Obliviate

ELEVEN

DECEMBER 1997: THE FOREST OF DEAN. #1

                He landed unsteadily on his feet in front of the weathered canvas tent. It was raining and memory Harry was sitting outside, propped up against a tree. “Harry?” Her voice called to him from inside of the tent. He followed his memory self as he slipped inside the front flap.

                Hermione was thin. He had forgotten how thin she was during their time on the run. They moved around one another silently and seamlessly. A choreographed dance of sorts. “Are you hungry?” She asked, barely glancing up. Her voice scratchy since they hadn’t spoken since yesterday morning. Harry nodded. Hermione worked on putting together a watered-down tea, some berries and mushrooms they had scavenged earlier that day and plated it up before serving it. Harry glanced at her as she sipped what barely passed as tea and pushed the food around her plate. They ate in companiable silence until their plates were left clean and their stomachs just barely above empty.

                Present Harry remembered all this. It was no wonder she was able to hide a pregnancy, they were barely surviving on the meager meals they made. His heart ached as his mind drifted to Rosalee. He sighed, focusing back on the memory at hand.

                Hermione sat on her cot, the daily prophet in her hands. The pages were soft and rumpled as she read. “Put down the paper Hermione.” Harry demanded, his voice startling her. “Excuse me?” He reached forward, plucking the pages from her grasp. “Put. Down. The. Paper.” He punctuated each word and chuckled as her brow furrowed. “You’ve read that same damn paper no less than fifteen times in the last month. You need something new.” He reached out his hand, his palm up and waiting expectantly. With a quick ‘muffliato’ Harry pointed his wand at the small radio, which began to play a slow song. “Dance with me Hermione.” His tone soft. Hermione smiled, the first one he had seen in days.

                This piece, present Harry couldn’t remember. He watched more closely knowing this is the part of the memory Hermione took.

                “Harry, I can’t dance.” She laughed. Harry smiled, pulling her into his arms and holding her flush against his body. “Don’t lie, I saw you with Viktor at the yule ball. You danced beautifully.” His voice trembled at the end and Hermione paused, her eyes roaming across his face. Before she could read too much into it, Harry spun her, and she laughed. The sound filled the space and Harry smiled. The tent was slowly getting darker, being illuminated only by the soft candlelight.

                As the song started to finish, Harry dipped her with a flourish, cradling her as he studied her face. The next song started; this time a slower beat serenaded them. Harry drew her close, the two swaying unhurriedly to the beat. “Harry…I’m scared.” Hermione whispered, her face barely a breath away from Harry’s. Harry paused, His grip tightening on her. “Why would you be sacred?” He asked gruffly, Hermione licked her lips, her eyes dancing between his own and his mouth, “I don’t want you to die.” She whispered hoarsely. Then, his lips crashed into hers. Hermione let out gasp of surprise. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was full of years of longing. They parted breathlessly, each leaping back and stuttering embarrassed apologies. “We should um… turn this off, get ready for bed. We have to move tomorrow.” Hermione stuttered; her face nearly crimson. They moved awkwardly around one another for a bit. The memory speeding itself up through the silent parts before they were wrapped up in a blanket together sitting on Hermione’s cot.

                “Are you okay?” Hermione asked, her shoulder nudging Harry’s. Neither of them had spoken about the kiss. Harry smiled, nodding his head before pulling the blanket a little tighter around them. “What do you want Hermione? In the future?” He asked her as she laid her head on his shoulder.

                Present Harry watched the scene with aching sadness. It was unfair that these moments were just stolen from him. He could watch the memory play out, see it in front of him, but he would never remember the emotions that he felt from it.

                Hermione sighed, tucking herself deeper into his side. “To rid the wizarding world of that monster and his subjects.” She stated with a shrug.

“I mean after. What do you picture your life like years from now?” Harry asked again, this time clarifying. Her face dropped, sadness washing over her, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea to think that far in advance. We could die tomorrow.” She responded.

                Harry took her hand, linking them beneath the blanket. “Think about it Hermione. Ignore our reality right now and tell me what your future looks like.” Hermione studied his face, her eyes taking in every detail and cataloguing it away to hold onto forever. “I want a career…something I’m passionate about. Maybe teach at Hogwarts one day. I want to be wanted; I mean truly wanted. A man that loves me for everything I have to offer. Perhaps a child or two…maybe three” she said with a laugh.

                “What do you want?” She asked softly, leaning closer and searching his face. Present Harry held his breath as he watched the scene unfold.

“To give you that…” Harry answered finally. They were close enough that their breath mingled, their lips just a hair away from touching. “What?” She whispered, her eyes wide. Harry didn’t respond, instead his hand released hers, snaking up and cupping her cheek before he greedily took her mouth once more.

