Disclaimer: I do not own the Pensieve on the cover (property WB) nor the characters and world this story takes place in (property JK Rowling). Specific scene and dialogue from this is from Deathly Hallows, which I did not write.

A/N: I was having difficulty with the Three Prompts Comp, and then Lamia posted the first round of Test Your Limits II and now I love her :D This is probably one of the hardest things I've written, but I really like what I came up with. I know there are a lot of next-gen-Pensieve stories, but I think mine is a different take on it, and is far more serious than most. It also fits nicely with the empty part of my head canon that is now fulfilled- in it, I said all the parents would tell their children the war stories at age 16. Hugo, being Ron and Hermione's curious child, ends up having to be told earlier. Also, this piece is super dialogue-heavy, and I hope I haven't made a mistake with that. Written for: (skip to the story now)

three prompts comp: Hugo, dream, "I can tell when you're lying"; test limits ii comp: rnd 1: memory is the theme of your fic, bonus prompts: ephemeral, "we'll see what your mother has to say about that", cauldron; spells comp: tergeo: write about Hermione; disney comp: alice: write about journey that changes someone's view on something; fav song challenge: beatles: hey jude; quotes for all occasions comp: inspirational: aristotle onassis quote; wand wood comp: hazel: write an emotional canon scene from someone else's POV; divergent challenge: veronica roth quote; delirium comp: easy: "If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging up your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do - the only thing - is run."; weasleys, weasleys challenge: write platonic weasley relationships; Eurovision comp: Azerbaijan: write someone doing something they know is wrong; hunger games comp: coin: write about someone making a bad decision;

It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light. - Aristotle Onassis

Hey Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make it better

Hey Jude, don't be afraid
You were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better

Hey Jude, The Beatles

Nightmares

"We'll see what your mother has to say about that, Hugh," Ron Weasley said firmly, fists shaking with anger.

Hugo didn't really give a damn. At this point, he was seething. "I don't care what she has to say! Merlin, I just want to go to Diagon Alley, not run away. I'm twelve years old."

"Rose is fourteen, and she's not allowed out by herself, either. You just turned twelve, Hugo. It's not an on off switch where you're suddenly mature and responsible—"

"Twelve means I've been at Hogwarts for a year. It means I know magic. It means mates outside of this family who I want to see. Why doesn't that come with some trust?"

Ron laughed out loud at that. "Do you know what Uncle Harry and I did at Hogwarts, at twelve?"

"I want to go get ice cream with Jordan Wood, whose parents you've known since Hogwarts. Who, by the way, said he could meet me at the Leaky on his own. I'll be in the public, surrounded by people, with a friend. How is that not safe?"

"It's different for us, Hugh. You just don't understand," Ron sighed.

"How would I? You don't tell us anything!" Hugo shouted up at his father.

"There are things we don't want you to hear, Hugo. It's just not right. You have no idea what we went through, how strong we all had to be and weren't. Except for Mum, of course. She was stronger than the lot of us put together."

"Strong? I can't even go to The Leaky Cauldron! Bloody— "

"Watch your mouth!"

"Heroes, can't even face a couple of reporters." Hugo stomped his foot, turning away from his father in a rage. Ron's anger skyrocketed. He reached out to grip his son's shoulder, forcefully turning him around. Hugo tried to shove him off, and refused to meet his eyes.

"Look at me, Hugo, or I swear to Merlin, you won't leave this house for a month." As only an enraged child could, he half raised his eyes and quirked a nonchalant eyebrow, infuriating his father and knowing it. His grip tightened, and Hugo refused to wince. Ron wouldn't hurt him, he couldn't, but the trouble he was going to be in was limitless, at the moment. "I swear to Merlin, Hugo, if you don't wipe that look off your—"

"What's going on?" Hermione's voice rang through the air, taking in the scene before her. It was not angry yet, but severely pressing. Rose, watching on from the staircase, gave her mother a hopeless shrug. Hermione hastily made her way to the pair, laying a hand on Ron's arm to ease him up, and then placing her hand on Hugo's shoulder. She moved her other hand and placed it under his chin, raising her son's eyes to meet hers. "Hugo, tell me why you are arguing this instant."

Hugo shoved his mother's hand away, yanking his gaze from hers. "I want to get out of this house. Jordan asked me if I wanted to get ice cream, and Dad is keeping me captive."

