"The memory is like the picture then

When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again."- Linkin Park, "Forgotten"

Chapter Eleven: Alexander's Story

Someone shaking my shoulder insistently jerks me into wakefulness. I look around, my vision clouded with fear and anger, my body trembling and covered in cold sweat. The first thing my eyes land on is Snape bent over me, his pale face grim. So real is the loathing I feel left over from the dream, that when I see the Death Eater so near, before I even realize what I am doing, I launch myself at him, my hands reaching for his throat. "You!" The word rips from me in a strangled scream. Though I am smaller in size, I have caught Snape by surprise, and knock him to the floor, where I sit on his chest, pinning him there, my hands around his neck, squeezing as hard as I can.

He struggles, but can't get out from under me, his eyes wide in the first real emotion I've seen displayed there—fear. His mouth opens gasping for air, his hands gripping my wrists, trying to pry away the hold I have on him, but my anger adds to the little strength I have left, rendering all his efforts fruitless.

I might kill him…I have the power in my hands to finally become the monster the wizarding world believes me to be. But, as I look down at his face, his black eyes fearful and pleading, I feel my anger fading, and I know I cannot kill him, not like this. I release my grip and stand up hastily, backing away from him. Snape pulls himself to his feet, his hand massaging his neck, inhaling deep breaths of air. I can already see the bruises my fingers left forming on his pallid skin, but I cannot apologize for hurting him, and he doesn't seem to expect me to.

"Good morning to you too." Snape mutters, pulling out his wand and waving it carelessly, causing a tray filled with food to appear on the bed. I stare at it, scarcely believing that he is going to feed me after I nearly killed him. He leaves the room, and I sit, picking up a piece of toast and nibbling at it half-heartedly. I soon give up on the toast, and go to stand by the window. I can see a very pastoral countryside, with rolling hills, green pastures, and just beyond, in the far distance, I can make out the sparkle of the sun playing off the ocean surface. So peaceful and calm…so different from the bedlam whirling around in my head. I lean my head against the cool glass of the window, replaying the dream over and over in my mind.

I hear Snape reenter the room and pause. "I didn't poison the food, you know." His dangerously soft voice holds an undertone of humor, but I ignore him and his dangerous voice. "Very well," he continues, "have it your way. But don't think I'm going to keep wasting my time preparing food for you like some house-elf."

"Why did you do it in the first place if it was such a waste of your time?" I grit out, not turning to face him. "What did I say about asking useless questions?" I shrug. "I don't think it's a useless question. You saved me and you've taken me into your own house, and I have no clue as to why the hell you've done it. Who am I to you?"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you." At this I spin around, my eyes narrowed. "That's the worst answer to any question ever asked. Of course I don't know, otherwise why would I be asking the goddamn question in the first place?" He arches one eyebrow at me and smirks slightly. "It's not a matter of knowing. It's a matter of understanding." I hold my head in my hands. "How can you understand something without knowing it in the first place?" Honestly, this conversation was giving me a splitting headache.

"You understood that Voldemort was going to kill either you or Jakura without a second thought, because he was Voldemort. But you didn't know it before it happened." I raise my head and gape at him. "How did you know about that?"

"You were talking in your sleep," he said, then he hesitates for the briefest of moments, before continuing, "and I was there when it happened."

"You were there?" My voice is choked with barely constrained emotion, and maybe it's my imagination, but I see him take a tiny step back. "You saw everything? You watched as Voldemort killed an innocent woman who had done nothing…she had done…nothing…" The emotion forces its way forward, and I sit on the edge of the bed, my head buried in my hands. Snape is silent, perhaps he's dealing with his own ghosts, or maybe he's allowing me to grieve, but I'm not grieving. I'm remembering. The parts of my life that had disappeared are beginning to resurface, each falling into its place like well-formed jigsaw puzzle pieces.

"Do you miss her?" Snape's voice is quiet, inquiring.

"Every day. I may have forgotten who she was while I was in Azkaban, but she'd never really left me. She was always there…a little part of my mind…an aching in my heart that didn't need dementors to remind me of."

"You forgot your own wife?" He sounds incredulous, but without the slightest bit of contempt one would expect from someone who's just heard you'd forgotten the most important person in your life.

"Yes, I forgot. I just lived from day to day…basing my entire world on survival. I saw what they did to those who didn't try to keep sane, and I was determined not to go the same way. But now…now I'm free…and with freedom comes that which I denied myself while there. I am remembering."

"What do you remember?"

