A/N: I've been remiss of late to post anything of great substance. I've been working on several chapter fics, each muse coming and going as it pleases. I'm not done with any of them, and I like to be at least mostly done before I begin posting, just in case I can't finish it or it takes a super long time to do so. I apologize for the delay (if any of you even care anymore at this point). Well, this one-shot was inspired by my lovely boyfriend. Whenever we say 'I love you', I always say 'don't ever forget!', he claims he won't, but I have this innate fear that he will. Well, sorry for the rant! Onward, then...
It was only one hour and six minutes into their sixth date. Hermione smiled happily at the man across the table from her as he regaled her with another tale of how he and his brother had caused all kinds of mischief back in their Hogwarts days. She laughed, a tinkling laugh that gave him chills, at all of the appropriate places. It always made him smile to tell the beautiful witch, one that he almost over-looked, of the things him and Fred had gotten up to. In fact, if it hadn't been for Fred, he may still not have noticed her, him having set them up on a blind date exactly four months ago to the day. As completely unexpected as it was, George Weasley was falling in love with Hermione Granger.
It was later that night, as he was dropping her off at the Burrow, where she was staying, that he'd kissed her. It wasn't their first kiss, mind, but it was quite explosive. He knew he couldn't be the only seeing the fireworks behind the heated battle of tongues. Hermione pulled away breathless, reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes, a habit she'd acquired that he found he quite liked. In a moment that took her breath away and made her head spin, he declared his love for her. She grinned and said: 'that's a good thing, then, as I love you as well.' They kissed again, this time much slower and languid. She followed her admission with a demand: 'don't ever forget it." He laughed, kissing her again, this time he walked away, leaving her standing on the front porch of his childhood home.
The first time she said she loved him, she made him promise never to forget. He just laughed and asked how that was even possible. She smiled and leaned up to meet his lips for a kiss. Of course it wasn't possible, true love could never be forgotten.
Fifteen years down the road, they were putting their first child onto the Hogwarts Express. Tears coursed down his wife's cheeks as George held her slender body against his side, waving until the train was out of sight. He had the utmost confidence that his son would give him a run for his money during his years at the magical school. His wife shared his opinion, but instead of embracing it, she was dreading it. She hated to see her little boy all grown up and old enough to go off to school, but that was the way of the world. After the train pulled around the bend in the track, she heaved a great sigh and declared that they should return home with their twin daughters who were over with Harry and Ginny Potter's two youngest children. The Potter's second son was to start with the twins the following year. That would be interesting.
Later that night, as she laid cuddled in her husband's arms, she was thinking about how quiet their home would be in a year. In just a year, everything would be so different: all of their children would be off to Hogwarts, and she would feel so old. She moved around restlessly, causing George to stir from whatever dreamland he'd found himself in. He sighed and turned to face his wife. He looked deep into her eyes and told her he loved her. She smiled reluctantly and repeated the words back to him, adding a quick 'and don't ever forget'. She settled down and went to sleep, loving the feeling that his words left in her heart.
As the years went by, they got married, had three beautiful children, and were truly happy together. Still though, every once in awhile when they'd say 'I love you', she would follow up with the words 'don't ever forget'. It was just a constant thing that always made the couple smile, and love to shine through their eyes.
Exactly one hundred and four years into their blissful marriage, George stood from the chair he was sitting in, only to look around at their home like he'd never seen it before. He looked very confused for a few moments, even turning to her at one point and seeming confused by her presence. He didn't acknowledge her as he walked around the house, muttering about this and that. He made a comment about how he didn't remember the Burrow looking like this before he and Fred left for their first year of Hogwarts. Hermione sat in the silence of the room he'd just vacated, and sobbed as silently as she could. It hurt that her own husband could forget her so suddenly. It crossed her mind that it could have all been a spell, or some sort of trick, but she knew that was not the case.
Later that same day, she was still sitting in the parlor, a book open, but not reading a bit of it. George finally came back into the room, and sat right back down in the chair across from her as if he'd just stepped out for a moment. She watched him as stealthily as she could, but couldn't stop the quiet 'I love you' from slipping past her lips. George heard her and immediately answered back with the same smile he always wore for her. She couldn't stop the 'don't you ever forget' that naturally followed their declaration. He just grinned back at her and answered with 'how could I?' the same as always. For some reason, this hurt her.
The first time he looked at her like a stranger, she held in the tears until she could be alone to let them fall. Later that day, she looked at him from across the room and murmured a quiet 'I love you'. He managed to hear her, and turned to look at her. He didn't hesitate to say it back. She automatically followed the sweet declaration with 'don't you ever forget'. He completely missed the pain in her eyes as the comfortable phrase tumbled out of her mouth.
It had been just periodic for the first two or three years, then the disease had taken more of his mind, more of his memories. Now, he didn't know who the woman who took care of him was. He seemed to remember that she was supposed to be there, taking care of him, but he could never figure out who she was for sure. She always knew just what he needed, even before he did most of the time. He was happy with the arrangement, never over-thinking the woman who was always there in his life. She would help him up in the mornings, see to each of his meals, go for walks with him sometimes in the afternoons, entertain visitors that came to see him, even if didn't know who they were, would help him to bed, and start all over the next morning. She rarely ever spoke to him, choosing instead to just watch. He was fine with this; he wouldn't know what to say to her anyway.
