Missing Harry

Missing Harry

“Hermione,” Harry breathed in that way she loved as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in. She walked over to him and gave him a tight embrace. “You look older, I don't know why, but—but—but—you look gorgeous.”

Hermione smiled sadly at him. “Harry, we're both 32.” He looked at her sceptically. “We have a child together and Voldemort's dead.”

“Voldemort's dead? But didn't the prophecy say…”

“You killed him, Harry.”

Harry glared at her. “Don't—don't—don't do this to me, Hermione. I didn't kill him, I'm not a murderer.”

“Harry, sit down. It's okay.” Harry was shaking, as he always did when he got nervous, but he sat down and let her hold him. She enveloped him in her arms and rocked with him back and forth.

“Hermione, tell me what's wrong with me.”

Hermione sighed. “Shhh, Harry.”

“I'm scared, Hermione. I can't—I can't—I can't tell one moment from the next. What if Voldemort attacks us and I can't remember to—to—to do a spell? How will I protect you, Hermione? How will I protect Madison?”

Hermione dug her head in his shoulder as his trembling hands stroked her hair. His hands had never stopped shaking after he had killed Voldemort twelve years before; Harry had never been the same.

Something happened to him, to his memory. He cast the spell and he had never been the same; he killed Voldemort and he had never been the same.

Hermione had gone back and finished her time at Hogwarts and was accepted into the Healer program. She went on to a muggle university and received a doctorate in psychology. No one knew if his short-term memory loss was due to magical or muggle means. There was nothing Hermione could do for him now, except make him as comfortable as possible.

“Hermione—Hermione—Hermione,” Harry whispered in her ear. “How will I protect Maddy with Voldemort after her?”

“Oh Harry, you protect her everyday. We're safe with you.”

“Hermione, when did you get here?”

“Huh?” Hermione sat back and peered at her husband. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Oh,” she said softly. “I just got here love.”

“Oh I missed you so much, Hermione,” Harry smiled and squeezed her tightly. Hermione had been through this millions of times, and it still brought tears to her eyes. “You make me feel so safe.”

Hermione pulled back from him and looked toward the ground. “Oh, Harry,” she breathed.

“Hermione,” Harry choked. “Do you promise that you'll take care of Madison if Voldemort kills me? Do you promise me?”

“Daddy?” A little voice asked from the doorway. She had brown curly hair just like her mum and warm emerald eyes that glowed like her father's. “Daddy, it's okay now.”

“Oh, Maddy,” Harry whispered as he walked over to his daughter. Hermione watched lovingly from the couch as he hugged her tightly. “I love you, I—I—I love you with all my heart, you know that?”

Madison laughed. “Of course I know, Daddy, but Voldemort's gone.”

Harry's brow furrowed. “Who killed Voldemort?”

“You did, Daddy.”

“No, that's not possible Maddy-bear, because I don't—I don't—I don't remember—”

Madison smiled and traced the scar on his forehead, much like her mother did at times. Harry shivered and dropped his head, sobs heaving in his chest. “Oh, God—Oh, God—Oh, God.”

Hermione walked over to her husband and daughter, and dropped to her knee beside Harry. “You do remember, love. You're remembering right now.” Harry didn't respond and continued to weep.

Madison held onto her father's shirt as she crawled into his lap. Harry took her into his arms and hugged her small frame to him tightly. “It's okay, Daddy. You can let him go.”

Hermione smirked at her daughter…smart, clever little Madison Lily Potter. It was incredible how intuitive she was for an eight year-old. “Maddy, can you give your father and me a moment?” Madison smiled, kissed her father and mother, and walked out of the room towards her own.

Hermione sighed and took Harry's head in her hand, turning him to face her. “Oh, Harry.”

“When did you get here, Hermione? And where is Madison?”

“Madison is in her room, and I've been here for a little while, Harry.”

“But I don't remember you being here.”

“I have.”

“But—but—but, why don't I remember it then?”

“You're suffering from anterograde amnesia, Harry.” His eyes grew wide. “You can carry on a conversation, but it fades from your memory as soon as it goes in. You remember the people you love most, and the people you hate most. You contain all those basic human primal functions, but when you get distracted you cannot remember what you learned five minutes before.”

“How long—”

“Twelve years.”

“But Madison is eight.”

Hermione smiled. “I'm still trying to figure out how it's possible for you to remember her. I think it has something to do with magic, because it's biologically impossible. We had her after you got amnesia.”

“When was that?”

“Twelve years ago.”

