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Old April 20th, 2012, 2:13 am
Maelody  Female.gif Maelody is offline
First Year
 
Join Date: 19th November 2010
Location: Ravenclaw Common Room
Age: 28
Posts: 67
Re: A Thousand Years

~~~

“Don't stand, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me!” - Don't Stand So Close to Me: Sting

Chapter Four
Don't Stand So Close to Me

~~~

The Ministry of Magic is a magnificent place. It is even more magnificent than the time I saw it when I was seven and my father brought me to work. It was just the one time, and he didn't exactly want to do it in the first place, but mum thought it would be a wonderful idea. I had a blast nonetheless, even if it was a total bore. I was at that age where impressing my father was all that mattered.

Now the Ministry is incredibly busy with people running around frantically in search for someone they don't even know. Paper airplanes are whizzing about, and one goes over my head as I navigate my way through the crowds of people. Usually I would be jinxing people left and right and ordering them to get out of my way, but as of right now, I do not have a wand. Neville, even though I told him I would be returning to work today, was adamant about keeping my wand from me until Dr. Nesson says otherwise.

“Pansy? Pansy!” someone shouted my name from the other end of the Ministry. I looked around to see who it was and spotted a young, bushy haired woman, frantically waving her arm in the air and standing on her tiptoes. No one seemed to pay her any mind, but I lowered my head in hopes no one would connect the two of us together. “Pansy it is so nice to see you again!” Hermione Granger said as I stood right in front of her. It was easy to tell who she was because she still looked like the seventeen year old girl from Hogwarts (unfortunately). The only difference was a very prominent baby bump underneath her Ministry official robes. Who in the would knock her up?

“Hermione Granger?” I asked, a little more surprised than I should be. I never even thought that the woman on the phone last week could be the same Hermione that I knew from school.

“Actually, It is Hermione Weasley now,” Hermione beamed, looking up at me. “We'll have plenty of catching up to do later, Pansy. Now, we must get you a proper wand!” She grabbed me by the hand and began to pull me along to follow her, dodging witches and wizards as they came at us. If it weren't for the fact that she said I would be getting a new wand, and I have no idea where I am going, I would have pulled away from her once she reached for my hand. Though, now that I think about it, I don't think I could pull away if I tried. It may be her baby hormones, but her grip on my hand is like a mother's dragging her toddler around to make sure it doesn't get lost.

We finally reached an office that looked nearly deserted. There was dust on the windows and it looked completely black on the inside, but that didn't stop Hermione from knocking on the green, paint chipped door. Without hesitation, the door opened and Hermione smiled up at me, gesturing for me to enter first. Extremely unhappy with this decision, I obliged anyway. As soon as I walked in, the once dark office room lit up with dim candle lights.

“There's normally never any use for this office,” Hermione piped from behind me. She seemed to be looking around for something before she spotted a dusty old chest in the corner. The room wasn't that big, and no one else was in here to keep charge of it.

“It looks abandoned to me,” I snarled, not bothering to ask what it was she was looking for.

“I guess you could say that,” Hermione's muffled voice replied while she stood on her tiptoes to reach in to the very bottom of the chest. From where I'm standing, the chest is barely a foot tall, but I assumed it must be enchanted since half of Hermione's upper body was inside of it. “We really just come in here for situations like this.”

“What do you mean situations like this?” I asked, glaring at her from behind. I knew exactly what she meant.

“Oh, Pansy, don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about. Found it!” she slid out of the chest and planted her feet on the ground, holding up a very beat up stick. “This is your new wand!” She dusted it off and held it out for me to take. When I didn't, she nudged it closer in my direction. “Go on! Try a spell!”

I took the wand out and inspected it, wondering if it could actually produce any magic after Salazar knows how long it has been locked up inside that chest. “Accio parchment.” A nearby parchment flew directly toward me and I caught it with my wand-free hand. I dropped it on the ground, not caring what the parchment said, and smirked at the wand in my hand.

“Don't get too cozy with that wand,” Hermione noted. “It is a work purpose wand only. When your shift is over, you will return the wand to me everyday before going home.”

“Excuse me? What makes you think I will take orders from a filthy little mudblood like you?” I sneered, pulling the wand away from her as if she were going to take it from me now.

