Author's note: As you can see, 'two days or so' actually means 'two hours or so'. Not that I'm complaining. I'm glad I finished it so soon.
Anyway. This is the actual story; I'd recommend reading it first and then passing to Back to the Beginning. It's probably too late for that, though. Also, sorry for the lame title.
The (part of) poem which you can see in the beginning is from the amazing Don Juan by Lord Byron.
Just like usual, feedback is much appreciated. Enjoy!
She ceased, and turn'd upon her pillow; pale
She lay, her dark eyes flashing through their tears,
Like skies that rain and lighten; as a veil,
Waved and o'ershading her wan cheek, appears
Her streaming hair; the black curls strive, but fail,
To hide the glossy shoulder, which uprears
Its snow through all; - her soft lips lie apart,
And louder than her breathing beats her heart.
Charlus had never thought that he would – at some point in his life – need to sneak into a girl's room at night, especially in a house like the Black manor, which was altogether too difficult to break in.
But here he was, doing exactly that, sneaking inside Dorea Black's chambers. He landed soundlessly on the floor in her room, but she heard him nevertheless.
"Charlus," she whispered, shifting in her bed. He could see that she had been crying, but she still looked as perfect as ever – her dark curls were falling down her back and shining on the moonlight coming from the window. Dorea's dark brown eyes weren't red from the tears, but they were sparkling and her lower lip was still trembling slightly. Sitting in front of him like that, in her white nightgown, Dorea looked as if she was made of pure moonlight. "Charlus, what are you doing?"
He saw blush rising in her cheeks as she covered herself with her blanket – Charlus reminded himself that it was December, after all, and she was probably freezing.
"I had to see you," he murmured and made himself comfortable, sitting on the chair near her desk. "Since your parents won't let me even go near you anymore…"
"And that's surely my fault," Dorea cut him off, voice icy. "What did you expect, Charlus? They saw me with you, down in the Muggle village, when I should have been with Percival in London! You convinced me to come with you. It's entirely your fault and you know it perfectly well!"
Anger filled him once again when she mentioned Percival Lestrange; her current suitor and the only person in the world that Charlus truly couldn't stand.
"Well, I don't like seeing you with another man, Dorea, and I think that you should be a little more understanding." His voice was neutral, not giving up the emotions that currently overwhelmed him on the inside.
Dorea laughed – a rude, mocking sound, and sat up in her bed. "You are no man, Charlus," she informed him heatedly. "You are nothing but a jealous boy."
Charlus simple couldn't believe it.
He knew that Dorea loved him. It was the one thing he had never doubted. That was the exact reason why she'd been crying for hours back at school; because her parents wanted to make her marry Percival. She hated – despised – Percival Lestrange as much as Charlus himself did.
"Well, I hope that Lestrange is enough of a man, for you, then," Charlus replied, smiling bitterly at her. "He's what, twenty-three-years-old? That means he's six years older than you." Dorea and Charlus were both seventeen now; they were currently in their Christmas holiday.
"If you're implying that he sees me as a child…"
"Oh, he definitely doesn't!" Charlus had raised his voice without even realizing it. "I would say the exact opposite, really… Have you not seen how he looks at you?"
"He looks at me as a man should look at his fiancée!" Dorea was really angry now and Charlus saw tears in her dark eyes once again. "And this is not a concern of yours!"
"So you would just let that idiot…"
"Percival's not an idiot!
"You're right," Charlus sighed. "He only looks like an idiot. Apparently. Because if he actually was an idiot, he wouldn't be the one to win your heart."
"I… what?" Dorea sounded rather confused now, but the boy ignored her.
"I suppose you were crying for him, then?" Charlus was on the verge of shouting again. "When I walked in just a few minutes ago. You were crying because you wouldn't be able to see him until tomorrow?"
Echoing silence fell in the room, because Dorea didn't say anything. When Charlus looked back at her again, he saw that she was trembling and silent tears were streaming down her pale cheeks.
"No," she replied at last, tone gentler than it had been. "No, it was not for him."
Charles knew that he should stay angry at her. She had mocked him for loving her, and yet he could not stop himself from climbing on her bed and wrapping his arms around her.
"Relax, love, it will be all right," he whispered. Whenever he was around her, Charlus was feeling this strange urge to be as romantic as the men in the books his mother was reading. "Don't worry, I'll find a way out of this. I was way too cruel. I know that you don't want to get married either. I'm sorry, Dorea."
Dorea didn't say anything; she just laid back on her bed, taking Charlus with her and curling in his embrace.
Soon she fell asleep; the boy heard her breathing become calmer and steadier. He sighed. As much as he wanted it, he knew that he wouldn't be able to stay here with her for the rest of the night. Dorea's parents would find him, because Charlus knew that if he was to fall asleep here, he wouldn't wake up until 9 o'clock in the morning.
So he tried to sneak out of her bed without waking her up – a pretty tough mission, considering how much of a light sleeper Dorea was – and sat on the chair near her desk, staring at the girl with a small, sad smile.
He took out his wand from his pocket and took a deep breath, trying to get ready for what he was about to do. It wouldn't be easy. Mostly for him, though; if everything went as he wanted it to, Dorea wouldn't have to hurt anymore. Hopefully, never again.
He had planned this from months, ever since Dorea had informed him about her impending marriage to Percival Lestrange. Charlus knew that she hated the man, but that definitely didn't mean that her life with him wouldn't be even more miserable if she loved Charlus in the same time. It would be altogether better for everyone involved if she didn't have any memory of her relationship with him at all.
Charlus stood up from the chair, approaching the girl sleeping in her bed. She was smiling slightly in her sleep, as if she could feel that he was near. As if she didn't know that it was for the last time.
After he had made his decision, Charlus had read almost any books he could find about this kind of spells. He knew that he had to be very careful, because if he got anything wrong, the damage on her mind could be permanent. He had to remove exactly what he wanted to.
He closed his eyes and imagined it all – things that he would never forget; moments he had spent with Dorea during the hot summer nights out in the town near the Black manor. The little moments in school when they sneaked out of the castle just to get a bit of time for themselves. The cold winter days when they stood out in the courtyard in Hogwarts… Charlus remembered every little detail – the blinding snow and the way Dorea's skin was nearly the colour of the nature around them, while her hair and eyes contrasted so sharply with it all.
He recalled even the last weeks; so full of worry and fear and tension because of her engagement. It had darkened the world around him a bit, but Dorea had still been enough to lighten it up every time he saw her – her smile, the glint in her eyes when she laughed, her warm hand in his – it had all made him feel better. It had made him believe that somehow, they would be able to make everything right, just like they had always wished too.
All of those hopes rushed into his mind as he prepared himself to erase it all from hers. Just the thought that the next time he saw her, she would just look through him as if he was not even there made his heart skip a beat. And for the first time when it came to her, it wasn't a pleasant sensation.
Charlus pointed the wand at her.
"Obliviate."