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Author: Imogen Story: A Pensieve Affair Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: WIP Reviews: 9 Words: 91,002
Before they had time to register anything much, Matthew and Hope were back in the entrance hall of Hogwarts, the grand staircase sweeping magnificently up to their left and the heavy wooden doors of the Great Hall immediately ahead. Music was playing somewhere in the distance and lots of familiar faces drifted around them in their formal attire. Flowers lined the hall, and Hope could remember the summer evening so vividly it was like they’d never left that moment. It seemed to be mere moments ago that she’d been closeted in her room with Cora for hours getting dressed. Cora had chattered incessantly about Robert as she fussed and preened, but Hope’s thoughts had been elsewhere. A certain seductive memory of Julius Flint had dallied in her subconscious, and she had been wondering what would happen to them after their time at Hogwarts had ended. From four years beyond the memory, Hope almost laughed cynically at the recollection. If she’d known then what she knew now, she wouldn’t have even bothered dreaming. As the door to the Great Hall swung open, music filled the entrance hall and, oblivious to the memories of their classmates around them, Matthew grabbed her by the waist and waltzed her enthusiastically around the room. She laughed, and he grinned back, pausing for a second and twirling her under his arm before dancing with her again. She watched the laughter sparkling in his eyes and couldn’t help smiling at him. Perhaps they should have gone to this ball together back then; friends were always far less fuss and far more fun. “So,” he whispered in her ear, as they revolved through an assortment of memories of Hufflepuff students and back to the front door again. “Where are you?” “Right over there,” she jerked her head in the direction of the stairs and Matthew stopped dead, causing her to trip inelegantly over his feet and if he hadn’t been holding her, she would have pitched headlong across the floor. The younger version of Hope had stopped part way down the marble staircase, and had turned back to watch someone over her shoulder. Her hair had been tamed for once, and it was swept lightly up into a burnished coronet, leaving a few coppery ringlets casually bobbing down her back. She could vividly remember enchanting the pearl pins that Flint had given her for her birthday to provide some desperate structure for her hair, as it had been far too heavy to hold up by anything other than magic. It had been a struggle, but Hope had to admit that it looked damned good. Julius Flint appeared behind her, jogged down a few stairs, and wrapped his arm round his girlfriend’s waist. The older Hope bit her lip. She could remember how that had felt so well: the firm, possessive press of his fingers, heralding promises of later. She saw her face tilted up to his in the memory, lost in some mixture of admiration and desire. A smile tugged at her lips as she watched the very handsome young man stoop to murmur something in her ear. “What a git,” Matthew muttered fervently. “Nice dress, by the way.” Hope glanced at him, slightly startled to realise that it was Matthew’s fingers on her waist, and not those of Flint in her memory. She swallowed. “I always liked it,” she said hoarsely. Suddenly she was acutely aware of how close Matthew was, and her breath quickened. “Suits you,” he said, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort. He was still watching the Hope of the past slowly descending the stairs on Julius’ arm, the midnight blues and indigos of her chiffon dress wafting gracefully behind her. “Makes a change from muddy Quidditch robes, doesn’t it?” she quavered, and inwardly kicked herself. What on earth was wrong with her? “We might be here in jeans, but we should do this properly,” Matthew teased, drawing her arm through his and sliding through the remembered room to be just slightly behind the memory of Hope herself. As they entered the Great Hall, Hope couldn’t help comparing past and present. She’d never fancied herself in love with Julius Flint, but they looked startlingly good together, and they were clearly happy. He was protectively containing her slender hand between his arm and his expensively clad body. Although she couldn’t remember noticing at the time, heads turned to stare in their direction with whispered nods of curiosity. It wasn’t like that now. She didn’t need Julius. She didn’t need any man. “Where are you in all this?” Hope wondered aloud. “Me?” Matthew sounded surprised. “I’m over in the corner by the band with Della. See?” Hope stretched onto tiptoe to see over some of the heads of the people surrounding her, and located Matthew quickly, right beside Cora and Robert. “De-li-lah!” Hope enunciated the word with distaste. “She’s all over you like a cheap set of Knockturn Alley robes. What did you see in her?” Matthew pondered the matter for a moment. “Let’s just say that, unusually for a Ravenclaw, it wasn’t her brain.” Hope chuckled and prodded him in the ribs. “You’re really just an old pervert underneath.” “Who said anything about hiding it?” he sniggered. Flint and the younger Hope drew up to a table filled with the other members of Matthew’s dormitory: Podmore, Auriga and Carrows. Flint pulled a chair out for her and guided her into the space beside him. “I heard that Carrows was a kept man these days. Older witch with a fortune, living in the lap of luxury somewhere in the Fens.” Matthew rolled his eyes. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Carrows always did have a penchant for the finer things in life, but you know his parents lost most of their wealth in the war.” “How the hell did you survive sharing a dormitory with that lot for seven years?” Hope demanded. She’d just noticed Auriga eyeing her younger self up and down and only managed to resist the urge to slap him because she knew that her hand would go right through him. It seemed to defeat the point. Matthew shrugged. “They mostly left me alone. They were all from old wizarding families and knew each other; there was no reason for them to take any notice of me. I was just the token Muggleborn in the room. Persona non grata and all that.” Hope felt indignant fury beginning to bubble inside her. “You’re worth twenty of them any day!” she exclaimed. Matthew flushed, and gave a slight smile. “You didn’t think so back then.” Hope looked directly at him, feeling her insides squirm. “I was an idiot. You’ve always been there for me. I should never, ever have taken you for granted.” “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” His voice had dropped to a mere whisper, but his brown eyes held hers. His hand stroked lightly down her arm, and for a moment she forgot the memory surrounding them. “I’ve got plenty that I regret,” she admitted, “Like not talking to you this year. Matt, I really…” “Shh!” he said, lifting a tentative hand to caress her cheek. “I understand. I don’t blame you.” She stared up into his eyes, not quite daring to believe it. Had he really forgiven her? His brown eyes glistened in the candlelight of the Great Hall, but his hair tumbled forward camouflaging them from her gaze. She brushed his hair back with her fingers, so she could see him properly, and he smiled. His arms circled her waist, drawing her closer, and her eyes never left his. Her heart seemed to be beating erratically in her chest and her breathing might have stopped altogether. She wasn’t sure. His head bent slowly towards hers, the movement barely tangible, yet somehow more than she could bear. Suddenly a whoosh of colour burst into the moment, fragmenting their peace, as the figure of Julius Flint stepped directly through them, followed by Hope herself, on their way to the dance floor. Matthew and Hope sprang apart and, without speaking, turned to watch the two figures dancing somewhere in their past. Hope’s heart was thudding madly, and her palms had gone clammy. She wiped them hastily on her jeans and focused on the scene ahead. She had brought him here to see an argument between herself and Flint; so they’d get that done and go back to finish off the chocolate cake. Simple. She didn’t dare look in Matthew’s direction. The younger Hope was nestled in the crook of Julius Flint’s neck, and the pair of them revolved smoothly and easily around the dance floor. Her body mirrored his exactly, pressed so closely that even a firefly couldn’t have passed between them. Hope saw her own arms curl upwards, in an all too familiar gesture round his neck. Flint’s hands wandered seductively lower. Hope was acutely aware of a sharp intake of breath from Matthew, but she kept her eyes fixed on the scene before her. Flint nuzzled his nose against hers, and the Hope of memory lifted her chin to greet him with a searing kiss. “You and Flint…?” Matthew’s voice sounded slightly strangled with a sudden realisation. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Hope understood what he meant and there was no reason to keep the truth from him. “We were lovers,” she admitted quietly. “The relationship didn’t last much beyond Hogwarts, but he was my first.” “And now? Do you still…?” His voice was shaking, and Hope didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t want to see those raw emotions on his face. She couldn’t look. She wouldn’t. Steadily, she made herself watch the dancing before her. Flint was twirling her younger self around the dance floor with unsurprising competence. Flint had always been like that; good at everything he did. Hope counted the steps as she had done when she was learning to dance, trying to force her brain to work properly again so that she could explain. “I do still care about him; I just don’t love him. I never did. We meet up every now and then for dinner, but it’s nothing more these days. We get on much better that way.” “He bragged about you once in the dormitory,” Matthew said hesitantly. “How he had every intention of finding out what the famous Hope Potter was like in bed.” “Just the once?” Hope joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I must have been bad if he didn’t deconstruct it for you all after he finally managed it.” “I hexed him,” Matthew admitted, with a rueful smile. “You remember that time when he couldn’t fly for a fortnight because of balance problems? He didn’t risk talking about you like that in my earshot again.” Hope laughed out loud. “That