Archive of Our Own

"Hermione, I'm so sorry, but we've just had a car crash come in. Two dead, one hanging on. I'll need you on this one."

I sighed wearily as I skolled the rest of my tea and stood, setting my cup beside the sink in the small hospital tea room. My eight hour shift should have finished two hours earlier, but a bus had a nasty collision earlier in the evening which had seen a number of patients come in with serious injuries. The hospital was short-staffed as it was, so I'd agreed to stay back.

It wasn't the hospital's fault I was so exhausted. I'd not had a good night sleep in years.

An hour and a half, a shoulder dislocation, and a broken collarbone later, I finally collected my coat and bag and left for the night. I wasn't rostered for another two days, and intended to take full advantage of my time away from work. Starting with a scalding hot shower and a long, long sleep.

The dream began as it always did, with screams in the darkness and an urgency, to run, to be in the right place at the right time. So, as I always did, I ran. Across a field to a massive gnarled tree, then under the tree through a tunnel to a ramshackle shack. As I ran through the tunnel, I became aware of my two companions – both young men, one with scruffy dark hair and glasses and the other with red hair, both running with the same sense of urgency and purpose as I was.

Up the narrow stairs, along a short hallway that creaked as the three of us slowed from a sprint, creeping to avoid the monster we knew was hiding around the next corner. But there was no monster; only a man, too pale and gasping a gurgling breath around the bloody wound that had torn across his throat.

My eyes locked with his across the room. From the corner of my eyes, I could see my companions pull wands from their pockets, summoning bandages and what looked like some sort of ointment. But the man's dark eyes held my gaze as I rushed to him, kneeling by his side to staunch the bleeding with my hands.

His hand caught mine weakly. "Look at me", he rasped, and I looked up from his neck, tears blurring my vision. So it took me a moment to see the movement in his eyes, a serpent, moving intently towards me and lunging...

I choked back a scream as I awoke from the nightmare that was so familiar, but so freshly terrifying every time. My muscles ached and my head pounded. As I tried to calm my racing pulse, I turned to the digital clock on the bedside table.

3:27.

Sighing, I sat up and headed for the bathroom. Long experience had taught me that a long, hot shower and a warm cup of milk would be the only way I'd sleep again tonight.

I can barely remember when the dreams started – it feels like I've always had them. Always the same, although each time I saw a little more detail, remembered a little more of the dream afterwards. It felt so real... But that was impossible. Magic wasn't real.

Shaking my head to get the images out of my mind, I stepped into the shower and sighed as the hot water began to pound the tension from my neck and shoulders. At least I didn't have to work in the morning. Pretending that I had it all together was proving to be more exhausting than the nightmares.

The rest of my night was uneventful, and I awoke at the luxuriously late hour of 9:48. Blissful.

After showering (again – my water bill is through the roof) and making my bed, I headed out for a late brunch at a local coffee shop. Settled in the corner with my French toast, a strong coffee and the latest copy of the British Medical Journal, I barely noticed the disturbance outside until it spilled into the shop.

"Someone call an ambulance, this man needs a doctor!"

I ignored the terribly clichéd plea for all of three seconds, then caved in. Putting my coffee and journal down with a sigh, I stood and made for the door.

"Let me through please, I'm a surgeon."

A small crowd had gathered around the entrance to the coffee shop, standing around a slender man who had apparently collapsed and was now slumped on the floor, unconscious. His dark hair and rather unique facial features seemed somehow familiar to me, and I frowned as I tried to place him. Shaking the feeling off after a moment, I crouched by his side and felt for a pulse.

"Did anyone see what happened?"

A few in the crowd shook their heads, but one lady near the front spoke. "He looked like he had some sort of fit or something – just started shaking and collapsed."

Sounded like an epileptic seizure. It looked as though the fit had stopped, so I started to move him into the recovery position. As I rolled him onto his side, he stirred. His eyelids fluttered open, and I saw a brief moment of confusion in his eyes before an impassive mask fell over his face.

