When Hermione finally awoke from her groggy mindset it was to Ron standing over her, giving her a severe look. The sight of him there, looking to her so seriously caused tears to well in her eyes immediately. She sat up briskly, her eyes never leaving his.

"Ron," she blubbered, pulling him into a desperate hug that surprised them both. "It's so good to see you. I was so scared."

Ron returned the hug emphatically, feeling idiotic for coming to see her in such a huff. Just having her in his arms feel right and safe. And she was trembling in his arms, obviously still out of sorts. A pang of regret went through him, followed quickly by guilt.

"How are you feeling?" Ron sat at the edge of the bed, holding her right hand in his. She wiped her damp eyes with the back of her left hand and forced a watery smile on her face.

"Completely knackered and terrified."

"Terrified?"

"I don't know what's changed here," Hermione said slowly, not wanting to even speak Severus' name aloud. "But I know things aren't the same as we left. The only thing I do know is that it's September and that we all survived coming back."

Ron looked at her as if she'd said something monumental, his normally animated face rather drawn and serious.

"Things have gone absolutely pear shaped," Ron said simply, his tone serious. "Before you woke up, I was on my way up from the Great Hall and ran into Professor Flitwick. I asked him about the potion Slughorn made and he got all twitchy and looked at me like I was a total pillock. Then he told me that Slughorn didn't see the end of the final battle and that I should see Madame Pomfrey because I was obviously ill."

"What!?" Hermione's eyes were wide, blinking rapidly. How was this possible? Slughorn was dead? And Severus alive? Harry had some strange scar up his arm that they claimed he'd always had?

All of a sudden the information seemed to be seeping into her brain, affixing itself to her memories like a strange parasite. The scar, Slughorn's death, it was all seeming to appear foreign and familiar all at once, giving her a splitting headache.

"It's strange," Ron said before she could interject further. "I know they've changed but suddenly I can remember it like it actually happened. Almost like I've been living my life wrong all this time."

"I know what you mean," Hermione agreed with a slow shake off her head. "It's like living two lives. One before we went back in time and now this. It's like they're melting into one another. I suppose it's a side effect of the time travel."

The two grew quiet, looking solemnly to the blankets over Hermione's lap. It seemed so isolating to be in a future that only they knew. How would they ever catch up? Would they forever be bumping into people, events, moments that were utterly foreign? How much had truly changed?

"I wonder if I'll even be able to pass my NEWTS now," Hermione said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "What if everything is messed about? How will I pass if I remember the wrong things?"

Ron gave a barking laugh which surprised them both. Hermione looked to see Ron shaking his head incredulously at her.

"You're utterly mad," he said with a large smile. "The world changes and all you can be arsed to care about is whether you're going to do well on your NEWTS."

"My NEWTS are important!" Hermione defended with a small giggle.

"Ah, well it's good to know not everything is changed," Ron said with a laugh. The two lapsed from small giggles into silence once more before looking at the empty space between them, contemplative.

"I can see why you mustn't mess about with time travel," Hermione said hollowly. "Because only the travelers know what happened. When you come back to the future, it's the future everyone else knows. It's like forever living as an outsider."

"Well at least we experienced it together," Ron said warmly, squeezing her hand gently and giving her a small smile. "Plus Harry. At least the three of us will remember together. It's always been us against the world, eh? Why should now be any different?"

Hermione cast a grateful look up to Ron, about to reply that he was wonderful when she felt his mouth cover hers. It was quick and a bit wet, but it was gentle and comforting and she was still too tired to do much more than acquiesce.

"I missed you," he told her gently as he pulled back. "I was so worried I'd never see you again."

Hermione smiled weakly, unable to say anything more when Madame Pomfrey opened the curtains around the bed and popped her head in.

"Mister Weasley, I told you, Miss Granger needs to sleep as much as possible. Out with you!"

Ron flashed a boyish smile in Hermione's direction before pressing a quick kiss to her temple and rushing out of the infirmary. Pomfrey shook her head in a most frustrated manner and drew over to Hermione's still sitting up in bed.

"Here you are," Pomfrey said handing the girl a small brown phial. "Something to help with the fatigue. A fairly normal side effect, don't you worry. You'll be as right as rain in a few days."

"And Harry?"

"I'm afraid Mister Potter has been moved to Saint Mungo's."

"What?" Hermione nearly leapt out of the bed in horror.

"He is no longer a student of Hogwarts and is therefore not under my care," Pomfrey explained pragmatically, pushing Hermione gently back to her seated position in the bed. "I ensured that he was in a stable condition before the staff came to retrieve him. Don't worry, he's under a pseudonym in the best and most private room they have. He will not be disturbed."

"I'm not worried about him being disturbed!" Hermione insisted, her cheeks reddening with frustration. "I'm worried about him being alright!"

"I wouldn't worry yourself," Pomfrey soothed with a knowing smile. "Returning from deep time travel can be a very tricky thing. Some bounce back immediately, while others need a bit longer."

"But how long do you think until he's awake?" Hermione demanded, wanting nothing more than to speak to the one other person who had truly experienced the past as she had. Save for Malfoy of course, but she had no desire to see him ever again.

"In my medical periodicals I believe the longest time to return to a normal, conscious state was three months. And considering the years you all traveled I'm hardly surprised that he's taking a long while than normal to come back to us. I conferred with the Healers at St. Mungo's and they were in agreement, especially due to the emotional component of your time there."

This explanation satisfied Hermione for the moment, but her mind still whirred. Harry was in St. Mungo's, Slughorn was dead, Snape was alive… What else had changed? She needed to do some serious investigative work into this 'new' future of hers.

"Do you think I might have the Daily Prophet for the last six months or so?" Hermione asked, looking to Pomfrey with a hopeful look. The woman was tucking her blankets in and attempting to fluff the pillow behind her head.

"If you promise to drink that," Pomfrey indicated to the phial in the girl's hand. "I will ensure you have them when you wake up."

Hermione nodded politely before tipping back the drink into her mouth. It scorched a fiery trail down her throat and into her belly. It seemed to invigorate her from the inside out but also tasted faintly of flowers and seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth.

"I've never heard of this potion," Hermione said, forever the inquisitive student as she held the phial up to the light, noticing the flecks of what seemed like asphodel root at the bottom.

"One of Professor Snape's latest inventions," Pomfrey said off-handedly as she continued to tuck the girl's blankets in.

She started when the empty phial tumbled from Hermione's hand and onto the floor with a smash.

Chapter 31

Still situated in the hospital bed of the infirmary, Hermione spread out the litany of newspapers on her lap. All had been shrunk down the size of a two pence. She had been reading for hours and during this, she had found so much information on the last six months that her mind was whirring.

Rita Skeeter's article only a few hours after the final battle had been illuminating and extremely helpful. Likely the only time the horrible woman had ever made life easier for Hermione.

The final battle had happened in much the same way as she remembered. The only difference was that an unnamed death eater had managed to hit Harry with a sectum sempra, causing the boy's scar. Sprout had been in the midst of fighting a tall dark wizard and had her pinky finger had been hexed clean off. She showcased it proudly for the newspaper, citing that a pinky was a small price to pay for the fate of wizarding-kind.

A paper from days later had detailed that Horace Slughorn had been taken down by several hexes during the war and died surrounded by his many admirers in St Mungo's a week later. His funeral had been massive, flowers from all over the world had littered the room and with a variety of effusive praises from individuals of all manner of celebrity during the ceremony. It was a service that would have suited none other than Horace Slughorn.

"He would have loved that," Hermione said to herself, wiping the tears from her cheek. So far this had been the hardest thing for her to read. Knowing that this sweet man was no longer walking about, running his beloved parties caused her heart to clench. A part of her recalled McGonnagal's warning in her third year.

"You understand the danger of time travel, Miss Granger?"

"Yes ma'am." Hermione had been nodding eagerly, her dark eyes on the time Turner in the box before her. "I read all the literature from the Ministry."

"And I will reiterate that you must only go to your classes," Minerva said strictly. "Nothing more. No trips around Hogsmeade. No extra lie-ins. Any diversion from your schedule will result in punishment and possibly expulsion."

