The memories were painful.
The kind of painful that was like a blow in the stomach, or a kind that made her want to curl up and sleep forever.
But the memories; they were the only thing she had left of him. He was gone, long gone, and... he wasn't coming back. He only came back late at night, in her nightmares, and she'd see him fall all over again. The pain would refresh and renew, and she'd hurt all over again.
You would think because the war was over, she could sleep. The war had finished, with them both surviving.
The Daily Prophet had listed him as just another 'post-war casualty' in the obituaries - a mention, no elaboration.
That angered her, because if he wasn't anything, he wasn't casual. Like something to be forgotten.
She likes to go back.
It had been a long day at the office. Her coworkers were absolute idiots, and she couldn't wait to get home. Oliver was taking her out tonight - a surprise, he said - and she couldn't wait to have him cheer her up after her god-awful day at work.
To make her day even better, it was raining, too. She trudged through the pouring rain to her designated Apparation spot, twisting, disappearing, and reappearing in her bedroom at her parents' place.
Ridding herself of her wet robes, Katie changed into a light blue, casual one with a soft jumper and skirt underneath.
"Mum," she called, "Dad! I'm home!"
She entered the kitchen to be faced with something she hadn't expected.
"Isn't he a dear?" her mother exclaimed. Oliver grinned at her from his post in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes by hand.
"I - when did you get here?" Katie asked.
"About an hour ago - I was a bit excited about taking you out, I suppose," he laughed, continuing the dishes. "Your parents invited me in."
Her mother casted him a grateful look. "Oh, he's wonderful! He's already done the laundry, and cleaned the living room! The best part is, I didn't even have to ask."
"He's not your housekeeper, Mum," Katie laughed.
"I don't mind, Kate," he insisted. "Your mother is a delight to talk to."
"Oh, you're so sweet. Go, now!" She shooed them both playfully towards the door. "I hear you have a date to go on!"
Katie's father chose this moment to appear in the hall. "And remember, Oliver, if she ever hurts you... let us know." With a subtle wink, her father disappeared back into the sitting room.
"Wow," said Katie, amazed, "you've really won them over, haven't you?"
It was after that incident - only their third date - that Oliver often stopped by early and chatted with her parents. By the time they had been together for about a month, her mother was already hinting about marriage. More than a bit early, but her mother always had the best intentions.
It was about this time, too, that they had their first argument. In hindsight, Katie knew she overreacted. Her accusations weren't in line at all. Maybe he overreacted about it, too - but she didn't blame him. It started because of her, a rather rude comment that ended in a harsh row which caused them not to speak for days.
It was the worst thing in the world to go to bed with him still angry at her. It would probably be better than going to bed without him at all, however.
"When are you not out with your friends?" she asked, rather distantly. She sat down on the park bench.
He stopped in his tracks. "I don't go out with anyone except for you often, Katie. Only Lee and George, and sometimes that's a stretch."
She raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything.
"Do you not believe me?"
"No, I believe you," said Katie, but her protest was halfheartedly at best.
"Was it because I went out when you wanted me to stay home and do nothing with you? I hadn't seen George in over a month, and that bloke is driving himself mad without company! I can't be with you all the time."
Looking back on it, the argument was petty and unnecessary. She had overreacted as did he, and as soon as she went home to her brand new flat, completely alone, she couldn't help but feeling guilty. She had messed up everything, hadn't she? She was too clingy, too needy. He probably wouldn't want to see her anymore, after what she had said.
Although a bit of anger at him lingered - really, he shouldn't have gone out when she asked him to stay in. All she really needed was a bit of comfort.
After a few days of moping around her flat, she had eventually gotten up and wrote him a letter, apologizing. Katie had pinned the fault on herself, telling him she was too needy, and if he didn't want to see her anymore, she'd completely understand - what she had said to him was out of line and she knew it.
What had surprised her the most was the response she had gotten back.
Dear Katie,
We're going to need to sort things out, okay? This is an extremely bad way of saying it for the first time, but I love you. And I don't want to ruin something so wonderful with you.
And I'll agree that what you said was out of line, but I'm not finished. What I said was out of line, too. You just needed someone, and I understand. It was a bit of a prick move on my part - your cousin was in St. Mungo's, and you were worried. I shouldn't have walked out on you - but you probably shouldn't have gotten mad at me for cheering up George. He's been a mess - you know.
So I guess I needed to apologize, too.
Love, Oliver.
P.S. - how about that date, soon? I don't quite fancy moping around my flat.
He had brought her out, and they had talked longer than ever before. She knew it was hard for him to admit he was wrong - he was a very stubborn person, she'd learned - and he must have had to screw up a lot of courage to apologize, both in written words and in real life. And as much as she tried sometimes, Katie wasn't the type to keep grudges.
