The Jazz Singer

Authors Notes: Thanks go again to my beta Melissa for all her lovely advice and coaching me through this chapter. She made some very helpful suggestions! Thanks also go to all the reviewers -and I hope you keep reviewing!

As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Hermione noted how pale her face was. The woman behind her frowned.

"Are you sure that's your name?"

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and flopped back into a kitchen chair.

"I don't know," she moaned in frustration, her head in her hands. "I don't know what I think any more!"

Hermione felt a slight rustling, and the woman took a seat at the table beside her.

"I know it's rough," she said sympathetically, reaching out a hand to rub the younger girl's back.

Hermione shook her head, raising it slightly to look the woman in the eye. "I thought I was doing better. I thought I'd accepted that I might never get my memories back. But the dreams just make it worse. And now...now..." Hermione shook her head again. "I know I'm being selfish. I know I'm lucky to be alive. And I don't mean to be ungrateful..."

"Stop that," said the other woman sternly. "You're not being ungrateful. Of course you want to know who you are."

Hermione watched the woman silently, reflecting on the whirlwind of the past few months.

She had no idea who she was. Her life was a total blank: from where she had gone to school to who (and where) her parents were.

The first solid memory she had was waking up in a large hospital bed, with a nurse bending over her. She'd been in an accident, they'd said. The accident had done serious damage to the temporal lobe of her brain, all but eradicating her long-term memory.

Hermione sighed as the memories came flooding back to her. She couldn't even remember her name, or where she lived, or how'd she come to have a British accent.

It was here at the hospital that she'd met Miranda Wagner - a night-duty nurse who had taken a liking to her. It was Miranda who'd spent the most time with Hermione during her recovery, spending many hours talking to her when she couldn't sleep, bringing her things that she needed, and even attending her rehabilitation sessions with her.

That was five months ago.

When she'd finally become well enough to be released, she wasn't really sure where to go - where did one go when they had absolutely no idea who they were?

Luckily Miranda came to her rescue and Hermione had been living with her ever since.

"Hey." Miranda touched her gently on the shoulder. "You've tuned out on me."

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I was just thinking."

Miranda surveyed her with worried eyes.

"Just how much sleep did you manage to get?"

Hermione shrugged. "Three hours. Maybe four."

Miranda shook her head.

"Maybe working at that club isn't such a good idea."

Hermione shrugged. "It's the only way I can make a living. I don't have any idea about where I went to school, or what my grades are. I don't have the qualifications to get any other job."

Miranda was silent for a moment. "Do you still want me to call you Nova?" she asked.

Hermione was silent for a moment. When she'd gotten out of the hospital, Miranda had suggested that, since she couldn't remember her real name, she should invent one for herself. Hermione couldn't really think of one that suited her, and in the end picked Nova, not because she liked the name, but because it seemed to remind her of something she had forgotten.

"No," she said after a moment. "I'm almost sure my name is...Hermione. I think from now on, I should be called that..."

Miranda went to open her mouth, but was suddenly interrupted as a loud shriek issued from the hallway.

"Mummy!"

A little girl came streaking into the kitchen. Her white-blonde curls were in disarray, her cheeks were flushed pink, and her blue eyes wide. In her hand, she held an old and battered teddy bear.

"Mummy!" the little girl said again, skidding to a stop beside Miranda's chair and tugging on her nightgown. "Frankie killed George!"

The little girl held up the teddy bear, and Hermione had to suppress a giggle. Her bear - "George" - had been beheaded.

Miranda, however, was not so amused. She stood up.

"Frankie Wagner!" she called. "Come into the kitchen this instant!"

A young boy of about seven poked his head out of his room sheepishly.

"I see you!" said Miranda severely. Frankie emerged, looking guilty, and shuffled to stand in front of his mother.

"Frankie - " Miranda held up the doll, " - did you decapitate George?"

"Did I decapmate George?" Frankie asked wonderingly, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

Miranda sighed. "Did you cut off his head?"

No!" the little boy protested, his eyes widening.

"Did so!" the little girl piped up from behind her mother.

"Frankie..." Miranda warned.

