Memories
He woke, slightly confused. Silently he looked around the room in which he slept. The walls were painted a light green, the carpet beige, and his linins all cream, except for the dark blue comforter that was wrapped around his sweating body.
In one corner by the window, a desk cluttered with papers had a strange contraption with a screen sitting on top of it. On the same wall, but the other end, a sliding door stood open showing a full closet. Directly in the corner to the right by the closet, another door was closed. To the right of that wall was the wall that the bed was against. Next to his bed was the door to his bathroom.
The floor was clean, though there were clothes stacked in piles in the closet. He couldn't quite see into the bathroom, seeing as the light was out, but it seemed to be clean.
He yawned, his arms stretching out above his body, and his legs straightened out before him. Under the sheet he could see his toes curling with his body. A sudden noise at the formerly closed door startled him.
A ginger topped woman walked in the room smiling at him.
"Good morning Harry." Slowly she walked to him, almost apprehensively. In her hands she carried a tray with a cup, a bowl, and a spoon. Her white starch dress fit her snugly, and matched her white tennis shoes and little white cap.
"Are you very hungry this morning Harry?" The way she spoke to him, and her manner as she walked closer to his bed, bothered him. His eyes shifted side to side as if looking for the quickest route out of the room.
"Oh Harry. Please do be good this morning. I know you don't want me to call them in." Her words caused a panic in him, and his body tensed, but held still.
"Lets just eat our breakfast, and then maybe later you can go down and paint." For some reason her suggestion calmed him, and peacefully he accepted the breakfast and ate under her watchful eye.
After breakfast, she sent him into the bathroom with a pair of clothes she had picked out of the closet, and bade him to dress quickly, and then they could go. He rushed into the bathroom and changed quickly, rushing back out without brushing his hair or teeth, since she had forgotten to mention it to him.
Gently she reminded him and sent him back in, though brushing his unruly black hair did little good.
Once finished, the little woman in the white dress led him down the hall, down a set of winding stairs, and into a wide, bright room filled with covered canvases and paint supplies.
"Here you are Harry. Now I know that you don't like to have anyone in here with you as you paint, so I will be down the hall ok. I'll be back with lunch later. She turned and left the room, closing the door in front of a very bewildered man.
O.O
"Okay, Madeline, I've got Harry set up in his study." The ginger headed woman entered a room down the hall from where she had just dropped her patient off and sighed.
"How was he this morning, Gin?" Madeline, a short black haired woman, asked from her position on the couch.
Ginny Weasley, a healer in St. Mungo's trauma department, was a care giver for long term trauma patients. Her friend Madeline Burnnet was a healer-in-training for the department. Sighing again, Ginny dropped down on a chair nearby her friend.
"Lost. He was quiet and scared, and looked like a lost little boy. He did everything I told him, and nothing I didn't. I threatened to get the buys when he looked as though he was gonna sprint, but he calmed down later when I mentioned painting."
"I swear, he never wants anyone around when he paints. Do you even know what he paints in there all day?"
"Yeah." A pained expression crossed her features. "He paints memories from when we all went to school."
"But I thought he lost all his memories. If he doesn't even remember you or Ron, and you're around him all day, then how does he remember something from so long ago?" A confused look graced her face and her head tilted sideways in bewilderment.
"I don't know." The words came softly, spoken in a hurt and confused manner. Her eyes were closed, her knees bent under her chin. Almost unnoticeably, her body shook as tears welled up in her eyes.
Madeline bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She knew what was wrong, everyone knew what it was. Why the brilliant Ginevra Weasley wasted her time with someone everyone knows won't ever recover. She was madly in love with the crazy Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world.
Sure, everyone in their right minds would give their right legs for the position to be so close to Harry Potter, but Ginny took it to the extreme. She didn't just stay in the healer's quarters downstairs, she lived there. She had changed her address, and received all her mail there. She never went out, and always took charge of him when he had one of his terrible nightmares. She could never seem to bring herself to give over control to someone else, she couldn't take a break.
Once, after one of Mr. Potter's nightmares, she had broken down and cried to Madeline. She told her exactly why she spent all her time at the mansion taking care of Harry Potter. She has been in love with him since she was ten, the year she met him going to Hogwarts. It had been 14 years now that she has loved him, and it was obvious that she wasn't going to stop any time soon.
What Madeline didn't understand quite so well, was why Ginny wasted all her time loving a man who was obviously crazy, and had been for five years already? She constantly hurt seeing him like this, and Madeline thought that it was high time that she got over him.