“Why did I get amnesia?”

“I don't know. It had something to do with your fight with Voldemort.”

“At the department of Mysteries?”

“No, Harry. You killed h—” before she could finish the sentence, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her with a ferocious drive. Her life was hard, but these moments made her forget Harry's pain, her own pain, and even the potential pain Madison was going through.

“Harry,” Hermione breathed, breaking from his kiss. “I'm pregnant.”

Harry stared at her wide-eyed. “You're—you're—you're…pregnant?”

Hermione grinned. “Yes, I am.”

“I'll keep our baby safe from Voldemort.”

“Oh, love. You don't have to. Voldemort's gone.”

“He is?” Harry asked incredulously. “When the hell did that happen?”

“You killed him, Harry.”

“Hermione, don't play—don't play—don't play this game with me, surely you don't want me to believe that, not when—not when—not when you're pregnant.”

Hermione had to choke back a gasp. He remembered.

Good God, Harry remembered.

This same thing had happened in her first pregnancy. The only thing Harry could remove from his semiconscious this quickly had been when he felt surges of positive emotions. He remembered their beautiful wedding at Hogwarts, their first time and every other time they made love, and Madison's birth.

Thank God for magic.

“Oh, Harry. We'll be fine,” she kissed him and took his head into her hands again. “We'll all be fantastic, as long as you're here.”

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Thank you so much for reading my story! I know that was very different, but I was touched by the case studies I learned in my psychology class. For more information on anterograde amnesia, visit this website: http://www.memorylossonline.com/glossary/anterogradeamnesia.html

Thanks for reading!!!!

Harrynhermione4eva

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I'm glad you guys talked me into writing more! I hope I don't disappoint!

Enjoy.

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Missing Harry

Chapter 2: New Discoveries

July 31, 1999

Hermione giggled as she sunk further into the couch, Ron and Harry on either side of her. These were the nights she lived for: staying up late in Harry's flat and just talking to her friends as they sipped wine. Tonight was especially wonderful, for Harry had bought her favourite: Pinot Noir. He bought it just for her…

Oh, Harry, how she loved him; everything about him. When she let herself think about him at night, no words would form in her mind. She could only moan and fantasize of what it would be like to be with him, all of him. It was terrifying that the way he made her feel could reduce her cognition, and hindered her speech. Terrifying, but absolutely brilliant.

But when she saw him, she ached to be with him.

And she knew he loved her just as much, if not more. There were times she would catch him staring at her, his eyes glazed over and a bit of drool forming at the edge of his lip. It took all her willpower to not reach over and grab the back of his head and force him to kiss her, especially when her blood was filled with as much alcohol as hers was at the moment.

She knew if Ron wasn't sitting on her left, that she would jump Harry for the way he was looking at her. Same as always. His left arm rested near her on the back arm of the couch, and his right hand was busy swirling the small amount of drink left in his glass. She didn't look at him, but could feel him and all his actions. It sent a current down her spine as she downed the rest of her drink and reached across him for the bottle of wine. She could feel Harry stiffen and almost fell about laughing when she saw his pants twitch.

“Well, I'm all lashed up,” Ron mumbled drunkly. “I think I'm going to floo myself home. And Harry, you got a bit of dribble at the corner of your mouth. Make sure he behaves, Hermione. We both know how he can be when he's smashed. I'll see you in the morning. Happy Birthday, mate.”

Harry furrowed his brow slightly as he wiped the corner of his mouth. Hermione stood to give him a swift kiss before he stepped over to the fireplace. The other two watched as Ron disappeared from the fireplace before Hermione came back to sit with Harry on the couch. She stretched and took in a deep breath, getting a bit dizzy from the sudden inrush of oxygen. It was an incredible feeling and made her take another sip of her drink. She heard Harry put his own glass down on the side table before moving to set his head in her lap, something he was attuned to doing lately when they were alone. “Tell me something, Hermione.” She made a questioning noise and started to stroke his hair with the hand that wasn't occupied with her drink. “Am I going to die?”

Hermione choked on her wine trying not to spit it out. “W-what? Why are you saying that, Harry?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Well with Voldemort trying to kill me and all, I just don't know if I can go through with it.” His right hand came up and clutched at her thing quite innocently, though it still set a fire through her. “He's an extraordinary wizard, Hermione.”

“So are you.”

