Author's Notes: This story was written especially for my friend Kristen, in honor of her 19th birthday. At her request, I posted the story here. As stated in the summary, this story's pairing is Harry/Hermione. Don't like? Don't read!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I am not making any money off of this. It's just for fun!

And now, without further ado...

"Like I Lived My Life Again"

Chapter 1

"A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor." Alexander Smith, Dreanthorp

Hermione Granger was more tired than she had ever been before in her entire life. She was completely, utterly drained. Coffee had sopped working about twelve hours ago. Even Energy Charms weren't helping anymore – of course, she'd been too tired to even try casting one for about three hours now. Her body ached, and the hard chair she was curled up in was only accentuating the pain. But she could not, would not sleep.

Hermione was the sole guardian watching over Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived and recent savior of the Wizarding world. It had been nearly thirty-six hours since he had defeated Lord Voldemort, and he still hadn't woken up. He was in some sort of coma, and the Healers weren't quite sure what to do for him. Hermione could tell the Healers were worried by the way they urgently whispered and muttered whenever they came in to check on Harry.

A lot of people were celebrating right now, and rightly so. Lord Voldemort was gone for good. But from Hermione's vantage point in Harry's cramped little room in St. Mungo's, things looked pretty bleak. Ron was injured – it wasn't life-threatening, but he would probably limp for the rest of his life. The rest of the Weasleys were down the hall with Ron, minus Ginny and Bill, who were dead. Neville was also dead – he died trying to protect Ginny. Professor Flitwick was dead. Seamus Finnigan was wounded, possibly fatally. The Creevey brothers were dead. Luna Lovegood was severely injured. Lavender Brown was dead. And there were many, many more. And now Harry was wavering on the line between life and death.

Hermione sighed, pushing a strand of disheveled brown hair behind her ear. She didn't like all this sitting. The more she sat, the more the numbness inside of her began to fade. The faces of her fallen comrades were beginning to float through her mind in a sort of morbid parade, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her heart realized the horrible truths her mind already knew.

"Please, Harry," she whispered. "Please come back to us. I can't lose you, too. Not you too. I…I'm not strong enough to lose you…"

The tears began to well in her eyes. For once, she didn't mind. Maybe she needed to cry. She hadn't cried for a long, long time. Over the past year, she had had to be strong, for Harry, for Ron, for everyone. She went through the entire ordeal of the hunt for the Horcruxes without shedding a single tear. But now, here by Harry's hospital bed, with Voldemort defeated and her world crashing down around her, she felt she had earned the right the cry. And so, her small frame shaking and her soft whimpers filling the dim little room, Hermione Granger wept until every ounce of energy still left in her was gone.

Two Hours Later

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Hermione woke with a start. She didn't even know that she had dozed off. Blinking her puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she looked at her watch. "Two hours?" she muttered, angry at herself for falling asleep. She looked at Harry. Still no change.

The knock sounded again, and Hermione croaked, "Come in." The door opened slowly, and Mrs. Weasley stepped in. Her eyes looked much like Hermione's.

"Hermione, dear, I--" Mrs. Weasley's voice wavered. She swallowed and began again. "I just wanted to tell you that Ron has been released, so we'll be heading home. It's not that we don't want to be here with Harry, it's just – given the circumstances, we – well, there's arrangements to be made, and Ron will still need some extra help, and--"

Hermione broke in. "Oh, of course, Mrs. Weasley, I understand. I don't blame you one bit, and I'm sure Harry would agree. Don't worry, I'll stay here with him. I'm okay."

Mrs. Weasley looked at Hermione's tear-stained face and the dark circles under her eyes. She sighed. "No, dear, you're not okay. But I know you better than to think I can convince you to leave, even for a little while." At that, Hermione gave a weak smile.

"You'll let me know when…when the services will be?" the young woman asked softly.

"Of course, of course. But if Harry's still here, we'd understand if you couldn't

make it."

"I'll be there anyway," Hermione assured her. "Harry would be mad at me if he knew that I missed Ginny and Bill's fu…that I missed…it…because of him." For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to put "Ginny", "Bill", and "funeral" in the same sentence.

Mrs. Weasley paused, uncertain of what to say. A single tear made its way down her cheek. Hermione felt like she should say something else, but what do you say to a mother who's just lost two of her children? So she said the first thing she thought of: "Tell Ron I said 'get well soon'."

"I will, Hermione. Good-bye, dear."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. Bye."

The door closed with a soft click, and the little room was quiet once more. Hermione rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up. Her two-hour nap had done nothing to abate her exhaustion, but she refused to sleep any more. She had an ever-present fear that Harry would wake up and she wouldn't be awake to help him if he needed her.

