Summer of Enchantment
by Warviben
Summary: Harry is not dealing well with Sirius' death. Professor McGonagall is concerned enough about his mental health to approach the Headmaster. A surprising solution is proposed.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the basic premise of this story. I am making no money from this endeavor.
Warnings: This story contains detailed heterosexual liaisons. If that disturbs you, please stop reading now.
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21 Surrender
Harry hadn't seen Sera in three days, the longest period by far he'd been without her since they'd met early in the summer, and he was suffering from something very much like withdrawal. He hadn't been able to eat much, he was snapping at his friends, he couldn't concentrate on anything, and he was barely sleeping and when he did it was punctuated by nightmares. He was trying very hard to stay away from Sera, figuring that a clean break would be easier than seeing her and pretending he had only feelings of friendship for her, until maybe it became less difficult to control. His ultimate goal was that he would have only feelings of friendship for her, but right now, the missing and the longing were filling him up. He was also having difficulty containing lascivious thoughts that seemed to be torturing him almost every moment of the day. He began to think something was wrong with him. Why couldn't he control himself, he wondered. This couldn't possibly be normal, could it?
When he found himself outside Sera's door, arm raised about to knock, he knew he shouldn't be here and that he was a lost cause. He debated with himself for a full two minutes, and finally his better angel won out and he was not going to knock and he was going to just walk away, when the door opened, surprising him. A blonde girl, a Gryffindor first-year from the looks of her, seemed just as surprised to see him standing there, and she ducked under his upraised arm and scurried down the hall.
Sera looked up and saw him, and when she smiled brightly, the devil took over again. "Are you coming in?" she asked, curious why he was just standing there.
"I really shouldn't," he said. "If I do, I'm going to do something entirely unfair to you. Maybe I should just stay out here." The force of his wanting her was trying to pull him into the room, but he was resisting with everything he had. "I probably shouldn't even have come here."
Sera knew what he meant. She'd been struggling with the same feelings he had, and as she stepped closer to the door, the pull became stronger the nearer she got.
"Well, you could just come in and have some tea, like any friend would," she invited. Her voice was low and sultry. Or maybe he just imagined that.
"I could, theoretically, do that," Harry agreed. Theory and reality were going to come crashing together, he knew, and he wondered which would end up being stronger. He thought he knew. Still he didn't move.
"So . . . are you going to?" Sera asked.
"I'm not sure."
"Well, let me know when you figure it out." Sera walked away from him, toward the kitchen, exaggerating the swing of her hips. That he was not imagining. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she wasn't going to allow herself to regret it. She'd missed Harry too much. Couldn't they just enjoy casual sex, between friends, without it having to mean something more significant, like that they loved each other? These were the lies she told herself, the lies she needed to believe to keep from falling apart completely. She knew if he followed her in, he was hers. If he walked away – well, he was a better man than she was.
When she heard his steps cross the threshold and the door close, she allowed herself a small smile. There was only one way this visit was going to end.
She prepared his cup of tea with the water that was still hot from her previous visitor, one of Professor McGonagall's timid first-years who had been here for a couple of hours, just hanging out. She'd made coffee while the girl was here, so she poured herself a cup and added cream and sugar. She'd never get used to all this tea drinking the British did. Thank God Uncle had provided her with a coffemaker.
She brought the tea into the living room and handed the cup to Harry. "Careful. It's . . . hot," she said, emphasizing the last word and driving the point home with her smoky stare.
Harry nearly dropped the cup, and he hastily set it down on the coffee table. Was she purposely making it difficult for him to stay away from her?
"What are all these boxes?" he asked, noticing that several file boxes cluttered her small living room.
She passed him on her way to the sofa, deliberately letting her breasts brush against his arm. Harry drew in a sharp breath at the contact and closed his eyes, then remembered he needed to breath, and he exhaled, opening his eyes.
"School records," she said.
"What?" Harry asked. His focus and his hearing seemed to be muddled by the potent aura of sensuality that seemed to be oozing out of her every pore.
"School records. Dumbledore stopped in a couple of days ago. He asked a bunch of questions about the computer. When I explained that one of the functions it performs is assistance with record-keeping, he was most interested, and I offered to computerize some of the older school records. He had these boxes delivered this morning."