"Of course, Professor."

"Time demands fairness," McGonagall added in a strange voice. "And as with all things, time will eventually come to collect."

"Fairness?" Her fourteen year old self had asked. This hasn't been a part of her ministry-instructed reading when applying for the time Turner. Fairness being attributed to something as abstract as time had her puzzled.

"Yes fairness. Time can be a brutal thing," McGonagall explained her thin mouth growing tense. "Greedy and demanding. But it demands recompense. If you take from it, it will take back."

"I don't understand," Hermione had admitted, her cheeks flushing from the admission. She didn't enjoy being uneducated in anything, especially in front of her Head of House. But McGonagall had done nothing other than shake her head.

"I pray you never will, Miss Granger."

Now sitting there surrounded by papers Hermione realized the wisdom in McGonagall's words.

Ron sat at the side of Harry's in Saint Mungo's, his blue eyes bleary. He hadn't felt right being at Hogwarts, stuck with all those peering faces. All wanting an autograph or the first years wanting to hear firsthand how frightening Voldemort was.

It was bloody annoying and Ron decided he would rather hole up here with Harry in his private room than risk being surrounded by flashbulbs and eager questioning from all who saw him. He knew Rita Skeeter had heard that Harry was in hospital, but thankfully the wards had held her out.

It had been a hard couple of days. Returning home and he still hadn't spoken to Hermione about her foray into the past. It seemed not worth it – they were home safe and how did it matter how they did it? What did it matter what she did when she was in the past? Ron knew resolutely that anything she had done, she had done to help them escape back to their time. When he was feeling more up to it, he'd ask her.

But as of right now he felt nothing but somber. This world was not as he left it. Instead he had found out when he returned home the other night for a bit of supper that things had changed but not necessarily for the better or worse.

"C'mon mate," Ron said, whispering to his friend who despite outward appearances was not doing well. He was growing thin and no manner of potion was waking him. "You need to wake up. I need to talk to you."

Molly had prepared him supper last night, inviting him over. He hadn't spoken to anyone of his adventure back in time and at McGonagall's suggestion, he doubted that he ever would. Who would believe him?

The only person he had given somewhat of a hint to was Ginny who was surprised she hadn't heard from Harry in over a week. Ron had given some pathetic excuse about work being mad and Harry having to stay behind to do extra projects. When she had tried to push him further he had started to ignore her and dashed over to Molly who was muttering to herself whilst stirring a large pot.

"Soup's on!"

Ron had kissed her forehead, holding out his plate and preparing for her to drop a spoonful of spaghetti onto it when all of a sudden a tall and lanky figure appeared in the doorway. Without warning Ron had dropped the plate to the ground, his face growing pale.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ron," Molly admonished. "Pick up that dish immediately! And language!"

Ginny was looking queerly at her brother, noticing the trembling of his lower lip and the thick choking sound emanating from him. He had made no move to retrieve the dish or its contents and was instead backing away as if seeing Voldemort himself.

"Ron," Arthur said gently. "You heard your mother."

"Is everyone bloody mental?" Ron demanded his eyes so wide the white showed all around the pupil. "Are you all seeing who I am?"

"You mean this gorgeous creature before you?" Fred said with a laugh, entering more fully into the room and giving Ron a strange look.

The boy rushed over, fairly tackling his older brother to the ground and insisting on seeing his ear. With trembling fingers Ron saw that his brother's ear was in fact intact. This was not George. This was Fred. Fred who had died in the final battle. Fred who hadn't had his ear damaged.

"You died!" Ron shouted, his eyes filling with tears.

"What?" all the humor in Fred's eyes were gone, replaced by a piteous hollow look.

"What's going on?" Ron screamed into his face. "You died! You died!"

"RON!" Molly shouted as she and Arthur pulled the boy from off of Fred. "That's a horrible thing to say!"

"This is wrong!" Ron had insisted, feeling as if his tenuous touch of reality was slipping through his fingers. "The wrong twin died!"

At this Molly had walked across the room and slapped Ron harshly against the cheek before breaking into blubbering sobs and running from the room. Ginny sat gob smacked at the table and Fred could only look at the ground with tears slipping down his face.

It had been too awful. Too horrible to try and explain. And so Ron had dashed over to St. Mungo's, only to see Harry still asleep and worse for wear. It was as if his brother had died all over again, except this time it was George. George the impossible flirt and creative genius. The brother that no longer existed.

Now Ron sat at Harry's bedside and for the first time in several days, he lowered his face into his hands and allowed himself to cry.

Hermione continued to go through the papers on her lap, her eyes bleary but never stopping. She had been reading for the better part of the day and now she glanced up to see the sky darkening outside her window.

"Here you are my dear," Poppy said, administering another potion that Hermione didn't recognize but made her insides feel warm and cozy. She drank it down and finished the dinner that had been left for her but she hadn't noticed.

"Thank you." Hermione watched as Poppy left her side, going to tend to a new young first year that had just walked through the door covered in pus-oozing sores. Hermione winced before going back to her reading.

After a few hours she found it - There it was, an updated list of the dead. This would be the quickest way to find out if any other ugly surprises waited for her. Her eyes skimmed the familiar names of the fallen in the great war. So many great wizards and witches dead. And then suddenly her eyes saw it- a name that rattled her.

Dead: George Weasley 1978 – 1998.

Twenty years old. A child. Even though she had gone through the same emotions with Fred dying, she couldn't help but feel a fresh wash of tears slip down her cheeks. Without thinking further she grabbed a nearby quill, ink and parchment, writing hurriedly.

Ron, I've just read. I don't know if you've been home but it's important you write me back. I found this in my reading today. I'm so sorry. If you need me you know where I am. I am here for whatever you need.

Hermione.

Inside the envelope she stuffed the list of the dead, wondering if her friend had even seen it yet. Would it be a horrible way to find out? She didn't have time to think, having asked Madame Pomfrey to send it out immediately. The mediwitch did so with a curt nod, not particularly pleased to be a mail messenger.

Hermione leaned back on her pillow, wondering when she would finally be released. She wanted to go home a few days. Get her bearings and then come back to classes refreshed. It was only a week she was behind, she could always do her studying from home the next week or so. She just needed some time to thing, to re-adjust to this new reality.

She was still deep in thought when the doors to the Infirmary opened dramatically and with equal subtly Professor Snape strode into the Infirmary, walking towards Pomfrey with several phials of what Hermione recognized as Pepper-Up. She stared openly at him, her heart beating madly and unable to form a coherent thought.

He was there, inches from her, moving past her bed and striding with purpose towards Poppy. He smelled strongly of spicy potions – he must have just come from the dungeons. A faint waft of peppermint reached Hermione's nose and she realized she had been correct in assuming the phials were full of pepper-up.

"As requested," he said dimly, his baritone reverberating in the fairly empty room. He handed the phials to the older witch. "But consider this my last act of charity. I've my own lessons to tend to."

"Many thanks," Pomfrey said, choosing to ignore the man's icy tone. He had done much for the school and for the fate of wizard-kind but that didn't mean she didn't feel like giving him a thrashing every now and again.

Hermione felt as if she were being transported. The way he held the phials in his long fingers, just as he had when in the past. The dark hair that hung just below his ears was still stringy and a perfect curtain to shut out the outside world.

She couldn't stop openly staring at him, even as he'd made an abrupt turn and headed for the exit. Before she could mask get observation he'd suddenly stilled at the foot of her bed.

It was as if her gaze was electric and she watched as her dour Professor glanced over to her frame trembling in the bed. He noted that she was surrounded by papers from the last six months and he realized it must be the time travel.

How like Hermione Granger to already be studying up as if her life were one large N.E.W.T. exam. He almost scoffed aloud at the thought when he noticed her dark eyes were wide and still focused solely on him as if mapping his face and frame as he walked by.

Immediately he was irritated at the silent inspection, wondering what the girl was thinking and finding it unnerving that she wasn't looking away when he fixed her with his most withering stare.

He could read her mind of course, but that came only with dire situations and wasn't something he enjoyed any longer. However the way she was staring at him, piercing him with that look of naked hunger was disconcerting.

