Remember for Us Both

by SlytherinCat

Kingsley is recounting the progression of his wife's illness and the moments that stayed with him to his children. Written for Hermione's Nook Rare Pair Fest

Written in response to a challenge by the facebook group: Hermione's Nook for their 'Rare Pair Fest'.

The prompt was: Kingsley/Hermione - Amnesia, minimum 1k

I think I need to say some things before this starts.

Alzheimer's is a terrifying and very painful disease. For everyone involved.

Alzheimer's doesn't make sense. The things they see and hear and think don't make sense to us. Our reactions often don't make sense…to them or to us.

That being said…I tried to make this as realistic as possible.

And I'm sorry.

A huge Thank You to ArielSakura and noxsoulmate for betaing/alphaing this story. You guys are the best! 💚

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Remember For Us Both

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2030, Now

They were all in the living room. Alaric and Meredith were spread out on the floor in front of the couch where Kingsley was sitting comfortably.

"How did it start back then? Did you know what was happening?" Meredith asked him.

... ... ...

Then

"Hi Luv, I'm home!" Kingsley called into the house.

His day had been exhausting and he was looking forward to spending some time with his wife. He was curious about how her day had been. She had wanted to hire a new teacher recently and he knew she had a few interviews lined up for the day.

"Hermione?" He called again.

"Kitchen!"

He followed the sound of her voice. She was standing unmoving across the kitchen staring out the window. Her shoulders were tense.

"Hey," he greeted, when he reached her, embracing her from behind and crossing his fingers over her stomach. "How was your day?"

"I forgot to pick up Teddy and get milk. I wanted to go buy milk but I forgot." Her voice sounded higher than usual.

That was an odd combination. Teddy and milk? Why did she want to get milk?

Kingsley was confused, he had dropped by Remus' today. His friend hadn't said anything about Hermione picking up Teddy. Usually, she herself would have told him if they had the little boy to visit but she hadn't. Maybe she'd just forgotten to mention it. That had been happening a lot lately, and with other things too.

"Luv? What are you talking about? Were we supposed to get Teddy? And why would you want to get milk? Neither of us drinks it."

"We needed milk. I didn't get it and now he's going to be hungry. I'm sorry!" She turned around in his embrace and he saw that she had tears in her eyes.

What was going on? Had the day been this hard on her? Who was she talking about? Had she wanted to get milk for Teddy?

"Hey, hey, it's okay." He cupped her cheek and wiped away the tear that was travelling down her face. "It's just milk. I'm sure we'll manage without it. We can still get some tomorrow. That's not too late."

She sniffled and buried her face against his chest mumbling incoherently. He couldn't make sense of what she was saying.

"Do you want to talk about your day? About how the interviews went?" He tried distracting her when he thought she had calmed down a little. He hadn't seen her cry in a while.

"What interviews?" She murmured against his chest.

He frowned.

"Didn't you interview applicants for a new teaching position, today?" He asked cautiously.

She pulled back and stared at him. There were still tears in the corner of her eyes.

"Right! You're right. I did. There were a lot of them but I did narrow it down to three candidates. I wanted to speak with Dean before making a final decision though."

Her voice was back to normal now. She didn't sound panicked or frightened anymore. He took a deep breath.

Dean Thomas had been instrumental in helping Hermione start the school she was now successfully running. She had immediately decided to make him her Deputy Headmaster and they worked extraordinarily well together. He would help her make the right choice for a new teacher.

"That's great, luv." He examined her face for any signs of distress but she seemed fine again.

She had a little smile playing around her lips and he kissed her nose tenderly, trying to chase away the bad feeling her prior state had caused within him.

"Are you hungry? I can make-"

"How about we order in?" He interrupted her. "Let's just make ourselves comfortable on the couch and have food brought to us."

"Sounds perfect!" She pecked him on the lips quickly and stepped away to decide on where to order from.

He didn't follow her immediately. His mind was replaying their conversation. His gut was telling him something was wrong but he didn't know what. She had been confused and hadn't made a lot of sense with what she was saying but… everyone could have those days, right? It didn't mean anything was wrong.

He looked at her, seeing her rummaging through a drawer beside the muggle refrigerator.

Hermione had taught him a lot in their many years together. The first thing she had done was introduce him to muggle technology and it had opened his eyes to a completely different world.

He had always prided himself in being very open-minded and welcoming to all witches, wizards and muggles alike. He had learned a lot during the second war while he was protecting the muggle prime minister, but Hermione had blown his mind with her knowledge and ingenuity.

The way she had incorporated the muggle world into their lives and the lives of their friends still stunned him to this day. It was just another thing about her that made him love her all the more.

Thankfully, the Wizarding World as a whole had become more welcoming to muggle culture which was the reason they were now able to order in food. There were several different companies that had picked up on the gold mine that food delivery was. You could order by owl or by floo. There was even the possibility of having it delivered to your front door via broom.

"What are you in the mood for, Kings?" She asked him pulling out the different flyers. "Thai, Indian, Chinese, ooh what about sushi? Or plain old pizza?"

"I have no preference. You pick." He told her, still lost in thought.

She didn't seem to notice.

He couldn't stop thinking about her behaviour. The more he thought about it the more he remembered similar moments from the past weeks.

The way she had asked him where Crookshanks was. As if she couldn't recall what had happened to her cat. The way she seemed to always forget where she put her keys or sometimes even her wand which worried him a lot.

Just last week, she had to ask him three times for the name of their dinner companions although she'd met them before. Sometimes she'd forget other little things he told her. Twice he had received a memo from his assistant Lara that his wife was waiting for him in his office to have lunch with her. Despite him telling her previously, he wouldn't be able to make it because he was occupied with Wizengamot sessions or a meeting with another Minster or some such thing.

Did all of these moments have something in common?

"Luv, what are you doing with that bowl?" He asked her, his gaze sharpening on what she was actually doing.

She turned to him holding a little bowl filled with water.

"I'm going to put out a water bowl for him so he has something to hold him over until I can get the milk tomorrow. Oh, and I decided on Indian. I'm in the mood for something spicy." She added before turning around and placing the bowl next to the entrance to the kitchen.

"Who are you talking about?" He asked her, a worrying hunch in his gut.

She looked at him confused.

"Crookshanks, of course. Are you feeling okay, Kings?" She approached him, examining his face.

He took her hand when she reached him, holding her gaze.

"Luv, you do know Crookshanks is gone, right?" His voice was soft, cautious.

She chuckled.

"Well, of course he is! But you know that he's always roaming around in the neighbourhood. He'll be back." She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss before squeezing his hand and walking out of the kitchen.

Kingsley couldn't say anything. He was flabbergasted. Was she in denial? That was absurd. It had been years since Crookshanks had passed and he knew she had dealt with the grief his passing had caused. Why did she think…? He shook his head. It was probably just the stress of the day. She was just confused.

He followed her out of the kitchen. He wondered though, if perhaps he should make an appointment at St. Mungo's, just to be sure.

o.O.o.

They hadn't gone to St. Mungo's, partly because there hadn't been time. He had asked her about that evening but she'd just waved him off. So mostly, he hadn't pressed her to go because there wasn't any reason to anymore. There hadn't been any more weird moments in the past three weeks.

They had both been fairly busy. Hermione was trying to school her teaching staff in the latest muggle technologies that could be applied in their courses. He himself had been buried under a mountain of press conferences, paperwork and international negotiations.

When he had returned home at night, Hermione had either already gone to bed or wasn't even home yet. The few times they had seen each other at night they had been busy with more physical connections than verbal ones.

So he had put the incident out of his mind. Apart from, the persistent nagging feeling in his gut, that he wondered if he should question more.

There was a knock on his office door.

"Come in." He called and the door opened immediately.

"Minister Shacklebolt, I'm sorry but it's your wife."

"Send her in, Lara. You know you don't have to announce her."

"No, Sir. She's not here. She's at St. Mungo's."

"Okay. Thank you for that information but I don't think it's relevant for me to know that she accompanied a student to-"

"Sir!" She interrupted him loudly.

He looked up in surprise and immediately noticed the grave face she was making.

"It's not about one of her students. Your wife has been in an accident."

He was out of his chair and standing inside his fireplace before his quill had dropped onto the desk.

"Cancel my day, Lara." He told her quickly before dropping the floo powder in his hand and travelling to St. Mungo's.

Being the Minister did come in handy, especially in emergencies. It didn't take long for the staff to direct him to his wife's room when he stepped out of the hospital fireplace.

His eyes found her immediately when he entered. Hers were open and she was staring at the ceiling. She was lying in bed, looking small and a little pale. He had closed the distance between the door and her bedside in three long strides and took her hand in his.

"Luv?"

Her eyes flicked to his and closed in relief. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently.

"Hi Kings. I'm sorry they pulled you out of the office." She told him quietly.

"Are you joking? Of course I'd come." He pulled up a chair and sat down next to her bed.

He didn't yet know what had happened to her or how badly she was injured. He examined her as closely as he could with the blanket covering most of her. Her face looked fine, no obvious injuries there.

"Of course." She echoed his words and cupped his cheek.

"Tell me what happened. How bad is it?"

"Just a stupid accident. I hit my head. But I haven't been here long. The healer will be here any minute."

"No one has examined you yet?"

She shook her head. Then the door opened and the healer stepped inside. Before he could say anything, Kingsley had already risen from his chair.

"You haven't looked her over yet? What have you been doing?" His voice sounded harsh in the quiet room.