"Are you alright, Sir?" The words escaped my mouth without any thought behind them. I bit the inside of my cheek – I never called anyone 'Sir' – and helped him sit up.

"I am fine, thank you." He looked around briefly, then stood and began to walk through the crowd as if they weren't there.

"Wait! Please, Mister ... um ..."

He paused and turned back towards me. "My name is Snape." He turned away and kept walking. I ran along after him.

"Well, Mr Snape, I'm a doctor, and as such I'm duty-bound to see you to safety after an episode like that. If you would please let me escort you to a hospital –"

"Unnecessary. As you can see, I am perfectly well."

"– or at least to your house."

"Also unnecessary. However, if you feel the need you may escort me to my home."

"Thank you." (No, I don't know why I was thanking him for the pleasure of having my day off disturbed, either.)

It turns out that Mr Snape lived quite close to the coffee shop, and after a mostly silent five minute walk I'd escorted him to the end of a street called Grimmauld Place.

"You may leave me here if you like, Doctor."

"Are you sure? I'm happy to walk you to your door."

"Thank you, but no."

I quickly gave him the name of the hospital I worked for and brief directions. "Please visit the hospital if you suffer any other symptoms this afternoon."

"Of course", he replied, in a tone of voice that I knew from long experience meant he had no intention of going to hospital even if his head turned green and exploded.

"Well, have a good day, then."

He nodded and walked up the road, stopping a few houses up and walking through the door of a townhouse. I waited a few moments, then walked down the road myself. Number 12, Grimmauld Place. I filed the information mentally (justifying my somewhat unethical breach of his privacy on the grounds that he may call the hospital with further symptoms and at least this way I'd know where to go) and headed back to the coffee shop in the hopes of continuing my breakfast.

I woke up late the following morning with the feeling that something wasn't right. It wasn't until I was in the shower that I realised that for the first night in more years than I cared to count, my sleep hadn't been interrupted by the nightmare. It felt strange not having been woken during the night.

The day passed without any of the excitement of the previous day, and in what felt like the blink of an eye it was over. My roster for the next couple of weeks was a nasty one, with early mornings alternating with night shifts every couple of days and only one day off in the next ten days. (Being a relatively junior surgeon didn't give me much in the way of negotiating power.) Steeling myself for the first of my early morning shifts, I settled in for an early night's sleep.

And I dreamed.

I kneeled next to the dark-eyed man, tears filling my eyes and spilling down my cheeks. "Severus, no! You're going to be ok, you have to be..."

His voice, when it came, was raspy and too soft. "Hermione, you have to help stop the Dark Lord. Harry needs all the help he can get –" He was interrupted by a coughing fit, forcing more blood from the hideous wound at his throat.

"I don't think we can do this without you."

"You'll be fine. You're the brightest witch of your age, remember? I believe in you."

Through my tears, I saw him give me a faint smile. Then, with a faint shudder, his eyes rolled back and his body went limp.

"No! Severus, please!"

"Severus!"

I awoke disoriented, with tears on my pillow and his name echoing around my bedroom.

Severus. Finally, a name. Plus Harry, whoever he was, and someone – some 'Dark Lord' – who needed to be stopped. And something about me being a witch?

I gasped as I realised that I knew where I'd seen my mystery patient's face. I'd been dreaming about Mr Snape for years. Mr Severus Snape.

My dreams were real somehow. They had to be.

The realisation was one that neither a hot shower nor a cup of milk could remedy. I stayed awake until dawn.

I've been told by various people throughout the years that I make excellent plans. My brilliant plan on this occasion was to leave work at the end of my shift, visit Number 12 Grimmauld Place and ask Severus Snape why he'd decided to invade my dreams. Of course, he probably wasn't going to open up to me. If he even knew what I was talking about.

If I wasn't finally going insane.

Regardless, I decided to pay him a visit under the guise of making a house call. Which is why later that afternoon, I was ringing the abnormally loud doorbell with an anxious lump settled somewhere near my stomach.

He answered after a few moments and the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Dr Granger. I wondered if I'd be seeing you again."