"That's bollocks—"

"Ron—"

"You know full well why I won't let you go," Ron's booming voice rang out, again yanking on his son's arm to meet his parents' eyes. Hugo finally looked at them full on. "I cannot leave today, and you cannot go by yourself. Besides that, you haven't done your chores, haven't helped me or your sister clean all day, and I've had enough of your new-found attitude. This wasn't supposed to kick in until thirteen, anyway, and it's going to stop, unless you want a world of trouble."

Hugo stomped his foot, letting out an angry protest that didn't reach full volume. "Why do you two have to keep me here all day? All bloody day?"

"Watch your language, Hugo."

"Just stop, Mum. I would be all right if you guys came, but you won't! You never do! All I hear is how great my parents are and they won't even face a couple of admirers so I can have a decent time out? I'm sick of this. I want a normal family."

The silence was ephemeral, but the effect was obvious. Rose sucked in a breath, and Hermione sagged, hurt in her eyes. Ron, too, slacked for a moment. Then Hermione cut through the quiet, quick and demanding.

"Hugo. Look at me, now. We may have disagreements, but that does mean you get to speak to me or your father like that, do you understand? We will not go on about the things we did at our age because those are horrors we don't want you to face. With those horrors came fame we do not want. I'm sorry, but with the way you've acted today, no, we cannot go. We will talk about this later. For now, finish your chores, and maybe we'll go out tomorrow. But before that, you owe both me and your father in apology. We deserve respect, understand that."

"This isn't fair!"

"I do not care what's fair!" Ron said, eyeing down his son. "We did not ask for this, we cannot control it. You do not know what it was like, and you will not pretend as if you do. Do you understand me?" Hugo firmly shook his head. "Then go to your room, now."

"I- I hate you!" The boy turned and ran, dashing up the stairs. Rose stared at her parents blankly for a moment, and then up at Hugo. Ron and Hermione sighed collectively.

"What's up with him?"

"It's a stage, it always is. He'll get over it. Mine kicked in a bit early, too, ask Mum."

"Oh I know, she's told me," Hermione responded, rolling her eyes. "Rose," she said, addressing her daughter, "Could you go upstairs? Your father and I need to talk." Rose nodded, running up. As soon as she was gone, Hermione sat, kicked off her work heels and slumped against the back of the couch. Ron followed suit.

"Do you think he hates me, Hermione?" asked Ron, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course not, love. It's like you said, it's a stage. He's just angry. We say things we don't mean."

"But...the way he looked at me..."

"Ron, look at me." She took his face between her hands. "He's your son. He's young and tempered and through a fit. He loves you, more than anything." Eventually, he nodded, kissing her lightly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't control my temper," he said quietly. Hermione took his hand.

"You could, you did. You didn't let it get too far, and that's what's important." She kissed his cheek.

"It's just...the things he said about you—"

"He's twelve. He doesn't understand yet. We made the decision to tell them when they reached sixteen. It will stay that way."

"He shouldn't have to understand. He should listen because your his Mum."

"Right. Twelve year old boys do that, exactly," Hermione said sarcastically. "Ron, he's exactly like you. We'll talk to him later. Just relax for now, okay? Work was awful today. This did not help."

Ron smiled a little. "Yeah, sorry," he said, squeezing her hand.

"Quite alright," she whispered, eyes closed, drifting off against his shoulder. Ron brushed his lips against her forehead.

"Wow, Hugo, that was bad," Rose's voice carried through the hall upstairs, and Hugo groaned from his bed.

"I know, okay? I know. And I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things, but still. I was mad. It's not like you've never had a fight with Mum and Dad. Stop looking at me like that." Hugo couldn't see her, but he didn't have to.

Rose complied, moving towards the sound of his voice. He sat in a hunched position, palms pressed into his eyes. He took a deep breath and laid back, trying to keep the tears from stinging his eyes. The way they had looked at him, after he said...

"It's okay, Hughie," Rose said, her voice soft. She reached over to rub his arm.

"It's not," Hugo grumbled, breathing deeply. "And don't call me that. I wanted to make a point, how scared they were, but I took it too far. I'm not sorry for the things I said, I wasn't, right up until—"

"Yeah, that was bad."

"Rose."

"Sorry, sorry," she grinned sheepishly. "They know you don't mean it."

