Title: Accio Memory
Authors: Amethyst and Goldy
Category: Romance
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Spoilers: Books 1-5. Duh.
Disclaimer: Still not ours.
Summary: Ron thinks Hermione needs to relax. It has consequences. Bad consequences. *points to title* It might have something to do with memory.
A/N: This was written for the LJ community fanfict00bs, in which a new fic is posted every Monday. We decided to do a joint-fic when the two of us discovered we'd be the only posters for several weeks. It's been a blast writing this and we're terribly excited to finally be able to post to PK. We each did a chapter a week and, no, we won't tell you who wrote which chapter-what would be the fun in that?
Harry felt like he was underwater and the world was continuing around without him. Up until now, it had been a rush of colours and noise, blurring together into a memory that was hazy.
They'd been on their way up from the Great Hall after breakfast. Like normal. They'd been laughing and talking and joking. Like normal. They'd clambered in through the portrait hole. Like normal.
"What happened?"
Harry felt McGonagall's question being asked more than he heard it.
When Hermione seized up and fell unconscious it hadn't been normal. Not for a healthy seventeen-year-old girl who had been joking and laughing with her best friends only a minute ago.
She slept on a hospital bed only fifteen feet away, her eyes closed and chest moving up and down to the steady rhythm of her breath. At least, Harry hoped her chest was moving up and down-he couldn't be certain from where he was sitting, even if he squinted his eyes and thrust his neck forward.
And here it was, the question he'd been waiting for. What happened?
"Yeah." Harry heard himself speak and his voice sounded far away. "What did happen?"
"You don't know?" Professor McGonagall repeated, sounding at the end of her patience.
Madam Pomfrey tutted. "Mr. Potter, the only way we're going to be able to help Miss Granger is if we have all the information. As best I can tell, she's simply in a deep sleep."
"She's not just sleeping," Harry said. "I'm sure of it."
"Very well, then, young man," Madam Pomfrey. "Do tell us what happened."
"I told you," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably in the small plastic chair. It was unnerving to have both Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey staring at him with narrowed eyes. "I don't know." Harry jerked his head to his right. "But Ron does."
With an audible snap, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned their attention to Ron. The redhead clenched his hands in his lap and stared at the floor.
"It was my fault," he managed, in a strangled voice.
Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey glanced at Harry for confirmation. "Yeah," Harry said, less than thrilled with his best mate. "He's telling the truth."
Ron turned a pasty white colour.
"It was the twins," Ron said. "They thought it would… I didn't think… I never wanted…"
"Mr. Weasley!" Professor McGonagall said. "Are you telling me that you tested one of your brothers products on Miss Granger?"
"Well," Ron whispered, looking like he might run away. "I thought she needed to relax some."
"Relax?"
"It's just…" Ron looked at Harry for help. Harry glared at him. "She's so high-strung. Hermione, I mean. All the time, especially with N.E.W.T.'s coming up. I thought she could use a bit of a break. She never listens to us when we tell her to slow down so I just-I just…. I wanted to sort of… help her along…"
"Oh, yes, I'm sure this was right out of the goodness of your heart, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall snapped.
Ron, if possible, paled even farther.
"You poisoned her," Harry said softly, eyes ticking to where Hermione was lying on the bed. He thumped a hand on the side of his chair. "Bloody hell, Ron! Do you ever think? You poisoned her!"
"Not on purpose!" Ron said, voice rising. "I didn't know this was going to happen. Fred and George promised it would be safe! You've seen how she's gotten recently, Harry! She's always in the library, she's always snapping at us when she gets the chance, she needed a break and you know it!"
"That doesn't matter!" Harry said. "That doesn't make it alright! You had no right to do what you did! What did you do? Slip it into her tea when she wasn't looking?"
From the horrified look on Ron's face, Harry was willing to bet a hundred galleons that was exactly what he'd done.
"Shame on you, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said scathingly. "You cannot mess with potions! Who knows what it mixed with? It could be having any number of effects!"
Ron scrubbed his face with his hands. "I didn't mean to," he said again. "I never wanted to-I'd never do anything to hurt Hermione and you lot know it."
"Be that as it may," Professor McGonagall said. "Your carelessness has landed her in the Hospital Wing. For your sake, I hope she comes out of it without any serious damage. You might avoid suspension."
"Suspension?" Ron croaked.