The lump fell somewhere around my toes. How did he know my name? Did he remember me too somehow? Then I realised that of course he knew my name – I had told him my name when I gave him directions to the hospital.

Nice one, Hermione.

I stammered out some sort of appropriate response. At least, I assume I did, because a moment later he invited me in. The house looked open and bright, with a distinctly masculine touch. (Not that I knew much about masculine touches, being perpetually single and all that.)

Mr Snape motioned to an armchair and I took a seat. He began speaking almost immediately.

"I wanted to thank you for your assistance the other day. I experienced a trauma some years ago, and I occasionally have episodes like the one you witnessed."

A trauma. Like a snakebite, perhaps? The coat he wore had a high Mandarin-style collar, so I couldn't see his neck. But I wondered, just the same.

"That's quite common, especially after a serious injury." I decided to be honest with him. What did I have to lose? The guy was going to think I was a nutcase, but still.

"I actually didn't come here today to discuss your seizure, although I am of course glad that you are ok."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't speak, motioning for me to continue.

"I – well, I don't really know where to begin. You're going to think this sounds crazy, but, have we met before?"

He frowned slightly and leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers. "No, but now that you mention it, you do seem somewhat familiar."

I took a deep breath before diving straight into the deep end. "I've been dreaming about you. For years, every night, the same dream. And in that dream – a nightmare, really – you are attacked by a snake, and you die. Blood loss from a bite to your throat."

I watched him as I spoke, and sure enough, as soon as I mentioned the snake one hand flew to his collar. His eyes took on a haunted expression as his face closed over into that same impassive mask I'd seen a few days earlier. He slowly undid the top two buttons of his coat and pulled back the collar, revealing a ropy scar that stretched from just below his left ear to the middle of his throat.

I released a breath I hadn't known I was holding. I wasn't insane.

After a long moment, he refastened the buttons and left the room. Feeling a little lost, I stayed in the chair, and a minute or two later he reappeared holding some paper and a pen.

"Sorry for the delay – I can never seem to find a pen in this place." He seemed to have lost the haunted look, and I suspected that the extended pen expedition was a convenient excuse for him to bring his emotions under control.

"Now, can you tell me when you started having these dreams?"

I stared at him blankly. Not only did he not think I was crazy, but he seemed to be taking the whole thing seriously. Out of nowhere a nameless emotion welled up, and I fought the urge to burst into tears.

"Um... Right. It feels like I've had them forever." I did some quick mental arithmetic. The dreams had started not long before medical school. "About eleven years or so ago? I would have been about 20 years old."

He started scribbling something down. "And do the dreams ever change?"

I frowned. "Yes and no. They get a little bit more detailed every time. When they first started, they were very vague, more a feeling than anything else, but now they feel real, as though I'm remembering something that happened. The most sudden change I've noticed was last night, when I remembered your name for the first time. And there was another name, too. Harry, I think."

He nodded. "That would make sense." He looked up at me. "I think I can help you, at least a little. But I'll need some time. Can I get in touch with you in a few days?"

"I – yes, that would be fine. But how exactly do you think you can help me?"

He smirked. "With magic, Dr Granger." At his comment, I realised I'd not mentioned any of the truly weird stuff in my dreams. A snakebite was positively mundane compared to grown men using magic wands. I bit my tongue and forced myself to laugh at his joke, then wrote down my phone number and address.

"Right. Forget I asked. I'll hear from you soon, then?" I stood to leave and he followed suit, opening the front door.

"Count on it."

As I left, I had the feeling I was leaving with more questions than I'd started with.

I'd expected a phone call in a few days. What I got was a visit about three hours after I got home from the night shift two days later. And Mr Snape didn't come alone – he brought the two young men from my nightmare. They were older than in my dreams, about the same age as me. (Mr Snape, on the other hand, didn't look like he'd aged a day. I was tempted to pat him down for a gold ring, just in case.)

"Dr Granger, I apologise for the lateness of the hour. May we come in?"

