Remember Me

When Mariah reached Jane's apartment, she found her pacing. Or, more to the point, prowling like a tiger in a cage.

"Janey?" Mariah said softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jane hitched, her voice carrying the shadow of unspent tears.

"You sounded a little panicked on the phone."

"I was. But I'm fine now." She sat on the couch and then popped back up again. "I just overreacted. Harry was here, but he's gone now."

"What happened?"

Jane stopped moving and stared at Mariah. What happened? A lunatic had entered her apartment in the guise of a slightly shy Englishman.

"Harry told me he's known me since I was eleven."

Just saying it out loud had the effect of deflating Jane like a balloon. Her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.

"Tell me, Jane," Mariah urged joining her on the floor. And Jane told her.

A knock at the door sounded and Jane nearly jumped from her skin. She'd spent an hour in the bathtub, but was still feeling edgy after the panic attack in the park. She opened the door a crack to see Harry standing there.

"Harry?"

"Jane. Sorry to arrive unannounced and uninvited, but I was worried about you after our lunch in the park this afternoon. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

His concern gave Jane a warm feeling. She smiled and moved aside to let him in. She wondered for a moment about how he'd found out where she lived, but as she was listed in the phone directory, Jane let it go. Any idiot with a map could find her.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked as he took a seat on the couch. He looked around her living room with an oddly wistful expression.

"Thank you, no. I'm fine."

"I wanted to apologize for running off this afternoon. I'm not sure why I did. My only excuse is that I've been feeling a little off center lately. Mariah thinks I'm trying to remember my past."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Not especially." Jane noticed Harry's frown but didn't comment on it. "The doctor told me that I may be repressing my memories because of some tragic or disturbing event. And if that is the case, I don't want to remember it. Everything I've read about amnesia says that when the patient recalls the event, it's like living it over again. If whatever happened was bad enough to wipe away my memories, I'm just as well leaving it in the past."

"But you could remember who you were," Harry prodded.

"I don't care who I was. I'm happy with who I am now." Jane crossed her arms at her chest. If she sounded defensive, she didn't care.

"Doesn't it bother you? What if you have a family? Friends? People who miss you and love you?"

"It's been four years, Harry. Where the hell have they been? Where were they when I first disappeared? If I have family and friends like that, you'd think they'd have at least filed a missing person's report. They obviously didn't care enough to find me, so I don't care enough to remember them."

Harry ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, revealing the scar that marred his pale forehead. His fingers brushed the scar. She gasped and stood suddenly.

"Get out," she said softly to him.

"What?" Harry sounded stunned.

"I mean it. Get out of my apartment. Now." Panic began racing through her again. But it didn't feel the same as when he touched her. This was more like fear.

"What's wrong, Jane?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just want you to leave. I'm tired."

"Don't you tell me nothing's wrong," Harry sounded exasperated. "I know that look on your face. Talk to me--"

"How can you decipher a look on my face, Harry? You just met me a few days ago," Jane matched his exasperated tone.

"No." Harry said, frustrated. He crossed to where she stood and took her face in his hands. "I've known you since you were eleven years old. I know every expression you have, and what they mean." As he leaned his face towards hers, she thought she heard him mutter, "I swear, I've loved you that long."

But before she could comment on any of that, Harry's lips were on hers. Gentle yet strong. Tentative but sure. And the answering terror that swam through her veins was too much. She pushed at his chest hard until he was away from her.

"Get out," she said in a near whisper.

And this time he did.

"I called you right after he left," Jane finished.

"Wow," Mariah breathed. "It makes sense, though, Jane. Maybe he does know you. It would explain seeing him in your dreams, at the very least."

"No," Jane's voice came as from a great distance. There was a ringing in her ears. She shook her head to dislodge it. Instead, the ringing grew louder.

"Try. Jane, try and remember. You have to."

"No I don't have to remember," Jane slammed her hand on the floor. "And I won't." She would have said more, but the shattering of glassware in the kitchen interrupted her.

Mariah glanced into the kitchen at the noise. When she turned back to Jane, it was to find her lying on the floor in a heap.