“Not like him. You should have seen his face the way I saw it in Dumbledore's pensive.” She sat back and let him talk it out. “When Dumbledore came to the orphanage to pick him up, Voldemort told Dumbledore how he could possess animals and scare people, talk to snakes and hurt people, without knowing what he was doing. He was so thrilled to learn he was a Wizard, and could now figure out how to inflict pain on people whenever he wanted.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“All I could do was grow back my hair when my aunt Petunia cut it too short, and make a glass wall disappear so the snake I was talking to could escape. I'm not saying I want to do all the horrible things he did, but…”

“No, Harry, you listen to me. She set her drink unsteadily on the carpet near her feet. “If you had a heart like his, you would be the same way. You don't, though. You would get upset with your aunt for cutting your hair, but your heart was good and it only fixed the problem instead of hurting her.”

Harry smirked. “I think you forget the Aunt Marge incident.”

“Yes, well I think that woman deserved what was coming to her.”

“You still went spare when I told you about it.”

“Well, you know me…”

“Yes, I do.”

“A little too much you jumped up chauvinist.”

“Oh leave it out, Hermione.” Harry sat up, knocking his leg against hers and forcing her glass of wine to spill all over the white carpet. “Oops.”

“Scourgify,” Hermione muttered and the carpet cleaned itself up.

“Look, Hermione,” Harry slung his arm around her shoulder again as his face came impossibly close to hers. “When I lived with the Dursleys, I felt like I was always standing about like some spare prick at a wedding. With you…and Ron,” he added quickly, “I feel wanted. I feel like I'm worth something, and that's the only thing that keeps me going and makes me feel like I can actually do something about killing Voldemort.”

The wine on his breath seeped through her nostrils and fueled the fire in her blood. She couldn't help herself when she grabbed the back of Harry's head and pressed his lips roughly against her own.

Harry didn't seem surprised; he didn't even flinch when she acted. He only drew his arms around her waist and pulled her closer as she opened her mouth to him. Hermione sighed against him as he groaned a bit, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

It happened so quickly, but she didn't even hesitate.

Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned backward on the couch, drawing him down on top of her to settle in between her thighs. He pressed against her comfortably, but it sent a jolt through her every time he moved. Even the tiniest shift of his hips caused her to moan against his lips as his pants got tighter and tighter.

“Hermione,” he moaned hoarsely against her neck. It took all her resolve not to groan deeply at his stubble that lightly scraped her neck. God he was so hot. “Hermione, we should stop.”

“No,” she breathed against his lips.

“We need to,” Harry mumbled hesitantly, breathlessly against her neck. “I'm completely cracked, and from how much you drank tonight, you've got to be too.”

Hermione smirked. “So you've been watching me?”

“Are you mad?” Harry flew up, running his hand through his hair. “Merlin, I know you're not thick. I know that you're aware at the way I stare at you.”

“All the time.”

Harry blushed. “Yes, all the time! God, Hermione. I don't know what's come over me, but I can't stop thinking about you.”

Hermione's smile died quickly as a blow of shock came over her. “Harry, I…”

“You don't get it, Hermione. I fucking love you, okay?” Harry laughed, swiping his wine glass from the side table and taking a sip. “I love y—” But he couldn't finish. Hermione had attacked him with her lips and he dropped his glass, spilling his drink all over the carpet.

“I don't care,” she responded to his inquisitive glance. “I'll clean it up later.”

Harry laughed. “I think I can get used to this.”

“Good.” She leaned down and pressed her lips to his again.

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November 3, 2011

Hermione felt a poignant smile run across her face as she stared at the stain on the carpet. She reached down and ran her hand across the coarse fabric, remembering how hard she had tried to get the stain out.

“You—you—you scrubbed that stain for days,” Harry noted, coming up behind her.

She grinned as she stood up, greeting him with a hug. “You and Ron told me it was impossible.”

“I'll never forget the way I felt when you—when you—when you told me you didn't care. I'd though you'd been possessed.”

Hermione chuckled against his shoulder, but a tear still made its way down her cheek. “How is it you can remember that, but you can't remember how wonderful our love making was last night?” she whispered.

Harry stood back from her. “What?”

She cast her eyes down. “Oh nothing. I was just talking nonsense.”

“My Hermione,” Harry grinned, pulling her back into a hug. She was shocked to feel his arousal against her thigh.

“Harry—”

“I want you.”

“But, Harry.”

“What?” Harry pulled back from her, an annoyed expression crossed his face. “You don't want to sleep—to sleep—to sleep with your husband?”

“No, it's not—”

“Then what is it?”

“Harry, its two o'clock in the afternoon. Madison could walk in at any moment.”

