Remember Me

Not two minutes after reaching the library steps, Mariah heard Jane screaming "No!" and turned to watch her run flat out towards where she stood. Still out of breath herself after the close call with Ron, Mariah could do no more than stand aside as Jane rushed past her. She called out, but Jane didn't hear her. And, based on the glimpse she'd gotten of Jane's face, she decided to give her some time alone.

She took a few steps into the library's entry area when she heard another person running up behind her. Turning swiftly and holding out an arm, Mariah effectively blocked him. "Whoa, big fella."

"Pardon me," the man panted. It wasn't until she heard the accent that she realized who she was restraining. "But did you seen a young woman run through here just now?"

Mariah continued to stare. Her brain was trying to remember what it had been about to say, but the proximity of this man was blurring the connections. She remembered Jane and shook the confusion from her head. Unfortunately, the confusion turned into nervous quivers in her stomach. "Yes, I did, and no, I'm not going to tell you where she went."

"But..."

"Not on your life. And no sob story you give me is gonna change my mind. So unless you're looking for a book, the door is about twenty paces behind you." In a show of composure she didn't feel, Mariah walked towards the circulation desk and sat down.

The nervous quiver in her stomach became a downright earthquake when Harry joined Ron and they both faced her. "Is she here?"

"Yeah, but this one won't tell me where she is."

When they were right in front of her, Mariah sat up pencil straight and hardened her resolve to give Jane the space she obviously needed. "Look," she began.

"You're Mariah, aren't you?"

"Yes." Taken aback at the direct question, she warily drew the one syllable into three.

"My name is Harry. Last night at dinner, Jane told me what a wonderful friend she has in you. I know about her history, and I don't want to upset her further. I just need to know if she's okay."

Mariah sat there undecided. But Harry's voice, full of worry, tugged at her heartstrings. "I'll go and check on her, provided you two stay here and don't try and follow me. This is the second time in as many days that she's hidden out in the basement, and I'll admit to being a little worried myself." Mariah stood and walked towards the stairs, then turned. "Harry, Ron, if I even suspect you're following me, I'll have the police on you like white on rice."

Satisfied that they'd do as she asked, Mariah continued to the stairs.

It wasn't until she'd left them that Ron turned to Harry and asked, "Did you tell her my name?"

*^*^*^*^

"Jane?"

Jane slapped her hand over her mouth to quiet the sobs. She didn't want Mariah to see her like this.

"Janey? I know you're down here, so come out, come out wherever you are." Mariah found her a second later and frowned when she saw Jane's tear streaked face. "Okay, that's it. I've been holding my tongue for days now, and you are going to tell me exactly what's going on. And don't say it's the dreams, or that you're not sleeping, because I'm not buying that load of crap anymore."

Struggling to her feet, Jane put on her bravest face and hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks. She opened her mouth to dispute her friend's claims, but when Mariah raised a single eyebrow, Jane reconsidered.

"I don't know what's happening," she said truthfully.

Mariah hooked an arm around Jane's waist and led her to the top of the stairs. Catching the eye of the head librarian and giving her a telling glance, Mariah steered Jane towards a conference room. She also held up a warning hand to Harry and Ron, who appeared to be moving towards them. Luckily, Jane didn't notice them.

Once Jane was settled in a chair with a cup of water in front of her, Mariah sat back, crossed her arms and waited. "Talk."

"I don't know what to say, Mariah. Other than I think I'm losing my mind." When Mariah didn’t respond, Jane drew in a deep breath and continued. "It started with the dreams. They're a little different than before, now I am seeing a man in them. But for some reason, my subconscious has superimposed Harry as that man."

Mariah's eyes widened. Jane wondered at her friend's odd look, but dismissed it. She'd tried to introduce the two, but Mariah always seemed to vanish when Harry was around. That meant Mariah probably had no idea who she was talking about.

"He came into the library a few days ago, and we went to dinner last night and had lunch together just now," Jane summarized.

"Sounds lovely, so what's with the basement dwelling routine?"

"It's strange, and a little scary," Jane's voice trembled. "But every time he touches me I feel...."

"Happy? Content? What?"

"Panic. Heart stopping, run-for-your-life panic."

Mariah's face scrunched up. "That doesn't make any sense," she muttered.

"What?" Jane wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly. Of course it didn't make any sense.

"Nothing. Have you told Harry about this?"

"I couldn't. It'd be too embarrassing. Oh God, and the way I ran off screaming...you'd think he pulled a knife on me or something."

"I get the feeling there's more to this than you're telling me," Mariah pressed gently.

Staring at a point just beyond the cup of water, Jane muttered, "Things are moving by themselves."

"What?" Mariah asked.