^*^*^*^*^

Ron gazed up at the stars, occasionally shooting glances at the illuminated windows above him. He told himself he was staying to make sure Hermione was okay...that Mariah had nothing to do with it. But he'd never lied to himself before, why start now?

He knew he ought to head to the hotel, try and convince Harry to stay, try and find out what had happened. Instinct had him remaining where he was.

Moments later, he saw Mariah through the glass doors. She flew out of the building, panting and looking around desperately.

"Ron," she gasped for breath. "Come upstairs with me. Something's wrong."

Mariah led him to the apartment. Ron didn't even try to cover his astonishment...not only at Hermione lying motionless on the floor, but also at her choice in furnishings.

"It's the Gryffindor common room," Ron said in soft awe. But as he knelt next to Hermione, all thoughts of interior decorating fled.

"She was telling me what happened with Harry, and she collapsed when I pressed her to remember her past. God, I'm such an idiot. I knew it was dangerous. I knew she wasn't ready. But I pushed on anyway." Mariah swiped an angry hand at the tears spilling over her lashes.

"It's not your fault, Mariah," Ron took her hand gently. "How long ago did she faint?"

"Five minutes or so. I've been trying to revive her, but nothing works. I even poured vinegar on a towel and waved it under her nose. She didn't even flinch. I don't think it's just a faint, Ron." Mariah sounded truly scared, and Ron was amazed at his instinct to comfort her. It wasn't like he'd lived as a monk, but neither was he known as the world's most sensitive man.

Disregarding those thoughts in favor of the situation at hand, Ron gave Mariah's hand a hard squeeze before letting it go.

"I've got to call her doctor," Mariah's said, her stomach clenching. No matter what Ron had said, she still felt responsible. "I think his phone number is in her day planner."

Mariah found the number and called it. "He's calling for an ambulance now. He'll meet us at the emergency room."

"Will you be all right by yourself until it gets here?" Ron asked. Mariah nodded yes, and Ron moved closer to her. "I need to tell Harry what's going on. I'll meet you at the hospital once I talk to him. Try not to worry." He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled slightly. Then, with a whispered swish, Ron was gone. Mariah sat on the floor, brushing Jane's hair away from her forehead and murmuring apologies as she waited for the paramedics.

*^*^*^*^*

Harry snapped the suitcase shut and sat on the bed next to it. He couldn't believe he'd come all this way and had found Hermione, only to leave her right where she was. A stronger man would have been grateful that she was alive and happy. Unfortunately, he wasn't strong. He was selfish. He wanted it all.

But he'd learned early in his life that what you want isn't always what's best for you. So he'd go on as he had before, minus the bottle and minus Hermione. A cold ache settled into his chest, and he did his best to ignore it. Maybe someday she'd remember....

"Bloody hell," he muttered, grasping the handle of his suitcase and preparing to Apparate himself back to England. Before he could, Ron appeared.

"Wait!" he bellowed. "You can't go."

"Yes I can, Ron. I have to. There's no point in staying. Hermione refuses to remember me. To top that off, when I touch her she gets hysterical. I can't take it anymore. It's breaking me in two." Spent, Harry sat heavily on the bed and stared at the floor.

"I know." Harry's head shot up, but Ron continued. "I watched you fall in love with her, then I watched you bury her, Harry. Do you think I don't know how much this hurts you? And just for your information, my friend, you're not the only one she's refusing to remember. But we don't have time to go into all of this right now. While Mariah was talking to Hermione, she collapsed."

"Mariah collapsed?"

"No. Hermione did. Mariah thought it was a faint, but she won't wake up. She's on the way to the hospital right now. I told Mariah I'd let you know what was going on and then meet her there. She's blaming herself for the collapse because she was trying to get Hermione to remember. So the decision is yours. Are you coming with me or going back home?"

Harry didn't respond. He stood up, walked past his suitcase, opened the door to the hotel room and looked back at Ron. "Let's go."

^*^*^*^

They arrived at the hospital half an hour later and found Mariah sitting in the ER's waiting room. Ron called to her as they approached. Still feeling a little shaky, she walked straight into Ron's arms and began to cry.

