We Will Always Remember

Chapter 2- Uneasy Beginnings

Hermione walked into her parents bedroom. She was five, and they were sleeping. She had had a bad dream.

"Mummy," she tugged on her mother's nightgown.

"Yes, sweetie," her mom said, waking up.

"I had a bad dream," Hermione told her mother.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her mother asked kindly. Hermione nodded and crawled into bed.

Hermione awoke with a start. She sat up in her bed, gasping. This kept happening. Little snippets of her childhood, invading her mind, waking her from her much needed sleep. It was never even a full memory, just a small piece, but always enough to drive her equally insane and keep her begging for more. Her dreams were like her: she wasn't full, she was just pieces after the war had smashed her.

She knew it would be a couple years before her parent's memories were restored. She had done a wonderful job of erasing herself from their minds. She had to. But that didn't stop the pain. And it didn't stop the tears from running down her face.

She stood up and walked down the hallway to the Common Room. It was weird having a Common Room and dormitories on the same floor. It felt off. Hermione sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace and lit the fire. She sighed.

Finding her parents had been nearly impossible. She, Ron, and Harry had looked tirelessly, getting little sleep, and rarely stopping in a place longer than they needed to. After three months they found her parents. They, of course, didn't remember her, which broke her heart. But the relief she felt when she found them untouched, safe, and happy was overwhelming. It was the strongest emotion she had ever felt in her life. It was stronger than the sorrow she felt erasing their memories. It was stronger than the fear she felt when she was looking for them. It was stronger than any feeling of content she had ever felt in her life.

Hermione stared at the flames, watched them flicker and dance. They looked happy. They reminded her of the dancing snowflake-fairies in the Nutcracker. She smiled at the memory and tears slid down her face.

"Hey," A voice from behind her calmly echoed.

"Hey," she responded, not turning around, knowing exactly who it was.

"Are you okay?" Ron sat down on the couch next to her, his red hair a crazy mess. Hermione shook her head no and rested her head in his chest, more tears escaping.

"It's gonna be okay," he whispered, and hummed to her. They sat there like that for a while. Hermione silently crying, Ron running his hands through her hair slowly and whispering to her.

"What're you doing up?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Bad dream," Ron admitted.

"Me too," Hermione said, "Actually it was a good dream, a happy one, which was what made it so awful."

Ron nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. She had told him about dreams like this before. "I dreamt about my brother," Ron said. Ron had had these dreams before, as Hermione had had hers.

"What about him?" Hermione asked.

"We were seven. He and George were running after me, chasing me, they had stolen my dad's wand." He smiled, "I've always hated that memory, but now I love it. Now, I want it back, more than ever." He sighed.

"I'm sorry, Ronald," she said, "He will live forever, though. His memory will always live on, he made sure of that. I know you'll make sure of that too."

Ron smiled, "It just hurts. Living without him. Knowing that I'll be alive for so much longer, and that for so much of my life he won't be there."