Forget Me Not
by Reiko Katsura
Series: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. NCCI.
Summary: What is Harry to do when he can't remember being married to Snape for the life of him? And who are those kids calling him "Daddy"? What the hell is going on? HP/SS. SLASH. Non MPREG.
A/N: I know! Another Harry Potter Fan Fic? Well, yes, actually. I've been writing this one for a little while now, and I already have the entire thing planned. This will be broken up into two chapters. The second part is already half written. Nothing original, but still incredibly fun to write.
Please enjoy "Forget Me Not"!
The sun was beaming in the early morning. Streaks of light were pouring through dark blue curtains, and illuminating the room in strips of shine. The sound of chirping flowed from the outside morning, past the glass stained windows and into the room, and Harry couldn't help but bask in placid quiet of early dawn.
Yawning once more, Harry Potter stretched his limbs and smiled lazily. He couldn't remember the last time that he felt so utterly comfortable. He reached across the bed, towards the bedside table, and grabbed at his wand from atop a stack of paperwork and files. Tossing the realization that he had not even started on the pile of work he was assigned to complete to the back of his mind, Harry spelled the curtains to close tighter, in an attempt to block out the sun that was warming his face, and hurting his eyes. As much as he loved the morning and the rising sun, Harry felt no desire to leave the comfort of his bed. Instead, he tossed his wand back on top of the desk, and curled in closer to the center of the bed.
And that's when he felt it.
Frowning, Harry pushed closer into the middle, only to realize that there was something hindering his movements. With his eyes still shut, Harry began to grope at the thing before him. Well, it certainly was warm–– whatever it was.
It wasn't until Harry's hands began to feel something hair like, that Harry froze his hands movements.
Gulping, he moved the tips of his fingers further down the threads of what felt like hair, and swallowed hard when his hands roamed over what felt awfully similar to eyes, and then a nose, and then lips. Harry allowed his hands to rest on what he thought was the nose, and gasped when a trickle of breath washed over his peach-colored skin.
Bracing himself, Harry opened his eyes slowly, and let his mouth fall open when an very familiar and unwanted pair of dark, obsidian eyes stared back at him.
Without thinking, he pushed himself off the bed, regardless that the fall to the floor would be a painful one, and scrambled to the wall like a backwards, upside down crab.
"W-wh-what?!" Harry stammered incoherently, and stared at the pale, seemingly naked man who had pulled himself up from the covers and was staring at him with a confused, bemused expression.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Snape questioned, startled by the mans' behavior.
"What am I doing? What the hell are you doing, Snape?"
Snape looked down at a scowling Harry inquiringly, and rose a brow, as if the man before him was insane, "Did you hit your head when you fell, Harry?"
"What the hell are you doing in my bed, Snape?!" Harry all but roared, his arms shaking in anger and confusion. What the hell was Snape doing in his bed? Why the hell was Snape even in his room?!
"Harry," Harry shuddered at the way his given name rolled off of his most hated teachers' tongue, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Outraged, Harry snarled, "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? What the hell are you doing in my house?!" Harry was screaming by the end of his rant, but his anger soon faded by the obviously bewildered expression on his usually stoic Potions Professor.
"Harry…if this is some game, you had better quit it this instant." The glare that Harry was so accustomed to loyally returned on Snape's face, but Harry couldn't deny the flash of panic that flashed in the older man's irises.
"No, you had better quit this, Snape," Harry corrected, his voice resuming a snarl, "what I want to know is why in Merlins' hell are you naked in my bed?"
Snape looked to be at a complete loss of words. He stared at Harry dumbly for a few moments, his mouth opening on several occasions and then closing quickly after, until he pulled the pale blue blankets off himself and stood up.
"Oh Merlin!" Harry shrieked, and covered his eyes as a very naked Snape descended from the covers. He was seeing far too much white for his liking.
Snape gave Harry another curious expression, then turned around to wrap a black robe around his figure. When he was securely dressed, he cleared his throat and waited for Harry to peak through his fingers to assure that he was covered, like a child would when watching a Horror movie, and turned to him when Harry dropped his hands in obvious relief.
"Harry… I think there's something wrong with you." Snape said bluntly, moving to step closer to the younger man, but stopping short when Harry glared.
"Fine Harry," Snape sighed, covering his face with his hands in aggravation, "Now, could you please stop whatever prank it is that you are trying to pull, because honestly, it's not funny."
When Snape turned to look at Harry, he frowned at his disbelieving expression.
"Me? A joke? Not funny?" The golden was scowling furiously at Snape, "And what the hell are you trying to pull by waking up in my bed! What the hell are you trying to do by slipping in beside me naked…"
As if realization dawned upon Harry, his green eyes opened widely and his mouth fell open unceremoniously, "O-oh Merlin… you wouldn't… you couldn't… Merlin…"
At Harry's assumption, Snape paled a shade and his obsidian orbs widened in horror.
"Harry, you couldn't possibly believe that I would…"
"Don't come near me!" Harry shouted at Snape's forthcoming, "I swear to God, if you come even a step closer to me that I will hex you goddamn balls off!"
And just like that, Harry Potter apparated from where he sat and disappeared, leaving his husband to stare at the spot where he vanished at in astonishment.
