2006 Present
Her Harry disappeared again as the other Harry came back after he revealed a brief glimpse of his real feelings in the kitchen that first morning. The Harry whose face was expressionless, green eyes dark and watchful. When the day came for her first follow-up and counseling appointment, Hermione felt like she was some prisoner he was escorting about.
The healers had not wavered from their initial analysis, that her mind was too fragile for further magical intervention. As such, she was starting the first in a series of visits with a mind healer to try to help her recover the memories through more conventional methods.
When Harry had continued to follow behind her as she approached the healers' door from the waiting room, Hermione paused and turned to Harry. "I'd prefer to meet the healer alone."
His nostrils had flared and she could see the leap of temper in his eyes before he shuttered it, smoothly his emotions away. "Fine," Harry said evenly, going and sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, his legs kicked out as he leaned back, his eyes locked on her as if she might vanish.
His eyes felt like a weight as she turned her back to enter the counselors' room and closing the door behind her was a bit of a relief. She hadn't been sure how easily she would have been able to speak to the healer if Harry had insisted on joining her.
"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Potter." A familiar no nonsense voice greeted her and her eyes flew to the elderly man sitting near the far side of the small room. The healer looked almost the same as he had during her addiction counseling sessions with him.
"Healer Thomas!" Hermione started to rush forward before she stopped, glancing behind her to the closed door. "Does-does-"
"Does your husband know you've seen me before?"
Hermione nodded tensely. She couldn't imagine ever wanting Harry to know how weak she had been.
"I couldn't say-" Hermione inhaled sharply. "-but in my professional opinion, no."
"Why is that?"
"This isn't the first time we've seen each other since your addiction therapy concluded. We passed by each other a few days after your wedding made the papers."
"My wedding." Hermione repeated to herself quietly.
The healer's face was professional, but his eyes were kind as they kept her gaze. "You seemed very happy. Very…" The healer trailed off, trying to find the right description. "Settled, as if you had finally found what you needed. You saw me, but we didn't greet one another. My work is very private, so it would make sense that there would be no acknowledgment of our acquaintance in public."
"Because Harry didn't know." Hermione's gaze dropped from the clear blue eyes of the healer.
"Very likely."
"Do you think I'm weak because I didn't tell him? To hide it from him?"
"I would never make the error of thinking you are a weak witch, Mrs Potter. I know too much about your capabilities."
"Don't—" Hermione stopped herself from finishing her sentence. Swallowing the words as she went and sat in the big soft blue chair opposite the healers' desk. She lowered her head, her hands clenched on her knees.
The healer observed her shrewdly before asking, "Don't call you by your name?"
"It feels so strange. Wrong. Like…" Hermione's voice lowered, and she glanced briefly toward the door. "Like a betrayal."
"Have you talked with Mr. Weasley since you've woken up?"
"Harry doesn't —" Hermione cut herself off. "No, I haven't."
"I see."
"It's not Harry's fault. He thinks I'm his wife and he–he" Hermione stuttered to a halt, not even sure what the hell she was trying to say.
"Are you saying you would have never married him?"
"Of course not! He's — he's…" He was the secret dream she could barely even admit to herself. Hermione shot to her feet, pacing in front of the healer. "You don't understand. He doesn't want me. He doesn't even know about the—the — "
"Your addiction?"
Hermione swallowed hard, nodding as she continued to wear a trail into the floor, her arms wrapped around herself.
"Have you felt the urge to use again?"
"Is that why it's you?" Hermione countered, not answering, "Why you are here? They thought I would just — fall over myself — I would just—" Her voice wavered and she cut off, inhaling sharply.
"No." The healer said firmly. "My practice was absorbed into St Mungos as part of their expansion of services. When the medical team saw that we had a background from previous sessions, they offered me the opportunity to assist you further. If you feel uncomfortable, of course, I can get another healer. Your comfort and ability to talk openly in these sessions is my priority.
"You're in control, Hermione." Healer Thomas said after a silent pause.
Hermione's fingers dug into her arms. "I don't feel in control of anything. I don't remember anything. I don't know anything!" She could feel her breath quickening as panic spread through her.
Healer Thomas stood up and stepped in front of her frantic pacing, catching her upper arms. "When were born?"
"What?"
"When were you born?"
"September 19, 1979."
"What NEWTs did you take at Hogwarts?"
"Charms, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration."
"Impressive. Did you score an outstanding in all of them?"
Despite her panic, annoyance crossed Hermione's face. "You know I got an exceeds in Dark Arts."
