Hierarchy of Need [REWRITTEN]

Chapter Twelve

"If you allow me to, I can see if I can extract memories that might be hidden. Perhaps since this is a physical process, more can be revealed." He explained.

Delilah hummed, not quite sure that sounded feasible but she supposed the memories were in her head somewhere regardless if she could remember or not. Though as she thought about it, unease gripped her spine. She wasn't sure she felt comfortable with Dumbledore seeing her memories before she did.

Her scars itched again and she had that thought again. Did she really want to remember everything? Perhaps forgetting was a blessing in disguise. A way for her mind to protect itself.

Dumbledore must've read her thoughts by her troubled expression alone. "I know this can be difficult. Memories are a special, sacred thing to us all. And I know neither of us are sure what we'll find, but Delilah, however much you're uncomfortable, what you have in your head will help get you home."

She knew he was right, but having someone else see everything she might've endured, all the pain... she felt bare. Exposed.

If she wanted to get home though, she had to trust him.

"Okay."

He walked her through how to pull memories from one's head, but since she didn't know what she was looking for she had no idea where to even start. She searched her mind but again it was only the basics. Where she was born. Her parents' names. What her favorite drink was. All of it useless. It was as if her mind was comforting her with a void she didn't dare stare into.

"Sir, I'm sorry but there's nothing there."

Dumbledore rubbed at his chin and thought for a moment. "Perhaps it's best if you focus on your feelings."

She raised a brow at him. "My feelings?"

He nodded. "You can't remember anything but is there a feeling? A sense of unease? Dread? Happiness? Grief?"

She gnawed at her bottom lip and after a moment nodded. "Yes. All of it and I can't differentiate it and I don't know why I'm feeling that way. It's just there, weighing down."

He hummed. "Focus on that, then. We'll see what we can find."

"Can you extract feelings?"

"There's echoes in everything, dear."

She took a deep breath and dove into the aches that have been tearing into her heart and pulled.

After a while and now that she felt like a shell of herself, they both stared into the bowl that had glimmers swirling in the liquid. Not memories per se, but they were something tangible.

"I'll go through these as soon as I can, I'll call on you if any new information arises."

Before Delilah left, he stopped her in the doorway. "Be careful, Miss Pontmercy." His tone was strained and she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Sir?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his fingers steeped under his chin. "Hate cannot live on its own. It must have love as a trigger, as a stimulant. Be wary of who your affections lean towards."

She huffed. Dumbledore, cryptic as ever.

The Slytherin common room was empty, all except a boy standing in the center with a bouquet of flowers and an embarrassed smile.

"Elio?" She smiled lightly at the sight of his flushed cheeks. He was adorable but she felt slightly uncomfortable at the romantic gesture.

"Evening, love." He handed her the roses and she took them after a moment once she came down from her shock. "Riddle told me you were alright."