A Thousand Years

Hello, all! My name is Maelody and I am here to bring you a wonderful, chilling story that I hope you will enjoy! It is definitely different, but by the looks of it, we need something a little different around here! It is written for a couple challenges over at HPFF (harrypotterfanfiction.com) I would still love to hear everyone's take over here on the story! What are the challenges you ask? Well I will tell you!

The main challenge of the story is to write an Non Canon pairing story, and I had to choose a number which would assign me which two characters I would be supporting. The characters? Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom! Now that is what I call a challenge!

The second challenge is the "I'm A Believer" challenge. In this challenge I had to choose another number which would assign me "there is life after death". I am using this in a metaphorical sense in my story, so I hope you all enjoy it!

I think that is all you really need to know about it! So here you all go!

Summary: Maybe I had a reason for doing what I did? Maybe I hated my life so badly I couldn't stand the thought of remembering it anymore? I needed a second chance at life. I needed to start it all over again. I needed to obliviate myself. This is my second chance at life.


"Once upon a time I was falling in love,

now I'm only falling apart.” - Total Eclipse of the Heart: Bonnie Tyler


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Beep. Beep. Beep.

I hate that sound. It is the sound of machines telling you that your life is slowly slipping away and there is nothing you can do about it. It was the sound I heard when I was a little girl and standing next to my grandfather, holding his hand in a Muggle hospital. I was very little, actually. I was eight? Maybe nine? Here I was, this very little, naive about death, girl, holding my dying grandfather's hand as the stupid machine counted down my time with him.

When the beeping finally stopped and my grandfather's eyes finally shut, who was I to know he died? For all I knew, he was taking one of those naps he took so often, even if it was in the middle of the day. So, when my father pulled me away from behind as a team of nurses ran in, I was extremely confused.

“Don't! Leave him alone! Let him sleep!” I screamed at the nurses. They were probing grandpa with their sharp, little fingers.

“Hush, child,” my dad told me. It wasn't exactly his normal, hard expression. There was a little sadness in his voice, but he wouldn't show anymore emotion than that. “Don't make a fool of yourself.”

I shut up instantly and looked up at my mother, hoping to find comfort in her instead. I didn't find comfort, however, just tears streaming down her face. Was she crying because those mean nurses weren't letting her daddy sleep?

Later that day, when we finally went home, mummy slowly walked up the stairs robotically. Daddy watched her go and then turned to me once she was gone. He explained to me that my grandfather died today and he wasn't coming back. He was old and it was his time anyway, but I wasn't allowed to bother mummy because she was very sad.

I am only eight years old (maybe nine), and I experienced my first realisation of death. Someone I cared for and loved almost more than anyone in this world, was gone without explanation. At that moment I had no idea I would lose my mummy that day, too. She didn't die, but she may as well have. I don't know what made her hate her life so much to do it, but she did it. Maybe she thought she would only get rid of the past few months (when grandpa started showing his age), but she was so sad that she messed up the spell?

When mummy went upstairs, while daddy explained death to me, she was putting her wand to her head. I don't know if it was then that she decided her fate or if she had decided to obliviate herself months before when she knew he was dying. Regardless, if she was only trying to rid herself of a few memories, she failed. She, instead, took every last memory away that she ever had.

I lost both my grandfather and mother that day, and I was only eight (maybe nine).

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Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound startled me. I wasn't expecting to hear that same beeping noise that haunted me all those years ago. I was aware that I wasn't dreaming anymore, but where was I? Why is everything so dark? Oh...

I opened my eyes, but the light was blinding and my vision was blurry. It was impossible to see anything straight and it made me feel sick to my stomach. A headache was beginning to form right when I was finally able to see a pair of big, brown eyes above me. I was going to ask whoever it was to get the hell out of my way, but the thought of speaking made me nauseous. Instead, I closed my eyes again in hopes of going back to sleep. I would have to deal with those brown eyes later.

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It was amazing how little eleven year old me was easily fascinated by how nothing in my compartment was shaking even though I was in a train. I was on my way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was probably a little too excited to leave home. Unlike most of the other childrens' parents, begging to stay home or hugging my dad goodbye was never something my father allowed.

“Behave yourself. Don't let anyone blow you up.” Those were my father's last words before I boarded the train. In some twisted, sad way, that was his fatherly version of saying, “Do great. I love you.”

His words didn't matter anymore because I was on my way to Hogwarts! I dragged my trunk and carried my owl to the nearest compartment. When I saw a fat boy whining to a hideously bushy-haired girl, I decided to find somewhere else to sit. It wasn't long before I found a boy who already had his robes on, sneering at a couple of fat, ugly boys.

“Excuse me, can I sit here?” I asked, sliding the compartment door open. The sneering boy looked at me with his grey eyes and cringed his nose but decided it was OK for me to sit with them.

I was just putting my trunk up when Grey Eyes asked me, “What's your name?”

“Pansy. Pansy Parkinson,” I replied, sitting right next to him and batting my eleven year old, clear of mascara, eyelashes at him. I don't know if this was exactly what my father would call behaving, but this boy was ridiculously cute. He had pale, blonde hair that was slicked back, a pointed face, and his robes looked brand new and fitted just for him. “Yours?” I asked when he didn't respond to my name.

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Perhaps you know my father, er, Porky?” he raised a blonde eyebrow at me.

“Pansy,” I corrected. “I haven't met him, but I've heard of him. My father works with yours.”

“Really? I've never heard of a Parkbench at the office before,” he sneered, and the two fat boys, who I later found out were Crabbe and Goyle, laughed as though it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Draco seemed indifferent.

“Parkinson,” I corrected again. This boy had an attitude and I liked it.

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“I don't understand,” said a low, sad voice. “She woke up an hour ago and went back to sleep. Is she getting better?”

The voice wasn't familiar to me and I was really beginning to wonder where I was, but I felt too sick to ask any questions. Was I really awake an hour ago? What did I do an hour ago to make me feel this miserable? Who is that man? Suddenly, another voice answered both the man's, and my question.

“She must be coming round. We put a charm on her, so while she sleeps, she can regenerate all the memories she can in her dreams. It only wears off when she remembers everything she can. She must be nearly there. For your sake, we can only hope she can recall the last several years. You got to her in the nick of time.” Said the other voice, but there was a sense of finality in his voice. Were they talking about me? What did he mean when he said he hoped I would remember the last several years? What happened?

“Do you think she will remember waking up?” the first, sad voice asked.

“Probably not,” said the other voice. “The charm is extremely powerful, and seeing as how she is supposed to be asleep, she probably just thought it was another dream. Why?”

“Well I – I just thought that maybe by seeing me, she would remember me.” The sad voice sounded even more disappointed than before. I wanted to tell him to grow a pair and stop being so sad, but in some strange way, I think he is talking about me.

“Did she see you?”

“I think so.”

“Then you may have a chance. For now, why don't you go and get some rest? You've been here for three days straight.”

I hope they aren't talking about me.

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“You really could have at least put some makeup on, Pansy,” Draco said, looking at my face as though it were the last thing he wanted to see right now. I took extreme offense to this, which was saying something because I never took offense to anything Draco said! (Even when what he had to say was always offensive toward me).

“I did put makeup on, Draco,” my fourteen year old self pouted. In fact, I put on a lot of makeup in high hopes of really impressing him. I put my hair back, read several articles in “You're A Wiz, Girl” magazine on how to apply the perfect amount of natural beauty makeup, and wore the most expensive, emerald green dress robes money could buy. I bought it all before Draco even bothered to ask me to the Yule Ball, but my efforts weren't completely unappreciated. I mean, he only asked me yesterday after Stupid Ugly Fat Girl (I didn't even bother learning her name I hated her so much) ditched him for some Durmstrang boy.

“Did you really?” he asked, looking absolutely disgusted. “I guess you do look a bit better than yesterday. Come on,” he sighed, jerking me by the hand. I squealed with excitement as we entered the Great Hall and looked around to see everyone dancing in the icy atmosphere. I looked at him expectantly, hoping he would get the hint to dance, but he just sat me down and told me, “Wait right here. I'll, er, be right back.”

I ended up waiting an entire hour in that spot before he finally came back with a glass of punch.

“Oh thank you!” I said, reaching out for my glass.

“For what?” he asked, pulling his hand back right as I reached for the glass, causing the red punch to fall down the front of my beautiful dress robes. “This is mine. Get your own if you're so thirsty then.”

He sat next to me but never acknowledged I was next to him. Was I really that miserable of a human being to be around?

A girl with bright red hair came near me and I recognised her as one of those horrid Weasley children. I didn't know any of them by name (I didn't care to learn) so I didn't know her name. She looked younger than me, and absolutely hideous in her dress robes. I was going to tell her to go away, but then she wrinkled her nose at me as if I smelled funny and said, “My date was wondering if you'd like to dance?” She didn't seem too enthused about asking me, but I was prepared to make her night as miserable as mine if Draco wasn't going to dance with me.

“Who?” I asked, making sure she heard the subtle “I'd much rather be doing something else that didn't involve talking to you” in my voice.

“He's right over there,” she pointed to a tall, fat boy who looked absolutely horrid in his robes. In fact, everyone here except for Draco and I looked absolutely horrid tonight. Really, couldn't they get better dress robes? “His name is Neville Longbottom.”

“I'd rather sit here and do nothing for the rest of the night than dance with him!” I shrieked. She was insulting me!

“He was only trying to be polite!” the red head cried.

“I don't need charity trying to treat me like a charity case!” I snapped.

“Suit yourself,” said the red head, storming off to the fat boy. Neville was his name? Such a stupid name.

“Are you going to ask me to dance?” I asked Draco another hour later, extremely tired of just sitting there.

“Why should I do that?”

This was going to be a terrible night. Good thing I wasn't looking forward to it or anything...

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I was looking around at all the rubble. An epic battle went on between Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters with the students and staff of Hogwarts. Somehow, I managed to survive it. I didn't necessarily take anyone's side, because honestly my only goal was to survive! Now my only goal was to find Draco. Please, Merlin, tell me he survived! I knew he was on Voldemort's side, but he has been known to be weak at times like this.

None of the dead bodies in the Great Hall were his. That was a relief, but I couldn't let that calm me down. After all, Hogwarts was a huge place and magic could do many things.

I saw that girl from a few years back, the one who I still didn't care to learn her name, hold on to what must be her mum as the rest of her family mourned over another red headed body. Pathetic. If that body belonged to one of their kin, then I'm glad he is gone. The world could stand losing a few ugly gingers.

“Pansy,” a deep voice called my name. I looked all around me until I saw Blaise Zabini crouching next to a blonde boy with his head down. That couldn't be my Draco, could it? My Draco didn't cry, and by the looks of it, this boy did.

My feet led me to Blaise and the boy beside him. When I was close enough to see the blonde, I rushed to his side and tried comforting him as best I could.