"What are you staring at, Miss Granger?"

Hermione dropped her eyes back to her paper, unable to actually look him in the face any longer. If she had to stare into those eyes, those eyes which held no regard or remembrance she would shatter into a million pieces.

"Nothing sir."

Only a small huff of air through his large nose gave her indication he'd heard her. Within seconds his boots had marched out the door of the infirmary, closing it behind him with finality.

She stared after that closed door for what felt like an eternity, until Madame Pomfrey announced it bedtime and

"He doesn't remember," she whispered to herself, suddenly aching painfully all over. "No, I must concentrate. I need to know all that happened."

As if by some cruel twist of fate, Hermione flipped to the next newspaper and felt her heart sink as she read the headline.

Former Spy Finds Love at last?

There it was. A flashbulb gone off and a very pissed off Professor Snape and 'unnamed witch' on his arm glaring out at Herimone from the aged newspaper. He glowered into the camera before he and his date headed into the building.

It it possible that our very own anti-hero has finally found love? Severus Snape, Order of Merlin second class, has been found in the company of an unnamed witch every day this week. Sources say they are often found cozying up with a bottle of wine and chatting until the wee hours of the morning. Says one source "…[They] talk for hours. Barely come up for air. Hate to be disturbed but tip well." Could wedding bells be in our double agents' future? It would-

She couldn't read anymore.

As if she had been punched in the stomach, Hermione dropped the paper onto the bed with a strangled cry. Thankfully it was late and the infirmary empty aside from her, the sleeping first year and a drowsing Poppy.

It can't be. He's mine. He loved me.

No, another voice reasoned. He loved Hermione Lockheart. And she's gone along with all his other memories of you, thanks to Albus in the past. As far as he knows you never existed until your first year. It's as if you never went to the past at all.

Hermione rolled onto her side, her dark eyes narrowing in thought as she pursed her lips at the darkness. This was the future that she must now know. The future where she had tasted Snape's lips and not found wanting.

A future where George Weasley was dead instead of Fred and Slughorn had followed suit. A future where Harry was more battle scarred and Snape was alive. Snape was alive and he didn't remember her. A world that she couldn't quite fathom was real yet seemed more likely with each passing moment.

She felt her chin quivering as she looked out into the darkness, her entire body shaking with unused tears. In time she felt the small droplets making their spiraling trail down from her eye to her cheek and then silently onto the pillow she rested her head on. She let her lips form the name she could never speak of again.

"Severus."

Chapter 32

By the time she woke up the next morning, Hermione had decided to put all thoughts of Severus out of her head. There was nothing to be done there. She'd need to move on.

"Harry," she suddenly said to herself, throwing the covers from her body and standing beside the bed with a resolute thud. "I must see Harry."

An hour later and McGonagall wasn't thrilled with the idea.

"St Mungo's is taking fine care of him."

"I need to see him," Hermione explained tiredly. It felt as if she'd been running a marathon the last week. "I can't explain it."

After much hemming and hawing she had permitted Hermione to leave for the morning as long as she was back for afternoon classes.

"You've missed quite enough already," she chided, passing Hermione her timetable. A quick scan of the parchment informed Hermione she had charms this afternoon and...

Fuck.

No.

Double Potions.

A tremor went through her.

"I'm not ready for that."

"Ready for what?"

Ron had agreed to accompany her before heading off back to auror training and he drew into the infirmary, watching as Hermione pulled her robes overtop her jeans and jumper, thrusting the parchment hastily into her pocket.

"To see Harry," she lied, leading the way out into the corridor with the gangly ginger behind her. He looked upset and as if he hadn't slept a wink all night.

"Doesn't feel right," be commented as they made their way out the large Castle door. "Going back to training without him feels wrong. We've always done things together. We're more brothers than friends."

"I know," Hermione said softly. Moments later they had apparated to St. Mungo's. Or more accurately, a rundown red-bricked building called "Purge and Dowse Ltd".

They took a moment to pause outside the building. They knew every time they went somewhere public there was a chance for public mobbing. Ron and Harry had found that out the hard way in Diagon Alley when shopping one afternoon in the summer.

An elderly man sat out front, smelling strongly of alcohol and holding a small tin can in his lap. He didn't notice them or even turn his head when they approached the building.

"Wait!"

A familiar voice rang out from behind them and the two of them stopped in surprise. Ginny ran towards them, her coppery hair in a tight plait down her back. Her eyes were bright.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione said, gathering her friend into a tight hug which the the girl returned fervently.

"I could ask you the same!" Ginny said, her voice animated. "Imagine going to see Harry without inviting me!"

"It's not like that Gin," Ron explained in a hush, unable to meet her eyes after all that had occurred earlier in the week. "We didn't think you'd want to see him like…."

"I'm going to visit my boyfriend," Ginny said with a flush, noticing as Ron trailed off. "And I don't care what you say, just like I didn't care when McGonagall tried to tell me that I couldn't join you. So let's stop dallying and get on with it."

She couldn't quite meet Ron's eyes, after all he'd said earlier this week and how odd he'd been acting she felt as if he were a stranger.

"Wait," Hermione said, suddenly feeling herself. "Does McGonagall know you're here?"

"She doe

When there was a break in the traffic on the street, Hermione and Ron wordlessly crawled through one of the cracked looking windows before stepping into the bustling hospital.

The wand and bone emblem blazed before them, familiar and foreboding. It was frightening to be here – Madame Pomfrey's seemed less intimidating, less scary. Here was where the more serious magical cases came to rest.

A steady stream of Healers in lime green robes and patients of all ages were milling about at the front reception. Hermione noticed with vague interest that one witch was standing uncomfortably against one of the walls, trying in vain to cover the fox's tail that sprouted from underneath her dress. Another man with several branches sprouting from his forehead was casually flipping through an outdated Witch's Weekly.

Hermione and Ron moved past the individuals in rickety chairs and drew to the receptionist who looked frazzled. Her many moles seemed to make a pattern on her ruddy cheek. As she wrote something down before her she grimaced. She could sense the two approaching but she didn't look away from the parchment she was furiously scribbling on.

"What can I help you with?" the witch sniffed, barely looking up from her typing.

"We're here to see Harry Potter," Hermione said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The witch rolled her eyes, glancing up and about to say something biting when her eyes fell on the two in front of her.

"Oh," she said slowly, not quite believing that she was actually seeing two of the war heroes. It had been shocking enough to see Harry Potter here, but now the entire trio and the Weasley sister rumored to be Potters paramour? What a coup!

Her entire demeanor changed, a wide smile crossing her face. "How wonderful that you've come to visit. I just need to do a scan and ask a few preliminary questions."

"Of course."

The trio stood as the witch scanned them with her wand, noticing with satisfaction that they were not under the guise of any potion or spell to make them look like the famous Granger and Weasley's.

Many had attempted to do so this past few days, including a very persistent Rita Skeeter, hoping for the latest updates on the boy's recovery. As of right now every magical newspaper had an outdated photo of Harry with the words "The Boy who might not live?" accompanied by an article detailing the boy being rushed to St. Mungo's.

When the witch had scanned and written something down on her parchment she turned to them with a clipboard, her hands writing furiously.

"Have you travelled out of country in the last month?"

Hermione and Ron got strange looks on their faces before the three answered simultaneously. "No."

"Brilliant," the witch said with false enthusiasm. "Any gifts for the patient?"

"Yes," Ron said, pulling a chocolate frog package from his pocket. Hermione smiled at the sweet gesture – so like Ron to do something like that for the comatose boy.

The witch nodded before scanning the item. "It seems that's fine to take up with you."

"Has there been any improvement to his condition?" Ginny asked, her eyes wet with concern.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask the Healer that," the woman said before indicating with her head that they should go to the stairwell to her left. "Your friend is on the fourth floor. Room seventeen – the suite."

The trio walked to the room of Harry's suite, looking to see the team of Healers and Mediwitches who were talking in hushed tones to one another, stopping only when the two figures at the door made themselves known.

