trying to find something
looking for a whole lot of nothing
and then you found me at your door
full of silent expectations no one could have known
so how would I?

September 2nd 1PM

"Khalida," I warned, "stop hovering over me this instant. I told you already, I AM FINE!" Khalida blinked rapidly as she looked down at me, tears forming in her bright red eyes.

"I am only worried about you," she huffed. Her black dress swirled around her as she stalked out of the living room. A groan escaped me and I turned over to stare up at the ceiling, one arm draped over my forehead.

From the moment I arrived at Sanctuary, which is the name of Khalida's home on the floo network, Khalida began pestering me nonstop. She would ask me how I felt every five minutes and then she would fuss over me constantly, fluffing my pillow, offering me food or something to drink. In other words, she was slowly driving me up the wall.

"Khalida!" I called out, "Please don't be mad. I'm just a little cranky because I don't feel well!" Faster than humanely possible, Khalida was at my side.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked as she fluffed my pillow for the hundredth time, "Maybe you need to eat? Or I could get you a glass of water? Would you like some fresh air, I could open a window."

"No, no, no and no," I replied, "I'm just a little bored."

"I'm sorry," she said sadly, "I am not used to entertaining guests."

"That's not it," I said quickly, "I'm just sick of lying here, but I'm not feeling well enough to do anything. I'm usually a very active person." I wanted to make sure that she understood that it wasn't her fault that I was bored. The vampire had gone out of her way to make me feel welcome in her home.

"I see," she replied with a knowing look, "Why don't I take your mind off things then?"

"How?" I asked nervously and she merely chuckled.

"Don't worry," she laughed, "I'm not planning on eating you. I thought you might enjoy a story."

"What kind of story?"

"Any kind you wish," she answered, "Maybe you'd like to hear about some of your father's misadventures."

"Misadventures," I snorted, "Did those happen before or after he became a cold-blooded monster?" Khalida shook her head sadly as she pulled a chair up next to the couch.

"Your father was not a monster," she replied, "When I first met him he was still a boy and he still enjoyed having fun every so often." I stared at her disbelievingly.

Everything I had read about Harry Potter suggested that he had fun while he was at Hogwarts. No one mentioned that he had been anything but miserable when he stayed at Grimmauld Place after his fifth year. With everything that had happened to him it was difficult to believe that he had ever been happy.

"It is true," Khalida chuckled, "I see on your face that you do not believe me, but I swear that it is true. Gilgamesh was such a sweet boy. I always had to work very hard to make him laugh or smile but on the rare occasion that he did, all that work was well worth it." I was still skeptical but decided to hear her out.

"Tell me a nice story about my father," I pleaded, "A story that doesn't involve evil wizards or killing curses." Khalida gave me a warm smile, the tips of her fangs peeking out from underneath her top lip.

"Your father and I did many fun things together," she replied, "I was the only one who ever took him away from Grimmauld Place. The others were always too scared of Dumbledore."

"You weren't?"

"Of course not," she scoffed, "I'm ridiculed and reviled just for being what I am. What could he possibly do to me?" I thought about it for a moment and nodded my head in agreement of her logic.

"So where did you end up taking him?" I asked curiously.

"We went many places together," she said with a laugh, "After he received his apparition license we were able to travel long distances without a problem."

"We visited Romania to see the dragons once, that was quite fun," she said with a chuckle and then continued, "Japan was very nice too. Our visit to China was one of my favorite little vacations. Have you ever been there?"

"No."

"You should go," she stated, "I'm sure you have heard of the Great Wall before." I nodded. "Well," she continued, "it is one of the most breathtaking sights I had ever seen. I remember feeling the stones and I could feel all of the death embedded there."

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously.

"Vampires can sense death," she explained, "I could feel all of the lives that were lost and buried in the stone."

"I thought we agreed no stories about death," I sighed.

"Sorry," Khalida replied with an embarrassed grin.