“It's not two.”

Hermione face fell. “Yes it is, look at the clock.”

Harry looked over at the clock to see it was only four after two. “What the fuck is wrong with—with—with me? I'm all ballsed up!”

“Harry, I'm sorry, we can…”

“NO!” Harry screamed. “I don't want you taking pity on me!”

“Well how would you like it if someone kept banging on about the same thing over and over again.” The words were out of her mouth before she had even known she said them.

A baffled look came across his face, but his eyes were filled with dejection. “Why would you say something like that, Hermione? I don't bang on about anything!”

“Oh, Harry. If you only knew…”

“Knew what?” She didn't answer him and that only made him more upset. “Knew what!”

Hermione closed her eyes and sunk down onto the sofa. Even though her eyes were closed, she could feel him leave the room, and heard him slam the door behind him. That was when she let out a loud sob, allowing her to wrack all these confusing emotions out.

After a bit, she stood up, still teary-eyed, and walked over to their bedroom door where Harry had disappeared to. Peering in, she saw Harry sifting through her drawer with one of her negligees in his hand.

He looked over at her, grinning like an idiot. “This would look great on you tonight.”

Hermione's face crumpled a bit as she nodded slightly, and he seemed satisfied with that. She left the room, closing the door behind her and let out a scream that blew apart the vase across the room. These were the times she could not bear, and felt like dying. She sunk down to the floor and idly rubbed the small bump that had started to form on her stomach. She was so exhausted with the last half-hour that she soon felt herself drowse away from the world around her, as sleep took over her conscience.

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I hope everyone liked this chapter! I'm actually really glad you guys talked me into continuing this, because I'm liking where this is going!

And just a reminder, people with Harry's form of amnesia can hold a conversation for approximately five minutes before forgetting it…in case you were confused as to why Harry was able to row with Hermione.

And thank you Rylee for your AMAZING beta skills! Everyone thank her by going and reading her story, The Good, The Bad and the Drunk.

British Slang

Lashed up=drunk

Jumped up=arrogant

Leave it out=stop it; come on

Like some spare prick at a wedding=unwanted; useless

Cracked=drunk

Ballsed up=mixed up; confused

Banging on=going on about

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Missing Harry

Chapter 3: Ray of Hope

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August 21, 2011

Hermione hated feeling like this. She absolutely, utterly couldn't stand it when she did this to herself. She was slowly driving herself towards an early grave. And what would everyone say? What were they all ready saying? She had been too drunk at the party to find the energy to back-talk the gossipers.

“Did you hear Hermione Granger-Potter's become an alcoholic? What a shame to put such a brain to waste.”

“Yes, it was her husband who did it to her. Can you even imagine living with someone like that? Harry Potter has become so needy that he's drawn everything out of her.”

“AGHHHH!” Hermione screamed as she threw one of her stilettos at the glass panel in the old Grandfather clock near her. Just her luck, the shoe smashed through the glass and broke the clock, but she was too drunk to find her wand, and clearly too intoxicated to be casting spells. She hated herself when she did this.

But it felt so good.

Never in her entire life had Hermione imagined herself as an alcoholic. She had never imagined when she graduated from Hogwarts with top honours that ten years later she would be a full-fledged alcoholic in a loving but dead-end marriage…not to mention with a child. She loved her little Madison, but couldn't bear bringing her up in a world that was so…empty.

Oh, God. Madison

As intoxicated as she was, she didn't notice her daughter in the doorway at first, and when she tried to stand with one bare foot and the other in a stiletto, she faltered and ended up twisting her ankle.

“Ohhhhh SHIT!” At her mother's outburst, Madison fled from the doorway, only to be replaced by Harry, still dressed in his dinner jacket*, moments later.

“H-H-Hermione, what's going on?” She scowled at him and winced as she stood up gingerly on her injured leg.

“Goway, Harry,” she slurred.

Harry looked at her inquisitively. “Are you all right, love?”

“Bloody `ell, Harry! Am I all right?”

“Hermione, why—why—why am I wearing this dinner jacket? Are we going somewhere?”

“Harry! Look at me!” He did, but he still looked confused. “Look at what the bloody `ell I've become!” He continued to stare at her, moving forward to brush the hair aside that had fallen from its up-do.

“I am looking at you, Hermione. And I—And I—And I see the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Have you lost your sense of precepshion too? Don't you realize I'm totally hammered?”

“I see a woman who's very sad about something.” Ironically, a tear slipped down her cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb. “And it kills me, because I don't—I don't—I don't know why you're so sad.”

