Remember to Forget

harmony5

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 18/06/2008
Last Updated: 18/06/2008
Status: completed

"But if you forget everything, you won't have anything left to remember." Harry is outraged by a certain change in events, and again, Hermione is there for him to fall back on. Only this time, things are different. One-Shot. Please R&R!

Chapters

1. Remember to Forget

1. Remember to Forget

Remember to Forget

“PRECIOUS MEMORIES RETRIEVED!”

“On one of my recent expeditions, my lucky self just happened to come across my dear old friend Mrs. Argilla. So, I sat down with her and not only enjoyed a cup of tea, but I uncovered crucial information that no one knew existed. According to Mrs. Argilla, she was the only one to witness and remember in fine detail the horrid night of October 31st when James and Lily Potter were killed. From standing about 30 feet away, Mrs. Argilla claims that her view of the attack was clear and vivid, and something she wants to forget. But right here, right now I have the opportunity to share this memory with you, as she has permitted me to extract the memory and watch it through the use of a Pensieve. It was over a decade ago that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named approached the Potter's house down in Godric's Hollow, and committed the murders that will tragically stay in our minds for ever.

It is a privilege for a mere reporter such as myself to have come across a story like this, and an even bigger privilege to be able to have witnesses the memory. Young James and Lily Potter were seen as kind and loving people, the parents of the now 17-year-old Harry James Potter, the illustrious Boy-Who-Lived, the only survivor of You-Know-Who's attack. Thanks to my charm and dedication, I have pulled some strings, and Mrs. Argilla is allowing me to put her memory on public display at Prescott's Wizarding Cinema in Diagon Alley for all of your eyes to see. The horrendous half-hour memory will be playing from April 1st-22nd. Please put a stop to your curiousity and drop by, come and find out what really occurred that chilly October evening. Your favourite columnist,

Rita Skeeter

~*~*~

“Precious? She thinks this is bloody PRECIOUS?!?” Harry, enraged, threw the Prophet violently on the long Gryffindor, spilling some drinks in the process.

“Harry, mate, it can't be that bad.” Ron said, scanning the article.

“Yes, yes it can Ron! Don't you get it? She's going to be making money from people by making them go watch my parents go and get murdered. It's...it's cruel! It's WRONG!” Harry's shouts echoed throughout the Hall and students of all houses were staring at him cautiously.

Harry stood up, grabbed the paper and stormed away. Where was Hermione when he needed her? Overwhelmed by anger, Harry subconsciously found himself walking out of the castle, down and through the grounds, and towards the lake, to the tree hanging heavily with willow leaves. His parent's tree.

A slight breeze ruffled his hair as he sat quietly under the tree, his knees pulled up to his chin, angry tears falling out of his eyes, the emerald lit with rage. His hair settled in an unruly position, raven black and reshuffled toward one side thanks to the lofty spring weather. He wiped his eyes with his sleeves. He just couldn't understand. Who would pay money to go watch Voldemort kill people? His parents for that matter? It was disgusting, but he knew people would go see it anyway just for the thrill of it. And that really bugged him. After all he had been through, after defeating Voldemort, after overcoming his depression, after trying to live a normal life, people still had to torment him. Hadn't he grieved enough?

A part of him wanted to go see it too. He wanted to see people's reactions when he showed up to watch the death of his parents, he wanted to surprise people, but most of all, he wanted the truth. In all of his 17 years, Harry had been lied to more than the average person in their lifetime. He needed to know the reality, what really happened, if it was raining or calm, or what his house looked like. Or what his parents looked like. The sky was a clear, deep blue, hardly a cloud in sight; perfect for flying. Flying. That would help him think.

“Accio broom!” Harry aimed his wand at the castle and waited. Within half of a minute, he caught his broom in his hand, and kicked off the ground. He was supposed to be in class now, but part of him didn't care. He soared over Hogwarts before he began circling the Quidditch pitch. He let the cooler air envelope him; he closed his eyes and let the pain drift away. The wind whipped his hair around, his robe billowing behind him. He kept flying and flying until he broke a sweat. He immediately felt chilled because of the crisp air above the clouds. Being so high up, Harry never noticed the storm clouds coming in, and before he knew it, a downpour began. He pulled his hood over his head and began his descent through the icy rain. It beat down hard on his back, soaking through his robes and puddling in his shoes. It took him only a moment to realize that the rain was causing his broom to go out of control.

~*~*~

Hermione walked out of the library and headed down to the Great Hall. She had been studying early in the morning for an exam she was having later in the day in Charms. She heard rapid footsteps coming up behind her and she turned around to see Ron sprinting towards her.

“Hermione! Read this!” Ron shoved the article into Hermione's hands and waited impatiently as she scanned it over.

“Ugh! That woman is evil!” She cried. She decoded the look in Ron's eyes. “Where is he?”

“He stormed out of breakfast and my guess is that he's outside. Except it's pouring right now, so wherever he is, he'll be soaked to the bone.” Ron explained.

“Thanks Ron!” Hermione, still clutching the article, threw her hood over he head and tossed her book bag to Ron. “I'll see you later!” She ran down the main staircase and through the main doors before disappearing out of sight.

Think, Hermione, think. If I were Harry, where would I be? The rain splattered off of her and she surveyed the grounds from the main courtyard. Willow tree? She squinted down at the tree by the lake, rain blurring her vision. Nope. Wait. The sky was really clear earlier this morning from the library window. What if he-oh no! Hermione gasped and slipped and slid over the wet grass until she reached the Quidditch pitch a while later.

