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nightseer @ : Fic: Forgotten MemoriesTitle: Forgotten Memories
Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy VIII or Harry Potter
Summary: Sometimes the good reminds you of the bad and you just don’t want to look.
Characters/Pairings: Harry, Hermione, Irvine/Selphie
Author’s Notes: I’ve discovered I have this thing for photos and albums and just pictures in general. They’re becoming my favorite plot device within this universe.
Forgotten Memories
“What’s this?”
Harry looked up from digging through his trunk and found Hermione was sitting on his bed and flipping through his black photo album, one of the two albums Matron had let him and Selphie dig through her shoeboxes of photos to make. Picking through the boxes and placing the pictures just so in the big books was the last thing he and Selphie had done together before she was shipped out to Trabia. Harry stomped down his instinctive urge to snatch it away from Hermione. Hermione didn’t mean anything by it, she was just curious, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to ignore how careless she was being with his privacy. “It’s a photo album.”
Hermione rolled her eyes as she turned the page. “I know that, Harry, but I’ve never seen you look at it before. I’ve seen you carry around the one Hagrid gave you, but never this one.”
Harry gave up on finding his spare set of hair ties and closed his trunk. “I don’t like other people looking at this one,” he said as he gently tugged it free of her fingers. He sat down next to her, cradling the open album in his lap. “I don’t get to write home like you guys do. It feels weird when other people ask how they’re doing and I can’t tell them.”
“Oh.”
Hermione sounded regretful and Harry could feel her eyes watching him as he traced the edges of a group photo, the last one Matron had taken before Quistis was adopted. Harry didn’t look up from the photo to see if her expression matched her voice. He didn’t want to see that pitying, sympathetic expression Hermione always wore when something reminded her how strange his life was. Rabbit sat down on the floor next to him, and Harry absently patted her head, letting her presence calm him before he snapped at one of the eleven students in the school who didn’t think he was crazy for saying Voldemort was back.
“What was it like?” Hermione asked suddenly. She blushed when Harry glared at her, but she didn’t back down. “I mean, what was it like there? Your magic, the way people lived, the people, everything had to be different.”
Harry grimaced and looked back at the album. Hyne, he should have taken the album away the second she found it. He glanced at her from under his hair, glad his tie had broken in Charms and he could use his hair to hide behind, and sighed. Hermione wasn’t going to let this go. Maybe for the day, but not forever.
“Why do you want to know?” Harry asked, caught between kicking her out of his dorm and giving into her curiosity. Either way, the minute she was gone, he was putting several strong wards on the album so no one else would find it. “Really, Hermione, why?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Irvine pulled the large, leather bound book from the box and wiped at the thick layer of dust, barely making an impact in the gray layer of fuzz covering the black album. “Selphie, darlin’, when was the last time you opened this thing?”
Selphie barely cast a glance at the book before she went back to hanging her small collection of dresses in their closet. Selphie squealed happily, but silently. Their closet, not her closet. Irvine had finally agreed to move into a couple’s dorm with her, a sign of commitment. It wasn’t a ring or even a promise to quit flirting with random girls, but it was progress. Then she remembered his question. “Not in years. It hurt too much. I think it’s from when we were at the orphanage…”
Selphie froze in the act of hanging her favorite yellow jumper dress, then dropped it on the closet floor as she raced to the bed where Irvine was going through her memory box. She shoved her first nunchaku back into the tattered cardboard box and plopped down on the bed next to him. She snatched the album from his hands and scrubbed at the dust on the cover, revealing faded silver writing. Writing she had done with a silver glitter-marker Matron had given her just for the task.
“Oh, I completely forgot,” Selphie cried as she opened the book to a random page. “Squall asked if any of us had any pictures like Seifer did and I forgot.”
Irvine put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, letting her know he was there. “I don’t think he’ll be mad. All of us have trouble rememberin’ things from those days.”
