HP/SS, character death, post-Hogwarts, rated M (18+) for male-male sexual content. Non-canon past late DH, plus Snape!lives.
Disclaimer: Rights to Harry Potter & Universe belong to JK Rowling & WB; no copyright infringement is intended or implied.
A/N: BAM! Done! Chapters have been proofed and edited and will be updated, but the rest of the story will be posted in chunks. But it's done! You're welcome. :)
OBLIVION
"May I help you, sir?" The non-descript receptionist looked up at the patron standing at the check-in desk.
"Yes," the young man replied. "I have something I wish to forget."
"Of course," the receptionist gave a bland smile and handed the man a clipboard. "Please fill out the information sheets."
The man took the clipboard to one of the industrially upholstered chairs in the unwelcoming waiting room and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. He poised the clipboard on his leg and began to read the forms, quickly checking boxes off here and there, and making necessary explanations where required. He signed the last page with a flourish and made his way back up to the counter, clipboard and completed papers in hand.
"I've finished," he handed the documents and the pen back to the receptionist.
She took them from him and took the papers off the clipboard, placing them in queue in a metal document holder. "Someone will be with you shortly to take you back for a consultation."
"Thank you," he responded, and headed back to the uncomfortable chair.
The minutes ticked by as he passed the time counting dots on the ceiling, the frays in the carpet, and the hairs on the back of his hands. Both of them.
"Mr. Potter?" A light voice called from the door leading back to the patient rooms.
Harry stood, smoothed his hands down his trousers, and made his way over to the woman standing in the doorway.
"If you'll follow me, please, we'll be heading into room three," she gestured in front of her and to the left, guiding him into a room not far down the hall. "Please," she waved her arm at the chair on the far side of the room. "Have a seat."
This chair was far more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room, and it gave Harry a feeling like he thought he might have if he were in a Muggle psychiatrist's office, getting ready to spill his feelings to the person across from him.
"My name is Hermione Granger, and I'll be doing your intake consultation today," she reached out her hand to shake Harry's, and then sat down in the opposing armchair. "I've looked over your paperwork, and I have a basic idea of what your situation is, but I'd appreciate it if you could tell me in your own words why you've come to us today."
"I – I have someone I wish to forget."
"Someone?" Hermione emphasized the person-related ending.
"Yes," Harry continued, looking uncomfortable for a moment, then plowing ahead. "I was recently in a relationship. It wasn't working out. We split."
"Pardon my being insensitive, Mr. Potter, but people break up all the time. Why do you feel the need to resort to such drastic measures for this particular person?"
"Our involvement was quite serious. We had plans to be bonded. The separation," Harry stopped short. "I'm not sure I can heal on my own," he finished.
"How long were you together?" Hermione asked.
"Two years," he answered solemnly.
"And how long has it been since the relationship ended?" she asked him, looking down at his forms.
"Over a year."
Hermione's head snapped up. Her face conveyed her surprise; she clearly had expected a shorter time frame.
"Like I said," Harry said dryly, "I've tried to move on; I've reached the end of my rope. Drastic is all I have left to try."
"Is she," Hermione began.
"He," Harry interrupted her.
"He?" she raised her eyebrows slightly.
"Yes. I was in a relationship with another man. He."
Hermione stared at him for a brief moment before looking down and making a note on his paperwork.
"How did you become aware of our services?" she asked him.
"I was referred by someone I know," he answered.
She frowned slightly. "Was this reference one of our clients?"
"No," he clarified. "Someone who was familiar with your work and thought I might be able to benefit from your treatments."
"How familiar are you with exactly what our treatments entail?"
"Familiar enough," his lips pressed into a thin line.
She regarded him steadily, her pen pressed against her lips.
"I know how an Obliviate curse works, Ms. Granger."
"It's a bit more complicated than that," she shifted forward with the air of wanting to launch into a lecture.
"Which is why I haven't simply asked one of my friends to do it to me," he very nearly rolled his eyes.
"It's quite important that our clients understand the serious differences between a simple Obliviate curse, or the use of a Pensieve, and our procedures."
"I can assure, you, I am well aware," he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back. "And I can say with the utmost confidence that this is something I will never, ever, want to have undone."
Her eyes flickered down to his paperwork, seeming to read one of his notations regarding one of the survey questions.
"The whole reason I came to your office was because this procedure is permanent."
She looked back up at him. "People often think they want to forget something – or someone – but that turns out not to be the case."
Harry uncrossed his arms and gripped the dark leather arms of the chair, leaning forward in what he tried to not make a menacing way. "Believe me, Ms. Granger; I want nothing more than to forget I ever knew this person even existed."
Seeming placated, Hermione settled back in her chair, crossing her legs. "Very well, Mr. Potter," she acquiesced. "Why don't you tell me your side of the story?"
Harry began at the beginning, telling Hermione how he met his partner, how they came to know each other at first. He led her through how they met, how they courted each other, the slow build to the serious relationship they had both desired. He was honest when he said things hadn't been perfect – they were very different people; many of their friends wondered how they managed to be happy together. He described the beginning of their relationship: going out together, making their relationship publicly known, moving in together, travelling together, the spontaneity that a new relationship brings.
"It wasn't just one thing," Harry finally came to the fracturing point in the story. "It wasn't something I said one day or something he said that – that broke us. It was…we both made such bad choices. Bad choices. I don't know how we didn't see how bad they were at the time. It should have been obvious to both of us that we were hurting each other. It was like we wanted to hurt each other. The pain," his voice broke. "The pain was so deep." A tear escaped his watering eyes and rolled down his cheek. He swiped it away brusquely. "It's like we forgot we ever loved each other. We couldn't…we couldn't find the love anymore. I don't know where it went."
Harry put his head down in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He sat like that for a while, and then Hermione cleared her throat.
"Sorry," he raised his face back up and leaned back in the chair to continue. "He was – I loved him. I planned to spend the rest of my life with him. He was my life; I wanted him to be my life. Now that we're…it's like everything I see reminds me of him. Everything I touch, everything I smell, every taste, every sound. It's like his essence is just woven into the air I breathe. I try to escape, but my memory of him is like a cloud that suffocates me when I try to catch my breath."
He wondered if he was imagining the misting in her eyes.
"I honestly," he kept going. "I honestly believe that I will never be able to love anyone else ever again. I want," he shook his head. "I need to be able to forget him. I need it to be like he was never there."
"You realize the length of your relationship will make the treatment very difficult."
"Like I said," Harry gave her a rueful grin. "I'm not asking one of my mates to just wave a wand at me."
"Very well," she conceded, and opened a drawer in the desk next to her armchair, pulling a thick packet out and handing it over to Harry. "You'll need to familiarize yourself with the information in our waiver. Once you've read it and signed it, bring it back and we can schedule you for the procedure."
"Can't I stay and fill it out here?" Harry was disappointed.
"I'm afraid not," she said, standing and opening the door for him. "I think you'll find it will take quite a while to read through all the legalities and liabilities. It's important you have a thorough understanding of the risks the procedure entails. It would be irresponsible of us to rush you through it."
Harry nodded reticently. He, too, rose from his armchair and followed her out of the office, taking the packet from her.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," she said, extending her hand again to shake goodbye. Harry took her hand and let her open the waiting room door for him, and he left the office with the hope that -soon, he could start putting his life back together.