She was lost, lost inside the depths of her own mind. There was no way out. There was nothing there. She was nothing, nothing but a bodiless soul, missing spirit, or something of that sort. She had this feeling, though, that she used to be somebody, that she used to know things, but they were all lost, all those memories.
For some time, she would contemplate questions of her former life over and over in the vacant space. There was no color, no sound, nothing. It was either blank darkness or empty whiteness; it was hard to tell the difference. She imagined how her former existence might have been, and in the emptiness there started appearing blurs of colors and indistinguishable sounds. She began to feel something stirring inside her, powerful emotions from some forgotten event. She started to believe that these changes were driven by a recovering memory, surfacing from a pool of lost thoughts. As time went on, the blurs became images and the sounds became voices; she could make out her setting.
It was dark, she could tell now. She was inside a castle-like building; which building, she did not know. There were dark cloaked figures swirling around. She had a body. She could not see her own face, but she felt thick, bushy hair cushioning her head from the floor and matted to her forehead by sweat. Her sight was fixed on a falling body belonging to a boy with red hair. Someone picked her up and her heart lurched and skipped a beat as everything disappeared once again.
That was it! It had to be a memory of her life, or rather, how she came to be what she was now. She vigorously replayed what she had just experienced, trying to remember all the minute details. She could not help but linger on the emotion she felt for the falling boy. The memory came back, this time, further back in time.
“Crucio!”
She felt a strange feeling throughout her whole being. Something was making her body contort and shake. It was a memory of pain and suffering, but it was a sign that she once was alive. Uncontrollable screams came out of her mouth. She was gasping for breath. Then, the pain abruptly stopped and she crumpled to the ground.
The red-haired boy ran to her side. “You’re going to be all right. I promise.” She took hold of his comforting hand, which made all her suffering melt away. A woman with dark hair and heavy eyelids pointed a stick at the boy. Colorful bits of light flew across the room from the end of her stick. She tightened her grip on his hand, not wanting to let go and once more everything vanished.
She knew things now, things about the world she existed in. There was magic that could cause pain. There were people that wanted to hurt others. But there was something else that she could not figure out. There was the boy with the red hair. He made everything better for her. He stirred an emotion in her that she did not quite understand. She pictured his bright blue eyes and the panic that grew in them, and with that another memory came back.
She was staring into his eyes again. His hand brushed her cheek and his lips touched hers. She could not breathe.
“I love you, even though you may not feel the same way. I always will,” said the boy with the red hair.
She could not speak, but in her chest she felt words bursting out. She wished she could say them. Her mind echoed, But I do, but I do, which faded as her eyes opened to the bright lights of a hospital bedroom.
A boy with black messy hair watched as she blinked in the luminescent lights. “Hermione?”
She was confused. Is that what I’m called? And how come I’ve never seen him before? “Who are you?” she asked.
He looked puzzled as well. “You don’t remember?” he said weakly. “It’s me, Harry.” After she shook her head, he rushed out of the room.
She looked around the room. Everything was so tangible, so real. She moved her fingers and touched her hair. In her memory she was not able to control her body and now, she could. It felt so new, yet familiar. The boy reentered the room followed by an old man.
“Where am I?” she questioned. The setting here was nothing like what she had experienced before.
The old man replied, “You are at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am your Healer.”
“Magical?” she said, remembering the colorful lights.
“You have suffered from a tremendous amount of physical torture. You probably do not remember much of your life,” he explained.
The pain. She remembered that tiny part of her life when she struggled against what seemed like invisible ropes strangling her. But there was someone in the room that she still did not remember. “Who is that boy, there?” she asked again. He was fidgeting silently, as if having an argument with himself. “He said he was Harry.”
“That’s right. He is Harry Potter. He was - is a very good friend of yours,” He looked at the boy.
“I don’t remember him at all. But what is that there?” She pointed to a paper with a familiar shape on the front lying on a chair in the room. The Healer handed it to her.
Hermione watched the moving picture of a woman with heavy eyelids under the headline, Bellatrix Lestrange Leads Death Eater Attack on Hogwarts, Leaves Two Students in St. Mungo’s.
“This woman, I - I’ve seen her before.” She read the article. “Hermione Granger, is that me? I heard, um, Harry call me that before.”
“Yes, that is your name,” he answered calmly.
“Why can’t I remember everything? I remember that woman, Bellatrix Lestrange, but I don’t remember Harry.”
The Healer sighed. “I cannot say I know the exact reason why. This has happened before, though.” He turned to Harry and said more quietly, “I am relieved she hasn’t turned out like Frank and Alice Longbottom. You probably didn’t know that I was the Healer that treated them, also.”
Harry acknowledged that fact without saying anything. The Healer continued, “Well, we will need to run some tests to make sure she’s okay physically. I’ll call you in when we’re done.” With those words, Harry left the room, silenced by disbelief.
Only In My Dreams by Ice Cream Eater
Chapter Notes: Sorry, it's been awhile. I have stuff written, but never got around to submit it. Here is the next chapter. Others to follow hopefully.