“Draco! Draco, you're going to be alright!” I said quietly, hoping to encourage him.

“Get the hell away from me!” he thrashed his arm and knocked me on my arse. Blaise smirked at me and tears stung my eyes. I reached a hand out for my love, but he pulled away from me. “I said keep away!”

“Draco, I was only trying to help!” I cried, tears starting to fall down my face.

“Blaise, get her the hell away from me!” Draco glared at his friend until he followed orders.

Blaise picked me up from behind and held my hands behind my back, leading me away from Draco and out of the Great Hall.

“Let me go! I want to see him! Blaise, GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!” I screamed, kicking at his feet and pulling my arms away from him with all of my strength with no avail. He was huge, and way too strong, but I wouldn't let him stop me from comforting Draco!

He led me to the courtyard and threw me to the ground.

“Stay here,” he said, and then he turned around to leave. I pulled my wand out and pointed it at the back of his head, but before I knew it, my wand was blasted out of my hand.

“What the hell?!” I looked around for the culprit and found a badly injured, and most disgusting looking, boy with his wand arm extended and wand pointing right at where my hand was. “Did you disarm me, little pig?” I spat.

“Please!” he pleaded, catching the attention of Blaise. “No more fighting! There are people mourning in there,” he said, referring to the castle, “and Harry isn't back yet.” I recognised this boy somehow, but I couldn't put my finger on him. I knew Harry, though. Harry Potter was one name I could remember out of the whole castle that wasn't Draco. Not that I wanted to commit him to my memory. It was always, “Harry Potter this.” “Harry Potter that.” “Harry Potter saved the bloody day again!” Well shove off, Harry Potter! Draco is just as great, if not better than you!

I looked at Blaise, hoping that he might hex the pig for me. He looked back at me and then at the nasty pig. “I agree with Neville,” he said, and then walked away.

Shove off, Blaise Zabini!

Shove off, Harry Potter!

And shove off, Neville What's-Your-Name!

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Beep. Beep. Beep.

“I hate that noise,” I said, my voice raspy and dry, as though I hadn't used it in ages. I opened my eyes and was welcomed by a bright light that immediately gave me a mind-splitting headache.

“Sorry, I'll turn it off," someone said and the beeping stopped. It must have been an alarm. "Oh! You're awake!” That someone was a man, and by the sound of it, he was sitting right next to me. “Dr. Nesson! She's awake! She's awake, Dr. Nesson!”

“Will you shut the hell up? I have a headache!” I scolded, grabbing my head in pain. I couldn't see perfectly yet, but I heard footsteps run in my direction.

“Pansy, are you feeling alright?” another man asked me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I had half the mind to tell him to shove off, too, but then I realised the hand he placed on my shoulder was all too real. I wasn't dreaming anymore. I don't know how long I was out for, but however long it was, I felt like I was dreaming for an eternity.

“She said she has a headache,” the voice from before answered for me.

“Oh shut up will you! I can speak for myself!” I snapped at I-Don't-Even-Know. “I have a headache,” I finished lamely. “And I can't see properly.” Things were still blurry, and it was really beginning to worry me.

“Those are both side effects of the charm, er, Miss Parkinson.” Said, who I could only presume, Dr. Nesson.

“What charm?” I asked, not happy about spells being cast on me while I was sleeping.

“A memory charm. We couldn't exactly give you a dreaming potion, seeing as you were asleep, but I don't think we would have gotten the results we needed anyhow. Do you remember anything?” Dr. Nesson asked me, and I was beginning to get extremely annoyed at how calm he was being.

I was going to say something witty and annoying like, “Well of course I remember things, but what is it you want me to remember, you bloody tosser,” but then I realised, once I really thought about it, I couldn't remember anything. The good news is, my vision has returned. It was evident I was in St. Mungo's, but I don't know why.

“Do you know your name?” Dr. Nesson, a tall, too skinny, big nosed, and wrinkly headed old man asked me.

“Pansy. Pansy Parkinson,” I said, but I wasn't sure if I remembered that or if I just remembered Dr. Nesson saying both my first and last name.

“She's alright!” the man who I forgot was sitting next to me said. I glared at him and noticed how he was pretty tall from what I could see, even though he was sitting in a chair. He had combed over, brown hair and a scraggly looking chin due to several days of not shaving, and a set of the most amazing brown eyes I have ever seen. He was actually pretty cute, which is odd for me to say, but that didn't stop him from annoying the hell out of me.

“Who are you?” I asked distastefully, hoping the Dr. would kick him out. He looked at Dr. Nesson quickly but didn't answer my question.

“This is Mr. Longbottom. He was the one who found you, and in the nick of time, too.” Dr. Nesson informed me. I was tired of hearing his voice, too, but it was much better than – Longbottom's? – sad, pathetic voice.

“What do you mean he caught me in the nick of time?” I hated how he was dragging this whole situation out. I just want to go home, wherever that is!

Dr. Nesson and Longbottom looked at each other for a minute before they seemed to silently agree that it was Dr. Nesson who should tell me whatever it was that happened to me. “You have been sleeping for the last week,” he said, his face squished as though he were recalling everything he was allowed to tell me. I was going to interrupt, but he didn't allow me to. “Mr. Longbottom here found you with your wand to your head just as you were casting the Obliviate spell on yourself.”

I don't exactly know what sort of answer I was expecting, but that most definitely was not the one!

“Why in the hell would I try to obliviate myself?” I asked, horrified at the idea. At least I had some sort of memory, I know what the spell is anyway. I know where I am. I know my name. I know I am a witch. What was it exactly he wanted me to remember? There is no way I obliviated myself!

“You believed you could have a second chance at life,” Dr. Nesson said, again sharing an awkward glance with Longbottom.

“Could you two stop ogling at one another and focus on me, please!” I barked, making Longbottom jump and Dr. Nesson sigh.

“The charm we put on you while you were asleep was supposed to help you recollect any memories you have left. Do you remember any of your dreams, Pansy?” he asked, taking a pen from his pocket and readying himself to take notes of my answers. I remembered dreaming, but now that I really thought about it, I couldn't remember what I was dreaming. I opened my mouth to say so, but just shut it again and shook my head with disappoint. I wanted to cry. Why would I obliviate myself? What am I supposed to remember? Wouldn't I have forgotten everything if I succeeded? Maybe that's what he meant by Longbottom finding me just in time. But what exactly was in time? Just soon enough to lose a few years instead of my entire memory? How many years have I lost?

I asked Dr. Nesson exactly what was on my mind.

“Well, lets see. Do you have a pensive, Pansy?” he asked, still talking to me in that horridly annoying, gentle voice. He made me feel like I was five years old. He better bloody well stop that soon! I'm a grown woman! I am... How old am I?

“No, I don't have a bloody pensive,” I snapped, sitting up and folding my arms against my chest. I didn't want to look at either of them anymore because tears were beginning to fall down my face. I don't understand why I would do this to myself.

“Here, I'll give you one of the hospital's pensives and we can put the memories you had in your dreams in it to help us out. We wouldn't have been able to collect any of your memories if we didn't put that charm on you,” he added thoughtfully, as if he were the one who came up with the idea to charm me in my sleep. If that is the case, I will blow his brains out.

He brought a large, silver basin over to the bed I was laying in and placed it on my lap. “Would you like to do the honors?” he asked. I glared at him. How could he expect me to have forgotten certain things and expect me to know others? I don't think even in my right mind I would know how to work a pensive (I have never used one before. At least I don't think I have). “All you need to do is put your wand tip to your head and pull the memories out and into the bowl, dear,” he said with an all too cheerful grin. I want to tear that grin off and feed it to a pack of angry werewolves.

I grabbed my wand (which was on the stand next to me) and did as he instructed. At first nothing happened, but I thought about my dreams and hoped they would come out as I would 'remember' them so I could have some clue of what he was looking for from me. When I finished transferring all I could get out, he nodded at me and gestured that I look into it. When I did, I saw my grandfather die all over again, and my father telling me about how my mother obliviated herself (it made sense somewhat of where I would get the idea now) and how I fell head over heals in love with Draco Malfoy the first day I met him, even though he treated me awfully. I saw how Draco cried and there were a lot of dead bodies at Hogwarts and how the boy, no, the man beside me now, disarmed me as I went to hex Blaise Zabini.

I finished looking at my memories and glared over at Longbottom. At least I know his name is Neville now. Well, Neville, I hate you.

“Do you remember anything now?” Dr. Nesson asked me, taking the pensive away.

“What exactly is it you want me to remember!?” I shouted, impatient with his constant questioning.

“Do you know how old you are?”

“No!” I said, terrified of the truth, but still angry none the less.

“Do you know when your birthday is?”

“December 17, 1980,” I said, perking up that I could remember that.

“Very good, dear.”

“Don't call me dear!” I hissed. He ignored me.

“That makes you twenty-seven. How old do you remember being?”

Twenty-seven years old? There is no way in hell I could be twenty-seven years old! The last memory I could even recall was with me still at Hogwarts!

“Seventeen,” I said, my blood boiling. I was sure my face was turning bright red like it normally would when I get mad (at least I think it would).

“So you've lost ten years of your life.” It wasn't a question. “Do you have any family?” Dr. Nesson was scribbling away on his notepad, not even looking up at me when he asked a question.

“I don't have a mother, at least, I don't think I do. Apparently obliviating one's self runs in the family. My grandfather died when I was little and I don't know –”

“She doesn't have any family,” Neville jumped in. I whipped my head in his direction and narrowed my eyes at him.

“Look, I appreciate you saving me and everything, but is there any reason you're still here?” I tried to get the point through to him with my voice that I wanted him gone, but he didn't seem to catch it.

“Her mother died a few years after she started Hogwarts, along with her father in the last battle. She never had any siblings,” he finished, looking away from me an straight at Dr. Nesson.

“Thank you, Neville, but from now on, can we let Pansy answer the questions?” he asked kindly before going back to his notebook. “Last question – to Pansy this time – who are you currently in a relationship with?”

I thought back and remembered how in love with Draco I was. Am. I could never let Draco slip through my fingers. Of course we would still be together! We could possibly even be married by now if I'm twenty-seven!

“Draco Malfoy,” I said matter-of-factly. For the first time since the interrogation began, Dr. Nesson frowned and recorded my answer. In the corner of my eye I saw Neville slump into his seat and sigh. What was going on? “Can I call him?” I asked, my voice close to desperation. “It looks like he is all I have left and he may be able to help me recover my memory.” I added that last bit with the only ounce of sweetness I had in my body to assure the doctor I would be in good hands and he could let me go.

“I'm sorry, Pansy. I, er, haven't been able to get a hold of Mr. Malfoy all week. Perhaps someone else?” Dr. Nesson asked, sadness in his voice, but also a hint of disappointment too.