“Ah, the perks of losing one's memories,” Hermoine tutted. “For starters, this mudblood is your boss, and you have to listen to me. Also, we do not allow that term around here. Memory or no memory, you can be fired in a heartbeat if anyone else hears you say that again. Now come on, I think we've wasted enough time in here.” She didn't sound nearly as cheerful as before, but she gave me a curt smile and turned on her heel. I followed behind her, assuring that we stayed at least five paces apart at all times.

“Good morning, Misse–eh– Parkinson!” said the fifth person in a row who recognised me as Hermione and I made our way to our department. They would all smile, tip their hats if they wore one, and then carry on their way once they saw me. Everyone around here knows me, but I have no clue who they are. Every once in a while Hermione would greet them and I would catch a name or two, but I had no idea who these people were.

“How are you, Mr. Berly?” Hermione asked kindly in the lift.

“Hermione, please, I insist you call me Herbert! I am absolutely dashing! I see Miss Parkinson is with us today at last! How are you, dear?” Herbert said in an all too cheerful and extremely fake voice that said he would rather be at home.

“Herbert, please, I insist you call me Pansy! I'm absolutely marvelous, you know, with having no recollection of the past ten years of my life!” I said as equally enthusiastic as Herbert. His smile disappeared and he looked forward, forgetting Hermione and I were even in the same lift.

Finally, in what could have easily been an hour since my arrival, we arrived to at the Magical Law Enforcement department. People dressed in black, uniform Ministry official robes were sitting at desks all around the department and in offices. Everyone seemed to be on one of the new commune-a-phones, speaking urgently to the party on the other line. All of the phones looked exactly like Neville's, which meant his was definitely not an ordinary Muggle telephone.

“Aren't they a wonderful idea?” Hermione asked over her shoulder, noticing my wide-eyed stares around the room. “I suggested it to Kingsly a few years back. He absolutely loved the idea!”

“Kingsly?” I asked, not aware of whom she was going on about.

“Honestly, didn't Neville fill you in with anything?” Hermione turned and stopped in front of me, almost causing me to crash right into her and take her and her very swollen stomach to the ground.

“We aren't on speaking terms right now.” I stated honestly. Since my blow up last week about having to go to court, I've barely said more than two words to him. In fact, this morning is the first time I can recall him trying to talk to me before work. I asked for my wand, he said no, and then I went on with my day.

“Really?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow and sucking on the inside of her cheek. “Well, Kingsley Shacklebolt is the Prime Minister of Magic. He, along with me, is the most important person you need to listen to. I'll introduce you a few other important people you must know, but only when the time comes. As for now, do you remember Rebecca Henley?”

An extremely short woman who looked twice my age came waddling up to me. Her hair was twisted in a tight, peppery bun, and her triangular glasses rested on top of her head. “It s'bout time yeh showed up! I've bin holdin' all yer slack!” Rebecca yelled at me with a harsh, old voice. She squinted her eyes at me and I thought she was threatening me at first, but then I realised she actually needs the glasses on top of her head.

“My partner?” I assumed, dreading the old woman already. Hermione nodded sympathetically and Rebecca opened the door to our office and stepped inside.

“Well come on then! We ain't got all day!” she squinted past me, expecting me to follow immediately.

“I'll come get you around lunch so we can catch up.” Hermione said before taking off. The last thing I wanted to do is catch up with Hermione Granger. Sorry, Weasley. Why does that name sound so familiar anyway?

“No use in standin' 'round, Parkinson. Yeh 'ave two weeks worth of work 'head of yeh.” Rebecca wheezed, hoisting herself up onto her desk.

“Now listen here, lady, I don't know if anyone has told you but–” I started, hating Rebecca already, but she interrupted me.

“Yeh did yerself in, huh? Couldn' handle yeh lit'le pathetic life anymore? Tha's too bad now ain't it? I 'ope yeh weren' lookin' for anythin' from me. Now get to work!” Rebecca set to work right away with something on her desk. She didn't look at me again, and I didn't even bother with talking back to her.

Her desk was opposite of a messy, unoccupied, black desk. There was no nameplate on it like Rebecca's. Hers had a silver plate that read 'Henley', and the letters magically flashed before it. Where is mine? What exactly did they think happened to me?

I sat at the unoccupied desk and moved papers around so there was a clear space for me to work. What do I do now? Why isn't someone training me? There is a red commune-a-phone on my desk. I thought about calling Hermione to ask exactly what I'm supposed to do, but the phone rang instead. Following my instincts from the last time I was in this situation, I picked it up and put the receiver to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked. Rebecca shot me a glare from her paperwork. I could tell she didn't approve of my unprofessional approach on the phone.