The healer looked taken aback.

"Of course we have, she's been examined already, Minister Shacklebolt. I'm Senior Staff Healer Andrew Sloan. I did it myself when she arrived." The Healer frowned.

Kingsley calmed down a little. He should stop jumping down people's throats and let them talk first.

"So what happened? How is she?"

"She was brought in about forty minutes ago with a head laceration and several fairly deep cuts to her face and arms. She was showing signs of dizziness and confusion. We checked her immediately, fixed the bleeding inside her brain and repaired the damaged part of her skull. The cuts were easily healed. She just needs rest now and we want to watch her overnight for any possible residual brain damage from the accident. That was one hard hit she took but she should be fine." He ended while checking the file he was carrying.

Kingsley had balled his hands into fists while he listened. He was relieved Hermione would be fine again but he still didn't know exactly how the accident had happened. Everything the Healer had explained sounded quite severe and despite his reassuring words he looked worried still.

"How did she hit her head?" Kingsley asked him.

"I'm right here, you know," came the annoyed voice of his wife from behind him.

He sat back down next to her taking her hand again.

"Tell me."

"It was just a stupid accident, Kings. I tried to contain an experiment inside a glass sphere and it just blew up and I… kinda flew back against the wall. It was nothing!" She tried to soothe him and failed miserably.

"What did you do? Were you alone? You know you're not supposed to experiment alone. Explain to me what you tried to do."

"Don't treat me like a little kid. I know what I was doing! It was just a stupid accident. Accidents happen! Just leave it. I'm fine now." Her voice coming out sharp.

He didn't have the nerve to juggle her ego right now. He was still worried about her.

"Listen, I am worried. I get to be worried because I'm your husband and I love you. You don't get to downplay the fact that you seriously injured your beautiful brain." He kept his voice calm. "I just want you to look out for yourself because you're very important to this man here." He pointed to himself and saw the corner of her mouth lift up. "Okay?"

"Okay." She agreed with an eye roll. But it was enough for him.

She was a stubborn woman and he loved her for it but it was also annoying sometimes. Especially, when it came to her own wellbeing.

She had never lost her nature of taking care of other people. It was still one of her fundamental characteristics to help others but she often forgot about herself in the process so he had to remind her from time to time.

It was one of the reasons she had decided to quit her position in the DMLE and tackle the enormous task of establishing a new school in Britain. A school for children below the age of eleven. The idea had started out of her desire to integrate muggleborn witches and wizards into the Wizarding culture. It had soon expanded to introducing half-bloods and purebloods to muggle culture.

Now, only two years after founding the school, it had become bigger than they'd ever imagined and they needed to constantly expand and reinvent the establishment.

He had no words for how incredibly proud he was of her.

"Minister Shacklebolt, may I speak with you outside, please? It's just about some forms you need to fill out." The healer's voice reminded them that he was still inside the room.

Kingsley kissed Hermione's hand again and squeezed it before standing up.

"I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile.

She would be fine.

He followed the healer outside and along the hallway into his office.

"Please take a seat, Minister."

"What do you need me to sign?" He asked, failing to keep the impatience out of his voice.

He wanted to get back to his wife. He was still worried about her, although he knew she was fine now. Being close to her would help him make sure she would stay that way.

"I'm sorry for the ruse but it has nothing to do with signing any forms. I didn't want to say anything in front of your wife because we have noticed she is easy to upset at the moment. Is that normal?"

"Is what normal? That she was a little agitated just now? She's probably embarrassed about messing up her experiment and being checked over so thoroughly."

"She told three different stories of what happened, Minister. When she arrived she was convinced it was Christmas."

That was odd, especially considering that Hermione loved Christmas. But anyone could be confused, that didn't mean anything. Besides, it was six months until then and she usually started looking for presents around this time.

"So? You said it yourself, she was dizzy and confused. That could be the explanation.." He challenged.

"She first told us she hit her head on an open window. Ten minutes after that she told a nurse that she stumbled, knocked over a glass of water and hit her head on the edge of a desk. When I just arrived back in her room she told the story with the experiment. Not to mention the fact that she thought we hadn't been by to examine her. Additionally, she was disoriented to both time and place."

"But this was all due to her accident. You said she would be fine now, no brain damage."

"I said there was no residual brain damage from the accident…" Healer Sloan trailed off, seemingly hesitant.

Kingsley waited for the man to continue. He noticed his own hands were starting to sweat and he couldn't keep his right knee from bouncing nervously.

"Minister, when she came in we had to do various diagnostic spells to determine the extent of her brain injury, which is how we discovered the bleeding."

"You said you took care of that, correct?"

"We did. However, the other results of our spells were worrying." Again he stopped.

"What do you mean by that?" Kingsley prodded him impatiently.

"Her brain, it-" He cleared his throat. "There are changes to her brain mass. It's almost as if it's… well, as if parts of her brain are dying off. There are early signs of atrophy in her brain mass."

Kingsley felt a pit open in his stomach.

"How…" he started but couldn't think of what to ask. He was too shocked. "Her brain… is dying?" His voice sounded slightly hoarse.

"Not exactly. Quite frankly, I've never encountered anything like this before, at least not… in someone so young."

"What does age have to do with it?"

The Healer pulled out his wand and waved it over the file he had been carrying earlier and then at the blank wall to Kingsley's right. There were pictures of brains on it now, a stark contrast to the white.

"It's easier if I show you, I think." Healer Sloan rose from his chair and stepped closer to the images.

"This is a picture of your wife's brain when we performed the spells earlier." He pointed to one.

Kingsley couldn't see anything weird, except for the fact that he was looking at an image of a brain… Hermione's brain. He nodded, although he had no clue what he was supposed to see.

"This…" Sloan pointed to the image of the brain next to Hermione's. "Is a picture of a brain from a wizard who was one hundred and eighty-six years old."

Kingsley looked closer, switching between the two images. He couldn't see anything that would worry him. Then again, he wasn't trained in reading these images.

"Minister Shacklebolt, this wizard could barely care for himself anymore. He was diagnosed with dementia. He couldn't remember his wife, who visited him every day. He couldn't talk anymore, at least not in a way we could understand. He died not two months after these pictures were conjured."

Kingsley snapped his eyes to Healer Sloan at his last words.

"What does this have to do with my wife?"

"I am not mincing my words right now because I need you to understand the severity of these images. When you compare your wife's images with these ones there are undeniable similarities between them. Her brain shows signs of early stages of dementia."

"Dementia? You must be joking, Healer Sloan. My wife is thirty-one for Merlin's sake! She's not an old witch with dementia!"

"That is exactly the reason why I am worried, Minister. It might just be the confusion from the hit she took but coupled with these images… I'd just like to keep her here for a few days to run more tests and observe her other symptoms."

"What other symptoms? No. She needs rest and she doesn't need to be prodded for no good reason. If you yourself say it's because of her dizziness, then we don't need to do anything."

"Minister-"

"No. Now, I'd like to take my wife home."

The Healer seemed to want to argue further but thought otherwise.

"Very well, Minister. You can take her home with you. You should stay with her and monitor her behaviour for the next few days and maybe weeks. Please, contact us if you think she's acting out of character or if she shows other symptoms."

Kingsley barely listened to the rest of the Healer's words before walking out purposefully back to Hermione's room.

Healer Sloan was wrong. Hermione would be fine. A hit to the head could mess with a person quite severely. She just needed to be home and be with him.

... ... ...

Now

"We didn't know... or at least, I didn't know. It started subtly. She forgot where she put things like her watch or her wedding band. Even her wand a few times." Kingsley told his children.

"Didn't that worry you?" Alaric interjected.

"I was in denial, to be honest... it took me a while to connect all the signs but yes, the fact that she would misplace her wand worried me a lot. Back then, it had been twelve years since the war had ended but we never truly lost our instincts. To this day, I always know where my wand is and can easily get it."

"We know, dad." Alaric threw his sister a meaningful look and they all laughed.

There had been quite a few instances where Kingsley had been startled or worried and had overreacted by drawing his wand. The kids had been scared more than once.

They had started retaliating when they got older, though.

Dangerous little creatures these children.

"Why didn't you bring her to St. Mungo's again?" Meredith asked carefully. She didn't sound reproachful just curious.

He sighed.

"I could tell you that I didn't know any better, that I didn't see it but that would be a lie. I was scared,Mer Scared of what it would mean for her. I didn't want to see it so I ignored it as long as I could. Looking back now I don't know how I could for such a long time. There were so many incidents that should've been eye opening but... something prevented me from acknowledging them."

He still carried the blame with him for not doing anything for so long.

... ... ...

Then

They were out for dinner in one of their favourite restaurants. They had accumulated quite a few preferred places throughout their years together. They didn't go out that much due to the fact that both their jobs were very demanding and they usually enjoyed their quiet life at home.

Today they had felt like going out, though. Hermione had suggested it and he was more than happy to take her out.

They had been seated at their table for about an hour now. They had just finished their main course and were contemplating if they wanted to order a dessert.

During the last half hour, she had been throwing contemplative glances to the waiter but so far she hadn't said anything about him other than a short comment at the beginning of the evening that he could be a long lost Malfoy heir. He had to agree.

The young man seemed around the age of seventeen or eighteen. Probably fresh out of Hogwarts. He was new here as far as Kingsley could tell but he seemed to manage quite well.

"I don't get it." She suddenly said putting down the menu.

"What do you mean, luv?"