Jane wasn't sure whether she hadn't heard her or hadn't believed her. "Things are moving around by themselves. I look at a book, and it flies into my hand. I wonder where my tea is, and it moves three feet towards me. Sometimes I've muttered nonsense words, sometimes I haven't." Jane leaned forward and rested her head on crossed arms. Just saying that out loud had taken weight from her shoulders but at the same time it had sent apprehension down her spine. She had the feeling that she'd told a secret she wasn't supposed to tell. "And then there's the mark on my back."

"What mark on your back?"

Jane showed her and sat back down heavily. "Dr. Ramsey said it was there when he first found me, and now it's returned."

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes, although I wouldn't call it painful. More like an ache." Unconsciously, Jane placed a hand over it and rubbed.

While Mariah seemed stunned speechless by all she'd heard, she hadn't tried to come up with rationalizations. She'd taken it all at face value. That was the measure of true friendship, Jane smiled to herself.

"Right now," Mariah said softly, "I think you need to go home. Take a hot bath or a nap and collect yourself. Then I think you need to talk to Harry."

Jane thought about protesting but didn't. She agreed about the bath part, and she'd think about talking to Harry. "But work...."

Mariah interrupted. "I'll clear things with Mrs. Iverson. You haven't taken any sick leave or even a vacation in the year you've worked here. Take some time, get things straightened out. Your job will be here when you're ready."

More than a little worried, Mariah watched Jane leave the library, told their boss what was going on, then walked towards Ron and Harry. And now for the hard part, she thought.

^*^*^*^*

"Is she all right?" Harry asked the moment Mariah reached them.

Mariah didn't say anything, instead motioning them into a study room. It was one of the few places in the library where they could talk, but not be overheard.

"She's fine, Harry. I sent her home to rest. She's been dealing with a lot lately." She sat and indicated that they should as well.

"How did you know my name?" Ron asked sharply, still standing.

She sighed. This was the moment she'd both dreaded and anticipated since she'd first heard Jane say "Mione". "I recognized you right off. After all, what young witch hasn't heard the stories of Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?"

Her statement was met with a near deafening silence.

"You're a witch?" Ron was the first to break it.

"Yes. American, but a witch."

"How the bloody hell did you get to be best friends with Hermione?" Ron demanded, growing more suspicious by the moment.

"I was visiting my parents last year and was walking through the monuments downtown. Imagine my surprise, when I glance over at the Library of Congress steps and see Hermione Granger sitting there...three years after she died. I'd seen her face too many times in news accounts not to recognize her immediately. At first, I was too shocked to do anything more than stare. Then my brain kicked in, and I followed her home, got her name from the mailbox and found out where she worked. I thought it must be some kind of trick or her double, especially since she didn't have an accent. I got the job at the library to try and figure out what was going on. But as we became friends, I realized that there was no trick. She was Hermione Granger, she just didn't know it."

"Then why didn't you tell us?" Ron snapped viciously. "Why did you let us go on believing she was dead?"

"She did tell us, Ron," Harry said quietly. "Mariah sent the message."

That seemed to anger Ron even further. "And thanks loads for that detailed note, Mariah. Very helpful and informative."

"Ron," Harry cautioned, but it was no use. Ron's face was nearly as red as his hair and Harry knew holding him back was pretty useless.

"What, Harry? Our best friend is here, and all this one," he indicated Mariah with a terse wave of his hand, "can think to send us is 'Hermione's alive'. Not alive and well in bloody America. Not contact me at this address, and I'll tell you what I know. Just two damn words that had us chasing our tails for nearly a year. I, for one, would like to know the rationale behind that brilliant move."

"You have to understand. I spent my teen years poring over newspaper accounts about the three of you. The Triwizard Tournament your fourth year, the Cross-Atlantic Quidditch Finals fifth year, Voldemort's death seventh year. And all the little blurbs that would appear every now and then. You three were like rock stars to me. I clipped every story and pressed them in a book. As it was, it took me nearly a week to find the courage to send that note. I was positive wizards as powerful as you would be able to trace it back to me. I spent a month waiting for you to show up on my doorstep...about as mad as you are now."

"And what, when we didn't, you just forgot all about it? Decided you'd given it your best shot and the hell with it?"

"No. By that time, I'd gotten to know Jane --"

"Hermione," Ron hissed.

"I know her as Jane, Ron. Anyway, we'd become good friends. She told me about the nightmares she'd first had. About her fears and doubts. And I began to think that maybe she didn't want to be found. I respected that."

"Thank you, Mariah," Harry smiled at her. "I'm glad she's had such a close friend. I appreciate all your help."

"Help?" sputtered Ron.

"You didn't just send the note, did you, Mariah?" Harry looked up at her, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"No, I didn't." Mariah sighed and plunged on. Might as well spill the whole thing. "About two weeks ago, Jane came in looking like she'd been hit by a truck. I finally got her to admit the nightmares had come back. When she told me, I realized what she was dreaming about and knew her memories were trying to break through. I also knew that if that happened, she'd need you here. So I stayed at her house one night and placed a charm on her bed so that she'd find you in her sleep, where she could handle it."

