memory, she couldn't think of anything missing. It was like there were holes in her mind; the moment she tried to remember, all she could feel was an emptiness lurking in the back of her mind. It was as if she reached for a book, just to find that all the important bits were missing. She had the footnotes, the introduction, and a few pages in the middle, but the actual words were just… gone. But her classes hadn't been like that, not even the ones she went back to repeat (although she couldn't remember actually going back in time, for whatever reason).
"I'll be okay, Madam Pomfrey," she said finally. And she knew she would: this wasn't even in the top five of crazy, life-altering things she'd experienced in the last few years. What was a little memory loss in comparison to being hospitalized as a half-cat for weeks, or being flat-out petrified for half a term?
She nodded. "You're a strong girl, Miss Granger. I trust you remember our conversation from the beginning of the year?"
"I'm afraid I don't, Madam Pomfrey." She clenched her eyes shut, trying to remember meeting the matron earlier in the year. Another blank.
"Not to worry, dear. I will send for you when we have an answer. Unless anything is physically ailing you?"
Hermione thought about the large scar that crossed her stomach. She looked up into Pomfrey's eyes and did something she'd never done before: lied directly to an authority figure. "No, nothing."
The next few days, which included New Years and the first day back to classes, passed with no word from Pomfrey. She was able to spend most of her time reading Mastering the Mind, which was a very very thick tome. There wasn't a single reference to "communicative legilimency," and if Madam Pomfrey hadn't shown some familiarity with it, she would be tempted to believe that Viktor made it up.
She didn't know quite how to feel about Viktor. On one hand, she had been very certain he hadn't meant to hurt her. But the few memories she still did have included one where he cornered her in the rosebushes during the Yule Ball. The same emptiness returned to her, blocking her train of thought in it's tracks whenever she tried to remember what they had talked about.
This happened about many memories, where she would remember what she'd been talking about or thinking about, before the whole scene simply went blank. But she wasn't Hermione Granger for nothing. She'd already pieced together that Other-Hermione was grossly overusing the Time Turner. In fact, she did remember the conversation with Madam Pomfrey earlier that year. She remembered feeling very anxious that Pomfrey wanted to use a diagnosis charm, and used the charm on herself to check how much Other-Hermione aged herself.
That was when Hermione started really questioning Other-Hermione, when she realized that she had aged whopping two years. She was an adult, legally. And anyone who'd cast a diagnosis charm on her would . And now, those two extra years were gone, erased. She felt like a spy who had been living a double-life. But spies didn't forget their own other lives, like she had forgotten Other-Hermione's memories.
But even her thoughts of memory-loss were overshadowed by what happened on Tuesday morning. Rita Skeeter, the woman who had written about Harry for the Triwizard Tournament, was back.
The prophet landed in front of her, and Hermione gave it a silver sickle and a bit of her bacon. She picked up the paper, idly looking at whatever tripe they'd come up with. And then she promptly dropped the paper.
"HARRY POTTER'S SECRET HEARTACHE" blazed across the top of the page. Bloody hell, she took back everything she said about Rita Skeeter being harmless. That woman was a menace.
Hermione was pacing along the aisles of the library, totally absorbed in her anger. She couldn't believe that Skeeter woman – implying that she was firstly dating Harry, then two-timing him with Viktor. What was more, she was implying that both she and Viktor were dark wizards plotting against the Boy-Who-Lived. What utter rubbish! It was infuriating, and she was determined to make her pay.
To add insult to injury, one of her least favorite people in the world was approaching.
"What the bloody hell is going on?" A voice said out of the blue. No provocation, no warning, and Draco Bloody Malfoy was waltzing up to her, newspaper in hand.
"Malfoy, I'm too busy for your childish games. Go away." She said coldly. She really didn't want to see one of the biggest prats in the school, especially one that would make fun of her for the stupid, stupid article.