"He finished school with me and he is a rich heir… why is he working here?"

"Who are you talking about?" He looked around the restaurant but couldn't pinpoint who she meant.

She frowned at him.

"Malfoy, of course. I'm surprised he hasn't said anything to us, yet. I mean, we aren't enemies anymore but he still always had a biting remark when… Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hermione... Malfoy isn't here."

"He's been waiting on us this whole time. Haven't you been paying attention?"

He took another look at their waiter. He knew that that wasn't Draco Malfoy. Why was Hermione convinced that he was?

"Luv, we both know Draco Malfoy. He's the same age as you. This boy is barely out of Hogwarts. That's not him."

She was frowning now, staring at the waiter than back to him.

"Why hasn't he said anything, yet?" She asked, completely ignoring everything he'd told her.

Thanks to her intense staring, though the waiter thought they wanted to order something and he came over. Kingsley was equal parts intrigued and anxious about what she would do.

"Minister Shacklebolt, Mrs Granger-Shacklebolt. Can I get you anything else?"

"Why don't you acknowledge us?"

Kingsley was unsure how to proceed. He didn't want Hermione to be embarrassed but he also didn't want the boy to get in trouble. He had been very diligent and charming.

"I'm sorry, ma'am? I only just saw you looking at me. I'm afraid I was otherwise occupied."

Hermione's eyes suddenly held a fire Kingsley usually loved seeing, but in this particular situation, her temper could only make this more awkward.

"Don't try to ferret-"

"What my wife is actually trying to say," he interrupted her with his deep voice, "is that we would like the bill, please."

Thankfully, the waiter left swiftly with a nod before Hermione could say another thing.

"Why did you do that?" She turned her gaze on him and he swallowed.

"Let's talk about it at home, yeah?" He tried to placate her. It seemed to work semi-well. She didn't push it further but she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

He hoped she wouldn't say anything more to the poor boy when he returned and he was actually in luck. Hermione was distracted looking out the window when he came over and Kingsley quickly paid their bill, tipping the boy generously.

When they arrived home she didn't remember her fixation on their waiter or her confusion about his identity.

Kingsley decided to put the incident out of his mind. It had probably just been the wine.

o.O.o.

A week later he was in the kitchen preparing dinner. It was rare that he returned home before Hermione but whenever he did he tried to treat her to one of her favourite meals.

He was in the process of chopping carrots. Hermione had convinced him how relaxing it could be to do things the muggle way and he had to admit that he indeed enjoyed cooking without magic. He was reaching for the next carrot when he heard the fireplace in the living room and frowned. Was that Hermione? Why didn't she come through the front door?

"Oh, hello Kingsley. You know a weird thing just happened." She told him while entering the kitchen.

"Oh?" He prompted her still half in thought. When was the last time she had called him Kingsley at home?

"I came out the wrong fireplace. Don't even know where I landed. And I'm sure I said the destination clearly."

"You mean on your way home?" Why didn't she apparate? She always did after work because she hated the floo.

There was a short pause.

"On my way here, yes. I honestly have no idea what happened."

He had finished with the carrots and moved on to peppers.

"Why didn't you apparate? I thought you hated the floo." He looked up from his cutting board and took a look at her. She was standing next to the refrigerator. Something was different about her.

She threw him a look and then snorted.

"Why would I risk my freedom when I can just use the floo? I'm convinced I'll get used to it one day."

He was confused. What was she talking about?

"Why would you be risking your freedom?" He said with a laugh not taking her comment seriously.

She looked at him funny.

"Are you pulling my leg, Kingsley?"

He just shook his head. It felt weird hearing her call him by his full name. She looked... older? No, that wasn't right. She looked... worn. Like something had been eating away at her for some time. She hadn't looked like this when she'd left this morning.

"If I apparate and the Ministry gets wind of it they'll throw me into Azkaban... or worse. I don't have a license, yet, you know that."

His jaw dropped. He couldn't help it. What was going on? Was she pulling his leg?

He was getting a really really bad feeling about this. The incident from the week before came to his mind.

He put his knife down and walked slowly towards her. He had a hunch. A very bad one. But his gut had never disappointed him in all his years. Not during his school years, not during his time as an Auror and not since he had started as Minister.

"Hermione, how old are you?"

She stared at him suspiciously.

"Sixteen... why are you asking?"

"Who am I to you?" He could barely control his voice after her answer.

"What are you trying to prove? That I'm me?"

His hunch intensified and his stomach dropped but he ignored it as best he could.

"Just humour me, please."

She huffed but relented.

"Fine. You're Kingsley Shacklebolt, high ranking member of the Order of the Phoenix, Auror and a friend… what? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I say?"

He didn't know how to react.

"Are you serious?"

"Kingsley. What is going on? Why are you behaving so weirdly and where are the others? Not that I'm complaining but I don't think I've ever seen you chop vegetables. Where is Mrs Weasley?"

"Stop it!" He thundered, far louder than he had intended.

She flinched back and he regretted it immediately.

Whatever was going on with her she seemed to be convinced she was sixteen again. Which also meant she was thinking that Voldemort was still out there. That would explain why she seemed so worried. But why? Was she having a flashback? She hadn't had those in years. Her behaviour actually scared him.

He reached out to take her hand but she pulled away.

"Tell me what's going on. You're scaring me." She said slowly.

He tried to recall how their relationship had been back then. He hadn't had that many interactions with her. He had been a frequent visitor at headquarters but hadn't seen her that often. Of course, she wouldn't let him touch her just like that. She probably thought he was coming on to her. Their relationship had only picked up after the war. He was making her uncomfortable.

He forced himself to remain at a distance. He didn't know what this was but he knew he had to tread carefully. If she was indeed triggered and caught in a flashback he needed to try to keep her calm and get her out of it.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I wasn't trying to scare you. I was just… surprised to see you. That's all." She still looked suspicious. "It was a test, you're right. Asking questions only you can know is a very reliable method to determine if you have the real person in front of you instead of an imposter."

Her gaze relaxed.

"Well, in that case, it worked, right? I'm me." She paused. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you who you say you are?" She eyed him closely.

Crap. What if she asked him something he couldn't remember?

"Who am I to you?" She turned his earlier question on him.

He wanted to say that she was the love of his life. That she was his wife and he was her husband and that they had been together for a decade. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, but he knew that would just worsen the situation right now.

"You are Harry's and Ron's best friend. You're the brightest witch of your age and we are friends."

"Those are all things anyone could know." She looked at him with honest suspicion now. Dammit, what had he gotten himself into?

"You're absolutely right, Hermione." He tried to think of anything that would convince her of his identity and not freak her out.

"Your Patronus is an otter, your favourite book is and probably always will be Hogwarts: A History and you hate Ron's eating habits."

"Random but fine, you pass." She told him seriously.

He let out a subtle breath of relief.

"Do you mind if I go upstairs? I'm tired, I think I'll go lie down until dinner's ready if you don't need any help?"

"I-... yeah, no, of course. Go lie down, I'll call you when it's done."

"Thanks, Kingsley." She smiled at him and turned around leaving him alone in their kitchen.

This felt surreal. He turned around and braced himself against the counter. What had happened that had thrown her mind back in time like this. She had been convinced it was what?…1996? What caused such a drastic shift in perspectives? He couldn't think of anything.

Maybe he should floo someone? But who? He didn't want to bother Harry with… with what exactly? He wasn't even sure what this was. He had to find out what had happened before he could talk to anyone.

Maybe she'd be okay when dinner was ready. He could use the rest of the time finishing dinner to come up with possible reasons and hopefully his Hermione would be back and he could talk to her about it.

She was the one he wanted to talk to because she was always the one who knew what to do.

... ... ...

Now

"Did you ask her about it?"

Kingsley looked at his son and nodded.

"It wasn't pretty."

... ... ...

Then

They were sitting on the couch watching TV. One of Hermione's soap operas. She called them her guilty pleasure. He enjoyed them himself from time to time. But tonight he was distracted. He was absentmindedly tracing patterns on her legs which she had placed in his lap.

He had been contemplating how to approach what he wanted to say for the past hour.

"Hermione… do you remember yesterday evening?" He carefully started.

She turned her eyes to him and frowned.

"What about it?" There was already an edge to her voice.

"What do you remember about it?"

She huffed annoyed.

"What are you on about? I thought we were just going to enjoy our quiet night in?"

"We are. It's just a question, luv."

She rolled her eyes.

"Fine. I came home, lay down for a bit, you made dinner, we ate, we went to bed. Satisfied?"

"Do you remember coming home by floo?" He searched her face for a reaction.

Her eyes narrowed.

"No. Why would I come home by floo? It's awful."

He held her gaze captive.

"So you also don't remember telling me you were sixteen and expecting Molly Weasley to be here to make dinner? You also don't remember the fact that you didn't recognize me as your husband?" He listed off quickly.

There was a moment of silence. Then she started laughing.

"Where do you come up with this stuff? It's ridiculous." She managed to get out when she had her laughter under control.

"It wasn't ridiculous when you were standing in front of me talking nonsense." He said with an edge.

She pulled her legs towards her and shifted her weight to move closer to him.

"Kings" she put her hand on the back of his neck and started running her fingers through his hair. "What are you talking about?" She asked softly.

"I'm not sure if the fact that you can't remember makes me worried or angry. Are you denying it on purpose? Because if you're not and you actually can't remember what I mean, then I'm more than worried and I think we should go to St. Mungo's to get you checked out." He stated calmly.

