Drowning Away the Memories(Neville first + Anyone)

[Ron Weasley]

Ron's eyes slowly opened. The sun filtered through his poorly drawn curtains on the window to his room in the Burrow. He growled and rolled over, grabbing his wand off his nightstand he flicked it a little to angrily and tore the curtain completely off the window. With an angry grunt Ron rolled over and sat up. Ron didn't look to good anymore. He had taken Harry's death rather hard. For the past few months he had done nothing but sit in this room, rarely coming out only to use the bathroom and grab some extra food rations. He ate just enough to keep him alive and it was showing. Ron had always been skinny, but now he was just dangerously thin. His skin was pale and his body seemed to sag. His hair was matted and dirty and it clung to his head. Finally he kicked off the blankets and stood up. Judging from the light outside it was close to the middle of the afternoon. Sleeping this late had become natural for Ron. He glanced at his nightable and noticed the bottle of Firewhiskey sitting there, its contents nearly completed.

This was another habit of his that had become natural for him. Ron drank much more Firewhiskey now a days than he should. He drank enough to put even Hagrid under the table on some nights. He sighed, noticing that his supply was running low. It was time for one of his rare trips to Hogsmeade to replenish this supply. Ron quickly left his room and climbed into the shower, his one act that showed that he was still human. He climbed out and began to get dressed. His hair was clean, but still knotted and unkempt. And no amount of showering could get rid of the paleness of his skin, or how his eyes seemed to be sunk back into their eye sockets. Ron moved swiftly and quietly through the house, knowing that the Burrow was rarely empty at this time of the day. He slipped through the living room, stealing a glance and noticing Ginny and his mother in the kitchen and quickly exited. He heard a distant "Ron?" As he opened the door and entered the yard, he could not tell if it had come from Ginny or his mother and he didn't care.

Ron broke into a run and reached the gate. With that he quickly pictured his destination and spun on the spot, disappearing with a Crack!. Ron Reappeared similarly in Hogsmeade. The sight of the place flooding him with many unwanted memories. How many times had he, Harry, and Hermione traveled here? Had adventures here? Ron quickly shook the unwanted memories away. He had been robbed prematurely of his best, and most longest, friend. Nothing in the world seemed fair and Ron hardly wanted to dwell on those memories now. He moved quickly, knowing the way to the Three Broomsticks by heart. usually Ron would feel happy, and slightly embarrassed entering here. Trying to catch the eye of Madam Rosmerta, but he was beyond that now.

He moved to the bar, thinking only to order a few bottles and be gone, but as soon as he took his seat he decided against that course. It would be a waste if he didn't have a few drinks now that he was here, besides, a few glasses would help blur those memories that had just recently reentered his mind. "Firewhiskey." He muttered at the barmaid and in a few seconds a glass was in front of him. Ron downed it in one gulped, slamming the cup down and ordering another.

[Professor Neville Longbottom]

"No, really. I'm fine thanks." The three laughing girls continued to claw at him. Neville, never being one for undue attention from the opposite sex, tried to get away. The girls were quite persistent though in their endeavor to kiss the cheek of the savior of the wizarding world. Suddenly, one of the girls made a dive with her puckering lips and Neville dipped down under their groping arms. "Sorry girls. I'm late for a dinner date!" He waved as the girls moaned a sorrowful goodbye. It almost scared Neville that everyone who he passed in Hogsmeade knew who he was. He had moved to Hogsmeade shortly after that faithful night with Voldemort. He had been offered a job at Hogwarts in the greenhouses to help Madame Pomfrey and Professor Sprout tend the many plants that resided there. It was a full time job. He loved his time in the greenhouses. It was the only place he could get away from his so called adoring fans.

Neville finally fell through the door of the The Three Broomsticks as another wizard eagerly shook his hand. "Knew your parents, Mr. Longbottom. Great aurors they were. I knew you would make them proud." Neville uttered a quick thank you and turned his back to the door. The bar was empty except for a red headed fellow at the bar. "Could you get me some Goblin Wine, Helen? I'm wanting something a bit different tonight. You're looking awfully pretty tonight." Neville sat by the other man at the bar. Neville didn't even recognize him since he only had eyes for the beautiful blond barmaid behind the counter. Neville didn't really drink that much, but he made sure to come by the bar every night to see her. Helen giggled and made herself busy. Neville could only stare. Helen turned around and said, "I have to go in the back to get it. Madame Rosmerta won't let us keep it up front." She soon disappeared behind the swinging door.

Neville sighed and relaxed once she was gone. "Quite beautiful, isn't she?" He was trying to make small talk to the stranger at the side. "I've been trying to muster up the courage to ask her out for the longest, but you know how things go." Neville blushed. He could still see a tiny bit of her through the window in the kitchen door. Neville finally turned to look to the man. "Oh bloody hell -" Neville's words caught in his throat.

"Ron?" The red headed man was nothing held nothing but a feeble resemblance to his old friend. "Ron? What's happened to you? People have been saying that you had dropped out of sight like Harry did before....before..." Neville dropped off; not even wanting mentioning that faithful night that had made him a hero, and the Boy Who Lived nothing more than a casualty. Neville looked down to the bar and saw that Ron's hand was firmly clasped around a bottle of firewhiskey. "That's rough stuff, Mate. You look like you've put enough of that stuff away."

[Ron Weasley]

Ron found, with a frown, that the order of cups just wasn't moving fast enough for him. So with a flick of his wand he made an entire bottle of Firewhiskey float to him. He nearly missed the grab and the bottle almost shattered against the floor. Helen the bar maid was about to protest but Ron was quicker on the draw as he dropped a fat pouch onto the table. "This should pay for it." He said under his breath before popping off the cork and refilling his glass. The first four to five shots came in rapid succession. Until finally, Ron found to his pleasure, he could no longer feel the tips of any of his extremities and his brain already had the slight feeling of floating a few inches in his skull. Now Ron slowed down, sort of. Instead of filling up the glass in shot volumes, he filled it to the near top, though it took him a few minutes to quaff this quantity.

