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SIYE Time:10:02 on 29th March 2024
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Keeping Even The Broken Promises
By Summer Potter

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance
Warnings: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations
Rating: R
Reviews: 255
Summary: It's been four years since Harry Potter woke up in a strange city, with no memory. Harry begins an unexpected journey to uncover who he is and what he's left behind. Turns out Harry has broken a lot of promises he doesn't remember making. Will he ever regain his memories? Will he ever be able to live up to any of his promises?
Hitcount: Story Total: 84881; Chapter Total: 5218
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
An update at last! Thank you SO much for the Best Romance award! I am so incredibly honoured and touched that this story is being read, critiqued, and enjoyed by so many people! Thanks again! Without further ado, here’s chapter ten : )




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Chapter 10: The Long Road to Recovery


Harry closed his fist when Ginny tugged her hand free. He was trying very hard not to react to losing that physical contact with Ginny. Logically, he knew it shouldn’t bother him, but it did. Instead of feeling alone and defective, he knew he should feel grateful that Ginny was here, supporting him.

His own emotions were running wild as he went through the motions: disbelief, sadness, anger, and back to disbelief again. And as thought about how he felt and how Ginny must be feeling right now, Miranda was telling him not to be discouraged and that she had other things she wanted to try. Miranda was still optimistic, keeping up her professional cool as she discussed possible reasons for why magic wasn’t working, though Harry couldn’t focus on any of them.

He was imagining trying to raise his son in a magical world that didn’t make sense to him. He was imagining sharing James over holidays, living apart from the people he’d once called friends and family. He imagined ending things with Sam–the one person whom he still felt a deep connection to, just so he could maybe one day have the life in the wizarding world that he really wanted. Suddenly his future seemed lonely, uncertain, and incredibly difficult.

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Ginny exclaimed miserably, interrupting Miranda and breaking through Harry’s depressing tirade of thoughts.

Harry glanced up at Ginny, surprised by her outburst. Up until now, Harry had only seen the strong-willed, determined woman who had overcome the challenges of being a single mom and of living in the midst of scandal and shame. Ginny had always kept her emotions in check, making it difficult for him to know what she was thinking or feeling. But now, the mask was gone and Harry could tell that Ginny was just as disappointed as he was, if not more.

Both hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides. She was standing so rigidly, Harry thought she might snap. Tears filled her eyes and her face had gone so pale that even her freckles had had gone white. He hated that she was falling apart because of him.

Seeing her fall apart, he wondered if she had she been this upset all along. He knew Ginny was so strong, but he now realized that she was a far braver and stronger person than he ever gave her credit for.

“I know this is disappointing,” Miranda said gently, fetching the box of tissues for Ginny. “But we shouldn’t give up hope.”

“But it should have worked, shouldn’t it?” Ginny asked, her voice cracking with emotion. “Why can’t he remember? What did they do to him?” Ginny’s eyes locked with his for only a few seconds before she settled her fierce gaze on the healer, demanding answers.

“I still believe Harry’s condition was caused by multiple spells,” Miranda said thoughtfully. “Clearly he’s had more exposure than we originally thought. The person who did this knew exactly what they were doing. I know it’s not very comforting to hear, but when the Aurors launch an investigation, this should help narrow down their suspects. This wasn’t the work of any common criminal–this person is a skilled witch or wizard at mind-altering spellwork.”

“Narrow down their suspects?” Ginny said, her misery turning to cruel laughter. “Do you know how many sociopathic, terrible people issued death threats against him? The list is a MILE long. Right now, I don’t give a damn about who did it or what they did to him. You just have to make him better! Harry needs his memories back!”

Harry was touched by her words and her passion, so much so that his own strength and determination welled up inside him once more. He had to get past this and he would get past this. Taking a calming breath, he asked the healer: “What do we do now?”

Miranda turned her wand in her fingers as she thought. “Normally I would try a variation of specialty potions. They’re quite strong, but they’re usually very effective in removing powerful magic.”

“Let’s try them,” Harry immediately agreed, ready again to try anything. He couldn’t give up hope. Getting better was more than for him–he had Ginny, he had James, and he had friends and family to get better for.

Miranda hesitated, glancing at Ginny nervously before she said: “Due to Harry’s history with the dark arts, I’m reluctant to subject him to tests that I don’t believe will work.”

There was a long pause in which both Harry and Ginny stared at Miranda in horror. Harry was just about to start arguing, but Ginny beat him to it.

“So you’re giving up?” Ginny demanded.

