It was raining when Alice "woke up". Poppy told her that she was never really asleep, just gone. She thought that was worse. When she woke up she could barely hear the sobbing of her child over the rain against the glass. The stars winked at her like a threat. She had a diamond bracelet around her wrist.
She'd lost her memory.
That's what she was told. She was told a lot of things. That she'd fought in a war, that her son fought in the second one. That he helped win it. That she was married, to Frank Longbottom. Her mother was dead, she'd been dead for a long time. Her father was alive. But they didn't know where. "I'm so sorry", they would say, "There's things we just don't know." She'd stared out the window while they spoke, watching the tiny droplets race one another to their death. Alice missed the sea.
When she first woke up she knew very little. She knew her first name was Alice Fortescue. She knew she was a witch. Or, she used to be.
It's funny, she remembers thinking, The only thing I remember, and it's gone now.
To reverse the effects of the Cruciatus Curse they had to take her magic. She wished they hadn't.
She wished she were dead.
Alice and Frank couldn't speak to each other. Much to Neville's dismay. It's an odd thing, trying to reconcile with a stranger you're supposed to love. Maybe they were both scared of what they'd find in each other. In her heart she knew that she didn't love Frank, an inescapable truth that she felt with every torturous beat. She felt close to him, but being near him hurt. It hurt because she'd come back to life and she couldn't give Neville the one thing he really needed; his parents. If she loved Frank once she didn't know. She assumed that she did, she also assumed that their marriage was complicated. Because the week after they woke up, Frank found her in the kitchen. It was night, she'd made herself tea out of a habit she couldn't remember. It was the first time they spoke.
"I don't think that I love you." He'd whispered, chaste like a secret. It was also the first time she'd smiled. They still couldn't meet the others eye, but they understood each other well enough.
"No, I don't think I love you either." She'd uttered back, just as quietly with her head ducked low to hide the grin on her lips. He made tea and sat on the other side of the living room, a safe distance. They didn't speak much, in fear of waking up Neville perhaps. Or perhaps they didn't want too. She doesn't know. She knows very little, even now.
The only person she knew that she did love was Neville. Alice didn't remember him as a baby, obviously, but that never mattered. He looked a lot like her, more so at twenty-two than before from the pictures she'd seen. He had Franks blonde hair, but he was hers everywhere else. Alice's hair is a dull white now, thinned from little care over the years. Her skin wraps around her bones like a gift wrapped tight. Her eyes are sunk deep into her head and her lips are a permanent blue. But one thing she knew was that he was hers. His bright green eyes and the freckles that peppered his skin. He told her stories of his time at Hogwarts, the school she'd gone to, and he told them humbly. He didn't talk himself up, even though Alice was told he'd been brave enough to help end the war. The war she couldn't win.
She'd been told, later on, about what had happened to her and her friends. It was a conversation with Minerva, a nice enough woman, and her wife- Alice's nurse- Poppy. It was too late to have the conversation, she remembers thinking. Four months after she woke up they told her all of her old friends were dead. She had a lot, apparently. They apologize. Alice stared out of the window. Her tea went cold.
A month later Poppy saw it fit to tell her what happened to her and Frank. She said that Alice was in a better state of mind now, that she deserved to know. Alice disagreed. She didn't want to know. She wasn't ready. She wanted to die.
Frank held her hand. They didn't look at each other.
They'd been tortured to insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange, Barty Crouch Jr, and a couple other 'death eaters' in their home in 1981. Alice had stopped breathing after she'd heard the name Bellatrix. She didn't know why it hurt. She didn't think she wanted to know. She didn't want to know any of it. The knowing hurt, because knowing wasn't remembering. And remembering wasn't knowing.
She had nightmares. She didn't see faces in them. She didn't know who she saw in them.
Every time she woke up she had the selfish, selfish urge that she didn't.
The blonde girl was dying in all of her dreams, and every time she woke up she knew she didn't save her.
London didn't have a clear day for months.
❀
It was night time when it happened, because the best things rarely ever happen during the day. Alice had been walking, bundled in her new coat and a large scarf. It had been nearly a year, and they'd just started to trust her to go out and about by herself. It was nice, the being alone. It was winter, so the streets surrounding Neville's flat were lined with twinkling lights and blessed with the sound of music. She found that she loved Christmas. Maybe she always had. At first, they told her that it was possible her memory would come back. In snippets. And then eventually completely. She hadn't even let herself hope and she was still disappointed. The healers apologized, because if it was going to happen it would've already started to come back to her. It hadn't. She still knew very little. She'd learned to appreciate that. It was better that way.