"Consider yourself lucky," Professor McGonagall said. "Now, I'm going to contact your elder brothers for a copy of this mixture. It would be wise to hope that this potion contains nothing more than basic ingredients."
Professor McGonagall swept past them, wearing a grim look. Ron shifted miserably.
"It was coffee," he mumbled. "That I put it in. Her morning coffee."
Disgust with Ron's actions rose in him and Harry resisted the urge to hit something. He understood that Ron's intentions had been good, but it didn't stop him from being furious.
"Coffee?" Madam Pomfrey repeated shrilly. "Coffee?'
She jumped up and rushed to Hermione's side. Harry and Ron looked at each other in alarm.
"What?" They said in unison.
Madam Pomfrey didn't answer. Her wand glowed as she waved it up and down Hermione's body. Finally, she stopped and turned to glare at Ron.
"Mr. Weasley, coffee is all ready a drug, engineered to give your system a boost. When combined with magic, it provides that boost to the magic as well. Whatever you gave Miss Granger, she's feeling its affects tenfold." Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Any student who paid attention in Potions should know that."
Ron looked like he was going to be sick.
"So what does that mean?" Harry asked, standing up and going to Hermione's bedside. "Is she… is she going to be okay?"
Madam Pomfrey's eyes seemed to soften when she looked at him. "I don't know," she said. "I'm not certain there is any way we can know… not until she wakes up."
***
"Hold on, Ron."
The moment they had been dismissed from the Hospital Wing, Ron had taken off. Harry rushed to catch up with him, not certain if he wanted to yell at him or curse him.
Ron spun around. "Look, Harry, I feel right guilty enough as it is. I don't need it from you too, alright? I get it-I messed up. Okay?"
"No," Harry grit out. "Not okay. You know, you've pulled a lot of stupid things in our last few years here-"
"I was trying to do the right thing!"
Ron looked primed for a fight. Harry took a step backwards in order to gain control of his own precarious emotions.
"I don't care," Harry said. "Look around, will you? We're in a middle of a war, Ron! You can't go dumping unknown… stuff into people's coffee mugs!"
"I know," Ron said. "I told you, I feel horrible. I'm not certain I could feel worse."
Harry shook his head. "Yeah, well, you'll feel worse once Hermione wakes up." He fixed Ron with a level stare. "If she wakes up."
"Come on, Harry!" Ron said, voice cracking. "Don't say stuff like that. She's gonna wake up, you know she is. It was only a stupid, little thing. I just wanted-"
"Her to relax," Harry finished. "Yeah, I know."
They stared at each other for a moment in silence.
"It was awful when she passed out in the common room," Harry said, the image replaying itself in front of his eyes. "I thought-I thought that Voldemort had found a way to get to her, somehow. If you hadn't mentioned that it might have been something you'd given her-well, I reckon I would have done something stupid."
Ron folded his arms across his chest and pawed at the floor with the toe of his boot.
"Harry, I'm really sorry. I know we don't ever talk about… well, you know, but I know that you two are close-getting closer all the time. I'm just… I'm sorry."
Harry felt like he couldn't forgive him-not quite yet-but he nodded and let the subject drop. For the moment.
***
Harry was in the middle of Potions when Hermione woke up.
He was glad the interruption happened when it did, since he hadn't been able to concentrate much. Snape kept shooting him eager looks and Harry suspected he was gleefully anticipating being able to use Harry as a test subject. Every time Harry tried to focus on what he was doing, his mind drifted back to Hermione lying in the Hospital Wing. Numerous times, he found himself silently cursing Ron into oblivion.
Professor McGonagall came to the classroom herself, her jaw set. Snape's disappointment was apparent when she asked if Harry could be excused. It was with shaking hands that Harry followed her out of the dungeons. He knew that if Hermione was fine, Professor McGonagall would never have interrupted class.
They set off towards the Hospital Wing in silence, McGonagall's face grim. Instead of asking the hundreds of questions zooming around his mind, Harry simply waited for McGonagall to tell him what happened. Finally, when she spoke, her voice was terse, but gentle.
"Miss Granger is awake." She paused to let that sink in and Harry nodded, having already determined that much. "She does not appear to be injured or hurt in any way."