Harry had stopped listening at the word "computer". While she was explaining the presence of the boxes, Sera had stuck her index finger into her coffee and was stirring it around. After each sentence, she inserted the finger into her mouth and sucked the coffee from it, her eyes never leaving Harry's. He heard himself whimper like a whipped puppy, and the wicked smile she gave him told him she knew exactly how much further she needed to push to get him where she so obviously wanted him to go.
Sera set her cup down and approached the boxes. "I think there's stuff about my uncle and your father when they were students here." She bent over the boxes, giving him a wondrous view of her backside, including the hot pink thong which was peeking out of the top of her tight jeans. Against his will, Harry's mind went back to the time when they were living in the cottage and he had taken her from behind on the kitchen table. He nearly lost himself where he stood at this memory, and he closed his eyes and took ten deep breaths, counting them out, before he trusted himself to open his eyes again.
When he did, Sera was no longer in front of him. He whirled around, as though afraid (or hoping?) that she was going to pounce on him. She was now standing by the bedroom door. What was she doing there? he wondered. They stared at each other across the room. Suddenly, with one swift movement, Sera tugged her shirt off over her head. Harry closed his eyes again. If he didn't look at her, he could resist. Unfortunately for his resolve, the image of her was burned onto the inside of his eyelids, and closing his eyes hadn't made the least bit of difference. When he opened them again, she was no longer there. He knew where she'd gone, and he knew if he took one step toward the bedroom door, he was a goner. But as though he were a marionette being controlled by an unseen puppeteer, he took that one step, then another, until he was inside her bedroom.
She was waiting for him between the sheets. He shed his clothes as he crossed to the bed, and he slid in next to her without touching her, waiting, telling himself uselessly that it was not too late, that they hadn't crossed any lines that couldn't be re-crossed, that he could still leave. He knew better, but it all sounded very compelling inside his head. When she rolled up on top of him, everything left his head and every emotion he'd been feeling for the last three days headed south. He wanted her now more than he ever had, and he couldn't wait any more.
"No," she said, holding him off. "There's something you need to know first. I don't love you," she lied. "This is just sex."
"I feel the same way," he said, then her mouth was on his and he was inside her and life was worth living again.
It was over quickly. She'd forced him too high too fast, and he couldn't hold out, and he was sorry because he'd wanted it to go on forever. When the fevered passion drained away, he was left with guilt that he'd used her. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Why?" she asked, resting her chin on her fist on his chest. She still lay on top of him.
"Because I shouldn't have come here. I knew this would happen."
"Did you see me objecting?"
"No," he admitted. "But I should be able to control myself. You're all I've been thinking about for the past three days."
"Me, too. Well, you, I mean," she corrected.
"But we decided . . ."
"We decided to be friends," she interrupted. "And I'm working on coming to terms with that. But here's my dilemma: I like sex. I'm not ashamed to admit that. And why should I stop having it just because we've decided to be friends? Or maybe I should just open the door and grab the first guy that goes by every time the urge hits? I like having sex with you, and I'd rather do it with you. You know we're good together. Is that so wrong?"
Harry wanted to shout, "YES!" because sex without the emotional attachment seemed . . . vulgar somehow. Instead, he said, slowly, "I think it is . . . for me."
"Are you saying I'm easy?"
"No," he said quickly. This conversation had the potential to go downhill fast. "I just don't want you to settle for sex with me, with no attachment, when you could have everything if you just wait for the right guy."
"I thought that was you," she said quietly.
"Sera . . ."
"I know. 'Let's not go over that again.'," she grumped. "That's not what I meant. I meant, I thought you were the right guy. How am I supposed to know who is, if it's not you? You had all the earmarks of Mr. Right. I even had you trained just the way I liked," she teased. "I really don't want to break in someone new. That's all this is about."
"But here's the problem," Harry pointed out. "I can't keep doing this and not fall back in love with you. Because, of course, right now I don't love you, right?"
"Agreed."
"So there's my dilemma."
"How do you plan to solve it?" she asked. She wasn't going to help him. She was perfectly willing for him to share her bed whenever he wanted to, no strings attached, because dammit she really did like having sex with him, everything else aside. And she knew him well enough to know that if he came to her again, it would be because he had real feelings for her, because he wasn't the type of guy to use her for sex and nothing else. And when they boiled away all of the nonsense, she hadn't stopped loving him, didn't want to stop loving him, and had no intention of ever trying to stop loving him. She'd gone along with his plan because he seemed to think it was what he needed, but she had no intention of making it easy for him, though she wasn't planning any active warfare. If she was patient, he would come to her on his own, she was sure of it.