"I do. And apparently, so do you." The healer squeezed her arms bracingly. "You will beat this, and you know why?"
Hermione gave the healer a small smile, knowing what he wanted from her. "Because I am in control and will overcome fear."
"That's right. Now let's make ourselves comfortable shall we?" The healer gestured to the blue chair while he went around to his desk, which was completely bare of items. He waited until she sat down before he continued. "Now I know there's quite a bit of deference given to your husband's preferences. However, I will intervene to arrange lodging elsewhere if you prefer?"
Hermione shook her head.
The healer waited to see if she would say anything further before continuing. "You looked happy with your husband in the pictures that made the paper and when I saw you last. That doesn't mean you are obligated to be happy with him now, considering you don't remember marrying him."
Hermione pressed her fingers against her temple, her gaze focused on the desk between them. "Harry was the center of my life for a long time. I was so fearful of losing him, especially during the war. He was always charging into danger."
"All three of you did, from what I recall from our sessions."
"No. Not like Harry. And now, I look at him and I know he's different now—that I was different. But there's this panic inside me that tells me something is wrong, that he's wrong. I keep expecting to see the Harry I know and he's gone.
"After the war, we kind of lost each other and grew apart, but he was still there. I still saw him. I still knew him. Now I've woken up, and he's somehow my husband, but it's like there's someone else in his place. He's so much the Harry I know sometimes, but sometimes…"
The healer waited, focused on her, and Hermione forced herself to continue.
"Sometimes it's like I don't know him and it makes me feel crazy. Scared … but angry too."
"Are you angry at him or yourself?"
"Both."
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2006 Present
The library she had helped Harry design in Grimmauld was beautiful. There were towering bookcases with ladders that stretched to the ceiling, hidden nooks, and windows higher than Hermione was tall. There were definitely some heavy-duty enchantments on the room, an expansion charm along with some interesting window charms. The library windows didn't face the street. In fact, there shouldn't be any windows because they would look into their neighbor's home. Yet the large windows showed the road in front of Grimmauld.
After Harry had shown her to the library, books had given her the excuse to avoid an awkward conversation between herself and her now husband. Harry had sat near her, watching her occasionally as she read through newspapers and books to catch up on five missing years.
Although he didn't talk to her about it, Harry had his own large stack of paperwork he worked steadily through when he wasn't watching her. He refused to answer questions about what he was reading, so Hermione really didn't feel too bad about ignoring him. Talking was a two-way activity, and from what she had seen, he wanted to interrogate her without giving her any information back.
Another two nights passed with Hermione barely sleeping and holing up in the library to keep her occupied and avoid talking to Harry when the lack of sleep and comfy chair finally managed to catch up with her.
Hermione was startled awake when a hand lay on her shoulder and would have fallen out of the armchair if Harry hadn't grabbed her. The enchanted lawbook she had on her lap fell to the floor with a loud thunk. As the Wizengamot passed laws, the enchanted text was updated. Hermione had been reading through the book to see how the laws had changed since she woke up. She already knew the law she had been working on passed.
Harry hadn't exactly been forthcoming on details, but the book seemed to indicate it had passed with a comfortable margin. That was surprising, especially some of the votes in favor.
Harry kept his hands on her until she moved subtly forward , dislodging them and he rested them on the back of her chair while she leaned forward to pick up the book.
"If you're having trouble sleeping, we can talk to the doctors about getting you something."
Hermione's tongue rubbed the roof of her mouth, thinking about the offer. Something. Maybe something like a Dreamless sleep potion. She swallowed hard, pushing away the thoughts of that purple potion. "No. I'm fine. I was just trying to catch up."
Hermione could feel his gaze on her, trying to figure her out. Good luck with that. Even she couldn't figure it out herself.
"I'm surprised you haven't asked about Crookshanks."
The name was a jolt. Shoot! How could she not have thought of him? Well, discovering she was married was maybe slightly distracting, but still... "Where is he?" she asked, twisting to face Harry again.
"Staying with Andromeda and Teddy."
"What? Why? Doesn't she already have her hands full—" Hermione cut herself off. Teddy wasn't three anyone more. Merlin. "Teddy's not three." She said out loud, more to herself, but Harry nodded.
"He's eight. He misses you."
Eight. In three years he'd be off to Hogwarts. That thought seemed so impossible. She just stared at Harry. Baby Teddy at Hogwarts.
"Do you want to go see him? Or I can bring him here?"
"I won't even recognize him." Her arms wrapped around herself tightly.
"We have pictures. I have an album I can show you first if you'd like."
