A/N: Thank you again to grownuphermione for the beta work on this fic. Much appreciated, my dear!
Thank you so much to Avanell, ronniemione, 35words, and poohlicous for reviewing! I'd love to hear what the rest of you are thinking...
Disclaimer: Still not mine... darn it! The wonderful JKRowling created these characters. No infringement intended.
Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 3 (Running While Standing Still)
In, 1, out, 2, in, 3, out, 4. In, 1, out, 2, in, 3, out, 4.
I counted as I breathed deeply, forcing my body to adjust to my faster stride. I usually went for a run every night after dinner, but some mornings I started the day with one as well. It felt natural to me, as though I'd always been putting myself through such paces. Running quieted my mind like nothing else I had found, not even Hermione. Sometimes being with her made the voices and insecurities floating about in my head seem louder than ever.
Running seemed to help me sort things out, even when I didn't realise I'd been thinking or trying to work out a problem. When I felt the smooth road beneath my feet and my heart thudding deep within my chest, I didn't worry about what might happen if I stopped. I didn't think about my fears that a nameless disaster might strike and take away what little happiness I had been able to carve out for myself. I didn't obsess over every small detail or comment that crossed my mind, but I somehow found a way to let that all go with the air I was expelling out of my body.
I focused on my breath. I focused on the ground. I focused on what I could control. Seems like not much right now, I thought wryly, frustrated that I couldn't control my own mind for what seemed like frighteningly long periods of time.
I mulled over what Hermione began to tell me the night before. She had researched and supposedly found a solution to stop the nightmares. But, what did this brilliant treatment include? I had to take out the memories, of course. That might not have been so bad if this irrational fear didn't grip me every time I thought of it. If I kept the thoughts inside me, they would be hidden from the world. If I pulled them out- well, that felt as though I was unleashing them into a world that could make them true. If I kept them inside, they were safe. As strange as it sounded, even to my own ears, letting them out felt like setting myself up for the visions to somehow happen.
But, they could all happen anyway, a small voice that sounded awfully like Hermione reminded me. Damn, but I hated it how she managed to sneak her way into my head and heart. Except I didn't hate that at all, which was a bit infuriating and confusing.
As the first rays of morning sun peaked over the horizon, I rounded the corner and our flat came into view. I slowed to a walk and my heart began to calm. I loved this time of morning when the world was still quiet. Most of the time I missed it, because I preferred to lie in a bit more than I probably should. However, the days when I saw the sunrise made me feel uncharacteristically optimistic about the future- funny how the steadfastness of nature could do what so many other things could not.
Upon entering our flat, I was greeted with a most welcome sight: Hermione, with her hair messily pulled back, was at the table munching on a piece of toast while she read the morning newspaper. It was such a homey scene and my heart clenched in want, as though that would somehow make it happen. Moments like these blurred the boundaries of reality and desire and possibility and my mind created images of lazy mornings and red-haired babies. Where did that come from?
Sometimes it seemed as if all I had to do was walk over and kiss her. Simple as that and she would be mine. If only it was that easy, I thought, but I knew it wasn't.
She chewed lightly on her lower lip and I tried to stifle a groan from escaping, 'tried' being the operative word. Merlin, does she have any idea how sexy she is? I'd often wondered about that, unsure how she could possibly be unaware of the fact.
She glanced up sharply when she heard my groan, but then she smiled softly at me. It was one of those smiles, the kind where she'd quirk the right side of her mouth and she somehow looked both calm and mischievous. She was trying to kill me; there was no question about it.
"Something wrong, Ron?" she asked, probably because I'd groaned and then stood there staring at her like an idiot.
"Just tired is all. Probably ran too long this morning," I responded, hoping that she believed me, though this little voice cropped up again and pointed out it might not be so bad for her to know I was mesmerised by her. I ignored the voice; it was getting a bit too loud for my tastes lately.
She narrowed her eyes at me a bit, but then averted her gaze from mine. She made a non-committal noise and turned back to her morning paper. For some reason, the small movement annoyed me deeply. She was holding herself back from me- something she never used to do before and I decided that I hated it.
"Something you want to say, Hermione?"
"Not at the moment, Ronald." She didn't even look up when she responded.
"So now you're holding your tongue and lying to me?"
"Excuse me?" She finally glanced my way and a flash of annoyance crossed her features. Not exactly what I wanted, but it was a connection instead of a retreat.
"You're losing your touch. Since when do you shy away from saying anything you want to me?"
"I've never… I'm not shying away," she said, but much more softly than her earlier words.
