Title: Seven Memories

Rating: PG13

Notes: This was written for a challenge on Madame Hooch's Broom Closet: Slashing The Fat Lady. This fic creeps me out a bit, and I wrote it. So, yeah, it's weird. The pairing is Mrs. Longbottom/The Fat Lady. Flames are expected. Don't overdo the swearing though, okay people? I'm only an itsy youngster. Really.

First Year

She'd forgotten the password. Again.

Rosie Pritchard stamped her foot in annoyance. A dark flush of anger tinged her freckled cheeks, colouring her face an unattractive crimson. Her hands were clenched into tight fists beneath the confines of her robes.

"Just let me in! Its after curfew already, and I'm tired. You don't want me to be tired in the morning, do you? I have a potions test and everything! I'll fail, I know I will! Can't you please let me go inside, just so I can get some sleep?"

The Fat Lady shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was sympathetic.

"I'm sorry dear. I can't let anyone in without the password. Rules, you know."

Rosie growled in anger, and kicked the wall.

"Ow!"

"Now, why in the world did you do that?" The Fat Lady asked, disapprovingly. "You'll hurt yourself that way."

Rosie glared at her.

"I was angry." She muttered.

"There's no need to get worked up. I'm sure one of your friends will let you in later."

"But they're all asleep!"

The Fat Lady sighed. She was clearly going to get no peace tonight. The child was positively crackling with rage. Rosie Pritchard was prone to fits of temper, but she was generally quite a nice girl. A little forgetful perhaps, but nice nonetheless.

"Now calm down," ordered The Fat Lady. "Relax. Maybe you'll think of the password in a few minutes."

"But I can't!" Rosie shouted. "I always forget things like this! I'm so stupid…"

She didn't look angry anymore. Just miserable.

The poor child, thought The Fat Lady, it must be terrible to have such a short memory.

"I'm sure things will work out." She said. "They always do, after all."

Rosie was, for once, silent.

She fell asleep in the corridor. The next day, she failed her potions exam.

Second Year

"What's your real name?" Rosie asked.

The Fat Lady looked at her in surprise. They had talked before, quite often in fact. Rosie was constantly forgetting the password, and The Fat Lady invariably ended up keeping her company. The Fat Lady did not mind. Rosie could be a pleasant companion, when she wanted to be.

"Why do you ask?"

Rosie scowled.

"You don't want to tell me, do you." It wasn't a question.

"I was just surprised, dear. No one has ever asked me that before."

The girl was no longer scowling. She looked at The Fat Lady, astonished.

"Really? You mean, never? Even after all these years?"

"Never."

There was a pause.

"So… what is it then?"

The Fat Lady shifted uncomfortably in her frame. She hadn't used her real name in years. It was remarkable that she could still remember it.

"Helena." She admitted. "Helena Wiggs."

Rosie looked at her thoughtfully, as if coming to some important decision. The Fat Lady watched her uneasily.

"Helena…" Rosie murmured. "I think I like that name."

Third Year

"I was a Lady, of course." The Fat Lady said. "My husband was a cheery sort, and I had two children. Then I was painted. And now here I am."

"Is that all?" Rosie said. She sounded disappointed. "I thought you life might have been, I don't know, exciting perhaps."

The Fat Lady sniffed.

"My life was very interesting, thank you very much."

"'Course." Said Rosie. "Its probably a lot more interesting than mine anyway."

Rosie was moody again. Her mood swings were erratic, and often took The Fat Lady by surprise. She attributed them to puberty.

"What ever do you mean, dear?"

"I spend my evenings talking to a painting," said Rosie gloomily. "What does that tell you?"

The Fat Lady tried not to feel insulted.

She failed.

Fourth Year

"Am I ugly?"

The Fat Lady blinked. Rosie fiddled nervously with the hem of her skirt, gnawing at her lip with worry.

"Where did you get and idea like that?" The Fat Lady said, faintly. Honestly, the questions this girl came up with…

"Narcissa was laughing at me today. She said that I look like a house elf with a big nose. Do I have big nose?" She said anxiously.

"Narcissa Leith? The Slytherin girl?" Rosie nodded. "Don't listen to her, dear. She was being a bully, nothing more. And—"

"But what if she was right?" Said Rosie, in a tone which made it sound like the most important thing in the world. "What if I am ugly?"

The Fat Lady looked at Rosie's freckled face, still plump with youth. Her hair was dark and curly, her eyes fierce. There was a gap between her two front teeth.

"You're not ugly," she said firmly, "and that is final."

Rosie smiled.

"Thanks Helena." Rosie said warmly. "You always make me feel better."

She fished inside her school bag and pulled out a piece of paper. The Fat Lady noted the fact that it was a list of passwords with amusement.

"Prankster."

The Fat Lady swung open, revealing the Gryffindor Tower. Rosie stepped inside.

Fifth Year

As the Gryffindors jostled their way into the Tower, The Fat Lady caught sight of Rosie making her way through the crowd. She wasn't looking where she was going. Instead, she was watching another figure in the throng.

Ah, the redhead, Lily Evans.

She couldn't help but notice the blush on Rosie's cheeks, or the way her eyes were bright with an emotion entirely different from anger. For some reason, The Fat Lady felt unwell. There was an ache in her chest, but she ignored it.

Why should it bother her anyway?

Sixth Year

"Well… You do like him, don't you dear?"

Rosie wasn't blushing but she looked slightly embarrassed. Her expression was guarded.

"Frank is really nice, Helena. He's a good boyfriend. Why would I not like him?" She sounded rather edgy.

Because you like Lily Evans, thought The Fat Lady, or you used to. For some reason, the possibility that Rosie no longer liked Lily Evans suited her perfectly. She tried not to wonder why.

"Yes," she said soothingly. "Frank Longbottom is a lovely boy. Lovely."

Rosie stared at her shoes.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Lovely."

Seventh Year

"Helena."

"What are you doing here, Rosie? This is your last day of school dear, you're free to leave!" She tried to sound happy for her.

Rosie smiled wanly. She still had the gap between her two front teeth, and the scattering of freckles across her face, but she'd grown out all that puppy fat. The Fat Lady reminded herself that Rosie was just a child, really. Still only seventeen.

"I came to say goodbye. You are going to miss me aren't you? I'd most annoyed if you didn't." Rosie warned teasingly.

"Now, no more temper tantrums! I'm sure you've grown out of them by now."

"Of course I have. I'm a grown woman now."

She tried not to think about that.

"Frank always knows how to deal with my tantrums," Rosie said. "He's lovely."

Rosie looked at her hands, as if she were nervous. The Fat Lady saw a glint of something shiny on one hand, before Rosie tucked them with her robes.

"Were engaged." Said Rosie. "Frank wants to get married soon, though. He's always impatient like that."

The silence was tense. The Fat Lady felt unsure of what to say. She felt ill again, panicky. Rosie seemed to have that affect on her.

"Congratulations…" She said, finally. "I'm sure it will be a wonderful wedding."

Rosie took a step forward. One hand came to rest on the side of The Fat Lady's portrait, her fingers shaky. The Fat Lady's vision was obscured for a moment by thick black hair and a thin, fearful face.

"Thank you Helena. You've always understood."

And Rosie leaned forward and kissed her. The Fat Lady could not feel it, but she imagined the feeling of soft lips and tingling warmth. She would have kissed back if she had been able to. But she was only a painting. Nothing more.

Rosie pulled back. Her face was solemn.

"Goodbye, old friend. I'll miss you."

There was silence in the hall as Rosie Pritchard walked away. The Fat Lady watched her go.