“Do you know exactly why you can't remember, `arry?”

Harry squinted his eyes, trying hard. “No.”

Hermione broke down, sobbing into his arms, drunk and pathetic. He caught her, lowering both of them to the floor as he held her, his arms shaking.

“I—I—I don't know why you're sad, and I don't know why I wouldn't know that about my own—my own—my own wife.”

“Oh, Harry. Make love to me.”

“What?”

She wiped at her face and pushed him up against the couch near them. She could feel him grow hard instantly and it sent an old familiar shiver up her spine…a feeling she hadn't experienced in years.

“Fuck me till I can't walk.” She straddled him.

“Hermione, this isn't like…”

“Shag me till I can't see straight.” She threw his glasses to the other side of the room.

“I uh…”

“And remember this, Harry.” She grabbed his face and pressed her thumb to his scar.

Harry gasped like a drowning man out of water before he grew a hard face and picked her up by the bum, carrying her into their bedroom, turning the lock on the door.

Hermione fisted her hand in his hair, pulling at the flaps of his dress shirt as he shrugged out of the coat. He undid the zipper on her fancy dress and watched as it pooled at her feet.

“Bloody hell you're gorgeous,” He whispered huskily, attaching his lips to her neck and pulling her flush against him.

Hermione noted somewhere in her foggy brain that she had never been so rough with him before. She needed this, though. It was selfish to bring him back for such a short romp in the bed, but she needed him so desperately that she couldn't see straight.

His scar: it was the only source to his memory. She couldn't remember when it had started, but it never failed. When someone he loved pushed on his scar, he was like the old Harry she knew. The Harry she grew up with, the Harry that got her drunk for the first time, the Harry that became her lover, Husband and father of her child. It was all of him, but it never lasted. He would never remember in the morning when they woke up, and she knew it would depress her to the point that she would drink again. But she needed him right now, more than anything.

“Hermione,” He breathed against her neck, unsnapping her bra and let the weight of her breasts spill into his palms. She moaned and pushed him back on the bed, crawling up to pull off his dressy pants and then his boxers. She was wearing nothing but the one stiletto still strapped to her right foot.

He flipped her over and set himself between her thighs. She screamed when he shoved himself inside of her, and she could feel that he was as desperate as she was. He continued to thrust into her, rolling her breast around in his hand, pushing his tongue against hers, and lifting the leg with the stiletto so he could go even deeper.

Harry panted, moaned, cried, breathed, groaned, and it was all too much for Hermione to bear. She began to weep as her climax broke over her. Harry reached up to brush her tears away, never breaking his kiss as he drove into her again and again and again. With one final groan, Hermione began to scream and buck against Harry with the force of her orgasm. He never stopped pounding against her and when she had finally overcome her first orgasm, her second began to creep up.

“Ohhhhh, Fuuuuuck,” Harry rasped against her neck. He let out a loud guttural moan and she could feel the wave of his orgasm coursing through his body, and it made her let go again.

He was clutching to her as though his life depended on it. She let the last leg of her orgasm died down and fell backwards onto the pillows, gasping for air. He landed on top of her and the weight of his lean, sticky body was delicious. Still not feeling as though she had landed back on earth, she could make out the lazy kisses he was drawing on her neck. “Bloody hell, Hermione.”

“I know,” she breathed. “That was incredible.”

“I'll never forget that, ever! That was amazing.”

Hermione's heart broke and a tear fell down her face. “I know, love. I'll never forget this night as long as I live.”

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November 3, 2011

That had been only months ago, and here she was, a stomach full with child and a still-broken heart. Harry would always hold half of her heart, but she didn't know where the Harry was that she knew and fell in love with.

“Mummy?” Madison's small voice came from the doorway. Hermione was still crouched by the door to her bedroom where she had fallen asleep after her fight with Harry.

She stood up and walked over to her daughter. “Are you all right, love?”

“I heard a scream, Mummy.” Hermione tucked a strand of her daughter's wild brown hair behind her ear. “I was too scared, so I hid under my covers. But I thought that maybe you or daddy had gotten hurt, so I came to look.”

“Oh, Maddy,” Hermione drew her little girl into a tight embrace. “Daddy and I are fine. But next time you stay in your closet like I taught you, right?” Madison nodded.

Hermione was still scared half to death of Death Eater attacks, and taught her daughter to hide from them. Even though Harry had sacrificed himself to defeat Voldemort, their family was still too large of a target to take any chances.

