A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters.

Warning: Abusive relationship, manipulation, stalking.

Word Count: 428

Endearing.

She'd found it endearing that he remembered the little dates.

He remembered the first time they'd smiled at each other from across the room.

He remembered the night they'd gotten caught out in the rain.

He remembered every minute of every moment.

Endearing.

It was supposed to be endearing.

It was obsessive.

It was bordering on stalkerish.

Endearing how he remembered the color of her dress on a random Saturday.

Endearing how he remembered how much she'd had to drink while he watched her across the bar.

Endearing how he remembered every minute she'd glanced in his direction, wondering why he was staring at her.

Endearing

Maybe she'd been wrong about him?

Maybe he was endearing after all.

He remembered their anniversary, all the small dates.

He remembered their first kiss, how long it had lasted verses how long it had felt.

He remembered every minute they'd laughed together, every minute she'd cried when she'd been alone.

Endearing how he'd wiped the tears from her eyes, the tears he'd caused, but she failed to remember that part.

Endearing.

It was endearing how he held her hand in public.

It was endearing how close she stayed to him, at least that's how everyone saw it.

No one saw the wrist on hers, how tightly his fingers curled against her skin.

Endearing, how she smiled at him, how the smile hide the fear.

Endearing how she cried, how he lied, about how she only cried because she missed him when he was gone.

Endearing.

She remembered their first date, remembered waking up confused.

She remembered nights in pain, nights in fear.

She remembered wanting to leave, but something making her stay.

He was endearing, charming when he wanted to be.

She was his, he kept repeating the endearing little statement.

Endearing.

It was a lie, she wasn't his.

She didn't belong to anyone, much less him.

Endearing, everyone found him so endearing.

He held her close, she pushed him away.

She remembered bits and pieces,

fragments and figments, all pieces

of a the puzzle she was starting to put together.

Endearing.

That word everyone used, to her it didn't mean it anymore.

It meant horrible, it meant fear, terror.

It was her nightmare as she broke through those thoughts.

As she broke through the lies and slipped out into the night.

Endearing.

The way the streetlights flickered as she ran, hiding her shadow.

Endearing, the way the night air hugged her, holding her tightly.

Endearing, the whisper of the wind promising her she'd find her home,

find herself, again.