She pulled back, her eyes flashing.

"St. Mungo's? For what? There's nothing wrong with me. Everything's fine. I don't know what you think this will accomplish but I'm not going to the hospital." She said vehemently.

"It's not just last night. It's the fact that you keep asking for Crookshanks and you keep misplacing things. You forget a lot of things. You gave the hospital staff three different stories when you were injured a few weeks ago. You confuse things… you confuse people. You were convinced we were waited on by Draco Malfoy, of all people, just last week. You're starting to scare me, Hermione." He ended quietly searching her face for a reaction.

There was a pause. Several emotions flitted across her face so fast he couldn't name them. What she settled on, however, was anger.

"This is absurd! Where do you get these ideas? I'm perfectly fine. If I said something weird I was probably just tired. Is this some kind of ruse to get me to a Healer?" She straightened up and tapped her fingers impatiently on the back of the couch.

Now it was his turn to frown.

"It's not a ruse. I do want to get you to a Healer because I'm worried about you. This isn't normal, Hermione." He tried to keep his voice calm.

"You think it's my fault, don't you?" She hissed.

He was taken aback. What did she mean?

"No, of course, I don't think that. None of this is your fault. Like I said I'm just worried about you. You have to admit these things are not normal." He tried again.

She scoffed.

"You just want to get me to St. Mungo's to lay the blame at my feet for not being pregnant yet!"

His mouth dropped open. How did she even think he would blame her for that? They weren't even talking about that now, not even close. So why did she draw the conclusion he was trying to blame her for not getting pregnant? He didn't blame her at all. He knew that it took time for some couples and he wasn't in a rush to have kids.

He had told her all those things before. Had she not heard him? Had she not believed him?

They had decided to start trying for a child about a year ago. They had both agreed that whatever happened and however long it took they would just enjoy their time together. Practice made perfect, everyone knew that.

"Screw you, Kingsley. I'm going to bed." She snapped.

Before he could close his mouth let alone say something she had stood up and stormed out of the living room.

He was left alone feeling like shit.

... ... ...

Now

"She denied everything. The existence of her episodes and any other symptoms or things I would name. Whenever I tried to bring them up, she always explained them away. Or tried to. The further it progressed the more absurd the explanations became. She often became quite mad when I asked her about them." He paused.

"Mama knew, though. She'd had to have known. Otherwise, she would have tried to get to the bottom of it, not deny the existence of it all." Meredith stated.

She'd always been just as brilliant as her mother, possibly even more so.

"Of course, she did. Though, she didn't tell me until much later." He still felt hurt, thinking about that part. "I talked to Harry and Remus about it. They had different opinions. Harry didn't think there was anything worrying about her behaviour and Remus… Remus was actually convinced that she knew what was happening this whole time… which turned out to be true."

... ... ...

Then

"I talked to Harry, today." He paused not sure how he wanted to approach what was running through his mind since the conversation.

Remus looked up at him. "About Hermione?"

Kingsley nodded.

"You're really worried, aren't you?"

"I just… I've never seen her like this and the fact that she's not aware of the episodes is making it really hard. I feel like the only person who could tell me what to do is her. She always knows what to do, you know? She's the one with the answers. Not being able to analyze it with her feels wrong."

He met Remus' eyes. He didn't want to unload all his troubles on him but he needed someone to talk to who had a different view on the matter.

"What did Harry say?" Remus wanted to know.

"He compared it to Ginny's forgetfulness during her pregnancy and suggested that Hermione was pregnant… but I know she's not." He couldn't keep the disappointment entirely out of his voice.

"I'm sorry, Kingsley. You were trying?"

Kingsley nodded.

"We've been trying for a while. But it isn't just that. It's the fact that I wished it to be true because it would've been an explanation. Now, I still have no idea what's causing it."

"You should bring her to St. Mungo's. They have to be able to help somehow."

"She refuses."

"She refuses? Why would she? She has to notice that something's not right. Even if it's not that intense. Who's to say it's not going to get worse?"

Kingsley grimaced painfully. Remus examined his friend.

"It already has, hasn't it? It's gotten worse?"

"I'm scared, Remus." His voice barely more than a whisper.

"Kingsley? What is it?" Remus' eyes grew bigger, not having seen his friend like this ever before.

"It's getting worse every day. I didn't tell Harry about it. I haven't told anyone to be honest. Last night she... she didn't know me. She didn't know who I was." He flicked his eyes to Remus who looked shocked. "When I told her who I was she didn't know." His voice broke.

"Are you sure? Maybe she just-"

"She just what, Remus?!" He yelled suddenly. "What do you know that can cause a memory loss like that?! Because I can't think of anything and she... she couldn't remember me explaining it to her. She was just worried because I looked sad. And I couldn't tell her!"

His friend just looked at him stunned and waited for him to calm down a little. He had needed to get that off his chest. It had felt like it would suffocate him from inside. He felt bad immediately for yelling at Remus but he couldn't help it. It just broke out of him.

"When did it start?" Remus' voice sounded loud in the silence.

"Three months ago, I think." His voice more controlled now. "I'm unsure when exactly it started because I'm not sure if there were other symptoms before that. The confusion and memory loss started three months ago, as far as I can tell."

"Have you tried explaining to her what is happening?"

"I tried but it's like she doesn't acknowledge the fact that there is anything happening at all. I'm not sure why."

"Do you think she might be in denial?"

Kingsley examined his friend. There was this look in his eyes.

"You think she already knows what's happening and she doesn't want to tell me?"

Remus nodded cautiously.

"I'm not so sure. I have to talk to her again." He hesitated, recalling the night before. His eyes were burning.

He couldn't remember ever feeling this hopeless. He didn't know what to do, how to help her. He didn't even know if she knew anything about her episodes. The way she was acting led him to believe she didn't but she was always able to fool him if she wanted to, she was the cleverest witch of her age after all.

She would usually do it when she had a surprise planned for him or to tease him with something funny or frivolous. She had never done it to hurt him or keep something important from him. She had never done it with malicious intent.

"She wouldn't keep it from me if she knew what it was. That's not like her." He finally said more to himself than to Remus. Hoping he spoke the truth.

... ... ...

Now

"Why didn't she tell you, dad?" Alaric asked quietly.

"I'm not sure. I never asked her. I have my theories though…"

... ... ...

Then

"That's it. I'm taking you to St. Mungos." Kingsley said decidedly.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"No! I don't want to go. You can't force me to!" Her voice sounded shrill.

"I don't want to force you but I don't know how to help you anymore." He tried to convey how desperate he felt. "You didn't know who I was."

"That's complete rubbish! Of course, I know who you are!"

"Right now you do. Yesterday you didn't!" He couldn't keep the pain out of his voice. "You asked me where Crookshanks was three times this week and when I reminded you that he was dead you broke out in tears."

She froze, staring wide-eyed at him.

"Crookshanks is dead?" There was a quiver in her voice.

He wanted to scream.

"When? How? He was here yesterday!" She shrieked.

He knew he should embrace her or do something or say something but he couldn't. He felt trapped in the same scene. He tried to hold his own emotions back. She was screaming at him, desperately trying to find out what had happened to her cat.

Her cat that had died three years ago.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up! Just shut up! I'm sick of it. Always with that damn cat! It's always the same! Your cat is dead, Hermione and he has been dead for more than three years. Snap out of it! Just stop this! I can't take this anymore!" He yelled at her.

She let out a startled sound and took a step back as if he had slapped her. She stared at him fearfully.

She was scared of him.

"Luv-" he tried but she flinched and took another step back.

What had he done?

"Please, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to shout. I just... I don't know how to help you."

She hadn't moved back further but there were tears running down her cheeks and she wasn't making eye contact. She was confused and scared. He could see that plainly. She didn't understand why he had yelled at her. In her mind, she was just worried about her cat and he had lashed out at her for no good reason.

She acted like she didn't know him anymore. Like she thought he would actually hurt her. He had never even remotely given her reason to believe that in all their years together. Why was she scared of him now?

He was worried she wasn't recognizing him again. He sent a prayer to anyone who might be listening that this wasn't the case.

He was desperate. He had no idea what was happening to her.

He raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I'm so sorry. Please, don't be scared of me. I would never hurt you, you know that. You know me."

Her eyes flicked to his and it was almost like a fog was lifted. It took a few seconds but then she flung herself forward into his arms and he held her while she was sobbing.

He let his own tears trail down his cheeks, not sure if they were tears of pain or relief.

o.O.o.

It had taken a while to calm her down. He had to put his own feelings aside, which had been difficult, and he had comforted her.

She seemed to still be caught in her own mind. She had quieted down but was sniffling and hiccuping from time to time.

"I think we should go to St. Mungo's." He waited for her protests but there weren't any. "This doesn't seem normal and I'm really worried about you. Let's just get you checked out."

Again he waited for a reply but she stayed silent. Making up his mind he helped her up and led her towards the closet in the hallway where they kept their coats. She didn't protest when he dressed her in hers. Neither did she question why he summoned a bag. She didn't even raise her head when they stepped outside and he informed her they would travel via side-along apparition.

Only when they were already inside the walls of the Wizarding hospital did she raise her head to look at him.

"I don't want to be here." She whispered hollowly.

He squeezed her arm encouragingly and ignored his aching chest, leading her to the welcome desk.

The receptionist's greeting didn't fit the atmosphere. She was entirely too cheerful and awed by their presence which was why he immediately requested Healer Sloan.