“Where's daddy?”

“Oh, um…” Hermione could hear Harry singing in their room, opening and closing drawers before the door to their bathroom closed, and the water from the shower turned on. “Daddy's a little busy at the moment. Why don't we get you some pumpkin juice and I'll let you watch a little of the telly before its time to eat.”

“Okay! Madison ran out of the room as Hermione followed the little girl. She walked down to the ground floor and into the kitchen where Dobby was preparing a chicken to be roasted.

“Hello, Dobby,” Hermione greeted the house elf as she made her way over to the cupboard to get a cup for Madison.

“Hello, Misses. Dobby is preparing dinner for Mister Harry Potter and his family, Miss.”

“Thank you, Dobby.”

“And Dobby has made a small ham for the Misses because she cannot eat chicken.”

Hermione nodded. It was the strangest thing: every time Hermione ate poultry with this pregnancy, she would get a queasy stomach and run to the bathroom. At first she thought it might have been strange withdrawal symptoms from her alcoholism, but a trip to her healer proved its source to be different.

“It's entirely normal for a woman to have aversions to certain food products, Mrs. Potter,” Healer Stanley had told her. “Your reaction to poultry is entirely normal.”

“So this isn't long-term or anything?”

The woman laughed heartily. “Not at all. As soon as you have your baby, the reaction may stay for a bit when you're breastfeeding, but it will go away eventually. For now all you can do is have your house elf cook you a separate meal from your family's if they can't live without their poultry.”

“Oh, they do love it, but I would feel like I'm overworking poor Dobby, and he all ready does so much for us…”

“At least you're paying him, dear. I admire you're potential to break through centuries of stigma and discrimination.” Hermione had blushed and thanked her healer.

As she was pouring the pumpkin juice for her daughter, a loud noise came from her bedroom and she quickly put the juice back in the ice box, handed her daughter the cup with a kiss to the forehead, and sprinted upstairs, through their bedroom and into the bathroom.

“FUCK!” She could hear Harry screaming through the glass door.

“Harry, what's wrong?” She yelled to him. Through the foggy glass she saw him slump to the floor of the shower, and hunch over as sobs wracked his body.

She slipped the sliding door open and peered inside at him as his shoulders shook and Harry continued to wail. Not caring that she was getting thoroughly soaked, she stepped into the shower with him, turned down the scalding hot water, and hugged him to her, rocking him back and forth as he cooled down.

“I don't know who turned—who turned—who turned the water so hot, Hermione. I certainly would never do such a thing.”

“I'm sorry, Harry. I must have done that.”

“But, why, Hermione? You know how sensitive my skin is to hot showers.”

“I know, I'm sorry, love.”

“It's okay.” He sat back and looked her over. “Y-y-you're wet.”

“I know,” Hermione grinned. “It's all your fault, you rogue.”

“Perhaps we should fix this, huh?” Harry was smirking wickedly as he lowered his mouth to hers. Without thinking, Hermione pushed her thumb to his forehead, forcing him into a gasping fit. His body was convulsing around her and then suddenly stopped. Harry shook his head and looked her square in the eyes.

“I'm going to ravish you until you can't walk properly.” His familiar words set a fire ablaze in her loins as he moved to pull her shirt over her head, rubbing his hand along the bump in her stomach. “We don't know what it is yet, do we?”

Hermione shook her head. “I hope it's a boy, though.”

Harry smiled and leaned toward her, his face inches from hers. “Me too.”

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Ahhhh, so that's out. Hermione's an alcoholic *ducks from fans throwing stuff*, but don't worry, if you noted the dates, she stopped drinking when she found out that she was pregnant.

Thank you to my AMAZING beta, Rylee. This chapter was a mess before she betaed it. :P

And thank you to my reviewers! You all are FANFUCKINGTASTIC!

*dinner jacket=tuxedo thanks to Rylee for that one! :D

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Missing Harry

Chapter 4: Eighteen Months

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January 3, 2003

All she could do was spill her guts. Nothing was coming up, so she'd dry-heave until her stomach nearly reversed itself and flew out her mouth.

Six more months, she assured herself, reaching down absentmindedly to rub her belly that hadn't even begun to form yet. It was a natural instinct; when she felt sick or if she tripped, her hand would automatically go to her stomach, as though holding it would protect her unborn child at such a young stage.

Hers and Harry's unborn child.

Not to mention, their first child, and Hermione was terrified. Not for the child birth, and not because of this huge lifestyle change, but because she didn't know if Harry would ever get to know this little person.

