Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: I thought this was lost long ago in a computer crash and happened upon it today when I was going through old zip files. It is one of my first pieces of writing and definitely one of my favorites, despite the fact that it is a tad confusing and melodramatic. I've posted it on ff.net before under a different name, but I think it's about time to take it out of retirement. Please Review!

Forget Me Not

She watched over him from the corner of the damp cell, her pale face contrasting startlingly with the dark corner she had wedged herself into. She shivered as she drew her knees up to her chest and locked her arms around them, not noticing how her wrist bones were clearly visible under the thin skin. Any minute now and he would wake up. Any minute now and then she would have to tell him. She shut her eyes tightly willing the moment not to come. Had she made the wrong decision? Maybe she should have killed him when she had the chance. She could have saved him the pain and heartache that was tearing her apart, making her wish for death. She shuddered shaking her head vigorously. No, no, no, no…she knew she couldn't have ever done that. Her love wasn't strong enough. Or, was it that her love was too strong?

She heard a soft moan and she felt her breath catch in her chest. She looked up to see him stirring slightly. He moved as if to get up and she was by his side instantly. "Don't move too quickly, you've got a nasty knot on the back of your head," she said quietly.

He winced as her words rang true. He looked at her with eyes that would stay with her from now to eternity. "Where are we?"

"We're prisoners." She said softly as she helped him lean up against the wall.

His eyes grew wide, the way they had so many times as a boy, "Of who?"

"The Dark Lord."

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord," she repeated, staring hard at him. Had she given him too much?

His face wrinkled in concentration. "I-I don't know who that is," he said at length looking up at her.

She stood up quickly as understanding flooded through her. "You mean you don't remember…"

"Remember, what?" he asked his face blank and innocent.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she kneeled beside him once again. "Do you know who I am?"

He opened his mouth as if to answer and then his confusion deepened. "No," he said finally. "Who are you?"

Her face changed instantly from one that was unsure to one that was completely lacking emotion. It was almost as if she had put on some kind of mask, only her sad eyes remained the same. "My name is Ginny."

"Ginny," he repeated, unable to draw his eyes away from hers. "I feel like I should know you."

"You do." She said taking his hand.

"Why can't I remember?"

"They must have performed a very powerful memory spell while torturing you."

"Torturing me? But why? What information would I have?"

She laughed bitterly, the harsh sound startling him. "They didn't torture you for information. They did it because they could. He told them to make an example out of you."

"Why me?"

"Because you are a traitor."

"To the Dark Lord?"

"Yes," she whispered fighting back the tears that threatened to overcome her.

He seemed to think on this a while as he stared hard at the stone floor beneath them. Finally, he looked at her, "Why are you here?"

She took a deep breath, "Well, I'm a traitor, too."

"What did you do?"

"I broke his heart."

"You?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip as she struggled to keep her grasp on her self-control. "He's never forgiven me for it. Never forgiven us."

"Us?" he asked his eyes searching for answers.

She looked up and nodded as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "My husband and I."

"Where is he?" he whispered, leaning closer to her. "Where is your husband?"

"They took him from me. They took everything," she breathed as the tears now fell in quick succession.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ginny."

"I loved him so much. " He wiped away her tears with his forefinger, his eyes seeming to see right through to the soul of her. She turned away from him, hastily wiping away the tears with her filthy robe. She jumped at the sound of keys jangling and looked expectantly at the steel door. He was by her side instantly, and they watched as a small box about 3x5 inches located halfway up the door, was slid aside and yellow eyes peeked through at them.

"No, screaming today, eh?" said a nervous little voice. "Did it work, then?"

"Yes," she said hastily. "Yes, thank you, Winky."

"I have bad news for you. Today is the day, miss. It's to be carried out before Midnight."

Her mouth went dry with fear so that all she could do was nod numbly. "Winky must go now." Said the voice shaking slightly, "The Dark Lord calls. I will not be forgetting you, miss. I will not forget." Then the door was slammed shut and they were surrounded in darkness again.

"Today is the day?"

"For our execution."

He looked at her a long time, and when he spoke it was so quiet she almost couldn't hear him. "Tell me about my life. It doesn't seem fair that I don't remember what I'm losing."

She smiled weakly at him. "What do you want to know?"

"Was I married? Did I have a family?"

She took a deep breath, "Yes."

"Tell me about my wife," he whispered.

"People said she was smart and took things too seriously," she started off slowly. "But when she was around you, she was a nervous wreck, and no one made her laugh as much as you did."

"Did?"

"She told me once…" she said ignoring him, or perhaps not hearing. "She told me once that she loved you so much it hurt. But that if she had to choose between hurting and not knowing that kind of love, she would choose pain over ignorance, any day."

"What was her name?"

She didn't answer him.

"What was her name?"

"Hermione."

"Hermione," he whispered. "How long were we married?"

"Eight years."

"Did we have any children?'

"A boy," she said her voice cracking. "Henry."

"What happened to them?"

"Don't…" she said turning from him and pressing the palms of her hands up against her closed eyes.

"Ginny, what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Ginny, please."

"No."

"The Dark Lord…did he?"

"Don't!" she screamed.

"He killed them." He said flatly, "He killed them, didn't he?"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" she screamed turning on him and hitting him in the chest wildly. He pulled her tight, pinning her arms against his chest, as she sobbed uncontrollably.

'I'm sorry." He whispered at last. "I'm sorry."

She lay exhausted against him, unable to cry anymore, unable to feel anymore. "Did your husband know that you loved him?"

She looked up at him. "I hope so."

"I don't think he was afraid of dying, then."

"You don't?"

"No, I think the only men afraid of dying are those that don't know that there are things in this life worth dying for. Things like a woman's love."

"Are you afraid?"

"No. I was loved, there is nothing more that one can ask for out of life."

"You are loved." She said touching his face lightly. " I love you."

"I love you."

She sat up as the door was swung open and two dark figures entered the room. She hastily removed a locket that hung around her neck and pressed it into his hand. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be easier if you didn't know. I thought you would want ignorance…I didn't know how to say Goodbye. I love you!"

Then she bent down and kissed him on the lips before the guards grabbed her by the arms and carried her from the room. He shuddered as he stared at the cold door and heard the footsteps die away. He gripped the locket so tightly that the point of the heart drew blood from his palm.

He opened the locket and saw Ginny and himself standing side by side with a young red-headed boy between them. He had his hand on the shoulder of the boy that looked like a miniature version of him. They had the same fiery red hair, the same untamed freckles and shared same boyish grin. His other hand was wrapped around Ginny's waist. She looked beautiful as she smiled broadly, white flowers gracing her curly brown hair. He went to close the locket but the picture fell out. He picked up the tiny piece of the picture and went to put it back in the locket when he noticed writing on the back. What he read there made his hands tremble.

Hermione, Ron and Henry. Summer 2008.