Caramel Frappuccino?

Author's Note: Here's the next chapter and this is a longer chapter, for readers out there. I humbly ask for your reviews, mates. Pretty please?

Disclaimer: The Queen owns everything. Sadly. However, we rejoice for she has shared it with us.


Chapter 2: Who Am I?

That was a few months ago. Hermione Granger went home with her parents having regained some basic memories regarding her life. However, she knows that there's still a big part of it that's missing. Her parents simply say, "You'll remember, Hermione. You remembered us, we're sure you will keep on improving." She wants to believe them, but somehow she feels incomplete now more than ever. Also, she doesn't remember some bits of her own personal life.

Once when she went shopping with her mother, she spent almost an hour wondering what her favorite color was until her mother noticed her dilemma and pointed out that her favorite color is actually red. She felt depressed about it for days after the incident.

"When I woke up in the hospital all I could ask was 'who are you?'. Now I ask myself, 'who am I?'. It's terrible, I don't even know myself." Hermione muttered, getting out of bed.

"'Mione, we're heading to the clinic. Are you sure you'll be alright?" Her father said, peeking at her door.

"Yes, dad. Don't worry about me like I'm an 8 year old."

"Hermione, we're only worried because you're still recovering. You know if we weren't worried we wouldn't be acting this way."

"Yeah, well, whatever happened to 'You're a strong young woman, Hermione. You can get over this.'?"

Her father sighed. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Your mom and I just care about you. We wouldn't want you getting hurt again."

Hermione chose not to answer that. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, thoughts rushing through her mind. "Dad?"

"Yes, 'Mione?"

"Can I go out today?"

"By yourself? I…"

"I need to do this, dad. I can do it. I'll keep myself safe, I promise. Please? I'll just be going over to the café by the corner. No farther."

Mr. Granger nodded. "Okay. I'll go tell your mother. She won't let you go so easily, but I'll handle her. Here's your money. I'll hold on to your promise that you will keep yourself safe, okay?"

"Okay daddy. Thank you so much."

Her father came over and gave her a kiss on her forehead and Hermione hugged him in return. "Let's go talk to your mother."


It took much persuasion, but Hermione finally convinced her mother to let her go to the café. Frowning, she looked at the menu. As usual in such situations since "the accident", she had no idea what she was supposed to favor. Hermione didn't look up from her menu even when the door's bells jangled to announce people coming and going.

"Miss, do you have your order yet?" A helpful waitress wandered over to her table.

"No, not yet. I'm sorry. I'm kind of having a bit of a hard time deciding."

"It's alright, miss. Just call me when you have an order." The waitress smiled and walked back over to the counter.

Jingle of bells by the café door.

Hermione was seated just a table away from the door, so she wasn't all surprised when the person she supposed to be to newcomer passed by her table. What puzzled her, however, was when the figure turned abruptly as it walked by her table and left. Only then did Hermione put down her menu to look at how the person looked like, curious with the sudden leave.

Flaxen hair? Hermione shrugged it off and was about to give up in giving an order before she noticed a slip of paper across her on her table. Hermione frowned. She was certain it wasn't there earlier.

'Caramel Frappuccino' It read in an elegant script.

Hermione's heart thumped in her chest. "Caramel Frappuccino?" She whispered in disbelief. "But… I guess it wouldn't hurt to try." Hermione told herself as she waved the waitress over. "I'd like a caramel frappuccino, please."

"Excellent choice, miss. Anything else you'd like to add?"

Hermione thought about a slice of cake but just the idea of how much sugar it contains and how her parents would react when they find out she's eaten some put it off her mind. "No." she smiled. "Dentist's kid, I'm really not so used to eating sweets." She explained sheepishly.

The waitress smiled sympathetically. "I understand. I'll be right back with your order in a few minutes."