I nodded blearily and stood back from the doorway, both admiring and envying the fact that the three of them looked completely awake at half past five in the morning. I was also painfully aware that I was wearing a fluffy pink robe and panda print pyjamas.

I left my guests in the lounge and made a quick dash to the bathroom. Five minutes later I emerged in jeans and a t-shirt, with clean teeth and hair that didn't quite look like a home for small wild animals.

They all stood as I walked back into the lounge. "Dr Granger, please allow me to introduce my companions. This is Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley."

We shook hands and I sat, eyeing up the younger dark-haired man. Was this the Harry?

"Severus told us about your dreams, Doctor. If you don't mind, we'd like to tell you a story and see what you make of it."

I nodded and settled in for the tale of a lifetime.

"He split his soul?"

"Yeah, bit freaky right?"

I let Mr Weasley's comment stand. Bit freaky indeed. If I hadn't been dreaming about magic and snakes for what felt like my whole life, I'd have kicked my houseguests out half an hour earlier and recommended they visit a psychiatrist.

Mr Potter and Mr Snape had excused themselves to make tea and breakfast for the four of us, leaving Mr Weasley to answer my questions.

"Right. So, this Voldemort guy splits his soul, trying to live forever or something. But he couldn't kill Mr Potter?"

Mr Weasley chuckled. "Call him Harry. And call me Ron. My dad's Mr Weasley, not me."

I nodded, and he continued.

"Harry's mum gave her life for him. It protected him from Voldemort, who had never felt love."

"And you're all really wizard police?"

"Me and Harry are, yeah. Severus consults sometimes on the odd dark magic case, but he's an inventor – spends a bunch of time down in the basement inventing potions and spells."

I slumped back in my favourite armchair, where I usually sat to read fantasy novels full of dragons and witchcraft. I could barely believe that it was all real.

But at the same time, it felt so very right. This was what I'd been missing. Which made no sense, because I couldn't even do magic.

Speaking of... "So, Ron, can you show me some magic?"

He grinned. "Was wondering when you'd ask." He pulled a wand from up his left sleeve and swished it, making the vase of flowers on my coffee table hover a few inches above the table.

"What, no magic words?"

"When you're starting out, definitely. But with practice, you can do it without the incantation. Rumour is that Severus can cast pretty much any spell without either the words or a wand, but he refuses to confirm or deny." He looked at me for a moment as if he was measuring me up, then held out his wand hilt first. "Want to give it a go?"

I tried to do the sensible thing, really. But my curiosity was too great. I stood up and took the wand gingerly.

"It won't bite, you know. The motion is a swish and a flick, like I just did, and the incantation is Wingardium Leviosa."

I chose my target carefully (a cushion on the couch – replaceable and non-breakable) and tried the spell. When the cushion actually lifted off the couch, I dropped the wand. Only Ron's quick reflexes kept it from clattering on the ground.

"Nice one, 'Mione! You always did get things right the first time." This was from Harry, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge holding a tray with the tea things.

"Wait – you remember me?"

He frowned. "No, I don't. I don't even know why I said that, it just seemed to be true."

Mr Snape came in a moment later carrying another tray with eggs and toast for each of us. As we ate, my mind whirled with the implications.

I could do magic.

I was a witch.

I'd been dreaming for years about a magical battle that had really happened, but I couldn't remember being there, or ever going to this Hogwarts school. And the people I'd been dreaming about – they were real, but couldn't remember me either.

I was jolted out of my thoughts when I realised my guests were talking amongst themselves.

"Maybe she's a Seer, like Trelawney."

"But less batty."

"She'd still have gone to Hogwarts."

I interrupted them. "Sorry, but is a Seer like a fortune teller or something?"

Harry nodded. "Something like that."

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. "I don't think so. I've never dreamed about anything but the battle."

Mr Snape stood very suddenly, making me jump and drawing curious glances from Harry and Ron.

"I think I may have thought of something, but I'll need to look into it further. If you'll excuse me."

He turned and walked out of the room, and before I'd come to my senses enough to put my teacup down and follow him, I heard the door close.