Frankie looked around desperately. "I only did it because Lily broke my Action Man!" he burst out.

The little girl bounced up and down in indignation as Miranda turned to her. "Did not!" she shrieked.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Frankie shot back.

"Stop it, you two!" Miranda snapped. Then she sighed. "Lily," she said, addressing the little girl, "did you break Frankie's Action Man? The truth, now," she added.

The little girl looked at her slipper-clad toes. "Didn't mean to, mummy," she mumbled. "Accident."

"See!" Frankie shouted. "She did break my Action Man!"

Miranda bent down, placing a hand on each of her children's shoulders. "So - now each of you have something broken," she said severely. "I want you to apologise to each other."

"Sorry," Frankie mumbled to the floor.

"I's sorry," Lily said quietly.

"Good." Miranda stood up. "Now, I'll see what I can do about getting you a new Action Man, Frankie. And later on we'll fix George, Lily. In the meantime - " she checked her watch, " - you two have to get ready for school. Chop, chop!" she added, and the two children raced back to their respective bedrooms, giggling. Miranda turned back to Hermione with a smile.

"Never, ever have children within two years of each other. It's a bloody pain."

Hermione smiled as Miranda returned to the sink and began to dish out plates of food. "Breakfast?" she offered. "We can set an extra place for you."

Hermione shook her head. "No, thanks," she said. "It's way too early."

Miranda nodded. "Are you going back to bed?"

"No." Hermione sat down again. "I have a few things to do before I start at the club tonight."

"What time do you start tonight?"

"Nine."

"That's earlier than usual," Miranda observed, bringing three plates of food to the table.

Hermione shrugged. "The owner says people like to hear me sing. He asked me to start earlier, and I need the money. They're also doing inventory before the club opens, so I'll be starting at six."

"That's a long shift."

Hermione shrugged, but didn't reply.

Miranda sighed, interpreting her response. "I know you want to pitch in. But what for? I've told you before, I'm happy to help you out."

"I don't want you paying for everything," Hermione said firmly. "It was bad enough when I was in hospital. The least I can do is pay my own way." She smiled at her companion. "We've had this discussion a thousand times before."

"Yes, we have," Miranda said. Then she raised her voice. "Come on, kids! Breakfast is getting cold!"

There was the thundering sound of footsteps, unlike like those a baby elephant would make, and then the two children appeared in the hallway, dressed in identical school uniforms. Giggling, they raced each other to the table and began to wolf down their food.

"Easy!" their mother admonished them. Then she did a double take. "Lily," she said, addressing her daughter. "What have you got on your face?"

Lily looked up from her breakfast, and Hermione could see the little girl had something red plastered all over her face.

"Don't I look pretty, mummy?" Lily beamed. "I look just like Nova!"

Hermione laughed. "Yes, you do," she said, leaning over to wipe some of the lipstick from the corner of the little girl's eye. "If I'd put on my makeup in the dark."

Miranda put down her knife and fork. "By the way," she said. "Nova's been able to remember her real name."

"You have?" said Frankie, looking over at Hermione. Hermione nodded.

"Really?" said Lily excitedly. "So - you remember everything now?"

"No." Hermione smiled at the little girl. "Just my first name."

"What is it?" Frankie asked.

"Hermione."

"Hermione?" Lily repeated. She was silent for a moment. "I like Nova better," she said decisively, returning to her pancakes. Hermione laughed again.

"Nevertheless, little munchkin," said Miranda, leaning over to ruffle Lily's hair. "That is her name. So, I'd like you to start calling her that, all right?"

"Okay," Frankie said, shrugging. Lily nodded.

"Okay." Miranda smiled at them. "If you're done, it's time to go to school. Frankie - get your bag. Lily, go and wash your face, sweetie."

"But mummy!" Lily protested. "I wanna look like No...Monie!"

"Hermione," corrected Miranda gently.

"It's all right," Hermione said. Then she leaned forward. "You have the rest of your life to look like me," she said to the little girl. "You've got such a pretty face - why do you want to hide it under all that yucky, gooey makeup? How old are you, anyway - fifteen?"