“No, I have another suggestion,” Miranda said seriously. “I’d like to try Legilimancy. It’s invasive and it will have undesirable side effects such as head pain, migraines, confusion, and vivid flashbacks, but I believe it may be the most effective solution to Mr. Potter’s problem.”

Harry frowned at Miranda’s tone. “You make it sound like it’s brain surgery,” he said slowly, concerned by the danger and risks that a doctor’s serious tone usually indicated.

Miranda was about to respond to Harry’s comment, when Ginny interjected with another question.

“Why will this one work?” Ginny demanded. Apparently she had decided to forgo any calm or friendly tone.

“Like I said before, I believe a combination of powerful spells was cast by someone who knew what they were doing. I find it interesting that this magic is so powerful, and yet you show no other signs or symptoms of your mental health being affected. The only sign of your being affected is your thorough belief in an imagined identity and life.”

Conjuring a chair from thin air, Miranda sat to explain further, her expression grave. “A combination of any mind-altering charms could cause moderate to severe psychological damage. An Imperius curse temporarily takes away your control and memories of your actions. They can make you do or believe anything. We often find that victims of repeated and prolonged exposure to this curse have the weakened mental capacity to block it. In extreme cases, they lose brain function”

“Harry has always been able to resist the Imperius curse,” Ginny interjected impatiently. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes, but when a memory charm is used, the victim is momentarily dazed, his mind open and very easily prone to suggestion and compulsion.” She paused to allow Harry to digest this. “If your memories were wiped first, your mind would be open to suggestion. They could make you do anything, convince you of anything, and there would be no fighting it. More importantly, you would never remember anyone attacking you, because that memory would be wiped.”

Harry swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “So these two spells explain why I left my family?”

“Precisely. But it would be safe to say that you were repeatedly exposed to these two spells. Someone repeatedly convincing you to leave, that you were unhappy, and ultimately, that you are someone else entirely. A memory charm would be sufficient to remove you from your life, but memory charms wear off over time. An Imperius curse could make your constructed identity more permanent.”

“So because Harry can resist the Imperius curse, they decided to use more than one charm?” Ginny asked slowly, frowning with uncertainty at the theory.

Miranda nodded. “Together, these spells have an interesting effect. They can increase in potency and can be difficult to lift altogether. Along with being forced to assume a new identity, Harry was probably ordered never to remember who he is.”

It was an interesting theory, Harry thought, but he didn’t really want to believe that someone had exercised this much control over him. Ginny was first to question Miranda’s theory. “So why didn’t the magic you just did work on Harry?”

“Mind-altering charms are usually not used together. Sometimes spells don’t mix well and they can have dangerous side effects when used in combination. This doesn’t bode well for the victim if the person using those spells is an exceptionally powerful wizard. But I think that between the potion and the removal spells I used, the memory charms should have been removed, if not at least substantially weakened. Curses are tricky, though. And repeated and prolonged exposure–especially over several days, as is the case with Mr. Potter–his mind has been weakened, tweaked and forced into this alternate state of mind. With Legilimancy, I can reach the memories that he cannot.”

“But what is Legilimancy?” Harry asked, feeling a little frustrated that Miranda had yet to explain what the hell sort of weird magical brain treatment they wanted to give him.

“Most people confuse it with mind-reading, but it’s much more complex than that. The mind has many layers and some believe that the mind is divided into three areas: our unconscious, conscious, and our sub-conscious. Legilimancy allows me to sift through the layers and interpret the things I find. For example, Legilimancy is most often used to verify if a person is telling the truth.”

“How would that help you?” Ginny asked. “If Harry doesn’t know what the truth is–”

But Miranda interrupted her before Ginny could even finish her argument. “Unconsciously, Harry does know the truth. And perhaps it is these buried feelings that allowed him to be led back to London. His conscious and sub-conscious mind have been persuaded into thinking he is another person. Harry has been directly ordered never to access those memories, but I can access them. For lack of a better way of explaining things, once the memories have been touched, he’ll see them, too. I just have to bring them forward.”

“And this will make me remember?” Harry asked hopefully. “The curse won’t cause me to forget again?”

Miranda hesitated for a moment. “No, if this treatment is successful, the curse will be broken.
I truly believe that this is your best option. I should warn you that there is a small chance that digging up these memories might be extraordinarily painful as the curse tries to resist me.”

Ginny looked worried, too. She moved closer to him, her eyes searching his, trying to convey something that she couldn’t or wouldn’t put into words. “And Harry, there’s a lot of stuff from your past that you would remember...”