The thought alone made tears prickle at her eyes. What if Harry couldn't remember who this new person was? How would she explain this to him every time he came in contact with his son or daughter? Would it be possible to bring a child up in such an environment?

Hermione broke down as her dry-heaves stopped and she sunk down to the cool tile of the bathroom floor. She cried into the sleeve of her shirt and clawed at the tile, all of which distracted her from hearing another person entering the loo.

“What's wrong, Hermione? I heard—I heard—I heard you crying.”

Hermione sniffled and tried to contain herself as she sat up and met Harry's worried glance. “I-It's nothing, Harry.”

“It doesn't sound like nothing.” His brows furrowed and he tried to move closer to her, but she backed up against the wall. “What's going on?”

“I-I don't know, Harry,” Hermione began to sob again. Harry didn't move, however. “I have all these emotions and I don't know how to handle them. I don't know how to handle this situation.”

“What situation?” He asked, sitting down and facing her. He looked worried, but made no move closer to her. “Hermione, what are—are—are you talking about?”

“Oh, Harry, don't you remember?” He looked at her inquisitively and inched a bit closer to her. “Don't you know what's happening right now?”

“Uhhh…”

“Do you realise what we're going to have in six months? I've told you before; you've got to remember.”

“What, that we're—that we're—that we're going to have a baby?”

A breath left Hermione's mouth as it fell open. Her eyes widened and her heart stopped.

He'd remembered.

“Oh—Oh, Harry!” Hermione crawled over to him on her knees and threw her arms around him. The salty water in her eyes began to fall again. “H-how did you remember?”

“What do you mean?” He asked with a slight chuckle. “How—how—how could I forget?”

Hermione shook her head against his chest. “I don't care; it doesn't matter now. As long as you know who our child is.”

Harry took hold of her chin and tilted her face up to his. “Hermione, you don't know how badly I've wanted—I've wanted—I've wanted a family my entire life.” He gave her a chaste kiss and hugged her tightly. “I'll love our child no matter what, and with—with—with everything in me. If Voldemort ever comes near…”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed as she buried her head in the crook of his neck. “Let's not talk about him right now.”

Harry nodded. “You're right. We've got more—more—more important things to worry about.” Hermione nodded and took deep breaths; breathing in his scent and mixing it with memories of him long ago, memories long before he'd been like this. It had been so much easier then, but she knew she'd love him no matter what.

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July 31, 2000

She'd found him among the rubble of what used to be Professor Sprout's haven: the greenhouses of Hogwarts. He was clutching two wands in his hand, one that was unmistakably his, and the other that she'd figured was Voldemort's.

At first she'd thought he was dead. Her hands clutched at his chest frantically as she grappled for his wrist. An overwhelming relief came over her when she felt his pulse. It'd made her a bit light-headed at first, but then Harry began to cough. Hermione had scrambled to sit up as Harry sputtered and choked for air. She stroked his cheek as tears formed in her eyes.

“Oh, Harry.”

“H-Hermione…”

“Shhhh. You lay still; I'll go get Madam Pomfrey.”

“N-no, Hermione…”

She kissed him on his forehead, right on his scar. “I'll only be a moment.” She stood up, and almost ran into Neville. “Y-you're okay!” she'd yelled, launching herself into Neville's arms.

He'd blushed for a moment and then set her down. “I-I came over here when I saw you crouched over Harry.”

“I know! Can you believe it?” She grinned, even though tears were coursing down her cheeks.

“It's a miracle, it's—Harry?” Neville had turned his gaze towards Harry. Hermione whipped her head around quickly and her heart had almost burst.

“H-Harry, no. Don't…please…Harry…” Hermione's joyful tears had turned hot as she fell to her knees and pulled Harry to her. She feared for the life of the man in her arms, the man she loved so dearly…

When she'd cradled his head in her arms she could feel something hot and wet on her arm. Pulling back, she noticed her shirt had gone from a dirty white to stained in deep red.

“Go get Madame Pomphrey, Now!” She screamed at Neville. He'd apparated faster than she'd ever seen him do before. The wards had been taken down around Hogwarts when school had been shut down only a few years earlier; it wasn't safe with or without the wards. Hermione didn't care about the wards at this moment she'd really only been focused on Harry who'd been lying in her arms. He'd been shaking uncontrollably as his eyes began to roll back in his head.

Hermione had cradled him to her breast, kissing his forehead repeatedly. “Oh, Harry, no. You can't—you can't—you can't do this. Please don't leave me. I love—I love—I love you!”