Mariah bit her lip at the scrutiny from Ron and the gratitude from Harry. It was hard to keep the other things from them...Jane's panic attacks, the mark on her back, but she knew those were not her secrets to tell. She'd meddled enough. She just hoped that they could all forgive her once it was all said and done.

"Again, Mariah, thank you. If you'll excuse me, I need to walk a bit. Get some air," Harry pushed his chair back and left them quietly. Which left she and Ron alone together. Tranquilizers couldn't have stopped the pounding of her heart.

"Ron, I...."

"Save it." He rose to stalk after Harry, but she placed a hand on his sleeve.

"I am sorry I couldn't do more, but I was afraid."

"Of what? Us? We are her best friends."

"Put yourself in my shoes, Ron. I'd idolized you...all of you for years. And one of my heroes was suddenly my friend. I was twenty years old and fresh out of school. I didn't know which was the right course to take, so I went with instinct."

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again. The immensity of what she'd done had just occurred to him. She hadn't just befriended Hermione, she'd lived and worked with her. As a Muggle...for a year. A part of him wondered if he'd have done the same.

"I still don't get why you were so frightened of us," he said softly, finally sitting down. He was having trouble with the rock star analogy. "I mean, we're just a witch and two wizards."

"Who had been fighting Voldemort off and on for seven years and were finally able to defeat him. Just the three of you, before you'd even graduated. It's a little daunting just to be in the same room as you," Mariah finished on a breathless sigh.

"Two of us, actually. Hermione wasn't there. She was still in the hospital wing when we found him. By the time she arrived, I found out later, the battle was just about over and he was just about dead."

"Just about?" Mariah asked.

"Apparently he still had some energy left. Enough to perform AK on Hermione. Avada Kedavra," Ron clarified when her brows creased. He sometimes forgot that most witches and wizards didn't use slang for the forbidden curses as they did. "When I woke up, Harry was huddled in a corner muttering 'she's dead' over and over. It wasn't until I got your message that I even considered she was still alive. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. People die when hit with that curse, they don't disappear. The only thing we could figure is that You-Know-Who didn't have enough power behind the curse to kill her, only to send her away."

Their eyes met in the silence of the room. Ron watched a myriad of emotions cross her face until she blushed and turned away. Blushed? He nearly shook his head. Women blushed around Harry, not him.

"I have a question," Mariah said timidly.

"What is it?"

"Did you really fly a car to school one year?"

Ron laughed, long and loud. And then he smiled, really smiled at her. Mariah thought her heart was going to leap from her chest. Ron told her the true tale of their second year trip to Hogwarts, complete with sarcastic side comments about Harry. He was just finishing, doing a decent impression of his mother's howler, when a ringing phone interrupted them.

Mariah unclipped the phone. Her good humor over Ron's story faded abruptly. "Jane? What is it? I'll be right there."

Ron stood and walked over to her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. She's crying, sounds scared. I need to get over there. You may want to find Harry. I have a sinking feeling he may have something to do with this. She sounds panicked again."

"Panicked?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. I didn't tell Harry because I didn't think he needed any more good news. Whenever he touches her, she is overcome with panic."

"That doesn't make any sense," Ron sighed.

"Exactly what I said," Mariah replied and smiled even wider when Ron joined her. She still couldn't take in that she was sitting here talking to Ron. Ron Weasley. The man who's pictures she had all over her scrapbook. The boy she'd had a crush on since she was fourteen.

"Or maybe it does," Ron muttered and Mariah's eyes widened. "Right before we met...him...in the cave, Hermione had an accident. Fell down the stairs. Harry told me what preceded it, and it sounds like she was having panic attacks around him even then. I just wish I could perform a Memory Spell on her and help her past this."

"You can't," Mariah sighed. "It's too dangerous. If there's a reason she's keeping herself from remembering, then we have to respect that. She'll remember when she's ready."

"I know. But knowing doesn't make it any easier."

"I've got to get over there. It's not a long drive, but I may hit traffic."

"Why not just Apparate?" Ron asked, curious.

"Things are different here," Mariah explained. "The Muggles are too suspicious of everything. Come with me, and I'll fill you in on the way." Mariah walked to the door and her pulse skipped when he placed a hand to the small of her back as he held the door for her.

*^*^*^*^

They were still talking over the differences between American and British Muggle life when they reached Jane's apartment building. Harry was sitting on the front steps.

"Harry?" they said in unison.

"You'd better go to her, Mariah," Harry sounded miserable. He waited until she'd entered the building and spoke to her retreating back. "Take care of her for me. It was wonderful meeting you."

"Harry?" Ron was stunned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going back to England...tonight." Harry stood and walked away without another word.