Starting Over (Ron/Hermione, G) (original) (raw)

TITLE: Starting Over
AUTHOR: Myself
DISCLAIMER: JKR owns all HP
PAIRING: Ron/Hermione
RATING: G
A/N: I've read fics about Harry and Ron each losing their memories, but never one about Hermione. I'm sure they're out there, but inspiration struck, and I wrote one of my own.

She was dreaming. A tall, pale man in black robes, red eyes narrowed to slits, striding across a hall filled with shouting, gesturing people waving sticks at one another. Jets of light in all different colors shot from those sticks, ricocheting around the room. She was running, trying to follow the tall man, because he was trying to get to someone, someone she had to reach before he did, someone she had to help. Suddenly a red light enveloped her and she was flying across the hall, away from that terrible man, and then-

She awoke with a start, sweat prickling her body. The room around her was dark and unfamiliar. She tried to get up, but she couldn’t leave the bed. She struggled, panicking-what was this? Some strange force was holding her in place, preventing her from moving.

The light flicked on and a kind-looking man came into her vision. “Shh, my dear. Sleep is what you need right now.” He drew a stick from his belt and pointed it at her. “Somnos!” And the room faded out as she sank once more into sleep.

*******************************

“D’you think she’s awake?” An anxious male voice interrupted her sleep.

“Gee, Ronniekins, what does it look like?” A second boy spoke, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

“I dunno, Fred, you can see where he might have trouble, I mean-her eyes are closed-”

“Right you are, George, and she’s breathing deeply-”

“Indeed, and totally unresponsive to us-”

“She couldn’t be sleeping, oh no! She must be awake.”

“Shut it,” the first boy grumbled, as the other two snickered.

She opened her eyes, wondering who the boys were, and how they knew her. To her surprise, she found that she could move, so she sat up. They didn’t notice her at once, and she took that moment to look them over.

The boys in question were all shockingly red-headed and covered in freckles. One of them was slouched on the couch against the wall opposite her bed, staring glumly down his long nose at the floor. The other two boys, who looked exactly alike, were whispering to each other at the other end of the couch. A moment later, one of them looked up and leapt to his feet.

“Hermione! Ron, she’s awake!” he yelled excitedly, and rushed to the bed. She shrank away from him. Who was this boy? He stopped dead, frowning. “What’s wrong? Hermione, it’s just me! It’s Fred? You do remember me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, and I’m George-his twin, and infinitely handsomer,” said the other, stepping up beside him. The joke didn’t even register. She stared from one to the other. They obviously knew her-why couldn’t she remember them? Her eyes fell on the third boy, who’d got to his feet and stood frozen behind the twins, gazing at her with such intensity that she felt herself blush.

Fred-or was it George?-snickered. “Looks like she at least remembers Ron.”

Ron. That was his name. “Ron,” she said. “Ron.” A cozy red room, with tapestries adorning the walls. They stood face to face, feet apart, yelling at each other. “You know what the solution is, then, Ron?” “What?” “Next time, get up the courage to ask me before someone else does!”

She shook her head violently as the image subsided. It had been so vivid, so real. “Who am I?” she whispered. The question echoed through the silent room, and she saw the expressions on the faces of the boys before her change to shock. For the first time, the one named Ron spoke.

“Hermione, are you saying you don’t remember us?”

“I don’t remember you. I don’t remember anything. Nothing!” Panic boiled within her and she looked wildly at each of their faces in turn. “I don’t know who I am, what I’m doing here, and they keep putting me to sleep and not telling me what’s going on!” Her voice rose in pitch until she was screaming. “What’s happened to me? What is this place? I want some answers!”

The door banged open and a woman rushed in, followed by a man, a boy and the same man from the night before. He took out that thin stick again and pointed it at her, but she knew what that meant by now and dived off the bed, escaping the jet of golden light by inches. The twins caught her and her momentum sent them all crashing to the floor. She scrambled up as they groaned, the wind knocked out of them. Where could she hide?

