The Project

Hermione returned to her flat that evening, emotionally exhausted and worrisome. She couldn't get the image of her father's complete confusion out of her head.

She returned the SUV to her parents' home from which she Apparated into her quiet, dark flat. She dumped her purse and kicked off her shoes in the foyer where she proceeded to drag her way into the kitchen where she produced two bottles. One with Fire Whiskey printed across the neck in shimmering gold and red letters. Somehow, the second bottle in her hand was more appealing. The dark blue label read Watson's 2% Reduced Fat Milk.

She grabbed herself a tall frosted glass from her freezer, smiling at her cynical humor. She poured the milk into the mug that was frozen to contain beer, whiskey, Bailey's anything, really. Anything but milk.

She hadn't even bothered in turning on any lights and since it was going on eleven. There wasn't any light to be seen, except the sprinkling of silver moonlight slipping in-between the spaces of her ventilation blinds. Hermione stared into the vast openness of her beverage.

Hermione sighed and watched the milk in her mug flutter in little tiny ripples. Then, she sat erect, her entire body alert with the presence of a revelation.

____________________________________

Hermione got up really early that morning. But really, in all truth, she never really "got down." She had stayed up all night reading, her heart skipping with new ideas, possibilities, imaginations. In fear of losing even the slightest fragment, she wrote down everything she thought about on a piece of parchment.

Her laptop was set atop her lap, her fingers flying across the web browsers, her head in as many neurosurgery books that she had on her. She didn't actually know how many books she had when she actually started looking.

After throwing on some clean jeans and a navy-blue, short-sleeved blazer, she left her flat with her pages of research and findings. WWRC didn't even start to really operate until nine, but she knew the advisors got there much earlier. She arrived at worc at about six, where she stood idly, her sling backs tapping the excited rhythm in her head.

Her weariness soon grabbed a hold of her, so she made herself comfortable on the marble floors and against the heavy wooden door to Dr. Patel's office. He didn't arrive until about five before seven, already jotting something down on his clipboard. When she saw him approaching, she stood up hastily, lugging the bag with all of her newly found ideas up with her.

He noticed the movement and looked up. He walked up to the sheepish-looking Hermione, she was adjusting her bag. He gave her a clean, curious and stern look. She opened her mouth to say what she had prepared all morning, including the extremely early hours. But he cut her off.

"Miss Granger, I thought I told you that you were not to come in today," he said briskly.

Hermione nodded but spoke in return, "Dr. Patel, after what happened yesterday with my father, I came here to ask you a question," she said calmly.

"Pray tell, Miss Granger, what is that question?" he asked.

"How intensely has the obliviation curse been studied?" she said, although it looked like she already had the answer.

"Not much. We just know that it is irremovable," he said. Hermione pursed her lips.

"So, are you telling me that no study has been made to further this theory?" Hermione said.

"There is no theory, Miss Granger. The statement is fact. There is no way to undo the damage caused by an obliviation charm," he said sternly.

"There are no facts in science, Dr. Patel, you know this. There are theories and laws, both which state that they can be altered. And not only is this science, Dr. Patel, but this is magic! There are no such things as fact," she said passionately. Dr. Patel sighed.

"What are you saying, Miss Granger?"

"I am saying that I have stayed up studying the way the obliviation charm works. There is nothing to research! Then I came up with a theory of my own. However the charm works, I believe that surgery can be a way to remove it!" she exclaimed.

"Surgery? You can't be serious. Surgery has not yet been susceptible in the wizarding world," he said, finally unlocking his office and going in. Hermione followed him into the dark. He flipped on the lights, sickly blue fluorescent. Electricity was a necessity at WWRC.

"But it can be."

"But obliviation charms need live volunteers. Unless you want to find a way to bring your cadavers back to life along the way and ask them exactly what they remember," he stated sarcastically.

"Well, we can find the money. Sponsors. We'll run the idea past the board, we'll hunt sponsors," Hermione said.

"Miss Granger, like I said, do you just want to shove a scalpel in a wizard's face and expect them to agree to surgery?"

"Dr. Patel, there has to be a way. Just think about it. That the memory is only shielded, not completely and unalterably changed. Think of the way the charm can be removed, unmasking that evidence," Hermione said.

"What kind of evidence?" he said at the oddness of her word.

