Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own the Harry Potter series, I do not. The characters and most of the setting belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling and I am not trying to steal her work. The only thing that is mine is the plot.

AN: Well, as you can tell, I am going to be updating this story a lot. I am new to this and I'm kind of addicted. So there won't be much of a wait between chapters for a while. Also, if you would like to leave a comment about this story, it would be greatly appreciated (I live for comments). I don't mind if they are good or bad and I really want you guys to tell me if you think the plot should go a certain way. I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this story and I would like to have your help since I'm writing this for all of you.

Many Questions, Few Answers

(Hermione's POV)

The wait seemed to go on forever and Hermione's body began to relax. Her back sank into the mattress and her shoulders dropped. Just as she was losing herself to sleep, she came to her senses. She bolted upward so strongly that she jostled the bed. She did not want to live that dream over again. It was already so vivid and etched into her mind that she didn't think she would ever need a reminder of anything that happened in it.

Hermione began to worry about that red haired man; he had been gone for quite some time now. She didn't understand why, but she felt needy of him. All she knew was that his presence meant comfort.

As if he had heard her thoughts, his flaming head popped into the room and said, "'Mione, the doctor is coming and once he is done, I have some people that want a word with you."

She heard what he had said but it took a few moments to process it since she had been marveling at how relieving he could be by simply poking his head through the door. Once it sunk in that others would be coming to confuse her even more, her expression fell. Her face was lit up once more when she finally noticed what the man was carrying. He had a copy of the newspaper. Her hands automatically reached for it and she realized that the carrier hadn't come out of the doorway yet.

"Did you bring that for me?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to ask for it incase he brought it for himself.

"What? Oh, right, yea. I did," he spluttered as if he had just woken out of a captivating daydream. He made his way to her bedside and the fluttering in her stomach did not cease when he sat on the edge of her bed. With the newspaper held out to her, he said, "Here, it's today's Daily Prophet."

Hermione did not question the odd, moving pictures on the newspaper; she must still be dizzy. After she had taken it and glanced down on the cover story, Hermione realized that it was not her symptoms making the little people in the pictures move around. How was that even possible? The last time she had read a newspaper, the pictures were stationary and boring, certainly not alive. Maybe she had been asleep so long that moving pictures had been invented.

Before she could ask how long she was unconscious for, greedy hands grabbed the reading material from her. The person that had taken the oddity from her grasp turned on the spot toward the bright haired man. "Mr. Weasley!" he yelled, "You should have contacted me as soon as my patient woke up! There must be twenty people in the waiting room asking to see Miss Granger! I did not approve of visitors! This is a complete-"

Hermione was not able to hear what this situation was completely though because the young man began to defend himself. He towered over the doctor, almost a foot taller, and the little man took a step backward. "I don't need your permission to call my own bloody family! They have been worried about Hermione and that's more than I can say about you! All you care about is your bleedin' paycheck! Now shut it and check on her!" he bellowed, pointing his finger at her. Hermione was taken aback by his fowl language and the way he defended her. His eyes had such dark circles under them that he must not have slept for days. Hermione wondered if his lack of sleep had something to do with her. She suddenly felt an odd want to hold him in thanks. She wanted to thank him for being there when she woke up and staying when she barely knew him.

The doctor acted as if he would've liked to argue, but cleared his throat and calmly replied instead. "Fine, I will take a look at the patient now sir," he spat the last word and Hermione felt it took a lot from him to not shout.

The short, black haired doctor walked over so that he was looming over her body. He was so close that she could smell coffee from his breath and see the individual hairs in his moustache. She backed up a little, not wanting to be this close to a man she just met. The doctor pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and flashed it in Hermione's eyes. She shut her eyes from the unwelcome ray of light until she was asked to keep them open. Grudgingly, she opened her eyes and kept still even though her eyes were well past watering.

Finally, the little man stopped flashing the light and began to quiz her. "Do you know who you are?" he asked, his tone indicating that he did not expect her to answer correctly.

This man thinks I'm daft, she thought to herself. I know I'm tired and still half asleep, but I know my own name for goodness sakes.

"Hermione Granger," she stated in a know it all voice, as if to say "why are you asking this, it is obvious I know." Many different expressions were in the room. Hermione looked offended that a doctor was asking her preschool level questions, the doctor looked astonished that she knew the answer to such an easy question- this look seemed familiar, maybe she got it at school a lot or something -, and the red head looked like he had never been this proud. His pride emanated from him and made Hermione blush.

"Good job miss. Now, where are you?" the doctor asked, a little more hopeful this time.

Sadly, Hermione couldn't impress them with her knowledge once more. She honestly didn't know. Well, she knew she was in some type of hospital, but which one was a complete mystery to her. An even bigger mystery was why she was here.

"I don't know," she whispered. Her heart fell when the pride was wiped from her visitor's face and was replaced by anguish. He looked so defeated and she hated herself for being the cause of it. How was she supposed to know the answer though?

"You, my dear, are in Saint Mungo's hospital," was all the doctor told her.

She felt that he could've said something much more helpful so she could not contain from saying, louder than needed, "Well, thank you for that piece of information but I would rather like to know why I'm here. I would like to be the one asking the questions and I believe I should be, since I'm the one who woke up in a strange room and can't remember anything." With her arms crossed and her lips pursed, she stared at the two men in her room, hoping to make them answer her question.