Just then, she thought she heard a soft moan come from Harry's bed. Every fiber of her being strained to see or hear something else, something that would indicate he was coming out of his trance-like state. She was about to give up when—there! His eyelids fluttered, she was sure of it! Her heart leaped. Excitedly, she left her chair and kneeled next to his bed, taking his hand in hers.

"Harry?" she asked hopefully. "Harry, can you hear me?"

A muffled moaning noise came from Harry's throat. His eyes fluttered open again, and this time they stayed halfway open. His lips tried to form a word, but they were too parched. Luckily, Hermione always seemed to know what he needed.

"Do you want water? Is that what you want, Harry?" He nodded his head, just barely. Hermione reached for the water glass next to his bed and brought it slowly to his lips. When he had gotten enough, she returned it to the bedside table. "Better?" she asked, studying his bruised face. Again, he gave the slightest of nods. "Oh, Harry, you had us so worried. I'm so glad you came back to us," she said, voice full of emotion. She was blinking back new tears, but these were tears of relief and happiness.

"W-where…?" Harry managed to whisper.

"You're in St. Mungo's, Harry," Hermione answered. She stroked his hand gently. "You fought Voldemort, remember? But you won, Harry. It's all over. You won. He's gone!"

"Voldemort? Who…?" Harry questioned, his voice slightly stronger.

Hermione stared at him in shock. Her spirits, so recently raised, fell a bit. "What do you mean, 'who'? Harry, what's wrong with you?"

Harry turned his head slightly and stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Then he pulled his hand away from her loving grasp.

"D-do I know you?" he asked, his voice troubled.

Hermione was speechless. "Do you know me? Do you know me? Harry, do you mean you don't recognize me?"

Harry's response was a blank look. Hermione felt like crying once again, but from disappointment this time.

"Harry, it's me, it's Hermione. Hermione Granger. You've been my best friend since we were eleven," she said, her voice choked with frustration and worry.

"I can't be your best friend," Harry said, his brow furrowed. "I don't even know you."

The sting of rejection registered as strongly as if she had been slapped. Hermione sighed. "Harry, do you remember anything?"

Harry paused. Then a look of panic entered his eyes. "No, I don't," he said. "What's happened? I can't remember…I don't know…anything!" He looked at her wildly.

"Shhh, Harry, calm down. I'm sure it's some side effect. Remember how I said you fought someone named Voldemort? Well, we aren't quite sure what all he did to you. I'll go get someone to help, okay?" Hermione said, trying to sound like her usual rational and calm self. The only problem was that she hadn't felt like her usual rational and calm self for quite some time.

Hermione hurried into the hallway, looking around for one of the Healers who had checked in on Harry occasionally. She managed to find one, a tall man with white-blonde hair and a rather comical little mustache. He was standing next to a counter, flipping through some papers on a clipboard. Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir…" she began.

He turned to face her. "Ah, Miss Granger. Has there been a change in Mr. Potter's condition?"

"Yes, sir. He woke up, and he spoke to me," Hermione replied. "But he doesn't remember anything. He didn't recognize me, and he doesn't even know who Voldemort is!"

The Healer flinched at the use of Voldemort's name, an old habit that would be hard to break. "Well, I was afraid there may be something like this. Let me have a look at him, and we'll go from there."

Hermione followed the Healer down the hall to Harry's room. Harry had his eyes closed when they entered, and for a second Hermione feared – or was it hoped? – that she had imagined the whole thing. But his eyes opened when the Healer addressed him.

"Hello, Harry, my name is William Johnson. Glad to see you're awake. I'd like to ask you a few questions, check out a few things. All right? Miss Granger, I think it'd be better if you stepped outside for a few moments."

Hermione began to protest, but Healer Johnson refused to let her stay. Reluctantly, she went into the hallway. Leaning against the wall, she collapsed and slid to the ground, resting her arms on her knees and burying her head in her arms. Healers and nurses walked past her, not giving a second look to the heartbroken girl who had recently helped save the world.

So Harry was alive. But he didn't even know her name. Was it permanent? Would he ever recover his memory? And then a darker thought—maybe it was better for Harry if he didn't remember. Then he wouldn't have to live with the pain and the horrible memories and the grief. But no, that was silly. There were so many good things to remember too, like all the trips to Hogsmeade, or lazy evenings by the fire in the Gryffindor common room.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Hermione heard footsteps that actually stopped next to her instead of walking past. She looked up to find Healer Johnson, a concerned expression on his face. Standing quickly, Hermione pushed her hair out of her face and tried in vain to read the Healer's expression to see if the news were good or bad.