“Of course there's nobody else, you wrinkly old fart! Why can't you get a hold of my boyfriend?!” I snapped, trying to get out of bed, but Neville wouldn't let me. “Get your hands off of me!” I pushed him away and stood anyway. It was a mistake because I was extremely weak and fell to the floor anyway, but Neville helped me up and sat me back on the bed. My headache was worse and my haterid for Neville was growing rapidly.

“I see we're going to have to work at making you a sweet young woman again,” Dr. Nesson concluded. Maybe he thought he was being funny, but I didn't see the humor in it at all. I have never been a sweet girl.

“I want to see Draco!” I demanded, ignoring his comments.

“I'm afraid that, until we can get in touch with Mr. Malfoy, you are going to have to find other living arrangements, preferably with a friend that can help you remember the past ten years of your life.” Dr. Nesson said, his brow lines increasing as he watched me react to this news.

“I DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS!” I screamed, a few passing nurses stopped to look in the room. Why in the hell did they leave the door open in the first place? “Go away!” I instructed the nurses and they scurried away.

“It is by my understanding that you and Neville here have been friends for quite some time,” the doctor said. I looked at him with sheer disbelief.

“Neville?” I spat. “Don't make me laugh!” I snorted anyway.

“Think what you want, Pansy, but he is the only friend you seem to have right now. Perhaps if you lived with him for the next few months, at least until you start regaining some of your memory, you will be able to move out. Until then, I am prescribing that you do live with him until you do so. Doctor's Orders.”

“I will not –”

“Oh come now, stop behaving like such a child,” he winked, patting me on the knee. “It won't be so bad. I'll tell you what, if you agree to do this, I'll get you a pensive of your own so you can start collecting anything you remember at all, and you will only have to see me every three months or so to record your progress.” Dr. Nesson didn't wait for my reply before scribbling that down in his notebook too.

“What are my other options?” I asked, keeping my eyes from looking at the abomination I would possibly be living with for Salazar knows how long.

“Staying here with me for the next several months until you have regained every memory of the last ten years.”

“Tempting,” I said, but Dr. Nesson wasn't pleased with my response.

“Not for me, however. Oh, and the the next time I see you, please have that attitude worked on as well. Neville?”

Neville nodded his head. As if he could do anything about my behavior!

Dr. Nesson left the two of us alone and I did everything I could not to look at Neville or let him help me pack (what little things I had here with me anyway).

“Perhaps we should start heading out? It will be dinner time soon,” Neville said after ten minutes of not talking. I ignored him. Whatever I was aiming for with a second life, this most definitely was not it.

Oh, Draco! Where are you, my love?

Feedback!

“One love, One life, When it's one need, In the night, One love, We get to share it.” - One: U2



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Whatever Dr. Nesson meant by saying Neville was my closest friend would be in the world's top ten greatest mysteries. Neville was so incredibly dull and we had absolutely nothing in common. When we finally left St. Mungo's he led me to the lot where he parked his car. It was an ordinary, very Muggle-like, beat up car with four, overly large doors. When we got in, he actually started to drive!

“Why don't you fly the car?” I asked, looking around for the button that would allow us to do so. It was an extremely old fashioned way of of transportation, even I could remember that, but it was much faster than driving around London.

“It doesn't fly,” Neville said simply, not bothered at all that his stupid box didn't fly. “There would be no point in it, either,” he added, “I live nearby.”

I let out an aggravated cry and looked out the window on my side. The view didn't help my mood either. All of London was boring. The only interesting things I saw were the magical shops scattered around until we finally reached Neville's flat.

From the outside, the flat gave off a lot of promise. Each flat looked like it might hold two bedrooms, a kitchen, and living quarters. It wasn't until we walked inside was I equally disappointed with it as I was with his car.

I was first welcomed to an entirely too small hallway that had a coat closet and a desk with a strange red box on it. Neville told me this was a phone (no wonder I didn't recognise it, it was a Muggle item! Even in my days of remembrance I wouldn't have known what that was). I could use it whenever I wanted but not to go too crazy over it.

“You won't have to worry about me using that contraption,” I said, noting the complexity the machine seemed to possess.

Next we wandered into his living room and I noticed how boring it was, too. The floors were wooden, the furniture was beige, there were no pictures anywhere on the walls, and no source of entertainment. I would have complained about this room and the apartment in its entirety, but it seemed pointless. Neville didn't seem to mind his simplicity.

“This is your room,” he opened a white door that led us into a small, equally as boring as the rest of the apartment, room. There was a small, single bed in the corner, a white dresser, and an empty, small closet. Again, there were no pictures.

“Did you just move in?” I asked smugly, knowing darn well he has most likely lived here for years.

“Yes,” he said, taking me by surprise. “Do you like it?”

I dropped my suitcase at the foot of the bed and sat on the unmade bed. “No,” I said disgustedly. This room was absolutely horrid, and he was making me sleep in it! I should be sleeping in my own bed! There should be pictures of my closest friends or Draco on my walls reminding me of all the people that loved me, not bare white ones. The bed was too hard and the dresser was too dusty. The closet may be small, but I don't have nearly enough things to fill it!

“Sorry you don't like it,” Neville said discouragingly. I didn't have the time to care what he thought about me living with him. Last time I checked, it was me refusing to live with him, not the other way around. He might be having a right good laugh at this and I would never know! “Can I get you anything?”

“You can get out of here,” I snapped. I wasn't particularly tired, but I was already tired of today. Apparently, I was tired of my life, but for now I'll just stick with today.

“If you need anything, I'm right across the hall.” He didn't wait for me to answer this time. He closed the door and left me to be by myself. Most girls would start crying right now and complain about how much their life sucks. I did enough crying back at St. Mungo's (though it wasn't much) to last me a year. I'm not the sort of girl to cry. Then again, growing up with my father, it is easy to see why. Wait! Is that considered a memory? I doubted it, but I reached into my bag for the miniature pensive Dr. Nesson prescribed me and pulled out a few of the memories I had from the ten years prior to now and everything before then. After looking at everything, my life really wasn't much to look at.

My father is, or was, (according to Neville he died as a Death Eater in the Final Battle of Hogwarts) a hard man to get along with. After my mother died while I was away at Hogwarts in my third year, he gradually became more distant with me. Even the little shred of concern he had for me in my prior memories were more loving than I remembered him after her death. Draco is the love of my life, and I don't have a friend in the world that I can trust. What sort of life was I living before now?

I didn't want to see anymore of my memories, so I pushed the pensive under my bed in hopes of forgetting it for the next several months. Honestly, this whole plan sucked! I am beginning to come to terms with myself for ever having obliviated myself! Besides Draco, my whole life is worthless! There is no reason for me to even want to remember the last several years of my life.

Draco.

Then again, what if Draco and I are still together? Better yet! What if we got married and had a child or two! My life would be worth something then, right? I'll have to get a hold of him somehow soon. My love is waiting for me somewhere out there in the world.

I soon found myself daydreaming of what my life has been like these last ten years. Draco and I are married and we have one (I decided two children would be too many at my age) beautiful little boy that looks like exactly like his father. We decided to move to Canada because that is where I work, and little Draco Jr. (our son) is learning French by his nanny. We may have our ups and downs like we did in Hogwarts, but Draco and I are madly in love with one another.

I have a wonderful life!

I was about to reach for the pensive again so I could add this memory, but I wasn't even sure if it was real or not. (Though I really want it to be)! Instead, I just sighed and unpacked my suitcase with the flick of my wand. After changing into a long pair of pyjama bottoms with faded blue stripes and a white tank-top, I decided I was tired after all and rolled onto my side on the bare bed. I hated not having any sheets or even a blanket, but I really did not want to see Neville right now.

I fell asleep thinking of my (wishful thinking) life again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, she doesn't remember anything from the last ten years," Neville was talking on, what he introduced to me yesterday as the telephone. Last night's sleep was the worst I have had in... Well, I don't remember how many years, but I'm positive his guest bed is the worst bed in the history of beds. "I know, Draco, but it would really mean a lot to her."

What was that? Was that my Draco he was talking about? Was Draco on the phone?

"Alright, I understand," Neville said, the finality of his voice confirming the conversation was now over and there was no way I could get to him in time.

"Wait!" I shouted, running into the hallway in hopes I could catch Draco before Neville hung up.

"Goodbye." Click. "Oh! Good morning, Pansy! I wasn't expecting you to be awake until later." Neville had a smile plastered all over his fat, ugly face. He hung up on purpose! He knew I was coming!

"That was Draco!" I practically screamed at him, gesturing to the phone.

"So it was," Neville said, and then he left me standing there infuriated in the hallway with a phone I didn't even know how to use. What in the bloody hell was he so ecstatic about? As far as I'm concerned, he has no right to be happy! I'm in a terrible mood!

I looked at the telephone, contemplating if I could teach myself how to use it or not, and decided it would be too hard right now.

“What in the hell was that all about?” I stormed into the kitchen, clutching my wand. He talked to Draco, the man that was apparently unreachable, and didn't let me talk to him! “Do you not want me to remember anything about my past life!” I brought my wand up so he could see just how furious I was. He looked up and noticed my wand right away. He seemed worried, but he didn't panic and bring out his wand like I expected him to.

“Pansy, put that away,” he said smoothly. He wasn't acting like I wanted him to! By now, people would be prepared to duel me at the sight of my wand being out! People were supposed to fear me!

“What do you think Dr. Nesson would have to say about you keeping Draco away from me? Huh?!” I shouted. I was angry! Here I was, worried about being stuck here with Neville for months before Draco was found, and Neville knew where he was the whole time! “He'll let me move out for sure!”

“Pansy, put your wand away and I will tell you what is going on,” he said calmly. If only he knew how much he was making me mad further with his collective attitude. I wanted to hex his testicles into his throat and suffocate him.

“I have a better idea, Fat Face! How about I keep my wand out, and you tell me where my boyfriend is?” I felt childish, but I also felt as if I were being me.

Neville shrugged and put his hands up, giving up his resistance. This was easy! I could move out right now if I wanted to and he wouldn't do anything!

“Yes, I was talking to Draco on the phone,” he stated, obviously, “and Dr. Nesson already knows about it. He's the one who got a hold of him last night in the first place, and told him how to reach me.”

“Why didn't you let me talk to him?” I barked, pointing my wand threateningly at him. I would have to have a word with Dr. Nesson about this, too.

“I thought you were asleep!”

“You saw me walk in!” I retorted, slamming my wand on the counter. Did he really believe I was stupid enough to believe he didn't see me?

“When I was hanging up!” he explained. I wanted to say something back, but instead I bit my tongue. I had to remember now that I was a twenty-seven year old woman. My snarky, seventeen year old comebacks would not be as good as they used to anymore, and frankly, I was tired of arguing with him. I was getting a headache again, and I wanted to lie down. “Are you alright, Pansy?” he asked, noticing my sudden turn in behavior.

