The Real Memory

When Harry got home from dinner with Ron and Hermione he spent some time looking up some of her articles. As expected, they were all firm and logical in their arguments. Reading them reminded him so much of her arguments on the treatment of House Elves. Except here she was talking about orphanages, gun control, and other muggle concerns.

At about two in the morning her finally turned off his computer and fell into bed, just barely remembering to take out his contacts.

An hour later he awoke in a cold sweat from what could only be described as a nightmare. He had been walking through the Forbidden Forest again, heading to meet Voldemort. Everything felt the same, until he turned the Resurrection Stone in his palm. After that it all changed.

Instead of seeing his parents, Lupin, and Sirius, he saw Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. They all pleaded with him to turn back, that he couldn't do it, that his sacrifice would be for naught. They couldn't win without him alive. That alone was disturbing, but their appearances haunted him. They didn't look like when he last saw them in his Muggle Memories.

Instead they looked like they would now, in this world. Hermione was in her chair, which was somehow able to cover the uneven ground. Ron looked as he had when Harry saw him during dinner, down to the frilly apron. Ginny looked a bit like that red-haired reporter he caught a glimpse of once, but when he woke he couldn't remember her face clearly, he just knew it had been different. Neville had looked –different. That was the only way to describe it. He had looked like the Neville that Harry knew from his Magic Memories, but he had also been different.

As they continued to plead with him he had come upon a swift, rocky stream he had never seen before. Without thinking, he'd stepped into it. The next thing he knew he was being pulled down into water so cold that it stole his breath away. He had struggled, trying to surface, desperate for air as his lungs began to fill with water. Then, just before the world had gone dark and the water had claimed him forever, he had awoken in his bed.

Harry stumbled out of his bed, yanking the door to his balcony open, he went outside and just stood there, staring up at the stars. That was one thing that was the same in both sets of memories – the stars.

Harry gripped the railing and stared up at the familiar stars, trying to remind himself that the dream had not been from his memories – that it couldn't be. There was no magic in this world so there was no Resurrection Stone. And the Ron and Hermione he had seen had been from this world, not the magic world.

There was no way his dream was real.

It was just brought on by his meeting with Ron and Hermione. He'd been so caught up in his Magic Memories lately, comparing these two people with the people he knew in his Magic Memories, when really, they were entirely different people, despite the similarities. All of these thoughts and memories had affected his dreams, giving him nightmares similar to the ones he'd always had at Hogwarts.

Yes, that was it.

Right?

Harry pushed the thoughts out of his mind, clearing it of everything but the snowy concrete under his feet, the icy rail under his fingers, the refreshing breeze against his bare chest, and the glorious stars filling his vision.

He stood there until he felt his muscles beginning to lock up. Only then did he turn around and go back inside.

The bed held no interest for him; Harry had the feeling that more nightmares awaited him there that night. Instead he went into the bathroom, turning on the shower, so that it was as hot as he could stand.

As Harry stood under the scalding water he let all of his fears accompany the water as it went down the drain. His sacrifice had been the right choice. He'd been required to let Voldemort kill him, if he hadn't the horcrux inside of him would still be alive – and so would Voldemort.

Sacrifice had been the only way to save the lives of those he loved and cared about.

Secure in this feeling, Harry put the dream behind him and began thinking up plans for dinner next Friday. Judging from his experience tonight, he couldn't dwell on the past, no matter which past it was, he had to look towards the future and whatever awaited him there.

He obviously couldn't cook something for the dinner. The most he could do in a kitchen was fry up some bacon and scramble some eggs. Anything more advanced than that was beyond his culinary skills, no matter what memories he used. Ron really was better at something.

Harry gave the tiled walls a wry smile at that thought, thinking of how often Ron had felt second-rate when compared with Harry and Hermione. Before the smile could fade from his face he had pushed the memory to the back of his mind as he remembered that he couldn't dwell on the past.

Nothing good had ever come from him dwelling in the past.

XXX

The week passed all too slowly for Harry. Even when he was at practice time seemed to crawl by. He was actually excited about dinner with Ron and Hermione. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this excited, and he didn't really want to.

