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Hermione with her parents in London when she first saw him.
“James!” Her father called out to a tall, ropey guy with curly hair and a tote bag. He instantly felt familiar.
Hermione dismissed it. He had a different face. A big chin. And a port mark on his arm.
“Come meet our daughter,” said Michael.
“Daughter?” James smiled, “No, you must be Ellen’s sister,” he held out a hand to Hermione.
Ellen huffed, swatted at him. “This is our Hermione,” Ellen said fondly.
James nodded, “Charmed.”
“Yes,” Hermione said, becoming aware she was staring.
“Have a drink with us,” Michael said.
Hermione’s heart clenched. She told herself she was being crazy. Because there was no way. A guy could be 40 and have Harry’s look and the name James. That guy was in front of her, chatting with her parents, ordering a pint.
“How’s Lou?”
“Busy. The show opens next week.”
“Lou does Shakespeare in the Park,” Ellen said to Hermione.
Hermione drank her pint, began to breathe normally again.
“So, Hermione, you helped your parents? After their accident?”
Her stomach swooped. “What?” Her parents talked about that with a Muggle?
Her father squeezed her arm. “Hermione was our biggest support.”
James nodded. “It’s wonderful, that you trained in caregiving.”
“We told him, sweet. How you helped us find doctors, nurses.” Healers. Hermione had found them Healers. “Helped us with therapies.” Muggle and magical, but predominately magical, therapies.
“It’s so difficult, accessing specialized healthcare,” James said.
This was a topic Hermione’s parents cared about, and they engaged James further. He worked as some kind of advocate for people with ailments not covered by NHS.
After a few minutes, James pulled out a pack of playing cards. For a surreal moment, Hermione thought he was going to do a magic trick.
“Know the rules to spite and malice?” he asked Hermione, shuffling with a flourish.
“It’s mostly luck,” her father said.
“Spoken like a sore loser, Michael,” ribbed James, dealing.
Hermione’s heart was in her toes, then her ears, the her toes again.
After a few rounds, James’s cell rang again. “Lou! I ran into the Drs. Granger. Oh, and you’ll never guess who Michael and Ellen have with them.” His eyes went to her, smiling. “The famous Hermione!!!” This got a big laugh from Ellen and Michael. Hermione blushed. “Yes, just a bit tipsy. See you soon.”
After he hung up, he noticed Hermione’s embarrassment. “Your parents love to talk about you. Especially to patients who can’t interrupt their odes.”
Her father shrugged, “She’s one of a kind.”
James just smiled.
——————
Hermione couldn’t sleep. She was anxious around Harry the next day.
“What’s up?”
“Something weird.”
“Yeah?”
“I was with my parents and we ran into a guy that looked like you. And. He’s called James.”
Harry didn’t gasp, didn’t react. He gave a half-hearted laugh. “Funny.”
Somehow, she managed not to say the words port wine stain.
When Ginny got home, Hermione made meaningful eye contact until Ginny went to her study. Hermione followed her, closed the door.
“Okay,” she said after Hermione told her.
“The guy. James. Looks like him.”
Ginny didn’t look impressed.
Ginny swallowed. “Huh.” “But…you’ve visited his grave.”
“I know,” Hermione sagged. “I’m being mental, aren’t I?”
“How much did he look like him?”
“I thought a lot! But maybe I imagined it.”
“Well, we’ll have to see him sometime.”
—————————
Hermione told her parents she wanted to talk to James about his advocacy, see if she could help. It took a week of maneuvering but they agreed to give Hermione his number.
“Hiya,” he said, giving Hermione a quick hug.
“I’m James,” he offered a hand to Ginny.
“Ginny,” she said, looking a little too intensely at James.
“My colleague,” Hermione explained.
“I’m Lou,” said a slim guy with hazel eyes, who’d been hidden behind James. “I came prepared,” he unfurled a blanked and pulled four notebooks out of his tote.
They sat. “Lou and I have memory loss over the same stretch of time,” James began. “So I figured they needed to be here to tell the story.”
“He needs a straight man to play against,” Lou deadpanned.
James tsked. “You’re about the furthest thing from a straight man…”
Ginny was still staring openly at James. Hermione had shifted to Lou. Their eyes were more brown than green. But they were big. Big as Harry’s.
“We know Hermione’s parents,” James explained to Ginny. “They mentioned that she helped them recover some of what they lost.”
“They only lost two years,” Hermione could feel Ginny thinking.
“Lucky ducks,” Lou said.
“How much did you loose?” Ginny asked.
“So, I remember my parents a bit,” James started. “And then things get hazy. They’re not clear again until what, seventeen years ago?”
“Eighteen now, yeah?” Lou said.
“Same for you?” Hermione managed to ask Lou.
“I remember more about my childhood. My parents. My sister. A neighborhood friend. But yeah, school is a blur, I just know it was residential. Found some letters. My sister thought I was a nut, so it could’ve been an institution.”
At this point, neither Ginny nor Hermione could speak.
“Wow. Mentioning a mental institution right off the bat?” James said.
“Why not? She can’t help us if she doesn’t know the problem.”
“We don’t know how long we were out of it for. Don’t know if we met then, on the streets, or if we’d known each other before.”
“I’m sure we knew each other before,” Lou said.
“You also thought you were psychic,” James said.
“That is yet to be disproven,” Lou said, with a small smile.
Lou realized Hermione and Ginny were stunned. “Oh, I’m joking. Mostly.”
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