Memories

The door to the Room of Requirement opened and a voice called tentatively. “Harry?”

“Come on in, Hermione.” Harry responded, turning to see his bushy- haired friend step quietly into the Room, which had configured itself to be an exact duplicate of Dumbledore's office. Hermione looked bemusedly around the room, clearly wondering why it had taken than particular form.

“I got your note. You wanted to see me about something?”

“Yeah.” Harry smiled. “I've got something for you.”

“Really? What is it?” Hermione asked curiously, walking towards Harry. He was standing in front of the Headmaster's desk and as she approached he moved aside to show a Pensieve. She stopped short, mouth gaping unflatteringly as the surface swirled briefly and cleared into an image that Hermione couldn't quite make out yet.

“Dumbledore left this for me in his will.” Harry said quietly. “I think you should have it. You can make much better use of it than I can.”

Hermione stared at him, flabbergasted.

“W-what? M-me?”

“I don't know any other Hermiones.” Harry said dryly. Hermione swallowed with difficulty and stumbled the rest of the way across the room to stand beside Harry.

“I couldn't possibly- this is- Oh, Harry!”

“Just take it, okay?”

“Okay.” Hermione relented and smiled brilliantly at Harry. “I can't believe- Harry, you shouldn't have!”

Harry just smiled again, shaking his head. Hermione could now see the image in the Pensieve clearly. It was a girl of around their age with curly, brown hair. The subject seemed to be caught unsuspecting; she wore a very earnest look of concentration on her face and was biting her lower lip absently. She was also very pretty and Hermione felt a small twinge of jealously.

“Who's that?”

Harry blinked, looking between Hermione and the Pensieve several times before grinning.

“Seriously? You don't recognize her? I thought you were the brightest witch in ages!”

“No…” Hermione said slowly. “Wait-Is that me? But! She's so pretty! Is that how you see me, Harry?”

Harry chuckled. “Of course it is, because that's what you look like.”

“No, it's not! I'm much plainer than that! Your memory must be faulty.”

“No, it's not.” Harry mimicked, smiling briefly. “The Pensieve is perfectly accurate.”

“Only accurate to what the person thinks they saw.” Hermione countered. Harry shook his head, smiling.

“Is this the first time I'm right and you're wrong?” he mused. “Look, true memories are always one hundred percent accurate in the Pensive. This is what an altered memory looks like.”

Harry placed his wand against his temple and as he pulled it away a strand of memory came with it, clinging to the wand. But this memory didn't look quite right; it was a sickly green color. Quickly, he dropped it in the Pensive and prodded the surface with his wand. The memory immediately resolved itself into the day he arrived at twelve Grimmauld Place for the first time. However, the memory was hazy, like heat distortion, and showed Harry talking reasonably with Ron and Hermione.

“This is the real memory.” Harry spoke again suddenly, depositing another, gleaming silver, strand into the Pensieve. Immediately, the scene changed to Harry yelling at Ron and Hermione, his face distorted and ugly with anger.

“I'm so sorry, Hermione. That was inexcusable of me.” Harry shook his head regretfully, scooping the memories back up out of the Pensieve. “You two were doing so much for me and I was an ungrateful prat.”

He jumped slightly as he felt a sensation on his hand and looked down to see Hermione tentatively taking it in her own.

“It's okay, Harry.” She said quietly. “I-we understood what you were going through. I would have been going spare too.”

“You're amazing, Hermione, you know that?” Harry breathed. “That's why-I want you to have these too.”

He dipped his free hand inside his robes and emerged with a clinking bag which he handed to Hermione. Curiously, she opened the bag and saw dozens of tiny vials, each containing a memory.

“Harry, what are these?”

“They're memories I want you to have.”

“Oh… should I look at them now?”

“That's up to you, Hermione. I'll just head on back to the common room. See you later.”

He gave her hand a brief squeeze and then quickly strode towards the door and left the Room of Requirement. Hermione stood still for a moment, mouth open. She blinked a few times and hefted the bag in her hands uncertainly. But only moments later her mouth clicked shout and hardened with resolve. She dipped her hand into the bag and pulled out the first memory, depositing it into the Pensieve and wondering what to expect. The memory cleared and she was staring at a first-year version of herself.

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

“Hermione!”

“Harry- you're a great wizard, you know.”

“I'm not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.

“Me!”Hermione said. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things- friendship and bravery and- Oh, Harry- be careful!”

The memory ended, leaving Hermione smiling.

“That's so sweet, Harry!” She said aloud, scooping the memory back up and carefully dropping it back into the vial. She uncorked the next vial and grinned even more broadly as she saw herself running towards Harry in the Great Hall screaming about how he solved the puzzle of the Chamber of Secrets.

Memory after memory she saw through Harry's eyes, each one practically glowing with his regard for her. There were some idle ones, just of her doing homework or walking down to Hargid's cabin. She saw them flying on Buckbeak to rescue Sirius again and then nearly a dozen of her spending time with him when Ron and he weren't talking in fourth year. She blushed slightly at the next one.

He caught a brief glimpse of a gloomy, high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room, then there was a loud twittering noise, followed by an even louder shriek, and his vision was completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy hair- Hermione had thrown herself on him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat, while Ron's tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, zoomed excitedly around the room.

“HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here!”

The next memory was not nearly so happy.

“Well done, Ha-“

But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Hermione's chest; she gave a tiny “oh!” as though of surprise and then crumpled onto the floor where she laid motionless.

“HERMIONE!”

Harry fell to his knees beside her…

Harry's horror and despair and feeling of wrenching loss nearly leaped out of the memory and Hermione's eyes grew wet.

“Oh my God.” She whispered. “I had no idea…”

There were only a few memories left, mostly snatched moments of time from sixth year. The last memory, and she had no idea how he managed to store it without her noticing, was of her standing open-mouthed in surprise not an hour earlier as he announced his gift to her. This memory had happiness and Harry's pride at his own cleverness practically beaming out of the Pensieve and Hermione had to laugh shakily.

In the common room Harry flipped halfheartedly through his transfiguration book, looking for likely passages to use in the essay McGonagall had assigned. He was scowling down at page 246 when he heard the panel to the common room swing open. Swiftly, he looked up and around.

Hermione stood in the entrance, staring at Harry, her eyes gleaming with wetness. Harry rose from his chair, concerned, and started to open his mouth. Hermione shook her head, though, silencing him, and walked quietly over. She stood looking up at him, eyes shining, then grabbed his hands in her own and raised on her tiptoes to kiss him on his cheek, tears now spilling down her cheeks.

“Thank you, Harry.” She said, smiling tremulously. “This means more to me than you could ever imagine.” And then she fled towards the girls' dormitory, tears now positively streaming from her eyes.

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