You seemed very happy. Very settled, as if you had finally found what you needed.
The healer's words ran through her mind as she avoided looking at Harry behind her. It had been hard looking at those pictures the first night. Disorientating to see herself in those pictures when she had no memory of it.
Her world so far had been narrow, herself, Harry, and the healers. Was she ready for more people? Somehow it was easier to contemplate seeing Ron, someone who had been with her through the lowest point of her addiction.
"I'd like to see Ron first, if you don't mind."
Harry didn't move, but she could practically feel the electric current of his magic. Again he hid it, and his hand softly stroked her hair from where he stood behind the chair. A shiver ran through her body at his touch, and he pulled his hand away.
"I mind," Harry said gently.
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2001 Past
Hermione sat on a garden bench in the back of Grimmauld with Harry next to her. They were taking a brief respite after cleaning out a particularly large nest of spiders from the third floor. Harry had sheepishly admitted the last time he had gone up to the third floor had been two years ago. What should have been a small postage square stamp of a yard had been enchanted with an expansion charm to look like the vast manicured lawns of a country estate. The sky was a picture-perfect blue with white fluffy clouds lazily drifting by. The dappled light cast on them by the bright sunshine through the tree branches just made the scene even more surreal.
"I can't believe this was back here the whole time, and we never knew," Hermione said in awe of the scenic expanse.
"We were all a bit busy with other things."
"I would have spent my time out here rather than trying to teach Ron piano music if I had known." Why had she never gone to the backyard? Hermione paused, trying to remember how it had felt in Grimmauld during the war. Memories were slippery things.
Some of her memories of the war were so sharp, every detail and color vivid. The emotions she experienced just as viscerally biting years later. But other parts of what happened slipped away from her as if her mind refused to remember. With Harry sitting next to her, the warm press of his arm against her, the memory of them together near the end of the war kept trying to replay in crystal clarity in her mind's eye.
She remembered how long his hair had gotten, even messier than usual, sticking up haphazardly as he gazed up at her with shadows in his green eyes. He had been so thin, but it had just highlighted the strength of his lean frame, the tendons, and muscles flexing in his arms as he cradled her that night. Hermione rubbed the tips of her fingers together, trying to make the tactile memory go away.
"You wasted too much of your time on Ron. You deserve better than that, Hermione." Harry didn't look at her as he spoke, his eyes fixed on the far end of the garden.
"He tries–"
"Yeah. He tries." Harry's tone conveyed exactly what he thought of that. Her heart twisted a little at his tone. Harry didn't understand. Secrets had dug cracks into their friendship, but she didn't feel right telling Harry something that was Ron's secret to tell.
A breeze lifted her hair slightly, and she shifted uncomfortably. Harry's head finally turned to look at her, his eyes inspecting her expression minutely.
"Say what you're thinking."
Hermione shook her head, not willing to admit her thoughts. "I'm not thinking of anything."
"You're always thinking something, Hermione-" Harry cut off when there was the crack of an apparition and Kreacher appeared in front of them.
The short house-elf was hunched over, his spindly arms and legs looking like twigs on the verge of collapsing. His face was sullen as ever, but his eyes weren't quite so hateful or angry. "Does Master Potter want refreshments, then?"
Harry looked over at her, but she shook her head. "No, thank you, Kreacher."
Kreacher popped back out with a nod. Hermione chewed her lip, her eyes fixed on the place where Kreacher had appeared.
"Now I know you're definitely thinking something," Harry said, trying to lighten the mood.
She gave Harry a brief smile before her face turned serious again. "Have you asked Kreacher if he's lonely?"
"Ah. No. I've been a bit busy."
"Maybe you should."
"I somehow doubt Kreacher would answer that question in any useful manner."
"I saw him and Winky together at the—at Hogwarts." Hermione shifted, trying not to let other thoughts intrude, thinking too much of the war made her dream about it. She was doing fine on her own so far without Ron next to her, but she hadn't had any really violent dreams in a few weeks and wanted to keep that streak going.
"You think I should send him to visit Winky?" Harry watched Hermione shift uneasily as the conversation even hinted at the direction of the war. Hermione had always seemed so confident to him while they attended Hogwarts. Even during the war, she had been confident in her knowledge and her morals.
In the aftermath of the war, however, a different Hermione emerged. Now she was cautious, hesitant, and secretive. Fifteen-year-old Hermione had had no trouble demanding he join her cause with S.P.E.W, but twenty-one-year-old Hermione could barely ask him for help to get her legislation passed.
