Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Nostalgia
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She was in the hospital. There's been an accident, they said. You've got amnesia, they said. But she could figure that much out for herself.

They claimed to be her parents, and she supposed she believed them, though she didn't particularly feel connected to either one. Still, she decided to trust them with this fact. Lying had no obvious rewards – though, for all she knew, she could be filthy rich and the ultimate target for two middle-aged thieves looking to rob her blind.

Or perhaps she was a princess. She quite preferred that idea.

'Hermione,' the woman, her mother, began. She winced at the name. Honestly, whose brilliant idea had that been? 'How are you feeling?'

'Fine,' she said. She seemed to be a good liar, at least. Her whole body felt tense and stiff, and her head felt like it was going to split in two. 'Could I have a mirror?'

Her mother appeared confused for several moments. It didn't seem to have occurred to her that Hermione would not be able to recall what she looked like.

Hermione studied her reflection. Brown hair, brown eyes. Nice cheek bones, beautiful teeth. She passed judgment on her face the way she would a stranger's, for that was who she was to herself currently, and decided that she was quite pretty.

'I've got pictures,' said her mother. She fumbled with her purse for a moment before passing over a wallet with several pictures inside.

The first picture was of a small girl with bushy hair. She assumed it was a younger version of herself, though she couldn't tell how long ago this photo had been taken. She did not know her current age. Based on her appearance in the mirror, it was obvious that she was no longer in high school. But how much older could she be? Three years? Five?

She examined the photos, all images of herself in various stages of life. She was sometimes posing with her parents, but mostly they featured herself alone. None of them seemed horribly recent and she wondered as to why that was. The edge of another photo was peeking out from behind the first one. She grasped the corner and pulled it out.

She was much older in this picture than in the others – at least three or four years older – and was standing between two handsome young men. The one on her right had messy, jet-black hair and a rather interesting scar on his forehead. The one on her left had red hair and a grin that made her stomach flip.

A name popped into her head, Ron, and with it, memories of a forgotten life returned to her in a flash that made the room spin.

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'Mum?' Ron called, stepping out of the fireplace. An owl had arrived, asking him to please come see his mother as soon as he could.

He went into the kitchen and found Molly Weasley holding a rather lengthy letter, which she immediately thrust toward him. 'This just came from Mrs Granger. It's about Hermione.'

Ron felt himself tense. It had all been so long ago, and he had not thought of her in quite some time. But the very mention of her name still affected him in a way that nothing else could. 'Hermione?' he muttered. 'Is she – I mean, is everything – what's it say?'

'She was in a car accident this morning,' his mum said. Ron felt his heart stop. 'She's fine, of course. Thank Merlin. But she has amnesia.'

Ron glanced down at Mrs Granger's fancy script. The words blurred before him. Connecting the dots on this seemed awfully hard to do. 'So Hermione was in a car accident and remembers nothing. Why is her mum writing to our family?'

'She's writing to you,' Molly said. 'Because it seems that Hermione remembers you.'

'What do you mean?' he asked, his eyes skimming the letter and absorbing none of it. 'Either Hermione's got amnesia or she can remember – which is it?

'She remembered just you, which brought on memories of Hogwarts and Harry and the rest of us,' explained Molly. 'She doesn't remember everything, though, and those Muggle doctors can't do very much to help her along. They said she just has to wait for everything to return. Her mother thinks it might be a good idea if she came to stay here for a little while, just to regain her bearings.'

Ron's head shot up in alarm. 'What?'

'Well … this is more complicated than you understand …'

'Please tell me you didn't invite –'

A voice rang out from the other room. 'Hello?'

Ron glared at his mother. Molly at least had the grace to blush. 'In here, Hermione,' she called. Before she went to greet the new guest, she shot a look of warning to her son. 'Ronald, she doesn't remember what's happened with you two. She – she thinks you lot are still nineteen years old.'

This was impossible. This was not happening. Hermione Granger was not about to walk into his mother's kitchen thinking things were fine and good – not after everything that had happened. 'What?' he repeated for the millionth time this morning.

'As far as Hermione Granger is concerned, you and Harry Potter are still her best friends. She's in a very fragile state right now, and I absolutely forbid you from telling her the truth about anything.'

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The Burrow smelled wonderful. Just like home. Hermione could remember being there only a few days ago, yet it seemed as though several major changes had occurred without warning or reason. Had the table always been in this spot? And were the drapes always that colour?

Mrs Weasley rushed toward her and wrapped her up in a typical Molly hug. She looked at Ron over his mum's shoulder, expecting a similar greeting, but he just stared at her with the expression one wore when a severe emotion battle was playing out below the surface.

Ginny chose this moment to enter through the front door, and when her eyes fell on Hermione, she seemed awfully surprised. 'Hermione,' she said stiffly. She seemed much older for some reason.

But Hermione, although seeing no reason for Mrs Weasley's too-tight hug or Ron's less-than-loving expression or Ginny's peculiar greeting, ignored these obvious signs. She would later wonder how she, the top witch in her class at Hogwarts, did not manage to see this for what it was.

'Hey, Gin,' she said.

Ginny smiled. She did nothing but smile. 'Mum,' she said tensely, and instead of breaking her grin, she awkwardly spoke through it. 'A word? In the other room? Now?' She and Mrs Weasley left the room speaking in hushed tones. Hermione turned her attention to Ron.