Surprising her with the sudden move, Harry flipped them over so he was on top now. "I don't know," he said, and he kissed her. "But I can't keep doing this. I'll lose my mind."
"So we're not fighting?"
"No, we're not fighting."
"Too bad. We could have had make-up sex."
Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You are incorrigible. And I have to go." He looked down at her. "I can't come back. Not like this. I think I may have to stay away completely for a while, to get you out of my blood. Because I can't see you and not feel like . . . wanting to do this again."
"Well, anytime you let that emotion get away from you, you know where to find me," she offered. She reached up to kiss him, and he let her, but only for a moment. "I really have to go. Quidditch practice. I'm probably already late."
"So go then," she said. "What are you still doing here?"
After he dressed, he crossed to the door and looked back at her.
"I really don't love you, you know?" she said.
"I know," he said quietly, and he left.
##########
The more Harry thought about what he'd done, the more guilty he felt . . . and the more he wanted to do it again. The contradictory feelings were eating him alive, and he knew if he didn't speak with someone about them soon, he was going to have a meltdown. He couldn't talk to Ron – he didn't understand the sexual component of the situation. He couldn't talk to Hermione for the same reason, and besides – she was a girl. He needed a father, or a father figure, neither of whom he had any longer. He obviously couldn't talk with Snape – Harry knew how Snape felt about his relationship with Sera. Besides, Harry's dark side doubted Snape had any more experience than Ron had with women. Who'd want to be with old Snapey, anyway? She would have had to be pretty desperate. Or blind. Or not like guys with personalities. Or a professional. Harry amused himself for a while trying to decide what kind of woman would be attracted to Snape, either now or in his younger days, before the seriousness of his problem returned. He knew he had only one real option – he'd have to talk with Dumbledore. There simply was no one else. The next time he'd seen the Headmaster, he'd asked for an opportunity to talk, and Dumbledore had invited him up for tea.
##########
"So what's on your mind, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired politely, though he had a pretty good idea what was coming.
"It's about Sera, sir," Harry started. "It turned out to be much easier to say it was over than for it to be so. I stayed away from her for three days, and it nearly killed me." Harry knew this next bit would be difficult, but if he wanted help with his problem, he'd have to get through it. He spotted a small hole in the knee of his jeans, and he studied it carefully, feeling the edges with a finger. "And then I . . . I went to her, and we . . . I couldn't . . . she was . . ."
Dumbledore put up a hand to stop him. He could guess what had happened when Harry went to her. "I don't need the details, Harry."
Harry was relieved he understood, but he still couldn't look at Dumbledore. "I can't stop thinking about her, Professor. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't concentrate. I just want . . . I just want to be with her, if you know what I mean. I don't think . . . I think I have some sort of problem."
Dumbledore smiled indulgently at Harry. "I would agree with that assessment, Harry."
"You would?" Harry looked up at him now, surprised. He had hoped that he was over-reacting.
"Yes. It's called teenaged hormones. All the males of our species go through it, some of us worse than others. You might be surprised to learn that most of your friends have been having these issues for some time now. I suspect you're arriving at this point later than others because you've had a bit more on your mind than most of your friends have, yes? But this . . . thirst you feel for Miss Mallory is perfectly normal," he assured Harry.
"I've even found myself having . . . dreams . . . about girls I consider my friends!" Harry surprised himself by confessing. He hadn't intended to get into this.
"Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked gently.
Harry nodded, ashamed. There had been one frightening, mercifully brief dream, about Hermione, in a lacy shift, straddling his lap, sucking on his fingers in a most provocative way.
"I think I'm going mad!" Harry confessed, running a hand agitatedly through his hair, making it stick up even worse than it had been. "It's all I think about! I have to stop myself ten times a day from going down to Sera's rooms and . . . and doing inappropriate things! Sometimes when I'm sitting in class, I think about her, and I . . . I can't seem to control myself, Professor!" More than once he'd had to delay leaving History of Magic (his most boring class) at the end of the lesson when his daydreams about Sera had caused a physical reaction he had no interest in displaying to others.
Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle. "What you need is a healthy dose of will power, my boy."
"Will power? Well, that means staying away from her completely, then, because when I'm around her, my resolution to be only her friend is shattered. And she doesn't help! She told me that she's willing to keep having . . . a physical relationship with me, even if we're just friends, and that just sounded so . . . wrong! But part of me was considering it, because the alternative, a life without . . . I don't think I can bear it!"