Harry couldn't, for the life of him, stop fidgeting as he sat in Ron and Hermione's small kitchen. The warm cup of Coffee was quivering in his hands, and his legs couldn't stop from bouncing in anxiety. Ron and Hermione sat in front of him, clad in sleeping robes and faces stunned.
"Could… could you repeat that again, Mate?" Ron asked, seeming startled.
Sighing, Harry repeated his tale of what had happened.
"I come home from work at the ministry, slip into my bed for a good nights rest, wake up in the morning and see Snape in my bed! Naked in my bed!"
Ron paled, and put a hand over his eyes as if trying to execute any image of Harry's confession. "Please refrain from elaborating, Harry." He groaned, pleadingly.
Hermione elbowed Ron sharply, in which he winced, and said, "Harry… I don't understand, honestly."
Harry stared at Hermione in awe. Could so many years out of school really kill brain cells?
He would have to ask someone about that.
"I don't know how many times I'm going to have to explain it!" Harry snapped, and set his cup down onto the table. "Why, in Merlin's name, aren't you guys shocked about this!" He accused. What was wrong with them? They should have been horrified!
"Why would we be?" Hermione frowned, and cocked her head to the side in confusion. Her eyes were scrutinizing Harry's face, and her expression was calculating. Under her gaze, Harry felt like an unknown specimen ready to be cut open and observed.
"Because Snape was in my bed? The last time I checked, that was all the reason you needed!"
Bewildered would have been an understatement, if one where to categorize Harry as such at the moment. He couldn't fathom why his two best friends weren't running around in a mortified panic, as he was just about ready to do.
"Harry… is something wrong with you?" The words that came from Ron's mouth where slow and deliberate, like he was speaking to a child.
"Is something wrong with me? Oh, nothing. What could possibly be wrong with me besides having Snape naked and in my bed!" Harry all but shouted. He ran his fingers through his unruly hair, which only caused to dishevel it further, but he didn't care. Something was off about all of this. Something was up, and he needed to figure out what it was.
"Harry… you do know who Severus is, don't you?"
Harry gaped at Hermione, and spluttered, "S-S-S-S-Severus? Severus? Since when have you been on a first name basis with Professor Snape?!"
Both Ron and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance, and Hermione returned to Harry and pressed, "Listen, Harry, just answer me. What was the last thing you remember about Severus."
Harry was about to open his mouth to question Hermione once again about the use of his first name, but shut it quickly enough when she sent a bone chilling glare at him that basically screamed, Another word and I will gut you.
Swallowing hard, Harry closed his eyes to think, and then opened them as he gave his answer, "Seventh year at Hogwarts. Graduation."
Again, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, only this time with stunned expressions, and then she continued to press, "And what happened to you after that?"
Harry scowled, and wondered where Hermione was going with this, but answered her questions nonetheless, "A year after graduation I applied for a job at the Ministry. I studied to be an auror for a year, but quit training when I realized that I had enough of fighting dark wizards and criminals. I then tried my hand at Quidditch, but didn't even make it to the final tryouts when I realized that I couldn't see myself playing for a living. Ron was disappointed at that." Harry sent Ron a sheepish grin, but it faded when he realized that neither Ron or Hermione were smiling. They were far from it, in fact.
"Go on." The witch ushered.
Frowning, Harry continued, "I went back to the Ministry, and applied for a job at the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items. That was the time when you and Ron had Rose. It was there that I met Helda Harmstroth. I dated her for about a month, but it didn't work out. I haven't dated since, for some reason. I've been working as the head of the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items for seven years since then, and I'm madly in love with my job."
Harry finished his story, and warily took in his two best friends shocked expressions.
"I-is that all you remember, Harry?" Ron stammered, looking extremely shaken.
Harry nodded his head. What the bloody hell was going on?
"So you don't remember anything else? Nothing important? Nothing really important?"
Resuming a frown, Harry snapped, "Important like what?"
"Harry, look at your left hand." Hermione advised, her expression grave.
With an uplifted brow, Harry glanced down at his hands which were laid out flat upon the table face, and choked on his intake of breath as a strip of silver and gold caught his attention. His mouth fell open, and green eyes opened wide as they roamed over his left hand that bore a very delicate looking gold ring, with silver thread entwining it and small, diamond chips embedded.
If Harry didn't know any better, he would have thought it was a––
"It's your wedding ring, Harry."
Harry looked up at Hermione in shock, and shook his head hard to clear his mind.
"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. What would I be doing with a wedding ring?" He laughed at that, but it was a tight, uncertain and shaky laugh.
He gulped again, and looked down at the ring once more. Feeling a rush of determination, with shaky fingers, Harry tried to pull the band from his skinny ring finger, but the bloody piece of metal wouldn't even budge at Harry's hard tugging.
"Why isn't this piece of junk coming off?!" He demanded, and pulled out his wand. Harry muttered a removal charm under his breath, and scowled when nothing happened. With a flick of his wand and another murmured incantation, a warm, clear liquid fell onto his finger, and Harry tried to ease the ring off. It didn't work.
"Wedding rings don't come off, Harry. Once you said your vowels and exchanged rings, the ring came onto you and made itself apart of your flesh."