Harry forced a brave smile, not really sure what he was agreeing to. He got it–this treatment was difficult, maybe even controversial as far as magical brain treatments went. Trying to keep his hospital-anxiety under control, he was sure that brain surgery had to be far, far more risky than Legilimancy! And whatever terrible or private memories he had that Ginny was talking about… well, being embarrassed and losing his dignity was a small price to pay for his memories.

“I understand,” he told Miranda. He turned to Ginny, still smiling in a reassuring way. “I have to do this.”

Ginny nodded, but she still looked concerned.

“And Harry… you understand that this is very invasive, perhaps even painful? It is not pleasant to have one’s mind read, let alone have someone digging around for an extended period of time?” Miranda asked.

“Yes,” he replied firmly. “I’m ready. I need my memories back. I’ll do anything for that.”

He caught Ginny’s eye again, and was surprised when she smiled and slid her hand back into his. Her smile didn’t erase the look of real concern in her expression, but he saw hope in her eyes once more. He squeezed her hand in his, silently praying for both their sakes that this would work.

Miranda nodded and stood. “I’ll just have to get you to sign a waiver. I will administer a sleeping draught since your thoughts are easier to navigate when you are asleep. Your mind naturally will try and fight against me, though you’ll ultimately be unable to stop it.”

Harry nodded, trying not to panic at the warning. He knew if he thought about it too much, his anxiety about hospitals might kick in and he’d embarrass himself with a full-out panic attack in front of Ginny. Harry thought it was probably good that he couldn’t remember anything specific he might want to hide. It made agreeing much easier when he didn’t know what humiliating or terrible things he would soon remember.

Miranda conjured a waiver and held it out to him. Harry gently let go of Ginny’s hand to sign the waiver, before taking her hand again. He was unbelievably grateful that she was here with him.

Miranda excused herself for a moment, leaving Harry and Ginny alone again. When the door closed, Ginny squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. “You look nervous.”

Mentally kicking himself for being such a baby when it came to hospitals, Harry swallowed his fear and tried to return the smile. “I’m okay. Maybe I’ll remember why I have such an aversion to doctors and hospitals after this.”

“You were in and out of them a lot growing up…” Ginny told him sadly.

This surprised him. “I was sick?”

“No, danger found you–if you didn’t find it first.” Harry was pretty sure she wasn’t kidding, but he still laughed anyway.

“Just remember that whatever you see, you’ve already survived it. It’ll be just like having a nightmare,” she told him softly. “They can’t hurt you. You just have to be brave and remember that you’ll wake up soon, and it’ll be over.”

Her soothing tone made him think that this speech was something she’d often told their son. That made him feel better, too.

“Is that what you tell James when he has nightmares?” Harry asked lightly, trying to distract himself.

“Yeah. He’s pretty brave.” Ginny smiled down at him shyly, her eyes welling up with tears again. “Just like his dad…”

Harry swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat at the kindness and warm tone that went with those words. “Wonder if it’ll be weird to become someone else. Will I still think the same? Will I be different?”

“You’re not that different,” Ginny said. And then she grinned and nudged him with her shoulder. “Actually, the new you attracts far less trouble, but other than that… you’re pretty much the same.”

“Hopefully I’ll take that trait with me when I remember who I was.”

“I’d appreciate that. I don’t want James taking after you in that respect. I’m already worried he’s going to take after Charlie to go study the world’s most dangerous species of dragons.”

Harry grimaced at the thought. No, his son was not studying fire-breathing, man-eating mythical creatures. “Remind me to make James watch Jurassic Park. It’s about dinosaurs, but maybe we can scare him out of that career plan.”

Ginny’s blank expression made Harry realize he’d have to make both Ginny and James watch Jurassic Park. He’d probably also have to make sure he could use his Blu-Ray player in the wizarding world since no one seemed big on electronics. He didn’t think he could be this other Harry without his Blu-Ray player or his laptop.

His silly concerns disappeared when Miranda returned with another goblet and a set of white hospital robes. Ginny and Miranda gave him privacy as he undressed and got under the sheets, grateful, at least, that he’d be asleep for the actual magic-part. Ginny sat beside him and took his hand wordlessly. Miranda brought Harry the potion and Harry drank it quickly, glad that it tasted better than the last potion. He lay back against the pillows, startled by how quickly the sleeping potion began to work. As he fell asleep, he made sure he was squeezing Ginny’s hand. He felt a bit like a helpless child as he drifted off into oblivion, but hanging onto Ginny’s hand made him feel grounded and safe.