was you? Why didn’t you tell me?” “Mostly because you’d have hexed me back,” he replied. “You weren’t too impressed that one of your Chasers was out of action if I recall correctly.” “Or my boyfriend, for that matter,” she chuckled. The music changed into a slower tune and Hope lifted her head, listening intently. She remembered this. Flint’s hands continued to caress his partner’s back, travelling lower still. “Severus, you really must have a word with those students of yours!” The prim Scottish tones of Professor McGonagall came from right beside them. “It looks like they ought to get a room.” The glittering gimlet eyes of Professor Snape raked despairingly over the young couple. “Room, broom cupboard, alcove, class room, office: it really doesn’t make any difference to those two. Even a cold bucket of water doesn’t stop them. Believe me, I’ve tried several dousing charms, not to mention a liberal dose of bromide in Flint’s tea. No effect whatsoever. They’re like rabbits.” Hope felt like she’d been plunged into boiling oil. She’d never realised that the staff had been aware of what was going on between her and Flint. As his words sank home, she dimly wondered if bromide had any long-term effects. Julius wouldn’t be too happy about it when he found out! “Did everyone know you were shagging Flint?” Matthew demanded. His face was flushed, and his eyes bright. “Was there a full page advert in The Daily Prophet that I missed?” “Matt, it wasn’t like that,” Hope cried, feeling more bothered than ever. “We didn’t broadcast it. I talked to Cora about it, but you and Robert wouldn’t have understood. You both made it patently clear that you couldn’t stand the guy. As far as you were concerned it was bad enough that I was going out with him. What was I supposed to say?” “You should have said something, and I would have broken his flaming…” “See! I told you that you would have over reacted!” she interrupted fiercely. She saw Matthew’s mutinous face and sighed. There was no way she was going to win with this one, and strangely she found that she didn’t much want to defeat him. “Listen,” she said, more gently, “Julius was a phase in my life. The unsuitable boyfriend I could do the rebellious thing with. I could break the barriers with him and explore myself as much as anything to find out more about who I was and what I wanted to become. I didn’t like Della any more than you liked Julius, but they’ve both helped to make us into the people we are now. Maybe I didn’t turn out so well, but I think you’re amazing.” Cautiously she wrapped her arms around him and drew him into a hug, relieved to feel him responding. His fingers gently stroked through her hair and she felt the taut muscles inside his body slowly start to relax. “Sorry,” he said at length. “I don’t know what got into me there. You’re entitled to do whatever you want, with who ever you want, wherever and how ever. I know that. I can just be a bloody stupid fool sometimes.” Hope stretched up and brushed a light kiss on his stubbly cheek. His hand lifted instinctively to touch it, and his brows furrowed with confusion. “What was that for?” “For caring,” she said softly. “Now if you’d care to dance me in that direction, you should be able to hear the beginnings of the argument we came to see. If nothing else, it’s going to make you feel a lot better about my relationship with Flint. It wasn’t as lovey-dovey as you seem to think.” Matthew raised an eyebrow at her, but did as he was asked. They waltzed quickly over to where the younger Hope was dancing with her boyfriend, and followed them, listening intently to the conversation between them. “You should have worn the necklace I bought you to go with those hair pins,” Flint said to the young girl resting her head by his shoulder. “That silly silver one just doesn’t look right.” She looked up at him suddenly, hurt evident in her emerald eyes. “I like it,” she said stubbornly. “Matthew and Robert bought it for me last Christmas and I wanted to wear it tonight.” He snorted. “That explains it all. They don’t have a single taste bud between them, and not too many galleons either by the looks of it.” She pulled back from him and frowned. “It’s not all about money, Julius,” she said tersely. He tightened his hold on her and continued to dance. “Don’t go all Gryffindor on me,” he groaned. “You’ll be talking next about friendship and loyalty mattering more than standards. Come on, Hope. Let’s just have a nice night. I’m sorry for mentioning it.” “So you should be,” she snapped, her stray red ringlets bobbing angrily as she glared up at him. “You can’t keep criticising my friends like this.” “Those misfits?” he scoffed. “Why would Hope Potter want to hang around with a Muggleborn, an illegitimate witch and a Gryffindor? I’ve never understood that. With your background, you should be sailing in social circles way beyond those people.” The younger Hope’s jaw dropped open. She stared aghast at her boyfriend. “Has it never occurred to you that I might not want to tread in the same elevated social circles that you do? Perhaps I’m simply not that shallow. I like the sentimental jewellery; screw what it cost. I love my friends; I don’t care about where they came from or what people might think.” “You’ll