"I can't be married, Hermione! I think I would remember if I had!"
"No, Harry, I don't think you do. Not by that summary of your life you just gave us. I don't know what happened, Harry, but I think you lost a part of your memory."
Harry gaped at the bushy haired witch. That couldn't be possible! How could he have lost his––
Harry closed his eyes as he remembered the Dark Artifact that had been sent to his department. He recalled he and his two partners–– a witch named Ivory Whitlock and a wizard named Harris Hasburry–– had opened the box that contained the dark artifact, and that Ivory had dropped the item by accident, and that a bright yellow light erupted from the silver box. He recalled jumping in front of Ivory who hadn't had time to pull up her shields, and how the light had momentarily engulfed him.
But he had been examined and tested afterwards, and the healers couldn't find a shred of dark magic, let alone anything else, afterwards, and everyone just shrugged the entire thing off. The artifact was put back into its box, and stored away for future examination.
"By the look on your face, I'm guessing that you became aware of what might have happened to you." Hermione guessed.
Harry nodded grimly, and explained to Hermione and Ron what had happened at the lab.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione groaned, and shook her head, "You shouldn't have done that. With Voldemort dead, I would have figured you gave up your heroic acts long ago."
Flushing in embarrassment, Harry glanced down at his left hand once again and sighed. Did the artifact cause him to lose his memory? But if it had, why had he only forgotten that he was married? He wasn't oblivious to the knowledge that there were dark items that could indeed remove and alter a persons memory. But could an artifact even be capable of selecting a specific memory?
He would have to look into that.
With another sigh, Harry looked up at his two friends with a defeated expression and groaned, "So who's the lucky girl?"
"What?" Ron asked, frowning.
"The lucky girl? The one I married?" He elaborated, extremely eager to find out who he had married. He didn't show it on his face, of course, but he was an inch away from slamming his hands on the table in anxiety when Ron hesitated to answer.
"Er… not a girl?" His statement sounded so much like a question, that Harry was wondering if Ron was actually asking him instead. That worry died, however, when his best mate's words finally sunk in.
If it was possible, Harry sunk even further into his chair. He buried his face into his hands and let out a groan of anguish. He was married to a bloke?! Was that even possible?!
"It's not so bad, Harry." Hermione offered, trying to comfort her friend at least a little, as he was falling further and further into the pit of self pity and doom, "Same sex males aren't that rare in the Wizarding World."
When Harry gave her a skeptical glare, Hermione smiled sheepishly and amended "Okay, well, it's not terribly popular, either, but it is known to happen. There are a lot of Witches and Wizards who have same sex lovers, but not many are brave enough to actually get married since it's pretty much frowned upon by pure blood and muggle born members of society. I think there are about five same sex married couples in Wizarding Britain, not including yourself and your partner. Of course, you had an easier time of it than most. After all, after you saved the Wizarding World from the wrath of Voldemort and all, no one would even dare say anything too horrible about you. There was some talk during the beginning stages of your marriage, but it died down soon enough. The world owes you too much to give you trouble about who you decide to marry."
Hermione looked positively smug at the end of that, and her eyes held a self satisfied smirk. "The one's who did try to start trouble about it, shut up soon enough."
The glint in her brown eyes made Harry wonder if Hermione had been the one who helped those who protested against him to shut up. He wouldn't put it past her.
Harry took a moment of silence to try and get used to the idea that he was gay, and married to a man, at that. No matter how much he tried to consider himself with another bloke, he just couldn't imagine it without wincing. How was this even possible? He had only ever dated or kissed girls! Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley, Helda Harmstroth…
See? No guys.
Except the one you're married to, A sardonic voice in his head pointed out.
Harry groaned again. He couldn't even imagine being happy with another man. Or doing things with someone of his own sex. How was that even possible!
Apparently he had been talking out loud, because Hermione answered him.
"You always said that it didn't matter to you if your lover was a man, woman or even goblin. That it was because it was him, and because he was special, and that nothing else mattered."
As romantic as that may have sounded, Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at his unremembered self.
"So who was it then?" Harry forced the words to come out, and immediately regretted it when both Hermione and Ron looked away from him.
Oh bloody hell! What could be worse than finding out I'm married to a man?!
"I really don't think anything else you tell me at this point would surprise me more than finding out I'm married, and to another bloke, at that." He pointed out, and waited for his friends to answer him. After some time, Ron's mouth moved, but what he said was so low that Harry didn't even have a hope of hearing him.
"What was that?"
"Honestly, Harry! Could you be any more blind?" Hermione snapped, though she looked less irritated than she was exasperated, "Who else would you find sleeping naked in your bed when you woke up?"
Harry stared at her, dumbstruck, and jumped from his chair in alarm as a recollection of waking up beside his former, and very much hated, Potions Professor, came flooding into his head.
"You must be joking! I'm married to Snape?!" He shrieked, the little color on his face fading entirely.
Hermione nodded and rose a brow, "Took you long enough to connect the dots. Though, I should be fair and say that you've heard a lot of overwhelming things in the past half hour."
"You cant be serious." Harry whispered.
