A.N.: Hey everybody, I hope you liked the first chapter. I am currently about 7 chapters into the story and slowly a paring seems to force itself upon me. I am pretty sure now this will be a triad fic again, so if you don't like that sort of stuff, better leave the story now. I won't be insulted or anything. ;-)

Chapter 2: Old friends

6th of September 1999

Hermione stared at the ceiling for the rest of the morning as her thoughts kept spinning in her head. But no matter how long she analysed her situation, it simply didn't make any sense. Was she in some sort of parallel universe? Or was she really mentally ill like Malfoy suggested? She didn't fell ill, but that didn't necessarily mean anything, did it?

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts and when she sat up in bed she saw, that it was Malfoy again, this time with another guest in tow.

"George?" she asked after seeing the tell-tale grin and red hair. Malfoy nodded and stepped aside. George looked very much the same as he had before the beginning of the war. He was all smiles and charm and when she looked closer Hermione could see that this George still had both of his ears.

Their eyes met and Hermione prepared herself for another person without recognition of her, but instead, his eyes lit up in surprise and the redhead simply gaped at her. "Aunty Hermione? Is that you?" he asked and stepped closer to her bed. There he simply sat himself down at the edge of her mattress and stared at her with wide eyes.

"Aunty?" she squeaked and looked back with equal shock. He nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes!" he said and finally his face broke into a smile. "I remember you. You still look the same as you did back then. It's like you didn't age for a single day. How is this possible?"

She looked at him, before turning helplessly towards Malfoy, who scribbled hectically on his parchment. And then she sighed. "I… I don't know," she finally admitted and looked back at him with a sad expression. "I can't remember, George."

He nodded and before Hermione fully registered what he was about to do, he pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tightly. "Don't worry Aunty, we'll find out what happened to you."

Hermione stiffened. "I don't know George," she said and sniffed. "It's even worse, you know. It's not just that I have lost some of my memory I also seem to remember things differently from everybody else." She pulled herself gently out of his arms, before wiping a lonely tear from the corner of her eye. "You see, in my memory I most definitely wasn't your aunt. We… we were friends George, we went to school together."

But George Weasley didn't seem concerned in the least. He just grinned, before pulling her back into his arms. "Whatever Aunty. We'll sort it out, don't worry. Let me just call Fred and my uncles. Merlin, they'll be thrilled to see you. We all thought you were dead, you know?"

But Hermione's head had started spinning again. Fred was alive? It couldn't be, but it would explain this sorrowless version of George, she was suddenly confronted with. After having seen her friend at his lowest it was, like a ray of sunshine had entered her exasperated heart. And who were these uncles he was talking about? Did he mean Fabian and Gideon Prewett? But that was impossible…

George held her for a long time and to Hermione it felt totally strange. She had hugged him before, mostly to console him right after Fred's death. Usually, he had been passive in her arms and rarely he had hugged her back. Only sometimes he had clung to her like she was some sort of lifeline. This time she felt more like a teddy bear or really like an aunty that was hugged by a younger and very affectionate nephew. It was strange but after having experienced the total neutrality of her former closest friends, this unfiltered affection was more than welcome.

George stayed with her for almost an hour and when he left, he did so with the promise to come back later with his brother and uncles in tow. Hermione accepted with a smile, even though she felt more and more lost in this whole situation. It was one thing to meet people that didn't know you any longer or had different memories of you, but it was a whole other level of crazy to meet people, who should have been dead. But it seemed that Hermione would have to just roll with it if she didn't want to end as a permanent resident in the Janus Thickey Ward. And this she most definitely wanted to avoid.

George kept his promise and soon after lunch, which Hermione forced herself to eat, he stormed back into the room. Right behind him entered Fred with his mother in tow and after her another pair of much older twins, that were definitely also somehow related to them. Those two had long, curly hair, that was still red in colour and framed their faces just nicely but wasn't the untamable mess she owned herself. The most striking about those two were their piercing blue eyes though, that stared at her with wonder.

"I told you, it's aunty Hermione," George laughed, before sitting down on the edge of her mattress. Fred followed him immediately and placed himself next to his brother, before staring at her in wonder. She stared right back.

"Fred? Is it really you?" she asked hoarsely and felt like her eyes were about to burst with tears. He nodded with a grin, before hugging her fiercely around the middle.

"Who else would it be but your favourite nephew?" he asked cheekily before giving her a wet, slobbery kiss on the cheek. At that she wrinkled her nose and wiped the spot with her sleeve.

