_ The Day You Lost Me _

CHAPTER 3

"Maybe One Day You'll Be You Again"

It was only natural for the three of them to make a mad dash for Room 102.

Harry led the way with Ron coming second and Luna falling to third. He was determined to reach Hermione and tell her…tell her everything. Tell her he was sorry, and that he was wrong. Tell her that he never wanted to see her leave again, and that he was a prick.

He needed to see that she was all right, and smiling. That she was happy. He'd always wondered if she was happy, or if she matched his worry, anxiety and pain. He'd always wondered if she was exactly where she wanted to be in life…since he couldn't imagine her any other way. He didn't want to believe that anything bad could ever happen to her – because she was Hermione. She was strong, brave and intelligent beyond all things. There was no way she could fall to pieces.

The lights of St. Mungo's burned his eyes as they intensified by bouncing off the white walls. Everything seemed to have been bleached and it gave him a sickly feeling. His insides were turning about, which was saying something seeing as how he hadn't stomached a meal all day. His previous hangover was an echo in his mind, threatening him with a sequel. And there was an ache where he supposed his heart, if not just his chest, was. An ache he just couldn't shake off.

His heart was beating loudly in his ears and it felt as though he were flying. He wasn't running as though he was in a dream - which, according to many books and movies of fiction told him would happen in a situation like this, and he wasn't falling over, like he'd expected himself to in his worst nightmares. He was moving forward like he was on a broom; like he was searching for something he had to find – like he was a searching for the golden snitch. He would have snorted at his own profound imagination, but there were more important things at hand.

The final corner lay just before him and he swerved around it with perfect momentum before coming to a direct halt. He was like a car that had been going over the speed limit for the past few hours and had suddenly jerked to a stop. If he had been in such a car he'd probably have flown through the window by now, with or without a seatbelt. But Harry didn't know how to drive – he'd never taken the trouble – so he wouldn't know. He could have kicked himself again for all the useless thoughts running through his head and clouding up with the one most important thing: Hermione.

The ache that had been in his chest moments ago was now climbing up his throat. He could hear two women talking, and saw the sign above the door at the other end of the hallway – Room 102, painted in black. The contrast was really beginning to get to his eyes.

And she was there.

She'd just stepped out of the room, her hair framing her face. It was curled almost to perfection, and he couldn't help but think that she looked like a porcelain doll. The prefect, perfect, grade-obsessed Hermione was all gone. That must've been what struck him. Right? Or was it the fact that she'd truly grown into such a beautiful woman that his jaw would've dropped if his mouth hadn't been sealed shut by its own dryness?

His best friend, his Hermione, who used to have bushy hair that flowed around like she'd been electrocuted, who used to look plain and simple…was just…breathtaking. The way she held herself, no longer carrying books, bags, quills…not even a beaded purse like on their last adventure; the way she'd turned into such a sophisticated lady; the way she gave off a tired smile without looking like she'd lost hours of sleep working on an essay. The way that same smile sent shivers down his back. The way her eyes…her eyes. Her eyes showed the pain. The fear. The…insecurity? He'd never seen that before in her. Maybe that was what shook him. Yeah?

Hermione was always sure. A know-it-all, but his know-it-all, and now she looked like a lost little lamb that was afraid to be devoured. She'd lost the glint. The spark. The adventure, the courage. She looked so…vulnerable. The Gryffindor lion had become a glass doll.

And just as he was about to wonder what had caused such a change in the person she was, why she looked so pained as though a million thoughts were racing through her mind…like...like...like everything in the world was just so wrong, she spoke.

"Next week, same time?"

And his heart sank.

Four years he'd had her voice in his head, echoing. Just a memory forever on repeat telling him things he'd heard before. And now, he could hear her voice again…more mature, more wise. Experiences, wisdom and all that crap.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Do take care of yourself. No magic."

"No magic," Hermione said, her hopeful tone losing all bounce. She sounded so restrained. "No magic," she said, repeating it like a depressing mantra.

"Hermione." Harry was almost just as shocked as she was by how her name had come out of his mouth. How it'd been his voice, which, this time, sent the same shiver down a different spine.

She turned and he could have sworn that time itself stopped the moment their eyes met.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Harry…"

Oh my goodness…he'd…he'd grown up. He wasn't an awkward teenager, or an awkward hero. He looked like more than what she'd expected, and she'd had a picture of him in her mind from all the newspapers. He was a grown man. She almost smiled at the fact that the only thing in him that seemed to have not grown up was his hair…it still stuck up in the same places, and was still messy. His eyes had a fire in them, the young, naïve bright green having darkened through the years.