Selphie smiled weakly at him, a sad imitation of her normal carefree grin, before looking at the pictures inside the album again, a fragment of a memory returning as she turned the pages. “Harry and I were the last ones to leave and we were sooo bored, so Matron gave us these and some markers and let us go through her old pictures.” She frowned, trying to make sense of what she was remembering. An old man, a letter, and a tabby cat didn’t add up to much, but the flashes were giving her chills. “I…I think she let us do it more for Harry than me, something about Harry not coming back for a long time.”
“Selphie?”
“I think you better go get Squall, Irvy,” Selphie said quietly, staring at a picture of a twelve year old Squall and an eight year old Harry playing fetch with a giant Estharian Hunter. Hyne, those dogs were huge, practically little ponies. The one in the picture wasn’t full grown and its head looked like it would reach Squall’s shoulder in the picture. “Just Squall. Not Quistis, Zell, Seifer, or Rinoa. We were the only ones there then.”
“You’re starting to worry me, darling’,” Irvine said. “Why just Squall?”
Selphie licked her lips nervously and looked Irvine in the eye. “I think I know where he is, and the others won’t believe me ‘cause they won’t be able to remember. It’s just too weird for them to believe without the memories as proof.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, like she was preparing to have it out with Snape, and said, “Because I think it would be good for you to remember the good, not only the bad. These people are your family and you never talk about them, not even to wonder where they are now. You need to let some of the pain go before you…I don’t know, kill Dumbledore for not letting you go back.”
Harry laughed softly, the sound practically forced out of him. Hermione was the only person who knew of his anger towards the Headmaster and treated it like it was a joke, probably because she couldn’t imagine him actually going off on the old man. Then again, Hermione was also the person who helped him hunt through the library and the bookstores, looking for a way for him to go home. Harry knew she wasn’t giving her enough credit for all her help.
“He’s useful as a symbol, Harry,” Hermione said, accurately guessing at his thoughts. “That’s the only reason I haven’t sent everything I know to Skeeter yet. When everyone finally accepts Voldemort is back, they’ll need someone to rally behind. I’d rather it be Dumbledore, less pressure on you.”
“Thanks, Hermione.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at him and tapped a picture of Zell, Selphie, and Irvine building a sand castle. “Now, we have another hour before Ancient Runes. Tell me about your family.”
“What’s this?”
Harry looked up from digging through his trunk and found Hermione was sitting on his bed and flipping through his black photo album, one of the two albums Matron had let him and Selphie dig through her shoeboxes of photos to make. Picking through the boxes and placing the pictures just so in the big books was the last thing he and Selphie had done together before she was shipped out to Trabia. Harry stomped down his instinctive urge to snatch it away from Hermione. Hermione didn’t mean anything by it, she was just curious, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to ignore how careless she was being with his privacy. “It’s a photo album.”
Hermione rolled her eyes as she turned the page. “I know that, Harry, but I’ve never seen you look at it before. I’ve seen you carry around the one Hagrid gave you, but never this one.”
Harry gave up on finding his spare set of hair ties and closed his trunk. “I don’t like other people looking at this one,” he said as he gently tugged it free of her fingers. He sat down next to her, cradling the open album in his lap. “I don’t get to write home like you guys do. It feels weird when other people ask how they’re doing and I can’t tell them.”
“Oh.”
Hermione sounded regretful and Harry could feel her eyes watching him as he traced the edges of a group photo, the last one Matron had taken before Quistis was adopted. Harry didn’t look up from the photo to see if her expression matched her voice. He didn’t want to see that pitying, sympathetic expression Hermione always wore when something reminded her how strange his life was. Rabbit sat down on the floor next to him, and Harry absently patted her head, letting her presence calm him before he snapped at one of the eleven students in the school who didn’t think he was crazy for saying Voldemort was back.
“What was it like?” Hermione asked suddenly. She blushed when Harry glared at her, but she didn’t back down. “I mean, what was it like there? Your magic, the way people lived, the people, everything had to be different.”