The entire room was covered in flowers of all sizes and shapes. Apparently the news that Harry Potter, defeater of Voldemort, and his illness were reaching more people than before – likely thanks to the venomous Rita Skeeter.

"Hullo," Ron said pleasantly to the figures. "We're here to see Harry."

Ron took her hand and Hermione felt herself inwardly jump at the contact. It felt wrong somehow, as if she were betraying-

Enough. Stop that. As far as you're concerned he doesn't exist anymore. Only Professor Snape remains and there's no love lost there.

Hermione forced a polite smile on her face as the team glanced over, their eyes filling with recognition at the sight. They were Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley after all. Part of the trio that brought down Voldemort. They were forever going to be recognized. Then they recognized the ginger girl with them, the girlfriend of Harry Potter.

Her eyes drew to the curtain that they drew back, showcasing Harry propped in the bed with heaps of plush pillows and blankets. To Hermione it seemed that he was paler than normal. She looked to the now silent group to her right.

"He is breathing unassisted," the tall female Healer offered in a officious tone. "His vitals are all good."

"That sounds good," Ginny said hopefully, her heart sinking when she noticed the way the healers looked to one another in silent disagreement.

"Are you any closer in finding out what's wrong?"

"There are more invasive diagnostic procedures and we were just discussing if we needed to attempt them when you came in," A man who later identified himself as Healer Jones said without thinking.

"How invasive?" Ginny's face was pinched.

"I'm afraid we cannot discuss that with you," Jones said, his voice even. As if trying to convince them that his hand would be just as sure and steady during the procedure. Hermione knew there were privacy laws and she knew that there was little they could do.

"We understand," she said with a nod. "We'd just like a few minutes alone with him."

The healers looked at one another, a few mumbled of protest between them. Hermione could feel Ron getting agitated by her side and she slipped her hand from his.

"We won't be long," she assured them, wishing they would all just leave. There was a small indication of assent from the group.

"We'll give you some time with him," the eldest Healer said, recognizing the distress in their faces and wanting to give them privacy. The crowd shuffled from the room, closing the door soundly behind them.

When they were finally alone the two drew to the side of Harry's bed.

"He looks awful," Ron said in true brash form.

"He does look a bit peaked," Hermione agreed, taking Harry's hand in hers. The unfamiliar scar that ran jaggedly up his arm was showcased against the pale pallor of his skin.

"Oh Harry where are you?"

Hermione sighed, looking to her friend. She could see the eyes that were moving behind eyelids at a rapid pace as if he were dreaming. Why wasn't he waking up? What kind of invasive procedure would they do on him? What if he never came back as himself?

"Brought you a chocolate frog, mate." Ron placed the proffered item on the table next to the infirmary bed. Hermione saw as he brushed at his eyes angrily, turning and looking out the window for a moment, overcome at the sight of Harry wasting away.

Hermione had a sudden flashback to the first day they'd all met on the train. They had just been children then – and now? After all they had seen they were no longer children. They were forever changed. The boy in the bed most of all.

Ginny stood at the foot of the bed, looking to her lover with a face full of tears. She was trembling slightly, her slim throat bobbing with each thick swallow as she stared at Harry's slumbering form.

"What kind of procedure do you think they'll do?" she whispered, her eyes finally going to Hermione. "What if he never comes back? Or if he does he's a totally different person?"

Ron gave a small noise in the corner of the room, unable to accept what was happening. It reminded Hermione much of the forest when he'd had to leave them, overwhelmed. Only this time there was no malice – only devastation.

"It's not a guarantee that they'll do it," Hermione said, drawing over to the girl and placing a sisterly hand on her forearm. "He'll come out of it before that, I'm sure."

"How can you be sure?"

Hermione was at a loss for words, so completely unlike her. Without warning Ginny capitulated to the side of Harry's bed, placing her head on his chest. She listened to his breathing, low and steady and his heartbeat much the same.

"You silly boy!" Ginny said, her voice breaking, her tears wetting the front of his hospital robe. "What happened? You were fine two weeks ago! And now you won't wake up?"

She sat up, moving to a chair next to the bed and gripped Harry's hand in hers. Where are you, Harry?"

Hermione shot Ron a look over Ginny's head. It must be killing him being unable to tell his sister the truth of their time travel. However it was what was instructed and Ron knew it was for the best. Bringing Ginny into this would only cause more questions they couldn't answer.

"I need a minute with him," Ginny said, rubbing her eyes harshly. Hermione and Ron left the room wordlessly, closing the door gently behind them. When they were alone Ginny looked down at the placid face of Harry.

She brushed some of the messy hair from his face, a small smile appearing on her lips. Even now his hair was a dark mess. Something about the familiar sight of his messy hair caused a pang in her heart.

All she knew was that Harry had been injured by an unknown spell during Auror training, that he hadn't woken up even after a week.

"It's time to wake up Harry," Ginny cooed, a tear slipping down her cheek and landing with a plop on the boy's left eyelashes.

"Come back to me."

With that she placed a gentle kiss to the boy's limp lips. She could feel the cool touch of his lips and she gave a hiccupping sob. This was the boy that she had loved for so long. They had faced life and death and come out stronger and now? Now he was lying in a bed unable to wake up.

Images of Harry at all ages of their courtship flew through her mind. The smile he did when he was nervous. The way he wrinkled his nose when he was frustrated. The way he kissed her gently and the way he held her close when they made love.

She sat up, scrubbing at her face with her hands and smoothing her plait the best she could. She didn't want Hermione and Ron feeling sorry for her. She stood, she had to leave. She took a deep, ragged breath and stood, facing the door.

"You can come back in."

She stood as Ron and Hermione came into the room. It looked as if they were about to suggest leaving when Hermione's gaze fell behind Ginny and she let out a small gasp. Ginny heard a rustling from behind her and turned, her eyes widening as she saw Harry shuffling in bed. He let out a small groan.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, not believing what was happening. The boy in the bed continued to struggle, pushing himself to a sitting position before moving the hair out of his eyes.

"You're awake!" Ginny said, rushing back to the boy's side and throwing her arms around him. She noticed that he immediately stiffened, his eyes narrowing on her face. He looked confused, irritated even. He didn't return her embrace, instead just staring at her and taking in the form of Hermione and Ron coming to stand next to his bed.

"You had us worried, mate."

Harry continued to stare at them, his eyes wide and unblinking. He looked as if he were coming out of a fog and the three smiles in front of him faltered a moment. The bushy-haired girl had tears in her eyes when she spoke with a small laugh.

"Harry, say something!"

Harry's emerald eyes swam over the three eager faces in front of him. He licked his dried lips, feeling as if he hadn't used his voice or body for months. So when he spoke his voice was a sharp rasp.

"Who are all of you?"

Chapter 33

Hermione's breath caught in her chest as she gaped at Harry from the side of his hospital bed. Harry continued to survey her with a look of utter confusion. Hermione's own minimal freckles seemed to jump out of her now ghastly pale complexion.

"W-what?"

Harry frowned deeply, a single crease deepening in the middle of his eyebrows as he sat up straighter in his bed. His lips were set in a thin line of displeasure, as if he felt he was the butt of a joke he wasn't privy to. He pulled the covers more tightly around his frame and glared more severely at the shaking Hermione.

"I said," he offered rudely. "Who are you?"

Hermione gaped a moment longer before pulling herself together. Evidently this wasn't Harry trying to be funny, for it was hardly the time or the place. Along with that, Harry just wasn't the type to do such a thing, and the hollow look in his light eyes made it all too clear that he wasn't in jest. Ginny rushed over to his side along with Ron, their matching light eyes stuck on Harry.

"Harry-" Ron tried to interject, giving his friend a wary smile just as Ginny gripped his hand tightly in her own.

"And who the hell are you?" Harry shouted – his anxiety at being surrounded by several people. He looked at Ginny who was still holding his hand and staring up at him. "And what are you holding my hand? Who are you bloody people?"

Ginny jumped back as if bitten, her eyes large and wet. Harry had never spoken to her like this in all the time she knew him. And now he was bringing his hand tightly against his body as if merely touching her had rendered it sickly.