Her gaze dropped, however, as another figure came almost instantly into view. He had flaming red hair. He had blue eyes. And just like Harry, he too had become a grown man.

"Ron," she mouthed, her voice having died away after saying Harry's name.

A third figure came, this time with blonde hair falling to her thin waist. Her eyes looked dreamily concerned – if such a thing was possible. Then again, given who it was – Hermione would have bet all her money, the galleons, dollars and pounds, that it was.

"Luna."

She gave a last glance towards her Healer, who'd poked her head out to check on the commotion, before taking a few steps backwards and breaking into a run.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Hermione!" Harry called out. Every nerve in his body ordered him to run after her, but his brain seemed to have lost the connection to said nerves. A door before Room 102 swung open, and two healers came out, lifting a bed sideways. One healer rushed to the front, pushing the door across the hallway open. "Hermione!" Harry called out again, his view blocked by the bed.

"So sorry, Mister Weasley, Mister Potter and Miss Lovegood –" piped one of the healers, before Harry crouched without a second thought and made his way to the other side, not listening. He rushed after Hermione, turning around the next corner to see her enter one of the elevators.

Their eyes met once again – pain to pain. Hurt to hurt. Ache to ache. Hermione reached forward to the button inside the elevator and the doors began to slide shut. Harry broke into a run a little too late, coming to the elevator just as it closed and he saw the first tear roll down her cheek.

"Hermione!" he yelled, slamming his hand against the elevator, and abusing the button on the side, the one that would make the elevator come up again.

To no avail, and with his blood was now running past his ears like a waterfall, he turned, taking the stairs instead. He jumped them two at a time, sometimes three or four. He busied himself by looking down, making sure he wouldn't trip. He was running for his life. He had to reach the bottom floor at the same time that she did. He had to stop her from running away. Again. He burst through the doors, a flood of healers, patient and visitors obscuring his view. He couldn't see her, her brown hair or her black dress whatsoever. He was quite aware that he was turning around almost wildly, earning him a few concerned glances from people…who after realizing who he was had trouble looking away. He ran outside of St. Mungo's, and gazed at the streets. He couldn't see her anywhere.

She was gone.

Again.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Hermione!" Becky said, as Hermione swung the door open and entered the quaint coffee shop with fresh tears springing from her eyes. The waitress behind the counter began to edge forward, her notepad in her hand, just as Hermione dropped most unceremoniously across Becky at their booth.

Hermione smiled slightly, sniffing as she wiped the back of her hand against her cheeks.

"What happened?" Becky asked.

"They were there," Hermione said, trying to sound happy. She wiped at her eyes, more tears falling. "Harry…Ron…and Luna. And, dammit, Becky…"

"Honey, why'd you run? You've wanted to talk to them since…"

"Since forever, I know," Hermione said, her teeth chattering slightly.

"What can I get you?" the waitress asked, her eyes on her notepad, not looking at either of her customers.

"Do you have some kind of ice cream?" Becky asked, peering at the waitress.

"We have vanilla, chocolate or strawberry."

"Strawberry. Can I get it to go?"

"You can get it on a cone."

"Will do," Becky said.

"And you?" The waitress turned to Hermione, who'd wiped away her tears by then. Her eyes were still red and puffy, and her face pink.

"Coffee. To go."

"Okay," the waitress said dismissively, turning on her heel and marching back to the counter. Once she was gone, Becky turned her attention back to Hermione.

"Honey, I need to know that you're going to be all right once I'm gone –"

"I'll be fine, Becky…"

"No one's going to be there to look out for you –"

"I can take care of myself…"

"We're just all scared, honey."

"I know," Hermione said quietly.

"We want you to be safe. Everyone back at work is just…terrified. No one expected that to happen…"

"I know, neither did I," Hermione said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Becky smiled sympathetically.

"Are you sure…you're going to be staying at your old house…and it's going to be empty…"

"I'm sure."

"Okay," Becky said, opening her purse. She pulled out the pounds required to pay for their orders, and placed it on the table. "I need to head back. Need to keep working on the tomb."

"From the outside," Hermione said a little too quickly and a little too loudly.

"From the outside," Becky seconded, taking her ice cream from the waitress. She bent down, and gave Hermione a hug. "Stay safe, Hermione."

