Y/N and Oliver were best friends. They had known each other their whole lives. Not to mention they were neighbors. But going to Hogwarts changed everything. He is Gryffindor. She is Slytherin. Rival Quidditch Keepers. The friendship is gone...
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Y/N
"Why can't you just remove it or obliviate me," I plead, following Professor Snape as he walks behind his desk.
He locks eyes with me. "Because then you wouldn't be dealing with it." He sits down in his chair, still watching me intently. "As painful as it is, forgetting it won't make it better."
My frustration has been boiling over the last few sessions I've had with him. I'm sure he can tell because I've been begging him to take the memories away. If I don't remember it, then how could it possibly still plague me? I rest my hands on his table and lean forward. "You don't know that."
"I know more than you think, Miss Y/L/N." His eyes narrow at me. I don't pretend to know what he means by what he just said, but it doesn't calm my anger.
The last two weeks I've dodged Oliver like I'm blocking a spell with a homing charm on it. He's keeping to his word that he isn't going to leave me alone. But I wish he would. It's only making it harder on him. The fact that he's spending all this time and energy to stay close to someone as messed up as me is alarming. If I could just forget what happened, then maybe I could get back to who I was. The problem, though, is that now others know. Oliver, Gemma, the twins, and Terrance are all aware of the hell I went through. Maybe not the details, but it doesn't stop them from looking at me with sadness and pity. Gemma can't even talk to me without getting choked up anymore.
Flint has been keeping his distance, but it doesn't mean he isn't still watching me from afar. I think in that twisted head of his; he is enjoying this. The suffering I am going through now that others know gives him satisfaction in some sick way.
"Fine," I huff, lifting my hands off the table. "So what am I supposed to do, then? Nothing is helping. I still have the nightmares."
"Are you all out of the draughts and potions I gave you?" He asks.
I nod. He has been giving me a steady supply of drought of peace to keep me calm and potion of dreamless sleep to try to help me get through the night. But sometimes my body fights against it. The nightmares aren't just of Flint anymore. Oliver has begun to appear in them. I'll be curled up in a ball on the floor of a pitch black room when I hear a voice. Oliver walks out of the shadows with a malicious expression on his face and he proceeds to tell me how worthless I am and how could he love someone as damaged as me. I always wake up shaking and in tears with Gemma at my side, panicked, asking if she needs to take me to the hospital wing.
"I'll give you some more, but," he says, letting a pause linger in the air.
"But?" I ask.
"You mentioned how a few others know now, correct?" He asks, getting up from his chair.
"Yes," I say, confused as to what he is getting at. "And?"
He makes his way over to his office, and I follow. When we enter, he opens the door of his supply closet and rummages through a wall of vials. "Have you been confiding in any of them about the situation?"