Ron felt immediate pity towards his friend. His voice was desperate, and pleaded with them to tell him different. Well, Ron had warned him about marrying the greasy git in the first place. If he had listened to him, he wouldn't be a second away from having a heart attack at the present.
Deciding it was best if his best male friend confirmed it, Ron nodded and said, in a tone that was more than apologetic, "Sorry, mate, but it's true. You've been married to the greasy git for six years."
Hermione once again elbowed her stupid husband in the side, and hissed something that sounded an awful lot like "What did I tell you about calling Harry's husband that, Ronald?", but Harry was too far into his own shock to hear anything else after that.
He was married to Snape. To his old, hated Potions Professor. To the man who made his life hell at Hogwarts. To the man who hated him just because he hated his father.
He was married to Professor Snape.
"Oh, don't look like it's the end of the world, Harry. It might seem like a shock to you now, but you'll get over it soon. You have been together for seven years now."
Swallowing deeply, and clutching onto the end of the table for dear life, Harry whispered, "But I thought you said I was with him for six years."
"You've been married for six years. You guys dated for a year before that. Actually, you guys were at if for five months before you started dating that Hellish Helda Harmstroth. You never got into specifics about why you broke up in the first place, but I know that you did. It didn't work out with Helda, and a few weeks later, you and Severus went back together. Got married a couple of months afterwards."
For all Harry knew, Hermione was talking about a completely different person. And Merlin, Harry wished she were.
The sound of a door opening pulled Harry from his thoughts, and he turned around to see three small figures coming out into the kitchen. The first girl, Harry noticed. Red hair that flowed to her shoulders, soft freckled skin and sleepy, drooping brown eyes, indicated that she was indeed Ron and Hermione's seven year old daughter Rose.
The two other kids, however, held no such indication. Twin brunettes looked up at Harry, and the former Boy-who-lived nearly fell to the floor in shock as a chorus of "Daddy!" erupted in the kitchen. It took everything he had not to fall over as the kids slammed into him and hugged his waist tightly.
Fighting the urge to step away, Harry looked over at Hermione with panic in his eyes, and voiced out, "What?"
Hermione shook her head, and simply said, "I should have known that you wouldn't remember being a father, either."
And the next words the witch said was a spell to close Harry's gaping mouth.
Severus Snape had gone into a near panic when his husband disappeared from their house, in his pajamas, at five o'clock in the morning. It wasn't normal for him to fall into shock as he did, and he chastised himself for it when he returned to normalcy afterwards. Or as normal as he could have been after the stunt his spouse just played.
For minutes, reasoning and explanations filled his mind, and Snape had evaluated each one to fish out and decide on the most plausible one to Harry's behavior. In the end, the assumption that Harry had hit his head at work and gotten amnesia was the most believable one. And then he realized what Harry having amnesia meant, and he once again fell into anxiety and urgency.
He tried his best to make rational, well thought out moves when he had calmed down even a little. He spend nearly an hour trying to decide his next move, and wondering where Harry might have gone if he had indeed lost his memories.
Snape had never felt so stupid when he though about the Weasley's.
It took every ounce of restraint he had not to slap his hand across his head, or scream in frustration. He quickly opened up the floo network in his study, and tried connecting it to the Weasley's house. It didn't connect.
Growling in frustration, he ran to his room and quickly pulled on a pair of clean robes. Before he apparated out of the house, he paused briefly to consider storming into the Weasley's house. For all he knew, the pair could be occupied in certain night time activities–– ones that he had no desire to see or interrupt. It was early morning, yes, but Snape was no stranger to playing at this time, or any time, for that matter, of day.
And then he remembered that his kids–– Amethyst and Julius––had slept over the Weasley's last night. And if they so happened to be doing anything inappropriate with his children in the house, well then, Snape would finally have the reason to hex the male Weasley to oblivion.
And there was also the high chance that Harry was indeed there.
Feeling more assured, Snape apparated from his house to right outside the weak wards of the Weasley home, that would alert him of his presence. He didn't even bother knocking. A few minutes later the large, white door opened, and Hermione stepped out to greet him.
"Severus. Good Morning." She greeted.
After a good two years of his and Harry's marriage, Snape had finally conceded to calling his former student by her first name, because she was Harry's best friend, and because she was the godmother of his children, and because he was expecting to see a lot of her in the future, and because, if he was honest with himself, he didn't mind the clever witches' presence too much, and was reluctant to admit that the woman made had some rather interesting comments and theories on Potions at times.
"Hermione." he greeted, trying to force down the anxiety that was just waiting to bubble out.
The witch rose a brow at Snape's failure to remain patient, and said, "Yes, Harry is here."
And that was all the welcome Snape needed. He brushed past her, and nearly ran to the back of the house when Hermione yelled out from behind him, "Kitchen!".
With a pounding heart, Snape pulled open the door to the kitchen, and stopped in his tracks at the sight of his husband, two kids, and Rose and Ron sitting at the table, all holding a cup of what Snape assumed to be coffee or tea for the adults, and hot chocolate for the kids.
At his entrance, Harry looked up, and his eyes widened at the sight of Snape.
Snape breathed a sigh of relief that Harry was here, and stepped further into the kitchen when Hermione softly urged him further so she, too, could come in.