“Sod off!” I replied, pocketing my wand. It was late morning and I decided to go to bed early.

“Don't you want something to eat?” he called behind me. I ignored him. “Do you need me to get you anything?” I slammed the door and locked it. I was still in my pyjamas so I just laid on the lumpy bed again. Maybe next time, when I'm not so stubborn, I will ask him for my bedding. I had no difficulty falling back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Pansy. Pansy, wake up," someone was gently nudging me and my eyes fluttered open. There was no light outside my bedroom window. Had I really slept the entire day away? "Pansy, are you awake?" The person waking me up was Neville. How did he end up in my room? Oh. Right. This is his apartment.

"Of course I'm awake, you idiot!" I mumbled, not sure if it was coherent or not. “What do you want?”

“There's someone on the phone for you.” He didn't sound too happy, so that could only mean one thing.

“Draco!” I jumped out of the bed and ran toward the hallway. The receiver was left on the desk. I ran over and picked it up, quickly imitating what Neville had done earlier and put it to my ear. “Hello!” I spoke into the contraption, but there was no reply. “Hello? Draco?” There was a little voice coming from what sounded like the phone, but it was extremely hard to hear. “Draco, darling, you're going to have to speak up.”

“Flip the receiver around,” Neville instructed once he met me at the doorway. I glared at him and then at the phone. Sure enough, he was right. I flipped the phone over and I could hear Draco much better.

“Pansy, is that you?” Draco's voice rang through the telephone. My heart skipped a beat and for the first time since I woke up yesterday, I smiled.

“Draco!” I exclaimed. “Where are you?”

“Pansy, please don't shout over the phone. What happened to you? Are you alright?” Draco asked and I blushed. Never, in all my years of knowing him, had he worried about me!

“I'm alright, dear,” I said with a little more emphasis than needed because Neville would not leave us alone. “I did something stupid and all I want to do is come home. Where are you, Draco?”

“What did you do, Pansy?” he asked, but something told me Neville already filled him in. I shot Neville a glare which read, “Go to hell,” and then went right back to my conversation.

“Well, Draco,” I started sheepishly, “I – I tried to obliviate myself.”

“WHAT!?” he screamed over the phone. My cheeks reddened and I felt ashamed, though some part of me smiled because of his concern. “Pansy! Why would you do that?!”

“I don't know,” I said honestly. “I'm having a hard time finding someone who can tell me why, actually,” I said, fully watching Neville as he stood in front of me without saying a word. His face was motionless and I couldn't tell what he was thinking about all of this, but I was sure he was having a jolly good time. “That's why I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“What is it, Pansy?” Draco asked, his voice worried. I want to do nothing more than apparate to him right now. If only he would tell me where he was.

“Well, I was wondering if I could move in with you. I figured that since you are my boyfriend and everything, it would only be appropriate for me to live with you. Maybe you could help me recall things from the last ten years?” I was too hopeful, however, because Draco didn't sound too enthused about my plan.

There was silence on the phone and I bit my lip. Was there a problem with my plan? Are we not really dating? Was I being too abrupt? Maybe even in the years I can't remember we were dating but decided to not to move in with one another?

“Listen, Pansy,” he said sympathetically, and I knew the worst was coming, “I don't think that would be a good idea...”

“Why not?” I asked hysterically. “We are a couple, aren't we?”

“Well, er, yes, but I'm not in London anymore, Pansy.” Draco was hesitating and I knew the answer wouldn't be good. Where did he live? I could live anywhere he was. I needed to be anywhere he was.

“Where are you?” I asked for a final time.

“Well, I work for the Ministry now and I'm currently stationed in Germany,” he said. Germany? That's not so bad. I could be there in a heartbeat with my wand, and I would be with him again. The only problem with Germany was that it wasn't near London and I would have a hard time remembering my past without familiar surroundings, but I could deal with that.

“That's fine, Draco,” I said, but my voice failed me. I really didn't want to be in Germany, but I wanted him desperately. I want to remember my past. I want to know why I would obliviate myself. “In fact, I can be there right now. Just let me get packed up and I'll – WHERE IN THE BLOODY HELL IS MY WAND!” I reached for my back pocket and my wand wasn't there. I remember putting it there this morning, but I didn't stop anywhere between my bedroom and the phone. Neville looked down at his feet. “You little swine!!”

“Pansy! What is it?” Draco interfered. My knuckles were turning white as I gripped on to the phone, and my eyes were mentally burning holes in Neville's face. “You can't come here,” he said.

“What?!” I snapped out of my anger towards Neville and focused on what my love, my life, my everything was telling me. Were my ears deceiving me?

There was another moment of silence that I couldn't bring myself to break over the phone before Draco said, “I'm here because of a Ministry job,” he said quietly. “I am here doing work and I won't be back for many months.”

He continued to talk and then two thoughts ran around in my mind. Either Draco left shortly after my little spell, or he had already been gone for many months before I decided to do myself in and that is why I decided to cast the spell! I couldn't spend any more time away from him and I obliviated myself! If I could not survive without him, obviously my life style couldn't be very healthy. Was I trying to grow apart from him to become my own person? What a terrible idea!

“Will you see me soon?” I asked, my voice low so Neville couldn't hear the desperation in my voice.

“Probably not,” he said sullenly. I could feel the ache in his heart for me. “Listen, I really have to go.” Through the phone I could hear a door open and the sound of people walking in. “I'll talk to you later, Pansy.”

“Goodbye, darling! I love –” there was a long ringing noise on my end of the receiver and Draco was gone. I hung the phone up and stared at it for a moment as though he may call me back. When he didn't, I looked back at Neville.

He was looking around the room as though he wanted to be anywhere but in the doorway right now. Honestly, I don't know why he didn't start running right then and there.

“Why do you have my wand?” I asked him, my voice low and, quite honestly, giving off warning signals that he just severely angered me.

“It was Dr. Nesson's idea,” he said quietly. “You can have it back if memories come to you or whenever he thinks you won't try harming yourself again.”

Harming myself? I don't even remember why I did what I did to myself the first time! The only reason I would really do anything again would be because of him! I don't think I've spent twenty-four bloody hours with him and I already wanted to get out of here!

“Give me my wand, and maybe I'll let you live,” I sneered. I felt foolish threatening him with nothing but my eyes, but he still seemed to feel pretty bad. I'm winning!

“I can't do that,” he said sadly, and then he turned and hid inside his room. He would have to stop sulking around. He doesn't even have anything to sulk about! He is making me feel sorry for him, in a pitiful and pathetic way.

Can my life honestly get any worse? I would have to make a list later just so I can look at it and depress myself further.

1. I can't remember the last ten years of my life.
2. I am living with someone I don't know and hate.
3. I no longer have my wand.
4. My boyfriend can't do anything to see/help me.
5. I still have no sheets for my uncomfortable bed.

I hate my life.

Feedback!

"Maybe this time, I'll be lucky, maybe this time he'll stay. Maybe this time, for the first time, love won't hurry away." - Maybe This Time: The Cabaret


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I need bedding," I muttered, dropping my spoon into my empty bowl. I don't like being the first to talk, especially when I'm angry, but Neville seemed a bit on the shy side this morning. By morning, I mean a ridiculous hour in the morning. Since I slept the day away yesterday, I wasn't able to sleep last night like I thought I could. When I heard him up and about, I decided to get out of my room.


"Did I forget to put any in your room?" Neville looked up from his morning Daily Prophet in shock. "I'm terribly sorry. I will get you some right after work."


"Work?" I asked as though the word were entirely new to me. "You work?" I can't even begin to think of what he does. Whatever it is, it must be dreadfully boring. Probably the most dull position in the
Ministry.


"Yes," he replied, unsure if I was actually interested or rude. Though I'm not the latter, I definitely wasn't the first. "I work at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley over the summer. They need someone who can take care of the plants so they can sell them or use them in potions."


Yep, just as I thought, Neville is a total bore. I can see why he is not married. Unfortunately, he reminded me of something important.


"Because I seem to be incredibly unpopular and orphaned, I'm stuck here with you for Merlin knows how long," I pointed out, making sure the enthusiasm in my voice was just oozing out (note my sarcasm). "I refuse to lull about this pitiful place while you're gone."


"Are you offering to help me keep up with my flat?" he sounded so surprised it was offensive.


"For the lack of better terms, yes. Apparently, we're the best of friends, so don't you know where I work?" I asked, recalling what Dr. Nesson said at St. Mungo's only three days ago.


"You do work," he said, thinking suddenly. I perked up in my seat, regardless of how exhausted I was. "But they all heard about your, er, accident and aren't expecting you until later next week." I immediately sank back down.


I'm well enough to work now! It's not like I'm incapable of doing anything. "What is it I do?" I asked, ignoring the urge to voice my thoughts.


"You work at the Ministry of Magic in the, erm, Magical Law Enforcement Department."


"Oh." I said, noticing Neville's discomfort. I, a person who enforced magical laws, obliviated myself. My life was beginning to sound like Neville's: incredibly boring. I really need to come up with a better word to describe him, but boring seems to fit so well. Even the word boring is boring.


"You're welcome to come to work with me if you don't want to hang around here by yourself," he offered with a small smile.


"There's not a chance in hell," I said, looking around the place as though it had suddenly become a lot more interesting. "Is there any way I can get my wand back while you're gone? Maybe make this place a little less dull?" Dull. That's a nice word.


"You think it's dull here?" Neville asked looking around.


"Duh." Well don't I sound like a mature twenty-seven year old?


"Maybe I can bring some plants home to liven it up. Sorry, but I cannot give you your wand back." Neville didn't enjoy keeping me on lockdown, even I could see that, but he sure was being annoying. This time, instead of dramatically going to my room, Neville decided to fold up his Daily Prophet and head out the door with a small nod. Once he left, there was only one thought on my mind.


Earlier this morning, when Neville was making breakfast, he used his wand. Nowhere on him did I see my wand, so I assumed he left it in his room. When I went back to check, his door was locked.


"Of course," I muttered to myself. There was no way for me to get in either. Not without breaking down the door of course. I could always break the door and repair it once I got my wand back, but there was nothing small and heavy enough for me to use. "Damnit!"


I tuned back around to observe the rest of the flat. It was nothing extraordinary, and I definitely had nothing to do. There were all sorts of contraptions I didn't know how to use, like the big black box in the living room. This means I'm going to have to talk to Neville again just to figure out what I can do here. Now that I think about it, he really is a rude host. He admitted to forgetting my sheets, he hasn't shown me how to work anything, and of course there was the whole stealing my wand thing. The only thing I even slightly knew how to use was the telephone, and there was no one I could call on that thing.


Except Draco.