"Okay then." Ginny stood and broke Madeline out of her reverie. "I shall go down to the kitchens and check on lunch. Want to make sure that cook is making something good for Harry today." Her smile was bright and fake as she rushed out the door. The sitting woman only frowned as her friend swept down the hallways.
O.O
It was late, more than a couple hours after curfew for Mr. Potter, so she knew everyone would be in bed asleep, trying to rest up in case he had trouble sleeping again this night. Silently she strode down the hallway in a black cape that covered her entire body.
She finally had gotten the courage to do something that most of the staff had wanted to do, go see the paintings that Mr. Potter spent all day painting, but never let anyone see.
Her body stopped in alarm in front of the open door of the study, worried that she had been caught. But no one called out, or pushed her away, so noiselessly she stuck her head in the room, her mouth opening in shock.
All the canvases were uncovered. There were over a hundred, hooked on the wall, laying on the floor, most finished, but more than a couple undone. But the most shocking was the shaking figure standing in the middle of the room looking at all the paintings and crying.
The hidden witch could just make out the ginger hair on the crying woman. She was staring at one of the unfinished paintings and mumbling curses at the content, which caught the witch's attention immediately. It was of a woman, with curly brunette hair, and chocolate eyes, that seemed almost to twinkle with mirth. Her smile was bright, and looked as though it was pointed at a lover. There was no background, or it was merely not done yet.
Her eyes caught another painting of this woman, only this time her brows were nit with worry, her mouth turned down in a frown. Her hair was tucked behind one ear, and she seemed to be listening carefully.
As she looked around all the pictures were of this same woman, laughing gaily in one, crying in another. In a couple she was studying intently a stack of books that were as thick as tax manuals. A few showed a far off picture of her figure standing on a hill, or over a cliff, her long brown hair blowing crazily in the wind.
One picture caught her attention and she blushed madly as she looked at it. The woman's head was thrown back in the throws of passion, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a moan. Her hair was splayed out around her on the pillow, and she could almost she the top swell of her breast.
As her eyes shifted, she noticed that all the pictures in that corner were of the woman with that particular scene in mind. One actually showed her rose colored nipples, and another was centered on her midriff without showing any above her ribs, though she could see a start of brown hair at the bottom.
She looked back at the woman standing in the middle of the room crying. She had picked up a random picture and was shaking it in anger.
"WHY?" Her sobs ran into her words and made her difficult to understand. "WHY? You're bloody DEAD! Why can't you leave us alone! You stole him from me all the way through school, and now that you're dead, YOU STILL WON'T LEAVE US ALONE! FUCK!" And again she was crying, great choking sobs that shook her body and made her cough. She was startled as the woman pulled out a long shiny knife and held it above her in the air.
"Just Fucking DIE!" Viciously she ripped into the canvas with the knife, tearing the cloth down the middle of the brunette's smiling face. Again and again she attacked it with her knife, screaming every time. Finally spent, she dropped the knife, and bent over crying above the decimated canvas, hugging it tightly to her body.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Mia'. I'm so sorry…" She was rocking back and forth as the hidden woman decided that she really needed to leave. As she turned and hurried down the hall, she couldn't help but wonder just who the mystery woman was, who was Mia'?
O.O
In her attempt to satisfy her curiosity, she got copies of all the news papers of those three years of the war, the books that gave the full story of the war, and the long list of obituaries from the war. Madeline sat in the library surrounded by her research materials, hoping to find out who this mysterious woman was that claimed Mr. Potter's heart from the grave.
But she couldn't seem to find a woman named Mia that went to school with Mr. Potter. It was over a weak after the incident, and she was almost ready to give up. The day after that night Ginny had come out smiling, tired, but smiling. It almost seemed as though what had happened had made her feel better, relieved some of her stress.
But Madeline was getting frustrated. She sat back in her chair and sighed, running her hand through her short black hair. Her healer cap was sitting on the table next to her. Her eyes gazed across the table at the stacks of papers, and stopped in astonishment at a picture on top of the news papers. It was that woman, standing between Mr. Potter and his friend Ron Weasley.
Her body snapped forward as she grabbed up the paper and read the caption under the picture. "Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley, the year they graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Known as the Golden Trio by every one in school, the three enjoy their last days as students before graduating and beginning the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
Her jaw dropped open. Off course that was who it was, Mia wasn't her name, it was a nickname. Really, why wouldn't Mr. Potter be obsessed with his dead best friend? With new encouragement, she shifted through her materials and placed everything about Hermione Granger in one pile, and everything without her in another. It was a decidedly one-sided pile.