"Well, Miss Granger, it's obvious that Harry is suffering from amnesia, or memory loss." Hermione nodded; she knew that much. "Now, it's hard to determine whether or not it's permanent because I can't be sure what caused it. Mr. Potter did receive several blows to the head, and if that is the cause, the amnesia will most likely be short-term. But if the memory loss is the result of some curse or combination of curses received during his encounter with You-Know-Who, well then, there's no way to know."

"So…what do we do now?" Hermione asked, trying not to let the implications of Healer Johnson's words sink in.

"Well, physically, Harry seems to be mending nicely. He actually didn't receive too many injuries. Normally we would keep him longer, but I think we'll try to release him in three days, as long as no new conditions appear. The best thing for patients with amnesia is to be surrounded with familiar things, things that may help jog their memory. So here's what I would say. Someone needs to take Mr. Potter to a place that would evoke the most positive memories. Then he will require almost constant care…he will undoubtedly have lots of questions that will need answering. He will also need to come in contact with as many familiar things from his past as possible. Do you know a place that would be good for him?"

Hermione paused. "Well…we were going to take him to the Burrow…that's the Weasleys' home. But I think perhaps Hogwarts might be a better place for him, given what you've said. And it'd probably be better for the Weasleys, too, considering…"

Healer Johnson nodded. "Yes, I think that would be the best, if you can work it out with whomever you'd need to get permission from. Now, do you know someone who can take care of him?" He had a slight smile on his face, but Hermione didn't notice.

"I can do it," Hermione answered quickly, her troubled eyes staring at the closed door to Harry's room. "The Weasleys are—well, you know about that situation. And most anyone else that has been like family to Harry is dead. So I guess that leaves me."

"Yes, Miss Granger, that leaves you. But after seeing the way you've remained at his bedside this whole time, I can't think of a better person for the job."

Hermione was too worried to think about his compliment. "What about visitors? Is it good to have familiar people around, too?" she asked, shifting her gaze back to the Healer.

"Well, yes and no. It just depends. Sometimes patients feel overwhelmed and panicky when they are surrounded by people they're told they know but whom they can't remember at all. It's probably good to go slow, just one or two at a time, and only after some memories of that person have returned, if at all possible."

"And…if his memory doesn't return?"

"Well…we'll cross that bridge when we get there, if that is the case."

Hermione took a deep breath. "One more thing, Healer Johnson. Given Harry's celebrity, I know people are going to want to know what's going on with him. But I don't really think that's the best idea, don't you agree?" she asked, pulling herself up to her full height and trying to look imposing.

"I do agree. Don't worry, we'll make sure that nothing but the barest of details are released to the press. We'll say that Mr. Potter was treated for relatively minor injuries, and then was released to be taken to an undisclosed location for some well-deserved time to recover and grieve in peace."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Healer Johnson."

"No problem, Miss Granger. You may go back in Harry's room now, if you wish. I think he's starting to accept that you really are a friend. Call me if you need any help, or if there's any further change in his condition." With that, Healer Johnson headed down the hallway to check on another patient.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione returned to Harry's room. "Harry?" she asked quietly, shutting the door behind her.

"What's your name again?" Harry asked.

Hermione fought desperately to keep her voice from breaking as she replied, "I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"And you say we're friends?"

"Yes, Harry. Do you believe me?"

"I think I do. Mr. Johnson said you've hardly left my side since I was brought here. I guess you wouldn't do that for some person you hardly knew, right?"

"Right. Well, I'm glad you believe me, because it looks like I'm going to be taking care of you after they release you in a few days," Hermione said, moving closer to Harry's bed and putting what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face.

"Don't I have any family to take care of me?"

Hermione froze, her smile fading. Oh boy. How did she answer that?

"Well, Harry…not really. Y-your parents died when you were a baby, and you were raised by your aunt and uncle, but you don't like them very much. Basically, Ron and I are your family. And the rest of the Weasleys, Ron's family, they're pretty much your family, too. And then there was Siri-" Hermione stopped, realizing that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to bring up Sirius right now. She would just have to tell Harry that his godfather was dead, and what good would that do?

"Who's Ron?" Harry asked.

"He's your other best friend. You and Ron and I, we've been practically inseparable all through school," Hermione said slowly, trying not to say anything that would bring up an uncomfortable subject. "And Ron's family, the Weasleys, they love you very much, but they have…uh…an…unfortunate situation right now…so I'm going to be taking care of you."

"What kind of situation?"

Bill and Ginny -- another topic she didn't want to discuss right now. Hermione paused, trying to think of the right words. "Harry, I don't think that now is the best time to talk about this. Why don't we both try to get some rest, and we'll talk some more later? Just wake me up if you need anything."

"All right, Hermione." Harry closed his eyes.

Relieved, Hermione sat in the uncomfortable chair once again. Her mind was whirling, but her exhaustion won out, and she fell into a fitful sleep.