"Oh, calm down, Ron, I did a misdirection and a glamour on both of us, you're over-reacting,"
Ron deflated slightly.
"You did?"
"Yes," Hermione patted him on the arm, "It's fine. We're fine. Also, we brought you back some pastry,"
"Oh. Thank you." The bag was pleasingly heavy.
"You're sure you weren't recognised?"
"No-one recognised us," Harry said firmly, "It's absolutely fine. You might want to grab some plates and let the others know. It's not all for you,"
"Oh… right…"
Ron felt quite peculiar now that the high stress of waking up to find Harry and Hermione waltzing cavalierly in from muggle Paris without so much as a false beard between them had passed. He felt shaken and light headed, and sort of gut-sick with confused anxiety and relief. The horrible, horrible moment when he'd found her body on the stone floor at Hogwarts had all come rushing back. I'm really not going to cope if she gets herself killed, memory or no memory, he confessed to himself as he swallowed hard against the nausea. He tried to ignore the guilty feeling that was seeping in around the edges, that feeling about Fred, about the fact that Fred was gone, but he was ok, that Fred was gone, but he was still obsessing over his best friend…
He put the pastries down on the table in the little studio apartment he was sharing with Harry and went to find the others.
Harry sat down at the table and considered Hermione. She had a defiant look about her. Suspicious.
"Hermione,"
"Hmmm?" She raised all-too-innocent eyebrows at him.
"You didn't cast."
"I don't know what you're talking about,"
Harry pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I don't think anyone recognised us, but you didn't do any magic out there other than apparate off the balcony."
"Oh, well… he was in a flap. It's fine, no-one cares really."
Harry gazed at her. She was fetching plates from the kitchenette. They were clinking.
"Two things," he said finally, "I should have been the one to disguise us. You've always done way more than your share of the work, and I guess I just... I've been famous since- well. I have my memories and I've been hounded by the press, so I should've been on to that. Sorry. Second. Lying to Ron?"
She pushed her hair over her shoulder irritably, and started neatening up the boring table decorations, and rearranging the salt and pepper shakers.
"Don't make a fuss,"
"Hermione?"
"I should have realised!" she snapped, "We came to Paris because of this apparent notoriety. I just didn't think. I can't believe I didn't think of it. I'm so stupid!"
"Don't be daft," said Harry, "It was an oversight, and I'm more to blame than you are anyway. Besides, I think the paranoia is out of hand. I'm almost certain no-one recognised us."
Hermione began straightening sofa cushions aggressively.
"It's the principle of the thing,"
Harry frowned.
"Ooh," he said, as it clicked into place, "Ooh, oh dear."
Hermione stopped what she was doing and cast him a disbelieving look. Harry felt a tiny bit smug.
"You think people won't like you if you're not smart,"
She stiffened.
"Don't be ridiculous,"
Harry found he was grinning in what he assumed was an extremely annoying way.
"More specifically, you think Ron won't like you if you're not smart,"
Hermione flushed scarlet and let out a string of creative invective with no particular target.
"Yeah, truth hurts."
"Oh, shut up."
Harry regarded her thoughtfully for a moment.
"Has he told you about the troll?"
She rolled her eyes.
"The fabulous tale of how the two of you rescued me from a mountain troll? Yeah, we've been over it."
Harry chuckled.
"No, not that part."
She frowned at him.
"You lied to get us out of trouble. That's what won him over. Not your giant brain."
"You just told me off for lying,"
"Yeah, well, this was different."
"How so?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"It was the right thing to do?"
"And stopping Ron from going into a tailspin of totally unnecessary panic was wrong?"
"Ah, where's Ginny when you need her? She's good at explaining."
"Well, I believe you got in a snit and dumped her so she's gone off to wreak havoc with George."
Harry spluttered.
"You got mean when you lost your memory,"
"Yeah well, what else is new?"
Harry took a breath and tried not to be pissed off.
"Look-"
"Oh, don't lecture me in that self-important way-"
"I'm not-"
"Right-"
"Hermione-"
"Whatever, hero boy-"
"Good morn- whoah," Charlie stepped into the room and back out again in one jerky movement.
"They arguing again?" Ron peered over Charlie's shoulder, "I thought you guys made up?"
Hermione glared. Harry shrugged and went into the little kitchenette to fetch plates.
"I hate to sound insecure," Ron said lightly, "But if you keep fighting with Harry I'm going to think you fancy him."
Hermione burst into tears and vanished with a pop.
Everyone stared at the empty space.
"Harry…?"
Harry swallowed.
"Um. Yeah, so no-one recognised us… but we kinda forgot to… disguise ourselves…" he winced, waiting for the fallout.
Ron just blinked at him.
"You what?"
"My fault," said Harry hastily. The thought that he was taking all the blame again for something he was only partly responsible for flitted through his head. "Well, partly my fault. More my fault than hers. We, um. We forgot."
Silence.
"You forgot that we came to Paris expressly to hide your famous selves?" said Charlie, picking up an almond croissant and taking a dragonish bite, "How the heck did you survive out there for a whole year?"