The twins came over with their husbands one day, still always doing things together. They pulled their silent mother out into the kitchen for a few moments while their husbands entertained their father. They went on and on about how their daddy didn't know them anymore, and it was getting to be too hard to make these visits, as infrequently as they did. Eventually, they stopped coming altogether. Hermione was alone most of the time now. Yes, George was always there physically, but he was never aware that he was here, there, or anywhere. He didn't hear her when she did talk, so she most often avoided the pointless activity. She would occasionally whisper a quiet 'I love you' , for her ears only. She was never sure if he did hear and refused to tell the stranger in his house that he loved her back, or if his hearing was going as well. It was only late at night, after she was sure he was sleeping, that she would let the tears fall. She mourned the loss of her husband, having loved him for much longer than she didn't.
Several years later, he had no clue who she was. She walked around as if in a trance, always quietly doing everything that she could for him. He would complain about this or that, she would fix it. He wouldn't complain about anything, and she would still do whatever she could to make him smile. He hardly smiled at all anymore. Then again, neither did she. Every now and then she would quietly whisper to herself that she loved him. He never heard, or refused to answer. She wasn't sure which; and it didn't matter. He didn't recognize his own children either. They would always bemoan the loss of their father's mind to their mother, never once recognizing the pain in her eyes, or the unshed tears that lingered there. She was just always a constant to everyone; that hadn't always been the case though. Once, long ago, she'd had a man who was completely in love with her and would have done anything to make her happy. She had been happy then, deliriously happy. She never once gave up on the man that her husband had become, though. She always cherished him, and cried in secret; up until the very end.
The cold wind blew all around as a lone woman stood out in the snow. She had long, curly, dark hair, and only upon closer inspection would one notice it was actually gray. She stood at the back of a large cemetery, visible only to those with magic running through their veins. She had on a dark red peacoat and matching cap, although she wouldn't have been able to tell you what she was wearing. She couldn't see much through the tears she'd been allowing to fall. It didn't help that the wind was blowing the snowfall into her face, coating her eyelashes with the fluffy, white substance. It was December twenty-third. George didn't even make it until that Christmas. Two days, and he would have. It wasn't as if he would have known what day it was anyway.
The words on her husband's headstone seemed to be taunting her: 'I love you. Don't ever forget.' Who would have been so cruel? Surely they would have known what the words would do to her. She'd said those exact words to her husband hundreds of times over the years, and yet here they sat, causing her even more grief at her husband's passing. Hermione Weasley loved her husband with everything she had. It had always been her greatest fear that he would forget about her, leaving her completely alone in the world. As fate would have it, she spent the last eleven years with her husband, watching him slowly forget her little by little, until their was nothing of her left within his moth-eaten mind.
It was snowing out, the day they placed him in the ground. Almost Christmas, actually. She was the last one to walk away, knowing that to walk away would be the end. Silent tears ran down her face, mixing with the snowflakes that were sticking to her lashes. She stared at the words on the grave stone, wondering who'd had those particular words carved forever into the stone: 'I love you. Don't ever forget.' It seemed as if fate's cruel mistress got in one last dig with that one. One hundred and fifteen years together with the same man, and he forgot them all. It hurt somewhere deep inside the old woman with dark, gray, curling hair. There she stood, looking at the grave of one George Weasley, wondering where her life had gone.
It was exactly five days later, the twenty-eighth, that Hermione lay in bed. She'd only been able to lay in the bed that she'd shared with George for over one hundred years for the past several days. Prior to that, it had been ten years since she'd laid in that bed. It had been George's bed. Hermione was completely out of tears. She'd cried for three days, and she'd not been able to cry since. She missed her husband, but he'd been long gone before his body finally passed. It wasn't as if she hadn't been mourning the loss since that very first time that he'd forgotten who she was. The memory of that day still haunted her on a daily basis. She was currently remembering their wedding day. There had been so many people, so much dancing, so much food, so much laughter. The day was filled with love. Not once did anyone say or do anything to make someone else upset, it was truly the perfect wedding day. She'd always looked back on the day and smiled, knowing that that day was only the beginning of a perfect life. Well, near-perfect. Up until the end at least.
Her heart beat, strong and steady as it was, slowed down. Her breathing slowed, evening out. She drifted off to sleep, knowing that she'd see her husband in her dreams. These dreams weren't like her normal ones though. This time, when she'd fallen asleep, she'd passed painlessly into the realm of the dead. Her husband stood there, in all his wedding finery, looking as he did that day so many years ago. A quick glance down at herself and she noticed that her own modest, off-white wedding gown was draped beautifully across her body. She smiled up at George, recognizing the love in his eyes for what it was, no longer remembering any of the pain of the last decade. He leaned in for a kiss, she happily obliged. 'I love you, Hermione Weasley.' 'I love you, George Weasley, and don't you ever forget it!' The tinkling laugh that followed echoed out across the vast expanse of land, ringing out for all to hear.
Later that same week, right before the New Year, Hermione Weasley, nee Granger, slipped peacefully into the welcoming arms of death. She'd been waiting a long time to go into the next world, it was finally her time. She'd wanted to stay for her husband, so sick that he was. She no longer had anything tying her to the Earth, and she joined her husband, both looked the same as the day they'd married one hundred and fifteen years prior. They smiled, took one another's hand without hesitation, and in a ghostly voice they declared their love for one another, that had spanned across all that time. Her tinkling answer of 'don't ever forget' rang out through the heavens, alerting the other heavenly bodies to the presence of the new arrivals.
A/N: To all and sundry who have ever read or reviewed any of my work, thank-you and I appreciate each and every one of you. You are what keeps me writing. Don't forget to leave a review!
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