Chapter V: In a Moment's Hatred
--

"Years of love have been forgot in the hatred of a minute."
~Edgar Allen Poe
"The company's called the Pfitzer Medical Relief Organization," Harry continued informing them. "According to what I was able to dig up, they `specialize in providing the relief that no one else can deliver by providing the perfect potions to assist your psyche!'" he read off the screen with a disbelieving scoff and shake of his head. "Blimey, what the hell is she up to?" he asked as he threw his head into his hands, groaning.
"But what a shiter," Ron grumpily muttered. "How does running away from something help someone?"
"Forget about that, it's hardly all that important right now!" Neville snapped. "Do you have any information on then? Anything that could be a lead?"
Harry heaved a heavy breath as he pulled his head up so he could look at the screen. "Um… no, just a basic customer service contact number. It could take hours to get patched through to the right person though," Harry explained. "I'll forward this to the trainees at the office and have them do some recon. It should take an hour max for me to get a direct number since they have resources that I can access without being in the ministry. It should take them an hour, tops."
Neville nodded. "Okay, good."
"Do you think Pfitzer can get us a number or address to the Dream Foundation?" Ron asked.
"Even if not, they can probably give us an idea as to what Hermione's up to," Neville offered.
Harry shook his head, clenching his jaw as he typed a message to the office. "Not an option anymore," he told them. "Shit's hit the fan and I don't know what hell she's done to muck all of this up, but I'll bet we're losing time."
A pause passed before anyone said anything, but Ron was the first to break the silence. "What did you tell them then?"
"Nothing, just that I needed product and distribution information is all, they don't need to know anything else," Harry told him before snapping his computer shut with a firm and commanding hand. "I'm going to go out into the balcony in her room… I need some air," he told them before stalking out of the room.
--
"The thing I loved most about us was that it never had to be about the overdramatized romantic gestures. I'd always loathed that sort of random romance that had to be planned. It wasn't organic, too forced and constructed for me to construe it as natural," Hermione admitted.
"What would you consider romantic then?"
"Imperfection… loving someone for those stupid faults that get on your nerves, but you still can't imagine living without. Realizing that you love a person so much that you genuinely want to listen and read between the lines, that you want to know all of the nuances and neuroses. Caring. That's sexy to me."
"And did Harry do that? Did he give you that?"
"Better than I ever imagined possible," Hermione divulged, her voice choked as she made the admission.
"How so?" the voice asked, curious.
"Like… he didn't just know my favorite ice cream, but which company to buy from and how long before the expiration date I considered best. The latter… it's so nonsensical, so unimportant, given that I'd eat it regardless, but he'd still take the time to check that it was at least three weeks before expiration."
"It's the little things that count, right?" the voice commented with a small chuckle.
"Yeah," Hermione breathed out. "And he was aces at that."
"It's rare that you'll ever find someone like that."
"I… I know," Hermione admitted. "I didn't think about it before, but you are right… you're absolutely correct."
"You sound regretful rather than in awe of my stupendous genius" the voice lightly teased.
Hermione laughed. It was a short, but welcome reprieve. "You have an in."
"Mmm," the voice hummed.
"I really have when you do that."
"I know."
"Good."
"Hermione, tell me what you loved most about being with him."
"Why?"
"Because I said so, and you have to," the voice informed her, and without the slightest bit of hesitation.
The incessant knocking on my door was giving me the worst headache imaginable, I swear! It was terrible and he just wouldn't give up. Instead, he shouted, too.
"Hermione, I'm not leaving until you talk to me!"
"Harry, leave me alone!" I screamed in reply. I just couldn't understand why he was so wholly incapable of giving me some space.
I simply wanted to wallow in my self-misery, have a chance to let go a bit. So, I promptly informed him of my intent, screaming at the top of my lungs so as to ensure he heard me. It wasn't my classiest moment, and hopefully not my defining one. "Let me just have some space, Harry. I just want some time to myself."