Two pairs of hazel eyes looked up, and brightened immediately.
On instinct, Snape bent down to his knees as the young boy and girl flew from the table and into his arms, and he wrapped his longer limbs around the two of them tightly.
Snape wasn't a man that approved of showing emotions in front of others, but when it came to his children, he found that he couldn't help it. No matter who it was, or where it was, he always found himself being swept by their charm, and couldn't, for the life of him, hide his affection or adoration for them.
"Amethyst, Julius," he whispered as he held them, and closed his eyes as the warmth of his twins in his arms flooded through his body like lukewarm fire, "Good morning."
"Morning, Papa!" They chorused.
Smiling softly, Snape released his grip on them, and watched with a smile as they scurried back to the table and into their seats.
"G'morning, uncle Sevy," little Rose beamed from her chair.
Snape walked over to her and ruffled her reddish-brown curls with his hands. Rose was not his child, but he didn't deny that he cared deeply for the girl. She was just as intelligent and witty as her mother, and it was probably because of that that Snape didn't seem to mind her at all.
After a nod to Ron, who returned it, he pushed away all other thoughts and would be distractions, and set out to do what he had come to do. His eyes turned on Harry, and his brows lifted at the shock on Harry's face.
Feeling amused, anxious and nervous all at once, Snape cleared his throat to remove whatever it was that was stuck there–– to no avail–– and said, "I think we should talk in private, Harry."
Snape wasn't unaware of the way his lovers Adams apple rose and dropped as he gulped, or even at the loss of a shade of color his face underwent. He could almost hear the mans heart beating rapidly in his chest. Or perhaps that was his own heart?
He opted for both.
Harry nodded, and stood from his chair solemnly, as if he were marching off to his death. Well, by the look of it, at least he appeared to be calmer than he was an hour and a half ago. At the moment, Snape favored the man's gloom rather than his previous anger and aggravation.
"You can use the library." Hermione offered.
Snape nodded his appreciation, and left the kitchen, with Harry following behind him steadily. They walked up a flight of stairs, and into an extremely large room that looked very much like the library at Hogwarts. There were shelves and shelves of books that crossed and stretched, and some that even intertwined. This wasn't the first time that Snape had been in Hermione's library. Admittedly, he was very fond of this part of the house. Not only because the witch had a rather impressive collection on a variety of books of different genres, topics, types and subjects, but because he also knew that Ron Weasley had never once stepped foot into it.
Both men filed further into the library, and took a seat at a rather large desk. Their chairs were facing each other, but was nearly five feet apart; separated by the table itself.
"Harry––" Snape started, but was immediately cut off by the younger man.
"We're married." It was a statement rather an a question, but Snape nodded, nevertheless.
"And the two children down there–– Amethyst and Julius–– are ours?"
Snape nodded again.
Harry let out a deep, almost painful breath, and moved his eyes up to look at Snape.
"I don't remember," he admitted, licking his lips, "I think it had something to do with an accident that happened in our department, and apparently, it jigged some parts of my memory. All I know so far, or don't remember anyways, is that you and I are married, and that we have two adopted children."
Snape nodded again, and felt himself gulp at the intensity of Harry's bright, emerald eyes. That was one of the things Snape loved most about Harry. His eyes were always the most open, brilliant thing about him. He could drown in them, melt in them, become aroused by them, fear them, be held by them, be loved by them–– they were captivating.
"I really can't believe we're married," Harry's laugh was dry and held no amusement, "I almost died of a heart attack when Ron and Hermione told me, actually."
Snape felt a tug at his heart, and held back a wince.
"To think that I married the person I hated most in Hogwarts!"
Now, that one really hurt. As much as he tried, Snape couldn't cover the pain that flickered on his face.
It was one thing to joke about the past with Harry, but another thing for Harry to bring it up in a voice that was filled with mock and resentment. Snape had worked hard to get Harry, and it was a painful revelation–– knowing that he was back to where it all started.
Harry must have noticed the pain that flashed as his expression, because he sighed again, and apologized. "I'm sorry, Snape. I just can't get used to the idea."
Snape nodded, both knowingly and bitterly. Knowingly, because he knew that if their positions had been reversed, he would have reacted in the same way. Bitterly, because it hurt either way.
"D-do…" Snape swallowed again, and tried to get the full of his voice back, "Do you know how long this…memory loss of yours will last?"
Harry shook his head, "No, I don't. I'll head out to the department today, and look further into the artifact I think did this."
A moment of silence, and then, "Do you think it could be permanent?"
"I don't know." Harry admitted honestly. He wished, though, with all his heart, that it wasn't. He'd rather have his memories return to him and revert to his days of happiness and bliss, then not have them return, and live life with two children and a husband that he knew absolutely nothing about.
More silence ensued, before Harry finally built the courage to ask Snape the one question that he'd been thinking since he found out that they were married.
"How did you and I… g-get together?" Harry asked lowly, and flushed when Snape looked at him with a raised brow.
It was Snape's turn to sigh. "It was at Albus's 120th birthday. I should have figured that you didn't remember that day, or at least all of it, since that was the start of our current relationship. You and I were both invited, naturally, though there was probably a lot more force on my part. The Weasley twins, idiots as they are, decided to spike the punch with a liquid very similar to Veritaserum, though instead of saying the absolute truth, the consumer would voice out whatever it is they were thinking."
