Apologies for the slight delay this week guys, I realised I had made a slight miscalculation with something that affected the story, so I had to go back and edit it...all sorted now.

Thank you as always for your reviews.

Usual disclaimers apply...just a fan loving this Magical world!

Chapter Five

"Hermione!" Ron dashed into the pub, wheezing my name and sliding to a stop when he found me curled up in a corner of the establishment with a pot of tea and a book.

"Ron," I gasped, looking up at him and putting down my book instantly.

"Hey, I was hoping you'd be in here. I erm, wasn't sure where you staying or anything," he confessed, now looking a little awkward.

"We're at the B&B down the road, Mrs Wilson's," I replied. "Though, it's not very pleasant there to say the least, so I get out when I can."

"Yeah, can imagine, she's a bit of dragon," he laughed, obviously having had experience with her.

"There's nowhere else to go in the village though." I explained my reason for sitting in a pub at nine thirty in the morning. It was raining heavily this morning, but I couldn't stay in that smelly B&B room. No amount of magic I'd tried had managed to cover up the stench of what smelt like old cabbages, mould and cat urine in the room.

"Nah, it's a little boring around here," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at me. "Is that…are you reading a Muggle book?" he asked curiously, peering at the front cover of the cheap, trashy romance novel I had picked up in the corner shop half an hour ago. I couldn't believe I hadn't packed anything to read - Hermione Granger, with nothing to read, really?

"Well, I can't very well sit in here reading 'Hogwarts: A History', can I?" I laughed.

"Huh?" Ron scrunched his nose up.

"Never mind," I flapped my hand. "Just an old silly joke between us."

"Oh, wish I could remember," he muttered.

"Yeah, me too," I sighed. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"Oh yeah," he suddenly remembered why he'd been running around the village looking for me. He sat down opposite me. "So, I often have these dreams…only I'm never sure whether they're just weird dreams, or glimpses of my past. Anyway, after talking to you both yesterday, I had another dream last night and…I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?" I asked, hopeful, excited that he might have remembered something about me, about us.

"Yeah, that three headed dog you mentioned, fluffy? He was in it, and you and Harry, though we were all kids. And…I remember music playing, then going through some trap door, landing on something squishy. And there was a huge chess board at some point, think we were playing the game as chess pieces," he looked confused. "Is…can any of that be real?" he asked me.

I nodded. "All of it," I told him. I was glad he had remembered something from his past, yet tried to hide the slight disappointment it wasn't anything significant about us. I had to be patient, I reminded myself.

"Really?" he asked, wide eyed. "Even the giant chess pieces?"

"Yes," I smiled patiently at him, the way I did when trying to explain things to Rose sometimes. "You forget, it was a magic school," I whispered, conspiratorially. Ron laughed. "Remember that Philosopher's stone we told you about? The reason behind the troll being in the school?" He nodded. "Well…all those things you dreamt, they were obstacles meant to protect the stone from being stolen. The music put fluffy to sleep so you could sneak through the trapdoor. The squishy stuff we landed on, was a huge plant, devils snare…that could practically squeeze you to death. And then the giant chess board…we had to play our way across. Good thing you're an expert chess player."

"I am?" His eyes widened. "I mean…Max sometimes challenges me to a game and I usually win. I just thought it was because he was, well…old." He chuckled once. "Wow," he grinned to himself, probably feeling good about being great at something. "So, my dream was actually my real memories?" he mused to himself. "I wonder how many other dreams have actually been real events?"

"Probably quite a few." I pointed out. "I think your memories are still all there, in your subconscious…present in your mind without your awareness of it. But, when you're asleep, your guards are down and your mental activity is not directly perceived by your consciousness, so memories and feelings slip through without your realization of it."

"Erm…" he frowned, trying to work out what I had just said and I realised I'd rambled one of my long, text book answers. "So, you just mean my memories can slip through in my sleep when my minds more relaxed?"

"Yes, pretty much." I nodded, pleased he'd understood.

"Great! Maybe I should sleep all the time, might remember more stuff then," he sighed and looked slightly put out.