Harry and Ron just looked at each other and shrugged. "He does that sometimes. His random hunches are usually pretty good though."

Ron nodded. "I still reckon he should have been an Auror. Bloody genius sometimes." He reached over the coffee table and plucked a piece of toast from Mr Snape's abandoned breakfast.

After breakfast Harry and Ron left for work, leaving me to get some more sleep before my shift later that afternoon.

Naturally, I was woken up two hours later by a phone call. I groped around on the bedside table for my phone.

"Hermione? It's Harry. So sorry to be a pain, but can you come around to our house? Severus has found something."

I groaned. "Harry, I have a shift starting in four hours. I've had next to no sleep."

"Cancel your shift. Seriously, he's insisted that you come around as soon as you can. He won't even tell us what he's found, which in Severus-speak means that whatever he's figured out is huge."

I closed my eyes and sighed, half-wishing I'd ignored the plea for a doctor all those days earlier. (Had it really been less than a week?)

"Fine. Give me an hour to get decent and I'll be there."

"Brilliant. See you soon." He hung up, and I reluctantly got out of bed and started getting organised.

Forty five minutes later, I turned around the corner onto Grimmauld Place. The hospital was well covered (for once) and my boss had understood when I'd called in sick, pleading a migraine.

I rang the bell and heard a thumping noise, like someone was running for the door. A moment later Ron appeared, looking like all of his Christmases had come at once.

"Hermione, you're here! Didn't I tell you Sev was brilliant?"

I fixed him with the glare I reserved for recalcitrant patients. "Yes, you did, but I'll reserve my judgment until we hear what he has to say. May I come in?"

"Oh! Yeah, 'course." He stepped back and motioned to the same sitting room I'd seen when I visited the last time.

Mr Snape was sitting in an armchair, books and notes strewn over the coffee table in front of him. He looked up as he heard me enter the room. Ron came in behind me and moved to the other side of the sitting room, sitting on the couch next to Harry.

"Dr Granger, thank you for coming on such short notice. I'm sorry that we're keeping you from work, but I think you'll want to know what I found."

Ron and Harry's enthusiasm had grated on me, but Mr Snape's was a little more infectious. I was suddenly certain that whatever he had discovered was worth the disruption to my day.

As I sat, he stood up and started pacing. "I've found evidence that not only did you attend Hogwarts, but you have also visited this house in the past."

I frowned. "What evidence? I don't remember anything of the sort."

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of suppressed laughter. "The fact that you can see the house at all."

Harry leapt from the couch and started swearing. Loudly, and (if my ear was correct) in more than one language. "The bloody Fidelius charm! I didn't even think of it."

"Relax, mate. None of us did." Ron grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him back down to sit on the couch next to him.

Mr Snape noticed my blank look and took pity on me. "A Fidelius charm is basically a spell for secret keeping. Professor Dumbledore put this house under Fidelius many years ago, and when he died everyone who knew the secret became Secret Keepers themselves."

Harry interrupted. "I recast the Fidelius a few weeks after the last battle, but I changed the spell so that anyone who had been told the secret by Dumbledore – and only those told by Dumbledore – would still be able to see the house. The only other people who can see the house are people I've told personally as the new Secret Keeper."

I nodded at their explanation. "So, at some point, I met this Dumbledore person, who told me the secret of how to get into this house."

"Right. So he trusted you, which means we probably did too." Ron was frowning. "I can remember everyone in the Order, but I can't remember you."

"And if Mr Snape is right, we went to school together as well." I looked at Mr Snape expectantly.

"Not only did you go to school together, you started in the same year and were Sorted into the same House."

This time it was Ron whose face lit up with comprehension. "Never thought of checking the Hogwarts registry, did we?"

Mr Snape held one of the books up and motioned to an entry. "Hermione Jean Granger, born September 19, 1979. Registered as a magical child on April 13, 1981 after casting her first accidental spell, and enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on 27 July, 1991."