Frank had started to remember around the seven month mark. He still only had up to his early school memories by a year, but he was expected to make a full mental recovery. Alice tried not to feel jealous. She failed.
Being alone was nice, though. Nobody pitied her while she was alone. Everybody looked at her as if she were normal. They would look through her, as if she were nothing. As if she didn't even exist. It was better that way.
Snow fell while she was out. It fell down in little flakes that caught in her hair and melted with every step. Fragile little things. She could never quite explain why she did it, why she made the detour. She'd been walking around town for a month. But she'd never strayed from the path before. But that night, as if possessed, Alice found her way to the sea. She'd never been there before. She hadn't even known it was there. It was a private little place that was near empty. It felt, strangely, like stepping into a different world. The bustle of the city was muted, and the wind in her hair felt like a melody. The cold bit at her lips and the nip of her nose.
It was empty, except for one girl.
She was wearing a short white slip-dress that stopped half-way down her thigh. She had long blonde hair that went down her back like silk, or fresh snow. Her skin was translucent, almost blue. But oh, her eyes. They were already looking at her when she met them. Alice swore, for just a second, that she fell into them. Their color matched the sea next to them, glistening like water. The girl smiled when she saw Alice, like they were old friends. Her full lips curving around a greeting.
"Hello," She said when Alice had gotten close enough without even realizing it.
"Do I know you?"
It was a stupid question to ask. It felt so oddly inadequate. The girl kept her small smile like a secret, but she let her eyes skip over Alice and focused it on the skyline ahead of them. A wave crashed onto the shore.
"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" Alice laughed a bit, because it was a strange question to ask. She found that she couldn't bring herself to look away from the girl. As if the second she looked away she'd disappear.
"Yeah. I guess so."
The girl gave her a knowing glace, "You didn't even look." Alice doesn't deny it. She speaks again a moment later. "Come on then, let's get closer. You can hardly see the waves from back here."
It wasn't true, Alice could see the waves just fine. She'd wondered if the girl was cold. She must've been. The girl charged on anyway, walking and moving on without her. Alice let her. She didn't know how to tell her to stop, to tell her to wait.
Wait. Just one second. I'm not ready yet.
The girl had spun around, tilting her head. "Are you scared Alice?"
Alice ignored the question, and she also ignored how the girl knew her name. Instead, she asked, "What's your name?" Because it had only felt fair. An eye for an eye and all that.
"Narcissa."
As if pulled, Alice followed her to the edge of the shore. The water just barely brushing the end of her boots. Narcissa kept going, swimming like she was born for it in the violent water. She didn't look back, and all Alice could think was,
You're going to catch your death in there.
She didn't know why that hurt.
❀
Like an addict, Alice felt herself drawn to the sea. It was all she thought about. All that kept her sane. From the minute she woke up she was counting the second until she could sneak away. It made her feel guilty, exponentially. Because her son won a war, and all he got back was his father and a mother who couldn't even live for him. He got a mother who lived for clandestine meetings by the water. When she would close her eyes she saw white hair and a white dress. She saw full lips and an intelligent smile.
She knew, whenever it rained or snowed, that Narcissa would be there. She wasn't there on clear days. The first time Alice had tried, and came up on an empty shore, she'd cried. She blamed it internally on being fragile since she woke up, crying over silly things. But Alice knew in her heart that it was more. Because she'd cried again a second time when she'd tried to meet Narcissa during the day. Nobody was there. She never tried to question Narcissa about this. It felt wrong. Oddly, like a betrayal. Like she'd be breaking the peace that they had. Maybe she was just scared. She was always scared then, she thinks. Scared that Narcissa would disappear. That because her skin was translucent and her eyes were bright that she wasn't real.
In hindsight, there was a lot she ignored when it came to Narcissa.
She didn't know her last name. Or where she came from. How old she was, who she was.
But Alice didn't know much then, so she'd figured it okay.
When she visited Narcissa, it always went nearly the same. She'd find her sitting down on the sand, arms folded on her knees, eyes on the water. She'd smile at Alice, extend her hand, and pull it away at the last second. They'd talk. They'd dance around subjects that they were scared to approach. Then, eventually, Narcissa would lead them to the sea. She'd ask Alice if she was ready. If it was time. Alice didn't know what she meant in her head, but her body always answered 'no' for her. It was one of those things that she just knew. She wasn't ready to go wherever Narcissa went. She knew that wherever Narcissa was going was somewhere she couldn't follow.