"It will come back, I'm sure of it. I mean, now you have us to ask about stuff. You just need to be patient," I stroked his arm, before I even realised I was doing it. The heat of his skin seeped through the cotton of his shirt and my hand tingled at the connection.

He gazed down at my hand on his arm for a moment and then looked up at me slowly and coughed. "Well," he suddenly jumped up from his seat. "I had best be off. Only came into the village because Max asked me to pick up some bread and his morning paper. Don't know why he reads that Muggle trash though…" he rolled his eyes. "Full of doom and gloom or some weird celebrities I've never even heard of with barely any clothes on!" He looked scandalised, shaking his head. "Anyway, have a good morning," he nodded, before backing away and heading for the door.

"I'll see you later," I added to his retreating back.

"Later! Oh yeah, damn," he turned and came back. "Forgot, another reason I was looking for you. Mentioned to Mildred over breakfast that I was meeting you and Harry for dinner tonight, to talk more. And, she insisted I invite you both to the farm for dinner, with us. So, erm…do you wanna come?" He stood, bouncing on his heals with his hands behind his back and looking nervous.

"We'd love to," I smiled and nodded. "That sounds lovely."

"Great!" He grinned. "So erm…she said about seven, if that's okay? It's the big farm house out of the village, down Creasons Road. Has a big red roof. Hang on, I'll draw you a map." He grabbed a napkin and borrowed a pen from the bar. For a few seconds he doodled on the napkin and then handed it to me, complete with his scruffy scrawl that I knew almost as well as my own, having read over his essays so often in school and then later, his reports for work.

"Perfect. We'll both be there. I'll see you later Ron," I smiled at him, tucking the napkin carefully into my bag.

He smiled at me. "I'm actually getting used to you calling me that, already." He admitted, "Right…best go get this bread!" he remembered again and darted out of the pub. I laughed at him as he left – some things didn't change apparently.

Harry returned to the village just before lunchtime. He'd sent me an owl early this morning to let me know he was heading over to The Burrow with Ginny and the kids to tell Molly about Ron. Having exhausted the village's assets, we'd disapparated to a small seaside town further down the coast and, as we walked together along the sea front, I told him of my encounter with Ron this morning and the slight change of plans for tonight.

Since the rain had eased off and the sun was out again now, we decided to stop for lunch at a little fish and chip kiosk on the front. "So, how did Molly take it?" I asked, biting into a chip as we sat down at a picnic table.

"Honestly, she scared me," he replied, opening his can of coke. "I mean, I thought she was going to faint at first!"

"Well, it is rather a shock." I nodded my understanding, after all I'd felt the same way when I first found out. "Finding out your son is back from the dead, so to speak."

"I know…but then she bombarded me with dozens of questions. How he was, how did he look, what had happened, where he'd been all this time and everything. It really took some time getting her to understand about the amnesia stuff. She insisted it was daft and that he would remember her. I hadn't the heart to say he hadn't even mentioned her." He shrugged and ate a chip.

"It's tough," I sighed. "Even though I understand he simply can't remember us, it still kind of hurts that he doesn't."

Harry nodded, his mouth full. "Still, with Ginny's help, we managed to persuade her that rushing out here and flinging her arms around her long lost son wouldn't be such a good idea right now. She just made me promise that we'll bring him home."

"That's our intention," I opened my drink. "Are Rosie and Hugo okay?"

"Ginny says they've been fine, but they're staying with Molly tonight. Ginny has an article she needs to finish and can't find a quiet moment with a house full of kids."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dumping my two on her as well."

"Oh, no, she thought you'd say that, and she doesn't mind at all. Besides, they're all stopping with Grandma tonight, my three included. Then Ginny can get her work done."

"Poor Molly," I laughed,

"Rubbish, she thrives on it,"Harry grinned. "You know she loves nothing more than a house full of kids."

"True," I nodded. "I think my Hugo could've given the twins a run for their money at that age though."

"Yeah, Ginny did mention some minor incident…don't worry, it was nothing serious," he quickly added upon my alarmed face. "No bugs out of his nose this time," he chuckled. "It was some game he and Al have invented, something about hunting dragons."

I shook my head. "Should've known dragons would be involved. Oh, I do hope my little boy doesn't end up like Hagrid," I sighed.