Harry sucked in a breath and waited for the other shoe to drop. "But…"
McGonagall stopped and turned to Harry, her face turning into an even deeper grimace. Harry glanced around them relieved to see that the corridor was deserted. Whatever it was that he was about to learn would be kept secret.
"Miss Granger is suffering from amnesia."
Harry stared. Amnesia? How could she-how did Ron's spell…
"What-what do you mean?"
McGonagall sighed. "She remembers her name, her parents, her age, where she lives. But… as far as we can tell… she can't remember anything of her last seven years at Hogwarts."
"She can't remember Hogwarts?" Harry said.
"That's correct."
Harry swallowed. "Are you sure?"
"Certain," McGonagall said. "Miss Granger has no memories of ever receiving her Hogwarts letter. She does not know she is a witch. I'll be honest with you, Potter… she is a very confused and frightened girl at the moment."
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Hermione doesn't remember Hogwarts. She doesn't remember our last seven years. She doesn't remember anything we've done together. She doesn't know about Voldemort.
Another thought struck him, one that made his insides turn cold. Throat stinging, Harry looked back at McGonagall. "So… she doesn't-I s'pose she doesn't… know who I am, then."
"No," McGonagall said softly. "She doesn't."
"What-how… I don't understand…" Harry's voice was rising. "How could this happen?"
McGonagall gestured for him to follow her down the hall. "The potion Miss Granger ingested was meant to help her relax, relieve stress."
Harry waited for McGonagall to continue. When she kept walking and no further explanation was forthcoming, Harry realized she'd left it for him to come to his own assumptions.
"Stress…" Harry said. "She's been stressed ever since she got her Hogwarts' letter, hasn't she? Especially the last few years, what with Voldemort and-"
Harry stopped, about to say 'me.' He wasn't certain he could voice that aloud. The last time Hermione was able to truly take a break was before she came to Hogwarts. Before she met me. Before she had to live in this world.
"Why me?" he finally managed, glancing sideways at McGonagall. "Why come get me?"
Professor McGonagall paused outside the Hospital Wing, a serious look on her face. "Mr. Potter, we're all quite aware of the relationship you two share-"
"Relationship?" Harry interrupted, flushing. "That's not-I mean… we aren't… nothing like that…"
"In any event," McGonagall continued crisply. "Poppy seems to think, and I agree, that you would be the best person for her to interact with. If anything else, you know her best, her habits, her manner of conducting herself. Perhaps your familiar presence will even jog her memory."
"What about Ron?" Harry croaked.
McGonagall pursed her lips. "He may help too. But you should know, Potter, I'm not feeling particularly generous towards Mr. Weasley at the moment."
"Yeah, me neither," Harry said, the strong urge to hit Ron returning to him.
McGonagall gave a tight smile. "Go in and talk to her, Potter. She's rather… upset."
"No kidding," Harry said. He remembered how it felt when he'd met Hagrid all those years ago. He couldn't imagine waking up in the Hospital Wing with almost seven years of his magical existence missing. It would be terrifying.
"What do you want me to do?" Harry said. "How do I-what do I tell her?"
McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder, looking dangerously emotional all of a sudden. "Use your judgment, Potter. She's your…" McGonagall gave an audible sniff and dabbed at her eyes. "Treat her as you think best. She needs you now, more than ever."
For one horrifying moment, Harry was worried McGonagall was going to burst into tears. He wasn't certain how he'd manage that. He thought it might send him over the edge himself. To his immense relief, however, McGonagall turned away, still sniffing and hurried down the corridor.
Harry opened the doors to the Hospital Wing, duel feelings of concern and trepidation battling it out in his stomach. How did he even begin this conversation?
Lo' Hermione, you don't know me, but I'm your best friend. Possibly more than that, given nearly everyone's reactions to this whole fiasco. By the way, it's because of your other best friend that you're in this mess to begin with. Fancy a walk around the lake?
Madam Pomfrey glanced over at him when he entered. She smiled warmly and nodded her head in the direction of Hermione's hospital bed. Feet feeling weighted down, Harry shuffled over.
She was sitting up in bed with her legs crossed. Her eyes studied the room around her and her forehead was creased in concentration. Harry felt a jolt of hope. It was the same look she wore when she was working out a difficult problem in her head.
Wish I could ask her what to do about this, Harry thought, with a sudden ache. He suddenly missed Hermione terribly-the one who remembered who he was. He wasn't certain he knew how to survive without her by his side.