“I have a woman who needs her name cleared in a misuse of magic case. Do you have files on a Jennifer Pealwaters?” a hefty man's voice came from the other end of the phone.

“I–uh–don't know...” I replied, at a loss of what to do. I looked around my desk and noticed one file with Pealwaters written across it. Relieved, I snatched it up and looked into it. “Name: Jennifer Delaney Pealwaters. Age: 37. Wand: 11 ½ inches, maple wood, unicorn core, and slightly springy. Offence: Using a– Using a levitation charm on a Hippogriff?”

“Yes, yes, that's the one.” Said the man, sounding more than agitated with the wait. “Can you tell me exactly what year we legalised levitation spells on winged creatures?”

“What year– what?” I asked in disbelief. Is this really something one can be punished by the Ministry for?

“1932, after Helena Plies' trial for helping abused and damaged winged creatures was passed,” Rebecca snorted, never looking up once. I repeated this information to the annoying man in my ear. He hung up the phone without so much of a thank you. I hung the phone up and read Jennifer Pealwaters' folder.

She, like Helena, was helping a damaged Hippogriff learn to fly when a Muggle caught her. Now she is being trialed with a 'possibly illegal curse' as her file would say, and for practicing magic in front of a Muggle. When I closed the folder I noticed a memo was written on the other side. It was probably left for me before I left. It read:

URGENT
Forgotten law
Please check year legalised levitation laws on magical winged creatures
Have ready by Monday Morning

No wonder the man was upset. The Monday morning on the memo was meant for last Monday.

Just then, a flying airplane memo came in and collided with the side of my head. Once I untangled it from my hair and read it, I groaned.

URGENT
NAME: George Nathaniel Weise.
AGE: 15.
Wand: 10 ¾, laurel wood, Phoenix feather core, slightly springy.
SCHOOL: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
HOUSE: Ravenclaw.
OFFENCE: Using the spell: Accio.
DEFENCE: “I was only getting a soda from the kitchen!
Please send a warning letter right away.

M.O.M
Head of Magical Law Enforcement
Hermione J. Weasley

Having no idea of what to do, I looked around for some blank parchment, an envelope, and ink. Once all of my materials were present, I dipped my quill in the ink and held it over the parchment. I was at a loss of what to write. What do I tell a kid who can't even get up to get his own drink?

Dear Mister Wiese,
I know something as stupid as the Accio charm seems like it shouldn't be such a big deal for the Ministry of Magic to care about. Unfortunately, it does. So if you could please stop being such a lazy little git, and get your own drink, I would greatly appreciate it.

I had no idea on how to end it so I just signed my name and sealed the letter in the envelope. I tapped it with my wand and it sprang to life, zooming out of the office. This job is going to be a piece of cake!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Seventeen letters sent and at least a hundred phone calls later, Hermione came knocking at the office door. Rebecca already left for lunch, but I had no idea where to go, so I just stayed here.

“Well you've been everything but useful today, haven't you?” Hermione asked with a cheerful grin that gave away fake anger.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not too fond of her form of joking.

“Seventeen of your letters were rejected today,” she said while pulling seventeen letters with my handwriting out. “You cannot, no matter how tempting, call children 'Little gits'.”

I rolled my eyes in reply and began to pack up. “Rebecca hasn't absolutely been the best partner.”

“I guess she is still mad at you then?” Hermione asked, unsurprised. Was I supposed to know the answer to that?

“What did I do to her?” I asked once we left the office.

“You stole her attention,” said Hermione bluntly. “With you having no memory of the last ten years, everyone finds you absolutely intriguing.”

“I'm sorry that my mistakes seem to amuse everyone else! Its not like I want them to!” I shouted. I will definitely be talking with Rebecca about this later. “What's wrong with her anyhow?” I asked sourly once we made it to what must be the break room.

Hermione shrugged as she squatted into a seat, careful of her swollen belly. “So tell me everything!” Hermione said in such a fashion two close friends would talk to one another. Were Hermione Granger– er– Weasley and I close friends? Unbelievable! However, I am pushing Neville away, and Draco still hasn't answered his phone. I really need to talk to someone. Seeing as how there is no chance of Rebecca and I getting all chummy any time soon, Hermione would have to do. Putting back all of the fights I could remember the two of us getting into at Hogwarts, and my distaste for Potter and her redheaded friend, I told her exactly what has been happening the last week alone with Neville.