Quicker than she could have imagined, Madam Pomfrey popped onto the scene with Neville right behind her. She'd made haste and had wrenched Hermione off of Harry, apparating Harry side-along back to the castle.

Hermione had looked down at her hands that were covered in blood, sinking to her knees and letting out a blood-curdling scream.

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January 10, 2011

Present Time

That day would never leave her memory. Even with all the lovely afternoons filled with Madison, the times her growing baby would move around inside of her, and the passionate love Harry made with her, she'd never forget. Ironic as it was, it would be etched into her mind forever, whereas Harry would have no recollection of the incident…and as Madam Pomfrey had told her, he'd have no recollection of events prior to the accident, which included his fight with Voldemort.

It had all happened so quickly, too, that she wasn't surprised that he wouldn't remember the battle. One minute he'd been ravishing her in their apartment, the next, Ron was screaming through the door that there'd been an attack on the remaining staff living at Hogwarts.

After it was over, and Harry was stable, Madam Pomfrey told her that he'd probably have some brain damage. When he fell, he'd fallen backwards and hit his head on a rock. His determination was the only thing that'd kept him alive as he shot that final curse at Voldemort, killing the bastard once and for all.

When Harry had woken up, her worst fears had come true. He'd no clue how he had gotten to Hogwarts, and still thought Voldemort was alive. When they'd assured him that he had, in fact, defeated the beast, Harry had gone into a fit, screaming himself hoarse of conspiracies against him; until Madam Pomfrey had force fed him a sleeping draught.

He'd damaged the part of the hippocampus that converted short-term memory to long-term. As Madam Pomfrey explained the anterograde amnesia to her, Hermione let tears loose in scepticism, rather, hopeful scepticism, for she prayed with everything in her that the nurse was wrong for once. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey was spot on.

The first few weeks had proven to be the most difficult, as Harry was easily irritated. Hermione tried, relentlessly, to get used to this new man, the man who'd take over her love's body, but she feared she'd never get used to not having the old Harry with her ever again. She'd fallen in love with a different man, but he was gone, and in his wake was another whom she'd hope to love just as much.

Hermione sniffled a bit at the retrospective thoughts flooding her brain, reaching over to the other side of the bed to stroke his hair lightly. He shifted a bit as his eyes fluttered open. She smiled sadly at him, tracing his scar with her index finger.

“I wish—I wish—I wish you wouldn't do that,” he said huskily, pulling her hand away from his forehead and lacing their fingers together. He rolled toward her to lie on his stomach and pillow his head on her growing belly.

“Hello, there,” Harry mumbled quietly. “Your mummy's being silly again, and I don't know—know—know why.” His hands ran up and down the curve of her stomach.

Tears grew hotly in her eyes and she reached down to run her hand through his hair again. “Oh, Harry.”

“Hey!” Harry said suddenly, sitting up. “We should—we should—we should bring Madison to the park tomorrow!”

Hermione smiled slightly. “Of course we can, Harry.”

He looked down at her, and the colour in his eyes seemed to change again. “God you look stunning.”

Hermione blushed. “I'm turning into a whale.”

“Not at all,” Harry assured her. “You're positively glowing.”

“Oh, glowing now, am I?”

Harry laughed before his face turned serious again. He reached for her hand, seeking out her thumb and pulling it towards his forehead.

Hermione was shocked to say the least. He'd never done this before; she didn't think it was possible. Not to mention his eyes held nothing in them. They were blank, and that scared her even more.

Attempting to stop him from pressing her thumb against his scar (against his healer's latest orders that it might possibly damage him further), she lost the battle and allowed him to pull her thumb against his hot skin.

Choking and gasping, it only took a moment before the man she'd originally fallen in love with emerged, and began to ravish her senseless.

She'd fallen in love with him all over again, with this entirely innocent and vulnerable Harry despite all his flaws, but it left her torn and confused. How could she possibly love two men who lived in the same body, one screaming to be released while the other sits patiently waiting to be told which direction to move.

As Harry sheathed himself within her, she reckoned it didn't matter; she'd love him if he turned into the devil himself. She'd promised to love him unconditionally, and with Harry's ambiguous personality, she'd love him more and more until it was physically impossible for her to continue.

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So sorry for the delay! I've had sooo much on my plate, but I really felt like this story needed an update. :)

Thanks to Rylee! You're wonderful!

And thanks to all the reviews!

*Love to all!*

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