"Ahh, Harry. To be young and have such intense feelings! If you have to stay away from her in order to master your feelings, then that is what you must do," the older man advised. After a pause, he said, "There is one other thing that I could suggest."
"I'll do almost anything!" Harry sat forward in his chair, eager for anything that might help.
"I could perform a memory charm, very much like the memory charm that I was negotiated into agreeing to perform which caused you and Miss Mallory to flee."
Harry sat back again, disconcerted. "But then I wouldn't remember her at all? I'm not sure I want that. Sunny . . . means more than that."
Dumbledore understood, and he was proud of Harry once again for not taking the easy way out on that one. He could have had all of the guilt associated with that incident erased from his mind, but he had chosen not to. "Memory charms can take any form I choose to give them. I could make you forget everything, or just Miss Mallory's middle name, or just the fact that right now, today, you love her. You'd remember everything about your summer together, you'd remember the strong feelings that you had for her, you'd remember that she was your first . . . she was your first, wasn't she, Harry?"
Harry nodded quickly in acknowledgment.
"We should all remember our first." Dumbledore sat back with a dreamy smile on his face, as though he was remembering his first. Harry shuddered, and Dumbledore got back on topic. "You'd remember Sunny. Everything else would remain intact. You'd only lose the love."
"Which is what we decided was best," Harry finished. This idea had some merit, but he wanted to think about it, and he needed to talk to Sera. He couldn't do something like that without her agreeing to it, too. "Can I think it over and talk with Sera?"
"Of course you can," Dumbledore said. "The decision is yours. Just let me know how I can help, and I'll do what I can."
"Thank you, sir."
##########
"I need to talk to you," Harry told Sera when she opened the door at his knock.
"Come on in," she invited.
Harry went into the kitchen, careful not to touch her on his way by, and sat at the table, watching her warily, afraid she might try some of the tricks she'd used last time to get him into the bedroom. They'd worked so well, she might decide to have another go. He needed his mind clear for this discussion, however, so he intended to resist her no matter what she tried.
"Do you want something to drink?" she asked politely, sensing his mood and knowing that now was not the time to tease.
"No, thank you. Would you sit, please?" he asked, indicating a chair across the table from him.
After she sat, he started, studying his hands as he spoke. "I went to speak with Dumbledore today. I've been having a hard time staying away from you, as you know, and I was hoping he might have some advice. He told me that what I'm feeling is perfectly normal, which was kind of a relief, quite frankly, because I thought something must be seriously wrong with me. He told me I had two options. I could exercise will power, which doesn't seem to be doing me much good to this point."
Here, Harry hesitated, knowing that mention of the memory charm might start her down a path of remembrance that ended in a bad place.
"What was the other option?" Sera prodded. Was he going to ask her to go away?
"A memory charm," he said, and he looked in her eyes for the first time since his arrival.
"A memory charm?" Sera repeated, looking away. "Really? After everything, you're considering a memory charm? Maybe we just should have done that back in the States and saved ourselves some grief!"
"No, listen to me, Sera! I don't want my memory completely erased. I don't want to forget you or Sunny. Dumbledore said he could do the charm so that all I'll forget is that I love you right now. Because I do, Sera, and I don't think I can get past that. I won't forget that I loved you before or that we had something special."
"Sounds like an easy way out for you," she said bitterly, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, tightening her defenses to keep out what he was asking her to accept. Obviously, she'd underestimated the level of his commitment to this stupid friendship idea.
"Not just me. I won't do this unless you do it, too. This way, we could remain friends. Because if I have to rely on my will power, I don't see how I can ever see you again. Every time I do . . . well, I can't help the way I feel, and the whole point of this was to protect you."
"We're back to that again, are we?" Though she could see all the reasons it was necessary, had actually lived through some of the reasons it was necessary, she was so tired of everyone hovering around her, like she was a toddler that needed constant supervision.
"But that's what it's always been about, hasn't it?" Harry pointed out. "You can't protect yourself in this world!"
"You wizardy people think you're so great," she said bitterly, jumping to her feet and turning away from him. "You still use friggin' quills, for God's sake! Have none of you heard of a pen?! And is there some reason why you only use fire for light? Does electricity not make loads more sense?"
Harry let that pass. They weren't here to talk about quills or electric lights. And he forced himself not to think about how attractive she was when she got angry.