“He is unbearable! He is boring! He is unbearably boring! He took my wand away, as I suspect you already know, because he is afraid of what I will do to myself! He hasn't told me anything about my life in the last ten years except that we are best friends, and I feel like he is leaving it all up to me to figure out who I am! You know what he told me? He bloody well told me that whoever I discover I am this time around is the Pansy I am truly meant to me! Doesn't that sound like a bunch of foolishness to you? I mean honestly, how could the two of us ever be friends? I remember hating him throughout Hogwarts, and definitely at the end of it! I feel like that good for nothing Dr. Nesson and Neville are trying to trick me!” I ranted, not giving Hermione the chance to speak. If it weren't for the necessity of breathing, I would still be talking, but Hermione squeezed in before I could go on.

“Have you asked him anything?” She asked simply, putting a small hand on her very pregnant belly. She was just sitting there with a content smile on her face, drinking coffee as if her question meant nothing. I opened my mouth to retort to her question, but instead, I just let it sit there, open for all the flies to fly in. Had I asked Neville anything? I remember constantly berating questions from him and Dr. Nesson if I had any other family or friends, but other than that, I couldn't recall actually asking him anything about my life.

“No.” I said quickly, shutting my mouth and looking away. I should be upset right now, but instead I am sitting here thinking about what a whinny little girl I have been lately. Honestly Neville could have told me something without waiting for me to ask. Isn't it me who lost her memory? How should I know what to ask? Why do I have to be the one who initiates finding out who I am? Shouldn't everyone be coming to me, trying to force me to remember them? Doesn't it hurt them that I don't remember anything about them or even know who they are?

Hermione waved at a new wave of witches and wizards that came in for their break. I started to stand and get ready to go back to work, but she pulled on my robes and ordered me to sit back down.

“You're not going back in there until you're properly trained!” she said, a very skeptical smile on her face.

“What about you?” I asked dully. “Don't you have to go back to work?”

“I'm pregnant!” Hermione excused herself with a laugh. “Besides, we have a lot of catching up to do. First off, tell me anything you can remember.” She folded her arms on top of her stomach and leaned back in her chair.

I told her about the last day of the Final Battle of Hogwarts and how Neville disarmed me before I was able to hex Blaise Zabini. That was my last recollected memory, but I have figured a few things in my life out up until now. For starters, Draco Malfoy is my boyfriend, and assuming by the missing ring on my finger, we are not married or engaged. Neville and I are, or were, best friends who used to be roommates before I lost my memory. I work, obviously, at the Ministry of Magic in the Magical Law Enforcement department, working under Hermione Weasley and the newest Minster of Magic, Kingsly Shacklebolt. My office partner is Rebecca Henley, and for some reason that is way beyond me, I obliviated myself. Now I'm in search for some sort of second chance at life, whatever that means.

“Did you figure all of that out by yourself?” Hermione asked, a small frown on her face. The frown had found a place on her lips early on in my story and I almost stopped then, but decided to go on. I shook my head and Hermione leaned up in her seat and sighed. “Have you remembered anything else?”

“No!” I snapped, wondering why she was asking me practically the same question. It is like sitting here for the past ten minutes, explaining everything to her, meant absolutely nothing. Hermione had a warning look on her face and opened her mouth as though she were about to tell me off for snapping at her, but changed her mind last minute.

“Then I suppose I can set some things straight,” she sighed. I instantly perked up in my seat. “Let me fill you in first before you start asking questions. To help you believe everything I say, I will start off by letting you know that the two of us are pretty close friends. You can ask Neville, or Dr. Nesson for that matter, if you need further confirmation. You were, after all, there when my first child was born.” She rolled her eyes as if I should remember this and then waved it off. “Also, Rebecca and you used to get along. It wasn't until a couple of weeks ago when you–”

“Did myself off? That's how Rebecca put it.” I interrupted her, the temperature rising in my face as I remembered the moment from earlier.

