A/N: Hello there readers. It's been a while. A real long while. But I'm back with a new Drarry oneshot which should be angsty enough so enough :) I've kind of been writing this for a year because I kept stopping and starting but yeah, I think this is the final thing. Also, shameless self promotion, following me on tumblr (cryingbutsmiling) would be nice. I accept prompts and such so that may be fun.
Title: Obliviate
Ship(s): established Drarry, minor Ronmione.
Summary: The day before the Christmas break, Draco has to break some difficult news to Harry.
Word Count: 6,161
Hogwarts in the winter was a picturesque scene. The snow drifted downwards, tumbling from the sky in a cluster of brilliant flakes. Settling on the ground, it glazed the earth with a rich carpet of white dust. A brisk breeze swirled around the castle, attempting in vain to penetrate the impervious walls of the stone school. The Black Lake was frozen over, the ice webbed with an intricate design that only nature can create. The school for young witches and wizards seemed at peace, but this most certainly was not the case.
Hidden behind the slightly frosted glass window of the Astronomy Tower, Draco Malfoy stared down at a group of friends making their way back to the castle from Hagrid's more-than-humble abode. His gaze was heavy, weighted and sorrowful, as was his heart. Although there were clearly three figures trudging through the snow, there was only one person who he was looking at. The boy he loved. Closing his eyes, Draco sighed deeply, his breath making the glass cloudy. Turning from the window, he began the long descent to the dungeons, heading to the potions class.
The overcrowded hallway was loud, bustling with rambunctious and boisterous students who were excited about the Christmas season. The Hogwarts Express would be arriving tomorrow morning to take the students back home for the Christmas break. Most of the students were excitedly anticipating the moment when they would be reunited with their families, recognising the holidays as being a time of fun and festivities. Unfortunately, this would not be the case for Draco.
Trying to avoid contact with the other students, the Slytherin took the stairs at a leisurely pace, his hand trailing along the cold, iron banister. Looking down at the cluster of pupils rushing off to their lessons, Draco noticed one particular Gryffindor student stumbling inside. Ebony hair windswept and cheeks bitten to a rosy hue by the frosty weather, Harry Potter glanced up and met Draco's gaze. Harry's lips stretched into a wide grin that he directed at his boyfriend, who returned the smile weakly, wishing more than ever that he could just disappear amongst the crowds. He didn't want to have contact with Harry right now, wishing to put off the inevitable for as long as possible.
Harry's smile dropped dramatically. He couldn't figure out why Draco wasn't smiling back like he would usually. It was highly irregular behaviour. Whilst Draco was generally a cynical bastard, sometimes more than a little pessimistic, he would usually smile through that when he saw Harry. Any crap happening in his life was irrelevant; when Draco noticed Harry, none of that was supposed to matter.
Harry attempted to barge through the crowd separating them, but the flow of students rushing off to their next lesson was relentless. As he lost sight of Draco, the pale boy seemingly getting lost in the crowd, Harry let out a heavy sigh. He had wanted to deal with whatever was irking Draco quickly, knowing that the problem would begin to eat away at his lover. Caught up in his own thoughts, Harry did not notice the bustle of students thinning out. It was only when he recognised he was the only person left in the hallway that he realised he was going to be late for his next class, Potions with Professor Snape. Great.
The heavy wooden door, decorated with intricate ironwork slammed open, disrupting the perfect silence in the potions classroom. The professor's head snapped up to look at the latecomer and the students turned around in eerie unison to see who was going to be subject to Snape's torment today. They were not too surprised to see Harry Potter standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath from running down a couple of flights of stairs to get to the dungeons.
"Ah, Mr Potter, you've finally decided to grace us with your presence, I see. Are you quite sure this lesson is worthy of your valuable time?" the Potions' Master drawled, not even giving the student the opportunity to apologise for his lateness, although it was highly unlikely that he would've done so anyway.
"Probably not, sir, but I know how much you enjoy it when I turn up for your lessons," Harry replied off-handedly, not really in the mood to engage in a full out verbal sparring session with his teacher, but not willing to let Snape be the only one to get his word in. He slid into his chair effortlessly, taking his usual seat next to his blonde boyfriend. Harry glanced over at him, making eye contact, before Draco looked away.
"Well, feel free to sit down, Potter," Snape spat out sarcastically, before continuing with his lesson.