Suddenly, Ron’s arms were around her. She gave a startled squeak and began to struggle, but he squeezed her tightly, whispering in her ear, “Hermione, it’s okay. It’s all right, do you hear me? I’ll protect you.” His voice was warm, deep and reassuring, and she felt her body relax. This one, at least, she could trust. Somehow she knew that instinctively. He looked at the man with the stick, still holding her. “I don’t think she needs to sleep anymore, Healer. Her body’s recovered, obviously.”

“Well, that is true. She seems to have full range of movement, and certainly doesn’t seem to be suffering any pain.” The Healer stowed the stick in his belt and looked at Ron. “However, there is one complication. It seems that her memory-”

“-Is gone. Yeah, we figured that one out,” Fred chimed in, getting to his feet and helping George up.

“Her memory’s been erased? But how?” The woman who had just entered gazed at the Healer with concern. This woman was on the short side, rather plump, with red hair the same color as the boy’s. In fact, the man with her also had red hair. They must be the mother and father. “When the spells hit her, you said she flew through the air and hit her head on a wall, correct?” The Healer asked. The woman nodded. “We’ve come to the conclusion that the effect of the spells combined with the impact on her cranium was what caused her to lose her memory. However, this means that she has an excellent chance of regaining her memory, since the loss was not caused by an actual Oblivating spell. We did have to Petrify her constantly though, because whenever she woke, she would panic because she didn’t know where she was. If she moved, it would have undone all the healing she’d gone through under our sleeping spells.”

Hermione heard this, frowning. Spells? Then her eye fell upon the boy who had entered with the man and woman. He did not have red hair-his was coal black and unruly. He stared at her through round glasses perched crookedly on his nose. His eyes were bright green, and she felt a strong rush of attachment. She knew him.

“What’s your name?” she asked him. Cautiously Ron opened his arms, and she left him, crossing the floor to stand in front of this new boy.

“Harry-Harry Potter.” He bit his lip, staring at her. _Fire flickered around them, black flames on one side and purple on the other. “You’re a great wizard, Harry.” He shook his head. “You’re much better than me, Hermione.” She snorted. “Books, and cleverness-there are much more important things-things like friendship, and bravery-”_“I knew you.”

“Yeah-we were-_are_-best mates,” he corrected himself. “You, me and Ron. Well, you and Ron were involved. Sort of. Not really. You liked each other, but you never did anything about it, you just bickered all the time, and-” he stopped, looking apprehensive. She felt the sudden urge to hug him, and did so. He hugged her back, tentatively.

“And my name is Hermione?” she asked, looking around at the group.

“Hermione Granger. You’re Muggle-born, but you can do magic. We all went Hogwarts together and we were in Gryffindor House-” Harry’s words rushed out, bewildering Hermione even further.

“Muggle? Hogwarts? Gryffindor?” Her head was starting to hurt. This was too much, all at once, and it didn’t help at all, because even though it all sounded important, she didn’t know why it was important.

For the first time, the red-headed man spoke. “Why don’t we give Hermione some room,” he said kindly, and she smiled at him gratefully. She liked him, she knew that much, even though she didn’t know his name. He turned to the Healer. “Can we bring her back to our home? She’s healed in body, if not in mind, but I can’t think that being around familiarity would do her harm-in fact, it might help her memory along,” he said. The Healer nodded. He waved the stick again and clothes appeared, then a curtain. This at least was understandable to Hermione. She stepped behind the curtain and quickly dressed, slipping out of the hospital gown and into a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt. The she came back out.

The red-headed man smiled at her. “We’ll take you by car. I’m afraid our regular modes of transport might be a bit-ah, overwhelming.” He took her arm and ushered her out, and the rest fell in behind.

The rest of the day was a blur. She came to the Burrow, as they all called it. The Burrow was messy and cozy, full of colors and knick-knacks and the smell of baking bread. They ate dinner together, crammed around a small table not nearly big enough , especially not once the rest of the Weasley family arrived. She memorized their names, figuring she might try and remember at least that much about them: Ginny, the youngest and only daughter. Bill and Charlie, the two oldest brothers, and Percy, who was the next oldest.

“They’re helping to rebuild Hogwarts,” Mrs. Weasley explained. Her name was Molly, Hermione had learned. She was kind, if she did fuss a bit, and Hermione instantly liked her. Mr. Weasley, whose name was Arthur, was equally nice.