While she waited for the waitress to come back, Hermione studied the paper closely. It was handwritten. But she had second thoughts on that because it looked so perfect. What human being could have such handwriting? And such fine letters couldn't possibly be written with a pen. Or could it? Other than that, and the fact that it appeared out of nowhere, Hermione found nothing else out of the ordinary with it. She sighed. "Great, another puzzle unsolved." She muttered, slipping the paper in her handbag.

Within a few moments, the waitress came by with the subject of Hermione's thoughts. Well, not exactly the caramel frappuccino itself, of course. "Thanks." She gave a relieved smile to the waitress who smiled politely in return.

As Hermione took a sip from her glass, the sweet blend of caramel and cream with a light touch of coffee burst in her mouth and she looked at it with eyes full of wonder. She felt as if she had been reunited with something she hasn't experienced in a long time. And maybe she was right. Maybe she's been to this café before and maybe, just maybe, her favorite drink here was a caramel frappuccino. If that was the case, then the mystery of the slip of paper inside her bag only grew. It told her of a fragment of her past. The important question is, who?

Her thoughts were interrupted when once again the bells rang to signal that people have either arrived or left.

The stranger?

Two boys bounded over to where Hermione was seated. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. It was explained to her that these two were supposedly her friends. Hermione believed it, but she couldn't help but notice that whenever they were with her, Harry seemed to always be carefully watching what he says around her and also covers up strange things Ron blabber about.

Harry had this lightning shaped scar on his forehead which he explained was from the car accident that killed his parents when he was a kid. Hermione can't tell why, but she thought that story was bogus. Not that she's ever told Harry though. He and Ron were just about the only close friends Hermione was aware she had. She didn't want to lose them as well.

"Hey, you two. What are you doing here?" Hermione greeted them.

"I'm sure you don't really want us here, Hermione, but your mom was worried sick about you being alone so she sent us here. Don't be mad at her though." Harry explained.

She nodded. "No, I understand and I guess it's alright. I think I definitely need some people to keep me from floating in my own mind searching for answers to my bloody questions."

Harry and Ron sat down across her. The waitress from earlier walked over again. "I'll have a macchiato please." Harry said, looking at Ron expectantly for his order.

"What he said." Ron said, looking a bit lost. When the waitress had left he looked at his two companions and asked, "Blimey, what the 'ell is that? Some kind of fairy tale creature?" he managed to make Hermione laugh, but he got elbowed by Harry behind the table. "Say, what's that you're having Hermione?" he asked, trying to shift the topic.

Hermione's eyes wandered over to her drink. "A caramel frappuccino." She replied, remembering the earlier incident and wondering whether she should tell the two boys seated across her about it. She decided against it and simply drummed her fingers on the table.

"How are you?" Harry asked, the mood suddenly different.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm fine. Though no new concrete memories, if that's what you're asking."

Ron reached over the table and held her hand with his. "Well, no matter what happens, we'll face it together, okay?"

Hermione smiled and felt herself tearing up when Harry's hand joined theirs on top of the table. She nodded. "Thanks, you two." They grinned.


Later that day after Harry and Ron have escorted Hermione back home, Ron noticed his best friend looking troubled. "Anything wrong. mate?"

"Ron, do you remember Hermione ever telling us she hated frappuccino? That any caffeinated drink would do. A cappuccino or even a frappe. But a frappuccino, never? " Harry asked.

Ron looked bewildered for a moment before recognition dawned on his face. "Oh. You know I'm not familiar with those muggle concoctions you drink. But now that you mentioned it, I think I do remember her saying that she'd rather drink firewhiskey and get drunk than drink that. I thought she was exaggerating her hatred for that muggle drink at that time… But of course we couldn't tell her that bit about firewhiskey right now. Her parents said we should let her remember things at her own rate and as of the moment, anything related to the Wizarding world would get her asking and finding out about it again at this time might be too much for her to handle. But why did you ask?"

"Because she was drinking it at that café earlier when we found her. And she didn't seem to be hating it at all."

"Aw, c'mon mate. Maybe it's nothing. It seems a little shallow for us to worry about, don't you thik?" Ron said, preparing himself to apparate back to The Burrow.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, maybe you're right."