He closed the book and looked at me. "The school's records show that you attended the school for six years, and missed your final year. But Minerva insists she has no memory of you, and I've never known her to forget any student, let alone one of her cubs."

Harry placed two cups of the tea on the table amongst the books, and I realised I hadn't heard him leave the room. I murmured my thanks, then refocussed my attention on Mr Snape.

"How could I have been there if no one remembers me?"

He sat down across from me and picked up another book of the table. "I believe I've found an answer there as well, but it doesn't explain why you don't remember us – only why we don't remember you. It's called the Forget Me Not charm, and it's a tremendously Dark curse."

Ron winced. "Yeah, I remember learning about that one during training. Nasty piece of work, that."

Harry spoke up. "It's a spell that makes you fade from the memories of every wizard and witch that you know. They can see you, but you're a complete stranger as far as they know."

"So what's the catch? Break the spell, you'll remember me, and then we can figure out what happened to my memory."

Mr Snape shook his head. "If this curse is the cause of our memory loss – and we don't know that for certain – then either you or the caster must be the one to break the curse. I believe – and again, this is merely a theory – that you must know what we've forgotten in order for the counterspell to be effective."

I frowned. "How do I remember then? I haven't forgotten anything – I remember going to high school, starting at medical school, all of it. I just don't remember this."

"Excellent. Then you'll be able to tell me the name of your favourite teacher in high school."

I tried, I truly did. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn't remember a thing – whether my teacher was male or female, what subject they taught, why I liked them, anything. I certainly couldn't remember their name.

I'm sure Mr Snape must have seen the panic on my face, because he reached out and took my hand. "Fake memories often have less detail than real memories. There is a way that I can see if the memories are false or not, but I wanted it to be a last resort. It will mean me looking inside your mind."

I saw Harry shudder from the corner of my eye. Didn't this just sound like fun?

"So it's basically mind-reading?"

Mr Snape frowned slightly at that, and I heard Ron suppress a chuckle. "It's somewhat more subtle than that, but yes, 'mind reading' is one way of putting it. May I?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. Mr Snape picked his wand up from the table and wordlessly cast the spell.

I could instantly see what he meant about my memories. Most were clear and vibrant, like watching a film, but some – including all of my memories of high school and a couple of years after – were soft and muted.

The spell lifted, and Mr Snape looked at me rather forcefully, as if he wanted to start scolding me loudly and at length.

"You created the fake memories, Dr Granger, so it is likely that you removed your actual memories as well. If that's so, then only you can reverse the spell."

I could barely believe what I was hearing. What possible reason could I have had to falsify my own memories? The others looked as baffled as I felt.

Harry stood up and crouched next to me, laying a hand on my arm. He glanced at Mr Snape as he spoke. "Think carefully about whether you want to do this or not. If you do, I'll teach you the spell and lend you my wand to do it. If you don't, we can make you forget all of this, or you can just walk away."

Before he'd even finished talking I was shaking my head. "No, Harry, thank you. I do appreciate what you are offering, but I've come this far. I want to know."

He nodded approvingly, and Ron gave me a wink and thumbs up from the couch. "Maybe you really are a Gryffindor."

I smiled, somewhat shakily. "Maybe in a few minutes I'll know what that means."

I spent a few moments memorising the motion and incantation that Harry showed me, then lifted the wand to my temple. With a last look at my companions, I closed my eyes and cast the spell.

The world went black.

Flash. Standing in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, watching as the battle raged around me. I felt a spell hit my side, but it seemed to have no effect. I looked over to see Bellatrix Lestrange mouthing another curse. I blocked her and dove to one side, then watched in awe as Molly Weasley went on the offensive, ending Bellatrix once and for all.

Flash. The battle was over, and we won. But so many dead, so many injured. Harry had insisted that we recover Professor Snape's body for an honourable burial, and Ron and I had agreed wholeheartedly. It was as we were carrying his body back up to the castle on a stretcher I'd conjured that Ron noticed the impossible – Professor Snape was still alive, if only barely.