It didn't take long for them to be admitted and brought to an examination room. It was quite late and he didn't feel bad about using his pull as the Minister to speed things along.

Hermione didn't say another word. He sat down next to her. She was clinging to him listening to the soothing words he was murmuring to her. He had a feeling that her episode was coming to an end and he wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing in this case.

Did the healer need to see proof or was it enough for him to explain it? What exactly was he going to say anyway? That his wife was losing her mind? Not likely, she would be carted off to the Janus Thickey Ward, although she hadn't been hit by any spells as far as he knew. But what did he know, really?

The door opened and Healer Sloan entered. He seemed to suspect the reason for their visit judging by his face.

It had been two months since Hermione's accident and the conversation he had with him. If he had listened to him back then, would it have made a difference? Was it his fault that it had progressed like this. Could he have stopped it?

"Minister Shacklebolt, Mrs Granger-Shacklebolt... how can I help?"

"The conversation we had when we were last here…" he drifted off and waited for the other man to respond. Sloan nodded. "I think... you might have been right. She's…" he trailed of and looked at Hermione.

"She's showing more symptoms?" The healer asked sympathetically.

Kingsley returned his gaze to him and nodded. Then he proceeded to recount every instance he could remember that had felt wrong or worrying, feeling as though he was betraying his wife with every word. Healer Sloan wanted to know the time frame and length of her episodes and anything else he might have noticed. He meticulously wrote everything down Kingsley told him.

Hermione stayed silent through it all. He felt scared. Her behaviour scared him even more.

When he had ended, the room descended into silence. Almost unbearably so. Only broken by the sound of the healer's pen and Kingsley's own loud heartbeats. Although, his heart could probably not be heard by the other two occupants.

Sloan leant forward and cleared his throat.

"Now before we start the examination, I'd like to share my theory with you. Mrs Granger-Shacklebolt, I think you-"

"I have Alzheimer's." Hermione interrupted him suddenly.

The healer looked taken aback. Kingsley watched Hermione sit up slightly straighter. He recognized it as her lecture mode - but there was something missing. It didn't look quite right.

"It's called Alzheimer's disease. Stemming from the fact that I'm thirty-one years old, it's likely the early-onset kind which is hereditary. My mum has it. She and my dad live in Australia but I can get you her medical records. You'll need them."

She sounded matter of fact. Like she was giving a lesson at school. Just significantly less passionate than she would usually.

Remus was right. She had known this whole time what was happening to her and she hadn't said anything. Not one word. She had kept it from him. Actively kept him from learning the truth that she was sick. He felt like he'd been punched.

He stared at his wife and couldn't say anything. Her mother was sick and she hadn't told him. She was sick and she hadn't told him.

Why?

Her parents were still living in Australia. She visited them once or twice a year. They had gone together in the early years of their relationship but now that he thought about it she had always gone alone in the past years.

Had she planned it like that? He tried to remember her last trip. It had been a while. Now that he thought about it, she hadn't been to visit them in almost a year. Why hadn't he noticed that at least?

Had she scheduled her last trip so that he wouldn't be able to come with her? If he remembered correctly he had been busy with the upcoming ludicrous request to bring back the Triwizard Tournament. As much as the Wizarding World had learned and adjusted they were still hellbent on fucking something up. He still couldn't believe people wanted that blasted tournament back. It was a good thing he had had a lot of support and the request to reinstate the tournament was denied.

Had Hermione deliberately visited her parents during that time because she knew he would be unable to accompany her? Had she done it before?

He stopped himself. It was no use thinking about this now. He wouldn't insinuate she would do something like that.

Nevertheless, she hadn't mentioned anything about her mother being sick. Nothing at all. Had she been sadder when she returned from her parents? He was ashamed to admit that he couldn't remember. Had that been when she had started to keep things from him? Well, one thing only. Alz-... Alzheimer's disease? He had never heard of it. But Healer Sloan seemed to know what Hermione was talking about.

"What is that? What is Alzheimer's?" He managed when he found his voice again.

The Healer opened his mouth to answer but Hermione was faster.

"It's a degenerative disease. It's a type of dementia that causes problems with memory, thinking and behaviour. The symptoms grow increasingly more severe over time. There's no stopping it. Soon, I won't be able to take care of myself anymore." Again her voice sounded hollow, as if citing a book. It was still his Hermione so she probably was.

She didn't look at him, however. She was staring straight ahead.

"You should put me in a caring facility before it gets too bad. I don't want to be a burden to you, Kings." She still had her face turned away from him.

He was unable to process all the information and the implications of them. She would fade away? Was that what she was saying?

He knew a little about dementia. There had been wizards and witches who went crazy in their old age. Confusing things, forgetting things. Not being able to experience their surroundings properly or at all. Not being able to communicate and then... they died.

This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening to her? There was a mistake. This wasn't possible. There was another explanation for this. This was absurd.

"We don't fully understand the disease, yet." Healer Sloan interrupted his increasingly grim thoughts. "So far, it has not been diagnosed in half-bloods or purebloods. Or younger people for that matter. However, there are similar symptoms that we've found in elderly witches and wizards. They usually suffer from dementia. What we do know about this early form is that it's hereditary. So, we will indeed need your mother's medical records, Mrs Granger-Shacklebolt. We will also need to do a lot of tests. Your symptoms seemed to already be quite severe."

Kingsley's thoughts were racing.

"But... she's thirty-one. How can this be happening?"

His question was met with silence.

Kingsley felt numb. He looked over to his wife. She was still staring straight ahead but she took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

"Put me in a care facility, Kings. Don't let my disease ruin your life." She repeated.

"Luv." He tugged on her hand to get her to turn to him but she wouldn't. "Look at me."

She didn't.

"Look at me, Hermione." He told her more forcefully.

Her dark brown eyes met his and he saw the tears she had been trying to hide. He released her hand and cupped her face in both of his.

"You're not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me for the rest of our lives. I will not abandon you. We will get through this together."

"You can't do this. You don't know what this will do to you. You'll hate me because I won't be myself and I won't be able to talk rationally and I won't-" she sobbed. "I won't recognize you. I won't remember you, or our friends or... anyone."

He could barely understand the last words. He still didn't fully understand what this disease was but he had seen glimpses of the things she had listed. She was right. He didn't know what this would do to him. But he knew no matter what it did, he wouldn't leave her.

"Listen to me, Hermione. No matter what happens, no matter what you say, or do, or feel, I will not leave. I will not hate you. I'll know you, even if you're not yourself and I will remember for the both of us as long as it takes until you're better. Because-" She opened her mouth to interrupt him but he was quicker. "Because we will find a way. There is always a way. Trust me."

She searched his eyes with her own desperate ones and nodded almost imperceptibly. Then she buried her head in his neck and cried.

He had tears in the corner of his own eyes but pushed them back and looked at the healer.

"We will find a cure." He ordered and Healer Sloan nodded determinedly.

... ... ...

Now

The two siblings shared another look. Their father was lost in his memories and from the look on his face, they were still very painful for him.

"Dad?" Alaric asked tentatively.

"Yeah, Ric?"

They had named Alaric after Kingsley's father. He was energetic and never truly stopped moving. Even now, his knee was bouncing rapidly.

"It was really bad, wasn't it?" His son asked.

"Yes, it was. It got really bad. There were times I was desperate and didn't know what to do anymore. It became just too much sometimes and I did and said things to your mother that weren't fair and hurt her very much. I'm not proud of that but it was a very difficult situation."

... ... ...

Then

She'd done it again. He had come home and promptly stumbled upon a little bowl of milk in the kitchen, spilling the contents all over the floor.

With a flick of his wand, the mess was gone but his mood had drifted from worried to downright bad. He knew it wasn't fair to feel this way but he couldn't help it. He was starting to get truly sick of this.

No matter how many times he talked about it with her she had repeated her actions almost every night. And he couldn't even blame her. What kind of a husband would he be if he did? He had promised her support in sickness and in health and he would make sure to stay true to it. No-one had told him, however, that it would be this painful and difficult.

He shrugged out of his coat and put it in the closet in the hallway. Then he picked up Crookshanks bowl and put it in the sink.

Hermione wasn't in the kitchen or living room, but that wasn't surprising. No matter how progressed her disease was getting she could always be found in the library with her nose buried in a book.

Although, thinking about it, even that behaviour had grown infrequent. She was often very tired and couldn't understand many of the things she was reading.

It broke his heart. She'd always loved to disappear into her books and he had loved watching her do it. The look on her face had made him feel unbelievably lucky to be able to call her his and be a part of her life.

He called for her but didn't receive an answer.

His next stop was indeed the library but she wasn't in there. The lights were off. Maybe she had gone to bed already? It was half-past eight, not even dark outside. He followed his hunch and checked their bedroom.

There she was, lying in bed on her side, facing the window. All he could see was her back.

"Hermione?" He called quietly. "Are you still awake?"

"Yes." Her answer was short and clipped. Not a good sign.

He walked around their bed and knelt down in front of her. Her eyes focused on him and she drew the corner of her mouth up on one side as a greeting.

"Hi." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Has your day been tiring?"

"I'm worried, Kings." She reached out and took his hand in hers, entwining their fingers.

"What are you worried about? Maybe I can help you." He prodded cautiously.

His first thought was one of relief. She had recognized him. It had happened more often than he cared to admit that she didn't know who he was. He had to be careful with how he approached her. It was always worse in the evenings.

