A/N: All things HP-related belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing her world for fun.
Originally written and posted at the hphg_ficathon on LiveJournal.
For thephotoman- Happy Birthday!
Once, Twice, and Forever
Part 1: The Persistence of Memory
Ever afterwards, Hermione and Harry referred to the day of the Hogwarts Alumnae Quidditch Match as "that day", Hermione usually with a shudder of remembrance.
Hogwarts was celebrating the 700th anniversary of the Quidditch Cup, and to do so, had arranged for a special Quidditch match between two teams made up of some of the best Quidditch players from Hogwarts history, that were still living, of course. It would also include a moment of silence in respect for those great Quidditch players who weren't living, people like Wronski who had transferred into Hogwarts from Durmstrang and was considered, therefore, to be an honorary Hogwarts Quidditch star. (Harry had been pleasantly surprised to find that James Potter was listed as one of those Quidditch greats, as the person who had Captained the Gryffindor team to the most consecutive victories: 9 to be exact, 3 games in 3 years.) And Harry had, naturally, been asked to be the Seeker for one of the teams.
The day and the game started out well. The weather was beautiful, one of those perfect balmy Scottish autumn days that were rare and so appreciated, perfect for Quidditch. Hermione had enjoyed seeing the sheer excitement on Harry's face at the idea of playing what amounted to a game of professional Quidditch for the first time, plus he was enjoying playing with Charlie Weasley and Oliver Wood again, too. All the Weasleys had, of course, turned out to watch, with a good number of reporters, people from the Ministry Department of Magical Games and Sports, and even Viktor Krum. (Hermione couldn't help a slight blush when she heard Viktor was coming, even though she knew both Harry and Ron had turned to look at her with matching teasing grins, although Harry's grin was belied by his squeezing her hand.)
The game had been an exciting one, the two teams well-matched, as even Hermione with her modicum of Quidditch knowledge and interest could see.
Hermione always wondered, somewhat superstitiously, if in some odd way, she was partly to blame for what happened. She had sent Harry off with a kiss and a "Good luck, Harry" and not her usual "Be careful." True, her saying "be careful" hadn't exactly prevented Harry from having Quidditch injuries before but she couldn't help wondering in some small illogical part of her mind if maybe, just maybe, if she had said "be careful" instead of "good luck" Harry wouldn't have been so badly hurt. Illogical, yes, but as Hermione was the first to acknowledge, Harry had always been the weak point in her logical thinking, because no logic could ever explain the way she felt around him, the way she felt about him.
All Hermione knew for certain was that she died a hundred times in the few seconds from first seeing the Bludger heading straight for Harry, to seeing it hit him straight on his shoulder, to watching in horror as Harry, taken completely by surprise as his attention had been focused on the Snitch that he had just sighted and was just then diving for, fell, as if in slow motion, the hundred meters or so to the ground, to hit the ground head first with a sickening thud. Afterwards she never quite knew how she got from the special box seats where she and the Weasleys had been seated, high up in the stands to afford the best view, to Harry's side on the field. She could have jumped, sprouted wings, crawled, and she wouldn't have known it or remembered it. All she knew at the time and all she remembered was the one thought that literally seemed to be burning a hole in her brain and her heart: Harry, oh dear God, Harry. Let him be alright, please, dear Merlin, let him be alright...
Hermione paced back and forth in the waiting room of St. Mungo's. Dear Merlin, how much longer was she going to have to wait? How much longer until she could see Harry for herself and see how he was doing? How much longer-
Her nervous train of thought was cut off when Ron said, gently, "Hermione, please stop pacing; you're making me exhausted just looking at you."
Hermione didn't stop, only paused before continuing. She needed to keep moving, just so she wouldn't feel so helpless.
"Harry wouldn't want you to tire yourself out pacing like this."
The mention of Harry stopped Hermione when nothing else had. She collapsed into a chair beside Ron, giving him a wan attempt at a smile. "Sorry, Ron."
He patted her hand gently. "It's going to be okay. It's Harry; it'll take more than a Bludger to do him in when even Voldemort couldn't do it."
Hermione smiled a little sadly and sighed. It was evidence of how preoccupied Ron was that he could say Voldemort's name without a trace of hesitation or a stutter.
Violet Connelly, the Healer, paused before she entered the waiting room where she knew Harry Potter's friends and fiancée were waiting. Of all the duties she had to perform in her work at St. Mungo's, talking to the families and friends was the worst, and this one even more than usual. Violet closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself, before she straightened her shoulders and, opening the door, entered the room.
Hermione leaped up when a women entered, dressed in the lime-green St. Mungo's robes. She took one look at her face and blindly reached out for something-anything, felt Ron grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, even as she realized in some corner of her mind that her mind automatically wanted to turn to Harry for support. Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself and then asked, "How is he?"
Violet turned towards the young woman whom she recognized as being Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's equally famous fiancée, and managed a smile. "He'll be just fine. He had a broken bone on his upper arm and a dislocated shoulder, which have been perfectly healed, although the area will retain some bruising and sensitivity for a few days. That's the good news." She paused. "The bad news is Mr. Potter has a case of amnesia, to use laymen's terms. He doesn't recall anything that happened after the defeat of Voldemort. While there are certain charms and spells purported to restore the memory, in a case of mild amnesia, such as Mr. Potter's, especially when caused by a blow to the head, we are extremely careful about using them. The human mind is a fragile thing and even with our level of magical skill, those charms are very difficult and very risky, more often than not resulting in further memory loss rather than a cure. In such cases as these, the best advice is to try to make the person feel as comfortable as possible, in familiar surroundings with familiar people. In many cases, the person's memory will be restored either gradually or suddenly on seeing some object or thing of special meaning to them. These things are hard to predict, but given Mr. Potter's general good health, I am quite optimistic that he will experience a full recovery of his memories before very long."
