Author's Note: THANK YOU FOR READING! I appreciate the comments so much so please keep the reviews coming! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 3

July 1999

The door closed behind Hermione again as she returned to her apartment after dinner with her friends. Crookshanks trotted over to her, purring as he twisted and turned around her legs, rubbing against her. It had been a decent evening, the conversation mostly focused around Harry and Ginny's lastest trip together to a wizard only beach. Whenever he was addressing their dinner guest, Harry made a point to say Ron's name, for Hermione's sake. She appreciated the sentiment, but the truth was, his name slipped her mind every few minutes. To be honest, she even forgot they were a group of four rather than three a few times throughout the night when conversation had lulled during the meal. Even though she had parted with her friends just outside her front door, and Harry had said Ron's name one last time, she couldn't remember it after the elevator ride up to her flat. This feeling of forgetfulness was consuming her and she was beginning to feel physically ill. Deciding to save the tidying of the kitchen for tomorrow, she retired to bed. She got changed into her pajamas in silence, slipped into her freshly made bed, and drifted off to sleep rather quickly.

An arm around her neck. A struggle. A flash of light, brighter than she'd ever experienced. A scream, was that her voice? Then nothing.

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up abruptly in her bed. Where had her dreams just taken her? She could barely remember.

The same dream repeated every night that week, never a detail more and always leaving her in a frazzled state. She was due at the Ministry that Monday to report to her official first day of work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, a position she was supposed to start over a month ago before she had her accident. The night before she was to report for duty, she had the nightmare again, only this time she could hear the distinct laughter of Draco Malfoy. She could still hear it echoing in her ears hours later as she poured herself a cup of coffee, her second that morning.

Deciding she had some time to spare, she brought the cup of coffee to her lips and closed her eyes as she inhaled its scent. Every morning for a month, Harry would bring her her morning coffee before any doctors or admired wizards were allowed to enter and start examining her. They would go over what had happened, why she was there, the spell she was under, and what they would be attempting that day in order to bring her back to normal. Most days in the beginning were full of questions. Hermione found these days the worst because of the frustration of not remembering that overcame her and the persistence of her interrogators. Even with Harry and various other visitors such as Ginny and other members of the Weasley tribe there for support, the days were long and taxing. She'd often get into fights with whosever job it was to bother her that day, questioning their methods and countering the theories with several lifetimes worth of knowledge. Spitting out the facts that swirled in her head would ease her anger at not remembering her own life, especially such an intimate part. She was thankful when they started to attempt alternate methods of treatment, ones that didn't involve her speaking.

She remembered the first day the Aurors came to attempt counter curses on her. She was willing to try anything, but the attempts at the brutal curses hadn't lasted long. One of the Aurors, a young looking fellow with flaming red hair, had insisted they stop after one of the curses had a very painful effect on her and her scream had not only filled the room but echoed in the halls. She related it to being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor and was quite shaken for the next few days. The stranger had made an attempt to comfort her, and for whatever reason seemed quite shaken himself, but she had taken it as just part of his duties for the day. Not feeling well, she didn't have the energy to think much else of it.

A faint pop brought her back to the present and she saw Harry and a familiar yet unrecognizable boy that usually tagged along with him in her living room. She was expecting Harry as an escort on her first day of work, but she wasn't expecting company. "Good morning, Harry," she smiled as she approached them

"Ron and I are your hired protection for the morning," said Harry proudly. He loved his job as an Auror, even the fluffy jobs like escorting his very able best friend to the Ministry of Magic. Hermione couldn't be anything less than proud of Harry for all he'd been through and how well he was doing now. He seemed to be getting along with his fellow co-worker's as well. She looked over at the other man with him, young, like Harry, and that red hair. She'd seen that red hair before.

"Ron," she murmured and his blue eyes lit up. As soon as they locked with hers, it was like her brain clouded and she forgot his name altogether. "Right, so, shall we go?" she spoke as she quickly came out of her haze and reached for her coat which was draped over the couch. The Ministry had changed greatly since the end of the war, including modes of transportation for its workers. Harry had been happy not to have to flush himself down a toilet anymore. With the creation of a few new spells, Aurors were now allowed to apparate directly into the Ministry and also had the ability to transport guests in as well. Harry moved to her right and took her hand once she had her coat on, his co-worker moving to her left. She looked down at their hands when they joined, the feeling altogether too familiar. Not noticing she wasn't focusing, the trio turned on the spot and they were twisting and turning through time and space. A lifetime later, or maybe just a second, they came to a sudden stop in the main hall of the Ministry. Hermione gripped both of their hands for grounding but her head was swimming. That had never happened when she apparated before, she was usually so focused. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her companions saw how pale she was and Harry quickly directed her to a nearby wastebasket while the tall redhead blocked their view, telling onlookers to keep it moving in the most authoritative voice he could muster. Once her stomach was empty and she was thoroughly embarrassed, Harry led her down the hall towards the elevators and up to Auror department to his office, his co-worker in tow. Once in the privacy behind a closed door, Hermione put her head in her hands. "Oh brother," she murmured.

"I don't understand. You've apparated a million times," Harry said, his face a mask of concern.

"I was… distracted," she admitted.

"You're lucky you didn't get splinched," came the voice of Harry's co-worker. Hermione looked up at him angrily.

"This is none of your business, don't you have other duties to attend to?" she quickly fired back. "And what was your name, anyway?" The tall stranger before her stood rigidly, quiet for a moment as if he wanted to say something but was holding back. "If you have something to say, then say it!" she yelled again.

"Fine!" he bellowed and the single word, again, seemed familiar. "I'm so sick of sitting back and being quiet." Harry made an attempt to stop him, but he just kept going. "You were hit with a homemade curse that made you forget the one person in this world who loved you more than he did his own life. A man who has loved you for most of his life and would do anything for you. He made you forget me and every time you look at me and have no idea who I am, a part of me dies like your memories of us. Every time Harry has to say my name so you'll remember it and every time you forget it almost immediately, I'm filled with such… anger. I hate that you don't remember me. I hate that he did this to you. I hate that I was asked to hush up and go along with it until maybe someday you get your memory back." He stopped and took a deep breath, calming himself down some. This outburst had been building for some time now. "I hate when you remember something about me and I can see it in your eyes that you do but within seconds it's gone. That I can't just pull you to me and kiss you. That everything I've ever said or done is like it never happened. No one's stopped to think about how I feel in all of this. I was just pushed aside and told to be silent and still. I don't want to be silent anymore, it hurts too much. Okay? I said it. It hurts."

His eyes were on Hermione, brimming with tears at the confession he had finally let out. Hermione took in what he just said, raised her head and met his eyes. That cloudy feeling overcame her again and she shook her head softly. "I'm sorry… I…" she stammered. "I can't remember your name."

Almost instantly, the tall redhead swung around, his fist meeting, and going through, the wall of the office he shared with Harry. Hermione let out a gasp as Harry called out his co-worker's name. "Ron!" he called again as he followed him out of the office. Hermione stood slowly, approaching the wall, reaching a hand out to touch the hole, her eyes moving over the blood that had spilled from its damagers hand. With a deep breath, she drew her wand, murmured a spell, and the wall was fixed, no sign of ever being damaged.