"I don't think so. Or can you think of any places where Crookshanks could be hiding? I've been looking for him everywhere."

He sighed, steeling himself for the conversation he had been having with her almost every night for the past two months.

"What? Why do you look so grave?... no... have you found him? Is he hurt?!" She sat up quickly throwing off his balance in the process because their hands were still entwined. He landed unceremoniously on his arse.

He couldn't do it again. Breaking her heart again and again by trying to make her understand her cat had died years ago was breaking his own every time. Making up his mind he tried a different approach.

"No, luv. I'm sure he's fine. You know how he is. He's probably making friends with strange dogs somewhere and will turn up in a few days with his tail held high and this look he gets when he knows you've been worried and he thinks it's ridiculous."

She snorted. That was a new reaction. She pulled on his hand and he sat up again, joining her on the bed. She put her head on his shoulder and hummed approvingly.

"You're right. I'm just worried because he's getting old, you know? I'm scared he won't come home one day and we'll never know."

"That won't happen. He's way too feisty for that. Just like his human." He nudged her gently and she laughed.

She lifted her head and looked at him.

"I love you, Kings. You know that?"

"Of course, I do."

She smiled and pulled him close for a sweet kiss.

Merlin, he missed her.

o.O.o.

He was in the middle of his eighth report when there was an urgent knock on the door. He wanted to get the paperwork done quickly so he could go to lunch with his wife. He glanced at the clock on the wall. She was late. That very rarely happened.

"Come in." He called. "I'm almost done with checking these reports, luv, then I'm all yours."

Expecting his wife standing in the door when he looked up he was surprised to see Arthur Weasley there beside her... holding her hand?

"Arthur?" He let his old friend's name drift off.

"Hello, Kingsley." Arthur's usually friendly demeanour was missing. His voice sounded cautious, worried.

Hermione hadn't said anything, yet. She was just standing next to Arthur looking around his office.

Arthur gave Kingsley a look he couldn't quite decipher. Then he tugged on Hermione's hand and led her to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Still, she stayed silent and was just looking around curiously. What was going on? Hermione hadn't gotten this bad yet, had she? He had a sinking feeling in his stomach which told him that was the case. He didn't want to believe it.

Having placed Hermione in a chair, Arthur padded her hand and moved around to stand next to Kingsley's own chair.

"Arthur? What is going on?" He automatically lowered his voice. He got the feeling Arthur had something to say his wife wouldn't like to hear. He started to get concerned for real now, as Arthur's face held a lot of worry.

"I found her wandering around in the Department of Mysteries. I was on my way back from dropping off some muggle artefacts we'd confiscated."

Kingsley frowned but waited for his friend to continue. Why would Hermione go to the DoM? Especially when they were supposed to meet up for lunch.

"She was lost, Kingsley. Lost in the Death Chamber. Murmuring about getting him out of there and when she spotted me…" Arthur paused looking gravely.

Kingsley couldn't feel his fingers any longer. His extremities went cold and he was dreading what Arthur was going to say next.

"She called me Ron and tried to get me to help her get him away from the veil. She looked frightened. I think she was talking about Harry back when they all travelled to the Ministry to save Sirius."

Kingsley turned his head to look at his wife. She didn't look frightened now. In fact, she looked almost... absent. She still hadn't said a word.

He was more than worried now. Hermione had never seemed this absent before during one of her episodes. What could've triggered this now? One so severe she was confused enough to stumble down to the DoM and linger in the Death Chamber.

"Kingsley," Arthur put his hand on his shoulder and Kingsley looked up. "I'm worried. This is progressing far quicker than they told you."

He was right.

"Healer Sloan told me yesterday that he feared her magical genes would accelerate the progression," Kingsley admitted, returning his gaze to Hermione. Her silence made him nervous.

"Even when I led her out of the DoM and she was back here she didn't seem to snap out of it. She should have by now. But she still called me Ron just outside your door. I know you probably don't want this but I think you need to take her home for now and maybe... maybe think about hiring help."

Kingsley wanted to protest but he held his tongue. Looking at his wife, the way she just sat there impassively made his stomach lurch in an uncomfortable way.

"Thank you for taking care of her, Arthur. I appreciate it." He stood up and shook his friend's hand.

"Of course, Kingsley. I'm just worried about her. She's always been family to us."

Kingsley nodded and led Arthur out of his office, telling Lara that he would be out for the remainder of the day.

Then he tried to approach Hermione. He sat down in the other chair next to her and cautiously took her hand. She snapped her eyes to him.

"Kings." She said with a smile.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"You can't just go wandering down to the Death Chamber, Hermione! Do you have any idea what could've happened if Arthur hadn't found you!" He surprised himself with his tone.

Hermione's eyes had widened and she shifted her gaze down, again not saying a word.

He wanted to hit himself. Why was he so inadequate to handle this?

"I'm sorry, luv. I was just worried. How are you doing? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She looked up and cupped his face tenderly. There was a moment they just looked at each other.

"Are you hungry? Do you need more time to finish your paperwork?"

"I... no, I'm done. We can go. What do you want to eat?" He was slightly thrown by her shift in topics.

She thought about it for a moment then a smile spread over her face.

"Can we go to that little Italian place next to the park in Kensington?"

That restaurant held a special place in their hearts because it was where she'd told him about her idea for a school entirely for children under the age of eleven.

"Of course, we can." He turned his head to kiss her palm. "Let's go."

... ... ...

Now

Meredith rose up and sat back down next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sure Mama never blamed you for any of it. She knew how hard it was for you even if she couldn't show it."

Kingsley put his arm around her shoulder and pressed her close to him.

"Thanks, Mer."

"What happened? You never really told us the complete story." Alaric prompted him.

Kingsley sighed and released his daughter from his embrace.

"She got worse and worse. I had to constantly keep an eye on her and it took a toll on my job as Minister. I hired a nurse to help her but even that was difficult because she would get angry. She didn't know her and towards the end, she couldn't be talked down anymore." He looked at his kids.

They both had their gazes fixed on him with sad faces.

"As I said, it was difficult."

"You could get her back in those moments?" Meredith wanted to know.

"Most of the time. It took a while until I learned how to ground her and calm her down."

Alaric leaned forward a little.

"How did you do it?"

Kingsley smiled wistfully.

"In the beginning, it worked fairly well when I called her by the nickname I always used for her and told her a memory of us. But later, when her lucid phases became rarer and rarer and it was more difficult to get her to focus, I started to sing to her… 'You Drive Me Crazy' by Britney Spears." He couldn't help the smile that spread on his face.

... ... ...

Then

"Who are you?"

He stared at her from the chair he was sitting on next to her bed. They were in St. Mungo's, waiting for Healer Sloan to arrive to examine her. Like he did every two weeks.

He was trying to mask the pain the question caused him. She didn't recognize him again. She couldn't... his love didn't remember him. His Hermione didn't know who he was.

It had happened before, but never like this. She had never asked him directly who he was.

"I... I'm your…" he tried to form words, a response but his brain was silent.

"Are we related? Are you married to someone in my family?" She asked, her eyes inquisitive and bright. So familiar and yet so foreign. They didn't recognize him. They didn't show the love she felt for him. They weren't hers. The ones he had looked at every day for the past twelve years.

Her mind, although severely compromised, still worked its magic, trying to find the most sensible answer to her question. She recognized her environment as medical. To her, he was someone she probably knew. Someone who would be allowed to visit her in a hospital. Probably family.

"I'm not married to someone in your family…" he managed. "I am married to you, Hermione. I'm your husband."

He put emphasis into his words. He tried to put everything he felt for her into his eyes, willing her to recognize him. To remember him. To remember all they had been through together. All the pain and hardships during the war and all the beautiful memories they had made after it while they had found each other. Had healed each other.

She didn't show any sign of recognition. Instead, she frowned and looked at him confused.

Her eyes weren't right but all her little tells were there. The way her eyebrows furrowed when she was trying to puzzle out a difficult riddle or mystery. The way her right hand twitched and gripped the sheet tightly. The way the fingers on her other hand drummed patterns on her nails. The almost unnoticeable shift in her back when she sat up straighter or the slight angle she held her head at.

She was still there. She just didn't know him anymore. At all.

"What's your name?" She whispered.

He choked back a sob that came so suddenly he almost couldn't stop it.

"Kingsley... Shacklebolt. You call me Kings." He tried to sound normal, reassuring but he wasn't sure the croak he managed relayed that.

He thought he'd be prepared for this situation but no matter how often the healers had warned him and how many times he had imagined it... it hadn't prepared him for the reality of being confronted with her questions directly.

She stared at him for a few seconds which felt like minutes, almost hours. Then her eyes shifted and he suddenly recognized the look. She was close to tears. Afraid of her own mind.

"What's... my name?" Her face was open. She was scared of the answer.

He was confused by the question. She should know her own name. She should know who she was. The Healer had said she wouldn't lose her own identity... did she forget her own name? Was that even possible? She looked lost. What did she want to hear?

Then it clicked. She wanted to know her last name. As a confirmation?

"You didn't want to give up your parents' name or your non-magical past, so you hyphenated. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Shacklebolt." He gave her a reassuring smile.

She hesitated.

"Right." Her voice didn't sound at all like she understood what he'd told her. Her head slowly moved up and down in a nod, though it was probably not meant for him. She looked lost, still.

He felt lost, too. Lost for words. Lost for ideas. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to be close to her, approach her. Take her into his arms. Hold her close to him. Close to his heart. Promise her everything would be fine. That they would get through this.

