I would like to see Jamie," she heard herself say longingly, and she was surprised at the need to see this boy. Her mother made a teasing 'hmph' noise.
"It's a fine thing, he lets you call him that, but the rest of us get the stink eye for it," Their mother said with a twinkle in her eyes that told Hermione that this was an old joke for them.
Within seconds, she could hear the pounding of feet up the stairs and the boy with hazel eyes had thrown himself down next to her bed. His glasses were slightly askew, and his cheeks were pink. He still had that anguished look in his eyes as he looked at her.
"Are you really, truly okay, Hermione?" he begged her. She nodded slowly.
"Yes, Jamie," she said quietly. "I am really, truly okay, but what happened?"
"I was practicing Quidditch. You know I want to be a Chaser. I'm going to be the best Chaser that Hogwarts has ever seen! Anyway, er, there was a rogue bludger, and it hit you in the head." James hurried to get everything out that had been heavy on his young heart. Hermione blinked at the information overload.
"You were practicing for Quidditch? Jamie, they don't let first years try out for the team," Hermione said cautiously. Jamie shook his head.
"I don't care. I'll be twice as good in my second year. I'm just so so sorry, My Own. When I found you, unconscious and bleeding I thought I'd killed you. I was so scared," he whispered, his face pale, his eyes wide at the memory.
"Oh, Jamie. I'm all right. Come hug me, and see for yourself," she said with a shake of her head for her brother.
He threw himself at her then, hugging her until she couldn't breathe, and she told him to get off. Notty cracked in with her broth and toast, which James insisted on feeding her. She rolled her eyes at him for that, but he insisted. When she finished all of her broth and toast, he tucked her back into bed and ran for their mother. Hermione felt a rush of love for her mother when she entered. She had a wealth of memories about this woman, and it overwhelmed her for a moment.
It was several days before Hermione was deemed well enough to totter around the house. She had a bath, and her mother helped her wash her waist length hair. When she was dressed in a beautiful silk dress, and her hair was brushed out carefully, she went and stared at herself in the oval looking glass. The girl that stared back at her seemed surprised to find her there. She appeared to be about ten years old, with hazel eyes just like Jamie and their mother. Instead of bushy chestnut hair like she had expected, she found wild unruly black curls that cascaded down her back to her waist. It was her face, she thought, but it also looked like a more delicate, feminine version of James' face. Was that her? She touched her face in the mirror. Was that her? She frowned at her reflection and then she bared her teeth and inspected them. Neat, even, white teeth gleamed back at her. She smiled slightly at herself. It was her smile, she noted carefully, and the thought comforted her.
James helped her downstairs carefully, as though she were made of glass. There was a man standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting patiently for her. He looked familiar. He looked rather like James with his wild black hair, but brown eyes twinkled at her from behind his glasses.
"How's my princess?" He asked gently holding out his arms to her. She was enveloped in strong, protective arms and pressed into his robes. She could smell parchment, and ink, and a hint of something. She pulled back and frowned at him when a memory flashed into her head.
"You've been smoking!" She accused her high girlish voice full of righteous anger. He grinned at her.
"Well, I was worried. When I worry, I tend to smoke." He said. "Your mother didn't yell at me for it."