Harry looked over at Draco again, but the cold eyed boy expertly avoided his stare. Realising that Draco wasn't going to return his gaze, Harry slumped into his chair in defeat. What was happening here? They hadn't gone this long without talking since before they had got together. It frightened Harry immensely. Draco could be an evasive git towards most people, but he'd never keep something that was affecting him from Harry. It just wasn't the dynamic of their relationship.
The lesson both continued endlessly and flew by in a brief blur. As soon as the class was dismissed, Draco raced out of the room but not without leaving a folded piece of parchment on the desk, addressed to Harry. The students were slowly filtering out the classroom, eager to leave, but Harry stayed back a moment or so to unfold the note, smoothing out the creases.
"Potter, unless there is something you wish to discuss, I would much appreciate it if you were to leave my classroom. Now." Snape called from his desk, interrupting Harry before he could read the carefully inked words on the slightly brown paper. Not even bothering to retort, Harry exited the classroom swiftly, stuffing the note in his robe pocket.
Climbing the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower, Harry felt extremely conscious of the note in his pocket. Unable to stop himself, he started picking at the note, playing with it, but ensuring he didn't tear it. Harry didn't know why he was getting so worked up over a small square of parchment, but he felt that the words written on it were going to change everything, and it made him feel sick to his core. He tried to supress his worry, rationalising that it was only a piece of paper, but it was so much more.
Harry quickly uttered the password to the Fat Lady, climbing through the open portrait door in a hurry, and hastily made his way through the Gryffindor common room, brushing off the attentions of a few people who attempted to talk to him. In hindsight, he realised he wasn't exactly tactful, but he was busy. He took the stairs up to the boys' dormitory two at a time. When he finally arrived at his destination, he was glad to see that none of the other boys had returned to their dorm yet.
It looked like nobody had returned to the dorm since that morning. The room was a complete tip, clothes strewn about the place and bedding untidy from where the boys had woken up and hurried down to breakfast, not caring for the state of their room. The only place that held any resemblance of order was the corner where Neville's bed was. The bed was made and his nightclothes were folded neatly on top of his pillow. Although often teased for his tidiness, Neville made sure his stuff was in place every day. Apparently it was a habit he had picked up from living with his somewhat strict grandmother.
Harry tiptoed through the room, careful not to trip over the copious amounts of obstacles cluttering the floor, grimacing slightly at the upturned magazine by Ron's bed which contained a suspicious amount of scantily clad witches. Finally making it to his own bed, Harry flopped down ungracefully. He surveyed the room once more, observing the masses of mess in the room. It was still quite early in the day, he thought, the house elves would probably come along and tidy this all up before everyone retired to bed.
He reached into his pocket and fished out the note. It was slightly more dog-eared now due to all of his fiddling with the parchment on the way up, no longer a crisp piece of paper. He traced his finger down the edge, trying to muster up some of that Gryffindor courage and read it. After being in such a hurry to get here, he found that all of a sudden he did not feel much like reading it at all.
"There's no point in acting so goddamn afraid of a piece of paper," Harry muttered to himself, "read it you bloody idiot. It's probably nothing."
Although not entirely convinced by his own words, Harry unfurled the parchment. Preparing himself for the very worst, not that he was entirely sure of what that might be, he read the cursive black ink of the page.
'Potter, meet me in the Room of Requirement after dinner. It's of the upmost importance, don't be late'
Harry let out the breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding, exhaling heavily. He wasn't sure of what he had been expecting before, perhaps a cruel breakup note, but he felt stupid now, realising this is the only thing this note could have ever been. He still felt intensely worried, though. Draco never referred to him by his last name and hadn't done so since the times when they would fight. He could feel the coldness of the words radiating off of the parchment, and it made him nervous to no end.
The rest of the day passed at an achingly slow speed for Harry. After lunch, he attended his last two lessons of the day, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Flitwick babbled on at about 100 miles an hour, during his Charms class. Harry had tried to make notes, but his hand was sluggish across the paper and his thoughts were elsewhere. Hagrid was still keeping his lessons safe by using the most harmless of creatures (another study of flobberworms, apparently), so Care of Magical Creatures was a completely dull lesson.