"No problem," I stated, "Why don't you tell me about one of your adventures?" She nodded excitedly and I wondered for a moment if I was prepared for what I was getting myself into.

"When Gilgamesh turned seventeen I told him he could choose to go anywhere he wanted," she began, "I assumed it would take awhile for him to decide but he just grabbed my arm and apparated us away."

"We ended up in the middle of a gigantic cornfield and I was truly surprised. A seventeen year old teenage boy should have wished to go somewhere fun, like an amusement park or a shopping mall, but he chose a place where there was nothing."

"We walked among the corn for many hours," she continued, "Neither one of us said much but the silence was nice. You can't imagine how quiet it was."

"That doesn't sound very exciting," I interrupted.

"Well I haven't finished the story yet," she explained, "I was just getting to the good part."

"An old farmer found us in the field," Khalida stated with a faint smile, "I have to admit I was a tad bit frightened. I have never been very comfortable in the presence of muggles and even wizards make me a little nervous. The farmer was nice though. He asked us what we were doing in his field and we told him some made up story about getting lost."

"He led us out of the field and invited us to dinner at his home. Even though he had been nice to us I still wasn't comfortable and I told Gilgamesh that I wanted to go home. Gilgamesh shook his head and told the farmer that we would be happy to eat with him."

"The farmhouse was small and cozy. I could tell Gilgamesh loved it immediately by the way his eyes lit up," she continued, "He was even more enraptured with the place after he met the farmer's wife. She was short and rather plump but she was very sweet. The first thing she did was give Gilgamesh a huge, motherly hug. That was the first time I'd ever seen him so happy and relaxed."

"What happened next?" I asked inquisitively.

"Not much," Khalida said with a shrug, "We ate dinner and spent the night at the farmhouse laughing and talking. The farmer and his wife had no children of their own and they seemed to adopt Gilgamesh immediately. The woman even took a liking to me and asked me many questions about my life. I had to lie about most of it, but it was still nice to know someone cared to listen."

"The next day we said good-bye and left," she added simply.

"That's it?" I asked in confusion, "It doesn't sound like much of an adventure." She gave me an annoyed look.

"Are you kidding me?" she questioned, "I thought it was one of the most exciting nights of my life." Now I was really confused.

"It sounds like you just had dinner with a farmer and his wife," I stated, "What in the world is so exciting about that?" For a moment she looked at me like I was crazy but her expression soon changed to one of understanding.

"For one night," she explained, "Gilgamesh and I were able to be someone else. I was able to remember what it was like to be alive and he had a family. I'm not quite sure how he felt about it, but I know that I was happier than I had been for at least a thousand years."

The truth of her words hit me hard. This was what my father's life had been like; he had to pretend he was someone else in order to be happy. It was no wonder why Khalida got along so well with him, they both wished for the same thing. Both of them were extraordinary in their own right, but in the end their greatest desire was to be just like everyone else.

"Did you ever see them again?" I asked. Khalida became very quiet after my question. I watched in confusion as she stood up and pushed her chair back to its original place in the living room. "Khalida, did you hear me?" I questioned, "I was wondering if you ever saw them again."

"No," she stated firmly. Her knuckles grew even whiter then they already were as she gripped the back of her chair tightly.

"Just tell me what happened," I said softly, "You can tell me." She shook her head fiercely.

"No," she said again, but her tone was weaker then it was before. "The story ends there," she said with a faraway smile, "A happy story with a happy ending." I shook my head doubtfully.

"Not every happy story has a happy ending," I offered, "and not every sad story has a sad ending." Khalida seemed to think about what I said for a moment and I noticed her grip on the chair relax slightly.

"You are right," she stated resignedly.

"We did go back a few months later," she explained, "The farmhouse was exactly the same as it had been when we'd been there the first time and we were greeted with the same hugs and smiles."

"We stayed for a few hours and chatted merrily," she continued, "It had been Gilgamesh's idea to go back and I had been so happy. For weeks that warm, little farmhouse was all I could think about."