"The war, Dr. Patel! Think about amount of obliviation charms that will be cast in the next years. Think about how many fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters will be affected by their memory dissolving into thin air. Think about how many memories can be achieved and taken in as evidence. The light side will be able to take victims and use surgery to their advantage!" Hermione said, pacing around the room.

"Granger, if this is about your father-"

"Dr. Patel, this is only partially about my father. But you can not deny the fact of what potential this idea has!" she said.

"If it works!" he exclaimed. Hermione stared him directly in the eye.

"Dr. Patel, you cannot seriously be doubting the probability of the success of this. This is a research institution! This is our purpose, your purpose; this is the entire fucking building's purpose!" Hermione stopped in horror of her slack language. She was a firm believer that cursing was not a way to be professional. She took a deep breath and began to start again. "How are we to know if we don't try?" she asked timidly.

Dr. Patel seemed to roll the idea around in his head for a while. He also seemed taken aback by her fierceness and aggressiveness. He sat down at his desk and began to think a bit.

"Alright, Miss Granger, you seemed determined enough. If I allow this I must be first supervisor, all progress is returned to me and if one thing goes wrong, I'm shutting it down," he stated.

Hermione had to stifle her squeal. She wanted to run over to him and hug him, scream thank you over and over again, but instead she thanked him (quietly) and left to start her progress.

____________________________

Hermione was to spend the evening not with just Harry and Ron, but with the entire Weasley clan. She wasn't very prepared for answering questions about the current state of her father, but if it was for anyone to know, it was that family.

She pulled on a yellow sundress, for it was still mid August. She was fixing herself in the mirror when the idea struck her. Harry and Ron were leaving for Auror training in Romania next week. For two months.

She sighed sadly, while she twisted her hair into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Grabbing her purse, she quickly Apparated to the family that actually remembered her. She winced physically at the harshness at the thought, but dismissed it sullenly as she was attacked by the massive redheads.

They were sitting on the patio that over-looked the great green plains of the woods that surrounded the Burrow. The air was warm and sticky, and the sun had begun to set behind the massive green foliage. Hermione was sucking on a lemon from her lemonade and waited for the questions to approach her.

Sitting around the large glass table was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Bill, Ginny, Ron and Harry. They were watching as Charlie and Bill's wives chased their children around the yard, their laughter ringing loudly and jocundly.

"How are your parents, Hermione, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked Hermione.

"Mum," Ginny and Ron hissed at the same time. Mrs. Weasley cast them an innocent look.

"I was just inquiring their health, that is all," she said quietly. Hermione looked up from her glass and smiled sadly.

"It's fine. I wish I could say they were doing terrific, Mrs. Weasley, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to say that truthfully for some time. I appreciate your concern, though," Hermione said, surprised by her own formality towards them.

"Do you know what happened?" Ginny asked, suddenly curious.

Hermione guessed now that once one person had the nerve to ask, the others were allowed to inquire the same subject.

"They were attacked by Death Eaters," she said, back to inspecting her lemon thinking about the Fibonacci sequence, anything about that night. The intuitive Molly caught on, by the rest of the table did not notice her reluctance.

"Oh, Jesus," Harry breathed. "I didn't know that. The Aurors weren't contacted," he said, a bit irritated.

"I know. I didn't want them in on this," Hermione said.

"And why is that?" Ron asked.

"Because, it's to personal. I had it filed as an incident, but I refused an investigation," she said, now plucking the seeds from the lemon's insides.

"You don't want justice?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Not at this particular moment. My family needs to focus on getting the practice running again, my father getting his memory back an-"

"His memory back? What do you mean by that?" Mr. Weasley prodded. Hermione finally looked up.

"I'm researching a way to reverse the effects of an obliviation charm," she said with some excitement.

"Hermione, there is no way to reverse an obliviation charm," Mr. Weasley said with evident pity and apprehension in his voice. Hermione sat up, placing her glass on the table.

"There is no evidence that anything says such a thing. The idea has been stationed in our heads that none of us have even attempted on seeing if there is any cure," Hermione said, her cheeks flaring up in excitement.

Ginny, Harry and Ron were staring at her with incredulous looks.

"So, they are alright, otherwise?" Ginny asked. Hermione frowned.

"I don't see how my father's memory vanished from his mind is 'alright.'" Hermione said evenly.