Harry laughed loudly at that and people around us stared. "Erm, anyway…they were traipsing around the garden, but Hugo tripped and fell on the stick he was using as a wand, it jabbed into his leg. Ginny fixed him right up, of course, but he asked her for a plaster, she didn't know what one was and he got upset."

"Sorry, that's my mum's doing. If they ever get into any scrapes when she's looking after them, she puts a plaster on it, since obviously she can't do, magic," I whispered for fear people might hear. "My kids now think they're such a novelty and Hugo asks for them for every little scratch - especially when my mum bought him some with pictures of dinosaurs on, he swears they're dragons!" I rolled my eyes.

Harry laughed. "Well, he's fine now and I explained what they are to Ginny – she thinks it sounds weird!"

"But, apart from that, are they okay? I feel bad leaving them."

"They're fine for now. But…you might wanna visit soon or something. Rose has started asking when you're coming home a lot and where you are. She's been following Ginny around a lot too."

"She gets unnerved when I leave her. I'm always afraid it will bring those nightmares back. I'll go and spend some time with them tomorrow." I decided. "In fact…" I finished up my lunch and got up to throw the empty carton away. "Let's go down to those shops, and I'll buy them both something fun."

"Great idea, I can get Lily something for her birthday. Can't believe she'll be two in just a few weeks." He shook his head as he got up to follow me. "Mind you," he whispered. "I'm not so sure they'll sell dragons!" He laughed.

"Mildred." Ron led us into a cosy, typical old fashioned farmhouse kitchen. Complete with a fire place and pots hanging above it, a large butler sink, the essential scrubbed wooden table and a mismatch of wooden cabinets. "This is Harry, and Hermione," he introduced us as she turned from the range she was cooking on.

"Hello," she wiped her hands quickly on a tea towel and then shook our hands.

"Thank you so much for inviting us," I replied politely. "We've heard a lot about you, it's nice to finally meet."

"I'm glad you could come. It's wonderful to finally get some answers about this young man," she nodded toward Ron, whose ears were turning pink at the tips. "Now, you both sit down. "Roland, why don't you go and get Max, he's in the barn. Tell him our guests have arrived and dinner is almost ready."

"Sure. I'll be right back," he told us and sprinted out of the stable style door.

After he was gone, she eyed us both intently. "So, you're the infamous Harry Potter then?"

"You know who I am?" Harry asked in slight alarm.

"Of course. Doesn't everyone in the Magical world? Max suddenly realised who you were the other night in the pub. He came home and told me. So, I suppose if you're Harry, and you're Hermione. That would make him Ron Weasley." She nodded her head towards the door Ron had just ran out of. "The Golden trio together again." She sat down at the table and indicated for us to do the same.

"Well, yes. But, I thought you went into hiding before the war? So, how do you know all that?" I asked.

"Just because we were in hiding, didn't mean we didn't keep up to date with what was going on. We had to watch our backs and check we were still safe, that death eaters weren't getting too close to us. So, we saw the Daily Prophet reports, we know what the three of you did. How instrumental you all were to ending Voldemort's terrifying and hideous reign."

"Oh," Harry and I looked at one another. "But, Max told us that you gave up magic? Or at least gave up the Magical world." I was confused.

"We did. But not until after the war. By the time it was all over, we'd already been living here a couple of years. And well, we realised we were quite happily settled. We'd made friends in the village, and neither of us have living relatives in the magical realm. So, we were happy here and we decided to stay, living as Muggles. Of course, we still use magic in emergencies, such as when we found Roland. I spent awhile healing him."

"Thank you," I whispered, wishing I could convey to her just how thankful I was for saving his life.

She waved away my thanks. "Of course, if we had still been in touch with magical ways, we might have realised who he was. It had been 10 years since those articles after the war, he's grown up a lot, never even crossed my mind. But, had we not lost touch, we might have seen the reports of him missing and got in touch with someone. We don't really hear any news from our old life anymore."

"Well, at least he's alive. And we found him now," I smiled, grateful for small mercies.

"Yes, you have. And now, with the two of you to talk to and fill in the blanks for him, maybe his memory can finally heal."