Lily giggled. "I'm five!" She held up four fingers.

"Are you sure?" said Hermione with mock-severity.

"Yes!" giggled Lily. "Fifteen is old!"

"Well, you'd better go wash that lipstick off your face before anyone else thinks you're fifteen! Quick!"

Lily jumped from the table, still giggling, and ran down the hallway. They heard the gush of running water.

Miranda turned to Hermione with a smile. "You sure know how to handle her."

Hermione shrugged. "If she thinks fifteen is old, I feel depressed."

"How do you think I feel?" Miranda retorted. "I'm twice your age."

"Hardly," Hermione returned.

The children returned to the table, and Miranda rose, grabbing her purse and keys from a small table near the door. "I'm taking the kids to school, then I've got a few errands to run. You'll be okay?" she asked. Hermione nodded.

"I've got a few things to do."

Miranda nodded. "All right. Well, I've got afternoon shift. Will you be okay to pick the kids up from school?"

Hermione nodded. "Uh-huh. I start at the club at six."

"All right." Miranda fished in her purse. "You'll have to call Mrs. Perkins to baby-sit, then."

"Not Mrs. Perkins!" Frankie suddenly groaned.

"Frankie!" Miranda admonished distractedly, still rummaging in her purse.

"All she does is talk about her sons," Frankie complained. "And they're boring! Like her!"

"That's enough," said Miranda, finally pulling a small card out of her purse and handing it to Hermione. "You'll be right to call her?"

Hermione nodded again and Miranda sighed.

"Great. I might see you later on, then." She peered out the front window. "It looks like it's going to be another muggy day. It's only November and already it's hot. It's going to be another horrible year for the bushfires. Come on!" she added, shepherding her children out the door in front of her. "See you later!" she called to Hermione over her shoulder.

"Bye, Hermione!" Frankie called.

"Yeah, 'bye Monie!" Lily echoed.

Hermione waved as the door closed behind them and the trio disappeared from view.

The house was suddenly and completely silent. Looking up at the clock, Hermione found that it was only half-past eight. She had hours before she was supposed to be at the club. Sighing, she made her way through the house, cleaning up after the two children.

The mess was sort of a constant thing, she reflecting, picking up a stuffed elephant and throwing it in Lily's toy box. The house was never really what she'd call clean.

By the time she'd cleaned up slightly, showered and dressed, it was ten o'clock - time for her to leave the house.

Stopping on the way out the door, she picked up the telephone, grabbed the card Miranda had handed her off of the table, and grabbed the phone. Dialling quickly, the held the receiver to her ear. The phone rang.

"HELLO?" boomed a female voice on the other end of the phone.

Hermione winced and held the phone away from her ear. "Hello? Mrs. Perkins?"

"YES?"

"Mrs. Perkins, I was wondering if you could baby-sit this afternoon for Frankie and Lily Wagner? Their mother has to work, and I start at the club at six."

"OH!" The woman on the other end of the phone sounded surprised. "WELL, IT'S SORT OF SHORT NOTICE..."

"Please," said Hermione desperately. "It's an emergency."

There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone. "OH - ALL RIGHT," the woman finally conceded.

"Thanks very much, Mrs. Perkins," said Hermione in relief. "How does five o'clock sound?"

"FINE, FINE," Mrs. Perkins bellowed. "I'LL BE THERE. SEE YOU LATER, DEAR."

""Bye," Hermione echoed, quickly putting the phone down. Shaking her head, she grabbed her purse and keys from the table near the front door. "That woman must be deaf," she muttered. She quickly locked up the house and shut the front door, hurrying down the front steps of the apartment and onto the busy street.

The sun was shining brightly as she set off briskly down the crowded street. In the distance, she could see the outline of Centerpoint Tower, the Harbour Bridge, and the Opera House, lined up against the smoggy mid-morning backdrop of the inner suburbs.

Hermione shook her head, reaching her final destination and peering at the bus timetable taped to the inner side of the bus stop. Finding that the bus she wanted to catch wasn't for another ten minutes, she sat down to wait.