"Take care," Hermione said, taking her coffee. Becky waved her goodbye, and left. And Hermione took a deep breath, before looking at the table and bursting into silent tears. She reached forward and grabbed some napkins, wiping furiously at her eyes. She hated this. She hated everything.

"Are you all right, miss?" the waitress finally asked from the next table, which she was wiping with a cloth.

"Yeah, I'm all right."

"You don't look happy."

"I said I was all right," Hermione said, smiling slightly. "Not that I was happy."

The waitress straightened up and looked at Hermione for the first time. Then she smiled, amused.

"Touché."

Hermione stood up, pulled on her coat, and wiped at her eyes one last time. She picked up her coffee, mimed cheers at the waitress, and left for the old Granger residence.

The empty Granger residence.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Okay. The address she's given is of her old home," Luna declared, reading off Hermione's file. Ron looked up, and Harry reached forward, copying the address on a separate paper.

"All right. I'll make my way there…" Harry said, reaching for his coat.

"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked suddenly, causing the other two to stop what they were doing and look at him. He blinked. "Why was she here?"

"There's nothing wrong with her," Harry said off-handedly.

"Luna," Ron said, redirecting his approach.

Luna gazed down at Hermione's file once more.

"They don't know."

Harry spurted slightly. Ron frowned.

"They don't know?" Harry blurted.

"They don't know," Luna said. "It says that…she was working. She's one of those – Merlin, what were they called…? Well, she's one of those people who inspect sites that give off magic and make sure they're safe. Otherwise, they block off these places…hide them from muggles – kind of like Hogwarts. She was on the job, inspecting a recently discovered tomb. Oh – she works in America!" Luna said suddenly, causing the men to jump slightly. "Sorry," she added, realizing. "She works and lives in America…and she and her co-worker were working on the case. Hmm." Luna read a little more, then her smile turned grim. "It was cursed to attack muggleborns. Apparently the owner, or whoever enchanted the tomb looked at them like…"

"Like filth," Harry spat, gritting his teeth. He sat down next to Ron, and Luna took the chair across from them.

"Well, yeah. So the tomb was especially cursed for that. And it must have realized that Hermione was a muggleborn. It attacked her particularly since she cast the first spell…" Luna read on. "The tomb filled up with water, but Hermione broke the enchantment…Oh."

"What?" Harry and Ron asked.

Luna looked up at both of them, a little bothered.

"'Patient must refrain from use of magic, almost indefinitely.'"

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"HERMIONE!" Becky bellowed, falling to her knees against the water. It was still flooded, but only to her knees. Waddling around like a helpless duck, she screamed out once more: "HERMIONE!"

Whipping around, searching for any possible sign – maybe a direction as to where her friend had gone. The water level was beginning to lower down, so it got easier. Becky waddled towards her backpack, pulling out her wand. She groaned. It had snapped, the upper half dangling dangerously. Oh no. Not again.

Then there was screaming.

"Hermione?" Becky shouted, turning around, trying to find the source of the scream.

It stopped.

Becky listened carefully, feeling like a character from a horror movie. All she could hear was the water drops falling from the ceiling.

Then Hermione shrieked. Becky felt the odd sensation of her hair standing up. She shook it off, and followed the sound.

"Hermione Granger!" she called out, despite knowing how useless it was.

She found a slight opening, and crouched, making her way through. The room beyond the openining seemed to be the lowest part of the tomb, and the most…magical. There was even a table in the middle of the room made of stone, stuck to the floor – and on it –

"Hermione!"

She was so pale…nearing on gray. Becky made her best attempt at running in the shin-high water, before reaching Hermione, and getting a better look. Her eyelids and lips were a faint blue color. Her hair was drenched, and she was covered in cuts. She looked a mess.

Becky reached out and touched an area on her neck. Pulse. She was still alive.

"Okay…okay…how am I going to get you out of here?" Becky asked the thin air, looking around frantically. The only way out was the only way in. And it was too small a gap for her to carry Hermione out. "Magic?"

She yelped in fright as Hermione made a loud gasp and grabbed her arm.

"Shit – Hermione! What the –"

"Harry?"

"No. Becky," Becky said irritably. She softened slightly and helped Hermione up. Hermione slumped down, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes. "Hermione, you're so…you look terrible." Hermione gave her a look before rolling her eyes. "Can you stand?"