But she was only getting started. "You know, I'm getting really tired of you magical people looking down on me. Even Mr. Weasley, who claims to love 'people like me'. Even he seems to think we're all a bunch of chimpanzees who should be patted on the head when you give us a hammer and a nail and we figure out what to do with them. We're not idiots, nor are we geniuses for coming up with some basic thing, like the telephone, which by the way, aren't as primitive a means of communication as you all seem to think!"
Harry fought not to let a sigh escape him. This conversation had gotten so far off topic he feared they'd need to start over. When she seemed to have wound down, he said, "So what do you think? About the memory charm?"
Sera didn't want to think, about anything. This was it – this was the end of them. And he seemed perfectly willing to go along with that. Despite the fact that she'd agreed in the abstract that breaking up was the right thing to do, she was finding it harder to put that idea into practice. And she resented him just a little bit for apparently finding it so easy. "Sure. Fine. Whatever you think is best," she said resignedly. "So when do you . . . when do we do it?"
Harry shrugged. "Whenever I tell Dumbledore we're ready, I guess."
"No point in putting it off, is there?" she asked. She thought briefly about bartering, once again, for one more night with him, but what would it matter in the end? "Let's do it tonight. Might as well get it over with, right?"
Harry stood up. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Sera."
"Sure. Me, too." Now that she'd agreed to this, she just wanted him gone. She was going to cry, she knew, and she didn't want him here to see. "Oh, and you might as well take this." She pulled the ring off her finger. He'd never gotten around to buying her a nicer ring, but she didn't care. She loved this one, for all that it had stood for. Now it was just a piece of metal.
Harry came to stand behind her and encircled her with his arms, holding her tightly, resting his cheek on her shoulder. "You keep it," he said. "Consider it a friendship ring."
Despite Sera's best intentions, she leaned back into him, giving in to the warmth of his embrace, allowing herself one more opportunity to feel his arms around her. She knew that if she turned around to face him and pressed her body against his that he would give himself to her one last time, but she couldn't do it because it wouldn't mean anything, despite all her assurances to him that she was willing to accept only a physical relationship with him.
"Go," she whispered.
And he did, leaving her standing in the kitchen, holding onto the sink for support.
##########
Snape found her later in her courtyard, shooting baskets. She was still crying, but the paroxysmal weeping that had forced her into a fetal position on her kitchen floor had ended, leaving her with a gaping hole in her gut that she didn't know how to fill. He watched her for a while, not quite sure how to comfort her. She noticed his presence immediately but made no effort to stop or speak to him until her ball clanged off the rim and ricocheted directly to him. Snape caught it awkwardly and held onto it. Finally, she approached him and stood dejectedly before him. She didn't ask how he knew what they'd agreed to do. She hadn't gone to him with her troubles, and she doubted that Harry had either. But she could see that he knew.
"Is it over?" she asked.
"Potter's with the headmaster now," Snape told her, dropping the ball. "I told Dumbledore I'd . . . take care of you."
"I changed my mind," she told him.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want it. The memory charm. I see why Harry needed it, but I . . . want to remember. I want to remember it all."
"Be reasonable, child," Snape said. "After today, he will be no more than a friend to you."
"I understand that," she said softly.
"Then why put yourself through this any longer?" he asked, not understanding why anyone would choose to continue to be as miserable as Sera obviously was now.
"Because he's the best thing that ever happened to me," she said simply. "I want to keep loving him. It's the only thing I have to . . . the only thing that will . . . I can't live without it."
"I don't think you understand what you're sentencing yourself to – a lifetime of longing that can't be satisfied, of affections that cannot be returned, the agony of unrequited love. And maybe worse, the attempts to replace that loss with a succession of people and objects that never measure up, each attempt more self-injurious than the last. That type of pain can corrupt you and turn you into someone who is unable to experience joy and happiness, someone who will end up alone and miserable."
Sera had the feeling they weren't talking about her any more. "Is that what happened to you?" she asked softly.
Snape thought about denying it, but he really wanted her to see what she was dooming herself to, and he nodded. "Yes."
"Who was she?"
Again, Snape hesitated. Was there anything to be gained by going into details? Finally he decided there was nothing to be lost, and he said, "Lily Potter. Of course, she wasn't Lily Potter when I met her."
Sera put a hand over her mouth. "Harry's mother?"
Snape nodded. "We knew each other as children, long before we came here to school. She was really the only friend I'd ever had. When she began associating with James Potter," he said this name with contempt, "she no longer had time for me."
