Obliviate

Her biggest fear is knowing that she wouldn't change a single thing. She wouldn't take back a single kiss, including the first wet, confused one they shared, the kiss that was supposed to make a statement. She wouldn't take back a single caress, a stolen moment in the Astronomy Tower, or any of the many nights when sleeping in each others arms was enough.

She wouldn't take anything back; despite this everything had been taken from her. She doesn't remember the feel of her lover in her arms, she doesn't remember how their bodies fit together perfectly; as if they were made for each other, and she doesn't remember waking up every morning knowing that sharing her bed with Hermione was enough.

And enough it was. It was enough to overlook years of hate. Enough to overlook years of training. Enough to turn her back on everyone she knew; everyone she loved. Enough to love a Mudblood.

And she loved Hermione. Even when she tried to convince herself it was just a fleeting crush. Even when she told her mother and father, 'it was just something to do for fun, experimenting.' Even when Hermione did any of the million things that reminded her that Hermione was human too.

If she could remember she would want to remember the night she first said, "I love you." She had never planned to and had always imagined Hermione would say it first. But that wasn't the case. Hermione had had a particularly trying day. Harry had just defeated the Dark Lord and was in a coma, NEWTS were less than a week away, and Hermione was having a hard time balancing studying, checking on Harry, and Head Girl duties.

She just wanted to do something for Hermione, something nice, something special. With the help of Ron she was able to set up a nice evening alone. She had Hermione*s favorite Muggle sweets, butterbeer, and a room where no one would bother them. When Hermione looked her in the eyes and said, 'Thank you. This means so much to me, why did you go through all the trouble?' She had planned to say something nonchalant, non-committal, instead she said, 'Don't you know I love you?'

And that was all it took. There fate was seal as soon as those words came out of her mouth. They made love for the first time that night. And if she could remember anything, she would to remember this above all.

But Pansy doesn't remember a moment of this. She doesn't remember the love she shared. She doesn't remember who gave her the scar on her stomach, the one just small enough to not be noticed by most; but small enough for her to stare at it and know it is important, even if she can*t remember why. There are far too many things Pansy doesn't remember now. And when she shows up on the doorstep of the modest home her parent's have kept she doesn't remember why she's 'still no longer welcome in this house.' She only knows she's alone, and she doesn't remember why.