"I hope so," I sighed. "But…it's going to be a slow process…there are a lot of painful memories too, a lot of difficult times for all of us. Some things will cause him pain and I don't want to overwhelm him or upset him about things, at least not yet. One day he'll have to know, but not right now."

"That's perfectly understandable." she nodded. "It's obvious you care a great deal for him. I suspect this is a bit more than just a couple of old friends searching for their missing friend?" She raised a critical eyebrow.

"Oh, erm…we, er…" I stumbled over my words, wondering just how much she suspected. Did she know we were married? Could she tell I was still hopelessly in love with him? "We just, well, we have a lot of history together." I finally answered, just before Ron returned with Max, and a little white terrier in tow. She patted my hand and gave me a silent smile as she stood up to serve dinner.

"Dinner smells wonderful, Milly dear," Max inhaled deeply as he went to the sink to wash his hands.

Ron was crouched on the floor, patting the dogs belly and ears. I smiled, he'd always wanted a dog, but by the time we moved into a house with a garden for one, we just never got around to it, busy building our careers. And then the children came along and neither of us had the time or energy to care for a dog as well.

"Yes, well, come on, sit down." She took a chicken pie from the oven and set it on the table, followed by a bowl of crisp salad and another bowl of steaming, buttery new potatoes.

"No one cooks better than Mildred." Ron told us, standing up from playing with the dog and washing his hands quick, before taking his seat at the table, opposite me.

"What? Even better than your…" Harry nudged me to be quiet.

"Huh?" Ron looked up from cutting himself a slice of pie as I faded off.

"Nothing," I smiled. "This all looks lovely."

"Well, dig in then, don't be shy. Plenty to go around." She offered me the bowl of potatoes and we all began passing dishes around the table until we tucked in to our food. Ron was right, she was a marvellous cook, but…I still reckon Molly was some fierce competition.

Conversation flowed around the table and it soon transpired that Mildred was three years older than Max. "He's my toy boy," she teased him. "We met at St Mungos, when he came in with spell damage." She laughed at some memory.

"Do we have to tell this story?" Max muttered, gazing down at his plate.

"But it's funny dear. Haven't been able to tell this story for years," she chuckled. "See, he'd somehow managed to give himself a huge, and I mean huge, wart, right in the middle of his forehead! And, the longer he sat waiting to see a healer, the more this wart was growing and others were popping up all over his body. He was a right mess, I can tell you," she laughed and squeezed her husbands hand. "Anyway, I soon got him sorted and finally recognised him without all the warts. Couldn't believe it was the same gangly boy that had been three years below me at Hogwarts. We fell in love soon after that…Max had a habit of inflicting himself with spell damage.

"You ever thought I did it on purpose as an excuse to see you again, dear?" he asked.

"You didn't?" she gasped. "After all these years…" she shook her head slowly at this new revelation.

"You were at Hogwarts?" Harry grasped onto that subject.

"Oh, yes. Though I suppose it was very different from when you were there. Professor Dumbledore had just become headmaster when I started. I was so scared when I first started, I'd no idea I was a witch until about three months before the school year began. There I was, planning on going to the local secondary school with all my friends, when I was suddenly informed I was a witch and had a place at a special boarding school. My parents were rather shocked."

"I felt the same." I nodded. "I was so nervous and I guess I felt I had to prove something. My parents were rather proud of me though, I think they always thought there was something a little...different about me."

"You're Muggle-born?" Ron asked me.

"Yes." I nodded. "Both my parents are Muggles, they're dentists." I added.

"Oh," he returned to his meal, with a curious look on his face, probably trying to work out what a dentist was.

"Roland told me the stories you were telling him yesterday, about what you got up to in your first year. A few terrible things happened there before I started. I have to say I'm glad they seemed to be over by then, otherwise I don't think I could ever have gone back."

"What happened?" Harry and I both asked, intrigued by the conversation. Ron even looked up, it was obviously not a story he had heard, I suspected they didn't talk much about their magical lives with him, or anyone, anymore.

"Well...I heard a girl was killed. They found her body in the girls lavatories."

"You don't mean Moaning Myrtle?" I almost choked on a potato.

