"Lily."

"Mm-hmm?" Lily replied distractedly, as she sorted through her ties, searching for one of the proper length.

"I had a dream last night about someone," Rose replied, sitting up from where she had been reclining moments earlier.

"Oh, who about?" Lily teased with a wink. Rose gave her a small smile.

"About a person I used to live with. Her name was Hermione." Rose had at last captured Lily's full attention.

"You used to live with her?" Lily asked curiously. Rose saw a mixture of emotions in her face. There was an unsuppressed eagerness to know more, blended with some restraint and- could it be? Even a very slight tinge of jealousy.

"Yes. She was reading a letter. I couldn't see her face."

Rose struggled to retain her cool manner. Her nerves were being rubbed fiercely together, like sandpaper. She wanted to burst into tears of joy and sadness; there was a glassy film over her eyes- one of tears that she refused to let fall. Emotion poured out from every place in her body, her soul, and mind, straight into her chest, where it knotted together as a weight on her heart.

"What did the letter say? Could you read it?" Lily asked tentatively.

"Part of it- her hair blocked the rest. I didn't see whom it was from, but the sender was giving her condolence. Her- her father had just passed away, but she didn't get to say good-bye because someone had placed a Memory Charm on him, I think, and she didn't get to take it off before he died. The person who sent it said they were bringing over Ron and Jenny- no, Ginny."

Lily was having another internal battle again.

"Do you-, well, do you remember them?" Rose looked thoughtful.

"I know their names. I know them. But I don't remember anything about them. I can associate bright red with them, but I don't know why."

"Do you think that you should tell Dumbledore about this?" Lily asked, ties now abandoned across her bedspread.

"I'm sure that I should tell him. Maybe he can find out who Hermione is. Or Ron, or Ginny," Rose replied.

Rose felt her heart, thumping in her chest. Her blood seemed to be racing- every heartbeat was a rush through her veins. Heat crept over her face. Could she stand this much longer? She stood abruptly and crossed at an unnatural speed to her trunk. Her shaking fingers fumbled with the latch, she finally managed to throw it open.

"I'll send him a letter. Can I borrow your owl?" Rummaging through her trunk, as if her life depended on it, she withdrew a pot of ink, a quill and piece of parchment. Lily nodded numbly, startled by her frantic actions.

"Thank you," Rose said as she swept by Lily quickly. She now began to run, throwing the door behind her. Her breath was now heaving gasps, as she desperately tried not to cry. She hurtled down the stairs, and ran blindly to the portrait hole. It opened, and she plunged through, it, colliding straight into a set of robes.

"Rose?" a male voice called after her.

"Rose!" it repeated.

"I'm sorry, do forgive me," she yelled without turning back. She maintained her pace, tears now beginning to leak down her cheeks without restraint. She tried to wipe them away to no avail, but she plodded on, sweeping down stairways, flashing through corridors, until she was, once again, hopelessly lost. She could maintain this speed no longer with such limited breathing. She searched for a private place, anyplace where she would not be seen openly weeping. Spying a tapestry, she walked to it quickly, breaths sharp and frequent, and pulled it back to reveal her desire; an empty passageway. She crawled into it; leaning against the smooth, cold wall, she slumped down it, sitting now on the dusty floor and cried.

If she thought he wouldn't follow her after a scene like that, she truly was mad. Sirius kept a safe distance, yet a steady pace. She wove her way down three floors, running crazily with ink and parchment. Was she going to send a letter? But to whom? After all, she didn't know anyone except at Hogwarts and she could just talk to them. She suddenly stopped in the middle of a corridor on the second floor. He froze in place, praying fervently she wouldn't turn around and spot him there. She didn't- instead, she crossed over to a tapestry and went through the passageway. Carefully, he made his way to the same one and listened outside of it. She was in there! Crying her heart out by the sound of it. He gently pulled back the curtain that separated them, and kneeled next to her.

Rose felt the light flooding into her hiding place. Gasping, she turned to see Sirius, sitting next to her on the floor. She quickly wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her robe.

"Si- Sirius. What are you doing here?" she choked out.

"I wanted to know if you were okay. You didn't seem like it a few minutes ago," he answered kindly.

"Well, I guess I'm still not," she gushed. Her words seemed to pour out of her mouth, without her brain's consent.

"What's the matter?" he inquired concernedly, now leaning against the wall and sitting next to her.

"I- I had a dream last night about a girl I used to live with. Her name was Hermione," Rose replied. Her breathing had calmed considerably, and embarrassment started to creep over her for making such an incredible fuss.

"She had just received a letter- her father had just died, and someone had altered his memory. Before she could restore it, however, he died, so she didn't get a proper good-bye."

"Is this what made you storm the hall like a madwoman?" he teased. She let out a watery sort of laugh.

"It was the root cause, I must admit. But this- this- emotion, this passionate yearning for my memory, just sort of, overtook me, and my actions were hardly mine any more. They were those of my soul," she said, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes. Sirius examined her.

"You know- there's nothing a good breakfast can't cure," he said playfully. She snorted.

"You would think that wouldn't you?" she responded in a similar manner to his. She opened her eyes, and stared at him expectantly. He looked confused.

"Well, aren't you going to help me up?" she asked him, eyebrow raised.

"My lady, please forgive me," he said, leaping to his feet. She put on a condescending air and took his hand, gracefully pulling herself off the floor. He retrieved her writing materials and put them in his school bag.

"Do you require an escort to the Great Hall?" he said, gallant charm pouring from his every word. She wiped away the last of her tears.

"I believe I do," she replied, smile now replacing her trouble look. Looping her arm through his, she pulled back the tapestry, and they started on their way.

AN: Hey. I know it's not long, but there's a follow-up. I didn't quite intend for this to be an emotional chapter, but I put myself in Hermione's position, and I mean, how could you go without a few good crying jags? She won't always be this weepy, but I couldn't just see her skipping through Hogwarts, happy as a lark without experiencing the emotional turbulence of losing her memory. This is her first day of school, so part two should be interesting. Please, tell me what you think! LHC