Hermione's mind was racing. She hardly heard the rest of what the Healer was saying after hearing that Harry didn't remember anything that happened since Voldemort's defeat. It had been more than a year since then. About a year and four months. An eventful year and four months, at that. Oh dear Merlin, poor Harry. To have just forgotten a year and more of his life…
She felt a brief irrational surge of anger at the fates. Hadn't Harry already suffered more than enough in his nearly 20 years of life?
So much had happened since they had left Hogwarts… The three of them had moved into a flat that Harry had mostly paid for, insisting over her and Ron's protests that it was his way of buying himself a home and who else could he share it with but his two best friends; she and Harry had fallen in love- or at least had realized that they were in love; gotten engaged only 7 months after that; Ron had moved out, joining the twins since they had bought themselves a large house just outside London, using the excess of room there as an excuse, although both she and Harry knew it was to give them some privacy…
It had been the happiest year of her life. And Harry's too, she knew, because he'd told her so… And he'd lost his memory of it due to the ill-fated timing of a Bludger hit away from one of the Chasers and unintentionally right in the way of Harry's dive toward the Snitch.
Harry was lying in a bed just rooms away from them and he didn't know that they were engaged. The ramifications of that bald fact suddenly hit her and Hermione felt her knees weaken and Ron slip a supporting hand under her arm. He didn't know they were engaged. He didn't know they were engaged. The words seemed to pound through her brain and her heart, and though she knew no one, least of all Harry, was to blame, she couldn't help but be hurt that he had forgotten their love.
She had a sudden, fleeting memory of the moment when she'd known that she loved him, was in love with him…
His skin was against hers, for the first time, nothing between them, nothing separating them, just skin against skin. She couldn't believe this was happening, that she was doing this, this most intimate of acts, with Harry of all people. Although, in some corner of her mind, she wasn't surprised. Harry was already the person who knew her the best and whom she knew the best; they were only continuing on that path, learning the one thing about Harry that she didn't know- his body.
Harry kissed his way back up her body, pausing the last moment before he entered her, to ask breathlessly, "Are you sure?"
She looked into his eyes, the green, green eyes that she'd seen in every mood over the past 7 years and now was seeing dark with desire and lust, and she nodded. "Just love me." The small part of her mind that was still thinking clearly, thought she had meant to say, 'make love to me' but had truncated that, but she knew even as she thought it, that she meant what she had said, in every way. She wanted Harry to love her, not just with his body but with his heart.
He understood. His eyes widened slightly, before he breathed, "I do," and it was a promise, a confession and a vow all at once, and then he kissed her on the mouth with tenderness and with passion…
Hermione came back to the present with a small gasp to realize that the Healer had just said that they could see Harry now. She took a deep breath and followed the Healer as she left the waiting room.
The Healer left Hermione at the door to Harry's room with a sympathetic smile, and with a pause to steel her shoulders, Hermione opened the door and walked in, pasting a bright smile on her face.
Harry was sitting up in bed, looking a little pale and uncertain but otherwise ok. He smiled when he saw her. "Hi."
Hermione restrained her first impulse to kiss Harry and satisfied herself with a brief peck on his cheek, as she said, "Harry, thank goodness you're ok. We were so worried when we saw you fall."
Harry gave her a crooked grin. "I seem to make a habit of falling off brooms in the middle of Quidditch games."
Hermione refrained from saying that actually, he hadn't fallen off a broom since he'd left Hogwarts since he hadn't been in a real professional Quidditch game in the last year and 4 months, and only nodded, realizing fully just what it meant that Harry had amnesia.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked, making a little gesture to the bandage on his head.
"I- I don't know." He looked up at her and she wanted to cry for the confusion on his face. "I just can't believe it. I mean, it feels so strange… It's October of 1999… but in my head it's still June of 1998. There's nothing after that; it's all just… blank." For a moment, Hermione suddenly thought she knew what he must have looked like whenever the Dursleys locked him in the closet under the stairs before he'd come to Hogwarts, a lost little boy. And the fact that this was Harry, Harry who had only just begun to really enjoy his life, to feel as if he could enjoy his life, broke her heart. It just wasn't fair… But then life had never been fair to Harry. Not from the moment he'd been born under a curse to either kill or be killed, not from the moment his parents had been murdered and Headmaster Dumbledore had left a year-old baby on his aunt and uncle's doorstep… And Fate wasn't being fair now, when Harry who had already endured so much and fought so hard to be able to live the life he was living now, to be able to love without fear, was being made to endure more…
Hermione finally broke the silence that had fallen as she silently railed against Fate, putting a gentle hand on his arm. "It'll be okay, Harry. Ron and I will help you remember everything." She managed a smile. "We've been with you for everything so far; we won't leave you now just because you can't remember what happened in the past 16 months."
He managed a smile, the lost look in his eyes lightening, and she suddenly remembered that Ron and the Weasleys must be waiting anxiously outside. "Let me get Ron and the Weasleys; they're just outside."
Hermione sank down into a chair to compose herself while Ron and the Weasleys visited Harry. Her mind was starting to work again, to think about what they would have to do, how they would have to change their lives to get through this. She'd have to talk with Ron, to see about his temporarily moving back in with her and Harry, since she had no doubt that Harry would feel more comfortable with Ron around. She'd have to move her things into her old bedroom again, get some extensions on deadlines for her research in the next few weeks… And somehow she was going to have to treat Harry as only a platonic friend…