"Well, I just meant-"

"Hermione, Ginny just meant physically," Harry said, interrupting. "You have to admit, your family is a lot better off than the first Death Eater attack two weeks ago. At least their lives were spared."

Hermione, for some unknown reason, flared up in anger.

"I don't know what's worse, Harry. My father being dead to me, or me being dead to my father."

_____________________________________

The first thing Hermione did was formulate a theory. She constructed a plan for her research, of everything it would take to get it together. She began to formulate the plans for surgery first. She began her own campaign for the positivity of surgery in the wizarding world. She tried to be as organized and appealing as possible. She had never done this sort of thing before. She didn't know how to go about asking people for money. Which is why she saved Gringotts and the other large Wizarding banks around the world for last.

The board was a lost cause, told her there wasn't any more money to give out until the next year. She felt humiliated and dejected by her own company. Lied straight to her face.

Her first attempt in getting a sponsor was ridiculously humiliating. She stuttered and stammered, standing by her lonesome in a small room, her knees pressed together, her ankles seemingly connected, her hands wringing each other. She stumbled over her words as she watched the incredulous faces of the bank's panel. She nearly ran out of there crying, the malicious faces staring at her if she were a monster.

She wouldn't get her first sponsor for another three months. In-between then, she acquired her team. She interviewed the Cog Dep employees along the side of Dr. Patel, who left most of the hiring up to her.

From the English WWRC, she hired, of course, Becca, Jacob, and Henry. They were the only ones interested in taking her risky dive into the seams on the hybrid Muggle/Wizard world.

She contacted the Russian, American and French WWRCs and interviewed about another twenty employees, finally hiring from the American and French WWRCs.

Her team list consisted of:

Becca Abby (English WWRC)

Lauren Belle (American WWRC)

Henry Copland (English WWRC)

Geoffrey Lemeur (French WWRC)

Aaron Smith (American WWRC)

Jacob TWill (English WWRC)

And of course, Research Leader Hermione Granger.

Becca, Henry and Jacob were immediately assigned to the team where they began the research right away. The beginning stuff was just a lot of bookwork. They took trips to several national libraries in Europe to obtain as much information about the human brain as humanly possible. The foreign researchers would be relocated when there was enough money to pay for their salaries. But in the meantime, the English team was immersed in their books.

_________________________________________

It would be two years of book work, research and cadaver dissection. Lots, and lots of cadaver dissection. Hermione was bloody sick of cadaver dissection. She dissected and analyzed every part of the brain: the cell structure, the parts of the brain where memory was stored, how the brain worked with memory.

They read over several cases of medical problems involving car accidents and other such tragedies where Muggles lost their memory to a harsh blow to the head. They worked on Short-Term Memory Loss for a good while until she was certain that the cases would not help their research in the slightest bit.

Her entire life was being poured into the life of this project. She sacrificed her weekends for interviews with private banks, trips to America, Belgium, Austria, France, everywhere for even the slightest amount of money.

By the time of her second year, she grew wearisome with the idea of more sponsor-hunting and worried for The Project's survival. Dr. Patel was seeming to have the same ideas.

He was always consulted Hermione daily about their budget and how close they were to their targeted goal. She had measured and counted for days until she came up with an appropriate goal that would suit the team eagerly. It wasn't until the skepticism was becoming to thick to work in did they get their first most sponsor.

Their greatest benefactor was a bank in America called Revars and Long. Aaron and Lauren had been scouting for Hermione while they worked in the American WWRC in the depths of West Virginia. Hermione formulated with them a contract in which they swore to promise enough funding for the next five years.

Once she had enough funding, Hermione was ready to finally proceed with her Project. She relocated her foreign team members to the English WWRC where they would begin the first step to her growing and idealistic plan.

When she was granted permission from Dr. Patel, she realized the dangers of going into the Wizarding world with surgery in hand blindly. There were too many differences between Muggle medicine and Wizarding medicine. She really couldn't just grab a scalpel and jab it at Wizards and expect them to cooperate. .

So, thus began her first invention: The scalpand, a medical tool that was a versatile medical instrument that substituted as any medical device. The wand could also perform several simple spells without the complications of the wand not matching its beholder.

Hermione had spent many months designing her instrument, hopefully a breakthrough in the modern medicine world.

The entire team was devoted to the first invention, each and every member having an idea of their own that could appropriately suit the invention in its own way. Mr. Ollivander was also hired for the creation of the scalpand. He helped to create the simple core of a scalpand. He educated Hermione in the versatility of certain ingredients that would ensure that the wand would not be biased to just one hand.