Snape closed his eyes in disgust, as if he were replaying some of the things that had been said at the party, but continued, "It was a real disaster. Nearly everyone there had been drinking the punch, and all of a sudden, we were all voicing our thoughts. Many people tried to run, but the twins also thought it was funny to block all the escape routes there. We were, quite literally, stuck like flies in a spiders web.
"You and I just so happened to bump into each other in an empty room in Albus's manor." Snape couldn't stop the smirk that pulled on his lips at the memory, "You were thinking about how much of a greasy git you thought I was, and I was thinking about how much of a spoiled, pathetic, unintelligent brat you were."
Snape's smirk broadened to an all out grin at Harry's scowl.
"And then you though that my hair wasn't that greasy, and so I returned that with the thought that perhaps you weren't as spoiled as I liked to believe. Our thoughts continued to run in that direction, until we were––albeit reluctantly–– thinking that the other wasn't so bad. I found myself smiling at that, and you, in turn, thought that you liked my smile. I liked your eyes, and you liked my hands."
Harry was positively stunned at their advancement. Had that actually happened?
"I thought you were charming, you thought I could be sexy, at times."
The smirk returned at Harry's immediate flush.
"You thought I had nice lips, I thought you did, too. You though you'd like to feel those lips, and I thought you couldn't have been more right. After a rather long kissing session, the effects of the potion finally began to fade, and you asked me if I'd like to have dinner. I agreed, of course. We went out a few times after that, for dinner or lunch, or just a make out scene in a secluded place."
Both of them were blushing by then.
"In the next month, I asked you out. You agreed. We've been together ever since."
Harry… was stumped. That was impossible. It had to be lie. Had to! How could things have actually gone that way, and especially between two people who had a past like theirs? Snape must have been making it up.
"I can tell that you don't believe me, but I'm telling you the truth, Harry." Snape was looking at Harry with such earnest in his eyes that Harry was having trouble sticking to his prior convincement.
"I'm not lying. Truthfully, I don't understand how that happened, either. Perhaps it happened because of the openness that we were both experiencing, of having our thoughts laid out. Perhaps it was because that we were both consumed a bit of alcohol. Perhaps we never really hated each other as much as we though we did when you were my student. I don't know why it happened, Harry. All I know is that it did. At that time, even the thoughts that you were twenty whole years younger than me, or that you were my student, didn't matter. All that mattered was our honesty. All that mattered was that we both wanted to find out more about each other. All that mattered was that in the end, it just didn't matter, because we were both together."
Obsidian eyes met emerald orbs, and Harry couldn't help but notice the difference in Snape. For starters, Harry had to admit that even his appearance had changed. Snape looked young. More so than he did in Hogwarts. His eyes were warmer than he had ever remembered them, and he wore more expressions than Harry thought he was capable of. His hair, honestly, didn't look as greasy as it had in Hogwarts, either. It was pulled back into a tail, with only two strips of clean black hair spilling down the side of his face.
"You've changed." Harry blurted out.
Snape simply smiled, which was more proof of just how much the man had changed. "Of course I have. Happiness does that to a person."
Nodding, Harry continued, "You said that we were together ever since, but that isn't exactly true. What about Helda Harmstroth?"
Harry didn't miss the cold fury that passed in Snape's eyes, either.
"Ah. Her." He sneered, looking very much like the Snape that Harry remembered from Hogwarts. "And here I've been trying so desperately hard to forget her."
Harry bit his lip in uncertainty, but chose to press. "What happened? I remember going out with her for a time when I first joined the department, and I knew we broke up, but I couldn't remember why. Hermione told me that you and I broke up shortly before that, and then got together afterwards. But I want to know why we broke up."
Snape stared at Harry, and only sighed when he saw the fierce determination in his eyes.
"You wanted marriage and children, I did not. You threatened to go and find someone who would give you what you wanted, I didn't listen, and you left. A week later I found out that you were dating that little tramp," Snape growled in vehemence, "to spite me. You went out with her for a month before she decided to make things more physical. You slept with her, and she broke up with you the night after because–– how did she phrase it–– ah, you were a 'terrible lay'."
Harry was blushing in mortification by then. A bad lay? How embarrassing could that have been?
"I admit that I was actually happy about that," Snape admitted, causing Harry to glare, "but I hated that she hurt you by spreading those rumors. It was obvious that you would be bad for a woman, since you've only ever done it with a man."
Again, both adults blushed. Snape couldn't fathom why exactly he was going around like a virgin school girl and blushing every time he said something that was led towards the direction or topic of sex. It was probably because he was talking to a Harry who did not remember him, or remembered the intimacy between them, that caused him to be so embarrassed.
"Two weeks after that, I owled you so that we could talk. You apologized for going out with someone else, and admitted to having slept with her. Of course, you also mentioned that it was so bad because it wasn't me––" Snape smirked, "–– and we talked about both our situation. You wanted marriage and children, and I was scared of complete commitment and of being a father, which led to my past of having a horrible one. I promised to be more open minded about it, and we got back together. Four months later, I asked you to marry me when I realized that I couldn't live my life without you. We had a small wedding in France, just the two of us, by your request."