Hermione moved from the bed to the window. Her hands were shaking, and the pit in her stomach seemed to be growing larger. So large in fact she was finding it almost impossible to breathe properly. Judging by Ginny's horror and Ron's confusion they were feeling similarly. Harry himself sat in his hospital bed, glancing at them all haired girl with a puzzled look on his face. He had gone from looking angry to frightened.

"Here!" Hermione said, her eyes alighting on Harry's glasses on the table next to the bed. She shoved them into his hand. "Put on your glasses!"

Surely that was it! Harry shoved the circular spectacles onto his face and blinked a moment as the three of them came into focus.

"Are you going to tell me who you are?"

Hermione immediately deflated. How was it that Harry couldn't remember who they were? Was it possible that in this time travel he'd lost track of his own identity? But why him and not the rest of them?

Hermione mentally scanned her mind, through all the books she'd read on time travel, and never had she come across such a case. There were tales of those who knew too much of their future and past, but none who had actually forgotten. This entire thing was strange and it caused her to feel momentarily weak in the knees.

Hermione turned then, her dark eyes set on Harry's solemn figure in the bed, looking around the room suddenly as if he'd never seen it before. She slowly sat herself in the chair again, seeing that Harry was still rigid with unease.

"Har- Do you know who you are?" Hermione offered tentatively, punctuating her point by pointing her trembling finger at Harry. His green eyes surveyed the movement and then grew cloudy once more. Ginny and Ron had come to stand behind Hermione at the side of the bed, wanting to give Harry some breathing room.

"Of course I know who I am," he said indignantly, "I'm..."

He trailed off then, his brows furrowing as he looked to the blanket he was wrapped in, as if it would give some sort of clue to his persona. Nothing. He looked up at the strange group once more, frowning deeply and spoke gently.

"I-I don't know."

Hermione nodded, her mind still whirring with explanations but finding none that were plausible. Why would Harry forget who he was? She frowned deeply, looking to Harry in earnest.

"Harry. That's your name. Harry Potter."

"Harry?"

"This is Ginny," Hermione said motioning towards the redhead to her right. "And this is Ron."

Harry nodded politely at the trio, deciding that they didn't seem very dangerous. As far as he could tell he was in some sort of hospital. It was bright and clean and expensive looking. Did he have money? Was he rich? Did he know these three?

"And my name is Hermione," the bushy-haired girl said, wincing as Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Hermione? What kind of name is that?"

"Never mind that," Hermione said huffily. "The matter at hand is that you are a most powerful wizard. You're a legend, a hero. And the fact that you don't even know who you are is more than frightening."

Harry who had listened patiently to the story almost bemused and leaning back into his pillow, now narrowed his eyes at the girl -Hermione?- and got a completely serious look on his face. She looked so desperately truthful that he almost believed the story.

"I'm a wizard?"

"Yes."

"So I can do magic? Spells? Broomsticks? The whole lot?"

"Yes Harry, but-"

"And who are these behind you?" Harry offered bemused. "Are they wizards too? Do we all do magic together?"

"We're your best friends," Ron said quickly, his face a very picture of hurt feelings. "And Ginny- Ginny is your girlfriend Harry!"

Harry gaped a moment, glancing at Hermione in wide-eyed surprise and then frowning. "Really?"

Hermione tried not to be offended. "I'm Hermione."

"I'm Ginny," the redhead said, her eyes leaking. Harry's eyes went to the tall and fetching red-head and he smiled while coloring instantly. She was quite fit and rather beautiful. Her long hair was curled and her neck swan-like. He gave a lopsided grin in her direction.

"That's more like it."

Hermione shook her head a moment, clearing it as she glared at Harry defiantly. "Harry, this is serious."

"And I'm seriously confused," Harry replied, resentment sneaking into his tone at the girl's pinched face and ordering voice. "I'm exhausted and you three have come barging in here telling me that you're my best mates and my girlfriend. You're telling me I'm a wizard and that I'm magical and I-I…"

He trailed off, unable to formulate what he was thinking further. He seemed suddenly exhausted and even though she knew she shouldn't push him, Hermione couldn't help herself. "You mean, you don't remember anything?"

Harry shrugged aimlessly, looking around the hospital wing in exasperation. "Look, I don't know what to tell you. I don't even know who I am."

"Do you remember the Dursleys?" Ron said in an animated tone, trying to grasp at straws. "Remember when Hagrid gave Dudley a tail?"

Harry peered at Ron from behind his glasses, wondering in his mind how he ever became friends with such a bizarre troupe. "Who? I told you, I don't know anything."

"Aren't you worried?" Hermione insisted, looking to Harry with an absolutely horrified look on her face. Harry frowned, not liking the way she looked when she got all anxious like that. She was being far too annoying for his liking.

"Of course I'm worried," Harry spat angrily, finding this whole ordeal to be overwhelming. He didn't know where or who he was. He didn't know if this was some dream or nightmare. He didn't know any of the answers to the questions this girl was asking. He was growing frantic and suddenly wanted nothing more than to be left alone. "Just leave. All of you."

Hermione felt as if she'd been slapped. She frowned deeply, her dark eyes watering in humiliated anger. Harry didn't notice, for he'd already rolled onto his side, his back to her. The three of them sat staring a moment at the boy they had all hailed as the conquering hero. It was suddenly very evident that he was a teenage boy – a scared one at that.

Suddenly Healer Jones was back, looking to them expectantly. A few minutes of discussion between them all about what had just happened – not including Harry who still lay with his back to them – Healer Jones had insisted that they leave the patient.

"He's likely just disoriented after coming out of such a sleep," Healer Jones insisted, causing the three of them to breathe sighs of immediately relief. "It's not uncommon for individuals to suffer from bouts of amnesia for up to a month after his experience."

"We'll be back to see him on Friday," Ginny insisted firmly. "And I don't know who you'll be informing of his progress as he has no magical next of kin. Hermione and Ron like his brother and sister and considering Harry and I had been talking marriage up until the time he got sick, I am as close to family as you've got."

"My files suggest otherwise," the Healer replied primly. "But I assure you that should anything change drastically, I will be in contact with you all. Good day."

With that, they had been summarily dismissed. The three fumed as they left the hospital, crawling through the window of store before brushing themselves off on the sidewalk. They glanced around, seeing they were alone save for the sleeping vagrant.

"I can't believe how rude that Healer was," Ginny said in almost a growl. "Imagine telling us that they'll contact us only if something drastic changes!? The nerve!"

"Agreed," Ron hmphed, crossing his arms and baring his teeth angrily at no one in particular. "You'd think after all we'd done they'd be treating us like celebrities."

"Yes, well," Hermione shrugged. "I think that to many, they still see us like children."

"Tell me what happened to you all," Ginny said suddenly, her eyes imploring. "Please. It's bad enough seeing Harry like that, but knowing that I'm completely out of the loop is awful."

Hermione and Ron shot a look at one another, knowing that they couldn't go back on their promise to McGonagall. "We can't Gin."

At once her eyes turned stormy. "I don't see why not. It's like you're all keeping a secret from me."

"McGonagall made us promise," Ron added, looking sorrowful. "You know we'd tell you if we could. And what does it matter? Harry's gonna be alright! We should be celebrating, not arguing!"

Ron was about to go on when the vagrant from before waved his tin can at them dramatically and gave a small belch. "Spare some change?"

Hermione shoved some muggle currency into the tin, wincing as the scent of soiled clothing and alcohol assaulted her. She hoped he would be able to afford a hot lunch and shower. When he'd nodded and gone back to sleep she turned back to her friends. Ginny looked hurt and like she wanted to throttle them both.

"Speaking of secrets, I didn't know you'd talked marriage with Harry," Hermione said, a small smile crossing her features as she looked at the suddenly shy Ginny.

"Yeah well," Ginny gave a small shrug, avoiding Ron's eyes. "We talked about it a lot this summer. We're waiting until I graduate."

"Oh Ginny!" Hermione grabbed her friend and swallowed her in a tight hug. "That's splendid! You must be so excited!"