"Something was wrong though," she said with a frown, "Gilgamesh was acting strangely. He seemed to be happy about going back but I could see sadness in his eyes. At the time I attributed it to the fact that he was an orphan and as much as he enjoyed his pretend family they couldn't quite fill that emptiness in him which longed for his own family, a real family."

"After we had been there for a few hours he began to act suspiciously and then he pulled his wand on them," she stated.

"No," I gasped.

"Yes," she replied grimly, "He obliviated them, making sure that they would never remember that we'd ever been there." She shook her head as she stared down at her feet. "I was so angry at him," she added, "He took away the one thing I wanted the most. The one thing I thought we both wanted. I felt like he betrayed me."

"But why did he do it?" I asked quizzically, "Was it for their safety or something?"

"In a way it was for their own safety," she explained which confused me further.

"Memories are a hard thing to live with," she added, "No one knows that better than someone like me. I've been alive for thousands of years and I have millions of memories, some bad, and some good. Gilgamesh knew the same thing so he made them forget."

"But I still don't understand," I interrupted.

"He wanted them to forget about us," she cried out, "Don't you see? We had done something terrible to them. While we were playing house they were falling love with a girl and a young boy that they would most likely never see again."

"We lied to them," she continued in a pained voice, "We lied and used them just as we had both been lied to and used. So he obliviated them and wiped away the lies that we told them but he left us with the memories. Memories of things that we'd never have again."

"My God," I said with an exasperated sigh, "It's all about punishing yourselves with you people isn't it?"

I stood up from the couch and intended to walk toward her and offer some sort of comfort. Although I felt more of a need to slap her and knock some sense into her. Halfway across the living room I began to feel dizzy once again and my knees gave way underneath me. Khalida rushed to my side as I collapsed and everything went black.

My fists were bloody from pounding on the backdoor that led into the house. "Please let me in," I whispered. I sank to the ground and waited. Soon I heard my father on the other side of the door speaking to Lucas' mother in hushed tones. He said something I couldn't make out. He said the word again and this time I could make it out but I didn't recognize it.

A few minutes later the door swung open and I leapt into his arms. He carried me through the doorway and we walked past Lucas and his mother on our way out. I glanced at them for a moment and waved down at Lucas. He didn't wave back. Instead a pair of glassy, unseeing blue eyes stared up at me.

My eyes snapped opened and the blue eyes were gone. Concerned red eyes replaced them as Khalida held out a hand to help me up. I slapped her hand away angrily and pushed myself up off the floor. I staggered for a moment and then began to pace back and forth across the living room.

"Are you okay?" Khalida asked softly, "Maybe I should call Dumbledore or Severus."

"No!" I snapped as I tugged at my hair furiously, "I can't believe that bastard. Dammit!" Khalida flinched away from me. "How could he do that to me?! How could he hurt me like that?!"

"Who?" Khalida asked in confusion.

"My father," I sneered. Khalida walked over and attempted to lead me back to the couch but I pushed her away roughly. "Get your hands off me," I snarled.

"What has got into you Jenny?" she asked nervously and I ignored her question.

"You know what," I said with an angry laugh, "I'm going to tell Dumbledore to bring him back. That's what I'm going to do. And then after he's alive again I'm going to kill the bastard for good."

"Jenny," Khalida pleaded, "please just tell me what's wrong." I turned away from her and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

I stared into the mirror for a few minutes until my anger got the best of me and I punched my reflection. The glass shattered and fell to the floor. Blood began to flow down my fingers and I stared at it with detached fascination. Khalida was pounding at the door and I knew in a moment she would rip it off its hinges in order to get to me.

Dipping one finger into a small puddle of my own blood I wrote one word on the wall where the mirror used to be. It was the word that my father had spoken on the other side of the door. The one that I could never make out.

Khalida finally ripped the door away and rushed inside. She stopped short at the sight of blood and I took that opportunity to walk quickly past her. I heard her gasp in surprise a moment later when she noticed my blood on the wall, spelling out one very powerful word.

OBLIVIATE