'Hey,' she said, going over to him. He did not wrap his arms around her or kiss her or ask if she was all right after her accident. She was missing something, and still she questioned nothing. She did not even wonder why she had been driving a car through Muggle London so early in the morning when she clearly should have been asleep in Ginny's room at The Burrow. She failed to realize that she did not, as far as she knew, even have a driver's license.

'Hi,' he said at last. 'How, um, are you doing?'

'I'm great.' She kissed him and he hardly even responded. 'Are you okay?' she asked. At his shrug, she looked at the empty table and added, 'Where's Harry?'

He stared at her with so much hurt, so much anger, and she still did not understand. Ginny and Mrs Weasley returned to the room, Molly with a tight smile and Ginny's face flushed in anger. Ginny looked at Hermione's position in Ron's arms and made a choking sound. But hadn't Ginny seen them kiss millions of times? Was she really that uncomfortable?

Hermione was distracted by the sound of the door opening. Harry, as if sensing that someone had been asking for his whereabouts, entered the kitchen. She caught the expression on Ginny's face and felt pity. Poor Ginny, was she still in love with Harry after all these years? Hadn't she and Ginny discussed this just the other week, and hadn't her friend stated that she was completely over the wizard in every way?

She watched as Harry entered and embraced Ginny in the exact way Hermione had expected from Ron when she'd come home. Her jaw dropped. What in the world was going on here? Mrs Weasley caught sight of Hermione's look and made to pull both Harry and Ginny out of the room.

'Morning, Harry,' Hermione said amusedly. She expected that her poor friend was about to get quite an intense round of questioning from Ginny's mother about their new relationship.

'Hey, Hermione,' Harry said absently as he struggled confusedly after Molly. He stopped suddenly and whipped around to look at her, shocked. 'Holy f—'

'Now,' Molly said sharply, tugging on his arm.

'Maybe I've got my brain a bit scrambled still,' said Hermione slowly, turning back to her boyfriend. 'But it sure seems like something strange is going on here today.'

'Nah,' said Ron. He didn't take his eyes off hers, but this wasn't the adoring look that he usually reserved for her. 'I, uh – Mum's making lunch. Are you hungry?'

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He couldn't do it. He couldn't sit across from her and watch her chew and swallow and push her hair behind her ear and smile and breathe and be. He couldn't. He had done many things in his life, but he could not do this.

Harry knew. Harry had always been good at sensing when Ron was at his breaking point. But Harry's hands were just as tied as his own today, and under the watchful gaze of Mrs Weasley, they could do nothing.

Even if Ron's mum wasn't there, what could he do? Hermione was in a fragile state, and even after everything, Ron could not do anything to intentionally hurt her. And Harry was in a better position than Ron, having not been wronged the way Ron had been. He was merely shocked at Hermione's returned and concerned for what emotional turmoil this was creating for his best friend. He would not lay awake at night for weeks to come just because the sound of Hermione's laugh was a little fresher on his ears. This would not stop his world from continuing to turn the same way it had just yesterday. He took none of this personally.

And then there was Ginny, who took absolutely everything personally.

'The weather's gorgeous today,' said Hermione. 'Want to go for a swim after we finish eating, Gin?'

'No,' said Ginny. She didn't look up from her plate. She did not even bother to swallow her food before answering.

'Okay,' said Hermione, unfazed. 'Maybe later, then?'

'No,' Ginny said again, harshly.

Hermione frowned in confusion. Ron looked down to hide his smile; Harry coughed. Mrs Weasley cleared her throat in warning.

'I'm full,' Ginny said, but she had hardly even touched her plate. 'I'll be in my room. Come get me when you're ready to leave, Harry.'

She left without glancing at Hermione, and Ron felt an unbelievable affection for his sister just then. Once upon a time, Hermione had been Ginny's closest friend and most trusted companion. But Hermione had hurt Ron rather badly. Clearly, for Ginny, that was enough.

Hermione looked up at Ron. She didn't understand Ginny's aggression, and she especially couldn't understand why it was being directed at her. He felt a strong sense of pity wash over him, and behind it came all of the feelings that always arose whenever he heard her name or stumbled upon an old photo of her mixed in with his other personal effects.

He tried to remember how it felt to be nineteen. He closed his eyes briefly and knew it all in an instant: the anxiety of a life after Hogwarts in which he had to choose a career and get a job; the excitement of getting a flat in London with Harry; and – most vividly – the feeling of Hermione's head on his shoulder at the end of the night.

He thought of the way they had been then, when Saturday afternoon Quidditch games with Harry and stolen moments with Hermione dictated his life. Back when it was unimaginable that he not only may not be with Hermione forever, but may not even be on speaking terms with her. The nineteen-year-old incarnation of himself would despise him, and he felt a sudden overwhelming obligation to the person he had once been.

He would bite his tongue and swallow his pride; he would pretend that all was right in the world. He would pretend that he was nineteen again, that life was prefect and that the future hung before them all, promising and limitless, as though he had no idea what the next few years could hold for them. He would do this because it was the right thing to do, because in some way or another he owed this to Hermione; because regardless of everything he said or thought, he was just as guilty as she.

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The next chapter should be up shortly … hopefully.

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