Ginny giggled and returned the hug before stepping back. It seemed all was forgiven and while Ginny wasn't happy with being out of the loop, she was also so thankful that Harry was alright. She knew in time she would come to understand what had happened. What had made her brother go strange that night in the Burrow. For now she would wait.

"That's so wonderful Gin," Ron agreed, squeezing his sister's hand tightly before dropping it. Ginny felt her eyes grow wet and she threw herself into her older brother's arms. All the resentment and anger from the past few days was gone and all that remained was joy. For a minute the three of them allowed themselves a bit of levity and laughed. It was Hermione's worried eyes that eventually made Ron pause.

"He's going to be fine," Ron said, giving Hermione a small kiss and pulling her into his arms. "You heard the Healer. It's completely normal. Now stop that frowning and let's go get a drink and celebrate! Gin you coming?"

"I've got no afternoon classes today," Ginny said with a small nod. "Hermione?"

"I wish I could," Hermione said with a smile before pulling back. "But I promised I'd return to afternoon classes. You two go off and have fun without me. I promise I'll be in for the next one."

"You sure?"

Hermione nodded, watching as the two of them walked off chatting gently between them. She smiled, looking at the protective way Ron looked at his sister and she wondered in the deepest part of her why she wouldn't want a man as wonderful as that? Hermione let out a small groan as she glanced at her wristwatch. She had just enough time to make it back for her afternoon class.

Potions.

Chapter 34

When she finally made her way back to Hogwarts Hermione realized she was ten minutes late. A large part of her considered simply not attending – pretending she was ill. But another part of her knew that if she continued in that vein, she may as well give up doing her final year full stop.

With a large sigh, she tossed on her school robe, and gathered her potions book and parchment from her room before rushing down into the dungeons and preparing to face his wrath.

She couldn't hear anything from the other side of the door when she approached and she considered knocking. She'd never been late for his class before – she didn't know the right way to go about it. So she decided to push the door open gently, wincing as a loud creak sounded in the echoing room.

She poked her head around the frame, greeted with twelve sets of eyes on her, not counting the blackened gaze of Snape who had also turned his attention to the door. He was standing at the front of the class, standing with arms folded. She'd obviously interrupted him mid-speech.

Just my luck.

"Late," Snape said simply, his eyebrow cocking in minute surprise as the Head Girl of Hogwarts shuffled inside the room, closing the door behind her. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"Yes sir," Hermione replied respectfully, sliding into a seat near the back. She had no interest in drawing more attention from Snape than necessary.

"As I was saying," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "You've got fifty minutes to prove to me that you're not the dunderheads I assumed you were. The potion is on the blackboard. Begin."

At this, cauldrons were placed atop work tables and fires lit under them. A small line began in front of the gargoyle's mouth, the clear water pouring over the student's hands as they washed.

This potion was highly sensitive and required perfectly clean hands. Then they were back to their desks, looking to the board and starting their potions. All of this was done in absolute silence.

Hermione looked to the blackboard, scanning what they would be making.

A draught of Living Death? But we covered that in sixth term!

Deciding that she didn't want to suffer his ire any more than she had to, Hermione took the opportunity to recall everything she'd learned in her sixth year under Slughorn's tutelage.

"Fifteen minutes remain," Snape drawled from the front of the classroom, his dark eyes piercing each of the students before him.

Hermione glanced down at her potion, very pleased with what she'd created during her time. It had been a struggle however not to stare at the tall man at the front of the classroom as she worked. Every flick of his hair out of his eyes sent her stomach flipping. The sound of his voice reaching out to remind them to stir counter-clockwise had her insides melting.

But then he would glance coldly out at them from behind his curtain of hair and Hermione would be reminded that he wasn't the boy he once was. The boy she had fallen very quickly for.

He's not the same person. I mean, he is. But he's also not.

It was rather hard trying to separate Severus from Snape, but Hermione was determined to do it. She just needed to keep reason at the forefront of her mind.

I just have to remember that Severus and Snape are two different people. Severus I loved. Snape? Never.

As soon as she'd thought it, Hermione noticed his approach. He was peering into each cauldron, making a small note on his parchment and moving to the next. He looked so remarkably like his younger self that Hermione had to shake her head to dislodge the comparison.

Snape gave a disappointed shake of his head when he came to the cauldron beside Hermione's. She saw the girl next to her trying not to cry. Finally Snape was approaching her and Hermione tried to calm herself with the internal mantra she'd begun: I don't feel anything for Professor Snape. He's not the person I fell in love with.

He stood beside Hermione, glancing over her shoulder at her cauldron and making a small huffing noise through his large nose. Hermione felt it through her hair and she felt as her body broke out in gooseflesh.

"Acceptable," he murmured, making a small note on a piece of parchment before moving on.

Hermione let the air out of her chest, feeling she could finally breathe. Her heart was pounding and she could feel her entire body trembling.

I am in such trouble.

Dinner that evening was a somber affair. Ginny had returned, looking withdrawn and depressed.

"I just don't understand how he's forgotten everything," Ginny said, taking a sip of juice. "You were gone just as long as he was and you don't have trouble remembering anything."

"I know," Hermione agreed, pushing the broccoli around on her plate. She hadn't much of an appetite that day and now was no different. Everything tasted sour and bland to her.

"But we needn't fret yet Ginny. You heard the Healer, it's likely nothing serious."

But even as she said it, she didn't believe it.

With Harry ill and Snape alive her entire world felt as if it had turned on its axis. The world made no sense and she had no anchor save for her friends. But Ron and Ginny hadn't gone through the experience with her.

Besides that, Malfoy was still out there, dangerous and unpredictable. His face was splashed all over Hogsmeade and other Wizarding towns. But nothing had come up – not a sign that the boy was even still alive. Would be come back to finish the job he'h started in the past?

Hermione's eyes drew to the head table against her will. Snape sat there, talking quietly with Pamona as he ate slowly and in small bites. He seemed distracted, more moody then usual.

"I wonder why he came back," Hermione mused aloud.

"Rumor is no one else wanted to teach the class," Ginny said with a shrug, finally taking a bite of her chicken. "After the war, everyone was a bit scared. McGonagall was desperate so she called him back. I suppose he had no other choice. He may be a hero, but he's still an ex Death Eater."

"But he gave up everything," Hermione insisted,

"Only when he had to," Ginny countered. "Harry told me what he saw in the Pensieve. Snape did what he had to do to cover his own skin. And he only came to Dumbledore's side when he knew Lily was in danger. I know that Harry has forgiven him, and that's wonderful on Harry's part. But I don't trust Severus Snape one bit."

Hermione jumped back as if she'd been slapped. A part of her wanted to immediately come to his defense, to explain that Snape's upbringing and more had contributed largely to the person he turned out to be. But instead she bit the inside of her cheek.

Before Ginny could continue a large sound of windows creaking open sounded and several parcels and pieces of mail sailed down from the ceiling and into the outstretched hands of Hogwarts students. Hermione glanced over to Neville at her right, seeing as he unwrapped the Daily Prophet that he'd been delivered.

"Neville!" Hermione almost shrieked as she saw the front page. "May I see your paper a moment?"

"'Course," Neville said, handing it over. "My gran tells me I need to keep updated on world events, but I just like doing the jumble."

Hermione didn't reply, instead her eyes scanned the title in front of her. Ginny read from across the table, her eyes as large as saucers.

The Boy Who Lost his Mind by Rita Skeeter.

It seems that the Boy Who Lived to Defeat Voldemort is now the Boy who can't remember his first name! This reporter has it on good authority that Harry Potter, Order of Merlin First Class, hero of the Wizarding World, has been taken to St Mungo's under a mystery affliction.

"How could she have found this out?" Hermione demanded outraged, glancing up from the article. "I never spoke to anyone! You?"

"Of course not!" Ginny replied huffily. "And Ron wouldn't either. It-" she stopped, her eyes widening. "It was that bloody vagrant. "

"What?"

"I guarantee it was Rita Bloody Skeeter," Ginny said, slamming her hand down on the wooden table. "Who else was around when we were talking?"

"The nurse had said Rita was trying to sneak into the hospital all day," Hermione groaned, holding her head in frustration. "So she disguised herself and waited."