“What’s Hogwarts?” Hermione asked curiously.

“It’s the school where you all went,” Molly replied, and left it at that.

*****************************

Over the next few days, Hermione grew used to the Burrow. It was strange and yet familiar, foreign to her and yet felt inexplicably like home. Hermione had by now grown accustomed to these feelings-she had them on a daily basis, and the boy called Ron had told her that this was to be expected. “You probably feel that way because you spent so much time here-it’s only natural you still have a memory attachment. That’s what Dad says anyway,” he had added.

“But why did I lose my memory in the first place?” she asked him one day, a week after she’d left the hospital. He was silent for a moment and seemed to be struggling with some internal voice. Then he motioned for her to follow him outside.

They left the warmth and chatter of the kitchen, where the rest of the family and Harry was milling around before dinner. Ron sat down on the wooden bench on the lawn just outside, and Hermione joined him.

“Mum thinks we ought to acclimate you gradually, you know. Just give you bits and pieces. She’s worried we might overload you. But I think it’s only more confusing that way.” He drew a deep breath. “To tell you why you lost your memory, I’ll have to tell you an awful lot you don’t remember. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

She looked at him, and her mind was already made up. How else would she ever regain her memory if she didn’t know about her past? After all, knowledge was power. “Yes,” she said firmly.

“All right. Well, a few months ago, there was a war going on. “ He paused. “No, I’ll have to go back even further. Hmm. Okay. Hermione, you and I, my family, all the people we know-are part of the magical community of Britain. Muggles are what we call all the people born without magic. They don’t know we exist. At the age of eleven, the children who possess magical powers are sent off to Hogwarts, the wizarding school of Britain. That’s where you, me, and Harry went. That’s where we learn spells, how to control our magic, you know-useful stuff. Hogwarts students are Sorted into four Houses when they arrive-Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. The three of us were in Gryffindor.”

Hermione stared at him. “I’m a witch? Then why haven’t I done any magic?”

“Well, your wand was broken when you were hurt. See, our community was in a great battle, fought at Hogwarts. There was an evil wizard who’d taken over in years past, and he’d been defeated once by Harry, but he’d risen again, so Harry had to fight and do away with him once and for all.”

“What was the evil wizard’s name?”

Ron swallowed. “Vol-Voldemort,” he said uncomfortably.

Hermione felt a great wave of fear and anger rise within her at the sound of the name, and picture flashed into her mind-a tall, pale man with red eyes and slits for nostrils striding across a great Hall, striding towards Harry. She had to protect him, had to get to him-

“No! No!” She was crouched on the ground, hands clutching her arms, rocking back and forth. Ron was kneeling beside her, shaking her shoulder. “Hermione! Hermione, it’s all right-”

“I remember him!” she cried. “He was going to hurt Harry-and I- I didn’t stop him!”

“It’s all right! Harry fought him, and defeated him. Voldemort is dead for good now. You couldn’t have helped Harry-you were hit by at least three Stunning Spells in the midst of the fight. You flew across the hall and hit your head-I thought-” His voice cracked. “I thought you were dead,” he finished in a whisper. Their eyes met and she felt again the rush of attachment she felt when she had first looked at Harry, but it was subtly different in some way she couldn’t quite name. She wanted to protect Ron, to hold him forever, to feel his body against hers and know they would never be apart. She reached out tentatively and brushed his cheek with her hand, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

“Harry said we were…involved?” she questioned him.