"Everything." I am quiet for a moment, thinking, and Snape is silent as well, just sitting there, I guess waiting for me to start speaking again, which I do.

"My name is Alexander Hunter Weasley. My friends called me Arrow…get it, Hunter, Arrow…never mind that. My father was Nathaniel Weasley, Arthur Weasley's brother. Can I presume you know my Uncle Arthur?" I look at him and he nods his head, still silent. I continue. "My mother was Miranda Johnson Weasley. I was born in 1958, in Liverpool. My father was an auror, but was killed during a mission when I was five. My mother died shortly after, from some kind of cancer, they claimed. But I knew what it was, as I watched her suffer through it, just as I have suffered losing my own spouse. She died of a broken heart. Many laugh at the thought of someone dying from broken heart, but I witnessed it…I heard it crack in two as she lay upon her deathbed. After my mother's death, I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle in the Burrow—that's the name of their house. They took me in as if I was one of their own, and though they are not the wealthiest of all wizards, they offered what little they had to me with graciousness and love. I attended Hogwarts, going back and forth between school and the Burrow, making friends and helping to raise the three boys, Bill, Charlie, and Percy." I stop and think about the young man who stood in front of my cell, clueless as to who I was. 'So sad, he doesn't remember the person who gave him his first book…'

"Anyway, despite my somewhat tragic beginning, I was happy. Those must have been the best years of my life. All I can remember is happiness, joy, a feeling of belonging somewhere…" here I pause and look at Snape, whose face is twisted in something I cannot describe, "I'm sorry," my tone is biting, "is this making you feel a bit nauseous?"

"What? No, not at all. It just isn't the kind of tale I imagined…"

"Oh, if you're expecting gore and killing curses, that comes later, so just be patient." I sneer, before falling back in into my reverie.

"I remember the first time I saw Jacqueline Fairbanks. It was third year at the Gryffindor and Slytherin match. She was the new seeker for Slytherin and she caught the snitch before the game had been going for ten minutes." I chuckle quietly, remembering the moment. "I can't say I liked her immediately. This isn't that kind of love story. Actually, I didn't like her at all. I was royally pissed off, as well as were the other members of Gryffindor, that Slytherin had beaten us so quickly, and we of course placed the blame squarely on Jacqueline. I led the group that would tease her. She went through most situations that would have made every other girl in Hogwarts flee to the loo bawling without batting an eyelid. She was quite a girl, that one. And never did she 'sic' her fellow Slytherins on us either. In fact, I've always had the funniest suspicion that she kept them from ganging up on us. If only we had been that fair to her…

It wasn't until sixth year that I ever experienced a moment alone with Jacqueline. We had both received detention. I had set off a Filibuster Firework in some Slytherin's cauldron during Potions, and she for having given poor Bertha Jorkins a tail. Our job was to clean the entire Infirmary, chamber pots and all, without magic. It took us nearly the entire night, but let's just say we got to talking and learned a lot more about each other than either of us would have thought possible.

To make a long story short, we became friends (yes, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin can be friends, so stop looking at me like that, Snape) and by seventh year, we had fallen for each other. Perhaps we can say that both of our houses were a little perplexed by our romance; though that's a bit of an understatement. It was like that Muggle Romeo and Juliet tragedy, and like the Montagues and Capulets, our Gryffindor and Slytherin were livid. Jacqueline and I became sort of outcasts…but we didn't care. We had each other. The second we graduated from Hogwarts, I proposed to her. We were married the summer after graduation.

We were inseparable—till death do us part—we even worked the same jobs at the Ministry. Uncle Arthur found us spots in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, and we were quite useful there, considering how I spent my early childhood and the fact that Jackie's parents were Muggles.

Anyway, at this time, Voldemort had been rising in power and had nearly complete control over the wizarding world. I'm sure you remember that time." I cast Snape a dark look, which he seems to ignore, though his eyes grow slightly blacker, if that's possible. "At the Ministry, it was nearly impossible to tell which side people were on. Everyone was under suspicion of being a Death Eater, or somehow consorting with Voldemort's followers. Uncle Arthur and another wizard, Drew Callahan, decided to form a small group of witches and wizards they knew hadn't gone to the other side. Jackie and I were immediately recruited, with only a little grumbling on the side about her being a former Slytherin.

We were the unrecognized heroes—though we didn't mind that. In fact, we were pleased that no one knew who had been capturing and killing Death Eaters, that way Voldemort would have a harder time tracking us down. However, just in case an insider came across information concerning us, we took on nicknames. As you've probably guessed, I was Arrow. Jacqueline was Jakura." I pause as Snape looks at me questioningly.