I walked into the hallway and looked at the small, red vocal box. I don't know how, but Draco is in there. How do I get a hold of him? The phone had a round disc on the top with ten, spread even holes in it. Each hole had a number in it starting with zero to nine. Was it some sort of clock? It was definitely wrong if it was, because there was no eleven or twelve. Then again, I have seen a few clocks that weren't meant to tell time, either. Dad used to have a clock that told him where he needed to be right now. It was like a memo clock, and if he needed to be at work, St. Mungo's, and yes, even with Voldemort, it called to him. There was even a spot for Hogwarts, but it must be broken, because I needed my father many times and he never came.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The sound was coming from the phone and I didn't know what to do. I've never heard anything come from the contraption before except for Draco's voice. Hesitantly, I picked the receiver up, assuming this would be the only effective way of making the loud, way too annoying machine shut the hell up. I was correct. I copied the actions I did yesterday and put the receiver to my ear.

“D– Draco?” I asked, automatically assuming that he would be the one calling.

“Pansy?” It was a woman's voice. I didn't recognise it, but she sounded like she knew me.

“Yes,” I said matter of factly. “Who is this?”

“I'm sorry, I thought Neville would be home,” said the unknown woman. “But it is probably best that I speak to you.”

“Neville is at work. Who is this?” I repeated, my voice more irritated than before.

“Sorry! I'm Hermione Weasley. You probably don't remember me, but I am the head of your department. I just wanted to call and let you know that you can start work on Monday. Has Neville told you where you work?” she asked cautiously, as if she knew by further explaining anything I already knew would tick me off.

“Magical Law Enforcement,” I reassured her, slightly annoyed. “Thank you.” I was just glad I would have something to do now and have some way of recalling my memory.

“So how are you? Are you doing alright?” she asked, and I could hear the sympathy in her voice. I wanted to ask her why she thought it was her business to get into mine, but seeing as how she is my boss, I thought better of it.

“I'm fine,” I answered curtly, a new thought entering my mind. Magical Law Enforcement is a position in the Ministry. If she is there, and Draco works at the Ministry, she might know how I could reach him. “Do you know how I can phone Draco?”

“Who?” Hermione sounded surprised on the other end of the line, but I ignored it and repeated my question. “Well you call his number,” she explained skeptically.

“Number?” I questioned. “What is his...number?”

“I don't think I should be the one who gives you that sort of information,” Hermione said and I was beginning to severely dislike her. “I think if he sees it fit, Neville should give you the number when he gets back.”

“I don't need someone to babysit me and the phone calls I make, Miss Weasley.” I said scathingly. My patience is extremely low right now, and I really want to hear Draco's voice.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said hotly, but she sighed over the phone and continued. “Alright, you're right. You can reach Draco by calling 555-0123. Let Neville know that Ronald and I say hello and we hope he is fairing well, and I will see you at eight o'clock Monday. It was nice speaking with you, Pansy. Goodbye.”

“Uh-huh,” I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she couldn't see me. She hung up and the phone began to make a long, ringing noise. I didn't put the receiver down in fear I would ruin it working again, but a woman's automatic voice came to the phone that I didn't recognise.

“You have just completed a Ministry Official call via commune-a-phone. The telephone is a Muggle contraption that has been used since 1877 and has been used as an efficient way of communication. As witches and wizards, we have found ways of communicating with one another in fast ways of travel, Patronus, owl, or fire. Due to inconvenient time for travel, the Ministry has adopted the idea of the telephone in hopes to communicate faster with other witches and wizards. Please contribute to this growing marketing idea and get your own commune-a-phone today! In doing so you can–”

I hung the phone up anyway, tired of hearing the all too cheerful advertisement. If anything, I now knew that this wasn't an ordinary telephone.

“555-0123,” I mumbled to myself, committing it to memory. I picked the phone up again and looked at the strange clock-like disc on the phone. The numbers make sense now, but I still have no idea on how to use it. When I poked at them in the order of the numbers nothing happened, but then I realised the disc moved. After experimenting for a while, I finally figured out how it worked (after a few wrong numbers, too). “5...5...5...0...1...2....3,” I repeated after each number I dialed. The phone rang for a moment or two before it was answered at last. “Draco!” I exclaimed, sure that I did everything right this time.

“Excuse me, who is this?” a rather rude woman demanded.

“I must have the wrong number,” I said as equally rude. The prior wrong numbers were not as rude as this woman.

“No, Draco lives here,” said the woman.

“Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?” I asked, not sure if this woman knew who I was talking about or not.

“Is this Pansy Parkinson?”

“Yes.”

“Listen, Home Wrecker, I know exactly what is going on, and I want you to know right now that I do not approve of it. Do not call this number again, and we won't have anymore problems.”

Before I could retaliate anything she said, the familiar ringing rang through the receiver again before the ad from before repeated.

“You have just completed a Ministry Official call via commune-a-phone. The telephone is a–” I hung the phone up, tears stinging my eyes as they threatened to fall down my face. I can't believe it! Draco is cheating on me! His witch of a girlfriend or wife – No! – mistress just yelled at me! Why didn't anyone tell me about this before? Did anyone else know? Surely Neville must have, since he was so negligent about letting me contact him in the first place.

I moped around the flat for hours, not even bothered by the fact I had nothing to do but cry. It didn't do me any good, though. In fact, after crying for hours, I only felt worse about myself and this whole situation. How could my life be so terrible? Why am I stuck here with Neville? Why would Draco ever cheat on someone as charming, beautiful, and cunning as I am? I even tried doing that thing other girls do when they find themselves in this situation: convincing myself I was thinking of the absolute worst possible situation and it wasn't what I was thinking. That didn't work.

I was in my room, sulking in my bed, tears long behind me, when I heard the front door open. Assuming it was just Neville home from work, I just stayed where I was, face hiding in my folded arms.

“Pansy!?” he called throughout the flat. I didn't dignify him with an answer. I heard the keys drop onto the table in the hallway and his footsteps coming toward my end of the flat. There was a knock on my door and I let out a long, exasperated groan.

“Go away!” I shouted. Neville is not a very good listener.

“What's wrong?” he asked, opening my door. Oh! He has a wand. Of course, just because I don't have mine anymore doesn't excuse him from using magic. He was probably using my bloody wand! I looked up and watched as he placed a trunk with a couple of moving plants I didn't recognise on top of it on my dresser.

“Shove off,” I grimaced. One of the plants, to my satisfaction, snapped at him.

“You don't have to tell me,” he said earnestly. “Here, I brought this from the other apartment. I'm still in the process of moving out.” He indicated the trunk. “It is full of some bedding, clothes for you, and a few more plants I thought you would like.” Something he said struck me as odd. I knew this flat was new, but I didn't realise he was still in the process of moving out.

“What would my clothes be doing at your old apartment?” I asked, looking at him questionably.

Neville turned red and he looked away from me, flustered. “I– Uh– Well– You were– We were roommates,” he finished lamely. For once in the last three days, I didn't challenge him.


“Roommates, huh?” I asked, getting up to peek inside the trunk, which I noticed was the one I used in my Hogwarts days. On the inside there were more plants that snapped at me at the sign of light. In the corner I noticed a small pot of some sort of white flower with a beautiful blue pattern on them. When I opened the lid further I noticed they were calla lilies: my favorite. Most people expected my favorite flower to be pansies, but I decided when I was a very little girl I would not be so cliché. I looked up at Neville to see him looking at his hand as it danced around on my desk, blushing. “You want to know what's wrong?” I asked, shutting the lid and smirking at him. He looked at me and gave me a weak smile. I sighed and went over to the lumpy, no good bed, and sat down.

“Draco is– Well, he's cheating on me,” I said, my voice catching as I continued on. I thought I would be stronger than this by now, but how could I be? That was the, is the man I love, who cheated on me.

“What?” Neville asked, choking on a whisper caught in shock. “I don't think–”

“What? You don't think he would cheat on me? Well I didn't either, but guess what? You need to think again!” I said, excusing my tears with a pitiful laugh. I was well aware that Neville was watching me, but hey, we used to be best friends, right?

“What happened?” he asked after an awkward silence with my occasional sniffle and cough. I told him about Hermione and the phone call I made to get in touch with Draco, but the awful woman answered instead. After I was done, or after I couldn't go on anymore is more like it, Neville nodded his head and placed a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to shrug him off and glare at him, but right now I was too tired from my crying I could care less. “Remember how he told you he was in Germany for the Ministry? Well, doesn't the Ministry only send people away when they're on super secret missions or something?” I shrugged. “Anyway, I'm sure that must have been his partner who answered and she was just upset that he was giving away everything.”

“And the home wrecker part? What about that, Neville?” I asked pathetically. His excuse to cheer me up wasn't working. There was another moment of silence while he tried to think of something to say.

“She's an awful woman?” he said with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow. I looked at him with my blotchy, tear stained face and coughed out a laugh.

“Yea, she is terrible all right,” I confirmed.

“Well, I'm going to go put these plants around the house, do you care to join me?” he asked, taking my light hearted mood into account. I raised my eyebrow at him and shook my head.

“The calla lilies were nice– creepy – but nice. However, plants aren't exactly my sort of thing.”

Neville sighed. “I see that hasn't changed about you,” and he nudged me with his elbow. A small laugh escaped my lips and I caught myself off guard. What was I doing? This is Neville Longbottom, the man who has been making my life a living hell these last few days, and here I am laughing at him like a hopeless schoolgirl? I thought back at what he said, looking for something to critisise him with.

“What do you mean I haven't changed? What is that supposed to mean?” I asked in a more serious, non laughing manner. The change in my mood caught Neville off guard and he began to stammer again.

“I just meant– Well, you know– The old you didn't like gardening either. You love the plants, hence why you don't pick on me about my work, but you don't do much to care for them. That may explain why we never had any pets in the apartment,” he added thoughtfully. Great. So I'm careless? Just what I needed to hear.

“So I don't like taking care of things I love?” I asked, my voice strained. I was beginning to learn that when I heard things about myself, I really would much rather not know them.

“I wouldn't say that,” he said. “You take care of many things. Like dinner!” He naturally perked up at the thought and looked at me hopefully. “You can cook up a mean Lancashire hotpot.”

The thought of cooking cheered me up a little. I remembered having to cook for myself at home when dad wasn't around. The House Elf refused to listen to me, mainly because he was my father's elf, so I would make my own meals. Sometimes I would stray from tradition, which made it all the better.

“And ever since the war ended, you have stayed very committed to obeying and enforcing the rules of magical uses. Well, until...” he strayed off his current topic until he silenced himself, knowing what he brought up would severely tick me off. “Listen, Pansy, I know you don't understand why you did what you did to yourself. Hell, I don't even fully understand why you did it, but you did. You wanted a second chance at your life, and this is what you've got. Whatever you discover along the way now, well, I guess it is what your life is truly meant to be like. Things may change, but this is the only way to assure you are absolutely the Pansy you want to be.”

