It's quite late into the night. I know I will wake him up, but this is too important and must be done while Harry is asleep.
I have to call his name loudly more than once before, much agitated, he appears in the room, eyes puffy for the abrupt awakening, wearing only a t-shirt and some pants, all white. It seems he is always wearing something white or other, I don't think I have ever seen him wearing something bright coloured or black. I wonder why.
He was a lovely child, sweet, quiet and curious. Ron, like me, spent many hours to amuse him. I know he has an observing nature; he had always understood how our relationship was a hopeless one but even in his adulthood he never mentioned it.
'What's wrong? Shall I come there?' he addressed me with furred tongue, much agitated 'Shit! I left my wand in my room' he blorts out still confused patting his body as if looking for it.
'Don't worry, you don't need to come here' I reassure him 'It's everything fine' I add to calm his fidgeting but then, realising how very little fine the whole situation is, I continue 'Actually, it's not fine at all but nothing death threatening'
'Wait a sec'
He grasps a blanket from an armchair, wears it around his shoulders and sits on the kitchen rug, legs crossed, ready to listen.
I explain to him about, what it clearly is, a case of serious memory loss.
He rubs his face worriedly 'Ok, right' he only says going to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water and returning in front of the fire with it 'So, didn't he seem to know how old he is?' he asks taking a gulp.
'Nor that he has got kids and overall, he doesn't remember about Ginny'
His hair is lengthening by the minute which tells me he is in deep meditation 'Ok….' He murmurs pensively 'Ok… I want to see him. I need to talk to him. But before that I want to know it all. You have to explain me everything that happened since you got there. In details.'
And I start to recount trying to be as precise as possible. When I mention the sleeping potions he frowns 'I had my suspicions on that regard. How many do you think has he got?' he asks stern slipping in his healer role in a second.
'I don't know. Ten? A bit more? There were some empty vials scattered around. It is not the only altering substance he took' and I carry on explaining about alcohol and drugs. There, I need to give him a whole picture of the nature of the muggle drug he used. Ted is not very prepared on it and neither I am to be truly honest. I know what it is and how it works because obviously I grew up between muggles but I'm not an expert. I'm anyway able to give him a rough idea of what we are talking of since he has no way to know not even that little.
'Do you think has it got to do with it?'
'I doubt it. I don't think it is caused only by one thing but more probably from a mix of different factors. Sleeping potions mostly. So many in such short time… No wonder he never answered to the door, he must have been asleep most of the time… and let's not forget he endured many Cruciatus as well. Not even the healer has been able to discern how many. It's already a miracle his brain hasn't been reduced to a pulp' he mutters darkly and then, out of the blue 'When did you start to have sex with him?'
I blush furiously 'Does it make any difference?' I answer sheepishly.
'It may help me to understand' he explains undaunted like if only asking when the last time is I got my vitamins.
'The day you came for his head'
'But he doesn't mention it, right?'
'Not directly, no'
'Does he call you by your name? Does he know who you are?'
'Yes, I believe so, despite sometimes I'm afraid he makes some confusion' and I explain him about the last incidents.
He takes a pensive demeanour and place the empty glass on the floor beside him.
'I'll come tomorrow for lunch' he adds assured in the end 'Go to sleep. Tomorrow I'll talk to him and then we will decide how to proceed. Don't worry, we will find a way to deal with it'.
I withdraw my head from the fire asking myself which one is the adult between the two.