“Harry? HARRY?” she shouted over the sheets of crashing rain. Her eyes widened when she saw the plummeting flash of jet black falling from the sky. Harry.

Hermione sprinted onto the pitch, and shielded her eyes as she stared up at Harry's descending figure.

“HARRY! Hold on!!” she cried, unheard in the merciless rain.

~*~*~

Harry swerved violently through the rain as he attempted to right himself before he crashed, but his broom was no longer affected by anything. Harry was free falling toward the pitch, and no one would be there to help him. Within a few seconds Harry could see the ground below him. He felt like he was floating, in a dream. Just before he gave up hope, he heard it. Someone was calling his name.

“HARRY! Hold on!!” The screech echoed through his muddled brain, confusion, and drowsiness sweeping over him. His eyes drifted closed before he snapped them open at a shock of cold. The grass. His head smacked the ground hard, the rain still pounding down on him.

“Harry!” He shot his eyes open again, fighting unconsciousness, and looked up at the owner of the voice. Hermione.

“Hermione?” he mumbled weakly. “You...you saved me...”

~*~*~

People were talking around him. He recognized the voices. Ron, Hermione, Madam Pomfrey.

“Will he be okay?” he heard Hermione ask worriedly.

“Oh, of course. Just a minor concussion is all. And I've practically mended his fingers already.”

“Thanks Madam Pomfrey. You should probably go assist that second year...he's in a bad way.” Ron pointed down the room towards a suffering student.

“Harry? Mate?” Ron asked, leaning over his friend.

“I don't understand why he was flying in that weather anyway.” Hermione grumbled.

“Because there was nothing else to do.” Harry pried his eyes open to look at Ron and Hermione, taking in their relieved smiles at his comment.

“Harry, I tried to help you, but...” Hermione began apologizing.

“No. Hermione, if you hadn't been there, I'd still be out on the pitch unconscious. Thanks so much, I owe you.” Harry looked at the concerned look gracing her face. “I'm fine, really.” He pulled himself up on his elbows.

“Good. I was really worried for a minute there.” Ron grinned and clapped Harry on the back. “Glad to have you back alive, Harry.”

“Thanks, Ron.” Harry smirked.

After some more friendly chatter, Madam Pomfrey ushered Ron and Hermione out of the Hospital Wing, saying that Harry needed rest. They reluctantly left, wishing their best friend well.

“See you in the morning, Harry!” Hermione waved to him, and in one fleeting glance, she was gone, a flash of her golden brown curls disappearing into the corridor.

~*~*~

The early morning light filtered in through the windows of the Hospital Wing, basking Harry in the warm sunlight. The storm had cleared, leaving the grounds damp and muddy. He slowly glanced around the room. Someone was sleeping on a bed with the medical curtains drawn around it a little ways away, but other than that, the room was empty. Madam Pomfrey obviously hadn't woken up yet. The creaking of the door at the far end of the room startled Harry. Hermione cautiously tip-toed in, and smiled when she saw that harry was awake.

“Harry!” she whispered, “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks. What are you doing here so early?”

“I came to see you. I know about the article, Harry. Rita Skeeter is a cruel woman, and she had no right to do such a thing. I know it's really bothering you.” she spoke softly.

“More than you know.” Harry whispered back.

“What's going on in here?” Harry and Hermione had not heard Madam Pomfrey exit her chamber, so they were startled at her sudden appearance.

“Hermione just came to see how I was doing.” Harry explained.

“Well you two are being far too loud. I guess you can leave now anyway Mr. Potter. My potions would have finished working hours ago.” She shooed the out, making sure Harry could walk straight, before locking them out of the wing to let the other student sleep.

Hermione lead Harry outside, across the dewy grass, and motioned for him to sit next to her under a tree. Harry slowly sat down, knowing that she was going to bring up the thing that he didn't want to talk about.

“Harry, I know you don't want to talk about this, but I think you should. Tell me what's bothering you, besides the article. What's making you so upset?”

Harry sighed. “I guess the fact that people are going to pay money to see my parents get killed, or that I had absolutely no idea that any of this was going on. I just wish I could forget. That we could all forget.”

Hermione thought for a moment. “But don't you want to remember any of the good things that have happened?” She asked softly.

“No.” Hermione seemed taken aback by his response. “Because every time something good has happened to me, something bad has always happened right after.”Harry was letting his emotions grab a hold of him. He took a deep breath.

“But if you forget everything, you won't have anything left to remember.”

And in that instant, Harry realized that all of the years he had spent trying to forget everything, he could've been spending the time remembering the things that really mattered.

“Well what should I remember now? What's worth remembering?”

Hermione looked into Harry's eyes. The pain was clear in his gaze. His emerald eyes were darker; they reflected a certain loss, a forgotten smile.

“Remember me.” She spoke sincerely. Harry hadn't realized that they had moved closer; they were only about a five inches apart. Hermione, with a burst of bravery, closed the gap between them and kissed him softly. It was gentle, yet full of pent up emotion between them.

“Remember that.” Nothing else was said. She stood up quietly, smiled at his shocked expression, and walked away.

From that moment, Harry knew. He knew that he always wanted to remember that. And that he would always want to remember the similar moments in the years to come. And forget the hard moments in between. Except the things that really mattered. Those would be worth remembering.

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