“We were-and we weren’t. We were too stupid-No. I was too stupid. I could never get my act together, and we were always arguing. God, was I an idiot!” Ron was staring into the distance now, and his hand moved unconsciously up to curl around her own. “There were so many times I could have kicked myself, when I had a perfect opportunity to kiss you and didn’t. So many things I could have said and so many times I could have said them, and then when I saw you get hit, I thought, now I’ll never get to say them.” His blue eyes turned to her and she felt she couldn’t breathe, like a fist was squeezing her heart. “And when we took you to St. Mungo’s, and they said you were alive, I was so happy. But now you’re here and you don’t remember anything, you don’t remember me or us-” Tears were rolling down his cheeks now and Hermione felt her own eyes fill. She couldn’t stand this, couldn’t stand seeing him cry-he was Ron, he was dense and awkward and short-tempered but he never cried, and-

Two boys in a train compartment. She walked in-”Have you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one-”

In a bathroom, crying, because nobody liked her-a thud, and she looked up to see a huge troll standing over her, and then-”Hermione! Duck!” Harry and Ron were there, brandishing wands-

She scribbled “pipes” quickly on the paper and rushed out of the library. She knew what the monster was, she had to tell them-

"Hermione! What’s wrong?” Ron's voice broke in.

“Nothing! Everything’s right! I remember now!” She yelled. She was on her feet, and the memories kept coming, pouring through her in a flood, a rush of images.

“Scabbers!” Ron was running after his rat, and then a giant black dog was there, bounding past them, dragging Ron into a hole at the base of the Whomping Willow-

They flew away with minutes to spare, Sirius hanging on to Buckbeak’s neck feathers and whooping with joy-

“Have you figured out the egg yet, Harry?” He nodded. “Oh yeah, I’m nearly there-”

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London-

Orbs falling and smashing everywhere, and they were all running for the exit, Ginny and Neville ahead of her, and the Death Eaters nowhere to be seen-

A campsite in a dreary forest-

“Ron! Come back! Come back!-”

_And Voldemort running, running across the Great Hall, running toward Harry._She opened her eyes, and shut them again quickly. Blinding sunlight was streaming in from somewhere, and she could hardly see. Spots danced on the inside of her eyelids.

“George! Shut the curtains!”

“Yes, Mum.”

She heard a rustling and the light dimmed. She opened her eyes again and saw the Weasleys and Harry sitting anxiously around her bed. Sitting up, she looked at each of them in turn, their unmistakable flaming hair, their freckles. Harry’s dark hair-always so messy-and green eyes, that familiar lightning bolt scar. A smile split her face, and an instant later her head was splitting too as the headache hit her.

“Merlin’s pants-that hurts!” She pressed a hand to her forehead, and was annoyed to hear them all burst out laughing. “What’s funny? My head is killing me! Was this how it felt all the time, Harry?”He smiled back at her. “Oh, maybe a bit worse, and it wasn’t a good thing. But pain in your head is bloody brilliant!”

“What?! Harry, you can’t be serious-”

And he leaned forward and grabbed her in a hug. “I never thought I’d be so glad to hear that tone in your voice, Hermione.”

“I’ve already contacted the Healers at St. Mungo’s,” Mr. Weasley added as Harry let her go. “And they said it’s to be expected, after such a rush of memory.”

“A rush of memory that scared the piss out of me, I might add.” She looked toward the voice, and met Ron’s eyes. He was smiling at her nervously. Behind his back, she saw Mrs. Weasley signal to the rest of the group, and suddenly they all seemed to realize they all had something to do.

“But we’re glad you’re back, Hermione,” Ginny said, squeezing her hand as the rest departed. She looked at Ron and gave Hermione a wink. “Ron most of all, I bet!” She dashed laughing from the room as he started forward threateningly.

Then she and Ron were alone, and they looked at each other. Ron opened his mouth several times, but no sound came out, though she did notice the tips of his ears slowly turning bright red. She waited, feeling more and more impatient with each passing second. It was an all-too-familiar sensation, and she knew this had happened many times before. Well, she wasn’t about to let it happen again, especially not after they’d gone through so much to reach this point.

“Honestly, Ronald!” The exclamation left her lips before she knew it and Ron looked startled. She didn’t give him time to react any further. Reaching out, she grabbed a fistful of his sweater and dragged him onto the bed. They were inches apart for a moment, just staring at each other, and then she kissed him.

His lips were soft, and he kissed her back hesitantly, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it was actually happening. Well, she’d show him. This moment had been a long time coming, and she remembered that much, even if she didn’t quite recall all the specifics just yet. That would come eventually. But for now, she enjoyed the feeling of his lips on hers, and his arms around her, just the way she knew she’d always imagined it.