**********

There was a click on the other end of the phone.

The woman slowly put the receiver back into its cradle and turned to face the man sitting at the kitchen table.

"Well?" he asked.

"I'm going again tonight," the woman answered, moving across the room to join him at the kitchen table.

He sighed. "Are you sure it's a wise idea?"

The woman shrugged. "What else are we supposed to do?"

The man sighed again. "I don't know. It's just so dangerous..."

"What's so dangerous about it?"

"You shouldn't have to ask that." The man frowned. "What happens if something goes wrong? What if you're discovered by her?"

The woman shrugged, picking up a cup of cold tea from the table. "In that event," she said quietly, "we'll have to kill her."

**********

Riding through the western suburbs, Hermione sat silently for most of the trip across town. She only moved when she saw a large building come into view outside the window. She stood up hurriedly and pushed a small button set into the rails of the bus. The button triggered a buzzing sound, and a light came on up at the front near the driver's seat. Making her way up the front of the bus, she gave the bus driver a small smile as he slowed down and pulled up in front of the bus stop.

"Thanks," she said quietly, disembarking from the bus.

As the bus pulled away, she looked up, shielding her eyes against the bright glare of the sun. The building in front of her was made from grey bricks, and was currently under construction. A big sign out the front read, "Royal Prince Alfred Hospital."

Hurrying through the big doors to the entrance of the hospital, she entered the main foyer of the hospital and looked around.

The hospital was very old. The windows were made of stained glass, and the floor was covered in black and white tiles. She was relieved to find that she remembered this place, and spurred herself forward, towards the information desk.

The man behind the big desk looked up as she approached. "Yes?" he smiled. "How may I help you?"

Hermione smiled back. "Hi. I'm looking for the neurology ward?"

"Neurology?" the man repeated. Hermione nodded. "Level eight. Take the northern lifts."

"Thanks," Hermione said quickly. She nodded to the man and hurried towards the northern lifts, passing a post office and cafeteria. Reaching the elevators, she pressed the "up" button and waited. When the elevator finally arrived, she rushed inside and pressed the "eight" button. The elevator doors closed, and Hermione took a deep breath, clasping her hands in front of her as the lift began to climb the storeys.

"Level eight," said a cool female voice as the elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors swooshed open.

Hermione exited the lift and looked around.

This was familiar. All of it. From the big glass window on the far side of the lifts, to the big sign over the entrance to one of the wards encouraging visitors to wash their hands.

Feeling a mounting sense of excitement, Hermione hurried towards the end of the lobby, towards a sign marked "Eight west two - neurology."

Stepping inside the ward, she immediately noticed the temperature change. It was cooler here, and Hermione smiled. It had been cooler on this ward.

Walking quietly down the ward towards the nurses' station, she took in her surroundings. That had been her room, she noted as she passed a four-bedded room currently occupied by three men.

"Can I help you?"

Hermione turned to find a blonde haired woman in a blue striped uniform smiling at her welcomingly.

"Oh, hi," said Hermione breathlessly. "I used to be a patient here, about a month ago. I was wondering if you could give me some information?"

"Oh." The woman looked puzzled. "Well, I'll see what I can do. Come with me." She motioned for Hermione to follow her through the ward and to the nurses' station.

"What did you say your name was?" she asked, bending down in front of a computer.

"Well, that's the problem," Hermione said slowly. "Up until this morning, I couldn't remember."

"Really?" The woman looked up, an eyebrow quirked.

Hermione nodded. "I had an accident, and it wiped out my long-term memory."

The nurse's frown deepened. "Complete amnesia?" she asked. Hermione nodded.

"That's extremely rare," the nurse said. "In fact, I don't think I've ever seen a case before."

"Really?" Hermione felt a cold chill. The nurse nodded.

"Anyway - what did you say your name was?"

"Hermione," Hermione said quickly.

"Last name?"

"I - don't remember."

The nurse looked up. "Of course you don't." She tapped at the computer screen quickly, then shook her head. "You're not listed here. Are you sure you were on this ward?"

"Yes."