At first, Harry knew nothing.

And then he felt something...odd disturbing his deep sleep. There was a strange pressure in his head, followed by a probing sensation that painfully interrupted the nothingness of deep sleep. It was like a hand physically reaching into his brain and feeling around. Milliseconds after he was aware of the hand, the pain intensified and sudden panic filled his numb thoughts. He tried to push against the invisible force, but he knew it was a losing battle. The harder he pushed, the harder the hand pushed back. And then there was the heaviness of the sleeping potion. The urge to slip back into nothingness came in waves, but the sensation of the hand digging around in his head kept him from unconsciousness. In short, it was torture.

The invisible hand was searching for something, clawing through his brain until it got to the very bottom of his skull. It was looking for the plug in the bottom of a deep, black tub. Harry wanted to cry out, but physically, he was asleep. Trapped inside his own head, he was forced to lie there and deal with the agony of someone digging around in his head.

It felt like hours before anything happened but the pain. But suddenly, the memories came and they were a slight distraction from the pain of the invasion.

Having his memories brought up from his unconscious was like watching an out-of-order movie on fast-forward. As each memory came up, it just made sense, which would have been reassuring if he wasn’t desperate for this torture to end. Asleep and not in control of his own thoughts, he couldn’t reason that it was a healer doing this, or that the end result was worth this agony. All that mattered was that someone was in his mind, tampering with his thoughts and invading everything that was private and personal.

Sometimes the streams of memories slowed, lingering as the hand searched for every miniscule detail. It was like the hand knew where his mind was trying to guard itself. It scratched and picked at his brain until the memory, in entirety, was released before the hand moved onto a different memory.

It felt like hours–days, even–as his mind was searched. He had no conception of how much time was passing, only that each time a new memory was dug up, the pain would intensify, decrease, and then swell once more in relentless waves.

Because the memories weren’t in order, he couldn’t judge how much longer he had to be subjected to this torture. They jumped in time periods and in importance. Some were small moments, seemingly insignificant like the taste of Mrs. Weasley’s homemade pies, or the way his dormitory smelled at Hogwarts. Others were hugely important and extraordinarily vivid.

He was a tiny boy, locked in a dark cupboard and begging to be let out. His cousin was laughing as Harry pounded little fists on the door. He shrunk back onto his creaky bed, wishing that someone–anyone–would come save him from the Dursleys.

He was seventeen, feeling hatred and darkness in the middle of a forest. To his right, Hermione and Ron were playing a card game. Their smiles were pained as they played, trying to distract themselves from the impossible task of finding and destroying Horcruxes.

He was twelve, and flying on a broomstick. The wind whipping past him as he soared higher and higher. He felt free. The golden snitch glinted in the September sun and Harry shot after it.

He was eleven and letters addressed to him were pouring into the room like rain. One letter bounced off his glasses and another gave him a small paper cut between his fingers.

He was getting married and about to kiss Ginny, the most beautiful woman in the world. She smiled widely at him as he lifted her wedding veil.

He thrust his sword upwards into the Basilisk, only to feel one of its teeth pierce his arm. The venom burned as it began to spread, but he held the sword upwards anyway, determined to win. His injured arm throbbed and shook under the pressure.

He was surrounded by one hundred black Dementors. It was so the cold that it was difficult to think, let alone breathe. He had to save Sirius. He had to stay awake.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all smiles as they clinked glasses over dinner over Ginny getting onto the Harpies. He was so proud of her.

He felt alone and angry and targeted. He felt betrayal and angst and fear. He felt empty and hopeless.

A flash of green light and a blood-curdling scream made him whirl around on the muddy grass. He felt his stomach drop somewhere into the vicinity of his feet, praying to God it wasn’t Ginny. The wall to his left exploded and he was thrown several feet onto the cold, uneven floor of the corridor. His ears were ringing loudly as he screamed Ginny’s name.

Aunt Marge laughed as an angry bulldog chased him across the yard. He scrambled across the grass to the tree, launching himself onto a low branch. He swung his legs up, managing to avoid the dog’s teeth.

He pulled the broom cupboard door closed behind him and Ginny giggled, grabbing his shirt collar and tugging him into a passionate kiss. His heart hammered out an uneven rhythm in his chest as they kissed, neither of them worried about being caught.