Of course, when dinner time finally came, Harry hardly wanted to attend the festivities in the Great Hall. Being the last day before most of the students would return home for Christmas, there was likely to be some feast of sorts, coupled with a speech from the headmaster. Harry knew Dumbledore wasn't one to drone on during his speeches, but he knew it would cause additional time between his meeting with Draco. Harry was painfully torn between wishing the time would go faster and hoping it would slow down. He wanted to see Draco of course, but he still held a dash of anxiety.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, Harry wasn't sure), Dinner passed quickly in a blur of yuletide celebrations. Dumbledore delivered an incredibly brief speech about festivities and the significance of winged reindeer at this time, before calling the students to begin their feast. Harry barely ate; he was far too preoccupied trying to crane his neck to catch sight of the platinum blonde hair of his beloved. Try as he might, Harry did not see Draco at all throughout dinner. He presumed that Draco had never come to the Great Hall this evening, choosing to skip dinner. As the festivities of the evening drew to a close, Harry picked up two mince pies to take with him before heading towards the exit.
"Harry!"
The boy in question turned around at his name somewhat reluctantly, not really wishing to be deterred in his path to Draco. He wanted to get this meeting over quickly. He saw it had been Hermione who had called out his name, attempting to get his attention.
"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione questioned from the table Harry was just leaving.
"I'm just going to see Draco for a bit, I'll meet you in the common room," Harry quickly stated, still moving away at the time. Hermione nodded at Harry, making a noise of acknowledgement before turning her attention back to Ron. Harry quickly shuffled away from them, barging out of the Great Hall and heading towards the Room of Requirement.
Harry quickly found himself on the seventh floor of the castle after having wound his way through some uncharacteristically dingy corridors and climbing up the stairs, which did not seem to be cooperating with him much, choosing to change at the most inopportune of times. He marched past the wall three times, thinking desperately "give me the room with Draco inside", holding onto the thought in his mind and refusing to let go of it, knowing that concentration is key to getting into the Room of Requirement.
A door appeared in the wall and Harry tentatively entered.
He peered inside. He didn't know what he thought the room would look like, but this certainly was not his expectation. The room was dark, incredibly so, with the corners of the room blurring into an intelligible mass of shadows. Harry noticed that the floor was just made of simple stonework, cold and unimportant. The only light in the room came from a fireplace situated in the middle of the room. It was grand by design, large and magnificent, but the fire it housed was dying, almost lifeless, providing none of the splendour that the fireplace deserved. The dim light it offered fell upon a three piece suite, arranged much like the ones in the Gryffindor common room. However, these chairs did not look welcoming at all, an ugly grey colour with the slightest indication of lumps. Now he thought of it, Harry did not feel the least bit welcome in this room.
He could not see Draco but he knew he was in there. He could feel his presence with a stunning accuracy, knowing that he was hiding in the shadows of the room. It was an incredible display of theatrics, and Harry almost dared a slight quirk of his lips at that but avoided a smile, as the drama of the motion was incredibly unnerving. Draco did this often, hid away in the shadowy recesses of an area. He didn't even know if Draco did it on purpose, but Harry knew it was his way of avoiding something, trying to keep away from it for as long as possible. Most people would go to the light instead, where they would feel safer, but the light signified exposal to Draco. He hated being exposed, his innermost thoughts and feelings lay bare, and so he covered them up with shadows instead. A dark way of living, maybe, but it was all he knew.
Harry stepped forward hesitantly, his scuffed leather shoes hitting the stone floor with a quite sound which seemed to resonate through the entire room. The tension in the room was near unbearable, the silence between them electric. Each held their breath, waiting for the other to talk first.
"I thought you'd be here sooner, Potter," a voice came from within the room, the cold tone drifting to meet Harry's ears. Behind the horrible sneer masking the voice, Harry managed to recognise the voice as being Draco's.
Draco moved languidly from the corner in which he was hiding, making his way to the seating in the middle of the room. Harry took this time to really look at Draco. His blonde hair, usually perfectly styled on top of his head, hung limply into his face. His skin which was always of a pale yet vibrant complexion seemed tinted grey and there were obvious signs of fatigue underneath his eyes. Despite this, Draco's face displayed clear evidence of determination, as if he had a very specific purpose and wished not to be side-tracked at all. His eyes were hard, his jaw set and focussed. It frightened Harry to no end.
"Draco," Harry whispered lightly, his gentle tone a harsh contrast to Draco's own snarl. His deep worry and confusion ebbed in his voice, enforcing it and giving it meaning. Draco's head snapped up at the unexpected softness, having not foreseen this reaction as part of his plan. Any look of surprise on his face was quickly removed and he averted his eyes away from the other boy, trying to remain focus. In fact, he turned his back from Harry completely.