When Friday arrived Harry rushed home from practice, took a quick shower, and proceeded to set the table. The food he'd ordered earlier that week was supposed to arrive at any moment.

Harry had ultimately decided to order food from a deli down the street from his flat. The doorbell rang and Harry rushed over to let in the deliveryman. The smells wafting up from the package made his stomach rumble.

Harry tipped the deliveryman and began moving the food onto serving dishes. There was a ham with a fresh cranberry sauce for the main course. Then there were two side dishes, a steamed vegetable medley and sautéed garlic potatoes.

He slipped them all into covered serving dishes and got a basket for the rolls he had picked up from the corner bakery. He'd also gotten a chocolate cake with little peppermints decorating it.

Harry had just finished setting up all the food when the doorbell rang again. He had a quick thought of thanks for the doorman for actually listening to him and letting them through. He'd had problems with them in the past refusing to let people in.

Harry chuckled at the memory of the doorman trying to refuse entry to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia when they popped in for a visit last summer. The doorman had probably learned a lesson about actually reading the notes he got on new visitors. Having Uncle Vernon yell at you for the first time was always a memorable moment. Harry had two of those memories.

Shaking his head to get rid of memories, Harry opened the door to reveal Ron and Hermione.

"Hello," he said cheerfully as he moved aside so that they could come inside.

"Hey there," Ron said casually before helping Hermione get her jacket, gloves, and hat off.

Once Hermione was untangled from her winter gear she threw Harry a happy smile. "Thanks for inviting us, most of our friends don't live in buildings with elevators, so we usually do the entertaining."

Harry grinned at Hermione's frankness, "It's my pleasure, I don't entertain nearly often enough. Or at least that's what my teammates say."

Ron and Hermione smiled back at him. Harry was happy to realize that there was still no awkwardness between the three of them. It was as if the three of them were destined to be friends, no matter where they were.

The evening was better than any of Harry's expectations. They never ran out of things to talk about. The only time things got a little awkward was when Ron brought up Harry's fame.

"I still don't get why you're so interested in us. You could be friends with anyone; you're one of the most famous soccer players in England." Ron said from around a mouthful of potato.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. Obviously aware that wasn't the most tactful question, it was a little TOO frank.

"I'm interested in being friends with the two of you because you don't treat me like I'm famous or an object to be possessed. Only my family and teammates treat me like I'm human and I'm not really good friends with any of them, we have different interests." Harry stood up and went to a basket on a nearby table. He grabbed a bottle of sparkling water with a note attached to it. He brought it back to the table.

"This is the response I get from most people." Harry tore the note off the bottle and began reading.

My true love,

Harry you're amazing! I love you! I love the way your grass green eyes sparkle in the sun and the way your skin reflects the sunlight. Your hair makes me want to grip it as I make you mine. I am the only one for you. Want to know what I'd do with you? I'd-

Harry turned red and put the note down. "I usually don't read those anymore, but my agent still delivers them. They're all like that; I'm just an object to most people." Harry shrugged as he tossed the note and bottle back in the basket.

"That's rough," Ron said as Hermione's expression became rather soft.

"So you've had no real friends?" She asked a little hesitantly.

"My cousin and I were close up through high school, but our interests began to differ. He stopped playing sports after college and I made it my life's work. By the time I realized there was a gap in my life I was surrounded by people that could only see me as Harry Potter, the famous orphan soccer star." Harry casually shrugged, trying to keep back memories from the times before his memories converged.

Hermione smiled and said matter-of-factly, "Well, you'll just have to come to our anniversary party on March 18th!"

"Ya!" Ron said enthusiastically, "It's our five-year anniversary, so my parents are throwing us a party!"

Harry agreed and the rest of the evening was spent discussing either his upcoming match with Uruguay or Hermione's recent article on health benefits for city workers.

Harry didn't really care what they were discussing though; he was just happy living in the present and the future. It was too early to say anything to Ron and Hermione about his Magic Memories, they barely knew him, and they weren't likely to believe him if he started talking about wands, invisibility cloaks, flying broomsticks, and a magical school.

No, he'd just have to live without the past until it was time to reveal it to others. It was just too complex to deal with on his own.