learn,” Flint said, with an arrogance that took her breath away. She stopped dead, but the music kept playing and the dancers kept whirling around them. “I’ll learn?” she echoed, her eyes glittering with a fury that impressed even her older self. “Flint had better have good reflexes,” Matthew muttered in her ear. Hope grinned up at him and turned her attention back to the figures in the memory. “You will.” Flint said it so smugly that Hope felt her fingers itch even now. “I know who I’d prefer to be with,” she snapped. Her younger self took a step back from him and turned to leave the dance floor to sit with her friends. He caught her hand in a vice like grip, his fingers digging red marks into her smooth white skin. “Let go of me,” she hissed. “You’re with me tonight, and don’t you forget it. Behave yourself when you’re with me in public. Let’s keep the wild cat routine for the bedroom.” A resounding crack filled the air, and Flint looked stunned. Her hand had caught him square across the cheekbone, staining it bright pink. She took off across the dance floor, and before he could stop her, she’d vanished out of the oak doors. “Come on!” Matthew urged, grabbing his Hope’s hand and running after the girl in the memory. Flint was beside them, moving slightly slower than they were. The front door to the castle was swinging shut as they got there, but they darted through, just in time to see a flutter of midnight robes darting around the corner. “I’m heading for the rose garden,” Hope gasped, making a mental note that she really did need to work out a bit more regularly. She’d be in danger of failing her advanced Auror training if she was out of shape for much longer. She hadn’t felt like bothering with anything much lately; she’d been too apathetic since Christmas. Memories and reality seemed to merge together for a moment as all four of them raced down the gravel path, eager for events to unfold. The younger Hope glanced back over her shoulder, and saw that Flint was still in hot pursuit. She darted under an archway, and twisted her way back inside the castle, clattering in her heels up a tight spiral staircase and out from behind a tapestry onto the Charms corridor. “I never knew that existed,” Matthew panted. “You can find your way around this castle better than anyone I know!” Flint was closing in on his quarry. Closer and closer. He seized her round the waist and hauled her into an alcove, pinning her breathlessly against the wall. The younger Hope struggled briefly against him, her chest heaving as her boyfriend frowned down at her. His thunderous expression changed as her head tilted back to him, her eyes smouldering with unspoken thoughts. Flint pressed her more tightly against the wall, capturing her arms above her head with one hand. She shifted her hips against him. Suddenly, he claimed her mouth with his, hungrily, passionately, desperate to devour and possess. A faint moan escaped from her, as she gave herself up for lost. Matthew shuffled awkwardly and cleared his throat, obviously wondering if he should be observing such an intimate moment. The older Hope slid her hand into his and squeezed. “It doesn’t mean anything,” she reassured him. “Give it about two seconds and I’ll be arguing with Flint again. It was like that all the time.” “So, why did you go out with him?” She laughed, acutely aware of the two figures frantically seeking each other out in the alcove. “He’s devilishly attractive,” she admitted, and shrugged her shoulders. “And he was so persistent. He can be totally charming when he wants to be, although I’m guessing you never saw that side of him.” “I’d have been quite disturbed if I had,” Matthew replied, with a faint smile. “I don’t think I’m his type somehow, and he’s most definitely not mine!” The gasps and grunts from the alcove were beginning to make Hope feel somewhat uncomfortable, and it was with some relief that she heard her own breathless voice speak to Flint. “No, Julius! I’m not doing this.” “Don’t tease,” came the hoarse response, and Flint’s dark head bent to assail her neck again. “You know you like it.” “Stop it!” she protested vehemently. “I’m not joking, Julius. You stop this right now.” He fell back, and she slid to her unsteady feet. Their lips were crushed into redness, and there were marks along Hope’s neck and bare shoulders from his attentions. Both of them were breathing erratically, staring fiercely at each other. They circled slowly like tigers, never once breaking eye contact. “My friends are my friends, Julius, like it or not. You don’t run my life. You don’t tell me what to wear, or how to behave, or who to spend my time with.” “If you were making better choices yourself, I wouldn’t have to,” he spat back at her. “You’re my girlfriend and you’ll act accordingly.” “I won’t be your girlfriend for much longer if you keep treating me like this. You don’t own me. You never will. Deal with it.” “As if you have so many better options,” he interjected scornfully. “Who else would be good enough for you? Who else would even be interested? Mudblood Belford with his puppy dog eyes, desperately longing for what he can’t have? I don’t think so.” Matthew expelled a long slow breath. “Hope, I can explain…” She smiled up at him, and shook her