Harry grimaced and looked back at the album. Hyne, he should have taken the album away the second she found it. He glanced at her from under his hair, glad his tie had broken in Charms and he could use his hair to hide behind, and sighed. Hermione wasn’t going to let this go. Maybe for the day, but not forever.
“Why do you want to know?” Harry asked, caught between kicking her out of his dorm and giving into her curiosity. Either way, the minute she was gone, he was putting several strong wards on the album so no one else would find it. “Really, Hermione, why?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Irvine pulled the large, leather bound book from the box and wiped at the thick layer of dust, barely making an impact in the gray layer of fuzz covering the black album. “Selphie, darlin’, when was the last time you opened this thing?”
Selphie barely cast a glance at the book before she went back to hanging her small collection of dresses in their closet. Selphie squealed happily, but silently. Their closet, not her closet. Irvine had finally agreed to move into a couple’s dorm with her, a sign of commitment. It wasn’t a ring or even a promise to quit flirting with random girls, but it was progress. Then she remembered his question. “Not in years. It hurt too much. I think it’s from when we were at the orphanage…”
Selphie froze in the act of hanging her favorite yellow jumper dress, then dropped it on the closet floor as she raced to the bed where Irvine was going through her memory box. She shoved her first nunchaku back into the tattered cardboard box and plopped down on the bed next to him. She snatched the album from his hands and scrubbed at the dust on the cover, revealing faded silver writing. Writing she had done with a silver glitter-marker Matron had given her just for the task.
“Oh, I completely forgot,” Selphie cried as she opened the book to a random page. “Squall asked if any of us had any pictures like Seifer did and I forgot.”
Irvine put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, letting her know he was there. “I don’t think he’ll be mad. All of us have trouble rememberin’ things from those days.”
Selphie smiled weakly at him, a sad imitation of her normal carefree grin, before looking at the pictures inside the album again, a fragment of a memory returning as she turned the pages. “Harry and I were the last ones to leave and we were sooo bored, so Matron gave us these and some markers and let us go through her old pictures.” She frowned, trying to make sense of what she was remembering. An old man, a letter, and a tabby cat didn’t add up to much, but the flashes were giving her chills. “I…I think she let us do it more for Harry than me, something about Harry not coming back for a long time.”
“Selphie?”
“I think you better go get Squall, Irvy,” Selphie said quietly, staring at a picture of a twelve year old Squall and an eight year old Harry playing fetch with a giant Estharian Hunter. Hyne, those dogs were huge, practically little ponies. The one in the picture wasn’t full grown and its head looked like it would reach Squall’s shoulder in the picture. “Just Squall. Not Quistis, Zell, Seifer, or Rinoa. We were the only ones there then.”
“You’re starting to worry me, darling’,” Irvine said. “Why just Squall?”
Selphie licked her lips nervously and looked Irvine in the eye. “I think I know where he is, and the others won’t believe me ‘cause they won’t be able to remember. It’s just too weird for them to believe without the memories as proof.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, like she was preparing to have it out with Snape, and said, “Because I think it would be good for you to remember the good, not only the bad. These people are your family and you never talk about them, not even to wonder where they are now. You need to let some of the pain go before you…I don’t know, kill Dumbledore for not letting you go back.”
Harry laughed softly, the sound practically forced out of him. Hermione was the only person who knew of his anger towards the Headmaster and treated it like it was a joke, probably because she couldn’t imagine him actually going off on the old man. Then again, Hermione was also the person who helped him hunt through the library and the bookstores, looking for a way for him to go home. Harry knew she wasn’t giving her enough credit for all her help.
“He’s useful as a symbol, Harry,” Hermione said, accurately guessing at his thoughts. “That’s the only reason I haven’t sent everything I know to Skeeter yet. When everyone finally accepts Voldemort is back, they’ll need someone to rally behind. I’d rather it be Dumbledore, less pressure on you.”
“Thanks, Hermione.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at him and tapped a picture of Zell, Selphie, and Irvine building a sand castle. “Now, we have another hour before Ancient Runes. Tell me about your family.”