"You are," I said with no accusation. "You have been. I thought you- we seemed to be- but, then- Fuck! I don't even know what I'm trying to say." I hadn't felt quite this flustered and tongue-tied in a while.
"I'm sorry, Ron, I'm just- well, I wanted to know what you're running from."
"Nothing," I said quickly, probably much too quickly. I didn't want to have this conversation, especially not at this particular moment. I knew I needed to say something, but words failed to come to mind. She folded up her paper and rinsed her plate in the sink before looking sadly at me and leaving the room.
Shite! What just happened? I bolted from the kitchen and called her name, thankful when she turned around and looked at me.
Oh, right, I have to say something. I mentally smacked myself for not thinking of that before I called out to her. Say something, you berk!
"I run because it's the only time it doesn't hurt," I said, surprising myself with the honest statement, and I saw a shift in her gaze.
She started to walk toward me and I forgot how to breathe for a few moments before drawing in a mouthful of air. She stopped a couple inches from me and tilted her head to the side as though she was working out some great problem. She seemed to be breathing awfully hard, but I didn't have time to contemplate that when she whispered something to herself and shook her head.
"Does it hurt here?" she asked and placed a hand on my chest.
I nodded and closed my eyes. I wrenched them open a moment later when I felt her mouth place a long, warm kiss directly over my heart. I was positive she could hear how loudly it was thudding against my ribs.
She looked up and then placed a hand on either side of my head. I swallowed roughly as she pulled my face closer to hers.
"What about here?" she asked and rubbed her thumbs over my temples in slow strokes.
My eyes fluttered shut and she must have taken that for a yes, because I felt her lean into me and rise onto her tiptoes. She gently placed a kiss on my right temple before turning my head and doing the same to the left one. My heart felt full to bursting until she let me go and stepped back.
"Hermione?"
"Mum always says that kisses make everything better."
Bloody genius that is. It had never felt quite like that when my Mum did it.
"I don't know why, but I know it's hard for you to talk to me lately."
"It's not you, I-" I didn't want her to think there was something wrong with her, instead of something wrong with me.
"It's alright, really it is. But, will you promise me something? Will you talk to George today at the shop?"
I nodded at her, overcome with her quiet show of acceptance that I couldn't share my problem with her, not yet. I pulled her to my chest and hugged her tightly. Neither of us said a word, content to stand there holding each other. I rested my head against her cheek and bit my lip to restrain myself from kissing her ear. There should be nothing sexy about an ear, but I wanted to suck the lobe into my mouth. I almost did, but the thought of losing myself in her only to lose her to someone else held me back. She was letting me hold her now, but would she always? When would she get bored of me or realise I didn't deserve her? Worse yet, if I had her, would she stay with me out of pity instead of love? That was something I'd never be able to stand. I loosened my arms and pulled back from her. The space didn't make me feel any better.
She smiled at me; it didn't quite reach her eyes. She stared at my lips for a brief moment before squeezing my hand and turning away. I couldn't help but think I was hurting her by not kissing her. It was almost too much to hope for.
She was gone by the time I showered and dressed. I thought about going to the castle, but as I could find no other reason than "I want to" I decided against it. Crazy idea, anyway.
George was, uncharacteristically, already there when I got to the store. He clapped me on the back and handed over a cup of coffee as he passed me on his way to the workroom. He seemed like he was in a good mood and I felt guilty for even thinking about talking to him. There was no need to upset him with my pathetic nightmares about a woman when he probably had his own nightmares over Fred dying. But, I promised her, I reminded myself.
I walked into the workroom and started grabbing products which needed to be restocked on the shelves. After restocking and tidying, we still had almost an hour until the shop opened and I ran out of excuses.
"George, you got a minute?" I asked somewhat cautiously, not wanting to sound upset or desperate.
"Always, Ronniekins," he said and turned around with a smile, which only made me feel guiltier for bothering him.
"George, the thing is, I've been having- I hate to bring it up but I promised Hermione and--" I felt like a babbling fool, which I thought I was anyway, but there was no need to act it. "This is so stupid!- why is this so hard?"
"Ron?" George was looking at me expectantly, an encouraging smile on his face. "You okay?"
"I'm fine. Actually, no. I've been having nightmares and they won't go away and Hermione reckons I ought to talk to you about them. A bit stupid, yeah?"
"Not at all," he said easily and waved a hand at me to sit on the workbench. "To tell the truth, I already knew you were having problems. Hermione's mentioned it to me a few times. She's worried about you."
"I know she is," I said with a sigh.
"You wanna talk about it then?"
"Not particularly, but she thinks I should."