head. There was no time for explanations. She needed him to watch this memory. The younger Hope stepped forwards, fury blazing, and jabbed Flint hard in the chest with her index finger. “Wrong!” she exclaimed. “If someone like Matthew was interested in me for even a second, do you really think I’d be hanging around with the likes of you? Why would I date an arrogant pig who’s more interested in going out with my name, when I could be with someone who actually cares about me?” “Because you can’t resist me?” Hope heaved in a sigh of exasperation. “I’m resisting you now.” “Not for much longer,” he said, with a wicked laugh that still sent a tremor down Hope’s spine, even five years later. “You see, Miss Potter, it’s perfectly simple. It’s like flying.” His hands lightly circled her waist, and her eyes drifted shut as he lightly kissed her neck. His voice became a seductively low whisper, hypnotically like a snake. “And we both love the thrill of flying.” “It’s the adrenaline rush,” she murmured in reply, swaying into his arms. “It’s addictive.” “Just like us.” Their lips met one more, the argument seemingly forgotten at least for a while. Hands roved desperately and the frantic kissing deepened with bruising force. Flint lifted her against the alcove wall again, with deliberate intent. Hope chanced a glance at Matthew, only to see a most peculiar expression on his face. She bit her lip. He’d never liked Flint much, so perhaps it was time to go. Not lingering longer, she lifted him gently by the elbow, lifting him through a shimmer of light up, up, back into her parent’s house and far, far away from her teenage follies. He sat in silence, not saying a word. Hope heaved in a deep breath and wondered what to do next. It was a stupid thing to have shown him, and he probably thought she was the worst type of scarlet woman possible. She hated the idea that Matthew could ever think badly of her, but she wasn’t sure what she could do about it. “Did… did you mean it?” he said, so softly she barely heard it. “Mean what?” she was confused. “That I couldn’t resist Flint? I did eventually. I dumped him less than four months after that memory.” “Not that.” His brow was heavily lined with thought. “Did you mean what you said about… about me?” Hope’s stomach plummeted through her shoes in a far less enjoyable way than flying. Suddenly she felt quite sick. Whatever it took, she couldn’t bear to lose his friendship. “Not quite the way it came out,” she tried to reassure him. “I was trying to get Julius off my back and you were a wonderful example of someone who genuinely does want me in his life, regardless of what rubbish comes with me. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for and he seriously undervalued how much you mean to me.” He smiled, but Hope was worried to see that it was a lifeless effort. “That’s good to know,” he said. “Friends matter such a lot.” He retrieved his uneaten chocolate cake and started to pick at it thoughtfully. Hope was drawn to his fork slicing through the moist sponge and then saw him slowly eating it, bite by bite. She glanced at her own cake, but didn’t feel even remotely hungry any more. “Matt?” “Mmm?” “I’m sorry I slept with him.” She said the words, and instantly couldn’t understand why she’d uttered them. She’d actually rather enjoyed some of her experiences with Julius, but it all seemed to belong to another world now. A wrong world. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, catching her eye for what felt like the first time in weeks. He pushed his hair back out of the way and smiled. “You’re not answerable to anyone about that, and I’m not in a position to criticise even if I wanted to.” “I s’pose you did with Della,” she asked tentatively. “Eventually,” he confirmed. “Not quite as blatant as you and Flint seem to have been, but we did, for a while at least.” “I never really got to know her,” Hope said slowly. “I sort of assumed I hated her. What was she like?” Matthew leaned against the chair behind him and pondered the question. “She was fun,” he tried to explain. “In lots of ways, she wasn’t a serious relationship, and yet she was at the same time. I suppose eighteen months is a fair relationship by anyone’s reckoning. We had a few things in common, like she was from a totally Muggle family as well.” “But what was she like?” Hope persisted. “Warm,” he said, and then laughed. “Not just physically! I honestly think she really did love me back then. We’d spend time together chatting, walking, playing chess and that kind of thing. She’s a good person, and deserved a lot better than I could give her.” “What went wrong?” Hope’s curiosity got the better of her. Matthew hesitated. “I could show you if you want,” he offered. He winced slightly and added, “Please don’t tell Cora or anyone. I’ve hurt Della enough and I don’t want anything to get back to her.” Hope touched his knee. “Everything tonight is just between us. I’ll never breathe a word about any of your memories to another living soul.” He nodded, and slowly drew out a long shimmering silver strand of thought, letting it fall from his wand to the pensieve before him. He watched it momentarily, and turned to Hope. “Ready?” “Absolutely.”
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