He had lost track of the time, and which memory had driven him in her, when suddenly somebody burst into the Three Broomsticks. Ron spared merely a glance at the loud newcomer, he though he saw something familiar, but than the man was engulfed in a small crowd of people and Ron took his interest back to his glass of Firewhiskey. Ron blinked a few times, why had he come in here again? He was about to begin contemplating this new development when the man that had entered made an appearance directly beside Ron and began to speak. It took Ron a second to even realize he was being spoken to and he looked up just as the man apparently recognized him.

Ron also recognized Neville and it had immediate sobering effect upon him, sort off. Ron was kicked out of his comfortable haze and back into a state of serene numbness, a state that Ron found did not repel his painful memories. He glanced down at his bottle of Firewhiskey as Neville rose concerns about it. "What this?" He asked, a slight drawl in his speech. "Nah, this is just the beginning, here." He refilled the glass and backhanded down the short length of bar to Neville. Pulling out his wand again he flicked it a little to hard and sent another glass flying at him. Ron hadn't been Quidditch Keeper for nothing though as his own hand shot out and caught the glass just as it was about to soar past him.

The save nearly lost Ron his seat but he managed to situate himself once more. He filled this glass to and held it up to Neville. "To Neville, the Boy-Who-Vanquished. Successor to The Boy-Who-Lived." Without even waiting for Neville to respond Ron tapped his glass and than down it in one swig.

[sisi]

((OK, thanks and sorry it took so long for me to reply))

"Good morning, nonna," Sicilia whispered as she laid a tender hand on Madame Bissell's weak arm. The old woman, who had been like a grandmother to Sicilia, jumped in surprise at the gentle touch. Her blue eyes searched Sicilia's face with the blank look of nonrecognition. Sicilia felt the familiar tears press her eyes.

"Nonna... nonna it's me. Sicilia?" Sisi tried her best to make the woman realize who was standing over her bed. However, it was no use. The disease that had tore apart her brain made it impossible to recognize anyone but her husband. She couldn't talk very well, always forgetting the right word to describe something and, the usually calm and serene woman, would become angry and try to hurt herself. They had to take away anything sharp or heavy and lock her in her room.

The day the mismatched family heard that Madame Bissell had come down with Alzheimer's Disease was the worst day of Sicilia's life. Although not by blood, Sicilia always thought of the woman as a grandmother. Someone to give her advice, to comfort her, and make her laugh. It was especially hard for Sicilia to hear that the old woman's symptoms were increasing rapidly and she would die very soon.

With a sigh, Sicilia abandoned her attempt at speaking with her grandmother and exited the room. The smells of the cafe below that Sicilia missed so much were now gone. When Madame Bissell fell ill a month before, they had to close the shop that so many Hogsmeade inhabitants loved. Now the smells of coffee and creams were gone and Sicilia felt a piece of her missing. She loved her home. With Madame Bissell singing and dancing in other languages as she brewed some tea and her mother dancing along, singing an old Italian hymn that she heard at church so many years ago or Captain Bissell returning from a month of sailing across the ocean. Without her nonna dancing and singing and the smells of her cafe shop, it all seemed empty.

As she entered the kitchen, her mother looked up with a hopeful glint in her eyes. Sicilia knew what her mother had been hoping for. A sign or moment when Madame Bissell would seem herself again. To show that the healers at St. Mungo's were wrong. There was a cure, love, but their hopes were for naught. There was no cure and the old woman they loved so dearly would die. Sicilia despised the way she shook her head "no" with her own eyes mirroring her feelings. Vesta took a deep breath, blinking her eyes so that tears would no fall. Sicilia did the same as she took a seat at the table, where Captain Bissell, who was now retired and so they called him Robert, passed her a cup of hot coffee.

The smells brought back memories of her grandmother, who lay dieing in the other room. She couldn't bear the thought any longer and shoved the cup away from her. It tipped over the side of the table and smashed, sending dark brown coffee everywhere. Robert nodded, waving his wand to clean up the mess and sat down again, across from Vesta. Sicilia looked from her mother to the man who saved them both and stood, as quickly as she had thrown the coffee cup. Her mother looked up at her with red, puffy eyes, but did not jump in surprise at Sicilia's sudden movement.

"Non posso stare in piedi questo!" She screamed in Italian. Robert didn't look away from his cup of coffee, her mother sighed, "I just... It's so..." She made a frustrated sound that was something like a sigh and stormed from the house. She couldn't even look in the windows of the cafe shop as she passed. It was too painful.

Walking through Hogsmeade, where she lived, Sicilia didn't even know where she was going. She recognized other students as she passed them, but couldn't look them in the eye. She ignored people's hellos and continued, staring straight at the ground. The sun was shining and it felt nothing like warmth. The usually sunny and happy girl was now reduced to blind walking as she stormed down the street. What was she doing? She couldn't forget the old woman; so then why was she so desperate to run away?

Finally, Sicilia stopped walking and looked up. She was standing in front of the Three Broomsticks. Without another thought, she walked in. The bar maid smiled at her, but Sicilia didn't notice. She stared at her feet as she walked to the bar, sitting down and slamming her head onto the marble. She wanted to scream, but a whimper left her lips instead. Her body relaxed from the sudden pain, almost as if it jolted her into submission, her arms went limp and her forehead remained on the bar counter.


((translations: nonna = grandmother
Non posso stare in piedi questo! = I can't stand this!))