Harry watched his best friend quietly. Ron wasn't very comfortable with the softer emotions of women. He often said that he'd rather face a room full of spiders than offer comfort to a crying woman. Obviously, he'd gotten over that. Eyes closed, he laid his cheek on top of her head and ran his hands over her back until her tears ebbed.

"Sorry," Mariah stepped back hastily, wiping the tears away. "I'm usually more put together than this."

"Is there any news?" Harry asked.

"No good news. She's still unconscious. They've moved her upstairs to intensive care. I was waiting for you to get here before I went up. There isn't a whole lot we can do, though. Only the immediate family is allowed to visit."

"We are as close as family," Ron said tersely.

"Not good enough. And we can't lie. Dr. Ramsey's the one that found her four years ago. He knows she has no family."

"But we can still be there for her," Harry said, moving towards the elevators. "Whether she knows it or not."

They arrived on the fourth floor to find a deserted waiting area with uncomfortable couches and muted gray walls. Not exactly a cheery décor, he thought, but figured that most people sitting here weren't feeling very cheery anyway.

As they sat, the three of them huddled together, Ron took Mariah's hand and began massaging the back of it with his thumb.

"The doctor couldn't give you a hint about what's going on?" Harry pressed.

"All he told me was that they were moving her up here for monitoring and tests."

"Wish you'd packed the cloak, Harry," said Ron, an odd twinkle in his eye. "Invisibility cloak," he explained to Mariah.

"Excuse me?" a voice came from behind them. They stood at the same time and turned to face Dr. Ramsey.

"Is there any word?" Mariah asked eagerly.

"No change," he said without inflection. "Did I hear someone say 'Harry'?"

"Yes," Harry spoke up. "I'm Harry Potter." He extended his hand and the doctor took it. His eyes riveted on Harry's forehead and widened.

"I wonder if you'd come with me for a moment." The doctor walked off without waiting for an answer. With a confused shrug for Ron and Mariah, Harry followed.

"This is going to sound a little strange," Ramsey began when Harry caught up with him. "Jane's case is a rather confusing one. I'm going to skirt some confidentiality issues here, but I feel it is in my patient's best interest that I do so. Her current state is almost exactly the one we found her in four years ago. She's nearly catatonic. So far, she hasn't spoken. But the last time, she did. She said one word, over and over. Harry."

It took a few moments for that to sink in. Harry nearly smiled in spite of the seriousness of Hermione's condition.

"We weren't sure back then if she was uttering a name or a follicular condition. You know, h-a-i-r-y. She also has a rather interesting mark on her back. One you seem to share. Mariah told me that you and she recently met, but I can't ignore the connections. Is there any way that you know who that young woman is?"

Harry was stunned. He didn't know that Hermione had a lightning bolt on her back. Then he remembered brushing his hair from his face at her apartment. And seconds later, she'd demanded that he leave.

"Yes, I do." Harry left it at that. He had confidentiality issues he couldn't breach.

"Would you go in and talk to her? I'm not even sure she'll hear you, but it might help. I get the feeling that she is on the verge of total recall and being with someone from her past may help her."

"Lead the way."

Harry stood a little back from Dr. Ramsey as he pushed open the door to Hermione's room. With supreme effort, he got his feet moving towards her bedside. She was very pale, her hair lying in wild disarray across the pillows and wires connecting her to various machines.

He pulled a chair to her bedside and grasped her hand. Harry harbored a secret hope that contact with him would cause the panic to well up again and awaken her. But she didn't stir, remaining as still as death.

Time ceased to have any real meaning as he sat by her side, gripping her hand until his own was numb. Lulled by the steady beeping of the monitors, emotional exhaustion claimed him, and he laid his head on their joined hands.

A soft murmur made him raise his head, and he saw Hermione standing at the foot of the bed. He leapt to his feet excitedly before noticing that she was also still lying on the bed. And he was still sitting next to it.

"Hermione?" he asked, puzzled.

"Harry?" she asked...stunned, tears coursing down her face in streams. She said nothing more, she just walked towards him and straight into his arms. He sighed and wrapped his arms tight around her. It didn't matter that they were dreaming. It didn’t matter that she could wake up and remember nothing. It only mattered that he was holding her.