It's eleven thirty. I didn't inform Harry about Ted coming, I didn't want to run the risk of him opposing to the scheme. We spent the morning out running and working out and he is in a cheerful mood, but I'm not fooled by it anymore. It's not a case of recovery but only a mind blank.
He is sitting on the sofa next to me while I'm pretending to be absorbed by a book while I feel my inside squirming as if a bundle of slithering snakes, when a swish and a hoot inform me that Ted is here. I see Harry frowning surprised by this unexpected visit as he leaves the sofa to check who's there. I follow straight away curious to see how the encounter will unravel.
'Alright, Harry?' Ted asks with a bright smile brushing away some cinders from the discoloured jeans.
I see Harry's brows knitting together as if wondering something but when Ted, with a beam, stare fixedly into his eyes, he relaxes approaching him friendly 'Hey Ted! Nice to see you.' He says patting him on the shoulder 'What brings you here?'
'Just thought to pop in for a chat' he says brightly.
I greet him with a kiss to which he responds warmly and send me a shifty glance I understand straight away.
'I'll leave you two to chat. Don't take it bad Ted but I'm reading a very interesting book and I'd like to keep going' I say all sweetly and fluttering.
'Not at all' Ted answers with the same affected cheerfulness and lightness.
I close the door on them, and I press my ear immediately against it. Shame I haven't got some extendable ears with me. Probably I would find them in the kids' room, but I don't want to lose not even a second of this conversation.
Perhaps I shouldn't eavesdrop, but this knowledge doesn't stop me.
Harry is asking him 'Do you stay for lunch? We are having some chicken, I believe…' but then he hesitates a second as if unsure 'You don't eat meat though. Don't you?'
'Right.' He says brightly.
'No problem, we can cook something else'
'Thank you. You know, I never told you, it's funny, I actually stopped eating meat when I found out my dad was a werewolf. I guess my childish mind wanted to prove I was not one' He chuckles while explaining that much that surprise me greatly. It's the first time I hear him recounting it.
'So then, since we ascertained you have definitely not any werewolf's tendencies, you could start again. It's always such a pain in the arse when you come for dinner.'
Ted sniggers 'I think I won't anyway. It kind of characterise me, don't you think?'
'That may surely be but it's still a hassle for Hermione. However, she never complained so I guess she doesn't mind'
The chill on my back is soaring steadily.
'Do you mean when I come here for dinner?'
'Well, yeah. You are here quite often. Sometimes I feel a vegetarian too as a matter of fact'
A small pause follows but it's so short Harry doesn't even notice that fleeting hesitation.
'It surely wouldn't hurt you' Ted continues blithely 'So, how are you doing? Up to much lately?'
'It's fine. Just me and Hermione, nothing special. The usual. We are having walks time to time. I'm glad we decided to spend our holiday here instead of going somewhere else. It's relaxing.'
'I see…' Ted mumbles and I can hear the hesitation growing marked. On the other side of the door my fright is so enhanced I can barely breath. What is he talking about? What holiday?
'Since you mentioned it, there was something I meant to ask you about Hermione…'
And, just as my attention and morbid curiosity is reaching its zenith, I cannot hear anything else but a slow steady buzz. The cheeky whippersnapper! Harry should never have taught him the Muffiato spell!

It's one o'clock at night. I'm in front of the fireplace. After lunch, before to go, Ted told me he was about to call me at this hour. Harry is sleeping. Lunch has been ok, Ted talked a lot and asked a lot, Harry talked less and answered to his questions, carefully planned I believe, to understand the extent of the problem. And by the glances we shot occasionally to each other I guess the extent of the problem is pretty clear to both of us.
With a pop Ted's head is there and I'm ready to receive my instruction.
'Hermione, the situation is serious and delicate' he says as a preamble. 'I don't know if you noticed but I think he forgot all about Voldemort as well. Actually, I think he remembers very little in general. He lives in a kind of personal delusion. He is slowly creating a whole new confused parallel life that has nothing to do with reality.'
Yes, I had exactly the same feeling. And every passing day is getting worse.
'We must try to bring back his memory but very cautiously, by degrees, otherwise the shock may prove to be too great.'
So, these are my instructions:

Give him a routine. Everyday waking up at the same hour, outdoor activities if possible.

Informing George of what's happening and ask him every day to pop in for a chat. Ted is going to do the same.

Not mentioning Ginny or the kids for the moment.

Let's bring back his memory step by step talking.