"Fuck that, Hermione," he spat. "I've given you two weeks of your precious space and they've been hell! I'll be damned if I let you tell me you like that. Open the fucking door."
How was I supposed to react to that? As prolific as I was, it was so terribly romantic, too. He wanted me… he needed me. "What more could I want?" I asked myself. So, I unbolted the door and let him in.
"Finally," he breathed out, immediately pulling my body to his with a vice like grip. He kissed me so passionately that my toes even curled a bit in the way that they always do when you have a really fantastic first kiss. He could always bring me tingles like that. I don't know what it was about him, but he was so in tune with my body that it was preposterous! No man should understand my body better than I do even.
"Harry," I whimpered. "Harry… you can't just do this. You… you don't know what I want."
Harry, however, merely grunted in reply, tightening his hold on me. He held on to me as if for dear life and I found it excruciating. "Just give me a chance… let me try to make you happy. I can. I promise. I'll fix things, I will. I'll work less hours, be here more… I won't take you for granted again."
"I know you can make me happy, but it's not that. It was never about your work or anything, Harry, honest!"
"Then what's it about?" he asked, pulling away a smidge so that he could look me in the eyes.
"I just… I really think it's best for us to be apart. We both… we've been together for so long now, and… well we don't even really know what else is out there either," I rambled on, stuttering as I spoke. A deep rouge crept cross my face as I ducked my head, that explanation wasn't going according to plan in the slightest. In my head I'd sounded far more eloquent and reasonable, but in reality… well when brought to fruition it was a train wreck.
It was the worst thing I'd ever had to do and the pressure was getting to me. Still, however, I was convinced that it was for the best. He didn't know it, or realize it, but he didn't look at me the same way anymore. He really didn't. It was clear that he didn't think of me in the same way and I needed him to become cognizant of that fact. It was best for both of us-like jumping a sinking ship, I suppose.
"Hermione," he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I just… I thought things were good between us. Really good."
"They were, I just-"
"Then why?" Harry pushed. "Why give up? Why not let things run their course? Why not give this a real shot? I think we have something pretty damn brilliant here, I honestly do. I'm not ready to let go of spectacular, Hermione."
"Harry," I sighed. "I know that it might seem that way now, but-"
"No buts," he hushed me, shaking his head. "And it is that way, no doubts about it. Come on, Hermione," he goaded. "Don't make me beg because you know I will if I have to. I honestly will."
"I… I don't want to make you beg," I admitted.
"Then don't. Give this… us… another try."
It took me a good five minutes or so to finally muster up a reply-the one that I wanted to give, but needed to avoid. In the end, I couldn't even bring myself to say the word, but merely nodded in response.Â
"Why are you doing this?" Hermione couldn't help, but ask when she finished regaling the voice.
"Doing what?"
"Making me show you these memories. I just… I don't see why it's necessary," she told him. Her throat felt dry and she had to force the words out. It killed her to have to relive those moments. They were so beautiful and reminded her exactly what it was hat she was running away from. It brought the weight of her decisions into light in a way she wasn't comfortable with.
She had no shame in admitting that, especially if it meant she could avoid having to re-experience those memories.
"I'm not doing it to hurt you," the voice replied. "In all honesty, none of this will even matter in the long run. This whole ordeal you're experiencing with me won't impact you in the slightest, at least as far as you're aware. You'll forget all of this in a matter of hours. This is just a momentary pain."
"Doesn't mean it hurts any less," Hermione argued.
"I know," the voice assured her. "But it's pivotal. For your maturation, it's crucial. You need to understand that I have to be able to see what it was that made you who you are. If we don't do this, I can send you back now… I can send you back, but you have to be aware of the fact that you'll be broken. More so than you are now, too, because you'll be left at the emotional maturity of a shy eleven-year-old girl."
--
Half an hour later, a ringing was finally heard. Harry grabbed for his phone as fast as he possibly could.