“Obliviated yourself,” Hermione finished sternly. “I suppose it is her business to tell you why, because I don't know. As for Draco...” she began to stray from the topic but I urged her to continue. “He is a wonderful, nice man.” Her words seemed to be chosen very carefully. “Everyone changed after the war ended, Pansy. After Harry saved Draco's life–”

“Harry saved Draco?” I sounded more mortified than awed. Hermione gave me a sour look and nodded before continuing.

“After saving Draco, Voldemort's death, and Neville stopping you from hexing Blaise, we all became pretty good friends.”

“I hated the lot of you in school, though!” I decided to express my hate towards the group instead of the other way around, though I'm positive they hated me, too.

“Like I said, Neville stopped you from hexing Blaise. You two talked afterwords and the next thing I knew, he was coming up to us trying to convince us you were a changed woman. After that we moved on with our lives. Ronald Weasley and I–”

“Who?” I interrupted for the millionth time. She was starting to get a bit impatient but she went on with her story anyway.

“Ron Weasley, the ginger haired boy that was always with Harry and I.”

Now her last name made sense! She married that hideous beast? Wasn't he related to that red headed girl I hate so much?

“Ron and I married and had our first child, Rose, which you were there for her birth,” she continued once she decided I remembered who Ron was. “She is two years old, and now I'm ready for our second child. We are hoping it will be a boy this time.” She stopped to rub her belly and smile while she did so. It made me want to vomit, but in hopes for regaining a memory, I let her finish. “Harry and Ron's sister Ginny married: they have a two year old little boy named James now, too. You should see Ginny, her belly is bigger than mine!” I assumed she meant that Ginny was pregnant, too, which I hardly cared about.

“Draco became a changed man. Though, I will admit it was hard to get him to believe he didn't owe Harry in such extremities that he believed he should. However, he is a changed man nonetheless. Finally, Neville and you moved into an apartment together, living happily together until recently.” Hermione finished, looking at me carefully. Was I supposed to care about the lives of all the people I hated during school? I thought she was going to fill in the gaps missing in the last ten years of my life. The only thing that really had anything to do with my life was Draco, and even that disappointed me, having to think my boyfriend ever thought he owed Harry Potter anything. Then it hit me.

“Why was I living with Neville if Draco is my boyfriend?” I demanded, gripping the ends of my chair as tightly as I could.

“You really didn't understand any reasoning behind that story, did you?” Hermione asked stubbornly, her voice shaking as though it were close to tears.

“Of course not!” I retorted quickly. “Why would I want to know anything about those people? All I want to know about is my life!”

“We are your friends! Friends are a part of your life, Pansy!” Hermione practically shouted, causing workers to stair at us. She began to cry so she pulled out a small handkerchief to wipe away her tears. I must admit, it stunned me. The seventeen year old me isn't exactly used to having friends in her life to worry about, but I guess the twenty-seven year old me learned how to manage the acquired taste for friends in the last ten years. Is it really my job to care for all of these people, too?

“He travels a lot,” Hermione said, blowing her nose on the handkerchief.

“Who does?” I asked, the heaviness still in my voice, but I was beginning to calm down a bit more. Her pregnancy hormones were making her too sensitive for me, her friend, to deal with her.

“Draco!” she spluttered. “He travels all across Europe and you don't really have the time for it because you work here and you love it. You stay with Neville because he is the only one without a family that can take you in and the two of you are better off with one another than the rest of us anyway.” There was another loud blow into the handkerchief before Hermione wiped her tears away and looked over at me and then at her watch. “I really must be heading back to work,” she said, calmly this time. “Why don't you go home? You and Neville need to talk. I don't think I can do this anymore, Pansy. I'm so sorry. It's terrible what happened to you, but I can't handle this.” She turned around and left me there alone.

I sat there for a few moments longer, ignoring the stares from other workers. It may have been the baby hormones, but she seemed incredibly upset. What did she mean by something terrible happened to me? Did she mean it was terrible I lost the last ten years of my life because I obliviated myself? It was terrible that Neville didn't save me in time? Or was it terrible because something happened right before I obliviated myself? Deciding that I was thinking too much into it, I went back to the apartment, where Neville was waiting for me.

“You're home early,” Neville pointed out the blatantly obvious as soon as I walked in the door. He was reading an issue of The Quibbler and had a glass of pumpkin juice in his hand. This is the most magical I have seen him since I've lived here. A part of me wanted to comment on this, but the other part of me had a much more important question to ask. I have been putting a lot of thought into the last several minutes between my walk from the floo station a few blocks away to here about what I would ask him. Finally, I have decided to ask him about my life.