He knew that she wouldn't let him. Not like this. Not when she was so unsure of everything around her. When she didn't recognize the one person who had always brought her comfort. Even before they had been a couple.

"I'm in a hospital, right?" She looked around. "Not muggle... St. Mungo's?"

He nodded cautiously.

"I need to go. I have classes. I won't be able to sit my NEWTs if I don't attend. I need to go... can you take me?"

"You're here for an examination, luv. Remember? We can't leave yet. But I promise you we'll leave as soon as we are done."

"No! I can't wait that long! If I don't attend classes I'll fail! I'll never learn everything I need to know. I can not fail!" She became more and more agitated, more desperate.

No matter what he said she didn't calm down. She was in hysterics now. Sobbing.

He threw caution and doubt to the wind and sat down on her bed. He carefully took one of her hands in his. Ignoring her violent flinch at the contact, he started to sing to her. Keeping his voice low and calm. The way he knew she loved. The way she had told him he could always make her feel safe.

"Baby, I'm so into you

You got that something, what can I do?

Baby, you spin me around

The earth is moving, but I can't feel the ground

Every time you look at me

My heart is jumping, it's easy to see"

He felt her tense up at his proximity but he kept singing to her. He knew he probably sounded ridiculous but he didn't care as long as this worked.

"You drive me crazy, I just can't sleep

I'm so excited, I'm in too deep

Whoa oh oh, crazy, but it feels alright

Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night"

She had stopped sobbing and was a little calmer. Her foot was moving with the rhythm.

She slowly joined in the second verse.

"Tell me you're so into me

That I'm the only one you will see

Tell me I'm not in the blue, oh

That I'm not wasting my feelings on you

Every time I look at you

My heart is jumping, what can I do?"

He felt relief wash over him when she picked up the song and relaxed slightly. He let her sing the rest of it by herself, watching her. Memorizing her face.

"You drive me crazy, I just can't sleep

I'm so excited, I'm in too deep

Whoa oh oh, crazy, but it feels alright

Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night

Oh oh crazy"

She was sniffling now and he couldn't help the smile.

"You know, you sound adorable when you do that." He still kept his voice low but tried to make it lighter.

She had hit him every time he'd told her that.

Her head snapped up so fast he was sure she would get whiplash. Her eyes were red from crying but fierce. His heart picked up. She looked like his Hermione.

Her mouth was already open to lash out at him with a scathing remark when she closed it again. She must've seen something in his eyes because hers lost the anger and were replaced by something he couldn't quite place.

The next thing he knew she had used her free hand to hit his shoulder. He could even detect the smallest of smiles around her mouth.

"You are the only person on the planet who thinks snot is cute, Kings." She grumbled but he could detect the humour in it.

He had reached her.

He wanted to cry. She didn't know it but she had just made his heart stop with joy.

They would get through this. She was still his Hermione and he was still her Kings. They would find their way back to each other. He would help her find him again however long it took. They had magic. They would find a way.

Until then... he would remember for the both of them.

She was still his Hermione, somewhere inside.

... ... ...

Now

"That's the song you sang to her?" Alaric looked sceptical.

Kingsley laughed and shrugged.

"She loved that song and it almost always worked."

"You know, I always wondered why you play that song so. very. often. What's the story behind it?" Meredith wondered.

Kingsley smiled teasingly.

"That's a story for another time."

Meredith and Alaric groaned.

"Fine. So, then Uncle Andrew wanted to talk to you, right? About curing mama?" Meredith urged him on.

He nodded.

"Yes, he did."

... ... ...

Then

Lara was waiting for him when he arrived at the Ministry. She was holding a memo from Healer Sloan.

Kingsley had made sure that Hermione was taken care of with her personal nurse at home. She hadn't recognized him as her husband but she'd known he was important to her because she hadn't wanted him to leave. It had taken thirty minutes to calm her down before he could attempt another try to go to work.

Now, Healer Sloan needed to see him urgently. Kingsley wasn't sure how to feel. He honestly didn't want to meet with the man. He couldn't handle more bad news.

But, he thought as he gathered his things, he couldn't handle the Healer giving him hope either. As strange as that might seem, he thought hope would kill him.

Hermione's disease had progressed more rapidly than anyone had predicted. In the span of two years, she had turned from being confused and a little forgetful to requiring around the clock care.

With a heavy sigh, he told Lara he would be back as soon as possible and left for the hospital.

When he arrived Healer Sloan was already waiting for him. He followed the man back to his office, a room where he had spent more time than he was willing to admit. He couldn't stand to see these blank white walls again but he took place in the seat across from the desk anyway. He would just have to speed the Healer along to be able to get out of there as soon as possible.

"We have found it." Healer Sloan started in a confident voice.

"Found what?" Kingsley didn't even raise his eyes to meet the other man's.

"The cure. We are able to cure Alzheimer disease! We are able to cure your wife!"

Kingsley blinked. He fought the feeling in his chest. He fought it with all his might. He couldn't stand another try. He just couldn't. There was nothing they could do. It was just another dead end.

"Is that so?" He replied without enthusiasm. Even to his own ears, it sounded dead.

The Healer seemed to ignore his tone. He seemed to be high on his supposed breakthrough. Good for him.

"Early-onset Alzheimer Disease is different from the other forms. There are mutations in inherited genes, as we know from a direct ancestor like the patient's parents. In your wife's case, it was her mother. These genes cause a build-up of a toxic protein that-…"

"Healer Sloan, I'm sure whatever is running through your head right now is incredibly interesting to people who know their medical stuff. I, on the other hand, need to get back to the Ministry if I want to keep the flimsy hold I still have on my position as Minister. Cut to the point." He sounded even more bitter out loud than in his own head.

The Healer cleared his throat, trying and failing to reign in his enthusiasm.

"We found a way to reverse the process! The muggles call it 'Gene Therapy' but we adjusted it to our needs and we are now able to change the mutations in the genes. We can get your wife's memories back by rebuilding the brain mass that was lost during the progression of the disease. Possibly even reversing the damage the mutated genes have made altogether by manipulating them. The medical records your wife provided were incredibly helpful. There's even a chance we can adapt the process to muggles!" Sloan sounded breathless.

Kingsley had looked up during the Healer's explanation and he could see it again. The conviction all the others they had asked for help had in their eyes. He couldn't stand it any longer.

He stood up abruptly.

"I have to return to the Ministry, Healer Sloan. I don't wish to hear any more nonsense about this. Her disease is already unbelievably hard without fabricated solutions and make-believe healing. Good day."

"Mr Shacklebolt, wait!" Healer Sloan called, standing up, too. "I assure you, this will work."

Kingsley just felt numb standing halfway between his chair and the door.

"It's Minister." He responded pettily.

"Right, of course, Minister. Forgive me, but I know you have tried many things. I'm telling you, there is hope in this new treatment. We have-…"

"Can you name the most severe symptom of a terminal illness?", Kingsley interrupted him, turning sharp eyes on the Healer. He was sick of this.

"Minister Shacklebolt, this is not a terminal disease, you do realize that?"

"Of course, it is." He spat. "She's leaving. Not physically, but she'll be gone completely very soon. Her brain, her beautiful brain is betraying her, forgetting and confusing things and she's unable to take care of herself anymore. Pretty soon she will be wishing she was dead, if she doesn't already. Because, let's face it, for someone like Hermione Granger to lose her brain function? The thing that has defined her whole life? The thing that helped her defeat one of the darkest wizards ever? The thing that helped her through it all and to find something good in all that bad? The thing that made her one of the most sought after witches in our time?" He took a breath, then continued. "Losing that will kill her. So, I ask you again. Can you name the single most malignant symptom of a terminal illness?"

"I... I don't…"

"It's hope. It's recurrent and it keeps creeping back in no matter how many times it gets ripped apart. The Calderón Medical Center in the States gave us hope with a clinical trial but that didn't work on her. The hospital in Spain was convinced that their new development in treating memory loss would help her regain hers. It didn't. China had high hopes that they had stumbled upon the reason for the Alzheimer's disease and could cure it. That was an excruciating no go. Every time the hope goes it takes chunks of you with it. Until you can only find comfort in the one thing that you know you can count on. That this thing is going to kill her. So you can keep your hope to yourself before I tell you where to stick it."

"Minister! Please, listen to-"

He ignored the Healer and stalked out of the office and down the hallway not really caring where he went. Just moving. He needed to move.

He didn't want to think. But his mind betrayed him. He recounted what Sloan had told him. Every word. Every detail. Everything.

There were two words he desperately tried to avoid thinking. But of course, he couldn't. Because the damn hope had crept back in. No matter how hard he tried to squash it. There was always a sliver of hope that managed to take hold.

What if?

His head was ready to explode. Filled with all the possibilities Healer Sloan had presented him with if this new treatment... if it worked. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to make all the decisions. He just wanted it to stop. He was tired and in pain.

He would usually seek refuge with Hermione but the more time he spent with her, the more his entire body seemed to hurt. As if he was absorbing all the blame and hurt and desperation from her and piled it onto his own. He didn't know how long he would be able to endure this. He didn't know how long she could.

There was a feeling he had, and he was sure he was right, that deep down his Hermione was still there and she was still aware of what was happening to her. He was sure if she could she would beg him to end it. It was torture. For him. For her. For their friends. For everyone.

But the more he stayed away the heavier his heart felt. It filled with guilt and hate, for not trying to be close to her as much as possible.

