Hey! This is for you guys who have read my story "What They Forgot."
If you haven't you probably should go do that! Spoilers ;)
Enjoy!
What They Remember
She was here again. She was warming up her chai tea for the third or fourth time that morning.
Did she even sleep? She couldn't remember. All she remembered was his words, "I miss you Ollie."
How could he say that to her? After everything... He chose Hermione. She felt her self slipping again.
She took up smoking again; she doesn't remember when though.
If Neville found out he would be so disappointed-he was the reason she quit in the first place.
That's what he was great for. Making her feel good about herself, cheering her up, and making her forget.
Who she was, who she was related too, and how Ron treated her.
She had been meaning to owl her husband, she hadn't replied to his last three letters
and was surprised he hadn't floo in yet. She was sure he was worried.
She threw the letter she had been writing to him in the garbage and started rewriting for the third time she thinks.
Again, she can't remember. Everything was blurring together. She lit up her tenth cigarette since whenever she last woke up,
not that she remembers when she last woke up. She was trying to decide to tell him about what Ron said at the platform or not.
She should, she should give a reason for what she might do.
"Dear Neville,
I took up smoking again.
I'm sorry. I saw Ron.
It wasn't easier like you said it would be.
He told me he missed me. I lied and said I didn't.
You know how much I do. His children are gorgeous.
Not that I care about having kids.
You know it's never bothered me that we can't.
My body probably couldn't handle it anyway,
too many years of stress on these bones you know."
She set her quill down and realized what she had to do, realized she was just hurting the poor man.
Poor Neville, he knew it was Ron; it always was. She picked up her quill again.
"I'm sorry it was Ron. I'm sorry it was always him.
I should've have given you more, but I couldn't and I wish I could've.
I'm sorry for that and what I am going to do, but you deserve better.
I'm letting you go. I love you, but not like him. You always knew that and I know it's killing you.
Sincerely, the girl you loved regardless that she loved another,
Olivia"
She put her quill down and put the letter in an envelope and sent the owl on it's way.
She pulled out the second piece of paper and scrawled on it in messy handwriting:
"I lied."
She didn't remember making that potion last week. She barely even remembered last week.
All the long sleepless nights blurred together. Her chai was cold again,
but there was no point in warming it up. She wouldn't finish it. She picked up the potion and swirled it's contents.
She didn't remember drinking it. In fact, the last thing she remembered was feeling completely at peace and swearing she saw a flash of red hair in her loft.
Ron didn't know why he came here or why the door was unlocked, but he was here.
He had to tell her he was leaving Hermione, that he should've chosen her,
and that he couldn't see the rest of his life in Hermione's eyes like he could in hers.
He remembers seeing her figure slumped on the floor. He didn't remember beginning to cry,
but the tears wouldn't stop now. His face was pale as he repeated, 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry I didn't choose sooner' like an ancient mantra.
As though if he said it enough she would be okay. He read 'I lied' on the paper next to her, and he knew what it meant.
He didn't remember tearing the paper in half, nor writing: "I should've chosen her." Yet, there the note was on the floor next to them.
He knew which potion she made, and he knew what it would do. He didn't remember ever thinking he couldn't live without her,
but he was well aware of the burn of the potion going down his throat.
All he remembered was feeling peace, a white light, freckled olive skin, fingers entwined in his, and the words:
"I forgive you."