"Help me," Hermione said.

Becky heaved her onto her feet and Hermione almost fell down like an unused rag doll.

"In a moment," she said testily. Becky smirked. "Get us out of here, please?" Hermione asked her.

"My wand's snapped," Becky muttered.

"Just like back in New York?"

"Just like back in New York."

It was Hermione's turn to groan.

At the back of her head she could remember Ron's wand having been persecuted in the same way during their second year and it stung her a little. Just a few moments ago she'd stared up at the blurry sight before her eyes and hoped, so much like a little twelve-year-old girl that it was Harry Potter who'd come to her rescue.

She picked her wand off the table and held it up shakily.

"Do you feel up for side-along apparition?" she smirked.

"Do I ever," Becky drawled. She held Hermione up, swinging Hermione's left arm around her neck, and held her firmly. "Let's get out of here."

Hermione nodded briskly, before closing her eyes and stilling herself. She thought hard, imagining the office. Imagining the walls, the desks, the paperwork and the people who stalked the hallways, always in a rush.

Becky watched her friend, nervous. Side-along apparition made everyone nervous, especially her. Their surroundings began to brighten – so she smiled hopefully. It was working.

Then all the light seemed to evaporate, running towards the centers…towards the source – towards them. Becky barely had a second before she was swept off her feet, onto her bottom and across the room. She hit the nearest wall with a weak thump. Opening her eyes wearily, she saw that all the light was gone. The room had darkened once again.

"Hermione?" Becky asked shakily, stumbling to her feet. She fell to her knees, her sides hurting from the collision. Hermione was floating face down in the water.

"Anybody here? Rebecca? Hermione?"

"So-An?" Becky screamed. She gazed at the opening, running towards Hermione.

"Rebecca? Is that you?" the incoming voice grew more urgent. "The sensors are off their hinges! What've you two done down there?"

"Get here now – it's Hermione!" Becky shouted, making her way back to her friend. She rolled Hermione onto her back. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly parted. All her cuts had darkened. Her eyelids were a faint dark blue, and her lips were turning purple. Becky lifted Hermione's hand, which was clutched tight around her wand. Her hand was gushing out blood. "So-An! She's not breathing!"

The figure came into view, a man who reached for his own wand and held it to Hermione's face. Becky swatted his hand away. "No – don't do magic inside. Hermione tried to apparate us out and it did this to her."

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

Harry paced back and forth as Luna spoke personally with Hermione's Healer. Whereas his eyes were glued to the floor, Ron watched Luna intently, searching for signals and reactions. Once Luna was done, she shook the Healer's hand and made her way back to Harry and Ron.

"What'd she say?" Harry asked immediately.

"She's cursed," Luna said. "The Healers don't really understand the curse though. All they've found out so far is that Hermione can't cast spells, and magic has no effect on her. Potions, spells, they won't work on her. And if she casts spells, she ends up hurting herself. They haven't explored into it yet. There's a team back at the site of the incident searching up on anything useful. While they've decided to take things slow here. Hermione's still recovering from the initial attack. But once she's up to it their going to run different tests."

"No countercurse?"

"They don't know. And if there was one, they'd be too scared to use it. I mean, what if something worse happens?"

"What about treatment? Even muggle treatment?"

"Nothing harmful has happened yet, Harry. Except for when she used magic the first time. They want to give her some time to rest first. But they're working on it. Apparently they're going to try and let her use magic a little next week to see if there's any progress."

"They're going to let her cast spells? What if she gets hurt?"

"Hermione consented."

"Oh no, no, no –"

"Harry," Luna said. "It's not your decision."

The two of them exchanged determined glares. Eventually Luna won, and Harry looked away, glowering.

"Look," Luna said, trying to make amends. "Go to her. You have her address. Go see her. Talk to her. Invite her to tonight's dinner!" Luna said, suddenly brightening.

Ron grimaced. "I don't think Hermione would like that."

"It wouldn't hurt to try," Luna told him, before turning to Harry and saying, "wouldn't it?"

Harry only looked at her blankly. Did Luna expect him to have the answer? Because Harry Potter four-to-five years ago would have had the answer. Harry Potter now, well, to put it simply - didn't.

"Come on, mate. Let's go," Ron said, standing up. Luna pushed him back down.

"No way, Ronald. You have to stay and help me fix dinner."

Ron looked mutinous, but under Luna's gaze, shrugged hesistantly.