He also became a solid benefactor in The Project's baby days. He visited often, checking up on the progress of the operation he helped to conduct.

After creating the first step of The Project, there was the experimenting. They were not willing to perform neurotic surgery on live patients for fear of losing a life. But both Hermione, Becca and Aaron were opposed to performing surgery on animals. They feared that the end of the experiment would approach if they did not suck it up. They contacted several local wizarding animal hospitals and they all agreed to send over the animals who were confirmed to not live more that two or more weeks.

Hermione was given an anesthetic that made the animals sleep, then a drug they used to put dying animals to sleep. She signed contracts that agreed that once the animals served their research purpose, she would immediately put them to sleep (more like Geoffrey and Henry).

The sadness of performing on such a tame and domesticated animal distressed Hermione, but she would think of her father and everyone who was suffering with the pain of a loved one not remembering the faces they used to call beautiful.

Hermione wasn't sure what she looking for when she started hunting around the brain. She was looking for some sort of damage, broken nerves, hieroglyphics...just something.

Her heart ached with the aggravation of not finding anything and wanting to find something so bad. It wasn't until late April, nearly three years since The Project had began, did she find something.

It was explosive. She was performing on a calico cat, when her yelp of surprise startled the scalpels out of everyone's hands.

"Oh, God. Oh, God, Oh, my God!" she exclaimed in pure and utter shock. She had her eyes under a microscopic spell, so reversed the spell and motioned for her team to come look.

"Charm your eyes and look in the center," she said breathlessly. "Do you see them? The little purple clusters?"

Lauren gasped audibly and Jacob cursed quite loudly. They both turned to Hermione where they enveloped her in a hug. She put down her scalpand while the seven of them twirled, bopped and jumped around in utter excitement.

Dr. Patel joined them in the ruckus, trying to get someone to talk without screaming in excitement. He grasped Hermione by the wrist and pulled her to the side.

"What is going on?" he tried to ask sternly, but the grins of everyone, Hermione's being the brightest, was contagious and he couldn't help but given in a smile himself.

"We found something. Here, let me show you," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the cat. Dr. Patel charmed his eyes to zoom in and observe.

What Dr. Patel was looking at was what looked like dark, purple encasings around the membranes of the brain cells. They were formed in small, clusters that were staggered around the lobes of the brain.

He looked up incredulous. Hermione let another bright, white smile gleam from her.

"I have no idea if these are lesions or even a tumor, but it's something and after nearly there years, just a little bit of something is a really big something," she said, rambling.

____________________________________

That evening Hermione was to meet up with the team at a local pub to celebrate their findings and her birthday that weekend. But first, she wanted to stop by the hospital. Her father had been in room 334 for the past two years now, his mind too unstable and confused to do anything but be contained to a hospital room. The room was nicely furnished, with carpeted floors instead of the hard tile of the ER. There were thick red curtains and a twin bed with a matching duvet.

Hermione and her mum had argued with the doctors that he should have come home, back to where he belonged, but it was against Patrick's free will. He didn't want to return to a house he never remembered belonging to. As more and more isolated he had become, the more unstable his sanity became.

He slept all of the time, had gained a considerable amount of weight and refused to claim Helen as his wife or Hermione as his daughter.

Which is why Hermione checked to see if her father was asleep before entering the warm room. She hated coming here, to see him in the same position every week, wilting flowers from the nurses at his practice set aside on a bedroom side table with stacks and stacks of books. She got her love of books from her father, who taught her of realms where fairies do exist and of fields of flowers where she could run trough without hesitation, worlds that she'll never forget.

Hermione dragged a visitor's chair up to her father's sleeping side. She stared at her father, confusion etched into his features, even in his sleep.

"We've made a breakthrough, Daddy," she whispered quietly, as not to wake him. "I believe that if were to find some way to disfigure these shells around your brain cells, you might be able to remember Mum or me. I promise that I'll figure it out. I promise that you won't go on with this life, you won't go on, pushing away your memory of us. We'll be here, always."

She then grabbed the book off of the top of one of the towering stacks. She found that it was Wuthering Heights. She grinned to herself, laughing through tears. Hermione's mother read this to her when she was pregnant with Hermione. Her Dad would tell her about how he was lulled to sleep by the words of Emily Bronte, the voice of Helen Granger and the idea of Hermione Granger.