“GRYFFINDOR!” Harry removed the sorting hat and made his way over to Gryffindor table, vaguely aware that everyone was staring at him. He sat down, feeling a little shaky, but very much glad that he wouldn’t have to get back on the train.

There was Lord Voldemort and his killing curse meeting his disarming spell with the force of two boulders hitting each other.

There was smoke, screaming, and curses flying in every direction. A Death Eater appeared out of no where and grabbed Hermione by her hair, roughly tugging her against him. She screamed, but Harry and Ron both attacked with a stunning curse that made him crumple. Seconds after Hermone had hurried into Ron’s arms, a giant’s fist smashed through the wall, burying the Death Eater in rubble. Blood was quickly pooling beneath the rubble and Harry turned away, his stomach churning.

He remembered all those who had died for him, around him, because of him. He saw faces, he saw lifeless bodies, and so much destruction.

But intermittent with the darkness was the light. There was Ginny, and the sound of her laughter. There was Ron and Hermione. There was Sirius and Lupin, and all the Weasleys. There was the birth of his son, and the feeling of James grabbing his finger for the first time. There were promotions and parties and perfect moments.

There was the moment the war was over. As Ginny helped him up, they kissed briefly. It wasn’t a passionate or long kiss, but it would become one of his favourite moments with her. In that moment, he promised himself he would marry this girl.

He remembered himself, in all the hundreds of thousands of little details that made up his identity. He didn’t like peanut butter and jam sandwiches, but the combination was good on toast. He liked the right side of the bed. He didn’t mind spiders, unless they were larger than normal. He liked Ginny best when she just woke up, her hair a mess of wild waves. He wanted two kids and he wanted to teach them both how to ride their first brooms. He secretly thought Hermione made better cookies than Ginny, but he’d never tell his wife that.

Finally, at long last, the memories slowed and the pain receded. In the hazy fog that was the state of being half-asleep, Harry became aware of how fast his heart was pounding, and how difficult it was to breathe as the hand continued to poke and prod him.

He fought for air, fought to come up from the fog so he could prevent a second attack of his mind. Through an irrational and a desperate longing for consciousness, Harry was able to open his eyes and gasp for breath. Above him, Ginny and Miranda were still there, but this time, he managed to stay above the potion’s weight.

He tried to sit up, but he was held down by real binds around his wrists. He struggled viciously, in a blind panic to escape the attack, but very slowly, he remembered where he was. He forced himself to stop struggling, focusing instead on Ginny. His heart nearly broke when he saw she was crying. Ginny reached out and touched his face, stroking his cheek with her soft hand. The feeling of her fingers on his skin was calming and it helped him to relax. He trusted Ginny. With her, he was in no danger.

Miranda got his attention and spoke in a loud, clear voice. “Mr. Potter, I need you to listen to me. You need to try and relax. Close your eyes and go back to sleep. It’s all over.”

Wanting to calm down and actually doing it were two very different things, but Harry tried anyway. His wrists flexed against the tight bonds, wishing he wasn’t restrained. He turned his head to look at Ginny again, wishing he could hold her. He didn’t want to sleep again. He didn’t want to hear the screams or see the things he’d worked so hard to forget.

Seeing Ginny’s expression was what actually got him to calm down. He realized he was scaring her, and he didn’t want that.

“You’re safe,” Miranda repeated soothingly, adjusting his blankets. “I’ll remove the restraints just as soon as you fall back asleep. Just breathe deeply.”

But Harry was still looking at Ginny, hating that she was hurting because of him. “I’m sorry,” he said thickly. The words came out a little slurred, but she seemed to understand.

Ginny wiped her tears with her free hand. “I’m right here. Just go to sleep…”

The weight of the potion rolled over him again and he closed his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to sleep. He wanted to search his own memories and reacquaint himself with who he was. He wanted to tell Ginny he loved her and he was sorry. At some point, he fell asleep and his thoughts became calm.

*~*

The next time Harry woke up, he was less aware of returning to consciousness. He felt as if he had barely slept at all. His limbs were heavy under the sheets and he wished he was still asleep.

It was the sound of a soft sigh very close to him that really made him aware of his surroundings. He remembered he was at St. Mungo’s and that Miranda had used Legilimancy to cure him. He had a pounding headache, and a lot of memories in his head that had definitely not been there earlier.

Harry opened his eyes and found himself looking at Ginny, who was sleeping in a chair that she’d pulled right up to the side of his bed. He glanced down at his hands and happily noted that he was no longer restrained. Although sitting up made his head throb, he was too distracted by all the new thoughts, emotions, and memories. How were these memories his? The feeling of remembering was rather odd. It felt like a jumble of memories and aspects of someone else’s identity had just been shoved into his head.