He had invited her over for a nightcap, and she accepted.
"Pumpkin or peppermint? Sorry, that's all I have," he laughed.
"Really? No English Breakfast?" Katie teased. "I'll have a peppermint, then."
He reached up to the top shelf, riding up his t-shirt slightly and revealing a stretch of tanned flesh.
Settled into the sofa with warm tea in her hand, she snuggled close to him, and he wound an arm around her. It was silly, she though, but she loved the way he smelled. Like cinnamon and pine trees - fresh and spicy, an odd combination. Oliver leaned over and kissed her nose.
She retaliated by capturing him on the lips. He never failed to make her feel like an inexperienced schoolgirl - the way her palms would get all sweaty and electricity would shoot down her spine. And as nervous (seriously, shouldn't she be over this?) as she felt, she never wanted it to stop.
He cupped her cheek, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. Very gently, as if she was going to break. Katie placed her mug on the coffee table and twisted so they were in a more comfortable position. She winded her arms around Oliver's neck.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Even now, that night brought a slight smile to her lips. That night was full of love and promises for the future, of what they were and what they wanted to be and what they could be.
When she woke up the next morning, curled to his side with one of his arms wrapped around her waist, bringing her flush against him, she hadn't felt happier. She wanted to capture this moment, freeze frame it, because she just felt so happy and she wanted to preserve the feeling. There wasn't anything that could compare to it.
It was then that their relationship became more serious. She slept over more often than not, and while they were going faster, maybe too fast, Katie really didn't want to slow down. Hell, at that point she'd say yes if he asked her to marry him tomorrow.
Days, weeks, months, went past and they were still as happy as ever. It was a year and six months post-war, and everything was just falling back into place. It was wonderful, it really was.
"Would you," Oliver asked nervously, twisting around in the sheets to face her, "would you, you know, ah - would you marry me if I asked? I'm not, I was just... you know, wondering."
She gave him a baffled stare, and Oliver quickly backed himself up.
"Er, not any time soon. But sometime in the future, but, er, there's no pressure, you know, we've only been together for nine months, I wasn't - "
"You're silly," Katie laughed, "Of course I would. Why would you be so nervous about it?"
"It's a pretty nervewracking subject," he admitted.
She leaned closer to him.
It was New Year's Eve, and they had gone out together with a bunch of friends.
"Don't lose me in the crowd," she remembered him saying. "I want you to be my millennium kiss."
And just as he said, she had stayed by his side.
"Nine!" The crowd counted loudly, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alicia stumbling drunkely towards Lee, who was struggling to stay on his feet.
"Eight!" She caught his hand in hers, and smiled up at him.
"Seven!" He returned that smile, twirling her around so that she was facing him.
"Six! Five! Four!"
"Three! Two! One!"
"Happy New Year's," he murmured, before capturing her in a deep kiss she could feel from her feet to the tip of her head.
After that night - in which they both proceeded to drink a little too much with Alicia and Lee and regret it in the morning - they had settled into a very comfortable routine. They had moved into his flat - it was a little sad to see her flat go, but seeing him every night after a long, stressful day of work was worth it.
Shortly after they had moved in with each other, they celebrated their one-year anniversary with a surprise trip - on her part, she had no idea about it - to France. They had giggled at the non-moving portraits at the Louvre, and stood under the Eiffel Tower while she laughed at his very bad imitation of a French accent, causing them to get a few looks from the locals.
Two months later, he went out. This was't a big deal, usually.
This time, it was.
"Be back by midnight, Oliver."
"Yes, Mum," he said sarcastically, kissing her cheek. "See you later, love."
"See you," she said, returning to the kitchen to make herself a nightcap before bed as he Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron.
She was awoken later that night. Katie must've only gotten about an hour of sleep before Alicia had apparated hysterically into their flat, barging into her bedroom and awaking Katie. She was as white as a ghost, and her eyes seemed misty. Katie could tell her friend was trying to hold it together.
"Alicia, what's wrong?"
"It's the Leaky Cauldron... just happened an hour ago, Kate... it's Oliver and Lee..."
A week later, she was donning a black dress and bruises from packing everything up.
Their flat - her flat, now... was empty. Empty and lonely, but still stained with him and her and everything they'd done. She had slept at Alicia's - if you could consider nightmares so violent she thrashed sleeping.
She tried to look at him, she really tried.
All she saw was memories.
a/n - for the Ultimate Shipping Competition. A plot bunny I've had in my head. Credit due to one of my friends, whom which this is loosely based off of.