Flash. He spent months recovering, first at Hogwarts and then at Grimmauld Place. Harry had insisted, and he had agreed somewhat reluctantly to stay as our housemate – at least for the time being. And somehow along the long road to recovery, he became our friend. It was Severus who had suggested that I could combine training as a Mediwitch with more modern Muggle techniques, and supported me as I embarked on a Healer's apprenticeship.

Flash. Ron and I, promising each other that we'd always be friends. I wasn't an idiot, and I'd seen the way he looked at Harry. And I'd seen the way Harry would look at Ron when he thought neither of us were watching. And of course, Ron had seen the way Severus relaxed when I came into the room, how I was the only one who could make him laugh, even though he seemed so self conscious when he did.

Flash. I'd checked the curse the Bellatrix had hit me with and found no ill effect, so I'd mistakenly assumed that there wasn't one. I was so foolish, so complacent. I'd lost all of the common sense I'd gained in the war.

So I didn't put two and two together when acquaintances from school could no longer remember my name, or experiences we'd shared. I assumed it was merely the passage of time, when really barely a year had passed since the end of the war.

Flash. Harry and Ron, forgetting my twenty first birthday. I'd been so upset, assuming that they were so wrapped up in their new-found feelings for each other that I'd become the third wheel. They apologised so sincerely that I felt bad for doubting them, but I couldn't forget the hurt.

Flash. My growing concern as everyone around me began to forget small details, and then larger details. Ron remembered Viktor Krum visiting Hogwarts, but couldn't remember who Viktor took as his date to the Yule Ball. Harry, forgetting that I'd broken his wand – remembering only that it was broken during the flight from Godric's Hollow. The Healer I was apprenticing with, occasionally looking at me in surprise, as if she didn't expect me to be there.

Flash. Severus, finally gathering up the courage to ask me out for dinner to a small Muggle restaurant around the corner from Grimmauld Place, to celebrate my enrolment in medical school. Our feelings were so tentative, so new. Even though we'd known each other for so long and had lived together as housemates, the date felt like the first time we'd met, and the long-awaited kiss goodnight felt like mana from heaven.

And then my heart breaking the next morning, when I realised none of them remembered my name. Severus couldn't remember our date the night before. None of them remembered that I lived with them. I was an intruder, a trespasser, the Aurors would be called if I didn't explain myself immediately.

I ran, and left my life behind me.

Flash. Running up the road to a small playground, sitting on one of the swings in tears, choking back anguished sobs. Crafting my new memories, my new Muggle life. Hiding my wand beneath the roots of an ancient tree at the back of the playground, then whispering the spell to hide my memories, to forget my life. Forget the pain.

I came to with tears on my cheeks and three very concerned friends looking down at me anxiously. I gave them a watery smile.

"I'm fine, and I remember everything. Ron, please, could you run down the road to the park and check under the tree? With any luck, my wand should still be there."

He nodded and disappeared from my view, and a moment later I heard the door slam.

Harry and Severus helped me sit up. "Severus, I think you were right. I think Bellatrix cast the Forget Me Not curse on me during the final battle."

He nodded and pulled a book towards him from the table. "Were there any immediate symptoms when she hit you?"

I shook my head. "I knew she'd cast a spell, but it didn't feel as if it had any effect. When I couldn't find an effect later I assumed that she had simply cast badly."

Harry snorted. "Bellatrix Lestrange? Unlikely."

At that moment, Ron burst back through the front door. "Un-bloody-believable. Right where you said it would be, good as new."

He held out my wand, and I felt fresh tears fill my eyes as I took it from him. My wand. Even though I couldn't remember magic at all, I'd missed it all so much.

"You were wrong, Ron. I wasn't much of a Gryffindor at all when it counted."

Severus shook his head. "We'll be the judge of that, I think." He held up the book and motioned to the incantation at the bottom of the page that would remove the curse. I studied it for a moment, then nodded and stood up. I waited until everyone was seated, then cast the spell.

I thought it had failed. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then Severus took a shuddering breath and looked at me, eyes filled with pain.

"You silly, stupid girl! Why in Merlin's name didn't you come to me?"