                Hermione sighed into the kiss, leaning into him instead of away. Its all the approval Harry needs as his tongue traces the seam of her lips. The two stand, their bodies still flush against one another. Hermione shrugs the blanket off, twisting her hands in his cotton shirt. Harry begins to gently push her backwards until the back of her thighs hit the wooden table. He begrudgingly pulls back, leaning his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I’m messing this all up.” He whispers. Hermione shakes her head, “Why would you think that?”

“What if what I want…isn’t what you want?” He asks, finally opening his eyes to gaze into her brown ones. “I think what you want, and what I want are very much the same.”  She responds. Harry groans, kissing her deeply as his hands grip her thighs, lifting her up and placing her on the table. His hands spread her thighs and steps between them, wrapping his arm tightly around her middle.

                Hermione’s arms come up, circling his neck as her legs wrap tightly around his middle. He pulls her from the table, one hand cupping her bottom and the other tangled in her hair. Hermione releases him with one hand long enough to grab her wand, wordlessly conjuring a palette bed in the center of the tent. The two collapse into the soft downy comforter. Harry’s lips leave hers just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, discarding it to the floor before his mouth finds her shoulder. Hermione let out a breathy moan.

                Harry reached down, his hands tugging at the snap along her pants. Hermione slid out of her pants, leaving her in only a cotton shirt and a pair of knickers. Harry’s hand slid up her leg, cupping her knee as he lifted her leg to drape over his hip. “Do you want this?” Harry asked, his tone husky. Hermione was shivering beneath him. She licked her lips as her eyes roamed his face. “Yes…Yes Harry, I want this.”

                It was all the assurance that Harry needed. He climbed out of his own trousers, his fingers hooking into her knickers, leaving them bare to one another. Harry lined himself up with her center, one hand intertwining with hers, “You’re sure Hermione? There’s no turning back after this.” Hermione nodded; her eyes locked on his. Harry rocked forward, easing into her gently. “Please...” Hermione begged, her eyes squeezed shut and her knuckles white. “Breath Hermione.” Harry’s voice trembled. She took a breath, “Relax…gods you’re so tight. “Harry groaned, burying his face into her neck.

                Present Harry could barely tear his eyes away. It was everything he had ever wanted but never thought he was allowed to have. Hermione stole the memory of the act but the feelings he held for her were always there. He licked his lips and rubbed his face. He was struggling. His gaze returned to the scene before him.

                After a moment, Harry’s thrusts got harder and faster, Hermione moaning and panting as her fingers combed through his hair. “Harry!” She called. Moments later they came apart around one another. “Fuck, Hermione!” Harry yelled, suddenly backing away. Hemione reached out, grabbing him, “Did I hurt you?” He asked, his eyes wild, Hermione smiled, “No, that just happens the first time.” She reached for her wand, muttered a quick cleaning spell over them both and pulled Harry back down to the bed.

                Present Harry watched as the memory sped up. He watched as they fell asleep, wrapped around one another. Finally, it was morning, and he watched Hermione sit up with a start, her gaze frantic as she took in the scene around her. “Oh no…what have I done? Oh Harry…” She whispered as she slid from the bed. She dressed quickly. Picking up her wand she stood at the edge of the bed, her silent sobs shaking her shoulders. It must have been what had woken Harry up as she pointed the wand at his head.

                Present Harry clenched his jaw angrily. He hadn’t been mad at her for the obliviating. Not when he assumed it was because of something he did to her, but now…he was furious. He could see the memory, watch it play out, know what happened, but he couldn’t remember the feeling of her breath on his face, how her skin felt beneath his fingertips, or the way it felt when she came apart beneath him. He couldn’t remember the way her lips tasted, of what it felt like to have her hands comb through his hair.

                “Hermione…What are you doing?” Harry asked, his voice thick with concern.  “Fixing this Harry…” She said on a sob. Understanding washed over his face, “Please don’t.” Before he could say anything further, she closed her eyes, squared her shoulders and whispered, “I love you, Harry.” her voice just as broken as her heart. “Hermione…” He tried again, desperation in his voice. Before he could say anything more, she whispered “Obliviate.”

                Harry stilled, frozen within the spell as Hermione pulled the last few hours from his mind. She worked her magic, dressing him and vanishing the bed from the tent, placing him in his cot before rushing out into the trees just beyond the shield where she broke.

                Present Harry watched helplessly as Hermione ran through the trees, putting as much space as she could between them. Finally, she collapsed, falling to her knees as she let out a broken sob. Her pain was palpable. She wrapped her arms around her middle, like she was trying to hold herself together. She took one strangled breath after the other as she sobbed. Harry watched as she vomited the little contents of her stomach onto the ground before her.

                The memory pushed Harry out and he stumbled, clutching his chest. He was alone and there was no point in stopping the sob that ripped from his own chest as he fell to the floor broken and angry.