Surely he remembered something. Either way, Hermione opened the book and started at a bookmarked page.

"They were much too absorbed in their unusual joy to suffer their embarrassment..."

_______________________________

Hermione nicknamed them Shelbeys. She started off calling them shields, which is what would go down in a formal textbook, but at the lab, shields transformed into Shelley, then to Shelbey.

The lab sounded a lot like this:

"Did you get that Shelbey last night, Jacob?"

"How about cutting that Shelbey out for now?'

"These groups of Shelbeys are more lavender than violet."

"Quick, before Shelbey 1 and Shelbey 2 die, get them in the vials!"

The data was enormous. Now that they knew what to look for, the evidence was evident everywhere. The banks anted up their profit for the next round of surgery, Hermione's budget growing to enormous numbers.

The shields were basically walls that surrounded the brain cells in a multitude of dozens blustered together. They were seemingly un-penetrable, strong and lifeless.

Seeing that the last three dozen animals were kept in stable condition and woke up from surgery after being healed from their state, Hermione and Dr. Patel decided to upgraded to human volunteers.

She was surprised at how many people signed up for the position. Sure, it was high paying, but they could possibly die. I guess they all believed that magic was going to save them even when Hermione stretched the fact that dying was such a huge risk. They'd also lose their hair in the process. Shaving their heads made it much easier to operate.

Hermione was elated when their first four humans lived. She was also elated that in all four, she found the curious group of purple cells. Each volunteer responded well, their answers generally the same, their memory cut off around the same time. They would come back every two weeks in search for complications or infection. There was none.

The team also noticed that the obliviation spells were located in almost the exact same areas as all of the four brains. It was Jacob who conducted the idea that certain memories were distributed in certain areas of the brain. Such like, the oldest memories are stored in the back of one lobe, closer to the center and the more recent memories were located near the front, closer to the surface. They didn't have time to prod this theory.

Their fifth volunteer died. There were some serious complications that didn't closely relate to the surgery, but in the end Tabitha McCrown died on her way to the hospital.

Hermione took a week off of worc which meant that the entire team took a week off of worc. She spent the days in bed, processing the life that was lost that day. How the wire that hung in the air counting her heartbeats had started buzzing sporadically at insanely faster rates. Hermione immediately healed her scalp, removing all instruments and closing it, but the sporadic buzzing wouldn't stop.

Hermione Apparated her to the hospital, levitating her to the doctors, but it was too late. Tabitha McCrown, nineteen years old with dark, dyed blue hair that she had to shave away, died because of her surgery.

Dr. Patel came to drag her out of home one day during the week. She thought that it was to yell at her then told her if she didn't come back to worc, that he would fire her. Instead, he waltzed out of her fireplace, startling her sleeping form on the couch and inspired her to come back to worc.

He kneeled beside her like he did when he gave her the news about her father those years ago, told her how important the project she had started was to him. More important than his baby. The difference in the minds of Muggles and Wizards. He told her how important the project was going to be to the wizarding world. How not only was it going to completely change the war still-to-come, but it was going to modify Wizarding science and medicine. They had a Wizarding revolutionary right under their noses.

He told her how Tabitha McCrown had been a heroin addict for, what the coroner had said, possibly two years now. There were complications with the nervous system, the drugs used in the lab, and even the spells used. That there was nothing she could've done, Tabitha McCrown was going to die either way.

Hermione still cried into her hands, mourned the soul of Tabitha McCrown and wished there was something she could've done.

Dr. Patel pulled Hermione's hands from her face, cupping her wet palms in his hands. After a long, mysterious kiss, Dr. Patel became just James.

_____________

The war had not come yet. The Wizarding world was slowly letting their guard down, for the rumor was old, the preparation was useless. They felt like they were waiting for something that wasn't going to come.

Years passed and Hermione waltzed in and out of breakthroughs for The Project, but the pace was slowing down. They lost Geoffrey to a better engagement in Marine Sciences in Turkey, but the rest of the team held steadfast, working through weddings, children and relationships.

Hermione only tested animal subjects for the time being. Her spells were becoming too experimental, gory even, when cast. For four more years, she compiled down reject spells, antidotes, potions. The only thing that kept her going was her team's support and the thought of her saddened, mindless father alone in room 334.