“I just finished talking with Hermione,” I said calmly. I have to think about what the twenty-seven year old me would be doing right now, and not the seventeen year old. Then again, it was that old twenty-seven year old who I seemed to be running from. Neville put The Quibbler down and gripped onto his pumpkin juice.

“What did you two talk about?” he asked, seemingly forcing a grin onto his face.

“Mostly about everyone but me,” I said honestly, a slight tinge of annoyance still present in my voice. “She said that I needed to talk to you.”

“What about?” a hint of nervousness rang in Neville's voice.

“Why did I do it?” I asked, giving no more detail because it wasn't necessary. He knew exactly what I was talking about. Why did I obliviate myself? The words came out as easily as that. For the last week I have not even bothered to ask him, not in any way he would answer me anyway. The lack of authority in my voice surprised him.

“Well I–uh– I don't know honestly,” he said, becoming more engaged with the conversation. “Not the full details anyway.”

“What do you know?” I encouraged, deciding that standing while listening to this piece of information would not be a good idea. The chair opposite Neville was already pulled out from the table so I chose to sit there.

“Well,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “you were really sad. For months you were moping around the house.”

“Because of Draco?” my immediate thought escaped my lips before I actually thought about it. Neville's shoulders hardened and he sat up in his seat.

“I don't know.” His voice was hard and he looked oddly uncomfortable. “Do you like the plants?” he asked, trying to change the subject. At first I wanted to get more information out of him, but making him angry would just lead to no talking. Right now, I need him to talk to me, even if the answers come slowly. Truthfully, the plants have been up since the first day of our last fight. They livened the place up somewhat, with their vivid greens and reds providing colour to the room, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

“They're alright. What about pictures?” I asked. I don't know why pictures in his apartment would really mean anything to me, but if I have been living with him for the last several years, surely one of them could jolt something in my memory.

“Why would I need pictures?” he asked, calming down slightly.

“Don't you have any friends or family?” I pushed. Twenty-seven year old me is doing an excellent job with her anger control.

“I'll see what I can do,” Neville said, his face losing colour. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, making me think he was about to be sick. “Pansy,” he said with a slight crack in his voice, “sometimes it isn't always the best to go back and remember. Sometimes when you have the chance, you should try and change things for the better.”

“What am I supposed to do, Neville? Just lie around all day, hoping something comes up to me? I would love it if it worked that way, but without something to trigger my memory, I can't remember anything!” My voice continued to rise until the very last moment where I snapped. Why is everyone trying so damn hard to keep things from me? Was I such a terrible person before that they want me to change who I am? According to Hermione, we're all extremely close friends, and Dr. Nesson made it clear that Neville and I were supposedly best friends once upon a time ago. What is it that I could have done for them not to want the old me back? “I just want some pictures up, or something, that will remind me of who I am!”

“Damnit, Pansy!” Neville slammed his fist on the table, causing his pumpkin juice to tumble over and spill its contents all over The Quibbler and me to jump. “I am trying so hard to work with you! I can't tell you everything because that isn't what you want! You may think it is, but you're much too stubborn to listen! Look at you! Even the things you are told, you don't want to believe them! Everything I do for you, it just isn't good enough! Haven't you stopped, even for a second, and realised what you have done to everyone around you?” His fists were still clenched, turning more and more white as he held them like that, but his voice started to calm down.

“Excuse me?” Venom practically poured form my mouth as I formed my words. “Have I thought about what anyone else is going through because of my actions? Shove off, Neville! That is the most selfish thing I have had anyone say to me since I've woken up! Do you think I like not knowing anything? I'm so ignorant about the past ten years of my life that I don't even bloody well know why I would ever do something like this to myself! The last thing I remember is being perfectly happy with my life! Is it because you came along? Is that it? Once you apparently came into my perfect life, you messed it up with your presence and sent me down a spiraling pit of depression? That sounds about right, doesn't it? What did I ever do to you to deserve depression, Neville? Huh?”

Neville sat there with his head down and stared at the soaked magazine before him. His fists were released, but they now gripped the edges of the table. He didn't say a word to me, and even though I should feel satisfied with shutting the him up, I didn't. I was so close to getting my answers, and now I am more than likely going to get kicked out of the house!