Neville sighed, his brow furrowed and eyes sad. Unfortunately, tears stung at my eyes again, threatening to pour down my face. What is up with me and crying lately? I'm not some silly girl who cries at every little thing!

Something made a crashing noise outside of my room and both Neville and I looked up to see what it was. Neville was the first to jump up and peek around the door, wand ready.

“It's just an owl,” he said sounding relieved. I noticed I was holding my breath and let the captured air out. “It looks like you've got mail,” he said from the living room. I stood from the bed to inspect what he was talking about. How did anyone know I lived here? He held out a square, purple envelope in my direction. I took it, scrunching my nose as I squinted to read it more clearly. It was from the Ministry of Magic.

“ARGH!” I shouted, making Neville jump in the middle of his half-read letter. I just finished reading my letter and it is safe to say I am extremely mad.

“What is it?” he asked, trying to peek over the top of the heavy, yellow parchment I was holding.

“I have to go to court!” I exclaimed. “The date is set for July seventeenth! That is two weeks from now!” What in the hell did I have to go to court for? I obliviated myself. It's not like I tried to harm anyone else! Just myself! “I can't believe I have to do this!”

“Well it is against the law,” he said, not helping my mood at all.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Please, say one more thing so I can be the perfect balance of ticked off!” Not my best comeback, I'll admit, but I am still shocked about this whole situation.

“At least it's in two weeks. If it were sooner, I'd be worried, but not so much with it being two weeks away.”

“What does it matter if it is two weeks or tomorrow?” I snapped, tossing the letter onto a table in the living room.

“Tomorrow, you did something really bad and they're extremely mad at you. Two weeks from now, they can't really find the time to fit you in with everything else going on in the world, but you did wrong so they have to do something to tell you so. You'll get a slap on the wrist, they'll send you home, and everything will be fine. I promise.” He tried adding a reassuring grin to the end of his statement, but even his face gave away that he wasn't entirely positive of his own words.

“Somehow, your promise sounds like they're no good to me,” I spat, crossing my arms. My semi good mood from earlier is eradicated. My words, however, seemed to phase Neville this time. Instead of his usual small smile, his shoulders tightened and his whole body went stiff. He wasn't looking up at me, but I could tell he was trying to avoid making eye contact.

“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice strained. I wouldn't exactly say he was angry, but he seemed incredibly hurt by what I said. At this rate, I don't really care. “I'm going to make dinner. You must be starving.” He walked to the kitchen, still avoiding eye contact with me.

“I'm not hungry,” I lied. I'm actually extremely hungry, but I didn't want to deal with the awkward dinner at the table. (Neville thinks eating at the table will help me recall memories).

“I'll serve you dinner in your room,” he added. I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Fine!” I shouted from my room, slamming the door shut. I wish I only lost the last five years of my life instead of the last ten, because then maybe I wouldn't act like such a seventeen year old.

Feedback!

“Don't stand, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me!” - Don't Stand So Close to Me: Sting


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ministry of Magic is a magnificent place. It is even more magnificent than the time I saw it when I was seven and my father brought me to work. It was just the one time, and he didn't exactly want to do it in the first place, but mum thought it would be a wonderful idea. I had a blast nonetheless, even if it was a total bore. I was at that age where impressing my father was all that mattered.

Now the Ministry is incredibly busy with people running around frantically in search for someone they don't even know. Paper airplanes are whizzing about, and one goes over my head as I navigate my way through the crowds of people. Usually I would be jinxing people left and right and ordering them to get out of my way, but as of right now, I do not have a wand. Neville, even though I told him I would be returning to work today, was adamant about keeping my wand from me until Dr. Nesson says otherwise.

“Pansy? Pansy!” someone shouted my name from the other end of the Ministry. I looked around to see who it was and spotted a young, bushy haired woman, frantically waving her arm in the air and standing on her tiptoes. No one seemed to pay her any mind, but I lowered my head in hopes no one would connect the two of us together. “Pansy it is so nice to see you again!” Hermione Granger said as I stood right in front of her. It was easy to tell who she was because she still looked like the seventeen year old girl from Hogwarts (unfortunately). The only difference was a very prominent baby bump underneath her Ministry official robes. Who in the would knock her up?

“Hermione Granger?” I asked, a little more surprised than I should be. I never even thought that the woman on the phone last week could be the same Hermione that I knew from school.

“Actually, It is Hermione Weasley now,” Hermione beamed, looking up at me. “We'll have plenty of catching up to do later, Pansy. Now, we must get you a proper wand!” She grabbed me by the hand and began to pull me along to follow her, dodging witches and wizards as they came at us. If it weren't for the fact that she said I would be getting a new wand, and I have no idea where I am going, I would have pulled away from her once she reached for my hand. Though, now that I think about it, I don't think I could pull away if I tried. It may be her baby hormones, but her grip on my hand is like a mother's dragging her toddler around to make sure it doesn't get lost.

We finally reached an office that looked nearly deserted. There was dust on the windows and it looked completely black on the inside, but that didn't stop Hermione from knocking on the green, paint chipped door. Without hesitation, the door opened and Hermione smiled up at me, gesturing for me to enter first. Extremely unhappy with this decision, I obliged anyway. As soon as I walked in, the once dark office room lit up with dim candle lights.

“There's normally never any use for this office,” Hermione piped from behind me. She seemed to be looking around for something before she spotted a dusty old chest in the corner. The room wasn't that big, and no one else was in here to keep charge of it.

“It looks abandoned to me,” I snarled, not bothering to ask what it was she was looking for.

“I guess you could say that,” Hermione's muffled voice replied while she stood on her tiptoes to reach in to the very bottom of the chest. From where I'm standing, the chest is barely a foot tall, but I assumed it must be enchanted since half of Hermione's upper body was inside of it. “We really just come in here for situations like this.”

“What do you mean situations like this?” I asked, glaring at her from behind. I knew exactly what she meant.

“Oh, Pansy, don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about. Found it!” she slid out of the chest and planted her feet on the ground, holding up a very beat up stick. “This is your new wand!” She dusted it off and held it out for me to take. When I didn't, she nudged it closer in my direction. “Go on! Try a spell!”

I took the wand out and inspected it, wondering if it could actually produce any magic after Salazar knows how long it has been locked up inside that chest. “Accio parchment.” A nearby parchment flew directly toward me and I caught it with my wand-free hand. I dropped it on the ground, not caring what the parchment said, and smirked at the wand in my hand.

“Don't get too cozy with that wand,” Hermione noted. “It is a work purpose wand only. When your shift is over, you will return the wand to me everyday before going home.”

“Excuse me? What makes you think I will take orders from a filthy little mudblood like you?” I sneered, pulling the wand away from her as if she were going to take it from me now.

“Ah, the perks of losing one's memories,” Hermoine tutted. “For starters, this mudblood is your boss, and you have to listen to me. Also, we do not allow that term around here. Memory or no memory, you can be fired in a heartbeat if anyone else hears you say that again. Now come on, I think we've wasted enough time in here.” She didn't sound nearly as cheerful as before, but she gave me a curt smile and turned on her heel. I followed behind her, assuring that we stayed at least five paces apart at all times.

“Good morning, Misse–eh– Parkinson!” said the fifth person in a row who recognised me as Hermione and I made our way to our department. They would all smile, tip their hats if they wore one, and then carry on their way once they saw me. Everyone around here knows me, but I have no clue who they are. Every once in a while Hermione would greet them and I would catch a name or two, but I had no idea who these people were.

“How are you, Mr. Berly?” Hermione asked kindly in the lift.

“Hermione, please, I insist you call me Herbert! I am absolutely dashing! I see Miss Parkinson is with us today at last! How are you, dear?” Herbert said in an all too cheerful and extremely fake voice that said he would rather be at home.

“Herbert, please, I insist you call me Pansy! I'm absolutely marvelous, you know, with having no recollection of the past ten years of my life!” I said as equally enthusiastic as Herbert. His smile disappeared and he looked forward, forgetting Hermione and I were even in the same lift.

Finally, in what could have easily been an hour since my arrival, we arrived to at the Magical Law Enforcement department. People dressed in black, uniform Ministry official robes were sitting at desks all around the department and in offices. Everyone seemed to be on one of the new commune-a-phones, speaking urgently to the party on the other line. All of the phones looked exactly like Neville's, which meant his was definitely not an ordinary Muggle telephone.

“Aren't they a wonderful idea?” Hermione asked over her shoulder, noticing my wide-eyed stares around the room. “I suggested it to Kingsly a few years back. He absolutely loved the idea!”

“Kingsly?” I asked, not aware of whom she was going on about.

“Honestly, didn't Neville fill you in with anything?” Hermione turned and stopped in front of me, almost causing me to crash right into her and take her and her very swollen stomach to the ground.

“We aren't on speaking terms right now.” I stated honestly. Since my blow up last week about having to go to court, I've barely said more than two words to him. In fact, this morning is the first time I can recall him trying to talk to me before work. I asked for my wand, he said no, and then I went on with my day.

“Really?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow and sucking on the inside of her cheek. “Well, Kingsley Shacklebolt is the Prime Minister of Magic. He, along with me, is the most important person you need to listen to. I'll introduce you a few other important people you must know, but only when the time comes. As for now, do you remember Rebecca Henley?”

An extremely short woman who looked twice my age came waddling up to me. Her hair was twisted in a tight, peppery bun, and her triangular glasses rested on top of her head. “It s'bout time yeh showed up! I've bin holdin' all yer slack!” Rebecca yelled at me with a harsh, old voice. She squinted her eyes at me and I thought she was threatening me at first, but then I realised she actually needs the glasses on top of her head.

“My partner?” I assumed, dreading the old woman already. Hermione nodded sympathetically and Rebecca opened the door to our office and stepped inside.

“Well come on then! We ain't got all day!” she squinted past me, expecting me to follow immediately.

“I'll come get you around lunch so we can catch up.” Hermione said before taking off. The last thing I wanted to do is catch up with Hermione Granger. Sorry, Weasley. Why does that name sound so familiar anyway?

“No use in standin' 'round, Parkinson. Yeh 'ave two weeks worth of work 'head of yeh.” Rebecca wheezed, hoisting herself up onto her desk.

“Now listen here, lady, I don't know if anyone has told you but–” I started, hating Rebecca already, but she interrupted me.

“Yeh did yerself in, huh? Couldn' handle yeh lit'le pathetic life anymore? Tha's too bad now ain't it? I 'ope yeh weren' lookin' for anythin' from me. Now get to work!” Rebecca set to work right away with something on her desk. She didn't look at me again, and I didn't even bother with talking back to her.