But Narcissa always came back to her.
Whenever she could.
So Alice grew to hate the days where it didn't rain. She cursed the sunny sky and prayed for snow. Daylight was a curse that brought sad smiles and pitying eyes. She tried, in a distant way, to make the most of it. But that's the thing, isn't it? There wasn't anything to make the most of. All her friends were dead. Everyday the healers, Frank, Neville and his friends, they supplied her with the stories of the people she used to know. The things they did in school. The parties she'd been at that she couldn't remember. The war they all fought as teenagers. She didn't remember it. It was all gone. She was grieving an entire generation of people she didn't know.
Most days she barely left her bed until nightfall. Neville and Frank fussed over her, said she was sick. She didn't know if she was. She didn't care. They'd bring her tea. She wouldn't drink it.
Most days she stayed in bed and read books. From her mums library. The mother she doesn't remember. Apparently she'd owned a library in Wales, where Alice grew up. When she'd died her books were moved to Neville's flat. It was nice that he'd kept them all those years. They were well read, touched by everybody who's checked them out. Most of them were worn, with cracked spines and margin notes. But she liked them. Reading was nice. Better than anything else the mind healers had her try. Mostly because it helped feel like she knew things.
She almost found it funny. How she could remember different potion ingredient lists, or facts about the goblin rebellion, but she couldn't picture the faces of her friends.
Most days she read until it was night. And then she'd disappear.
❀
"Where did you get your bracelet?" She'd asked one day. They were sitting down on the sand, snow caught in their hair. Stuck in their eyelashes.
Narcissa always wore this bracelet around her wrist, just a little too big for her. It looked like it was made from twine. String, maybe. Woven together in green and red. She always thought it was strange thing for her to wear. It stood out on her skin, different from her pale complexation and the white dress she always wore. Everything about Narcissa was so muted. As if she was completely devote of color entirely. Until you looked at her eyes. Oh, her eyes.
"Where did you get yours?" Narcissa rebutted after a moment. She'd looked pensive. Sad, almost.
Alice always forgot about her bracelet. Nobody'd asked her about it before. They all knew that she didn't know either. She'd supposed it was strange as well. From what she'd been told she grew up poor.
"I actually never thought about it," She fiddled with the cold diamonds staring up at her. "I'm not sure."
Narcissa nodded, like that made perfect sense to her. "I got mine from somebody I loved once. In another life," She'd waved her hand dismissively.
Alice waited a moment, feeling a sense of desperation. "Tell me about them."
The other girl laughed a humorless laugh that bordered cruel, and continued. "They were the best person I've ever met. They had this way, of loving, like it was easy. Like they breathed love. Their favorite color was green, even though they told everybody it was red. They drank so much tea, even though I told them so many times that it couldn't have been healthy. And oh- they had the largest sweet tooth you've ever seen. They could've eaten for ten people easily. They liked Greek Mythology and muggle music. Plants too- so many plants. They knew everything, really. Much more than I ever did. They were a bit of a mess, a lot of the time. But back then everybody was. But they were real. They were the realest thing I've ever felt. Real, and bright, and far too good for me."
She'd smiled at her, "I wish I could've met them." She didn't really know what else to say. She'd never been good with words.
Narcissa's expression shut down, but her voice betrayed her. "Yes. I do too." She'd said in a broken whisper, "Come on, let's get closer to the water."
❀
The floodgates broke with spring the second year. It was a normal morning, spent with a book in her lap. It was so odd, how she'd never connected the dots before. She was reading a book on magical history, letting the information wash over her like an old friend. She came across a chapter on the Black family.
Walphurga Black, Orion Black, Sirius Black, Regulus Black, Druella Black, Cygnus Black, Bellatrix Black, Narcissa Black, Andromeda Bla-
Narcissa Black.
Narcissa Black.
Narcissa, the girl by the sea, is Narcissa Black.
Bellatrix Blacks sister.
❀
It rained four days later, and she couldn't stop herself from going.
Alice and Narcissa didn't argue, even if she'd expected it. Narcissa had been different that night. At the mention of her sister. Like the glass in her stoic interior had cracked. Her eyes were teary. She didn't say much. They went to the water. But this time, Narcissa had begged her to come with her.
They stood face to face, inches apart. The water was unusually still. Narcissa stood in it, Alice just outside.
"It's not cold. If you're scared." She attempted a smile.
Alice shook her head, unable to move. "I'm not worried about it being cold."