It was then and there that he vowed to himself to do whatever it took to get her memories back. He owed her that, at least. His stomach twisted in guilt, reminding him that part of her had chosen this amnesia-the part that believed this life was too difficult. But if Harry knew Hermione-and he did know her well-he could admit that she'd want her memories back. She never ran away from anything, certainly not challenge, in her life.
He cleared his throat and Hermione turned her eyes on him. There was no glint of recognition in her eyes, no warm smile of greeting. Her eyes were cool as she studied him.
"You must be Harry," she said, without preamble. "They told me about you."
"They… er… they did?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "They said we were friends."
"We are."
From the skeptic look on Hermione's face, Harry suspected this wasn't going to be easy.
"I don't know who you are, where we are, but I demand to be let go this instant!" Hermione's voice took on the shrill tone she used whenever she was nagging Ron to study. "You can't keep me here. My parents will call the police, I assure you."
"No, they won't," Harry said softly, internally aching for her. "Hermione, I know this is hard for you. But you must believe me. You're safe here. Nothing will hurt you. This-this world that you're a part of? It's dangerous. There's things out there that you don't know about. You're missing seven years of your life. You just… you need to trust me."
"Trust you?" She hissed, sitting up straighter. She gestured around her. "Trust you? I don't even know you! This whole place-the whole lot of you, you're all completely mad!"
Looking at her, Harry could tell it didn't matter how much he said, she wouldn't believe him. He couldn't blame her. The entire thing sounded ridiculous to his own ears. What he needed was some way to prove it to her.
He moved closer to her and looked directly into her eyes. The less sure of himself he was, the more inclined she'd be to disbelieve him.
"You grew up in a nice house just outside of London with your mum and dad. They're good enough people, dentists, they fight sometimes, but not enough for it to be a worry. Growing up, you never had any real friends. You felt isolated from others your age, so you threw yourself into your studying. If nothing else, your teachers always admired you. But something felt like it was missing, there felt like there should be more to life than homework and family walks in the park and Sundays spent watching television with your father. You could feel it. You weren't sure what it was, not until you got your Hogwarts' letter. That's when things fell into place." Harry sighed. "You don't remember that part, of course."
Harry could practically see Hermione's brain working as she processed through everything he'd told her. She was judging him, he knew. She was judging his sincerity, his veracity. That's the way she was. She needed hard proof.
"How do you know all that?" Hermione said.
"Because we're…" Harry trailed off, not sure exactly how to describe their relationship. "We're best friends," he finally said. "We've been best friends for seven years. That's why."
Hermione's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. "It's just… it's not possible!" she finally said. "This whole magic bit? That's complete and utter rubbish! I would never-I mean, it's not possible-"
"Oh, yes, it is," Harry said, taking out his wand. After a moment of indecision, he handed it to her. She examined it carefully, turning it over in her hands and shaking it a bit. Harry gave a strained smile. "Careful."
"Bothers you, doesn't it?" she asked, turning it over. "Me, waving it around like-"
Hermione gave a small shriek of surprise when several sparks shot out of the end of it. Quickly, she thrust it back at Harry, face paling.
Harry laughed. "Yeah, that happens."
"What-what was that?"
"Magic," Harry said, with a grin. It was an odd feeling, being the one to explain things to Hermione. "I know everything in you goes against believing this, Hermione, but I promise, it's real. More than that, I know you feel it. This is what's been missing all your life. Don't you see?"
Hermione looked suspicious. "Am I being held captive?"
Harry's jaw dropped. "What?! Of course not!"
"So I can leave at any time, then?"
"Er…" Harry glanced around, suddenly feeling like he'd just made a grave error. "Not… exactly."
Hermione's lips pursed. "I see."
"It isn't like you-"
She folded her arms across her chest. "You seem like a perfectly nice boy." She cocked her head, going back to examining her surroundings. "I certainly don't trust you, but you seem very nice, Harry."
Harry didn't like the way she pronounced his name, like she was drawing out each syllable. From her tone of voice, he suspected she didn't think he was "nice" at all.
"So tell me," she continued, voice steady. "What is it that you want from me? Money? Sex?"
Harry choked. "No! How could you-I mean… I would never…."