Now that shocked Harry. It was he who requested a secret wedding? He pushed the question of whether or not to ask Snape why he chose that to that back of his mind.
"A year later, we went to happened to come across a Wizarding Orphanage in Britain, and that's where we met Julius and Amethyst. You begged to just step inside to see, and the first children you happened to take a glimpse of were the twins. According the orphanage, their Wizard father left their muggle mother when the twins were born, and the mother died in a car wreck. They were two when we adopted them. Seven years old now. Old names used to be Wizenbold, but we changed it soon afterwards. Now, they are Julius James Snape-Potter and Amethyst Lily Snape-Potter."
Snape knew when his lover was about to cry. His eyes would grow tight, and his jaw would clench. The emerald green would change into a duller teal, and he had a habit of biting his lower lips when he tried to fight it. Seeing Harry now trying to desperately hold back the tears, Snape wanted to envelop his husband in his arms. More than anything, he hated seeing Harry sad. And he knew that Harry was sad, because he could not even remember his own children, or that his kids had been given his own dead parents names.
"They're beautiful." Harry whispered, fiddling with his fingers–– another habit that alerted Snape when Harry was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.
Harry waited a while before he spoke again, "Where we a happy family?"
Snape smiled fiercely, "We are a happy family."
And that was the last of Harry's restraint. Twin tears fell from his eyes, and Snape reacted without even thinking.
Snape moved himself over the table, and reached an arm out towards Harry's face. He cupped Harry's cheeks with his hands, and brushed away the tears with his thumbs.
Harry, on the other hand, had no clue why he leaned into Snape's comforting touch as he did. But he did, and Merlin, where his hands like heaven upon his face. His eyes fluttered closed as his previously tensed muscled relaxed, and he let out a sigh.
Was this what it was like? Having a husband? Or anyone who loved you, for that matter? At the moment, Harry didn't care that this was Snape who was touching him. He didn't care that it was a man who he couldn't remember spending his life with for the past seven years. All he knew was that he felt warm, and he didn't want it to end.
They stayed like that for a while, before a knock at the door pulled both men out of their trance.
Harry blushed, and pulled himself away from Snape's hands. Snape, on the other hand, was already thinking of a million hexes and curses a second, to send to the person who had interrupted their bonding moment.
The door creaked open, and a very uncomfortable looking Weasley popped his head from out of the doorway.
"Sorry to interrupt," Ron apologized, "but 'Mione says that it's about time for Harry to go to the Ministry, and that she's already made breakfast."
Silence ensued between the couple long after the door was shut, and Ron was gone. When nearly five minutes had passed, Harry shot up from his chair, and left the library, without sparing so much as a single glance at Snape.
Snape, after cursing Ron with every insult he knew in the English language, followed suit a minute behind Harry. He let out a long, swallow of air before he began to head down to the Kitchen, and before he could remind himself that he just so happened to be fluent in Latin, French and in German.
Harry flashed Gregory Thomms a weak smile as he headed up the stairs to his department in the Ministry. Once there, he dropped his outer cloak onto a chair near the door, and grumpily sat himself onto it.
Breakfast with Ron and Hermione proved to be a rather interesting one. For starters, he couldn't bring himself to look away from his kids. Amethyst and Julius were, though he had only technically known them for less than a day, just precious. Whenever they smiled, he found himself smiling. When Julius had flung egg in his sister's hair, he had to literally hold himself back from scolding him. Though he couldn't remember them, in which saddened Harry whole heartedly, he could actually feel his parental being just begging to break free. Maybe his body remembered them, though his mind could not.
He decided the same for Snape.
In truth, he was horrified that he allowed himself to lean into Snape's touch. Snape's touch. So they were married? It wasn't as if Harry could remember it. And it was because of that that he couldn't understand just why he did what he had done. He, reluctantly, understood why on Snape's part. To his old Potions Professor, Harry was still his husband of many years. To him, it was probably a normal thing to comfort and care for his spouse. But Harry should have known better than to allow the man to comfort him in his current state. His old self might have loved Snape, but his current one did not, and therefore, there was no reason why Harry had done what he had. He didn't love Snape. It was wrong.
Still, that didn't stop Harry from wanting to not go to work, and from desiring to spend the days with his twins. He had known for hours now, but he still couldn't get used to the idea that he was a father. And he wanted to very much do so.
But that was also his motivation for going to work. He needed to find more information on the artifact that had done this to him, and a way to counter it as well. He wanted nothing more than to go back to how things had been, if Hermione and Snape had been right about just how happy Harry was. He wanted that happiness. He was sick of the discomfort.
As the door to the office opened, Harry was pulled from his thoughts. He looked behind him and bowed his head to his rather reserved and quiet partner, Harris Hasburry.
"Good morning, Harris." Harry greeted the older male as he tore off his cloak just as Harry had done.
"Morning, Harry. Is Ivory not in, yet?" He murmured, and folded his cloak neatly, setting it beside Harry's sloppily draped one.
"Is she ever?" Harry teased with a grin. Hasburry returned it.