"Well, let me check again." The nurse pressed a few more keys, and then sighed. "Nope. Your name doesn't appear in our patient lists for the last six months."

"But I was here, in this ward, for five months!" Hermione said in frustration. "I know I was!"

The nurse straightened. "Well, I only started here last week. Come with me, we'll see if the other nurses remember you."

Hermione followed the nurse down the long corridor with an increasing sense of trepidation. The nurse stopped outside a single room, and motioned for Hermione to wait outside while the nurse entered. Within a few moments, the blonde-haired nurse appeared with a redheaded nurse in tow.

"Joyce!" Hermione said in relief. "Thank goodness! I thought for a minute I was starting to go mad!"

The red haired nurse looked confused. "Do I know you?"
Hermione went cold. "Joyce - it's me. Hermione. Don't you remember me?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't." Joyce shook her head. "Who are you?"

"I was a patient here for five months!" Hermione cried. "I was told to come back if I remembered anything! And this morning I did! I remembered my first name! Joyce - " Hermione fixed her with a piercing look, " - you were my day nurse for five months. You don't remember me?"

"No," said Joyce. "I'm sorry. But I don't have the faintest idea who you are."

**********

"I'm back," Hermione called as she stepped through the front door of Miranda's apartment. There was a rustling noise and Miranda hurried out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she cried. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick! You start work in a couple of hours!"

Hermione sighed, throwing her bag on the couch. "I went back to the hospital."

"Hospital?" Miranda asked, looking confused. "What hospital?"

"RPA."

"What?" Miranda's face went oddly blank. "You did? Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "They told me to come back if I remembered anything. And I have."

"Well?" Miranda's face cleared, and she guided Hermione to the couch. "What did they say? Do they have any news for you?"

"They don't have any news!" At Miranda's puzzled look, she added, "They don't remember me!"

"What?" Miranda looked shocked. "What do you mean they don't remember you? You were there for five months!"

"I know!" Hermione cried. "I talked to Joyce - my day nurse? And she doesn't remember who I am!" Hermione stared imploringly at her companion. "You work there, you know! Why doesn't she remember me?"

Miranda's face cleared. "Oh, honey," she said. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Joyce was in an accident." Miranda put a hand on Hermione's knee. "She lost part of her memory. She was in the neuro ward herself for a while. That's why she doesn't remember you. Look," she added at Hermione's dubious look, "I'm on afternoon shift today. I'll sort it all out when I go in to work, okay?"

Hermione nodded slightly. "All right."

"Okay." Miranda smiled and stood up from the couch. "I've got to go to work. Oh - do me a favour next time you go somewhere like that."

Hermione looked up.

"Take me with you?" Miranda suggested. "I could probably be a lot of help."

Hermione smiled and nodded.

"Okay." Miranda bent down and kissed her on the cheek, slinging on a jacket over her nurses uniform as she did so. "I'll see you tomorrow, all right? The kids will be home from school soon, and Mrs. Perkins should be here a little while after that." Miranda picked up her bag and headed to the front door. "Bye, hon."

"Bye," Hermione echoed as the door banged shut. The house fell silent and Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, reflecting on the whirlwind her life had taken. She shook her head and stood up. She had to get ready for work. Heading towards the bathroom, she stopped in her bedroom and gathered up her "uniform" for the night - a long black dress appropriate for both sitting and standing for long periods of time. She carried it into the bathroom, hung it on a peg behind the door, and turned the shower on. The hot steam began to fill the room as Hermione stepped into the shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water on her back.

When Miranda had taken her in, Hermione had insisted on being able to pay at least some of the household bills. However, as she had explained to Miranda this morning, Hermione had no idea what sort of educational achievements she held. It was by a fluke accident that she ended up getting her job at the jazz club in Darling Harbour - she'd applied to wait tables, but the owner had overheard her singing whilst wiping down the tables and had hired her to be their new jazz singer - a talent she'd never known she had.

Or maybe she had known and had just forgotten.

The sound of the front door banging open and voices talking brought her back to Earth and she stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around herself, she opened the bathroom door a crack.

"Frankie, Lilly," she called, "is that you?"