"Yes. Did you come across her? Oh, I tried to avoid that bathroom. But once or twice when I was distracted with panicking over my exams, I went in there…she scared me half to death!"

"Who was Moaning Myrtle" Ron asked.

"Oh come on, you have to remember old Myrtle?" Harry asked him. "I mean, you two had such a lovely…friendship!" he laughed.

"Yeah, well…no memories," he knocked on his head. "Remember." He sulked.

"Oh, yeah, sorry mate," Harry muttered, feeling bad.

"She was a ghost," I explained to Ron. "She haunted the girls toilets on the first floor. And well, she was usually crying, hence her being known as 'moaning' Myrtle. She was killed in her third year. We had a few…run ins with her during our years at school."

"Oh, right," he muttered, pretending he didn't care.

"I don't really know how she died. The other kids liked to talk about it a lot. I heard someone was expelled over it, but I always suspected he wasn't really behind it." Mildred continued.

"He wasn't. Hagrid was expelled, but he didn't do it. It was Voldemort. Well, Tom Riddle. He opened the Chamber of Secrets which released a basilisk, that's what killed her."

"Oh my," she grasped her chest. "How do you know all this?"

"Well, we, erm, got ourselves into some…incidents in school. All part of the bigger picture that was to come. But…we uncovered that one in our second year and cleared Hagrid in the process."

"I see. Well, you certainly had an interesting time in school."

"I remember Hagrid," Max suddenly joined the conversation. "He lived on the grounds, as gamekeeper or something. He was a bloody big bloke…heard rumours he was part giant. Some people reckoned he was a bit of an idiot."

"Hagrid is a very close friend of ours," Harry stuck up for him.

"I didn't think he was an idiot." Max defended himself. "Actually, Hagrid instilled in me my love of animals."

"Do you remember Hagrid?" I asked Ron, gently.

He shook his head. "Nope."

"He was very kind to us all, helped us out a lot…well, in his own way. He still thinks a lot of you." I told him.

"Oh," Ron muttered. "That's nice…someone else I don't remember!"

I watched him as he continued eating his meal, concentrating hard on his plate to avoid eye contact and I felt a little hurt – he didn't have to snap – I was only trying to include him in the conversation. Was this normal behaviour for him these days? Was this what the accident and being without loved ones for the past two years had done to him? Turned him into a sullen grouch? But then I felt guilty as I realised all this talk of Hogwarts and things he didn't remember must be frustrating for him. It must be really hard for him to hear us talk of his own childhood, of things he'd done and people he'd known, when he hadn't a clue about any of it.

"So…do you keep up with Quidditch?" I asked him, wanting to change the subject and hopefully his mood. I know he remembered Quidditch, since we'd talked about it the day before at the pub.

"Not so much," he shrugged. "We don't get the Prophet or the WWN or anything here. So…I don't have a clue what's been going on. Who won the last World Cup? Did England?" He grasped at a subject he could at least be involved in.

Harry shook his head. "Nah, sorry mate. We did make it to Semi-Finals though, but then Bulgaria beat us."

"Huh…bloody Bulgaria, bunch of morons!"

"Ron! What made you say that?" I wondered. Did it have anything to do with his jealousy over a certain Bulgarian player? A jealousy which stemmed from our fourth year when this player in question, Victor Krum, invited me to the Yule Ball. The ball I had longed for Ron to ask me to, but back then he was either too blind or too embarrassed to realise his feelings for me.

"I dunno. They just seem dumb," he shrugged. "So, who did win?" he asked Harry.

"Last time it was Italy…they beat Bulgaria by 310 points. The match went on for about nine hours before anyone caught the snitch…longest match I've ever been to!" he chuckled.

"You went?" Ron looked positively jealous.

"Yeah, my erm…well, someone I know managed to get us tickets," he muttered, not wanting to mention it was his wife, who was still involved in the Quidditch league, had secured tickets for a lot of the family that wanted to go. Nor the fact that she happened to be Ron's little sister.

"Wow! What about other teams? Who's top of the league and all that now?" Ron's mood changed dramatically, now that he had a conversation he could join in with. Obviously I had been right, and before he'd just been getting frustrated about all the things he couldn't remember.

