I wake with the feeling of having a dream that I need to remember, but find it fleeting away before I can fully grasp what I've lost. What was I dreaming about?— and why did I feel the odd sensation that I needed to remember?
My eyes feel heavy as I look around my room. Must be the pain potions. I try again to recall the information I've apparently lost. I search the sterile white hospital room, disappointed to find I'm alone; surely Harry or Ron would be here waiting by my bedside, as protective as they are. Almost as if my thoughts summoned him, the door opens, snapping my attention to Harry standing in the threshold of my room with a steaming cup of what appears to be coffee.
"Oh, you're awake!" he rustles his hair around, making it even wilder than normal. "Good."
He closes the door behind him, and I now notice a plastic bag the size of a briefcase under his arm. His face is full of relief, I assume due to my conscious state, but his posture is rigid— stiff like a marble statue.
"Where's Ron?" I croak, my voice hoarse with lack of use.
"We need to talk, 'Mione. Things are..." He pauses, his eyes darting, landing on nothing in particular. "…different."
"Are you referring to the time I've lost? The Healer came in yesterday after visiting hours and informed me it was—" I feel an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach, as if I was walking down a staircase and missed a step. I take a shaking breath, and continue. "…2009. Apparently the injury to my head has left me with a gaping hole in my memory?"
Harry looks around the room, still avoiding my eyes. The relief is gone from his expression—obviously whatever has changed is hard to explain.
"I— I gathered your things they bagged at intake, I hope these will kind of help. I'm honestly afraid I'll give you a heart attack if I explain everything to you."
He hands me the bag of my things I entered the hospital in. The first item I pull is a neatly folded three-piece skirt suit ensemble. It's made with a sturdy, luxurious material in a shade of green that I know complements my complexion and tones.
"Expensive…" I murmur.
I wonder how much had changed exactly to be able to afford and justify such an outfit. Digging deeper into the bag, I find a pin, just larger than a galleon, flashing words that make me gasp.
Granger for M.O.M. 2009
I mouth the flashing words, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. My brow furrows— could this really be? Me? A muggle-born witch running for the highest position in the Magical Government? This brings me a huge sense of pride. I am the Brightest Witch of My Age, after all.
"...I'm running for Minister of Magic?"
"And topping the polls, all things considered." Harry offers.
I set the flashing campaign pin aside and dig deeper inside the bag. My mouth goes dry when I finger a ring. The center diamond is huge with a row of smaller diamonds surrounding it, paired on a simple white gold band. I look to Harry, then to my left ring finger, and then back to the ring. There's an obvious indentation on said finger that tells me I've worn it for some time. With a shaking hand, I slide the ring onto my finger— my heart stops for a split second as the ring fits perfectly.
Hermione, relax— I tell myself, attempting to calm myself. It's all going to be alright. This is just a puzzle— you like puzzles. Take emotions out of it and just solve the puzzle.
Harry watches me as I take a few deep, calming breaths. I wish he'd say something, offer me some sort of clue. I try to tell myself that maybe Ron had finally popped the question, but in my heart of hearts, I know better. I knew Ron Weasley could not afford such a ring, and even if he now could, his taste was not this exquisite.
There's something else in the bag— a necklace, it seems. I look at Harry for reassurance, and his eyes beckon me to continue. This piece of jewelry seems to be expensive; white gold, thin chain, and a lovely little pendant that resembles—
My heart stops once again, my breath catches in my throat— this is a dream. I must be dreaming. Surely, it has to be— this is no way on earth this could be real. There is no scenario I can come up with to understand why I would have been wearing such a necklace.
"Harry, this isn't mine." I say, fighting to keep control of my voice.
"It is," Harry insists softly "you were wearing it when you arrived."
Why would I be wearing this necklace? There is no possibility within my brain of why I would choose to wear a necklace bearing a constellation pendant— the Draco constellation, to be specific.
A thought forms in my head, and my eyes dart back and forth between the white gold pendant in my right hand, and the ring upon my left. Surely, if this was not a dream, then this was a joke. This pendant could be a George Weasley creation, waiting for the right moment to burst into flames and scream 'GOTCHA!'
Something deep inside me knows this necklace is not a prank. My eyes once again darted between the ring and the pendant, finally accepting the possible connection between the two. Surely Ron could not afford such a ring, but someone I knew that shared the same name as this constellation, could.
"Harry," I ask slowly, my voice now an octave higher than normal, "Am I married to Draco Malfoy?"
"Not yet."
His words hang in the air as my mind races. I desperately try to pinpoint my last memory, something that could make sense of all this. If I was betrothed to Draco Malfoy, as Harry had just confirmed, it should be near impossible for me to forget him, shouldn't it? The more I dig through my brain, the more frustrated I become. I remember Ron and I together. I don't even remember being friendly with Malfoy, much less be his fiancée.
I could see how potentially my relationship with Ron might've fizzled out by this point, yes; we wanted different things in life. Ron was my best friend, our day to day life was perfectly fine, but he wanted a large family. Such as he grew up with. I wanted to expand my career, a sense a stability, before children. Ron and I had been through so much together but, even if we did agree to be just friends, Draco Malfoy? I wrack my brain once again, hitting nothing but a brick wall. Blank. Nothing.
"Do I— Do I… love him?" I ask hesitantly.
"Mione, like you couldn't imagine. Believe it or not, but he does too. Don't get me wrong, it's not to say this happened overnight, but he's changed."
I toss the idea around in my head, and see no logical possibility of this. Draco was a Death Eater, no one stops being a Death Eater… right?
"I don't know about this Harry…"
Harry sits on my bedside and takes my hand. "I know this a lot to take in right now, but you don't know. You don't remember. Who else but you could make the ferret and me become friends?"
"You two are-" I pause. "Friends? Really, Harry?" My voice trembles slightly.
My brain is flooded with the memories of all he had done to us in school. Could he have really changed so much that I'd fall in love with him? It seems impossible to me. I'm at a loss as to how this could've happened. I just wish I could remember…
"I think— I think I need some rest," I lean back against my pillow; I certainly was tired all of a sudden. "This has been overwhelming, to say the least." I added, chuckling half-heartedly.
Harry smiles and leans over to kiss my forehead. "Love you, Mione— get some rest. Ginny said she'll be by tomorrow since she just got in from the game. I know you hate quidditch, but the Harpies won!"
"That's great! I'm very happy for her," I force a smile. "I love you too."
I watch Harry leave my hospital room, and then close my eyes when I am alone. Questions, thoughts and scenarios swarmed my now pounding head, but I was overwhelmed with tiredness. Sleep takes me before I even had a chance to make more sense of what I had just learned.
I couldn't wait until tomorrow so here we are! My usual shout out to my alpha, cls2256. She's the creme de la creme of alphas! Updates on/by Saturdays! See you next week! Review and follow.