He should have said no that night in the tent. He had worried she would regret it, and she had as soon as she saw Ron's face.
It twisted inside him sometimes, that thought. He had wanted her so much. The way she had climbed on top of him, the determination in her eyes as she pleaded with him to make love to her. Of course. Of course, he had given in. Even though the outcome tormented him if he could go back–would he really do any different?
No. He'd have just stayed in bed with her and woken her up by making love to her again. Instead of being a fucking teenage dumbarse and going for a fucking walk!
Occlumency made it easier to keep his face neutral as he tried to keep his temper under control. The trainers he worked with had advised him repeatedly his temper was his greatest weakness because then he charged ahead like a blithering idiot according to them.
Ron's face flashed into his thoughts, and his hands gripped the edge of the bench tighter. Maybe it was a "who" that had changed Hermione so much.
Before that night in the tent with Hermione, it had been easier to let Ron's little fuck ups slide. Ron thought he was sly after the war, drinking on the job. The only reason Ron hadn't been fired was Gawain Robards hesitance to fire a war hero. Everyone had breathed a sigh of relief when he quit three weeks ago.
Hermione shrugged and spoke, bringing his mind back to their conversation about the house-elves. "Maybe it would help them both to have someone else?"
"Minnie told me she's doing better and not drinking as much butterbeer."
"That's good. I'm glad."
Hermione lapsed into silence again, gazing into the distance but focused inward. Harry felt his heart clench at the look on her face. She just wasn't happy, and he was determined to make her happy.
"Hermione." Harry waited until she looked at him, her gaze focused on him as she came back from whatever she was thinking of before. He raised his hand and tucked an errant curl behind her ear as he asked, "Tell me something."
Her lips curled up slightly. "Tell you what?"
Harry shrugged, the knot in his chest loosening slightly at the half smile on her face when she gazed at him. "Tell me what part of the house we should do next." He offered, not really caring, just wanting to hear her talking to him.
It was enough, though, because her smile widened. "What about the top floor? Maybe you could have your own astronomy tower where you can put those awful little pouf chairs and bring your girlfriend to–"
"I don't have a girlfriend."
Hermione paused, her lips parted. "Oh."
"I broke up with Bethany before you left the ministry."
"Oh," Hermione repeated inanely, staring at Harry. She reached over and laid her hand gently on his where he was holding the edge of the bench. "Are you okay?"
Harry let go of the bench and flipped his hand, threading his fingers through hers, his grip firm. There were so many things he wanted to say to that, but he swallowed it all, pacing himself. This time it was going to go right. "Yeah."
Her dark eyes searched his expression for secrets even while she hid her own from him. Harry squeezed her hand gently. "Could you do me a favor?"
"Anything."
His mouth kicked up at that. At least that hadn't changed. "Don't overthink it. I miss you. Can we just be together and not worry about other things?"
"Have we met?" Hermione asked teasingly. "That's quite a favor…"
Harry laughed, standing up and pulling her up to start leading her into the house. "Don't worry, I plan on keeping you very busy picking out all my decor…"
Hermione followed Harry back into Grimmauld with a faint smile on her face, her hand tightly clasped in his. It was a sweet feeling following where Harry led again, seeing the laughing gleam in his green eyes. They had been so serious for so long every time she gazed into them.
I missed you, Harry.
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2001 Past
One would think that magic would make renovations and snap. One would be very, very wrong. After a couple of months of renovations, they were finally just putting the finishing touches on the last room. The spell for the flooring had worked perfectly in all the other rooms. However, in the living room which was the largest and most square-shaped of the rooms, the wood planks had decided to rebel. Hermione laughed as Harry cursed under his breath as some pieces of flooring snapped into place crookedly. Two planks, rather than complying with the spell had instead adhered themselves high on the wall.
"Little arseholes, I'm going to turn you into ashes." Harry gritted, pulling at the planks stuck to the wall.
"At least we got Walburga's portrait off the wall." Hermione offered consolingly. "I can't believe you've had it up all this time while you've been living here."
"Eh." Harry gave up and just vanished the stubborn planks from the wall. "I enjoyed telling her I inherited everything she owned and how I am the most famous wizard in Britain."
"That seems…" Hermione trailed off, trying to find the exact word.
Harry turned and smirked at her before facing the pile of flooring again. "Cathartic."
"Really?"
"Mhmm." Harry arranged the planks once more, casting the flooring spell again. "I was really angry for a long time after—" Harry stopped, realizing what he was confessing when the room suddenly seemed a bit more still.