They lost me then as the talk became a heated discussion of league tables, recent matches, scandals amongst the teams and players I'd never heard of. Max joined in occasionally, turned out he'd played on the Hufflepuff team in his last year at school. Mildred and I merely smiled at one another across the table as the boys chatted, before I got up to help her clear the dishes and serve up the pudding - a thick and creamy home made rice pudding, with strawberry jam.

"So, who's top of the league right now?" Ron asked.

"Not the Cannons, that's for sure!" Harry laughed, trying to entice him to remember something.

"What's wrong with the Cannons? They're a decent team."

"They've never won anything though, have they?"

"They try hard though," Ron unknowingly defended his team.

"I prefer the Harpies myself," Harry smiled smugly to himself, remaining loyal to the team his wife had played on for almost six years before James came along.

"Huh! Bunch of old women that team" Ron scoffed.

"Hey!" Harry was about to thump him, but then seemed to think better of it.

And as I watched them talking so passionately about the damn game, I realised I was jealous – of a stupid game! How could he remember all about Quidditch, the teams he supported, players on those teams and even bloody scores from years ago, when he couldn't even remember the slightest little detail about me? His wife! How was that fair? Why had his mind chosen to retain useless information about a game and yet nothing about his family, his children, our relationship…not even our friendship? Was a stupid, pointless game more important to him than us?

"Maybe we could start getting the Prophet delivered?" I heard Ron say and I realised they were still on the same subject. "I mean…just so I could keep up on the Quidditch scores and stuff." He suggested to Mildred and Max.

"I wouldn't mind that," Max agreed with a nod. "To be honest, sat here talking with all of you, it's making me sort of miss the magical world. It's been years since we've talked much about our wizarding years." He looked to his wife for her opinion.

"Yes…perhaps it's time we caught up with it all, see what's changed." She agreed.

"Well, perhaps after Ron's settled back home, you can come and visit and…" I realised what I'd said suddenly and faded off.

"Hang on." Ron looked up from his pudding sharply, creamy globs dripping from the spoon that had been half way to his mouth. "Who said anything about me going anywhere? I mean, this is home to me now."

"B...but…" I stammered, not knowing what to say and looking to Harry for help.

"Well, it's just…there's nothing for me out there now, is there? Nothing I remember anyway. My life is here now. All that stuff, it's in my past and gone as far as I'm concerned."

"How can you say that?" I yelled at him and everyone, including Ron, stared at me in surprise. "What about your parents? Your family? Don't they deserve to see you, to know you're alright? And what about…you have people out there who love you, you know." Harry was desperately trying to get my attention, to stop me going on by shaking my arm, but I angrily shook him off. Now I was furious with Ron. To not remember his family because of an injury was one thing. To not give a toss about them was something else entirely.

"But I don't know them, do I? They're just strangers to me. I mean, we can keep in touch, the three of us. We can chat in letters and…you can tell me more about my childhood and that. But," he sighed. "I don't see the point in causing a huge commotion for them by me suddenly turning up after all this time." He shrugged.

"It's not all about you, you know!" I snapped and threw my spoon into my bowl. "Don't you even care about your parents? What we, they, went through?"

"Hermione," Harry tried again nudging me furiously with his elbow.

"Shut up Harry!" I snapped at him.

"I don't even know my damn parents, Hermione," he replied sternly, trying to keep his temper under control. "I'd just be a bloody disappointment to them." He mumbled.

"You're a rotten selfish git Ronald Weasley!" I yelled at him and shoved my chair back abruptly. "Mr and Mrs Bridges, thank you very much for dinner, it was lovely. But if you'd excuse me, I have to go!" With that I turned and raced out of the door, vaguely hearing someone call my name behind me. I didn't stop or go back, just merely paused in the middle of the farm yard long enough to disapparate directly back to the B&B with tears streaming down my face.

Back in that stinky old room, I threw myself down on the bed, cursing him under my breath as I sobbed and sobbed. How cruel was it to finally find him and then only to find out he expected me to let him go again? How could he even suggest such a thing? Why was life so cruel to me?