Hugo wasn't sure about that. All he wanted was to go for ice cream, that's it. How had it gone that far? Right now, he felt like an awful person. He couldn't take it back, not really, because what he said was really how he felt: he wanted a normal family. One that didn't get mobbed in Diagon Alley. One's whose faces weren't plastered all over the Wizarding World. He didn't hate his parents, no, but right then—. He tried to push his guilt away, the images of their hurt looks burning into his brain. It doesn't matter he told himself.

It doesn't.

Rose tugged on his arm.

"Come on, Hugh, look at me."

"Never say that again."

Silence settled in the small bedroom, not comfortable but furious.

"I meant those things. I wanted to hurt them," he said finally. "Not that last thing, but I did. I just...I want a little freedom, Rose, don't you?"

"Of course I do, but I'm not about to blow up about it."

"Don't try and make me feel bad."

"Why would you say that? You shouldn't feel bad."

"I can tell when you're lying."

"Okay, you should feel awful."

"Stop," Hugo said, standing briskly, and shoving Rose away. "I'm not staying here."

"You're just going to get in more trouble."

"I don't care! Why doesn't anyone in this house get that?" His footsteps were harsh, moving through the hallways with an angry push. Arriving at his Mum's study, he roughly shoved open the door. When the children were young, Ron and Hermione had locked it, but when they both reached age ten, Hermione decided they were responsible enough to know they were not allowed inside unless they wanted a book. It also happened to be Hermione's private, personal, ridiculously extensive library. And like their mother (though Hugo loathed to admit it), they adored reading.

Hugo had been in it before, and so had Rose. Sitting on their Mum's lap as she read them a story, having tea midday (this was mostly Rose, admittedly), curled up beside the fire with cocoa and a good book after a long day. It was a warm, cozy place. Hermione's retreat.

Also, both Rose and Hugo knew it was home to the answers they wanted. Why their parents were famous, what they had done to defeat the famous Tom Riddle. It was a mystery to them both, and in Hugo's recklessness, he decided that it was time for answers.

Now.

"Hugo, we shouldn't be in here. You and I both know you don't want to read now."

Hugo's eyes eagerly took in the scene: a cauldron bubbling in the corner, his mother's latest potions experiment. Not for work, of course. She did those sorts of things for fun. Stacks of parchment sat half a metre high on the desk, and beside it was a stack of books twice the height of the parchment. A much shorter stack contained the books she was in the middle of at the moment. A collection of quills, a dusting of light scattering from the windows, a fireplace in the corner, out because no one was using it.

And in the corner, his parents' Pensieve, under lock and key. The thing he was absolutely, under no circumstances, allowed to touch, use, or be within three metres of.

"Don't you dare, Hugh!" exclaimed Rose, noticing him eyeing the basin of flowing, bright strands of light.

"Who are you, Mum? I want to know. If I'm never going to have any freedom, I'd like to know why. Alohomora." Hugo couldn't believe his Mum hadn't put a spell on it.

They probably trusted them enough at this point. That was a mistake.

He looked straight down into the gaseous liquid, no particular memory floating to the surface. He looked back to Rose. "Are you coming?"

"Of course I'm coming! You can't go in there alone, it's dangerous! You can barely do magic." Hugo rolled his eyes, waiting for Rose to come and join him. "We shouldn't be doing this."

Hugo did not reply, but instead plunged head first into the Pensieve, sucked into a void.

Rose looked helplessly on, and then went straight in after him.

Rose was falling.

When Rose had asked her mother about it, she was told it was where they placed their memories, and that was all. But never in her life had she seen her parents take a trip into the Pensieve, and this told Rose one thing.

Ron and Hermione Weasley's Pensieve was not a place filled with moments they wanted to relive, happy memories to keep forever.

It was where they placed the horrible memories, the horrors they so rarely revealed.

Where they discarded the things that didn't let them sleep at night.

And she knew Hugo knew this too, because he wasn't an idiot, and at that instant, she wanted to strangle him, because he was an idiot. But there's no way she was going to let him face that alone. After all, she studied these, she knew how they worked. Once she reached the memory, she would tug right up on Hugo's arm and get out of there. No need to tell Mum and Dad.

She hoped.

All these thoughts flew out the window when she felt feet on solid ground, and before them stood the formidable Malfoy Manor, famous in every respect of the word, and in front of it were three thin, young, starving teenagers that she soon recognized were her Mum, Dad, and Uncle Harry with an awful sting.

Rose screamed.

Hugo looked on the scene with horror. Never had he seen his father's blue eyes, identical to his own, look so lifeless. His mother's warm brown ones, so void of hope. Beside him, Rose's scream cut through his hazy vision, and he grabbed her on the arm, hastily shushing her.

