another year, broken apart into memories (гет)

“Ready?” she asks, and with the question finally turns around to face him.
He is stiff, and angry. Hates being made vulnerable like this. She can tell; the way he grinds his teeth, straightens his back. His words, when they come, are chewed up and spat out, sharp little pieces of flint.
“Fucking… Just get on with it.”
She nods once, and points her wand at him.
“Obliviate.”