He always came back though. He did try to spend as much time as he could with her. It was just... there was not a single word meaningful enough to describe it.

He wanted it to stop.

He had stopped moving and was standing in an empty hallway with a few chairs pushed to the wall. The fact that there even was an empty hallway in a hospital like St Mungo's was weirdly funny to him. He sat down with his head in his hands.

So many people. Healers, nurses, patients, relatives, clerks, volunteers, even Ministry workers like Aurors and witches and wizards from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. So many people and he had stumbled upon the possibly only place in the whole hospital without any of them around.

He let out a laugh. It sounded hollow and was followed by another. And another until he was in the middle of a laughing fit desperately trying to catch his breath again.

He couldn't make sense of anything anymore. His head was filled with what-ifs and his heart was trying to handle too much pain and emotion. He felt like he was being pulled in too many directions.

... ... ...

Now

"I didn't believe him. We had tried so many things and nothing seemed to work. On the contrary, she seemed to get worse after each treatment... so, I gave up hope. Something I'd promised her I wouldn't do."

"It's okay, Dad," Alaric told him. "We get it. I honestly don't know if I would've been able to keep fighting."

Meredith snorted.

"Please Buzzy, you're a Gryffindor. Your whole nature is about fighting for the right thing. You wouldn't be able to stop even if the world was about to go down in flames."

"Well, you would know. You're a Ravenclaw, if you couldn't find a solution that'd be the reason the world would go down in flames. And don't call me Buzzy!"

Meredith had started to call her brother names possibly from the moment he could crawl. Buzzy was the one he always hated the most.

Kingsley kept it to himself that he thought it fit quite well. His son was always buzzing around.

"See, this is the difference between us. I give you an underhanded compliment wrapped in an insult and you just insult me." Meredith turned up her nose.

"Ah, but sis, this is a compliment." He made a playful but rude gesture with his fingers.

"Mama would've cut off your fingers."

"But Mum isn't here."

"Guys, that's enough," Kingsley interjected before it could get ugly.

"Sorry." Both his kids mumbled.

He shook his head. No matter how old they got, he still knew how to make them feel guilty.

"You want to hear what happened next?"

They both nodded, throwing each other a dirty look in the process. He waited until he had their attention again before continuing.

"Harry found me and managed to talk some sense into me."

... ... ...

Then

"Kingsley?"

The voice calling his name ripped him out of his thoughts and he looked up, focusing on the wizard standing in front of him.

"Harry?" His voice sounded hoarse. He cleared it once to get it back to normal. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Ministry?"

"I brought in a colleague. He was hit with a nasty dark curse but should be fine. I could ask you the same by the way, but I met Healer Sloan on my way back and he told me what happened." Harry paused and Kingsley knew he was gearing up for a lecture he didn't want to hear. "You get another treatment option for Hermione and don't even care about it? Not to mention the fact that you flat out refused it? Don't you want her to get better? What is wrong with you, Kingsley?!"

Harry's voice had gained volume throughout his speech. Kingsley wanted to be outraged or mad and yell back, telling that little boy who had no right to talk to him like that what he really thought. He didn't know how hard it was. He wasn't there every day to see it.

But all he could manage was a weary look.

"Don't you understand?" He hung his head again, his voice barely audible. "I can't take another disappointment. In the last two years, we've tried every imaginable therapy. Nothing ever worked. She's gotten worse and worse. I just... I can't take another loss. It's just too hard."

Harry's eyes lost the anger in them and he gripped Kingsley's shoulder in solidarity. He kept his eyes focused on the pattern on the floor.

"I know. I know you've tried everything so far. I know how hard it is for us to watch her lose more and more of herself. I can't imagine how it must be for you. But if there is even the slightest chance that we can help her, we owe it to her to try it. You're wasting a chance, Kingsley and I'm not sure you'd be able to forgive yourself if you didn't try. You don't give up. She would hex you with all her considerable skill if she knew you'd given up."

Kingsley flinched at that last comment. He knew it, deep down. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't give up.

She wouldn't tell him to stop, she wouldn't give up. She would tell him to fight.

He had promised her to get through this with her. To remember for the both of them, no matter how long it took. He couldn't give up. He wouldn't.

He rose from his chair, straightened his shoulders and met the eyes of the younger wizard again.

"You're right, Harry. Thank you. I'll talk to Healer Sloan right now to get started."

Harry nodded and stared after Kingsley as the Minister for Magic walked away to fight for his wife and their happiness once more.

... ... ...

Now

"Uncle Harry? Seriously? He's never given anyone good advice. He's stubborn and not the most perceptive of people." Meredith scoffed.

"He saved the Wizarding World from Voldemort and he was a successful Auror for many years!" Alaric defended his godfather.

Meredith turned her sharp eyes on her brother. She loved Harry but she was very opinionated about his earlier life which she never failed to remind The-Boy-Who-Lived about. It was usually very entertaining.

"And without Mama, he would've died in his first year, or his second, or his third, or on the run, or I don't know while he was eating ice cream. He's a magnet for bad luck and trouble and he's not an Auror anymore. He's a teacher, our teacher."

"You know, for a Ravenclaw, you have very little respect for your teacher."

"Shut it, Buzzy. I respect him very much. I just don't hero worship him as you do."

Alaric looked offended.

"I don't-…"

"Guys!" Kingsley said a little more forcefully this time. They glared at each other but stayed silent.

"Yes, Harry talked some sense into me." Kingsley continued quickly. "He could always inspire people, I think he's even gotten better at it the past few years, wouldn't you agree." He nudged his daughter, who nodded begrudgingly.

"So you changed your mind and kept fighting and this time the cure Uncle Andrew found actually worked." Alaric prompted him.

"It did. He managed to produce a miracle and stop the disease from progressing further. However, it took a while for your mother's brain to recover and as you know many of her memories never returned."

Meredith and Alaric stayed silent, knowing that there were a lot of memories about their Dad and her own life in general that their mother had never remembered again.

"But…" Kingsley started with a small smile. "We made new memories and expanded our little family."

"Speaking of... where's Sissy?" Meredith started.

"You shouldn't call her that, Mer," Kingsley admonished half-heartedly.

"Why? It fits. She's always crying... and she's nine years old. I didn't cry that much even when I was younger than her." She shrugged. "Besides, Ric's nickname for her is way worse."

Kingsley frowned. He didn't know that.

"Ric?"

His boy blushed slightly but held his head high.

"I don't think it's that bad... she's just a little pussy."

"Alaric Tobias Granger-Shacklebolt! You will not call your sister that name!"

Meredith, Alaric and Kingsley all winced at the shrill voice they knew too well, coming from the doorway.

Hermione Granger-Shacklebolt was standing there with her wild hair in disarray and a disapproving look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Alaric mumbled, now truly pink in the face while Meredith tried to control her sniggering.

Their mother was gripping their younger sister's hand tightly in her own. Sadie was very small for her age. She was crying and trying to hide her face behind Hermione.

Kingsley rose up from the couch and approached his wife.

"Hey, luv." He murmured and kissed her on her cheek.

Hermione smiled.

"How was it?" He asked throwing a worried glance to his youngest.

"It was fine. She's crying because she didn't want to leave. She'll be okay."

"Definitely a Hufflepuff." Alaric, who had moved to sit beside Meredith, murmured, which prompted her to raise an eyebrow.

"What was that?" Hermione asked them from the doorway.

"Nothing." They both said simultaneously while Kingsley tried to keep his face in check.

"Or maybe a Slytherin - look at her," Meredith whispered.

They both looked closer to their little sister. She was crying, there were definitely tears running down her cheeks. But her face. She was... smirking.

"She's brilliant," Alaric said in a low voice.

"I know. And already pretty ruthless. She gets Mama and Daddy to do anything for her." They shared a look.

"Whoever gets her on their side in an argument can't lose," Alaric told her quietly with a grin.

"You're on." Meredith hissed back smirking.

"What are you guys whispering about there?" Their mother interrupted them.

She had handed Sadie off to Kingsley who was trying to distract the little girl.

"Nothing." They both said again simultaneously. "Welcome back, Mama."

"I wasn't gone that long." She laughed. "But thank you."

She leaned down and gave them both a kiss on their cheeks.

"What did you guys do, today?" She walked around the couch and sat down beside them.

"Dad told us about the time you were ill," Alaric answered.

"I thought you guys knew everything about that, already. " Hermione frowned.

"Not exactly. We pieced things together from what people told us but neither of you actually explained what happened. So, there were a lot of details missing. We ambushed Daddy today and made him tell us everything." Meredith grinned.

"So I take it you guys are okay?" Hermione wanted to know while looking at them closely, trying to see any distress it might have caused them.

"We're fine, Mama. We're just glad you're here." Meredith hugged her tightly.

"Me, too." Hermione smiled while Alaric joined in the hug.

Kingsley had succeeded in calming Sadie down and joined them on the sofa. It was a tight fit, even with her on his lap.

"I think we should look into expanding this couch or buying a bigger one " Hermione announced.

They all nodded.

"Hey, Mum?"

Hermione turned to Alaric.

"One thing I really don't get about this whole illness thing…" He started.

"Oh? What is it?" She asked him carefully.

He flicked his eyes to his father's then back to her.

"Britney Spears?"

Kingsley looked up to share a secret smile with Hermione. He leant back into the couch, inclining his head to give her the floor.

He felt the warmth in his chest grow fit to burst as he basked in the happiness of their family.