Sera already knew from Harry how James had treated her uncle. Now she could guess why. James had known that Snape had feelings for Lily, and that was all the added impetus he needed to torment the strange boy that no one liked but his girlfriend.
"And you loved her?"
"From the moment I first set eyes on her, when I was just a small child. She was . . . special."
"Can you see her in Harry?"
"In the eyes," Snape said. He still saw those eyes, her eyes, each night before he went to sleep. They were the only reason he'd agreed to help protect her son, the only reason he'd been able to keep doing it all these years. "And in some of his character traits," Snape was forced to admit. "He has her compassion, her kindness, and her sense of fairness. And her courage. But in all other things, he is his father through and through."
"And that's why you and Harry have . . . struggled?"
"Yes," Snape admitted. "Don't you see? I don't want you to turn out like I have . . . alone in the world."
"You're not alone, Uncle," she interrupted. "You have me now."
Snape held her face between his hands and looked down at her. "Yes, I do. And I can never express how grateful I am for you. And it's why I don't want you to suffer as I have suffered. I always thought that, some day, I would be able to move on, that the pain would lessen, but to this day, I still love her. She inspired that type of strong feeling. And I'm afraid that her son may have inherited that from her as well and that you will wake up one day twenty years from now and realize that you've spent your life waiting for something that cannot happen."
Sera hugged him and cried again, but her tears were as much for him now as they were for her own situation. She'd had no idea why her uncle had remained alone all these years, and now that she knew the sad facts, she wondered if she was making the right decision.
She pulled away from him slightly and looked up at him. "If someone had offered you a memory charm all those years ago, would you have done it?"
Snape sighed, wishing she hadn't asked him that. "Probably not," he admitted. He, too, had hung onto the love, despite the pain it caused, because it had been the only positive force he'd ever experienced in his life. Had Sera inherited from him the inability to let go? But she was young, right? Her life didn't have to mirror his. Maybe she'd be able to move beyond Potter, find a suitable young man, and settle into a life that included children and happiness and fulfillment, all without a memory charm. He could wish that for her, and he could wish to be around to see it when it did happen. Although he would have preferred that she take the easy way out, he would respect her wishes.
"Tell you what," she suggested, her tone lightening a little. "I'll get the memory charm if you get one, too."
He looked down at her and brushed the remaining tears off her cheeks. "You're impertinent," he said.
"That's what I thought," she said, with a small smile.
"You know this will be hard," he pointed out, giving it one last shot. "The next time you see him, the first time you see him with someone else, every time you remember your time with him?"
"I know," she said, but she didn't, not really, and she couldn't until those things happened. She pulled away from him. "But I have you to come crying to, right?"
"You do," he confirmed.
"We can cry and eat chocolates and watch sad movies together," she suggested with a sparkle in her eyes.
"Well, we can eat chocolates together. I'll leave the other to you."
"Oh, and can you get me a treadmill?"
"A what?"
"A treadmill. It's a piece of exercise equipment. It's like running in place. I assume I can't go running around the grounds, so I'll need something here."
"Why?"
"I'm pretty sure you don't want me to tell you that."
His look told her that he clearly thought he did.
"Well, you may not know it, but Harry and I have been . . . getting together rather frequently since we've come here. I find that I like . . . getting together quite a lot. And since he won't be interested in doing that any more, it's either find someone else to . . . get together with or work off that extra energy some other way."
"I'll have it for you tomorrow," he promised, wishing, after all, that she hadn't told him.
##########
Sera was a little surprised and not a little nervous when Professor Dumbledore appeared at her door the very next day. "May I come in?" he asked.
Warily, she allowed him entry and shut the door. She was alert, ready to jump aside if he tried to hit her with any type of memory spell. She watched his hands closely to make sure he didn't appear to be going for his wand. Had she realized that he could have accomplished the spell without his wand, she probably wouldn't have allowed him to come in.
"You seem . . . fearful of something, Miss Mallory," Dumbledore noted, his blue eyes searching hers.
"I'm afraid you're going to do the memory charm on me," she admitted.
"I would not do that against your will," Dumbledore assured her.
"You were going to this summer," she pointed out.
"Ahh, but circumstances were different then. Let me assure you that I mean to do nothing other than talk with you today. May we sit?"