The two girls looked to one another in silence, quietly fuming before turning their attention back to the newspaper.

This author wonders if Ginny Weasley, fiancée of Harry Potter, will make any public statements on the health of her dearest beau.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Ginny grumbled,

And speaking of romance, it seems that Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin First Class and Ronald Weasley, Order of Merlin First Class, were in attendance to visit their sick friend. Sources report that they were very affectionate, even as their friend lay sick in his bed.

Hermione lowered her head to the table, trying her best not to scream in frustration before she continued to read.

With news of Harry Potter's mystery illness, there are fears in the Wizarding World that another attack will be imminent.

"Having Harry around made me feel safe," says one unnamed Hogwarts student. "With him sick I'm scared of what could happen."

This student isn't the only one in fear for their lives. When a poll was taken, several wizards and witches expressed that with Harry Potter ill, tensions had risen, even as high as the wizengamont.

"He took down the most powerful wizard in the world," says another unnamed source. "It's inevitable that other wizards and witches are going to come forth and with Harry [Potter] out of the way, it just became much easier. Just as Voldemort came after Grindewald, mark my words, something wicked this way will come."

Hermione lowered the paper, unable to read anymore. Not only was the speculation far-reaching at best, but it was downright offensive.

"This is ludicrous," she spat.

"The court of public opinion has always been powerful," Ginny said, glancing around to see some of the students looking solemn. "If enough people believe it, it becomes true."

Hermione fell silent, her eyes drawing up to the Head Table where McGonagall had fixed her with a sympathetic look. A quick slip of her eyes revealed Snape glancing at her through his hair with an unreadable expression on his pale face.

Suddenly Harry laying in bed at St. Mungo's wasn't just a frustrating turn of events. His mystery illness not just an obstacle to overcome.

Now it was a race against time.

Chapter 35

That Friday after classes Hermione Apparated to the Burrow. She had several books with her on memory charms and wizardry. She had spent every free moment that entire week trying to find something that would hint at what was happening with Harry. Nothing had shown up and she was beyond frustrated.

Ron met her at the front door and she smiled at him warmly, always cheered to see his familiar, freckled face.

"Ready?"

"Five minutes," Ron said, pressing a chaste kiss to Hermione's temple and leading her to the kitchen table. "Ginny's just getting ready. She's convinced if she wears something that Harry got her, that he'll suddenly remember her. Tea?"

Hermione nodded and sat across from Ron at the table, noting that the rest of the house was out for the day judging by the clock on the wall. A cup of tea was pushed towards her and Ron collapsed into the seat across from her. His freckles stood out against the pale pallor of his skin. He hadn't looked this horrible since Voldemort. He gave her a weak smile, taking a sip of his tea.

"Having any more trouble with this time?"

"It's strange," Hermione said, taking a sip of her own tea, noting that Ron made a horrible brew. "Some things are very familiar and others are a bit off. Like this week we had to make a potion we learned in sixth term."

"Well if Snape's running Potions again he'd want to make sure everyone actually learned something under ol' Sluggy," Ron offered logically. "He wouldn't want to send you out into the world underprepared. It'd look bad on him."

"You're completely right," Hermione said, feeling foolish for not seeing it before. "Snape is such a perfectionist, of course he'd want to see that we can brew as well as he expects of us. It's not about us at all, it's about him. As usual."

Ron looked across the table at Hermione, his palms sweating. He still fancied her so strongly, but since her return home they'd been so distracted with Harry that he hadn't even thought to broach it with her. And now, looking at her with that strange look on her face he didn't know if it was the right time now. Would it ever be the right time, though?

He was about to say something when Ginny suddenly appeared, padding her way into the kitchen with a wobbly smile on her face and wearing the sweater Hermione knew Harry had bought her a few months ago.

"I'm ready."

"What's the last thing that you remember?"

"Oh enough of this," Harry said, laying in the hospital bed and giving Hermione a disdainful look. "If I hear that question one more time-"

"Well just answer it!" Hermione demanded shrilly.

They had been visiting with Harry for just under an hour and he was proving to the most difficult and stubborn person Hermione could ever recall meeting.

Not only had he not remembered Ginny, but he'd had the nerve to say that the sweater looked like something a grandmother would wear. At this point, Ginny had rushed from the room and not returned. Ron had gone after her a few minutes ago, leaving Hermione and Harry alone.

"I'm telling you I remember nothing!" Harry retorted, his face turning red. "I can't remember who I am or who you lot are. I don't know where I am or what I'm even doing here."

"So you simply remember waking up and that's it?" Hermione said with a sigh, pressing a hand to her temple.

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

"Don't you dare swear at me, Harry Potter!" Hermione thundered, moving towards Harry who suddenly looked surprised (and a little frightened) at the formidable young woman. "Since the day I met you I've been trying to protect you. And you may not remember who I am, but I know you. You're brave and strong determined. So stop acting like a toe-rag and try your best to help!"

At this she whirled from Harry's side and to the window of the hospital room. Thankfully Rita Skeeter's vagrant had been reported and the three of them had been careful this morning in saying nothing outside of Harry's room.

She gave a large sigh, her shoulders and head aching. All her free time was in the library or having meetings with McGonagall who was just as lost as she. Now it seemed like there was no hope to be had and Hermione wanted to cry. She pressed her forehead to the cool pane of glass and took a steadying breath.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled from across the room, his head shaking and his tone exhausted. "I am completely confused about all of this."

Hermione glanced over to see that Harry was staring up at the ceiling, his face tight. She saw a small tear leak down the corner of his eye and he brushed it away angrily.

Hermione felt her entire body soften as she walked back over to Harry, placing herself on the chair next to the bed and taking the boy's hand in hers. He pulled his hand away, confused at the contact. Hermione had to remind herself – just because she knew him didn't mean he was okay.

"It's alright Harry," Hermione said softly. "I'm going to figure this out."

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione cracked one eye open, wincing as she pulled herself to a sitting position. Her mouth was dry as cotton and she peered up at the severe looking face above her.

"Madame Pince," Hermione sputtered, realizing in an instant that she had fallen asleep researching in the library. She had been at it vigorously since she returned from seeing Harry on Friday.

"It is past curfew Miss Granger," Madame Pince said, looking down her long nose at the bleary-eyed girl as Hermione shifted in her seat. To Hermione's utter dismay she realized that she'd fallen asleep on a particularly ancient spell tome, and one of the pages was creased quite severely. Madame Pince sucked in a deep lungful of air into her tiny, shriveled body. The books were like the children she never had and to see them being so dis-used caused something inside her to snap.

"You are suspended from this library for a week," Madame Pince said, her voice shaking with a barely suppressed fury.

Hermione needed no further prompting, pushing herself from the table and rushing from the Library. Her footsteps were loud on the stone floor as she propelled herself around the corner and nearly knocked down the familiar figure standing there.

"Miss Granger!" McGongall said, surprised to see Hermione out past curfew and looking beside herself as she leaned against the wall, looking haggard. "Out past curfew?"

"Oh, Professor," Hermione's cheeks pinked in embarrassment. Her voice was frenetic as she spoke. "I'm afraid I fell asleep in the library. I'm sorry. I'm headed back to my room and-"

McGonagall held up a finger to silence Hermione. She gave the girl a sympathetic look. "Come with me to my office."

Minutes later Hermione was seated across from the Headmistress, a steaming cup of tea before her and a biscuit placed precariously on its saucer.

"Miss Granger I'm concerned about you," McGonagall's voice was soft, her brogue gentle. "These past few weeks you've not been yourself. I know you're concerned for Mister Potter, but I worry its coming at a great cost to yourself."

Hermione took in what the Headmistress was saying, her body seeming to sink into the large tufted chair. McGonagall watched as the girl brought the tea to her lips, sipping delicately. Under this scrutiny Minerva could see the dark shadows under the girl's eyes.

"You understand we as staff are working at all hours for a cure to Mister Potter's malady?" Minerva prompted, taking a sip of her own tea. "That you alone are not working at restoring Mister Potter's memories."

