1. Eidetic

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Eidetic

Summary: [part 4 in the Kismet Series; can be read alone]: how had the fates forsaken me this way?

There was a time when I was so sure that the fates would stand by me no matter what. There was a time when I was so sure that the world would come to my aid, save me from this atrocious parallel universe that I had found myself immersed in—trapped in.

I don't know when, where, or how it all went wrong—I'm just as lost as everyone else as to how the deities could have gotten it all so horribly mixed up. We were meant for one another, I know that much—I've had all the signs laid out before me. The cards have proclaimed it, the superstitions assured me that there might be some truth to it, and the tea leaves practically chanted a song of accord, reassuring me of the legitimacy of all those prior signs.

So where did it all go wrong?

Merlin, I was so sure that I had their protection—that they'd stand by me despite all of the things that they'd done to muck thing up between Harry and myself. I was so sure that… that it was just a necessary step, to prepare him for me—for our love. I'll even be honest and admit there will never be a time when I'll doubt the fact that He and I were made for one another, meant to be, kismet. But it just hurts so much to know this certainty that everyone remains blind to…

I remember when I had walked down that long aisle on my wedding day under the pretense of entering an “undying state of perpetual bliss.” I remember walking down that aisle expecting him to realize what was so clear. I remember watching him by Neville's side, waiting for him to make a move towards the right path. I remember his gaze fixed slowly on that damn, manipulative, bitch.

And, lastly, I remember my heart breaking as I was tricked into a corner, coerced into accepting Neville's hand in marriage when He actually didn't object.

There are so many memories running through my mind—a lifetime full, literally. All of these damning images are flying before my eyes, further tearing me apart with each second I am forced to watch the horrific sight.

I remember it all and it kills me more and more.

The picture of giving birth to my first, and only, child, Clementine, comes to mind. Something that should have been so happy was dulled by the fact that He was happy for me, that He saw nothing wrong with the fact that I was giving birth to another man's child.

It all culminates into this terrible collage that's engraved in my mind—constantly taunting me, constantly reminding me of what I've lost, constantly forcing me to bear witness to my past sins.

In this collage I see myself having to sit by Hermione's side, holding her hand, as I utter these disgustingly loving words to soothe her as she awaits Harry—my Harry. I see Neville leaving me after only two years of marriage, realizing that my heart never was and could never be his because I'd given it away, fully, at the mere age of eleven. I see a daughter who should have had the surname Potter. I see betrayal and abandonment as I recall all the ways that the Gods have ruined me—making me unable to loom at another man for the entirety of my fifty years of life because they had shown me an unparallel Eden that makes me incapable of ever settling for less.

I've been in the wrong in the past, I'll confess to hat; I've tried to steal a woman's husband without any remorse, I've broken a man's heart, I've prayed for the death of a woman whom I called a friend, and I've lied, a lot.

But let it be noted, commemorated, that I've sinned because they told me to—because they promised that, despite the fact that it might not appear so to the naked eye, the world really isn't always black and white. They assured me that I would be repaid for my troubles, so where has that stalled reimbursement gone? Was it held up by some lost owl? Or… or was it accidentally sent to the wrong girl?

It's… it's all just so bloody mucked up and irrevocably so, isn't it?

But, nevertheless, I do still hold on to my infallible belief in the extent of our limitless love. Kindred souls, that's what we have—they were destined to be aligned, just never had the opportunity for it… but they will, I know it. Despite the way that the fortunes have forsaken the clearly outlined path to eternal bliss, I know that our time will come, with or without their help. It's meant to be, I know it.

Fin.

p.s. Eidetic: "pertaining to the faculty of projecting images," 1924, from Ger. eidetisch, coined by Ger. psychologist Erich Jaensch (1883-1940), from Gk. eidetikos "pertaining to images," also "pertaining to knowledge," from eidesis "knowledge," from eidos "form, shape" [source: Online Etymology Dictionary, ï¿½ 2001 Douglas Harper]

further reading:

Part V

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