"Don't do that, Fred," she scolded him. "It makes me feel a million years old."

It must have been some kind of magical phrase because suddenly the whole room burst into giggles. "That's definitely Hermione," one of the older male redheads said, before stepping behind Fred.

"Merlin Hermione, it's good to see you again. How did you end up in 1999? We all thought you died on us."

Hermione stared at the man with wide eyes, before looking at George with pleading eyes. "George? Didn't you tell them?" she asked and couldn't help the uncertainty that crept into her voice.

"Tell us what?" Molly asked from behind and finally stepped closer, too. Hermione sighed heavily.

"I… I can't remember," she finally said and looked at her with lost eyes. "I am not only lacking the memory of the last four months, but some of my memories also don't match with the ones other people have."

With that, she looked back at the two older male redheads with sad eyes. "I'm sorry because the two of you two seem to know me somehow. But I need to be honest with you. I have no idea who you are."

Molly gasped behind her and Hermione could tell that her words had hurt the man that was standing behind Fred because his eyes became unbelievably sad. Still, he put on a brave face and a charming smile before replying: "Well, then I should probably introduce myself to you again. I'm Gideon Prewett and this next to Molly is my twin brother Fabian."

Hermione nodded and cast him a nice smile. "Nice to meet you, Gideon. May I ask you how the two of us have met?" But before the man could even answer her question she gasped, as pain suddenly exploded behind her eyes. And in the next moment, the world around her disappeared in a whirlwind of pictures.

2nd of May 1999

Hermione had never been one for big festivities, but now that she stood in the spotlight, it was even worse. The press was stalking her and following her around like a swarm of annoying flies. All people, that deemed themselves important, wanted to be seen with her, talk to her and wanted their picture taken with her on it. And it was driving Hermione mad.

Coming back to Hogwarts to finish her education had been a good idea. Not only did she enjoy being back at Hogwarts and spending every free minute in the library, but she had also taken personal lessons from professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. Both of them tried to convince her to come back as an apprentice next year and Hermione honestly considered the possibility. She had always enjoyed helping Ron and Harry out with their essays and this year she dedicated some of her free time to lead study groups for arithmancy and transfiguration. And she was most certainly enjoying herself. But coming back to Hogwarts had also the very nice advantage that she was unreachable for the press for the time being. Harry and Ron were almost constantly featured in the daily prophet and more than once they complained in their letters about being stalked by the press. She had no problems to believe Harry's annoyance, but with Ron, she wasn't so sure. Hermione could as well imagine, that he was secretly enjoying the attention, as he had finally managed to distinguish himself from his other siblings. And Hermione was happy for him. But she herself was glad to be behind the thick wards of Hogwarts, where she could enjoy her peace and quiet. Well, until today. Today were the festivities for the end of the last wizarding war and the grounds of Hogwarts were swarmed by ministry employees and press alike. And for Hermione, there was no hiding. It was like everybody as determined to catch up all the lost opportunities to interview the muggle-born war hero Hermione Granger or to at least be seen with her. And quite frankly: Hermione couldn't wait for the day to be finally over. Almost all the Weasleys attended the celebrations. Bill stood proudly next to his heavily pregnant but beautiful wife and even Charly had come from Romania and stood with his parents and Ron with a grim and protective face. Even George was there, but he stood in the back of the crowd and when Hermione finally managed to get a good look at him, she almost gasped in shock. He looked years older and his eyes were dull and almost lifeless when he looked back at her. His whole body had gotten thin like a whip and his ginger hair was saggy and hung limply from his head. Hermione was shocked. It was obvious that the man needed help, that he was suffering and most likely drowning. And Hermione couldn't let that happen. But as much as Hermione tried, she didn't get a chance to talk to George for the rest of the day and when she finally managed to shake off her annoying band of followers, the man had already disappeared. It was beyond frustrating! The memory of his gaunt and tired eyes kept haunting her and so she found her way into the headmistress' office as soon as the festivities had died down for the day.

"Miss Granger, what can I do for you?" the stern woman greeted her with a warm smile and motioned towards the cushioned chair in front of her desk. Hermione stepped into the office with ease, as she had been there countless times before during the last year. "Has this visit something to do with your duties as Head Girl? Or did you come to talk to me about the position I offered you some time ago?"

Hermione shook her head and sat down. "I'm afraid it's neither headmistress, although I am almost sure I'll accept your offer by the end of the school year. But this evening I have come to ask a favour of you, professor."