Harry looked at Ginny again, really focusing on her. Or as much as he could in the dim lighting of the room. What time was it? How long had he slept for? She was perched on the edge of the chair, her arms folded under her head as she slept on the bed. Her red hair was splayed across her shoulders and back. She was even snoring a little bit.

Ginevra Molly Weasley. The youngest Weasley, and the only daughter of Molly and Arthur. In descending order, her siblings were Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron. They lived in a house called the Burrow. He started dating Ginny when he was sixteen.

All of these things were definitely in his head. It took a little longer to put all these facts together, but sifting through everything in his head was definitely preferable to the blank wall that had been there before.

He wasn’t sure how much else he knew–it made him nauseous to think so much right now. How fair was that? Thinking was making him feel sick. He’d take it, though.

Harry smiled to himself, so happy he thought he might cry. Finally, he was home. He could survive here; he could have a life here. He was a wizard. He had a wand… somewhere. What was his wand core? The first thought that came to him was that he had the same wand core as Voldemort.

What wand core did they share again? Easy. Phoenix feather.

Ginny sighed in her sleep, turning her head into the hospital blanket. Harry smiled at the sound, glad that she was still here, right by his side. He didn’t deserve her. But after everything he’d unwillingly put her through, here she was. She still cared about him. That was good–because he loved her.

God he’d missed her. His chest ached with the intensity of his missing her. He loved her so much that it hurt. And even stranger was the fact that everything from the last four years–all of his feelings and his thoughts–were still just as vivid to him. It was like he’d combined two people into one.

He did love Sam–those feelings were still real to him, but they’d changed, too. He also remembered what loving Ginny felt like, and that was another experience altogether. He didn’t regret the last four years with Sam, even if the last four years had been a bit rocky. But even if he didn’t love Ginny, he wasn’t really a muggle journalist from New York. He had a past that shaped who he was. And this person, the wizard, the person who had survived a lot of dark magic, who had had the world set on his shoulders at age seventeen, couldn’t love Sam the way she deserved to be loved. And he was sure that Sam couldn’t love the person he really was.

There was no choice to be made: Ginny or Sam. It would always be Ginny, and as sad as that was for Sam and their future, Ginny was the only person who knew him and loved everything about him–the good and the bad.

He thought back on all the times that he’d gone to a ‘dark place’ after the war. Even Ron and Hermione had had a difficult time with him, but Ginny nearly always managed to get through to him. She just… understood.

Being with Ginny was right and he would end things with Sam the first chance he got. It would hurt and it would be awful, but it was right. He belonged with Ginny, in England, with his family. And Sam deserved to find the person she was meant to be with.

Harry watched Ginny as she slept, wondering if she would ever really forgive him. He believed that she wanted to forgive him, but he had no idea how long it would take for them to patch things up. Staring at her now with all his emotions and memories bubbling up at the surface, he wasn’t sure he could wait long before he went crazy. He hoped she didn’t push him away for long. Even if he hadn’t been aware of missing her, four years apart was too much time to be apart.

Before he could stop himself, Harry gently reached out and brushed a stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her hair was soft in his fingers, just like he remembered. He wondered if it still smelled like coconut. Her hair was shorter than the last time he’d seen her. He liked it. It curled naturally and framed her face. Harry pushed another strand behind her ear, half-glad that she was asleep. He always loved watching her when she slept.

Harry was about to pull his hand back when he spotted the tattoo behind her ear. Clearly, this was a recent development in their time apart. He’d nearly missed it, hidden behind her hair, but there it was: a tiny, impressively detailed tattoo of a snitch in black ink. Harry smiled as he stared at the tattoo, wondering when she’d gotten it and why. He didn’t remember her ever wanting a tattoo.

Ginny must have felt his fingers in her hair because she opened her eyes and sat up, blinking sleepily. “Harry! You’re awake! How are you?” Her eyes searched his face nervously as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“I’m…” the nausea and the confusion initially wanted to make him saying “okay,” but he changed his mind and smiled. He was better than okay. “I’m good. It worked. I remember.”

Harry didn’t expect Ginny to launch herself at him in a hug, so when she did, he lost a few seconds of enjoying the hug to debating the possibility of him throwing up as a result of the sudden movement. When he decided it was safe to embrace her, he hugged her tighter, pulling her onto the bed. Ginny curled up next to him and buried her face in the crook of his neck as she released a sob of relief and joy.

