Chapter 1 : Total Eclipse of the Heart
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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).
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.
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.
“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.
“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 piss off, 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...
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 ass. 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 damn bloody day again!” Well Fuck you, 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.
Fuck you, Blaise Zabini!
Fuck you, Harry Potter!
And Fuck you, Neville What's-Your-Name!
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 fuck 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 balls off.
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 pissed 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? “Piss off!” 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?