"It's us!" Frankie called back. "We're home!"

"All right!" Hermione said. "Make Lily a sandwich and I'll be out in a minute."

"Can I come watch you get ready?" a little voice suddenly cried.

"In a minute, Lily. Have a sandwich and a glass of milk and then I'll be ready."

Hermione shut the door again and quickly got herself dressed and towel-dried her hair. When she was decent, she opened up the bathroom door. Sure enough, half a minute later, Lily came rushing into the bathroom.

"Okay," Lily said, climbing up onto the vanity next to Hermione. "Let's do it!"

Hermione smiled. "Okay. I'm relying on you. Let's make me beautiful!"

**********

Half an hour later, she was ready. Tucking the last strands of hair into her silky up-do, she reflected dryly that she could probably find her parents just by their hair. If it was as bushy and as hard to tame as hers, she should have no problems.

There was suddenly a knock at the front door, and Hermione turned to Lily, who was still sitting on the vanity.

"That must be Mrs. Perkins. Go get the door for me, would you?"

Lily nodded, jumped down from the vanity, and thundered from the room. Hermione turned back to the mirror to apply the last-minute makeup, and then headed from the bathroom. Hermione entered the living room to find a lady in her mid-forties with reddish hair being accosted by Lily. She looked up when Hermione entered and smiled.

"Hello, dear," she said, her slight British accent betraying her country of origin. "You look lovely tonight."

Hermione smiled back. "Thanks," she said. "You look nice, too."

"Oh, don't flatter me." Mrs. Perkins rolled her eyes. "I'm getting old."

Hermione laughed as Lily dragged the older woman into the kitchen, still chattering away. As Hermione followed them, her eyes flicked to the clock above the oven, and she picked up her bag hurriedly.

"I've got to be going," she said, interrupting Lily's constant stream of conversation. "I'm going to be late as it is."

"All right." Mrs. Perkins suddenly looked anxious. "Be careful, won't you dear? Sydney's streets are just getting worse and worse every day."

Hermione nodded. "I will. Miranda should be home about half-past eleven tonight. You know the drill."

"I do." Mrs. Perkins smiled. "I'll see you again, dear."

Hermione nodded, said goodbye to Lily and called to Frankie, and left the house.

Making her way down the street quickly was difficult in heels, but Hermione tried her hardest. If she wasn't careful, she'd miss her train.

**********

She arrived at Darling Harbour just in time.

Hurrying up the street, she groaned as thunder sounded in the distance. It was always this way - they'd get an unbearably hot day, followed by a night of rain. If she didn't hurry, she was going to be soaked.

Sure enough, five minutes later it began to sprinkle, the drops making the harbour look like an overgrown pond. Hermione could just make out the club in the distance. Holding her hands over her head to try and protect her hair from the rain, she quickened her pace as the rain began to fall harder.

Gasping and out of breath, she finally reached the entrance of the snazzy club. Even though she'd been there a thousand times before, she looked upwards at the building, admiring the sophistication of it.

It was a large, black building, which had the words, "The Jazz Club" in big letters near the top of the building. It was very bare, but also very sophisticated at the same time.

She reached into her purse for the key to open to front door. She was just about the insert the key into the lock when she heard a voice.

"Hermione?"

She turned.

A figure emerged from the rain, and Hermione squinted for a moment as the sun burst through the cloudy sky, so that the mysterious speaker was obscured.

"Hermione?" the voice said again. "Is that you?"

Hermione shielded her eyes and the stranger finally came into view. He was quite tall, with gingery hair and a lot of freckles. She felt her heart stop. For a second he'd looked so familiar...

"It is you!" the speaker looked immensely relieved. "Thank god I've found you!"

Hermione squinted at him. "Who are you?" she said uncertainly.

The stranger, who had been approaching her, now stopped. "You don't know who I am?" he asked quietly. She shook her head.

"No - should I?"

"Hermione - it's me, Ron. Ron Weasley."

Authors Notes: I bet you were all wondering where Ron came into the picture, right? And the plot thickens! Please, please, please review! When I get reviews, it makes me feel happy...