"Mister Potter, sir?" a voice was heard from the other line.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"We've managed to find someone we think might be useful to you at Pfitzer."
"You think"
"Well he's head of the sales and distribution department so if anyone would know where the products went and what they do, it'd be him."
"Good. Name and contact information?" Harry asked, immediately reaching for a pad and pen to take notes with.
"Frank Newman. Company code 7FL and personnel code O23."
"Right, thanks," Harry distractedly replied as he penned he words before snapping his WiziCell shut. "I got the contact information, so I'll be in the other room for the call if something comes up," he announced to Ron and Neville as he moved to collect his things.
"Why the hell do you have to go into the other room to make a blasted call?" Ron asked, incredulous.
"Because you'll just keep interrupting with a comment or to ask me what's going on," Harry dully informed him. "But don't worry, I'll be sure to take good notes," he assured Neville who had a perturbed look on his face after Harry's proclamation, even motioning to his notepad as he spoke.
"Fine," Neville reluctantly nodded. "But you better not screw this up, Potter. I get that you have to be the one to do this since you're the auror and calling from the ministry line and all, but still…"
"Trust the savior of the wizarding world a bit, won't you?" Harry dryly sniped before turning and walking out of the room.
As he walked towards Hermione's bedroom he took out his phone. "Connect to company 7FL."
He was met with a beep before a voice was a heard. "Connected to the Pfitzer Medical Relief Organization, what personnel code do you wish to be connected to?"
"O23," Harry ordered as he walked through Hermione's door, throwing his things onto her bed before taking a seat on it himself.
A moment later, he was met with a voice. "Jack Newman here, how can I help Mister Potter?"
"Auror Potter," Harry corrected. "And I was calling to ask about a product of yours."
"Hmmm," Newman hummed. "I'm not sure how much of an asset I can be, but I'll try."
"For a case I came across some information that informed me that you license the potion Memoria Novus Ordo to the Make a Dream Foundation."
"I'm not too fond of the fact that the ministry has access to that," Newman admitted with a chuckle. "But yes, it's true," he then confirmed. "And how is this at all relevant to you?"
"I was hoping that you could provide me some information on this potion and foundation."
"Well the potion's an amazing one really. It can wipe a memory, person, or any element in general from someone's memory and all without even altering their psyche in the slightest bit."
"Sounds presumptuous," Harry doubtfully commented.
"I know," Newman smarmily agreed, or at least Harry found it to be so. "But it's not. Our success rate is astounding, and it doesn't even damage a person in the slightest. This potion's brilliant; on its own, it manages to reconstruct the entirety of the individual's memory so as to make up for the missing component."
"Make up for it?"
"Yes, it's of the utmost importance! By eliminating something you eliminate all traces of its effect on you, you have to compensate for this. So the potion rebuilds the memory so as to substitute those moments with others that provide the same formative elements so as to ensure the person's proper maturation. By all counts, a patient is the same person they were before they ever even took the potion… sans whatever it was they chose to forget, that is."
"Cor," Harry quietly muttered. "Sounds… brilliant," he commented, struggling for an adjective before finally settling on the one chosen for him by Newman.
"I know," Newman assured.
"And the Make a Dream Foundation?" Harry then asked.
"I'm afraid I really can't say anything without a warrant," was his reply, and it even had a tinge of regret. "There are privacy contracts that I have to abide by, I hope you understand."
"I do, and I was prepared for that. I'm not interested in your dealings with them," Harry assured him. "That's the least of my worried. But this is your sole licensed provider in the UK and they've come across our radar for a few reasons that need to be looked into so I was hoping you could provide me with an address."
"Well I'd have to check my records to see if I even have any…"
"I have time," Harry immediately informed him.
--
"You really love him," the voice cut in.
"Yeah," Hermione reluctantly disclosed.
"And he loves you, too; it's so obvious."
"I guess," Hermione admitted with a sigh.
"You guess?" the voice asked, and regardless of how just he may have been to note it, Hermione didn't appreciate his undertone of condescension.