Professor McGonagall looked at her with warm eyes. "Well, do speak up, then my dear," she encouraged her and Hermione nodded with a thankful smile.

"This is about George Weasley, professor. Have you seen him today?"

The older woman nodded sadly. "I have and I must admit that I am greatly worried. I know the lad for many years and to see him in such bad shape is making me beyond sad."

Hermione sighed. "We need to help him, professor. I don't know how, but I am determined to find out. I can't see him suffer like that and his family seems to be at a loss what to do with him. Ron has started running the shop for him and even quit Auror training for the time being and his mother is in no shape to help anybody but herself at the moment."

The professor rubbed her temples tiredly. "I understand Miss Granger, but I am not sure what the two of us can do here. What did you have in mind?"

Hermione kneaded her hands. "I don't know yet, but with your permission, I would like to travel to his flat today and talk to him. I am not sure if it will be of any use, but I am determined to try. Would that…. Would you grant me permission to leave the castle, professor?"

Minerva cast her a motherly smile. "You are the best and most trustworthy student this school has seen in years, Miss Granger. And the fact that you came to me to ask for permission instead of deciding things on your own, tells me everything I need to know. You may leave the castle until tomorrow evening."

Hermione cast the older witch a thankful smile. "Thank you, Professor. I promise to be careful. May I use your floo or shall I apparate from outside the wards?"

The professor looked at her sternly. "You may use the floo in this office. Please see to it, that you'll be back for dinner tomorrow. I'd like to discuss your visit with you afterwards."

Hermione nodded. "Very well, professor. And thank you so much."

2nd of May 1999

George's flat was dark when Hermione stumbled from the floo into the living room. She had never been here before but it was obvious that the place was in comparable bad shape to its owner. The floor was littered with empty bottles of firewhiskey and takeaway boxes, coated with a layer of dirt and grime. But the worst of all was the smell of the place. It was a mix of alcohol, rotten food and sickness that Hermione would have seen fit for a pub in Knockturn alley, but not for a flat housing a heartbroken bachelor.

"George?" Hermione called into the darkness, before taking a careful step forward. Still, she must have stepped on something as she heard the crunching sound of glass under her shoe. "George? It's Hermione," she called again, but there was no answer. The uneasiness in her stomach grew. What if he wasn't at home? Was he frequenting one of the countless pubs in the darker areas of London? Hermione straightened her back. It didn't matter. She had time until tomorrow evening and sooner or later George would have to come back home. She was determined to wait for him. And in the meantime, she could as well make herself useful.

George's living room was cleaned within half an hour. Hermione was by no means an expert at house-hold spells but she had taught herself enough to do basic cleaning and laundry. She would always prefer to do the cooking by hand but that was a relict of her muggle ancestry. And Hermione was fine with that as she enjoyed cooking quite a lot. It was a bit like potions but less challenging and much more rewarding if done correctly.

Next Hermione moved to the bathroom. She would have to use the facilities sooner or later and she wanted to make sure, that they were usable should the need arise. But as soon as she opened the door, she rushed in into the room with a gasp. There on the floor was George, passed out in a puddle of his own sickness and damp with sweat. She rushed to his side with a sob.

"George!" she called and vanished the vomit on the floor and on his clothes with a flick of her wand. Then she sunk down on her knees next to him and pulled him up. But his head just lolled dangerously to the side. "George, please wake up. It's Hermione," she called again, but her friend didn't stir. Did he drink himself into obliviation? Or had he possibly hurt himself? Hermione didn't know and she cursed herself for her lack of knowledge with diagnostic spells. She could perform do basic healing spells, but what was the use, if she couldn't tell if it was needed?

" 'mione?" George's voice suddenly pulled her out of her musings. She touched his unshaven cheek and cupped it with her hand.

"Yeah, it's me. I was worried about you, so I came over. Are you alright? Do you need help getting up?" she asked and searched his face frantically with her eyes. Just then he blinked and looked at her with blurry eyes.

" 'm sad, Hermione. Everything hurts, always hurts," he mumbled before tears welled up in his eyes and flowed down his cheeks.

"Oh George," she sighed and cradled his head with her hands. "How can I help you?"

"Just stay with me for a bit, would you? I'm so alone, so cold," he mumbled before his eyes closed again and his head sagged to the side. Hermione nodded under tears. "Of course," she said before pulling him into her lap. "I'll be here George. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."