"Hugo...we...need...to...go...now!" she panted, trying to tug on his arm, trying to get them out of there. As soon as she started it, he moved away from her. These were his parents: they were fine. They had lived, and fell in love like a million years ago and got married. He was living proof of that, so how bad could this be? This was the sort of brave thing he was told they had done. Now he could see it, first hand, because he knew neither would ever tell this story.

They were being pushed ahead harshly, by three men who Hugo spared barely more than a glance at, but they had some of the most cruel looks ever worn. Next to him, Rose was shaking. He grabbed her and shushed her.

"Don't you dare shush me. They can't hear us, and I'm going to scream your ear off for getting us into this mess, dimwit." She delivered a sharp slap to the back of his head.

"Rose, come on. They survive this. It'll be fine. Don't you want to see what people always go on about? The brave feats of the Harry Potter's closest friends?" Hugo rolled his eyes when she shook her head. "Too bad. Come on."

Following their parents down the path, Hugo tried helplessly to not show Rose how much it made him want to kill the huge, wolfish one when he wrapped a hand around his Mum's hair and scratched at her neck. He held her like that, like walking a dog. All the while, Hugo tried hopelessly to think of how anyone could be so cruel. They were just kids, and they were being treated like punching bags.

Vaguely, he heard a harsh whisper- "We've got Potter!" before the doors to the Manor opened before him, and after they crossed the large expanse of room, climbed steps, and walked through a never ending hallway, there were dark figures taking turns to scrutinize her. The one that stood out was a shaken teenage boy with a shock of white-blond hair.

Rose shivered. Hugo sent her a questioning look. "That's Scorp's Dad," she whispered. Hugo could only look on in horror as his parents and Uncle Harry shook and tried their hardest to look brave.

Hugo thought they did. They did not cower in the face of fear. They looked brave and strong and proud.

Like they had something to fight for.

When he saw the way his parents looked at each other, he was pretty sure he knew what they were fighting for.

And he was definitely starting to think he couldn't handle this.

Then, out of the shadows emerged a woman out of that terrifying horror Muggle film Dad found one day when he and Mum were dating, and let him watch a year ago. Hugo couldn't go to sleep for a week and Mum damn near killed Dad. Her hair was wild and her smile was creepy and her eyes lit up at the prospect of hurting people. They flashed with fire.

While Ron, Harry, and Hermione looked at her with disgust and loathing, never backing down, Hugo flinched.

Then he was positive he couldn't handle this.

"Rose," he told her. "I want to go. Please. Let's get out of here."

She sighed. "Finally making sense, are you?"

The horror movie woman was taking down four wizards at once, and Hugo nodded shakily. "Yes, I was wrong. Let's go!"

"Thank you!"

Just as Rose was tugging on Hugo's arm, she heard, "All except... all except the Mudblood."

The unmistakable voice of their father shouted out, straining against his hold with all his might. Tears stung at Rose's eyes. "No! You can have me, keep me!" Their father received a slap across the face, and Rose choked back a sob. Hugo took her hand, trying to pretend like he was okay when in fact he was crying too.

"Come on, Rose, let's go!"

Rose began to tug on his arm, helplessly trying to get them out of there. "Come on!" urged Hugo. His Mum was yanked by the hair across the room. "Mum," he whispered, horrified.

"I- I can't..." Rose was full on sobbing now, and she remembered something from her books: she had to focus to get them out of there, and with her father's hopeless protests and her mother's brave hold even as she choked up, she couldn't do it.

"Yes, you can! Why- what's happening to- Mum!" An immovable force was pushing the children toward their teenage father.

"It's Dad's memory," Rose whispered. "We can't stay with her." They were forced along after the men pushing their Dad and Uncle down the cellar, and even from five metres behind, Hugo could feel his father shaking with anger. There were tears streaming down his face.

They had just arrived in the cellar when above them came their mother's voice: screaming in the way someone would only if they had experienced the most pain of their life. It sounded as if she was being tore apart.

"Mummy!" Hugo cried desperately. Rose grabbed him and held him in her arms, crying into his shoulder.

At the same instant, Ron bellowed "HERMIONE!"

It's a dream, Hugo convinced himself desperately through his tears, through his mother's ear-shattering screams, his father beating himself down as who he loved most was tortured, it's a dream and I'm going to wake up and be home with Mum and Dad. This is not real.