Harry stood up and began pacing. Hermione's stubbornness was out full force and he wasn't certain he could say anything to make her believe him. He hated the way she was looking at him, not only as if she didn't know him, but as if he was her enemy. With a small growl of frustration, he spun around and fixed her with a stare.
"Listen," he said, speaking quickly. "I'm your best friend. Alright, Hermione? I would never hurt you. I would never let anyone else hurt you. Please, just trust that. I know you can. There must be some small part of you that-"
"There isn't," Hermione snapped. "I'm certain that being told I'm a witch would be a memorable moment for me. Why don't I remember that? If I'm so important to you, why don't I remember you?"
Hearing the same question he'd been asking himself, deflated him somewhat. Harry glanced around the Hospital Wing when inspiration suddenly struck him. He turned back to Hermione, excited.
"You're the best in our year, you know," Harry said. "There isn't a spell out there you don't know how to do. I bet, even with your memory gone, you'll still remember how to do magic. Watch." Harry pointed his wand at Madam Pomfrey's office. "Accio wand!"
Hermione's wand came zooming out of the office and into Harry's hand. He handed it to Hermione. "Try that," he prodded. "Just point it at something you want and say the incantation. You'll be a natural, I promise."
Hermione seemed to think it over. Finally, she pointed it at her beside table. "Accio water glass!"
The glass flew off the table and landed in her hand. Harry raised his eyebrows at her. Hermione appeared unconvinced. She pointed her wand at Harry.
"Accio glasses!"
Harry's glasses flew off his nose and into her waiting hand. Hermione was reduced to nothing but a blurry shape.
"Ha. Very funny."
"I thought so."
Relieved when she handed his glasses back, Harry studied her. She wasn't convinced. Not yet.
"Wingardium leviosa," Harry said quietly.
She stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"The reason we're friends." Harry smiled a little at the memory. "You were-when you first came here, well, we didn't much like each other. You drove Ron batty, trying to get him to pronounce that spell right. Anyway, it ended with us rescuing you from a very large troll."
Hermione stared. "A… troll?"
"That's not the important part," Harry said quickly. "The point is, from that moment on, we were inseparable."
After the words left his mouth, Harry realized how it sounded. "You, me and Ron, I mean," he said. "The three of us-we were inseparable."
"Hmmm," she said, twirling her wand around in her fingers. Finally, she pointed it at her pillow, like she knew exactly what to do. "Wingardium leviosa!"
Neither of them were surprised when it hovered a few feet above the bed. Flicking her wand down, the pillow sank back to the bed.
Hermione stared at it, her face unreadable. Hesitantly, Harry sat down next to her.
"See?" he said. "You're a witch Hermione. A damned powerful one too. You might not remember any of this, you might not remember me, but you can't change what you are."
"This isn't possible."
The disbelief was gone from her voice. She was only denying it because she felt she had to. That was Hermione-ever the rational one. Harry wished there was something he could do to ease the confusion she was feeling.
"I promise we'll get your memories back, Hermione," Harry said instead. "No matter how long it takes. We'll get them back."
Hermione stared at her wand. "I don't know if-if I should trust you."
"Right," Harry said, wounded. "Well-that's okay. I mean, it would make sense for you not to. I just want you to know I'm here for you. I'm-I'm your best friend."
"But I do," she said, lowering her wand so she could look at him. "I don't know why, but I do."
Harry felt warmth spread through him. "That's-good, Hermione. Great. You need someone you can trust in this."
Hermione sighed. "I suppose." She cocked her head. "What's your last name?"
Harry smiled. He wasn't certain anyone had asked him that before. "Potter-Harry Potter."
"Potter," Hermione repeated, closing her eyes. "Potter… Potter…"
It made Harry feel a little strange watching Hermione repeat his name over and over again with such deep concentration. He realized she was probably attempting to stir some of her memories, but it didn't make the situation any less weird.
"Nothing," Hermione said, eyes snapping open.
"I reckon you can't force it," Harry said. "It'll probably come on its own."
For a moment, Harry was able to read all the anxiety Hermione was feeling. Vulnerability shone in her eyes and he suddenly realized how dangerous this was for her. She had no comprehension of the world they lived in. She wouldn't have any notion of how to defend herself.
Right now, he was looking at a scared, lost girl. One who looked unbearably different from the self-assured Hermione who'd stood by his side over the years.
"It'll be alright," he heard himself saying. "I'll take care of you, Hermione. I promise."