He stood and stormed from the room, just as Ron and Harry gasped. "Oh, ''Mione. How on Earth could we have forgotten you?"

I shook my head. "Not your fault, Harry. I shouldn't have left, I should have found a way to make you remember, but it hurt so much I just couldn't think straight." I cast a glance at the doorway Severus had left through and felt the tears well up again. Merlin, it hurt like it had happened yesterday.

A moment later I felt Ron's hand on my shoulder. "Go after him, love. He's missed you just as much as you missed him, even if neither of you knew it."

Harry came up next to Ron and nodded. "He's right. Severus will come around, but you should talk to him. He'll be out in the courtyard."

I found my inner Gryffindor and steeled myself, then nodded and walked out the back. Sure enough, Severus was pacing a line across the courtyard. He stopped when he heard the door open.

For an endless moment, we looked at each other, and I saw the effort it was costing him to keep his emotions under some sort of control.

"Do you know, you are only the second person I've ever let close enough to break my heart?" His tone was almost conversational, and it hit me like a punch to the stomach. I'd hurt Severus. My sweet Severus, who had become one of my dearest friends, and had been well on the way to being much more than a friend.

"Oh, Severus, I am so sorry. You're right, I should have come to you, should have known we could find the answer together, but it hurt so much I just couldn't think, I could only react, and I couldn't see past my own pain to realise-"

What it was exactly that I hadn't realised became meaningless as Severus kissed me hard and put an end to my babbling. I held on to him like I was drowning, and when we finally broke away from each other both of our faces were wet with our comingled tears.

I didn't know what I was going to do next, but whatever else happened, I knew we would muddle through it together.

I was finally home.

6 months later...

I walked through the front door of Grimmauld Place and slumped against the wall, exhausted. Combining my work at the hospital with a part time apprenticeship was draining my life away. And I loved every second of it.

Harry appeared in the hallway, complete with oven mitts, apron and a dish full of some sort of casserole. The smell made my mouth water in anticipation – turned out that sometime between our little camping trip and now, Harry had actually learnt how to cook.

He jerked his chin in the direction of the stairs. "Get thee hence, wench. Dinner's up in five and you are not sitting at the dinner table dressed like that."

I laughed and nodded, kissing him on the cheek on my way past.

A few minutes later after a quick shower and some fresh clothes, I made my way down to the kitchen. Ron and Severus sat at one end of the table playing chess (a game I still had no skill in), while Harry stood at the benchtop serving up dinner. After a quick kiss on the cheek for Ron – and a rather more interesting kiss for Severus – I went to give Harry a hand bringing the plates over to the table.

The last few months had been among the best of my life. Harry had invited me back to live with them in Grimmauld Place, and I'd moved back into my old room a few weeks later. I'd lost no time in reconnecting with Ron and Harry, and within days we were as close as if I had never left.

I hadn't been able to reduce my workload at the hospital, but Minerva – another friend I'd swiftly become reacquainted with – had a quiet word with Madam Pomfrey, and together they worked out a part time schedule for me to continue my apprenticeship at Hogwarts. I seemed to be spending an awful lot of time patching up students after Quidditch matches on the weekend, but I was so dreadfully excited to be back in the wizarding world that I didn't really mind. And of course, it gave my housemates plenty of excuses to come and visit Hogwarts for the matches.

But all the excitement paled in comparison to the best part of my life.

Severus.

We had so much time to make up, and we'd wasted no time in picking up where we left off. A couple of months after moving back to Grimmauld Place, our night-time trips across the hallway had become frequent enough that I just gave in and moved into his room. Our relationship was exciting and comfortable and spine-tingling, and I knew that we were on to a good thing.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by Harry tapping me on the shoulder, motioning to the remaining plates on the bench with a smirk that suggested he knew where my thoughts had been heading. I smiled in reply and picked up the plates, turning back to the table in time to see Ron's knight knocking over Severus's king. The two men shook hands, and as I put the plates on the table Severus gave me that small, quiet smile that I knew was all mine.

All was well.