"Fine," Hermione begrudgingly replied in a clipped tone. "Yes, I do."
"Then why are you even here?"
"I've already told you!" she huffed, disbelievingly.
"I know," the voice assured her. "But it baffles me why you'd go to such an extreme. This is essentially brain damage that you're voluntarily inflicting upon yourself."
"You… you wouldn't understand," she murmured.
"Try me."
"I'm… I've always been the strong one, the one that others could rely on… the one who would bear anything for the sake of a loved one… I'm strong, I know I am," she informed him. "But when it comes to my emotions… when it gets personal… I falter then. I wholly invest myself in those situations and I don't have the strength to pull myself back like I can when it's a physical pain. I… I guess I'm weak," she finished with a whisper, her voice progressively dying as she continued with her explanation.
"Admirable trait, to care that much."
"Save for the fact that it can kill you," Hermione retorted. "If… if I were to do anything else, I'd just go back to him, to the way I already was. I'd always go back. This is the only solution."
"Sounds sad… a bit pathetic even."
"It does? You sound surprised though… I'd assume you deal with situations such as this on a daily basis."
"No," the voice informed her. "Usually users aren't this self-destructive."
"I'm not self-destructive!" Hermione scoffed, disbelievingly. The mere thought of that left her utterly appalled. She couldn't comprehend that… that… well whatever the hell he was-that wasn't important anyway-he was wrong.
She was sure of it, a hundred percent so. Well maybe not that certain, but she was a student of knowledge and science so, really, reaching such a caliber of surety would be wholly impossible for a person like her. Still though… possibly ninety percent or so, and that was pretty astounding on a comparative scale!
"I'm not wrong," the voice intoned. "And ninety percent isn't as much as you'd like to believe."
If they could, her eyes would have widened. Instead, she was left unattractively sputtering like an imbecile.
--
"She's forgetting me, erasing me from her memory and rebuilding it so that she won't need to exist without me. What the fuck?" Harry snapped as he walked into the library.
"Well," Ron drawled. "I guess we got the answer on why Hermione's at the Make a Dream Foundation."
"What do you mean she's rebuilding her memory?" Neville asked.
Harry growled as he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at its strands. "She's bloody barmy, " he spat. "She decided to forget me, but because she's Hermione and she thinks of everything she apparently made sure to account for the effect I've had on her. The potion rebuilds her memory to save the characteristics that her association with me brought her… or something like that. I was too angry to even think or listen as rationally as I probably should have," Harry reluctantly admitted.
"It's okay," Neville said, not quite sure if he meant it, but even he had to pity Harry at that moment, he was kind of reminiscent of a kicked dog. It was always a sad sight; even if the dog bit you, you had to feel sorry for it.
"I got an address we can go to. Newman wouldn't tell me anything on their business with them, but I don't even care about that as much," he disclosed. "We can head over now if you're both ready."
"I can't," Neville told him. "I got a call from my girlfriend about five minutes ago. Apparently something urgent, she needs me to come home. I'll join you two as soon as possible, but I need to take care of this, too. She sounded really worried," he explained.
"Is she okay?" Harry asked.
Neville nodded. "Yeah, I think so. She wouldn't say what it was over the phone, but she told me that I'd regret not coming. I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise. I wouldn't just leave Hermione-"
"We get it, Longbottom, don't worry," Ron cut him off. "Hurry along now so that you don't waste anymore time and just call Harry once you finish and he'll tell you where to meet us."
Neville nodded, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, I'll see you two. Good luck," he wished before disapparating.
--
Author's Note: so sorry for the unprecedented wait, but I've actually managed to complete the story and it will slowly be updated as my beta goes over it and I review it accordingly.
Also, since for some reason that is totally beyond me, I'm in a sudden writing mood and am taking one-shot prompt/challenge requests at my livejournal.
Again, many thanks to be best beta in the whole wide world (who always leaves me humbled with her immense talent), Searcy!
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