"Yes, well. You were always the reckless one." Narcissa laughed.
"So we did know each other?"
"Yes. A long time ago."
Alice nodded, a bit numb. She left Narcissa, and she went to bed.
❀
The next morning she woke up with her memories.
She shouldn't've have had them. She was told, over and over again that it would've happened within the first year. Gradually at that. People don't just wake up with cured amnesia.
But she had.
She'd woken up, and she knew that Narcissa was dead.
The pain was swift. It was something that washed over her, as if she'd already known. In a way it made sense.
Narcissa didn’t talk much. She rarely smiled, but when she did it put all the stars to shame. Alice, when she thinks about it, finds that she’s not surprised that Narcissa smiles more in death. Life as a whole always felt like it couldn’t contain a soul like hers. Like the Earth wasn’t ready for Narcissa. She was an entire ocean contained in a glass bottle. It only seemed fair that when the lid broke her smile washed up with the tide.
She didn’t understand it before, how Narcissa said she’d like to die. The world wasn’t built for woman like her. The ones who hide everything. The ones who don’t give away their souls.
Alice tried and failed to understand Narcissa for most of her life. She used to curse that, but she grew to wish she'd cherished it instead.
Remembering what they were to each other was the hardest part. Remembering Narcissa in more than just blonde hair and a white dress. Knowing her in stolen kisses and looks that lasted too long. In fights under the stars and her hair fanned out on silk bedsheets. She'd felt, in her soul, that she wasn't alive anymore. Even though she'd seen her. Talked to her. It didn't matter. Half her soul was gone.
She went out to the sea that same morning. The sun poured from an opening in the cloud-covered sky. And below it, like an angel, was Narcissa. She was standing this time, facing the water. She was closer to it than she usually was. As if she knew that she'd have to leave.
"The sun is out," She said when Alice got close enough. "I'm assuming that means you know?"
Alice nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"
The other girl gave her a sad smile. "I lived decades without you. I lived through two wars and it still remains the hardest thing I've ever done. Half the soul, and all that. After the war, when I didn't have anything to fight for anymore, I couldn't take it. Is it so wrong to not have wanted that for you?"
And she understood. More than she should've. More than she wanted too. She wanted to get on her knees and beg, to scream and cry and demand that Narcissa stay. But she knew it wouldn't work. Even when they'd had each other she could never follow where Narcissa was destined. Could never make her stay.
"This is it, isn't it?"
"Yes. I'm afraid our time has run out."
Narcissa left for the water without looking back. She didn't ask Alice to follow her.
It wasn't her time yet.
❀
When she explains it to Neville he asks a lot of questions. She answers them, as best as she can. It's hard. Because it's all blood and wounds that haven't healed. But he deserves to know. She tells him the full story a year after she got her memories back. He'd been patient with her, because all she'd do is shut down whenever asked. But she finds that she's ready.
It's hard. It still hurts to breathe sometimes.
But she finds that she's okay, because she was given a chance to love Narcissa Black twice. And most days that's enough.
Narcissa’s spirit can’t visit her anymore, because she’s done all that she needed to do. She gave Alice her memories. She gave them a chance to love each other again. She's not here anymore, but that doesn’t mean that she’s gone. Alice still sees her, everywhere. She sees Narcissa in the droplets of rain that cling to the window, in the tides rolling over the shore. She’s in the air when coffee is brewing and when classical music plays she’s the urge in Alice’s bones to dance.
And Alice knows, more than she’s ever known anything, that she will see Narcissa again. Narcissa lived for years while she waited for her, so Alice can be patient too. But she knows that when it’s her time Narcissa will be there waiting for her. If not in this afterlife, in the next.
Maybe they’ll reincarnate as better creatures, in a simpler world.
Maybe they’ll be the ocean, and the wind carrying it forward.
Neville sits with his knees under his chin like he's still a boy, and the sight makes her smile. He asks his final question, the one she knew was coming.
"I ha- I have to ask, Narcissa Black and you- What were you?"
She thinks it's a loaded question. She could answer with the way they met. How she just knew. She could say they were enemies, that they hated each other. That Narcissa made her cry more times than she could count. She could say they were friends, and that Narcissa was the only person who ever knew her. She could say they were lovers, she could talk about the bracelets they'd traded instead of rings. The promise they'd made to stay together forever, even while they were apart.
But no words could really encapsulate what she and Narcissa were.
They were everything, and nothing, and something in-between. So instead, she just shrugs and says the only thing that feels adequate;
"Soulmates."