Her desk was opposite of a messy, unoccupied, black desk. There was no nameplate on it like Rebecca's. Hers had a silver plate that read 'Henley', and the letters magically flashed before it. Where is mine? What exactly did they think happened to me?

I sat at the unoccupied desk and moved papers around so there was a clear space for me to work. What do I do now? Why isn't someone training me? There is a red commune-a-phone on my desk. I thought about calling Hermione to ask exactly what I'm supposed to do, but the phone rang instead. Following my instincts from the last time I was in this situation, I picked it up and put the receiver to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked. Rebecca shot me a glare from her paperwork. I could tell she didn't approve of my unprofessional approach on the phone.

“I have a woman who needs her name cleared in a misuse of magic case. Do you have files on a Jennifer Pealwaters?” a hefty man's voice came from the other end of the phone.

“I–uh–don't know...” I replied, at a loss of what to do. I looked around my desk and noticed one file with Pealwaters written across it. Relieved, I snatched it up and looked into it. “Name: Jennifer Delaney Pealwaters. Age: 37. Wand: 11 ½ inches, maple wood, unicorn core, and slightly springy. Offence: Using a– Using a levitation charm on a Hippogriff?”

“Yes, yes, that's the one.” Said the man, sounding more than agitated with the wait. “Can you tell me exactly what year we legalised levitation spells on winged creatures?”

“What year– what?” I asked in disbelief. Is this really something one can be punished by the Ministry for?

“1932, after Helena Plies' trial for helping abused and damaged winged creatures was passed,” Rebecca snorted, never looking up once. I repeated this information to the annoying man in my ear. He hung up the phone without so much of a thank you. I hung the phone up and read Jennifer Pealwaters' folder.

She, like Helena, was helping a damaged Hippogriff learn to fly when a Muggle caught her. Now she is being trialed with a 'possibly illegal curse' as her file would say, and for practicing magic in front of a Muggle. When I closed the folder I noticed a memo was written on the other side. It was probably left for me before I left. It read:

URGENT
Forgotten law
Please check year legalised levitation laws on magical winged creatures
Have ready by Monday Morning

No wonder the man was upset. The Monday morning on the memo was meant for last Monday.

Just then, a flying airplane memo came in and collided with the side of my head. Once I untangled it from my hair and read it, I groaned.

URGENT
NAME: George Nathaniel Weise.
AGE: 15.
Wand: 10 ¾, laurel wood, Phoenix feather core, slightly springy.
SCHOOL: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
HOUSE: Ravenclaw.
OFFENCE: Using the spell: Accio.
DEFENCE: “I was only getting a soda from the kitchen!
Please send a warning letter right away.

M.O.M
Head of Magical Law Enforcement
Hermione J. Weasley

Having no idea of what to do, I looked around for some blank parchment, an envelope, and ink. Once all of my materials were present, I dipped my quill in the ink and held it over the parchment. I was at a loss of what to write. What do I tell a kid who can't even get up to get his own drink?

Dear Mister Wiese,
I know something as stupid as the Accio charm seems like it shouldn't be such a big deal for the Ministry of Magic to care about. Unfortunately, it does. So if you could please stop being such a lazy little git, and get your own drink, I would greatly appreciate it.

I had no idea on how to end it so I just signed my name and sealed the letter in the envelope. I tapped it with my wand and it sprang to life, zooming out of the office. This job is going to be a piece of cake!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Seventeen letters sent and at least a hundred phone calls later, Hermione came knocking at the office door. Rebecca already left for lunch, but I had no idea where to go, so I just stayed here.

“Well you've been everything but useful today, haven't you?” Hermione asked with a cheerful grin that gave away fake anger.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not too fond of her form of joking.

“Seventeen of your letters were rejected today,” she said while pulling seventeen letters with my handwriting out. “You cannot, no matter how tempting, call children 'Little gits'.”

I rolled my eyes in reply and began to pack up. “Rebecca hasn't absolutely been the best partner.”

“I guess she is still mad at you then?” Hermione asked, unsurprised. Was I supposed to know the answer to that?

“What did I do to her?” I asked once we left the office.

“You stole her attention,” said Hermione bluntly. “With you having no memory of the last ten years, everyone finds you absolutely intriguing.”

“I'm sorry that my mistakes seem to amuse everyone else! Its not like I want them to!” I shouted. I will definitely be talking with Rebecca about this later. “What's wrong with her anyhow?” I asked sourly once we made it to what must be the break room.

Hermione shrugged as she squatted into a seat, careful of her swollen belly. “So tell me everything!” Hermione said in such a fashion two close friends would talk to one another. Were Hermione Granger– er– Weasley and I close friends? Unbelievable! However, I am pushing Neville away, and Draco still hasn't answered his phone. I really need to talk to someone. Seeing as how there is no chance of Rebecca and I getting all chummy any time soon, Hermione would have to do. Putting back all of the fights I could remember the two of us getting into at Hogwarts, and my distaste for Potter and her redheaded friend, I told her exactly what has been happening the last week alone with Neville.

“He is unbearable! He is boring! He is unbearably boring! He took my wand away, as I suspect you already know, because he is afraid of what I will do to myself! He hasn't told me anything about my life in the last ten years except that we are best friends, and I feel like he is leaving it all up to me to figure out who I am! You know what he told me? He bloody well told me that whoever I discover I am this time around is the Pansy I am truly meant to me! Doesn't that sound like a bunch of foolishness to you? I mean honestly, how could the two of us ever be friends? I remember hating him throughout Hogwarts, and definitely at the end of it! I feel like that good for nothing Dr. Nesson and Neville are trying to trick me!” I ranted, not giving Hermione the chance to speak. If it weren't for the necessity of breathing, I would still be talking, but Hermione squeezed in before I could go on.

“Have you asked him anything?” She asked simply, putting a small hand on her very pregnant belly. She was just sitting there with a content smile on her face, drinking coffee as if her question meant nothing. I opened my mouth to retort to her question, but instead, I just let it sit there, open for all the flies to fly in. Had I asked Neville anything? I remember constantly berating questions from him and Dr. Nesson if I had any other family or friends, but other than that, I couldn't recall actually asking him anything about my life.

“No.” I said quickly, shutting my mouth and looking away. I should be upset right now, but instead I am sitting here thinking about what a whinny little girl I have been lately. Honestly Neville could have told me something without waiting for me to ask. Isn't it me who lost her memory? How should I know what to ask? Why do I have to be the one who initiates finding out who I am? Shouldn't everyone be coming to me, trying to force me to remember them? Doesn't it hurt them that I don't remember anything about them or even know who they are?

Hermione waved at a new wave of witches and wizards that came in for their break. I started to stand and get ready to go back to work, but she pulled on my robes and ordered me to sit back down.

“You're not going back in there until you're properly trained!” she said, a very skeptical smile on her face.

“What about you?” I asked dully. “Don't you have to go back to work?”

“I'm pregnant!” Hermione excused herself with a laugh. “Besides, we have a lot of catching up to do. First off, tell me anything you can remember.” She folded her arms on top of her stomach and leaned back in her chair.

I told her about the last day of the Final Battle of Hogwarts and how Neville disarmed me before I was able to hex Blaise Zabini. That was my last recollected memory, but I have figured a few things in my life out up until now. For starters, Draco Malfoy is my boyfriend, and assuming by the missing ring on my finger, we are not married or engaged. Neville and I are, or were, best friends who used to be roommates before I lost my memory. I work, obviously, at the Ministry of Magic in the Magical Law Enforcement department, working under Hermione Weasley and the newest Minster of Magic, Kingsly Shacklebolt. My office partner is Rebecca Henley, and for some reason that is way beyond me, I obliviated myself. Now I'm in search for some sort of second chance at life, whatever that means.

“Did you figure all of that out by yourself?” Hermione asked, a small frown on her face. The frown had found a place on her lips early on in my story and I almost stopped then, but decided to go on. I shook my head and Hermione leaned up in her seat and sighed. “Have you remembered anything else?”

“No!” I snapped, wondering why she was asking me practically the same question. It is like sitting here for the past ten minutes, explaining everything to her, meant absolutely nothing. Hermione had a warning look on her face and opened her mouth as though she were about to tell me off for snapping at her, but changed her mind last minute.

“Then I suppose I can set some things straight,” she sighed. I instantly perked up in my seat. “Let me fill you in first before you start asking questions. To help you believe everything I say, I will start off by letting you know that the two of us are pretty close friends. You can ask Neville, or Dr. Nesson for that matter, if you need further confirmation. You were, after all, there when my first child was born.” She rolled her eyes as if I should remember this and then waved it off. “Also, Rebecca and you used to get along. It wasn't until a couple of weeks ago when you–”

“Did myself off? That's how Rebecca put it.” I interrupted her, the temperature rising in my face as I remembered the moment from earlier.

“Obliviated yourself,” Hermione finished sternly. “I suppose it is her business to tell you why, because I don't know. As for Draco...” she began to stray from the topic but I urged her to continue. “He is a wonderful, nice man.” Her words seemed to be chosen very carefully. “Everyone changed after the war ended, Pansy. After Harry saved Draco's life–”

“Harry saved Draco?” I sounded more mortified than awed. Hermione gave me a sour look and nodded before continuing.

“After saving Draco, Voldemort's death, and Neville stopping you from hexing Blaise, we all became pretty good friends.”

“I hated the lot of you in school, though!” I decided to express my hate towards the group instead of the other way around, though I'm positive they hated me, too.

“Like I said, Neville stopped you from hexing Blaise. You two talked afterwords and the next thing I knew, he was coming up to us trying to convince us you were a changed woman. After that we moved on with our lives. Ronald Weasley and I–”

“Who?” I interrupted for the millionth time. She was starting to get a bit impatient but she went on with her story anyway.

“Ron Weasley, the ginger haired boy that was always with Harry and I.”

Now her last name made sense! She married that hideous beast? Wasn't he related to that red headed girl I hate so much?

“Ron and I married and had our first child, Rose, which you were there for her birth,” she continued once she decided I remembered who Ron was. “She is two years old, and now I'm ready for our second child. We are hoping it will be a boy this time.” She stopped to rub her belly and smile while she did so. It made me want to vomit, but in hopes for regaining a memory, I let her finish. “Harry and Ron's sister Ginny married: they have a two year old little boy named James now, too. You should see Ginny, her belly is bigger than mine!” I assumed she meant that Ginny was pregnant, too, which I hardly cared about.

“Draco became a changed man. Though, I will admit it was hard to get him to believe he didn't owe Harry in such extremities that he believed he should. However, he is a changed man nonetheless. Finally, Neville and you moved into an apartment together, living happily together until recently.” Hermione finished, looking at me carefully. Was I supposed to care about the lives of all the people I hated during school? I thought she was going to fill in the gaps missing in the last ten years of my life. The only thing that really had anything to do with my life was Draco, and even that disappointed me, having to think my boyfriend ever thought he owed Harry Potter anything. Then it hit me.