"HERMIONE!"

This is a dream.

"HERMIONE!" Ron's voice broke, shrinking in the cellar.

This is a nightmare.

"I want to go home," Rose was whispering helplessly through her tears, constantly trying to turn around, raise her head up, tug on his arm, anything to get them out of here. Hugo hugged her tighter.

"Ron," Hermione said, her voice drowsy. "We need to go talk to Hugo now. If he stays in that room all day and closes off contact we won't talk to him for a week."

Ron sighed. "Suppose you're right." He got up first, then took her hand and hauled her up next to her. They walked hand in hand up the stairs, down the Hall to Hugo's room.

"Hugo," Hermione whispered, knocking three times on the door. "Come on, let's talk." Silence followed. "Hugo?" Ron sent her an inquisitive look and then pushed open the door. The room was deserted. "Hugo!" Hermione turned and shouted into the Hall, a touch of panic in her voice. "Let's check Rose's." She ran down the Hall in the opposite direction and stopped dead in her tracks.

Right in front of her was the door to her study, wide open.

Hermione and Ron looked in at the same, and simultaneously lunged forward, panicked, and tore their children from the Pensieve.

Hugo opened his eyes, blinked hopelessly, and then recognition and relief and love passed through his eyes and he lunged toward his parents in a hug, an arm around each of them.

"Dad, Mum," he whispered, crying into them. "I thought...I thought—"

Hermione wrapped an arm around her son, pressing her lips to his forehead. "Shh...baby, we've got you. It was just a dream, all right?" Hermione looked up, ready to scold Rose for letting her brother be so foolish when she lunged forward too, wrapping her arms tightly around Ron.

"Daddy," she cried happily, "Mum!" she turned and hugged her mother then, and Hermione stroked her hair. Hugo, Rose, Ron, and Hermione stayed packed tightly together like that. They waited patiently until both their children were done crying before pulling back only slightly. Hugo was still in the circle of Hermione's arms.

"What did you see?" asked Ron quietly.

"I'm so sorry," Hugo said, looking his father in the eyes. "I love you. I don't hate you I love you and I'm really sorry." Hermione blinked back tears and lunged forward to hug her son again.

"We know sweetheart, of course we do." Hugo turned to hug his father, and Ron held onto him tightly.

"I'm sorry too, Hugh, I shouldn't have been so controlling, or lost my temper."

"No, Dad, I- I was wrong. And I don't hate you." Hugo quickly assured him again, glowing in the fact that they were alive and they were there and they was safe.

Ron laughed slightly. "I know, Hugh. Let's just... work this out, okay? No screaming next time."

"Yeah."

Hermione looked to Rose, now, still searching for an answer. She took a deep breath and didn't meet her mother's eyes. "We were at Malfoy Manor." Both her parents sucked in a breath. "There was this insane woman, and she was torturing you," tears stung her eyes, and Hermione wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"I'm so sorry you kids had to see that," she said quietly. "We...know that your father and I were going to tell you, eventually. When you both turned sixteen. But that...that was something we never, ever planned on telling you. You kids shouldn't have had to go through that."

"You were kids! You and Uncle Harry and Dad, you were barely seventeen! How could they...?"

"Those people don't care, Rose. They're cruel, and merciless, and would have happily murdered every seventeen year old Muggleborn in the country. Forget seventeen, infants even." Hermione sighed, looking to Ron. He nodded at her, encouraging her to go on, and wrapping her hand in his own.

"That night...there are so many things about that night that we have to tell you. But not today, all right? Eventually."

"Scorp's Dad?" Ron grumbled at this. "How- how did you even escape?"

"Dobby," said Ron quietly. This only lead to more questions.

Hermione kissed both her children one last time, and moved to wrap her arms around Ron's, leaning into him. "Eventually, kids. Eventually. There is a reason those memories are in the Pensieve. They are not for reliving, and I do not have the energy nor the courage to recount it to you now."

"I'm sorry," said Hugo quietly. Hermione took his hands and looked into his eyes. "We understand, sweetheart. It's okay."

"I love you," he said.

"We love you too," said Ron. Hugo smiled.

Sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them. - Veronica Roth

Btw, I know it may seem like Hugo is a bit out of character, but trust me, he's not. My brother is 12, and he and my parents have spats like this on a daily basis, explosions over little things. It's just part of being that age.

Anyway, I really loved writing that. Please let me know what you thought!