"In Japanese, Sakura means cherry blossom. I just played with it combining her name and the word, calling her my Jakura. My little cherry blossom…" I trail off, and Snape looks away towards the window, giving me the time I need to pull myself together. It's been so hard, living all these years without thinking, and then suddenly being reminded of everything at once. I swallow hard and start speaking again. "Our names protected us from any possible spies outside or inside the Ministry. For a while it did work. But our success wouldn't last long. Somehow, someone discovered who we were, and they leaked the information to the Dark Lord. He let news 'slip' of a small Death Eater meeting in a forest near Oxford. Callahan chomped down on the bait immediately, while my uncle was a little more cautious about it. He couldn't understand how we'd gotten the clue so easily, but Callahan was insistent that we take the chance while we could, or, to directly quote him, 'Grab the bull by the horns, Arthur, grab the bull by the horns!' So we did…we went to the forest on the night designated for the meeting.

There we split into twos…Green and Spark (Callahan and Arthur), Jakura and I, and two others called Joker and Flyaway. Now that I think about it, it was most ridiculous thing we'd ever done before, but we were anxious to bring more Death Eaters to justice, and I suppose we were blind to the obvious.

We were there for nearly the entire night, with no trace of the Death Eaters whatsoever. We found Green and Spark sometime near dawn, and asked them if we should call it a night. Green was a stubborn fool though…he said to keep looking until we had proof that there'd been no Death Eater meeting. We split up again, and just as the sun was starting to rise, Jakura heard something through the trees. I hadn't heard anything, but she insisted that she go investigate, and I, being the obtuse git I was, allowed her to go. She came back, said she found the Death Eaters…and then we were surrounded. Well, you know that part of the story, don't you?" I say blandly, staring at him. Snape shifts slightly in his chair, and I believe I spy regret in those shadowy eyes of his, but he still says nothing. I sigh. "Well, when I was brought back to consciousness, I found Green and Joker looking down at me. Jakura was lying on the other side of the clearing, Flyaway checking her pulse. I managed to stand up and get to her side, where my worst fears were confirmed. Voldemort had killed her, my wife…my love.

Green and Joker had to haul me away from her so they could transport her to the nearest hospital. All the way there, I just kept saying one thing, 'Why bother? She's already gone.' At the hospital, before the mediwizards could confirm that which I was aware of, Green pulled me to the side. He looked me straight in the eye and asked, in a voice so low, I could hardly hear him, 'How could you do it, Arrow? How could you betray us in this way? And taking the life of your own wife.' I was too stunned to speak as I was dragged out of the hospital by two guards from Azkaban; not the dementors, mind you, not yet.

I don't know what happened to my uncle. I thought he was with Green, at least, he was supposed to be. But Green had told me in the clearing, that Spark had gone to the Ministry to inform them of what had happened. When I was in an Azkaban holding cell, Green had visited me several times, explaining that my uncle couldn't bear to bring himself to visit me. I did receive an owl from him once…it said he was ashamed by what I had done, but would be there to testify for my character in court. It was most definitely his handwriting and signature, and I owled him back, pleading my innocence with him. I got no answer. However, I clung to the belief he would be there for me when it came time for the hearing. But he never showed up. Crouch said he didn't want to tarnish the family name by testifying to some scum like me. And I think, out of all his mistakes and inaccurate claims, Crouch was right about this one thing. How could Arthur not come to court unless he was humiliated by what I had done to the family honor? That's when I knew I was never to be free again.

At first I was furious, screaming my innocence at the top of my lungs in Azkaban until I couldn't talk anymore. When I found that nothing would help me, I decided to be silent, and accept the punishment I was receiving. I thought of it as punishment for not having done more to protect Jakura…for not having giving my life for hers right away. And so I lived. For seventeen years, I endured Azkaban, thinking it only to be a meet penalty for my past sins."

I finish and we sit there, in a silence so thick, one could hack through it with a dull butter knife; each being haunted by our own specters of the past. For him, it's his own regrets and guilt of a pledge he wish he'd never taken; for me, my own regrets and guilt, and the recollections of Jakura, my little cherry blossom.



A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up, but it was really involved, and I had to work carefully so as not to screw it up and mess up the entire plot. Whew. So, there it is. No, the story isn't complete, I've got soooo much more work to do! Argh! Anyways, r/r's are always welcome. ^_^