"That's not what she told me."
"Really?" That news surprised me. Hermione always wanted to talk everything to death. It was one of the reasons I hadn't wanted to share the dreams with her; I thought she wouldn't stop until she'd analysed every single little detail. She was surprising me left and right these days.
"Well, of course she thinks you should talk about it- this is Hermione after all. That wasn't her main goal though. Didn't she tell you about what I've been doing?"
"Um…" I searched my memory and came up completely empty. "No. Should she have?"
"Somehow I thought she did. Not important. I've been seeing a healer at St. Mungo's who's been helping me with the same problems."
"Oh, that. Yeah, she told me about that last night. I don't wanna go to a healer over this."
"Nobody's suggesting that, Ron," George said and looked at me funny.
"Sounds like you both are." Weren't they?
"Did you listen to her, or did you shut her out before she got the chance? I think you don't have the whole story." He stood up and walked over to a tall cabinet, pulling it open before he turned around. "I bought this for myself a couple of months ago, but I don't think I need it as much as you do."
"I don't understand-"
"If you don't wanna go to a healer, then I'll show you how to do it yourself. It won't be exactly the same, but we figured it would still help. Hermione said she will help, too, if you want."
He pulled out a stone basin with a shimmering, swirling surface. Lowering his wand, an ethereal strand wrapped around it. As George lifted the strand out and replaced it back in his head, the surface of the Pensieve became calm and clear.
This is what she wanted me to do?
"You know how to remove a memory, yeah? Well, bring to mind several memories that are connected and pull them out one at a time. Add them each to the Pensieve and you'll be able to view them in the order you put them in. My healer said I needed to be desensitised to what happened to Fred before I could heal. Each time I watched the memories with my healer, he helped me to find associations and logic and, ultimately, peace. I'll never really get over Fred being gone and I'll always feel this hole in me. But, I've come a long way in learning to live my life to honour his memory."
I didn't know what to say. I sat and listened to everything George said, trying to take it all in. Would this really work? Did I really have a right to be upset over some nightmares when George had lost his twin? Could this actually help me to move on and stop being haunted by the past? I wanted so badly to let down my guard and take the leap of faith with Hermione.
"Ron?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I want to try. I'll give it a shot tonight when I get home."
"Why don't you go back to your flat and get started now? It might be better with nobody around."
"But, the Christmas rush- we've only got a couple more weeks- this can wait until tonight." I knew it was a poor excuse, but it was the one I came up with. I wasn't ready to confront myself yet.
"Do it now, Ron. Seriously, mate. I know it's scary, but you gotta do it. Tell you what: why don't you take this home and start pulling the worst of them out? I'll give you a Floo after we open, when we start to get busy. That way you won't have to think about it all day long."
I didn't give myself a chance to argue, nodded roughly, and grabbed the basin. A quick "see you later" and I was at the flat, clutching it tightly to me. I called out to make sure I was alone, knowing full well that Hermione was at Hogwarts and Harry was probably at the Ministry.
Before I could think too much about it or change my mind, I called the worst thoughts and memories and nightmares to the front of my mind. Maybe when this is over, they'll actually feel like memories and start to fade with time. One by one, I brought the strands from my temple to the surface of the Pensieve. Each one I added churned and swirled a bit before circling with the rest.
The odd, icy sensation I got when I removed the shiny wisps became strangely soothing. That made sense in a way, because with each removal, emotional weight was being lifted out of my body. I had a vague recollection of what occurred, but the emotional and psychological charge had been swept away with the details that were no longer ingrained in my mind. It was an addicting sensation to feel so free.
The underlying insecurities were still there, of course, because those were a long-standing part of me, not just a part of what the locket created in me. The cutting and biting remarks that fed the insecurities were gone though, and the difference was remarkable. I had forgotten what it felt like to use reason when I felt particularly down. I had forgotten to trust my best mate, to rely on what I knew- that Harry would never betray me by leaving my sister and taking up with Hermione. I had forgotten how to call to mind the examples and proof of Hermione's affection, to drown out and overwhelm the horrible, niggling feelings of doubt. The feeling was amazing.
This feeling made me want Hermione to be home so I could throw caution to the wind and snog her until we were both breathless. I knew that wasn't right. This was a temporary fix and I needed to work through and re-incorporate these ideas before I could even dream of trying to make it work with Hermione.
George called from the floo and I put the Pensieve on my dresser. I went to the shop and, despite the busy day due to the Christmas sales, I felt calmer than I had in almost a year. It was a relief to find myself again.
Now I remember what I'm working for.
Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! -Risie :o)