"I've missed you. More than I can say." He kissed the top of her head. "Does this mean you remember me now?" Harry pulled back enough to indicate the other Hermione lying motionless on the bed, Harry's hand in hers.

"I do. She's not ready yet," Hermione said softly. "I guess she's become so used to seeing you in sleep that she's letting me in now."

"What do you mean, letting you in? You're speaking as if you're different people. Help me understand this, Mione."

"I always loved when you called me that, Harry. You were the only one that ever used a nickname besides know-it-all." She paused and gazed into his face, her own blank. "And we are two different people. I'm Hermione Granger, she's Jane Doe. She's remembering bits and pieces, but she's not ready for the whole. It's all in her hands...if she wakes up."

Harry was speechless. What the hell did Hermione mean, if she woke up?

"Is there a chance --" he trailed off.

"There's always a chance." Harry didn't like the cryptic sound of that. But now that he had Hermione in front of him, knowing who he was, he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

"I need to know, Hermione. I need to know what happened to you. Why were you so afraid of me? Why did you keep pushing me away? What happened in the ca--"

She took several steps backwards, out of his embrace. "Don't ask about that. I don't know anything about that." Hermione faced him, a sad sort of smile turning her lips. "And you're wrong. I wasn't afraid of you. I was downright terrified."

"Why?"

Hermione closed her eyes and reached a hand up to place it near his heart. Harry clasped it and pulled her towards him again. He closed his eyes as well and felt a peace he hadn't felt in a long while. But then Hermione whispered "look".

His eyes snapped open.

He and Hermione were in Professor Trelawney's classroom. A younger Hermione was sitting in front of the Divination teacher.

"But you hated her, Hermione, thought she was a fraud." Harry whispered. "Why would you go to her?"

"I was seventeen, Harry. Scared out of my mind that I, along with one or both of my best friends, was about to come face to face with pure evil at its strongest. I remembered that she'd made a prediction to you that came true. I guess I was hoping she'd do the same thing again. Top that off, one of those aforementioned best friends was figuring rather prominently in my dreams. And not always in connection with an upcoming battle."

"Really?" Harry grinned. "Anyone I know?"

"Shhh," she hissed, pointing at the younger version. "Listen."

"Well, thank you for your time anyway, Professor." Younger Hermione stood and turned to leave, a look of disgust on her face. Back turned, she didn't see Trelawney's eyes roll back in her head.

"Beware."

Younger Hermione stopped and turned back around, bag falling from her shoulder as she noticed the look on Trelawney's face. "What?"

"Beware the battle, my dear. It is coming. And it will mean the end of all you know. I see three figures at the mouth of a cave. Two are joined, by the hand and by the heart. This joining will spell death and destruction--"

"Stop it!" Younger Hermione screamed, and then ran from the room.

Harry blinked rapidly several times at the tears that had pooled in his eyes. When he focused again, they were back in the hospital room. He gripped Hermione's hand tighter. But she wasn't looking at him, she was focused on Jane.

Harry tugged gently on Hermione's hand to pull her attention back to him. "And that's why you kept pushing me away. You were afraid that if we crossed the barrier of friendship..."

"It would mean your death, yes. A remnant of that fear still resides in Jane. Whenever you touch her." Hermione cocked her head to the side and released his hand. "I have to go. She's waking up." She stared walking away from him, but Harry called after her.

"Wait! Will she remember me?"

"I don't know," came a distant reply.

"I love you, Mione. Remember that." Harry yelled as the misty form of Hermione evaporated. He wasn't sure if it was wishful thinking or not, but he swore he'd heard a response. And that response was enough to give him hope.

The hand he held squeezed then released. He sat up quickly, wincing at his sore back. Hermione's eyes were open, and she was staring at him blankly. "Did you say something?" she croaked, voice dry from lack of use.

"No. Are you okay?"

"I feel strange. What happened? Why am I in the hospital?"

"First things first," Harry's heart felt like it had lodged in his throat. "Does the name Hermione mean anything to you?"