Sera nodded, still on her guard. Dumbledore seated himself on the couch, but Sera chose to perch on the arm of the chair, ready for instant flight, a move which Dumbledore noticed.
"Your uncle tells me that you have chosen to forego the memory charm he offered to you."
Sera nodded. "That's right."
"He has explained to you, I am sure, what it could be like for you if you retain your love for Harry when he feels nothing for you but friendship."
"He has. I'm willing to take that risk."
"Miss Mallory, I do not wish to influence your decision or pressure you to change your mind. I simply wanted to impress upon you the finality of what Harry has had done. I fear you may be holding out some small hope that his love for you was great enough that the charm may not last or may not have completely eliminated that love. You may think that if you wait long enough, he will return to you. I want you to understand that neither of those things is going to happen. If you choose to retain your love for Harry, I will not interfere with that, but I want you to do so knowing full well that his love for you, other than that love which he feels for all of his friends, is gone. I know this because I took it."
In truth, this had proved to be one of the more difficult memory charms Dumbledore had ever had to perform, both due to the complexity of what he was trying to remove and not remove, and due to what he already knew was Harry's extraordinary ability to love. And there had been no doubt in Dumbledore's mind, when he had finally worked through all of the layers of memories in Harry's mind, that Harry had felt real love, and not a teenager's infatuation, for Serafina Mallory. It had taken nearly two hours to ensure that all current memory of Harry's love for Sera was gone, while still leaving the memory of what they once had. Dumbledore had then had to spend another fifteen minutes getting rid of the lust, which could have been just as disastrous if left behind.
Dumbledore had been exhausted at the end of the session, as though he'd performed intricate brain surgery, which he supposed he actually had. After two hours in a trance-like state, Harry "awoke" fresh and rested and with no knowledge of what they'd been doing in Dumbledore's office. He'd wished Dumbledore good night as though they'd just been having a friendly chat and had left the Headmaster's office humming tunelessly.
"It is over for him, Miss Mallory."
Sera's shoulders slumped a little lower the longer he spoke. The truth was, she had been holding onto a glimmer of hope that Harry's love for her was so strong that it couldn't be erased by anything. She knew it was unrealistic, but she couldn't seem to help herself. And now he was telling her that her slim hope was impossible.
"Okay," she whispered.
"If you wish to reconsider your decision now, in light of this, I would be happy to assist you," he offered kindly.
"No, thank you," she said. "Harry was . . . is the best thing that ever happened to me. I feel like I will have nothing left inside me if you remove my love for him. I was empty before. I don't want to be that way again. Even if I am the only one that feels this way."
Dumbledore nodded. "You are very much like your uncle in some ways, Miss Mallory. I accept your decision, and I wish you only the very best. If there is ever anything that I can do for you, I hope you will not hesitate to ask."
"What . . . what does he remember?"
"He remembers how you met, and how you fell in love. He remembers the details of your many encounters together. He remembers your child and how you lost her. He remembers everything that he learned from your uncle over the summer. He remembers everything but that he loves you, in the way a man loves a woman, right now. He does not, however, remember that he's had a memory charm. He will not know why he no longer loves you."
"Just so I understand – he loves me and just can't remember that, or he doesn't love me?"
"Does it really make a difference in the end?"
Sera thought it did, to her, but she said, "No, but I'd like to know just the same."
"True love cannot be destroyed by a third party any more than it can be conjured out of thin air. I performed a memory charm on Harry, Miss Mallory. He still loves you. He just doesn't remember that fact. Nor will he ever."
Lenni came wandering out of the bedroom, yawning and stretching, having obviously just woken from a nap. Her presence reminded Dumbledore of something. "Oh, he will not remember Lenni."
"Not remember Lenni? Why?"
"I felt it best to remove the only remaining physical link between the two of you that ties him to his past with you."
"Why?"
"Because the danger was very great, Miss Mallory, that Harry would fall back in love with you."
"Through Lenni?" she asked incredulously.
"It was possible," Dumbledore admitted with a shrug. "I wished to remove that possibility. How are you coming along with the computer project?"
Sera started at the sudden change in conversation. "Um . . . fine," she said. "It's actually rather interesting. Some of those records are really old."
"You may even find some mention of me in those really old records," Dumbledore noted with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you certain, really certain, that you don't want me to . . .?"
"I'm certain, thank you."
"Then I must be going. I will see you soon, I am sure."
"Thanks for stopping in." Sera closed the door softly after he'd left and stood on the spot for a very long time.