“Why was I living with Neville if Draco is my boyfriend?” I demanded, gripping the ends of my chair as tightly as I could.

“You really didn't understand any reasoning behind that story, did you?” Hermione asked stubbornly, her voice shaking as though it were close to tears.

“Of course not!” I retorted quickly. “Why would I want to know anything about those people? All I want to know about is my life!”

“We are your friends! Friends are a part of your life, Pansy!” Hermione practically shouted, causing workers to stair at us. She began to cry so she pulled out a small handkerchief to wipe away her tears. I must admit, it stunned me. The seventeen year old me isn't exactly used to having friends in her life to worry about, but I guess the twenty-seven year old me learned how to manage the acquired taste for friends in the last ten years. Is it really my job to care for all of these people, too?

“He travels a lot,” Hermione said, blowing her nose on the handkerchief.

“Who does?” I asked, the heaviness still in my voice, but I was beginning to calm down a bit more. Her pregnancy hormones were making her too sensitive for me, her friend, to deal with her.

“Draco!” she spluttered. “He travels all across Europe and you don't really have the time for it because you work here and you love it. You stay with Neville because he is the only one without a family that can take you in and the two of you are better off with one another than the rest of us anyway.” There was another loud blow into the handkerchief before Hermione wiped her tears away and looked over at me and then at her watch. “I really must be heading back to work,” she said, calmly this time. “Why don't you go home? You and Neville need to talk. I don't think I can do this anymore, Pansy. I'm so sorry. It's terrible what happened to you, but I can't handle this.” She turned around and left me there alone.

I sat there for a few moments longer, ignoring the stares from other workers. It may have been the baby hormones, but she seemed incredibly upset. What did she mean by something terrible happened to me? Did she mean it was terrible I lost the last ten years of my life because I obliviated myself? It was terrible that Neville didn't save me in time? Or was it terrible because something happened right before I obliviated myself? Deciding that I was thinking too much into it, I went back to the apartment, where Neville was waiting for me.

“You're home early,” Neville pointed out the blatantly obvious as soon as I walked in the door. He was reading an issue of The Quibbler and had a glass of pumpkin juice in his hand. This is the most magical I have seen him since I've lived here. A part of me wanted to comment on this, but the other part of me had a much more important question to ask. I have been putting a lot of thought into the last several minutes between my walk from the floo station a few blocks away to here about what I would ask him. Finally, I have decided to ask him about my life.

“I just finished talking with Hermione,” I said calmly. I have to think about what the twenty-seven year old me would be doing right now, and not the seventeen year old. Then again, it was that old twenty-seven year old who I seemed to be running from. Neville put The Quibbler down and gripped onto his pumpkin juice.

“What did you two talk about?” he asked, seemingly forcing a grin onto his face.

“Mostly about everyone but me,” I said honestly, a slight tinge of annoyance still present in my voice. “She said that I needed to talk to you.”

“What about?” a hint of nervousness rang in Neville's voice.

“Why did I do it?” I asked, giving no more detail because it wasn't necessary. He knew exactly what I was talking about. Why did I obliviate myself? The words came out as easily as that. For the last week I have not even bothered to ask him, not in any way he would answer me anyway. The lack of authority in my voice surprised him.

“Well I–uh– I don't know honestly,” he said, becoming more engaged with the conversation. “Not the full details anyway.”

“What do you know?” I encouraged, deciding that standing while listening to this piece of information would not be a good idea. The chair opposite Neville was already pulled out from the table so I chose to sit there.

“Well,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “you were really sad. For months you were moping around the house.”

“Because of Draco?” my immediate thought escaped my lips before I actually thought about it. Neville's shoulders hardened and he sat up in his seat.

“I don't know.” His voice was hard and he looked oddly uncomfortable. “Do you like the plants?” he asked, trying to change the subject. At first I wanted to get more information out of him, but making him angry would just lead to no talking. Right now, I need him to talk to me, even if the answers come slowly. Truthfully, the plants have been up since the first day of our last fight. They livened the place up somewhat, with their vivid greens and reds providing colour to the room, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

“They're alright. What about pictures?” I asked. I don't know why pictures in his apartment would really mean anything to me, but if I have been living with him for the last several years, surely one of them could jolt something in my memory.

“Why would I need pictures?” he asked, calming down slightly.

“Don't you have any friends or family?” I pushed. Twenty-seven year old me is doing an excellent job with her anger control.

“I'll see what I can do,” Neville said, his face losing colour. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, making me think he was about to be sick. “Pansy,” he said with a slight crack in his voice, “sometimes it isn't always the best to go back and remember. Sometimes when you have the chance, you should try and change things for the better.”

“What am I supposed to do, Neville? Just lie around all day, hoping something comes up to me? I would love it if it worked that way, but without something to trigger my memory, I can't remember anything!” My voice continued to rise until the very last moment where I snapped. Why is everyone trying so damn hard to keep things from me? Was I such a terrible person before that they want me to change who I am? According to Hermione, we're all extremely close friends, and Dr. Nesson made it clear that Neville and I were supposedly best friends once upon a time ago. What is it that I could have done for them not to want the old me back? “I just want some pictures up, or something, that will remind me of who I am!”

“Damnit, Pansy!” Neville slammed his fist on the table, causing his pumpkin juice to tumble over and spill its contents all over The Quibbler and me to jump. “I am trying so hard to work with you! I can't tell you everything because that isn't what you want! You may think it is, but you're much too stubborn to listen! Look at you! Even the things you are told, you don't want to believe them! Everything I do for you, it just isn't good enough! Haven't you stopped, even for a second, and realised what you have done to everyone around you?” His fists were still clenched, turning more and more white as he held them like that, but his voice started to calm down.

“Excuse me?” Venom practically poured form my mouth as I formed my words. “Have I thought about what anyone else is going through because of my actions? Shove off, Neville! That is the most selfish thing I have had anyone say to me since I've woken up! Do you think I like not knowing anything? I'm so ignorant about the past ten years of my life that I don't even bloody well know why I would ever do something like this to myself! The last thing I remember is being perfectly happy with my life! Is it because you came along? Is that it? Once you apparently came into my perfect life, you messed it up with your presence and sent me down a spiraling pit of depression? That sounds about right, doesn't it? What did I ever do to you to deserve depression, Neville? Huh?”

Neville sat there with his head down and stared at the soaked magazine before him. His fists were released, but they now gripped the edges of the table. He didn't say a word to me, and even though I should feel satisfied with shutting the him up, I didn't. I was so close to getting my answers, and now I am more than likely going to get kicked out of the house!

“I just wanted some damn pictures,” I said at last, my chest heaving with anger. I didn't realise it before, but I was standing now. Somewhere in the middle of my rant I must have stood up in the heat of the moment. I folded my arms over my chest so my breathing became less apparent, but Neville never bothered to look up at me. He scooted away from the table, leaving his mess behind, and turned his back on me.

“Stop making me hate you,” he said quietly and sternly before exiting into his room. It caught me off guard, and I wasn't sure what to do. He hated me? With the results of this last week, I would have thought the man practically worshiped me with annoyance, but I never deducted that he hated me. Rebecca Henley, she hates me, but how could Neville? What did I do to him? While I was searching for answers, Neville came back through the door, a load of picture frames in one arm, and his wand in his free hand.

Instantly, without saying a word, he began placing the pictures up with his wand. There were pictures of me, smiling and waving at cameras. The smile didn't look like the smile I have grown up with, but the girl was most definitely me. Neville was in a couple of them with me, but a majority of them were of the whole group of us: Neville, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I. All of us alleged friends were sitting at a booth, smiling, clapping each other on the backs, and gossiping in each others ear. By the looks of it, we were celebrating Hermione's promotion. Even then she was pregnant (with Rose I assume) and so was Ginny. They reminded me of those idiotic girls who were the best of friends and decided to be pregnant together and raise their children together. If it weren't for the fact their children would be related, I'm sure they would have tried setting them up together.

The only person missing from the picture was Draco. Supposedly, by Hermione's story earlier, he was a part of our close friends, too. So why wasn't he in any of the pictures? Suddenly the scenes changed. There were pictures of people that I have never seen in my life, not even in my Hogwarts years. There were a couple of images of an older woman dressed in gaudy, awful clothes. She was old and her head was clad in an overly large, bird looking hat. Whoever this woman is, I hope she isn't anyone related to me.

The next few pictures were of an average, happy looking, young couple. There was a blonde, more heavy around the middle woman, smiling and looking up at a thin, clumsy looking man who patted her shoulder and she rested a hand on his. The pictures were much older than the others with their fading colours and the old fashioned clothes the couple wore. Looking at the both of them, I saw a bit of Neville in them. They must be his parents.

“So you do have family,” I braved, my voice at a much less aggravated tone than it was earlier. He was, after all, doing as I asked.

“That's my mum and dad, Frank and Alice Longbottom.” He sounded distant, and he wasn't looking at me as he explained this. “I never really got to know the real them,” he said dismissively. I looked at him from behind his shoulder, but he didn't notice.

“What happened to them?” I asked, figuring something must have happened for him to become this sad. “Did they die or something?” Neville cringed at my lack of politeness. I'm not exactly the best conversationalist, but I didn't mean anything by it.

“No, they didn't die,” he sighed, forgiving my rudeness. “They're very much alive actually. Do you remember Bellatrix Lestrange?”

Of course I knew Lecrazy! She was Draco's aunt! The last thing I remember of her though was that mother of the ginger cult killing her off. I never really took sides in the war, I just wanted to survive, but Bellatrix sure did have her side picked out. Instead of verbalising my thoughts, I just gave a quick, “Mmm hmm,” and waited for him to continue.

“She used the Cruciatus Curse on them when I was a baby. She tortured them because Voldemort told her to. She tortured them to the point that they, even to this day, do not remember who I am, my gran, or even themselves. At least, I don't think they do. They still walk around, but their eyes are fogged over and they don't really talk. I've never once heard my parents say they love me, but I know they do. They do, even though I'm not entirely sure if they remember anything before the curse.”

“Neville,” I said hesitantly, knowing what he was getting at, “that's different. They were tortured before they lost their memory. I obliviated myself.” My voice was gentle and I laid a hand on his shoulder. It was odd behavior coming from me, and I honestly don't think I remember doing it, but I didn't pull away either. Neville looked down at his shoulder where my hand was and then shrugged it off.

“They didn't lose their memory, they lost themselves,” he said curtly. “I would give anything for them to remember me, and I know they would love to have raised their son if they could. You? You willingly took me– all of us – out of your life, and you expect us to fill pity for you.” He walked off into his room and shut the door. There was a small click from the door locking. I stood in the hallway, a few tears staining my face, as I stared at his door and then at the pictures of his parents. He was right. I am completely selfish.

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