It was painfully obvious that the man in his early forties was head over heels for their twenty-one year old partner. But because Hasburry was raised by his muggle mother in a muggle society, since his Wizard father had died during Voldemort's time, he was far too stuck on their twenty year age difference, despite the fact that Harry had told the man countless times of Wizarding society and how a twenty year difference was hardly anything to be unsettled about.
Hasburry shrugged it off, of course, and denied his feelings for the young, ebullient woman as well. Harry couldn't help but shake his head at his stubbornness.
Shortly after Hasburry arrived, came Ivory with her usual long, golden hair and bright blue eyes.
"Morning, sunshine's!" Ivory beamed, far too energetic for that time in the morning.
"What did I tell you about your coffee intake limit?" Harry demanded playfully.
"Yes, father." Ivory smirked, and tossed her cloak right on top of Hasburry's.
They were about to enter the lab, to see what new Dark artifacts had been delivered to them this morning, when Harry pulled them back.
"Now, I need to talk to you two."
He briefly explained the happenings of this morning to his two partners, who stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, and sighed in exhaustion once his story had ended.
"Merlin, Harry…" Ivory breathed, staring at the man like he had just confessed to dying of Dragon's pox.
"Are you sure that's what happened?" Hasburry asked.
Harry nodded. "I'm pretty sure that's what happened. I was fine before the incident took place. That's the only reasonable explanation, actually."
Hasburry nodded, and continued, "And are you sure that's the only effects?"
Shrugging, Harry shook his head, "I haven't a clue, really. I just woke up with pieces of my memory missing. My friend, Hermione Granger, had me tell her of my life since after Hogwarts, and I was able to tell her of almost everything except for me being married and having kids."
Hasburry looked thoughtful, and opened his mouth to speak, however, was cut off by a snickering Ivory, "That must have been quite the shocker! If I woke up one day with another woman in my bed, only to find out that we were married and had kids, I would throw a fit."
Harry glared at her, then admitted, "I did, actually. Nearly hexed off Snape's balls when I woke up."
Ivory's snickers escalated to an all out laugh, and tears sprang from her eyes in mirth.
"Merlin, what I wouldn't give to see that. Do you think you could put that memory in a Pensieve for me?"
Harry continued to glare at her before he turned his attention back to Hasburry.
"We'd best start examining that artifact immediately, Harry. You might have only lost a couple of memories then, but who's to say you wont continue to lose more as time goes on?"
Panic began to overwhelm Harry, and he felt the color drain from his face.
"Right." He gulped, and shot up from his seat an into the lab.
As soon as Ivory and Hasburry went inside, all three of the workers of the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items slipped on their white lab robes, pulled out their wands, and brought out the item that they would possibly be spending the remainder of the day, if not weeks, decoding, analyzing and examining.
Fifteen hours later, Harry's tired face broke out into a smile and he crowed, "I've found it!"
Ivory and Hasburry immediately dropped the books they were reading, and ran over to where Harry sat at the desk, with piles of books, parchments and scrolls scattered around him.
"How?" Hasburry asked, and took a seat next to Harry.
"In the Iliand Montgomery's notes of 1647," Harry explained, and pointed to three very large and ancient looking scrolls that were held open on the table by a charm, "her research on discreet punishment through memory. I used the runes and symbols of the artifact–– the ones that were written in Latin–– and used a bridging scheme to connect the lines between the Greek mind study and mythology, linked it to the devices created by the same theory in Persia, Egypt, and Spain, and followed it to Iliand Montgomery, born in Britain in 1573; a witch who was well known for her memory charms."
Hasburry waited impatiently for Harry to continue, and he and Ivory followed the mans theories, conclusions and ideas intently.
"The artifact is called the Mnemosyne, like the Goddess of Memory. It was a device used to remove the most prominent, happy memories of the person it was used on. In my case, it was my memories of my husband and children. In all honesty, I don't know how such a thing came to us. There aren't many made of them throughout history. According the scrolls, Montgomery was the only witch able to perfect a Mnemosyne that worked in all accords, and she only created five before she died of Dragons Pox. It's amazingly difficult to make, because it fishes out the most favorable memories, rather than the memories in general of a specific time, if not the entire."
Ivory looked thoughtful, then asked, "Then how was it that it got to you, Harry? Neither of us touched the thing directly."
Harry looked at her and raised a brow, "Remember when you dropped it?"
Ivory flushed, but nodded.
"Though the scrolls aren't entirely clear on how the Mnemosyne works, I'll bet anything that it was the light that triggered my memory loss. It didn't hit me directly because I still had certain shields up, but I can't deny that it didn't hit me at all."
"But since you did actually have some protection, do you think that it had a different impact on you?"
Harry shrugged. "I can't say. The Mnemosyne is supposed to have a permanent effect. Since I had some protection from it, I can only assume that my case wont be the same, at least not in it's time period. I can only hope, of course. We should have the people at the Department of Dark Artifacts and Items Examination and Registration look closer into it. They should be able to find out more about it."
All three nodded in agreement.
A/N: And so is the end of the first part of "Forget Me Not". The next, and final, part, should be finshed and revised in a few days.
And thanks for reading!
HAPPY CHRISTMAS, btw!