His own eyes burned again with unshed tears as he stroked her hair and her back. God, he’d missed her. Harry wanted nothing more than to hold her here forever and tell her how sorry he was.

He marveled again at the things he’d forgotten. Like how small she looked when she was tucked up against him. Or how she fit perfectly into his arms. He forgot the smell of her flowery perfume and how it felt to have her pressed against him.

As he held her, he silently promised her that nothing would ever keep him from her ever again. Ever.

“I can’t believe it,” she sobbed. “You remember?”

“I remember,” he reassured her, still feeling surprised that it was true.

Ginny pulled away slightly to look at his face, still crying. When he locked his gaze with her soft brown eyes, he reached out to touch her face and wipe away the tears that streamed down her flushed cheeks. He wished she wasn’t crying so he could see her beautiful smile. He had gone too long without seeing her smile. He wanted her to feel as happy, as relieved, and as perfect as he felt.

Harry brushed her hair behind her ear, his heart beating loudly in his chest. She smiled a watery smile and shook her head in disbelief. Unbelievably happy that he could remember, he smiled back and then closed the distance between them to kiss her.

Kissing Ginny was one of the many experiences he hadn’t been able to miss, but the moment his lips found hers, he knew he would have missed it, if he could have. All their problems and all the things they would have to sort out disappeared the moment he kissed her. Best of all, the kiss seemed to finally break Ginny free from her careful composure. Her hands squeezed his forearms, and then slid greedily up his chest, and up to his neck. She leaned in and kissed him back just as passionately, locking her arms around his neck and tugging herself closer.

He wound his arms around her waist as he deepened the kiss. He didn’t mean for a soft moan to escape him as they settled against his pillows, but he instantly regretted it when Ginny suddenly pulled back and bit her lip uncertainly.

Harry knew her well enough that she was upset for having lost control like that. He figured he knew what her arguments were: “let’s take things slowly” or “this isn’t the time.” She probably was also concerned about the future and about how his remembering would affect James. As much as he wanted to reassure her and try to ease her fears, he also knew there was nothing he could do. He shouldn’t have pushed his desires on her so quickly. She had been through emotional hell since his return and she barely had enough time to accept that he was here at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, gently releasing his hold on her. “I shouldn’t have done that… it’s too fast.”

“Too fast,” Ginny agreed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” she grinned awkwardly and shifted back onto her chair.

There was a long minute of silence when Harry wondered just how off-track they were. He fully expected to give her time to accept that he would be here and that he loved her, but he wasn’t sure how much time. And the more he studied her embarrassed expression, the more he began to realize a much deeper fear. Did Ginny even want to be together at the end? Four years changed a lot of things about a person…

Ginny cleared her throat and she re-donned her mask of composure. Harry tried to hide his disappointment that they weren’t going to discuss the kiss or what was bothering her. Then again, they were in a hospital and there wasn’t exactly a lot of privacy.

“So you remember? You remember everything?”

In spite of the disappointment he was feeling, it was hard not to smile in answer to this question. “Everything. It feels a little jumbled, but I think it’s all there.”

When Ginny smiled a wide smile, one untouched by her embarrassment, his heart skipped a beat in his chest. There it was; Godric, he’d missed that smile. How could he have ever forgotten how much he loved her? How could he have forgotten anything about this woman?

Her expression darkened and she leaned in slightly, her pretty mouth drooping into a frown. “What about the person who did this to you? Can you remember who it was? Can you remember them…doing anything to you?”

Harry leaned back against his pillows and he sifted through his memoires. The harder he tried to think about the day he left, the foggier his head got. Maybe those memories were the hardest to access because they were guarded the best?

“No,” he sighed, trying not to worry about it too much. “I’m sure it’ll come to me later.”

Ginny nodded once, her expression hard. Harry could tell that she was counting on his remembering. She would want justice to be served. To be fair, so did he. But his priorities right now all revolved around Ginny and repairing the damage he’d done. He would go back to the Aurors, beg for his job back, and also use his old connections and influence to catch this sociopath.

Harry looked distractedly around the room, realizing again that it must be late. “How long was I asleep?”

Ginny glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly midnight. Miranda said you should probably stay the night. Legilimancy took a lot out of you.”

“Mere minutes with Snape learning Occulumency took a lot out of me,” Harry replied darkly. “This felt like hours.”

“It was only about fifteen minutes, actually. It must have been painful.”

“It was.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” she murmured, looking truly sorry.