Malfoy cocked his head oddly. Well, odd for Malfoy, because it didn't seem normal for him to be looking at her with anything but a sneer on his face. He was… smiling. More of a smirk, maybe, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Ah, I'm sorry for disturbing the Great Hermione Jane Granger, researcher extraordinaire, while she's reading. Although I've got to say, it looks more like you're fit to be tied more than busy. What are you researching?"
Hermione stared at him blankly. Malfoy was being decidedly un-Malfoy-like. Was this another element of her amnesia? Or just another tactic to get a rise out of her? Maybe Malfoy had teamed up with Snape, and the moment she cast a bloody jelly legs or bat bogey at him she'd be in detention till she died.
"C'mon, spill. It's gotta be something interesting if it's got you in this much of a tizzy." He surprised her again. His voice had lost some of it's posh-ness. Or something. It was definitely odd, and Hermione wasn't in the mood for odd.
"If you must know, I'm researching magical forms of bugging. And I'm not in a tizzy." She spat. "You know, I never see you in here." She gestured to the library, and grew a smirk of her own. "I bet you've never heard of half the spells I could use to make you shut up. But this one will do: silencio!"
Malfoy was ready, though, and dodged her spell. It bounced harmlessly off of a book, fizzling out. "Ok, Mione, this ruse has gone too far. What are you on about?"
Hermione snarled in anger, only barely managing to stay quiet in the still library. "What are you on about? I am done with your Slytherin games, Malfoy! And don't call me that again." She hated being called Mione. Only Ron was able to call her that without a withering glare, and maybe a smack upside the head if it was Harry.
Malfoy, thankfully, didn't seem to have a response to that. Instead, he looked her in the eye for far too long. She suddenly remembered punching him in the face last year – and what a proud moment it was for her, and the time he had been turned into a ferret. That really took the cake. What had Ron called him? Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret?
She broke off Malfoy's stare, and huffed angrily. "Stay away from me, Ferret."
Hermione ran off quick as she could after that, happy to forget the bizarre happenstance. Malfoy, calling her 'Mione' and asking her about her research – what game was he playing? It honestly seemed too intelligent for him. Whatever skill his father had at manipulation and cunning had clearly skipped a generation.
Angry at the entire turn of events, Hermione returned to the common room. Hopefully she could talk to Harry and have a good laugh at the article together. What a load of tosh.
The next days passed much quicker than Hermione was used to. Maybe it was the lack of an extra three hours for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but the holiday flew by. She stayed cooped up in Gryffindor tower, avoiding the distrustful and sometimes jealous stares from the majority of the school. Going to the ball with the most famous boy in school – barring Harry, maybe – was bound to make a few people jealous. If only they knew what Viktor was really like.
Hermione had a lot of time to contemplate it, and she decided to break things off with Viktor. His heart was in the right place, but he was so much older than her, so much more advanced in magic, that it was dangerous. It had already resulted in a few lost memories. She wished it didn't have to be so, but Hermione's brain was her greatest asset. She wasn't risking the loss of even more memories to a boy.
And all too soon, classes were resuming. People sniggered at her behind her back, during lunches and in the halls when she couldn't avoid them. She was taking the stoicism tactic, which had an unfortunate side effect of grating at the nerves after a while. It was hard to ignore the stares, but she had Harry at her side. Friends made everything better.
Of course, Harry was getting his own stares and whispers, but even Harry couldn't protect her from the strangest response: Draco Bleeding Malfoy had been staring at her all week. He had a little frown on his face as he did, almost a pout. She studiously avoided his gaze, although it almost itched at her skin with it's intensity. And he was very successful at avoiding him, all the way up until Potions.
Hermione loved potions, despite the nastiness of the professor. And like always, Professor Snape didn't fail to dish out.
AN: Thanks for reading! How do you think Draco and Severus will deal with fourth-year Hermione? Sidenote, she's incredibly difficult to write. It's so much easier writing a jaded and driven Hermione.