The real HOPE, sry, but some background is going to have to wait till later. I hope you won't mind too terribly much!
Dunetoo20, to be perfectly honest, I'm not quite used to having Harry singing either! But that's allright, I'm hoping to get comfortable with that soon, lol.
Ashley, I'm glad you like the music and lyrics. Thanks for the compliments about the lyrics!
Thanks to SilverMoonlight, tracie1976, traydrvic, HnH4EvA19, phoewolfnix, Kaydeek70, kw702955, KypDurron, mikeus, skellig, PilarMagic, and kensit for your supporting comments!
Thanks to all you anonymous reviewers as well!
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Isn't Enough
Chapter Two: Found
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(Harry)
I could hear the mutters and cursings of the Weasleys standing beside me, but I paid no attention. The only thing I could focus on was the poster across from me, the poster of a girl playing the cello. Before I could comprehend what I was doing I was walking across the street, oblivious to the traffic.
"Harry!" I heard Ginny's voice scream, faintly, as if from a distance.
I stepped up to the poster, my eyes raking the image in front of me. It was a young girl about our age, with curly brown hair cascading down her back, gentle brown eyes peering down at her music, a cello snuggled in between her legs as her face was set in beautiful concentration.
It was Hermione. I traced her face with my hand, lost for words. I felt Ron's presence beside me, his breathing a steady tempo.
"It's her," I muttered, breathless.
"I know," was the only thing Ron could say. "I know."
We stood there for a while, after the rest of the Weasleys had joined us, staring at the poster.
"C'mon Harry, we better get going," Fred said hesitantly.
"No, I think I'm going to stay here. I'll meet you guys back home soon."
"Harry, you-"
"I'll meet up with you guys later," I said again, a little more forcefully. They nodded, and after walking into an empty alley, apparated to a portkey point.
"You want me to stay with you, Harry?" Ron asked, setting a hand on my shoulder.
"No, I'll be fine," I muttered, smiling at him.
"Bring her back to us, Harry," Ron replied, his voice cracking. I nodded.
It's all I could do.
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(Hermione)
"Good, good job," our conductor said as he stopped us. I had been in rehearsal for hours now, getting ready for my concert tomorrow as a solo cello with the New York philharmonic orchestra. "I think that's enough," he finally said, staking his music in his bag as he motioned for us to leave.
I nodded, packing away my things and setting my cello gently in its holder. As I rolled my cello out I opened the front door, smiling at the sun and enjoying the breeze. As I was about to turn left and walk to my apartment I heard someone yell, "Hermione!"
For some reason, I turned around instinctively. Startled at what I had just done I searched for a familiar face. "Hermione!" a raven haired man yelled again, running to me. Suddenly I was enveloped in a hug, his face buried in my hair.
"Get the hell away from me!" I screamed, pushing him away.
"Hermione!" he said, and I saw that he had tears in his eyes. "It's me!"
"I don't know who me is," I snapped, angrily pushing the hair out of my face. "Who do you think you are, mauling me on the street! I don't know who the fuck you are!"
"You...you don't recognize me?" he whispered, his eyes wide. "It's me, Hermione! Harry!"
"I don't know a Harry," I said, turning away from him.
"Wait!" he screamed, grabbing my arm. "Don't you remember me? Hermione! It's Harry! Harry Potter!"
"Get off of me!" I screamed, trying to get him off.
"You're name's Hermione Jane Granger," he said, hurriedly. "You were born September 19. You're a Gryffindor, you went to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for seven years, you were my best friend! You're favorite color is blue, you love reading a big, dusty book by the fireplace with a cup of chocolate cocoa with three marshmallows and Crookshanks at your feet, Hermione, you-"
"Stop calling me that!" I finally wrenched my arm out of his grasp. I was breathing heavily, and as I raised my eyes to tell him off, I caught sight of his brilliant, bright green eyes.
"I love you, Hermione," he whispered, his eyes staring into mine as he leaned in for a kiss...
"Stop it!" I screamed, backing away from him. Where the hell had that memory come from? The guy, who I presumed was Harry, stepped towards me, his mouth set in a grim line.
"You...seriously don't remember," he muttered, and I could hear the despair in his voice.
"Well..." I began, tugging on a lock of hair. "I-"
"Lucy?" I twirled around, glad to finally see someone that proved to me the stability of my life.
"George," I said, hugging him. He leaned in for a kiss and I gave him a peck, noticing Harry's shoulders go rigid from the corner of my eye.
"Who's this?" George asked, eyeing the man behind me.
"Oh, he was just, um-"
"I'm Harry Potter," he said, raising his hand to shake George's. "I'm a childhood friend of Herm-Lucy's. We used to go to school together."