Ok, that's the jest of what he told me and seems everything feasible and rational.
But then he adds
'He is very confused. And all this mixing with you is confusing him even more. He is slowly replacing you from friend to a surrogate wife and this must not happen. Therefore, stop having sex with him, you shouldn't share his bed and you should start to leave him alone time to time. Go and have a walk, go to the Burrow, to your parents, anywhere. Start with small walk and lengthen them day after day'
And this, I know is not going to be neither feasible nor easy. I tell him so. I explain him about his dread to sleep alone, how he begs me to sleep close to him and how is keeping asking him not to leave him.
What I don't explain is that I know I won't be able to. I'm totally incapable to deny anything he asks me, that I'm helpless and weak any time he looks for me, that I'm deliriously happy every single time and at the same time I feel devastated by the fact that it has all been under either denial or delusion.
Ted is now stern though.
'Hermione, what are you planning to do? This is not healthy! He has got sons and a daughter, he used to have a wife who is not you. What you are secretly nurturing it's wrong and cannot be. You have a husband too and kids and you will have to return to them eventually. Are you in denial too?'
What can I say? He is right. But how can I refuse him knowing than any may be the last? This is never going to work.

I called George who, obviously, was quite awake toying with some dangerous classified object or other, I don't want to know what, I turn a blind eye. I explained him Harry's situation. He was aghast.
'Holy shit!' he exclaimed 'Doesn't he remember Ginny? Like at all?'
'No, not a glimmer of a memory. And don't talk about her either. We need to go slowly'
'Ok, ok… I'll come tomorrow. This is really messed up'
Silence from my part. Yes, this is really messed up.
Silence from his part. Studious glare.
'You are not sleeping with him, are you?'
Oh, for god's sake! Have I got written "I'm sleeping with Harry Potter" on my front?

I decide that if I must stop to sleep in the same bed as him, I may as well as do it now. But with such heavy heart I take that decision.
I ought to make myself violence to go up that flight of stairs thinking that I'm letting go of the only opportunity in my life to savour the joy of tenderness and sharing and that it will never happen again once home.
I'll return to Ron's coldness and lack of attention, to a loneliness of mind and spirit.
When I lay in James' bed I feel as forlorn as ever in my life. Never felt lonelier and more dejected knowing he is there so close to me but so far, unreachable.
It's the same as, when Ginny was alive, I slept over here, in the same bed, with almost the same feelings.
I knew he was there; I knew he was hugging Ginny; I knew they would kiss and perhaps make love and it was torturing. Every time I felt shattering, but I would accept when asked anyway with a masochistic joy, contenting myself of the crumbles, of everything I could get. The chats before going to bed (Ginny was always going much sooner than us), seeing him in the morning all sleepy smiling at me, he who made me a coffee and drinking it together sharing the same newspaper, so close our arms were brushing.
I have always been such a fool. A hopeless fool.
The worst pang of sufferance in my life I had it because of him like all the ephemeral and dim joys.
And now I'm lying here, and I don't know if I was suffering more then, knowing he was just a room away and I couldn't have him, or now that he is just downstair and I could have him, but I must not.
I feel so miserable I cannot hold back my tears and I can barely keep myself from whimpering.
I don't know how long I spend there trying unsuccessfully to stifle my sobbing. I only know that after a while Harry is in the room looking at me crouched on myself.
He doesn't say anything, he slips under the duvet close to me in a bed that is barely big enough for one and he holds me tightly. I really broke down then in painful sobs because I love him so much it tears me apart, because I love being in his arms and it feels perfect, it feels right and it's neither perfect nor right and I don't want to return to Ron, I want to stay here in his arms forever. I want him never to wake up from his delusion so I can indulge in mine, and we can enjoy this perfect moment where I can love him, and he is barely aware that he never really loved me.
And he shushes me and kiss my head. He doesn't ask me the reason of my distress and, eventually, lulled by the warmth of his body, consoled by the gentleness of his caresses, I must have fallen asleep in his embrace because when I wake up in the morning I'm still there, all the sufferance of the night magically gone as if never existed.

Ted, you are asking the impossible from me. I want to drink from this cup until the last drop.