"That is exactly why you are here. You can't remember anything from age ten until now. You lost your memory when a curse hit you and we need to know how much you remember. Now if you please, tell us what you know about yourself."

This was a very difficult question for Hermione since she didn't really know much. "Umm… well I know I have a mom and dad that live in Britain with me. I love reading more than anything. I think I'm… magic. Wait, I'm sorry, that's crazy. Things like that don't exist. I think if you would let me think for a while, I might be able to remember something else," she said, staring at the white wall in front of her so she wouldn't see the shocked looks of everybody when they realized she thought she was magic. They would throw her into a mental hospital for sure now. Quickly, she stuttered, "I-I'm not crazy. I-I swear. I'm just confused."

She chanced a glance at the doctor and to her amazement, he was smiling. He was smiling at her insanity. What he said next made her wonder if he was the crazy one though. "You are a witch my dear. We didn't know if you would remember it. You're actually a very good witch, very powerful. At some point, we would like to see how powerful you still are."

Wait, she thought, is he saying that I'm not crazy? I really am a witch? Ok Hermione, just go along with it and you'll find somebody who isn't mentally deranged later.

"You remember more than we expected you to, but you certainly don't remember much. Mr. Weasley, I'll let you talk to her alone. People seem to think she will know you still. Contact me after the family has visited with her and we can discuss how long she needs to stay here," the doctor said, clearly happier now than he was when he first came in.

"Thank you Dr. Harrison, I will," the Weasley man said.

Hermione became rather annoyed at the both of them. They were talking about her as if she couldn't hear. She might be a little confused, it was early after all, but she was not stupid. She could still hear the both of them. As soon as Dr. Harrison left the room, she spat at the boy, "I am not daft! I can hear you still so don't talk like I'm not here. I should be a part of the discussion since I'm the one you're talking about."

A smile broke into the man's face and this did nothing to lessen the confusion Hermione was feeling. He whispered more to himself than to her, "You have no idea how scared I was that I wouldn't hear you get mad at me anymore." He smiled even more and Hermione's agitation melted away.

"That's absolutely daft of you to miss arguing. You're supposed to miss happy things," she said matter-of-factly.

He chuckled and said, "Yes, I know. You like to argue with me too though," his smile broke when he said this and when he continued, all hints of happiness were gone, "Well, you used to…"

For the second time that morning, she hated herself for hurting him. She wanted nothing more than to apologize and be forgiven. She knew that at this moment, arguing was the last thing she wanted to do. Hermione did not voice this opinion incase it would hurt him even more.

"Err… I guess I should tell you about me now…" he began, "I'm Ron Weasley and I've known you since I was eleven. We went to wizarding school together and we… um… traveled abroad in our final year with Harry Potter."

She knew he wanted to say more but she was thankful that he didn't. She actually didn't really hear anything after he said his name. This was the Ron in her dream, the one that wouldn't leave her alone, even when she was unconscious. Hermione was dying to ask about the dream and spill her heart out to this man, but she knew this was neither the time nor the place to do so.

Hermione was at a loss for words- something that was becoming more and more common lately- and only thought of one thing to ask. "Who has come to visit me?" was her question.

"My family, your family, and Harry Potter," Ron said, as if she knew who all those people were.

"Hey, you can come in now! I know you've been listening!" he bellowed. For one awkward moment she thought he was yelling at her. Before she could accuse him of being off his rocker though, a sea of orange flooded into her room.

There must have been at least 10 people crowded around her little hospital bed. On her right, was a teenage, redheaded girl that was staring at her very intensely, like she was trying to read her expression to the fullest.

So many redheaded men of scattered ages talked in deep voices all around her. The tallest had a pony tail that a plump woman was trying to snip at with scissors. A boy with horn-rimmed glasses was defending the tallest from the woman with a charm from his wand as well as vocabulary that would astonish even a college professor. If this occurred under any other circumstances, Hermione would've burst out laughing at the comical scene before her, but she was much too confused to think of the situation as funny now.

There was also an adult with muscled arms and scars that he was obviously not trying to hide since he had a tight muscle shirt on. The oldest of them all- he might have been around 50 years old-, was reading the daily prophet that the doctor had thrown to the floor earlier that day. The last redhead seemed to not quite fit in with the others. He was staring out the window with remorse written across his face. This boy looked so much like the rest of the family but acted distant from them. Her heart went out to this outsider but she knew nothing to say to cheer him up- she had just met him after all.

On her left were the only two people she recognized- her mother and father. They were holding hands and looking at her with worried glances. They looked so relieved when she smiled up at them in a way that said "I'm ok, I'm confused, but ok."

Lastly, there was a black haired boy with bright green eyes. His eyes were made brighter by his glasses. These eyes glanced from Hermione to the girl on Hermione's right. He seemed to want to talk to Hermione but was drawn to the other girl like iron to a magnet.

All this information was being shoved into Hermione's head so quickly and she searched for the one thing that seemed real- Ron. He was nowhere to be seen though. He had left during all the chaos. He had left her without an explanation, with all these strangers.