Warning: mention of cancer. I know that cancer can be triggering for some people, especially those who have lost loved ones to the illness, so I wanted to put a warning.
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"You have fifteen minutes." Hermione said before she closed the door, leaving us alone in her office where the pensive stood.
I looked up at George who stood on the other side of it, twirling his wand around in his hand.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked. "You are not going to like it."
"Why? Because you kissed her back?"
"I didn't."
"Then I don't see why you are so hesitant about this." I said. "Let's start. You know what to do."
He looked at me for a moment, sighing. He really didn't seem like he wanted to do this.
"Dia—"
"I swear to god, George. What happened between you?" I asked. "Why can't you just let me see it, huh? What are you hiding?"
"I'm not hiding anything."
"You better hope you're telling me the truth, because I am so close to leaving you." I said, hearing him exhale at my words.
"Leaving me?" He asked. "You don't mean that."
I shrugged.
"I don't trust you, George. You've completely broken the only thing we had going in our marriage... we had issues but at least we trusted each other. I am tired of always having to do couples counselling with you. It isn't supposed to be this hard."
George didn't answer. He stared at me for a moment before he brought his wand up to his temple and I watched as he pulled a memory from his head, guiding it down to the pensive.
"There you go." He breathed before walking over to sit down.
I looked at him as he sat down, running a hand over his face, then I grabbed the edges of the pensive and looked into it.
It felt like I was pulled into the pensive before falling from up high. Like my body was pulled in many different directions.
Then I stood in a living room. I didn't know whose it was but it was for sure that it had nothing to do with Quidditch like George told me.
This was a flat.
George had been lying to me again.
I looked around, noticing a few pictures up on the walls.
Angelina.
This was her flat.
My heart ached. Why would his memory be in her flat? Why would he be in her flat, and why would he lie about it?
One picture on the wall was of Angelina and George on their wedding day. They both looked so young. They must've been in their early twenties.
I felt my stomach burn with jealousy as I watched the happiness on their faces.
She had known him for way longer than I had and for some reason, that really pissed me off.
"Have you been taking your medication?"
I turned around at the sound of George's voice. He and Angelina walked next to each other, entering the living room.
She looked different from when I saw her many years ago.
She looked weak, she had very little hair as if she had been bald but it was growing back.
Each carried a cup of tea and they sat down in the sofa.