Hermione Granger was mentioned in about everything that Harry Potter was; she was the brains of the trio and always came up the ideas. The other two thirds of the Trio were almost as famous as Harry Potter. There were numerous pictures of the Trio, and more than a few pictures of just Hermione Granger.
Zealously Madeline read over the articles about Hermione Granger. As one of Mr. Potter's best friends, she helped him with everything. In one, it told the story of how she stood up to Lucius Malfoy and told him off. Of course she got thrown out of the fight rather quick, but Mr. Potter would have been unable to finish that battle with Mr. Malfoy without her help.
Finally she reached an article on Ms. Granger's death. Evidently she threw herself into the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and got shot by a deadly Dark Magic curse. She died there in Mr. Potter's arms right before the end of the Last Battle. It was then that Mr. Potter went crazy and attacked He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and killed him, losing his mind to the last Dark Magic curse sent by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
'But something just doesn't seem right.' Madeline mused, her head cocked sideways in thought. 'There seems to be more to the story. I know there must be more; why else would Ginny be so upset.'
As she noticed the time and soon conclusion of her lunch break, she packed away her books and tidied the room behind her. 'I'll find out the rest of the story.'
O.O
It was late, Mr. Potter had already been put to the bed, and the tired Healers were having a cup of tea before they headed to bed themselves. Madeline watched Ginny sip her tea in peace, lazing against the couch with a sigh of contentment. 'This is the time,' she thought to herself, 'To ask Ginny about Mr. Potter.'
"Hey Ginny, I have a favor to ask."
"Uh huh."
"Well, you knew Mr. Potter in school, right? From what I heard you knew him pretty good, right? Well, will you tell me some personal things about him, some things that only his friends new, from back in school."
Ginny nodded, took another sip of her tea, and prepared herself to speak.
"Well, He was really shy. No one would think it, but he was. Comes from being raised by that muggle family of his. Horrid people they were. Never gave him enough food, he was always picked on. Well, I met him first at Platform 9 ¾, where he was getting ready for his first day of school…"
And she went on to tell the story, so well known, but added here and there, little anecdotes that few knew, and told secrets that everyone but the Golden Trio were privy to. She mentioned his two year long crush on Cho Chang, and showed quite a bit of satisfaction that it ended.
"So, did Mr. Potter ever fall in love for good?" Madeline tried to cover her face with an innocent expression, but Ginny wasn't looking anyway.
"Yeah." Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible. Her face was tilted down, but Madeline could see the sadness overcome her features.
"There was this old friend of ours; he really liked her a lot. They were only dating for a couple years before she died."
"Well, how did she die?"
Ginny's lip quivered. "She sacrificed herself. Harry was up against him, that very last battle and he tried to attack Harry. But she… she threw herself right in front of him, and got hit with that curse. I was there, her body got all rigid, but her arms and legs were flailing around. Harry was crying, and trying to hold her body still enough to try and help her.
"They were planning on getting married. Right after the war, they were planning on running off to France or something, go elope and spend some free time away from all the problems. But she died. Right there on that last day of the battle. Threw herself right in front of that curse, and got herself killed.
"Harry went crazy. No one really remembers all that happened that day. But I do, I remember everything as if I dream it every night. His face turned red, and his body was shaking. He almost dropped his wand. Then He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named shot some crazy Dark Magic curse at him, but he just shook it off like a butterfly had hit him or something.
"Bang bang, shooting sparks all over the place. The field lit up like Bonfire Night. Everything was so hazy, but I remember He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hissing and withering, thrashing around on the ground, his red eyes glowing brighter and brighter until they consumed his body. He burnt up on the field, and Harry passed out."
The room was quiet other than the breathing of the two women. Ginny had paused in her narration, chewing on her bottom lip in thought.
"Harry woke up almost two weeks later, and didn't remember who I was. He was crying and calling out for her. They had to stun him, over and over again for almost a week. Finally he woke and had this simple look on his face, like oh, hello, fancy meeting you here, what's your name again? It broke my heart." Ginny shook her head and smiled wanly at her companion.
"I suppose, I'd better head off to bed. Good night Madeline." Madeline sat there on the couch quietly as her friend took off for bed.
O.O
Harry Potter lay silently on his bed waiting for his nurse to fall asleep. He knew they thought he was crazy, and maybe he was. Maybe he was crazy for wanting to get away from all that stress that was his life. Maybe he was.
