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Chapter 9

October 1999

Ron made a huge effort in the following weeks to stay constant in Hermione's memory. He stopped by her office at work just to say hello and came by her flat in the evening to reminisce about all of their adventures together. Whenever he appeared in her doorway or fireplace, a look of confusion and sometimes panic filled her expression but she always quickly collected herself and greeted him. "Your name starts with an R," she'd always say and then murmured to herself that because of her accident she couldn't remember him. Her secret was that she looked at the pictures in her locket every morning, forcing herself to remember who he was and why she had a hard time remembering.

Hermione liked the sound of his voice and the excitement in his tone as he relived memories that she remembered but without him present. In her world, everything was as Ron recalled, but just without him there. Her favorite memories he recalled were ones that involved just the two of them, memories that were washed clean from her mind. At first, she told him how she remembered the events without him, but after seeing the disappointment on his face and enjoying it when he was happy much more, she stopped interrupting.

"You were brilliant," he grinned, recalling some war stories. "Without hesitation you just stabbed the cup and it sort of exploded." He looked up at her beside him on the couch. "It still amazes me, you know, how brave you were. Well, how brave you are. You never faltered."

"A true Gryffindor," Hermione smiled, reaching her hand out to take his. He laced their fingers together and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I wish I could remember the amazing things you did, Ron, because just hearing about it again is making everything make sense. I mean, how could someone not fall for a guy like you?"

Ron smiled and moved closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she cuddled closer. This was heaven to him at the moment. Of course he wished he could have the intimacy they had before, but he was taking what he could get and cherishing every moment of it.

"I have a confession to make," he said softly, stroking her hair as they enjoyed the silence of the room.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It's our anniversary."

Naturally, Hermione did the math in her head and lifted her chin to look at him. "It's October, though. We didn't start dating right after the war? That was May. Why did we wait?"

Ron shrugged. "Well we took it slow. You were gone for almost two months looking for your parents and spent a lot of time with them once they were back. I helped George out with the store while you were away. We tried out a few dates but then you decided to go back to school. I started Auror training and it was me who had had enough of being apart. We met in Hogsmeade and," he chuckled slightly.

"And what?" Hermione asked, wanting him to finish the story.

"As soon as I saw you, I ran over and just grabbed you and snogged you. Our second kiss since the war. Well, I guess there was more than one during the war, but we both sort of felt awkward about it once the adrenaline wore off. But I'd had enough and I made up my mind. I wanted to be with you, even if you were at school and I was training. I wanted it to be Ron and Hermione, you know?"

"So what happened after you snogged me?"

"Well, you clocked me with your bag and asked me what took me so long," he laughed.

"I did not!" Hermione laughed.

"You did!" Ron replied, laughing as well. "And it sort of just flew from there. We wrote nearly every day, spent holidays together, and I'd meet you in Hogsmeade on weekend trips. Once school was over, you stayed with me at Grimmauld Place where I was staying with Harry."

"And then the accident," Hermione recalled. "And I moved here."

Ron nodded. "This is the same flat we looked at the day we fought. You'd completely forgotten about that day. I took you picking this place as a sign that part of what we had was still alive. I'll never stop fighting for it to come back, Hermione."

Hermione looked up at him, deciding to focus on his lips, his nose, his forehead, anything but his eyes because she knew if she locked eyes with him, she'd be overcome with that fuzzy feeling and she'd forget again. "What if we focus on new feelings? Building new memories?"

Ron watched her eyes travel over his face and knew what she was doing. "Well we're already doing that, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I guess we are," she smiled and reached up to touch his hair. "Sorry the anniversary isn't very romantic."

"Given what we've gone through, this is more than I could ask for," he said and settled into a comfortable snuggle with her. "Turn on that muggle TV thing again. I rather enjoyed that last time you did."

Hermione laughed and reached for the remote control, turning the TV onto a random channel. It didn't matter what, Ron was amused in general by the television. She cuddled back up to him, enjoying his warmth and soon falling asleep next to him. She awoke in the middle of the night, the TV still on and Ron asleep with his head thrown back and his mouth wide open, snoring gently. She looked at the clock, it was a quarter to midnight, then looked back at the person she was cuddled against, struggling to remember exactly who he was. She felt a light chain around her neck and reached for it, finding a locket there. As she closed her hand around it, she remembered. This person was Ron and she couldn't remember exactly who he was because of a curse that Draco Malfoy hit her with. And today, for a few more minutes, it was their would-have-been one year anniversary together. Placing a hand on his chest, she shook him slightly. "Ron. Ron, wake up." She hated to do it, but she needed to send him home. Despite what today was and how much she remembered, she was worried of what the effects would be of waking up and not remembering the man next to her at all if he stayed the whole night. So she shook him a little harder to get him on his way. "Ron, it's time to go," she said a bit louder. He let out a loud snore as he awoke that jostled Crookshanks away from his spot atop the couch. He let out a hiss and pounced onto the floor, leaving the room with his tail in the air.

"Bloody cat always had it in for me," he murmured, rubbing his face. Hermione was facing him now, her hand still wrapped around her locket. He glanced at the clock and yawned. "I should go," he said, stretching some before getting up slowly.

"Yeah," Hermione said softly and stood with him, walking over to the fireplace with him. He took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, a burst of emerald green flame erupting. It wasn't good to be apparating when he was so sleepy and unable to focus. He turned to face her again, smiling.

"Well, goodnight," he smiled, hesitating for a moment before making a move toward the fireplace again. Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him to her, quickly standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips. When they kissed, everything seemed to melt away. Her thoughts became clouded and clearer at the same time.

An arm around her neck and a struggle. A brilliant flash of light, brighter than she'd ever seen. A scream that was definitely her own. But no darkness this time. Just the smell of fresh parchment and spearmint toothpaste.

Her eyes snapped open as a fuzzy feeling overcame her. Ron looked at her worriedly. "What's the matter?" She swallowed hard and looked up, testing the theory that had quickly formed in her thoughts as she met his eyes. "No, don't," he said, quickly looking away but she grabbed his face.

"Look at me," she whispered and he obeyed. She looked into his eyes and nothing happened. No trigger, no fuzzy feeling in her brain. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ron," she said softly. "Now don't waste my floo powder, go on home." She shooed him into the fireplace. "And speak clearly."

He looked happily confused but did as he was told and stepped into the fireplace. "Grimmauld Place," he said firmly and the emerald flames engulfed him and he was gone.

The smile dropped from Hermione's face once he was gone and she looked down at Crookshanks as he snaked around her legs. She picked him up and pet him softly, walking to where her coat was hanging. She always kept her remembrall in her coat pocket. Taking it out, she watched as the red smoke swirled for a moment before a few lashes of white peeked through, dancing almost merrily before mixing back in with the red. "We have work to do if we want to fix this," she said to the cat. "I have a plan."