She continued seeing James, although it was a private affair. Worc was not involved in their relationship. Sure, they discussed it outside of the labs, but their affection was left outside the main entrance to WWRC.

Hermione never actually thought that the relationship would ever be serious, for he was going on thirty-two and he would probably soon be searching for a wife to accompany him throughout the rest of her life, which Hermione could never devote herself to. She made a promise to the Order, and nothing would keep her from fighting when the time was right.

Besides, Hermione wanted to see too much. Marriage was not an option for her. A real relationship was not an option for her. James, to her, was an object to crave. A whirlwind that she was caught up in.

It was in her seventh year of the Project when she made the final breakthrough. She was twenty-four years old, going on twenty-five, and was conjuring some interesting results.

She was wrapped under the sheets with a sleeping James when she threw herself from him in a sudden revelation. She quickly jotted down what had flitted through her mind in the moments between consciousness and sleep. She threw on a robe and insisted that James Apparate to the lab with her. He grudgingly obliged.

She hastily unlocked the laboratory doors, flicking a light over her table on, then dashing into the back room only to returned with a softly mewing cat. She had been waiting to perform on this particular cat with her lovely black coat with glistened even in the single, glistening blue light that hung over the stainless steel table. The poor feline had a growing tumor in her large intestines, her life span dwindling by the hour. She gingerly set the cat down, keeping as much pressure off of her stomach as possible.

James was mumbling about being dragged out of bed by the woman who had been at once peacefully sleeping beside him, but was now running around the lab in his bathrobe, caressing a cat that she was going to put to sleep anyway.

Hermione shot him a dark glare and threw the coat over the robe and put on her gloves. She generously put the cat to sleep and began the surgery. She cast ten obliviation charms as standard procedures persisted. She took out the pocketed piece of paper, and constructed her spell. Geoffrey had gone to an incredibly prestigious charms school in France in which they all took turns attending for a half-year course on how to construct spells from certain elements.

The construction of the spell took about a half of an hour with Hermione being so anxious. James had nagged her for a while before dozing off behind her desk. But she nervously checked and rechecked the spell to see if it was perfect. With a deep breath and a prayer to whoever was listening, she swished her wand in the manner she thought would be right.

Closing her eyes, she charmed her eyes to focus in on the cells of the brain. Her heart stopped. She checked, rechecked, but there it was. Or there it wasn't. Before her eyes, the purple shield was deteriorating before her eyes. She uncharmed her eyes and leaned back. She searched for something lean on but missed and tumbled to the ground. The clatter woke James.

"Hermione?"

"Hrmmmph?" came her response. He walked around the operating table to see her sitting on the floor in a heap, staring off into space with a glossy gaze. He kneeled down beside her.

"You alright, love?" he asked. She turned to him, her gaze glossy with daze, but with tears.

"We did it. The...the...shield...the shield is gone. Her cells, they're right there, no purple shield. They're gone," she said with a teary apprehension. His eyes went wide. With a whoop, he stood up, scooped her up into his arms.

Together they laughed, screamed, and whooped at their findings. They had done it.

Now, Hermione was going into the surgery she had created. Becca, now Dr. Abby, was going to perform the procedure they had perfected over the past seven years (well, now it was eight, Hermione just didn't remember the last one).

Hermione decided she wanted her to do it. Nearly the entire team had received their doctorates in the fourteen months she was gone, but she wanted Becca to do it. She realized that without her, research had stopped, but the data was saved and protected. Becca seemed to be the only one who fully understood what Hermione was babbling about with the spell. She had talked to all of them and finally decided that Dr. Abby was her best choice.

She had been prepped, taken the drugs she remembered distinctly giving to all five human patients of hers. She had talked to her team, the closest friends she had. Harry and Ron were gone. Not literally gone, but the Order had relocated them five months ago. They probably didn't know she was back.

Her team had told her stories of what happened when she was gone, how afraid they were for her. How afraid they were for her now. They were afraid of what she would encounter when she got her memory back. She was afraid, too.

But the nurse called Dr. Abby to surgery. Becca turned to her and kissed her on the top of her bare head, a symbol of everything they went through together. She gave her a nervous wink as she left with the nurse. Hermione hugged each and every one of her team before she left with the second nurse that had come to retrieve her.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and stored away the memory of what it was like to not remember anything.