"What were you angry about?" Hermione asked, her gaze focused on the house renovation charms book in her hands.
You. Ron. Life.
"A lot of things." Harry finally responded vaguely. "I've worked with the MLE trainers to help me get a better handle on my emotional responses, as it was affecting my performance and magic."
Hermione still hadn't looked up at Harry, flipping the pages as if she was searching for something in the book.
"Hermione, look."
She glanced up to see the planks had laid themselves neatly into the marked grooves on the floor. The cheery gleam of the honey maple wood gave the entire room a brighter feel. "Ah! This looks great!"
"Yeah, you picked out a good color."
" We picked out a wonderful color." She corrected even though Harry hadn't seemed to care about the color of the flooring.
"Uh-huh," Harry said with a smile, stepping closer to her. "We should do something to celebrate finishing this room. What about a drink?"
The image of the deep swirling purple color of dreamless sleep flashed into Hermione's mind and she shook her head sharply. She could practically taste the smooth liquid, so thin and airy it almost felt like nothing until it hit her belly and spread through her body. Hermione swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the memory. "I should go. It's late."
Hermione walked over to the small table in front of the sofa to put down the house charms book they had been using. Her hand shook as she reached out to place the book on the table and she missed the table. The book fell to the floor with a loud smack.
"Sorry." She muttered as she bent to pick it up, but Harry was suddenly next to her, his hand grasping her wrist, stopping her.
Hermione met his eyes and couldn't look away as Harry pulled her closer, leaving the book on the floor. His hand tilted her chin toward him.
"No, I'm sorry." He whispered, searching her eyes deeply.
"For what?"
"For upsetting you."
Hermione wanted to look away, to hide the vulnerability that she still felt sometimes when she was reminded of her addiction. But there was such a fierce need in Harry's expression, she found she couldn't look away from his gaze. "You didn't upset me."
"Then why are you running away?"
"I'm—I'm—"
Harry shifted, not releasing her, his body so close she could feel the warmth of him. "I don't have any more excuses to keep you here, Hermione. Not if you want to run away."
"I don't want to run away." She paused, giving a shaky smile, trying to get her composure back. "I don't even want to leave, Harry. I missed being with you."
"Then don't leave. Stay with me. Move in with me." Her eyes widened as Harry slid his thumb along her cheek affectionately. "We've stayed at Grimmauld together before, and now it's exactly how you like it. There's plenty of room here."
"What would we tell everyone? They would talk."
" They can go fuck themselves."
Hermione laughed, her arms coming up to rest lightly on his forearms. "What about Crookshanks?"
"I believe Crookshanks adores me. Thank you very much."
"He does."
Harry leaned forward, his forehead pressing against hers. "I don't want to be missing you in my life anymore, Hermione. Please?"
Hermione closed her eyes, feeling excitement and fear running through her in equal measure. She remembered Ron's question.
When you dream, Hermione — who is it always about?
It had always been Harry. "Okay." She sucked in a deep breath. "If you're sure?"
"Look at me, Hermione."
Hermione opened her eyes and pulled back to look at him, so close to her, biting her lip nervously.
Harry smiled, and his hand moved, tugging her bottom lip out of her mouth. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. And everything is going to be okay. I promise."
The fear receded somewhat, staring into his confident eyes, and she smiled again, a little wider than before. "Okay, let's move in together."
Harry released her, moving towards the entryway to grab his cloak.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked curiously.
"I'm going with you to get your stuff." Harry pulled on his coat and held out his hand for her, palm up, waiting.
Hermione slid her hand into his, and Harry grasped her hand tightly. "Don't you trust me?"
"Of course," Harry said truthfully, as he tugged her along. He just wasn't a dumb teenager to let the one person he wanted above all others walk away from him again.
This time things were going to go right, he promised himself again.
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A/N :
So after a more painful rework than I anticipated of the plot, I think I finally feel happy with the direction I'm going to take it. I know some people may get upset with where we are going, and may not like that Hermione struggled.
But Hermione and Ron (in my opinion) weren't nearly as tough or battle-hardened as Harry with his experiences moving past traumatic events and the tumultuousness of his life. I can also see Hermione with how much she values Harry and is more cautious about letting Harry see her failures as opposed to Ron whose relationship developed differently. Let's see if I can keep you, readers, along with me! The next chapter is just waiting for edits, so I can promise an update on this one, and Matched next Sunday definitely. I'm trying to also get Remedy in there too, but we're meeting Hermione's parents ... and woah boy. It's a bit difficult of a scene to write so we will see.