“I’m just sorry it was necessary,” he replied dully.

Ginny looked as if she wasn’t sure how to respond, and frankly, Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say to her, either. He did know that he needed to keep her talking so that she felt more comfortable.

“What state do you think my house is in?” Harry asked, keeping his tone light. “Inhabitable?”

“Definitely. I’ll help you clean it, and I’m sure my mum would pitch in.”

That was good news. He very much wanted to sleep in his own bed, and not crash on anyone’s couch. He’d been feeling like a nomad for far too long–though it wasn’t even that long. “I want to get that done as soon as possible. I wouldn’t want James to get attacked by doxies or boggarts, or whatever else has taken up residence there.”

Perhaps it was the late hour, but Ginny didn’t bother to disguise her skepticism. “You’re keeping your house here, then?”

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. Yes, Ginny was definitely serious doubtly his intentions. “Where else would I live?”

Ginny shrugged her slender shoulders, keeping her gaze calmly on his. “You’re not going back to New York? What about your girlfriend?”

He was too tired and too nauseous to play these games with her. He reached out and took her hand, gently squeezing it. “I told you earlier today that I was staying here–I meant it then, and I mean it now. I want to be here with you and James. And now that I remember… I mean, did you really think I wouldn’t stay?”

Ginny looked uncomfortable at the question and it made his heart ache that she really questioned whether or not he would stay here with her. Part of him wanted to be angry that they’d overcome so much together, and yet now she doubted him.

Harry sat up in spite of the nausea and the way his head throbbed, but he didn’t care. He laced his fingers with hers and held her wary gaze. “Ginny, I love you. I’m going to end things with her… we’re a family and we should be together.”

Ginny swallowed with some difficulty, her eyes burning into his. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. “You love her, too.”

Harry stared at her for a long moment. Yes, it was true. He did love Sam, but it wasn’t the same. He was certain that he could not live without Ginny. And as he thought back at the dream that had brought him back to London, he was even more convinced of his feelings. The very fact that he’d been able to dream of Ginny showed that his love for her was so powerful that it had broken through the curse.

Harry was about to tell her all of this, but Ginny spoke first, dropping her gaze to their intertwined hands.

“Your phone rang almost ten times while you were asleep. I finally answered it when it wouldn’t stop.” She hesitated before meeting his eyes again. “It was her.”

Harry silently cursed, praying that Sam didn’t freak out on Ginny or vice versa. Both women had something of a temper. “You talked to her?”

Ginny nodded stiffly. “Briefly. She wanted you to know that she’s here… in London. And that you should go see her. I wrote the address down of the hotel she’s staying at.” Ginny gestured to a notepad on his bedside table with her free hand.

Harry’s heart sank. Sam had flown all the way from New York just to talk to him? He had known he’d have to break her heart, but he hated that he would have to do it after she had flown all the way over here for him.

“Things haven’t been going well for a while,” Harry finally admitted when he didn’t know what else to say. “I think she knows what’s coming. I think she expects that I’ll do the right thing.”

When Ginny didn’t speak, he reached out with his free hand to touch her face. He was startled and hurt when she flinched in the tiniest of ways at his touch. “Are you okay?”

Ginny nodded quickly and forced a smile that Harry knew at once was forced. “You should get some more sleep, it’s late.”

The conversation was over for now. Harry was willing to let it be for now. He hated fighting before bed. He wouldn’t push Ginny too far tonight. “Yeah,” he agreed. “You should go home and sleep. You look exhausted.” He reluctantly released her hand.

Ginny hesitated before standing to leave, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. She pushed her hair back from her face. “Mum is at my house with James… I should let her go home,” she said, as if she needed another reason to leave.

“Go,” he encouraged her gently, managing a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay,” she murmured. She was about to turn and walk away, but she paused. “I’m really happy you’re back to being you again,” she said sincerely.

He smiled back at her as he eased back against his pillows. “Me too.”

Ginny hesitated again before leaning down and wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Harry hugged her back, feeling a little better about the whole situation. A hug. That was a good sign. She pulled back, promising to come back first thing in the morning with James. The prospect of seeing James again also helped alleviate his feelings of disappointment.

Harry’s smile faded as he watched her leave. She would never know how much it was killing him to watch her walk away. When the door closed and he was alone, he closed his eyes, trying not to think about her choosing to leave. He was trying to ignore the fact that four years ago, she would never have left his side. He turned his back on the door and sighed heavily. Once he got out of here, he would win her back if it was the last thing he did.

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