Mnemosyne's Legacy

Chapter 1: Nightmares

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

I watch as the green light speeds towards her. Her deep brown eyes hold my gaze - they paralyse me. I cannot turn away. The combination of malice and sadness that I'm so used to seeing disappears; they soften. Her lips curve into a slight smile, as if she's remembering better times. She opens her mouth and whispers her final, chilling words.

'I'll always love you, Ron.'

'Hermione! Hermione, I'm so sorry! I didn't know!' Ron cried out. He sat up in bed, sweating and breathing heavily. The vision of Hermione's final moments of life never left him. It was as if he was cursed to relive them every night for the rest of his life. He felt that it was a just punishment. He remembered with grief that when he saw the love for him in her eyes and heard her utter those final words, he had finally recognised her; the powerful curse that had once controlled him had been broken by her sacrifice. But it was too late, he would never forgive himself. All those months of torturing her... his mind swam wildly with the thought; what was it about that last confrontation that changed it all?

* * *

Blinding green light reflected throughout the cell, as the spell hit its target. Ron shielded his eyes against its brilliance. Once the light faded, he saw her crumpled figure splayed out, motionless, on the floor. The memories rushed back. Hermione. Guilt swept over him in a rampaging flood. Hermione. No! He trembled; his wand fell from his limp hand, clattering loudly on the cold stone floor as he flung himself towards her still form.

Hermione! Hermione! Oh god, what have I done?! Kneeling beside her, he pulled her into his arms and rocked her body gently, sobbing loudly. Her lifeless eyes stared back at him, full of love and forgiveness. But the damage had been done and there was nothing he could do to change it. Sharp pangs of guilt and regret tortured him, though they were nothing compared to the screaming of his heart tearing in two. He buried his head into her tattered robes and cried.

* * *

Ron mopped his sweat-drenched brow with his sleeve, as he tried to regulate his breathing. He stared into the darkness until he could make out shapes. As he did each night since her death, he lifted the left sleeve of his shirt, staring in utter disgust at the outline of the hideous insignia that marked him for life as one of the Dark Lord's minions. The Dark Mark. He leaned back, resting his head against his pillow. How could he have ever allowed himself to be branded like cattle? He turned on his side, filled with an angry regret.

But that fiend wasn't me, he argued with himself. I didn't know what I was doing.

It doesn't matter, snapped a voice from the depths of his mind. You killed her. And what's worse, she's not the only one you killed, and you know that! He groaned audibly as his stomach churned sickeningly.

Whispers of memories of all he had done while he had been under the Dark Lord's influence tormented him endlessly. He was now at the point where a knife or a bottle of pills were looking more and more inviting, but something always stopped him from resorting to that. It was as if he had some other duty to perform before he finally could rest in peace.

Feeling thirsty, and still queasy to the stomach, Ron pushed the bed covers aside, got up and began to shuffle across the room to the small kitchen for a glass of water. Slightly off balance, he stumbled, as the unyielding flood of memories that haunted him inundated his mind once more; the dam that had once diverted them had been destroyed completely.