“I just wanted some damn pictures,” I said at last, my chest heaving with anger. I didn't realise it before, but I was standing now. Somewhere in the middle of my rant I must have stood up in the heat of the moment. I folded my arms over my chest so my breathing became less apparent, but Neville never bothered to look up at me. He scooted away from the table, leaving his mess behind, and turned his back on me.

“Stop making me hate you,” he said quietly and sternly before exiting into his room. It caught me off guard, and I wasn't sure what to do. He hated me? With the results of this last week, I would have thought the man practically worshiped me with annoyance, but I never deducted that he hated me. Rebecca Henley, she hates me, but how could Neville? What did I do to him? While I was searching for answers, Neville came back through the door, a load of picture frames in one arm, and his wand in his free hand.

Instantly, without saying a word, he began placing the pictures up with his wand. There were pictures of me, smiling and waving at cameras. The smile didn't look like the smile I have grown up with, but the girl was most definitely me. Neville was in a couple of them with me, but a majority of them were of the whole group of us: Neville, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I. All of us alleged friends were sitting at a booth, smiling, clapping each other on the backs, and gossiping in each others ear. By the looks of it, we were celebrating Hermione's promotion. Even then she was pregnant (with Rose I assume) and so was Ginny. They reminded me of those idiotic girls who were the best of friends and decided to be pregnant together and raise their children together. If it weren't for the fact their children would be related, I'm sure they would have tried setting them up together.

The only person missing from the picture was Draco. Supposedly, by Hermione's story earlier, he was a part of our close friends, too. So why wasn't he in any of the pictures? Suddenly the scenes changed. There were pictures of people that I have never seen in my life, not even in my Hogwarts years. There were a couple of images of an older woman dressed in gaudy, awful clothes. She was old and her head was clad in an overly large, bird looking hat. Whoever this woman is, I hope she isn't anyone related to me.

The next few pictures were of an average, happy looking, young couple. There was a blonde, more heavy around the middle woman, smiling and looking up at a thin, clumsy looking man who patted her shoulder and she rested a hand on his. The pictures were much older than the others with their fading colours and the old fashioned clothes the couple wore. Looking at the both of them, I saw a bit of Neville in them. They must be his parents.

“So you do have family,” I braved, my voice at a much less aggravated tone than it was earlier. He was, after all, doing as I asked.

“That's my mum and dad, Frank and Alice Longbottom.” He sounded distant, and he wasn't looking at me as he explained this. “I never really got to know the real them,” he said dismissively. I looked at him from behind his shoulder, but he didn't notice.

“What happened to them?” I asked, figuring something must have happened for him to become this sad. “Did they die or something?” Neville cringed at my lack of politeness. I'm not exactly the best conversationalist, but I didn't mean anything by it.

“No, they didn't die,” he sighed, forgiving my rudeness. “They're very much alive actually. Do you remember Bellatrix Lestrange?”

Of course I knew Lecrazy! She was Draco's aunt! The last thing I remember of her though was that mother of the ginger cult killing her off. I never really took sides in the war, I just wanted to survive, but Bellatrix sure did have her side picked out. Instead of verbalising my thoughts, I just gave a quick, “Mmm hmm,” and waited for him to continue.

“She used the Cruciatus Curse on them when I was a baby. She tortured them because Voldemort told her to. She tortured them to the point that they, even to this day, do not remember who I am, my gran, or even themselves. At least, I don't think they do. They still walk around, but their eyes are fogged over and they don't really talk. I've never once heard my parents say they love me, but I know they do. They do, even though I'm not entirely sure if they remember anything before the curse.”

“Neville,” I said hesitantly, knowing what he was getting at, “that's different. They were tortured before they lost their memory. I obliviated myself.” My voice was gentle and I laid a hand on his shoulder. It was odd behavior coming from me, and I honestly don't think I remember doing it, but I didn't pull away either. Neville looked down at his shoulder where my hand was and then shrugged it off.

“They didn't lose their memory, they lost themselves,” he said curtly. “I would give anything for them to remember me, and I know they would love to have raised their son if they could. You? You willingly took me– all of us – out of your life, and you expect us to fill pity for you.” He walked off into his room and shut the door. There was a small click from the door locking. I stood in the hallway, a few tears staining my face, as I stared at his door and then at the pictures of his parents. He was right. I am completely selfish.

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Last edited by Maelody; February 9th, 2014 at 10:23 pm.
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