But he didn't think so. In fact, laying there in his bed at three in the morning that Tuesday, the fifth anniversary of the end of the war and his life, he felt remarkably sane. He felt almost happy; finally he had enough of his memories back to remind him of why he no longer wanted to live in this world. All he really wanted to do was go and marry his lovely 'Mia. That's all he wanted to do. That's all he would do. With a smile and a wink he called for her, his lovely 'Mia.
O.O
Eight o'clock Tuesday morning dawn cold, gray, and windy. The entire house seemed quiet and solemn. Noise only rose because of a maid's sharp scream from the back yard where she was pruning the roses.
The household staff ran outside and froze in shock of the sight of their beloved master's body stiff on the ground covered in dew. Above them, his balcony doors were open, and the drapes whipping in the wind.
Cold blood was stiff in a puddle around his left hand, and when someone finally had the courage to pick it up, they saw the shallow gash across his palm and the bottom of his ring finger. Madeline, in shock from the recent events, thought it prudent to get Ginny out of the house before she had to witness the sight.
Tearing her gaze away, she hurried into the house and up the stairs. Her hands fumbled as she turned the handle. A feeling of dread overcame her, and made her pause before entering the room.
With a shriek she slammed the door closed and ran back down to the authorities that were just arriving in the front.
"She's… she's d… dead! Her face was white as a ghost, and her body was shaking violently. One auror wrapped his arms around her body and tried to calm her enough to speak coherently.
"Ma'am, I need you to calm down enough to answer our questions. Who is dead?"
"G… Ginny Weasley!"
More than a few people gasped in shock. They were upset enough that Harry Potter had died, but also Ginny Weasley? The situation was certainly getting suspicious, and it definitely caught the attention of the head auror, Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt.
In an effort to control the situation and stem ensuing panic, Shacklebolt sent most of the household staff back inside to carry on with their normal schedule, though why beds needed to be made and breakfast cooked, he wasn't quite sure as of that moment. Finally surrounded by silence, he looked at the case.
Harry potter was found dead outside his bedroom window, which was three stories up. It was obvious that the fall had killed him, though there was a cut on his left palm. Ginny Weasley was found dead on the floor of her bedroom, slashes deep in her arms, her body and floor covered in her blood.
'It doesn't make any sense,' he thought, shaking his head. Musing silently, his hand rubbing his chin, he walked through the house inspecting all the rooms. He bade the Healer-in-Training Madeline Burnnet to follow him, and once he reached a locked door on the second floor, asked her to unlock it. Looking a bit nervous, the little woman stepped forward to do as was asked of her.
Slowly she unlocked the door using a big brass key, which Shacklebolt didn't really understand, seeing as she could use magic and all. She pushed the door open, though the well oiled hinges didn't make a sound. Confused, he looked around the room at all the covered canvases that littered the walls and floor.
"You'll understand in a moment Mr. Shacklebolt. He didn't like anyone to see what he was always painting." His jaw dropped in astonishment at the multiple pictures of Hermione Granger across the room. He had known that Harry and Hermione had planned to wed, but really.
"No one really understands. He loved her soo much. And she loved him to, enough to throw herself in the way of the curse that killed her so that he might live. But he didn't know that someone else loved him just as much. She really did, but she just couldn't compete with the perfect woman, dead or not. It just doesn't work."
She cocked her head at the head auror, a frown playing on her face. Her hands nervously patted down her white skirt as his mind processed what she had said.
"Well, I'm certainly sorry for all their loss. I think that no one will be happy to hear of this double suicide. Come on, let's head downstairs and go file the report." Madeline nodded sadly and let herself be led quietly out of the room.
Sitting next to the door, his last portrait of Hermione sat staring after the couple as they walked down the stairs. Her features showed a quality of serene tranquility as she smiled benevolently under her husband's bloody kiss.
A.N.
I'm so sorry about taking so long. But if someone noticed, I posted a note on my page saying how sorry I am. I've tried and tried to write, I really have. But with school, my boyfriend never letting me near a computer long enough to write for things other than homework, and someone constantly DELETING my things, I've not been able to update anything.
I had written two new chapters for both of my stories, and two new one shots, but halfway through, someone deleted them, and then claimed that they didn't know what they were. Trust me; no one is as mad as me.
But I shall try. I promise. Or you can cut off my finger, or take away all my snacks. :(
Bru-Chan