Ron was frowning.
"So… you were arguing about whether to mention it? Damn, I can't think straight before breakfast." He picked up a kind of pastry-custard concoction.
Harry waited. Ron put the whole pastry in his mouth and sat down at the table.
"You're… not mad?"
Ron glanced up at him.
"No, I'm mad," he said through a goopy mouthful, "I'm also hungry, and I can't be bothered yelling at you. You know it's bad."
Charlie sat down and got himself a plate.
"And mum thought dragon training was a dangerous career choice," he said, "You guys are nuts."
Harry felt a jumble of feelings fighting for dominance. The bliss of apricot pastry seemed a long time ago.
"Are the others coming?"
"Yup," said Ron, inspecting another pastry, "If we're going to be attacked we all need breakfast first." He sighed, "That was really bloody stupid, Harry,"
Harry felt part of him shrivel up in misery.
"I know."
"Right, so here's the thing. You've been all distracted and bent out of shape lately, but you just had breakfast with her: making allowances for the obliviation, do you think she's real?"
Harry frowned.
"What are you saying?"
Ron swallowed.
"This Hermione is… not the same. I really want her to be our Hermione, the real one, but… well, I'm too biased. I really want her to be real, 'specially seeings as she fancies me, but I can't shake the suspicion that maybe there's some really clever magic at work. And she just led you undisguised into muggle Paris, while you were too distracted to notice…"
Silence again.
"You think she's a fake?" Charlie was looking interested now, not just amused.
"I badly want her not to be fake," said Ron seriously, "So I can't trust my own judgment. Whether she's different because she's been obliviated, or she's different because she was never Hermione in the first place, I don't know, and I don't trust myself to guess."
Charlie leaned back in his chair and whistled.
"You guys are nuts."
The idea that Hermione might not actually be Hermione was… confusing. Harry felt a rush of relief, quickly followed by confusion. If she wasn't the real deal, then her dislike of him was irrelevant… but it also meant everything in the café was meaningless… Could a stranger decode feelings he couldn't articulate himself, and make him feel better with lists of nonsense?
Ron was gazing at him anxiously, and Harry felt the weight of that expectation.
"I don't know," he said finally, "I really want it to be her too. She's like a sister,"
Charlie's eyebrow quirked up, and he pulled a face as he took another bite of pastry, not realising they were looking at him.
"What's that face for?" Ron demanded.
Charlie glanced from one to the other and cleared his throat.
"Ah, look." He pointed to Ron, "You fancy her, there's chemistry there, you were never just friends. But you," He pointed to Harry, "Never thought about her like that for a second, did you?"
"No," said Harry blankly
"Yeah, see you think that because you don't fancy her, she's like a sister, but actually, she's not like a sister, she's a friend." He took in their blank looks and sighed. "Ok, so forget sister for a second. Think about Percy. He's my sibling right? And you know, love him n'all, but I can't handle being in the same room with him for more than ten minutes, and I fundamentally disagree with like, most of his ideas and the majority of his life decisions, and I'm pretty sure he feels that way about me. Like, if he was in trouble, I'd do what I could to help, and he'd do the same for me, but sweet mother of Merlin, I do not enjoy having coffee with his pious highness. Not a bad bloke, but we just don't get on. If I met someone like him just randomly, out in the world, there is almost no chance we'd ever get past small talk, much less deliberately hang out. Hermione's not like a sister; she's not someone you feel an emotional tie to regardless of whether you get on or not. She's a friend. See what I'm saying?"
Harry frowned.
"Maybe…"
Ron was gaping at Charlie.
"That's more words than I've ever heard you say in one go. Where'd you get all that from?"
Charlie cleared his throat again, ears pink, and Harry suddenly saw a strong resemblance to Ron in his discomfort.
"Went on a few dates with a muggle gender studies student."
Ron blinked.
"And?"
Charlie looked even more uncomfortable.
"And nothing. She talked a lot. It was interesting." He grinned suddenly and waggled his eyebrows, blocky confidence taking over again, "No chemistry, but she did give an interesting lecture."
"Right," said Ron, sceptically, "So Harry doesn't fancy Hermione, and she's not like a sister. How does this help?"
Charlie shrugged.
"Good to clarify things sometimes. Whatcha gonna do about blowing your cover?"
Harry sat down. They had two major problems, as far as he could see, the first being the blown cover, and the second being Hermione's whereabouts. A plan started to formulate in his head, a first step, a course of action. He opened his mouth- and closed it again.
"I don't think it's that time sensitive… I really don't think we were recognised and all our known enemies are being hunted themselves at the moment. What if we wait until everyone gets here," he said, "And, and brainstorm…"
Ron stared at him.
"They got to you didn't they, those girls. You sure you're the real Harry Potter?"
Harry rolled his eyes.
"I can't win, can I?"
"Nup," said Ron grinning, "Go back to being mad and sulky, I'm used to it,"
Harry helped himself to a croissant.