"Oh, of course," he said, smiling at me. "So, what school was this? Lucy has yet to tell me."
Please, oh Merlin please...
"We went to Hogwarts, a...uh...private school in London," Harry said, looking at me intently. "The outskirts of London."
"Oh, that would explain the English accent," George said, laughing. I saw Harry's shoulders tense up even more, before he swallowed and curled up his fists.
"Can I ask, George, exactly who you are to Lucy?" I heard him ask.
"Oh, well, of course you can," George replied, grinning. "I'm Lucy's fiancé."
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(Harry)
I portkeyed to England, apparating a half mile to stand right in front of the Burrow property. Sticking my hands in my pockets I walked in, my hair obscuring my vision.
"Harry?" I heard Ron's voice. I turned around to find Ron sitting in an armchair in front of the fire, a book in his hand. I recognized the book immediately. Hogwarts, a History. I smiled involuntarily.
"Hey, Ron."
"How...how are you?" I sighed, my gaze wandering to the fire.
In an empty voice, I recited, "Her name's Lucy Crimson."
"What?"
"She's a solo cellist and principle cellist of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. She lives in New York City and she's..." I swallowed, walking to the chair opposite Ron's and sitting down. "And she's engaged to George Handerson."
"Harry, what the bloody hell are you talking about?"
"She doesn't remember a damn thing, Ron," I whispered, my eyes clenched shut.
"No...but Hermione, she's...you sure it was her?"
"You honestly think I could confuse her for some random girl?" Ron fell silent then, shaking his head.
"She must've lost her memory, then," Ron answered, turning his attention back to the fire.
"But we can't do anything about that, Ron," I muttered, sobs begging to come out. "She has a new life now. She's forgotten about us. We don't mean a damn thing to her anymore..."
"Come on Harry," Ron whispered, walking towards me. "You and I both know the second Hermione remembers, she'll come running back. She loved you... whoever this George fellow is, she doesn't care about him that much"
"It's been four years, Ron," I managed to get out as tears stained my face. "Four fucking years. If she can't remember in four years...then..."
"It's because there's been nothing to trigger her memories," a voice said. Ginny walked into the room then, her hand settling itself on my shoulder. "Amnesia requires one to be forced to remember...in America, she doesn't have anything that would remind her of her old life."
I didn't answer. Ron sighed, picking up Hermione's book gingerly as he ran his hand across the cover softly.
"I have a potion you could give her, Harry. It was recently made to reverse the effects of amnesia; a coworker of mine at St. Mungo's discovered it.
"I doubt she'd want to take it, at least from a complete...stranger..." I spat the last word out as if it was poison.
"Harry," Ron whispered. "Where did you say she lived?"
"I don't know, I didn't bother to ask," I replied. Ron looked at me, scrutinizing, until he dropped the book and walked to me in two strides, taking a hold of my cloak and pushing me against the wall.
"Ron!" Ginny screamed, looking at him in surprise. "What the bloody hell-"
"You bloody bastard!" Ron yelled at me, his face masking anger.
"What the fucking hell are you talking about!" I screamed back, but not being nearly as tall as Ron I couldn't fight him.
"You're not the only one hurting here Harry!" Ron yelled, nearly spitting in outrage. "When Hermione disappeared, you're not the only one who was bloody affected!" Ron let go of me then, backing away slowly. "You finally found her, and you're just going to give up? You care about her that little?"
"Don't you ever say that to me," I muttered, glaring at Ron. "I love her!"
"Then fucking show it!" Ron screamed. "You're just going to give up, just let things be?! I'm going to go to New York City and remind Hermione exactly who she is, who she was! I'm going to bring her back, and if you choose to sit here and blubber, so be it!"
"She doesn't care about us anymore, Ron!" I yelled back. "She has a new life now! She has George! She doesn't need us!"
"She has a fake life now, Harry," Ron whispered, his eyes continuing to glare at me. "Nobody is anything without his past. And Hermione, that's the one thing she doesn't have. We owe it to her to at least give her the choice. And if she chooses her new one, so be it. But I'm telling you now, Harry, you're a fucking coward if you're not going to do anything about it."
Ginny, who had watched the entire thing, took a vial out of her pocket and gave it to me. I stared at it in my hand, its pearly blue color reflecting against my hand.
"So what do you say, Harry," Ron finally said, picking up Hermione's book and putting it in the bag he conjured up. Walking around the room he also picked up her wand, and walking up to the fireplace, took a few framed photographs.
I remained silent for a bit, staring at the vial, until I got up, facing Ron.
"Let's go."
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