Chapter Text
The floor was sticky, it smelled strongly of alcohol, the music was too loud, and the lights too bright. It was mind-numbing, really. That’s why Barty liked clubs.
He didn’t actually go there very often. Just a couple times a year when he was manic, or he really wanted to get laid. The two usually coincided. This was the first time in a while that he was there for neither of those reasons.
He didn’t even know why he was there. He wasn’t particularly horny, and he didn’t want to drink out of fear that it would f*ck with his meds. After almost a year Pandora had managed to fix up Monty’s recipe to one that worked on him. It was a lot of slight dosage changes, a lot of him feeling numb as f*ck. He hated those meds, but he wanted to get better, to be somewhat stable, for Harry.
He remembered being in this exact club before, 8 years ago. He’d just turned 18 a couple days prior, 19 days after Evan. He’d always bragged about being the oldest, calling him and Reg children, saying things like ‘when you’ll be my age’.
Evan had convinced him to go to a muggle club, cause they could. And they did because back then he never said no to alcohol. Being there now, it was almost like the memories were replaying before him.
He was standing on the side of the dancefloor, his eyes following a girl with a particularly nice rack. “If you want to get laid, I don’t mind,” Evan said into his ear, startling him. He turned towards his boyfriend. Evan was smiling, but he still didn’t believe he truly wouldn’t mind him sleeping with someone else. Thinking about it even if Evan truly didn’t mind, he still wouldn’t do it.
“Nah, I'm good,” he said. Evan smiled a little brighter as he handed him a shot. The truth was, with Evan, he was worth more than sex.
He should leave, he needed to leave. As he headed for the door, Barty bumped into someone. It was a girl with an afro and big loop earrings, she was wearing a short pink dress, and she looked familiar. She apologized as he racked his brain trying to remember where he’d met her.
“Mary?” it finally hit him. Mary Macdonald was a gryffindor in the year above who, if his memory served him right, was close friends with Lily. He hoped he was right because then she might want to meet Harry.
Barty, Xen, and Pandora did all they could to tell Harry about his parents. They, of course, had more than enough stories about Reg, and James liked being the center of attention so much that it was almost impossible to not have stories about him. But Lily, further than the basics of she was nice and smart and had a study group Pandora sometimes joined, they had nothing.
Harry never asked for more stories about her, but they could tell he wanted to know more. She was his mother, after all. Some wouldn’t think so, because Regulus gave birth to him, but Lily had taken him in and loved him for as long as she could. As Harry grew older, they could see more and more a speck of green at the bottom of his right eye. Lily had blood adopted him, and she’d given her life for her son. So, she deserved to be remembered as his parent just as much as Regulus and James.
“Do I know you?” she asked. They’d never interacted much so he didn’t expect her to remember him. Especially since he had ‘died’ in Azkaban. “I’m Barty,” she seemed to still not know who he was, so he added, “from Hogwarts.”
“Hogwarts,” she repeated, “that sounds familiar.” Did she not remember? “We both went to school there. I was in the year below you,” he said. “Oh, I see. I think I had an accident, I have almost no memories from age 11 to 21, sorry.”
She obliviated herself. In a way he understood, there were moments when the pain was too much, when he considered getting rid of it all. He never did though, because no matter how bad the pain got, it wasn’t worth losing the good parts.
“No need to apologize, I don’t even think we’d count as acquaintances,” Barty said as he turned to leave. It was disappointing but nothing he could change.
“Wait,” he heard right before he turned into an alley to apparate away. He turned to see Mary running out of the club, a little out of breath as she reached him. “Could I have your phone number?” she asked.
The confusion must have shown on his face because she immediately elaborated, “It’s just that you’re the first person I’ve come across who knew me back then.” He was about to refuse, she had clearly obliviated herself because she wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world anymore, when she said, “I want to know who I was. No, I need to know who I was.”
It spoke to him, the emotion in her voice. This pure desire for answers, he had the same when it came to Regulus. “I don’t have a phone, but my roommate has one,” he said as he grabbed her hand and wrote down the number Dora made him memories on her hand. “So, if the person who answers is called Pandora or Xen it’s still the right number,” he added as he left.
It was a week before she called. He’d just finished braiding Luna’s hair when the phone rang. Xen and Dora were outside with Harry, so he answered the phone. “Hello?” Barty said.
“Hello, is Barty here?” she asked. “Yes, this is he,” he answered. “I’m Mary, from the club,” she added the last part as an afterthought. “Yes, I know who you are.” It wasn’t as if many, or any, people called asking for him.
“Great, I would like to meet up, so you can tell me everything you remember about me. Would 2 pm tomorrow work?” said Mary. “Let me check,” he said knowing that the only days he had places to be were birthdays and death days. He even paused for a few seconds, so he really seemed to be checking. “Ah yes, I’m free tomorrow. Where would you like to meet up?” he asked.
“There’s a cafe about a block from the club we met. It’s called Manor Mocha; do you know it?” He had no idea what she was talking about, so he of course said, “Yes, I’m familiar with it.”
Barty got to the cafe at 2:05 which was probably fine. He saw Mary sitting at a table next to a window at the far back of the restaurant. “Hello, I’m glad you came,” she said as soon as she saw him. She was smiling but he could see the nervousness in her eyes. “Well, I had nothing better to do,” said Barty. “Still, I appreciate it,” she looked down at her half-drank cup of coffee and added, “Do you want something, if so it’s on me.”
“No need, I don’t like coffee. We should just get started. What do you remember exactly?” he said. “I remember my life until I was 11 as well as the next person, but after that, it gets spotty. I can only remember pieces of summer holidays and things like that. Nothing about my school.” If he hadn’t been sure before, he’d be now. This was an obliviation, and a skillfully done one at that.
“Have you ever thought that maybe the reason you don’t remember it is because you don’t want to?” he asked. She frowned, “Why wouldn’t I want to remember.” He looked her straight in the eyes and answered, “Because no one does.” It was the truth. Dora, Rabastan, Sirius, Xen, Snape, Asta, Raphael, and all the others, all the survivors, were still stuck in the war. Struggling to swim out of the memories drowning them.
“Nothing could be worse than having a hole in your head,” was her response. He shrugged, “Well, if you really want to know.” He took a picture out of his pocket and threw it over to Mary.
She stared at the picture momentarily before exclaiming, “That’s really me.” She looked shocked. “What? You thought I was lying,” she didn’t respond, if anything she looked a bit ashamed,” I don’t blame you, I would have doubted me too.”
“Who are they?” she asked looking back at the picture. He’d gotten it from Pandora’s yearbook. She was a sentimental, so she’d kept it, in it had been multiple pictures of friend groups. That particular picture was one of Mary, Lily, and Marlene. “Your best friends,” he answered simply.
“They're both dead,” he added a second later. Her eyes widened and she looked back up at him. “See why you wouldn’t want to remember now?”