"Good luck, mate," he said, giving Harry a grim smirk. Harry paused for a moment, matching Ron's somber gaze.

This was Hermione. This was his chance to make things right. He was worried, no doubt about it. No one he knew well and cared about had died in the last four years, and he'd like to keep it that way. Especially someone like her. No. Especially her.

Without another word, he gave Ron and Luna a short nod and left, clutching Hermione's address tightly in his hand.

Once he was out of the doors, Ron turned to Luna.

"Luna –" he began, about to ask something Luna already had the answer to.

"Ron. It's Harry, and it's Hermione. This is something they have to settle on their own."

"Right. On their own."

Luna sat down next to him, and he bent his forehead against her shoulder.

"What I'd give to be a kid again."

"You were a prat as a child, Ron," Luna told him sweetly. He smiled, and pecked her on the cheek.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

Hermione pushed the key into place, and turned it to the right. She was surprised by how easily the lock pulled back. It brought a chill to her neck. She turned the knob slowly, and pushed the door open. It squeaked against the wooden floor.

"Mum? Dad?" she whispered nonchalantly, stepping inside. "Nope. Still in Australia."

She made her way inside, keeping the door open behind her as her source of light. She traced her fingers against the fading wallpaper of the hallway until she made it to the stairs. She stopped though, and turned to her right first, staring at the living room. The pillows were exactly in place. The books on the three-foot bookshelf still intact. They were covered in a thin layer of dust. Hermione glanced to her left. The dining room was still perfect. The table sleek, with the chairs pushed in. She sighed, and made her way upstairs.

She entered her bedroom first, and sat on her bed. Dust spread as she did. Looking around, Hermione stared at the green walls as though she had never seen them before. She could see the numerous pictures taped to the wall. All of them concerning occasions. There were seven pictures though that remained unique.

Seven pictures that moved.

Seven pictures, and though the number of people in each of the pictures varied, there were three people spotted in each: Her, Ron and…Harry.

Hermione stood on her knees, and edged towards the headboard, above which these pictures were found. She touched the middle one, and traced her fingers over the three figures. They were grinning, swinging back and forth infront of the Great Hall. Ron was waving wildly at the camera, before doubling back and laughing. She looked over at her and Harry.

They had their arms around each other's waist, and were both grinning wildly at the camera.

Hermione took a breath, and backed away from the wall. She stood up, and made her way out of the room and towards the stairs. She made loud thuds against the floorboards of the staircase as she made her way down, then stopped short at the last step.

"Hermione."

She looked up at a man standing at the door way. He had his hands in his pockets, and was shuffling slightly, before finding his ground and staring straight at her. His mouth opened, then closed.

Hermione could only nod, her eyes locked to his.

"I…I…"

Harry stammered for the words, but they wouldn't come out. He was taken in by the very sight of her in many ways. It was Hermione. And his brain still had to register the fact that it was really her that was there, not an illusion his mind and heart would have willed. His mouth was hanging open and empty, and he couldn't help but feel awkward and self-conscious.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked like a deer-in-headlights. Her eyes were a little wide in surprise, and her eyebrows were slightly raised. She'd stopped mid-motion. After a moment of silence though, she softened, and ran at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

His arms found their way around her waist instinctively as they hugged – well, more like held each other – and swayed on the spot, cheek against cheek. He could tell that she was crying silently. He just held her closer. He felt her, her skin, her body. Her hair that tickled his neck slightly. The way she smelled, and the sound of her breath.

He just held her.

No words.

There was no need for them.

A/N: Wow. I've just realized how long it took me to update this. Now, I could give off excuses, but there isn't any excuse at all. So I'll just tell you what I've been up to lately. One, finals - and I mean high school finals. Two, graduating (yay me!) and Three, I had my birthday on March 30 (Smile!) and thus I'm now technically and officially free to go on writing without the burden of going to school the next day.

To tell you the truth, I had a number of different ways to go with this third chapter. Eventually, I ended up with this, which is also probably a contributing reason as to why it took so long. I hope you guys like the chapter. Jeez. I sound soppy. Thanks for those who reviewed! And I apologize for any spelling mistakes and errors in terms of tense. Didn't re-read this chapter after I wrote it, cause I wanted to post it so badly.

And I know this sounds dramatic, but it was seeing all your reviews that encouraged me to finish the chapter in order to post it. Love you guys!

PLEASE REVIEW? As a birthday gift?