"You've told the staff?" Hermione was surprised at this. She had assumed it was kept q

"Only a select few," Minerva admitted. "Upon your return Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape were informed."

She didn't notice as the girl bristled at the latter's name.

"I needed their combined expertise in health and the Dark Arts for fear that something more sinister was afoot. They have given many brilliant insights, but unfortunately even as they work together with the Healers at St. Mungo's there has been no progress."

"I see," Hermione acknowledged. She took a large sigh,

"So you see, Miss Granger, it doesn't rest on your shoulders alone," Minerva added in a voice that was almost motherly in affection. She gave Hermione a look that was a minute smile.

"I suppose I just feel responsible," Hermione admitted readily, her eyes stinging with tears that threatened to fall. "I never should have let Harry find out I had the time turner. I should have reported everything to you. If I had, we wouldn't be in this mess. I just wish I could go back and fix everything."

"If wishes were Thestrals then beggars would ride," Minerva mused, leaning back in her chair. "You are not responsible for Mister Potter's actions. You weren't as a child and you aren't now, as a grown woman."

Hermione nodded, feeling her eyes growing wet. "I have a lot on my mind. Not just Harry."

"Did something happen during your trip?" McGonagall's voice was tinged with concern. Hermione finally let her eyes meet the wizened gaze of Minerva.

I fell in love with Severus Snape. He doesn't remember me. I'm in love with a man that despises me. The man I love doesn't exist. He was supposed to be dead. But he's alive and with someone else and that's somehow worse. I'm in love with a ghost.

Hermione shook her head slowly, trying to push the dark thoughts from her mind. She clutched her hands together on her lap, trying to quell the uneasy feeling that was threatening to overtake her completely.

"No, Headmistress," Hermione lied, her stomach churning as she lied to her mentor. "It's just a lot of pressure with my studies and researching about Harry. That's all."

"You are welcome to take a few weeks off if you think it would help," Minerva said with genuine understanding. "You're the only student that I think would be able to catch up in time. Perhaps you need the time to gather your thoughts."

Hermione shook her head emphatically. "No thank you, Headmistress. I've got it all under control, I promise. I'm just a bit overtired."

McGonagall looked Hermione over severely before nodding. "Then you should get to bed."

With that Hermione had stood, shooting Minerva a grateful smile before rushing from the room and up to her quarters where she collapsed into her bed, sobbing herself into an uneasy sleep.

The next afternoon Hermione and Ginny walked towards their Double Potions class, both dragging their feet. Ginny because she always wanted to be at Harry's side, reminding him of why he needed to fight for his memories. Hermione because every time she saw Professor Snape, a small part of her wanted to scream.

"I just feel going to classes is worthless," Ginny moaned gently. "Harry bloody Potter is sitting in St. Mungo's completely confused and I'm going to a bloody Potions class pretending like I don't have a care in the world."

"There's nothing you could do for him in the hospital," Hermione said comfortingly, trying to stop a yawn from emerging. She had gotten a very poor sleep and subsequently she was bleary-eyed and a bit irritable.

"How are things with you and Ron?" Ginny asked, suddenly changing the subject. Hermione felt herself stiffen before glancing at her wristwatch.

"Come on Gin, we have to hurry or we'll be late."

Inside the classroom there was already a crowd murmuring inside. Ginny and Hermione drew over to the rest of the students who were surrounding the large cauldron in the front of the class. Snape was standing behind it, looking like the gargoyle that spewed water at the corner of the room.

Hermione was sure to stand near the back of the group, not trusting herself to get closer. Snape didn't move his gaze from the potion he was brewing.

When the last student had arrived a minute later, the door to his classroom shut with a grim finality. A chilling silence swept the room as all eyes were drawn to where Snape stood. His voice was soft and deadly and everyone strained to listen.

"Can any of you correctly identify this brew?"

Hermione peered into the large cauldron, immediately recognizing the mother of pearl sheen to it. She glanced at the spiraling fumes and immediately her hand swept up into the air. Snape glanced her over before offering a short nod, prompting her to speak.

"Amortentia," Hermione said swallowing slowly.

"Correct," Snape said without feeling. "And its purpose?"

He seemed to be encouraging Hermione to respond and so she did. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world."

At this, several of the girls tittered behind Hermione, obviously excited about what they would be creating. They were immediately silenced with a dark look from Snape who stood over the cauldron, looking like their own hideous boggart.

"It is also the most dangerous," he continued.

"But sir," a seventh year Ravenclaw interrupted. "How can a love potion be dangerous?"

"Five points from Ravenclaw for interrupting," Snape snapped. "And it is dangerous because the potion will create a powerful obsession. And when underestimated, obsession is very dangerous."

At this he seemed to lose himself in the curling tendrils of the potion before he backed up, as far from the fumes as he could manage.

"Of course this isn't real love," Snape continued on, wincing as if the word love caused him physical pain. "Not even the most skillful potioneer has ever been able to create such a truly unbreakable attachment."

The classroom was quiet, watching the tall and sullen man before them. They had never considered him to hold tender feeling, but now the news of Lily Potter was free for all to know and the potion between them suddenly seemed like a tone deaf lesson for him to participate in.

"Pair up," he said suddenly, not looking at any of them. "You will brew this together and at the end of the class we will see how successful you are."

"What do we get if it's successful?" the same Ravenclaw from earlier asked, obviously unaware that Horace Slughorn and Severus Snape taught very different Potions classes. Snape fixed him with a dark glare before answering.

"The satisfaction that you're not a complete idiot."

A little under an hour later Hermione and Ginny stood looking at their bubbling potion, the mother of pearl sheen matching that of Snape's batch. Hermione had done the majority of the work, finding that Ginny was remarkably distracted – not that it was surprising.

"Take a sniff," Hermione suggested, wanting to draw Ginny's attention to something more tangible than worrying about Harry. "See what you smell."

Ginny gave Hermione a weak smile before leaning forward. Her eyes crumpled a bit as she inhaled, her cheeks pinking from the heat of the potion.

"The Burrow at Christmas… the Quidditch Pitch in the fall…And… Harry's peppermint kisses."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, patting her hand gently and glancing at her friend. Perhaps this had been a foolish idea.

"I'm not," Ginny said, her smile a bit brighter. "It smells lovely. And it reminds me that not all hope is lost. Harry is still in there somewhere, we just have to draw him out."

Hermione exchanged another secret smile with her friend, noting that Snape was coming to see the student's progression. She wanted to make sure that it was finished to his standards and so she leaned forward, wafting the scent towards her face with her right hand. Her eyes fell closed as the comforting scent took her over.

"Well?" Ginny prompted.

"Fresh mown grass," Hermione said, breathing deeply the familiar scent. "Fresh parchment and…."

She paused. Expecting that same scent of Ron's hair to come wafting into her nostrils as it had before. But instead there was something different… It was dark and masculine. She couldn't quite pinpoint it.

"And?"

"Nothing ," Hermione answered quickly, stepping back, her eyes warily on the potion. Perhaps she'd done it incorrectly? Suddenly Ginny jerked in her seat, looking to the potion with renewed interest.

"Maybe if I gave this to Harry-" Ginny began, her eyes hopeful.

"Then you would have an obsessed wizard who still doesn't know you really are," Hermione finished for her. She felt so hideous for saying it, but she knew what Ginny was going through. "Potions and-"

She had been able to go off on a philosophical tangent when all of a sudden her world suddenly seemed to fall in on her. As if she were at the bottom of the ocean and could finally kick herself to the surface.

"I know what it was!"

With that, Hermione grasped her books to her chest, being sure not to knock the cauldron off the table in her excitement.

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked gently, trying not to draw the attention of Snape. Precious little good that had done, for the overgrown bat was heading in their direction.

"I'll explain later," Hermione promised, her eyes bright. Before the tall man behind her could stop her, Hermione had run from the room, her hair flying out behind her.

"Miss Granger-" Snape roared, but the sound of him calling her name fell on deaf ears. Her legs carried her quickly up the stairs from the dungeon, into the fresh smelling main level of Hogwarts. Still she continued at her frenetic pace; she had to see Headmistress McGonagall.

She knew how to save Harry.