"Have a seat," Draco muttered, motioning towards one of the armchairs. Harry noticed how he did not suggest sitting on the sofa, indicating that it was unlikely they would be sitting next to each other and having a nice light conversation. He ignored Draco's request and rushed up to Draco's side, grabbing the pale boy by his arms and turning him around to face him. Harry attempted to look Draco in the eyes but the slightly taller boy was clearly looking away, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Draco," Harry tried again, emitting another soft plea and urging him to just look at him. Draco finally summited to Harry's wish and looked at the other boy. He lost himself for a minute, staring into Harry's strikingly green eyes and allowing the beginnings of a smile to grace his face. Noticing this, Harry began to relax a little. Unfortunately, it was in this moment that Draco caught himself, realising what he was doing. He quickly pushed Harry away, forcing him in the direction of one of the chairs.
"Sit down," He demanded.
"Draco?"
"Potter, sit."
"Just-"
"SIT!"
Harry took a step back, partially startled by Draco's sudden increase in volume and slightly fearing for his safety. He immediately felt guilty for that thought, knowing Draco would never intentionally cause Harry any harm. It was such a silly thought, but the inconceivable anger in Draco's voice caused that small moment of doubt.
Trying to keep some control in the situation, Harry maintained direct eye contact with Draco as he sat down on the nondescript chair. Harry noticed a flicker of uncertainty and anguish beneath the steely gaze that Draco had tried to put up. Noticing something close to comprehension on Harry's face, Draco looked away, staring into one of the dark corners of the room. He cleared his throat really quite delicately before speaking.
"So you're probably wondering why I asked you here, Potter," Draco began rather gently, "Let me -"
"Harry," interjected the Gryffindor boy.
"What?"
"Seriously, Draco? I think we are well beyond last names by now," Harry said somewhat sternly. Both his face and his tone were hard. Draco was making him incredibly worried. What was this all about?
In a quick flash of motion, Draco had swiftly drawn his wand and was pointing it in Harry's direction.
"Do not mess with me, Potter. Do not say anything. Do not do anything. I want you to listen to what I have to say," Draco spat angrily, wand poised and posing the silent threat of what could happen.
Harry sat back for a second. His face displayed no shock at this sudden change in tone. He simply looked Draco straight in the eyes. He saw the false anger immediately. Although a potentially unnerving sight, he continued to lock his gaze with Draco. Over some time, the "anger" ebbed away. It was not until Draco had to look away from Harry that the Gryffindor student spoke.
"What is this all about, Draco?" Harry's voice was soft, barely above a whisper and unassuming. Although Draco was steadily avoiding it, Harry's own gaze was gentle. He lightly placed a hand on Draco's pale cheek and Draco could no longer avoid looking at Harry full on. Harry was quick to notice the tears brimming over the grey eyes.
Harry rose from his chair slowly, as if trying not to alarm the other boy, and wrapped his arms around the Slytherin. He could feel the Malfoy heir shaking in his arms, attempting to hold back his sobs desperately but a few lonely cries escaped. Harry manoeuvred them both onto the couch. Once seated, Draco completely collapsed into his tears.
Looking down on the crying boy, Harry found himself feeling equally as emotional. His eyes were stinging, a tell-tale sign of a wave of tears building up. Suddenly Harry felt very tired, the weight of the day wearing down on him. Confusion overwhelmed him. He knew that he should be feeling sympathetic for Draco even without knowing the reason for his tears, but this feeling was incredibly muted in comparison to how disbelieving he was of this whole situation. Draco had blatantly ignored him all day, summoned him without explanation to this secretive meeting only to break down in tears. What could possibly be going on here?
Harry was hit with the realisation that his tears were not of sadness or even of confusion, more of rage. Impatience crept over him, he wanted some answers now.
He couldn't even bring himself to hush Draco's tears, sitting stiffly with his lover in his arms. Listening to morbidly melodic sounds of Draco's cries, Harry only felt more anger bubbling up inside of him, boiling his blood and making him rash. One quiet, broken whimper was the breaking point for Harry, the final straw which set off a surge of fury.
"Enough!" Harry shouted as he stood, pushing Draco away, "I'm tired, it's late – can you just tell me what's happening so we can move the hell on."
The initial anger in his voice was dwindling by the end of his sentence. Although technically a question, Harry presented it more like a demand. Harry had tried his best to be understanding but his patience was wearing thin.
Draco didn't respond to this new-found anger well, his sudden change in demeanour shocking him. This indignant attitude made him feel slightly stupid for crying. Draco bristled at the first raised syllable, quick to sober up and wiping away the tears from his cheeks as he sat up straight, schooling his face into one of indifference. Of course, this indifference was marred by the glistening tear tracks that still stained his face.
Harry stood over Draco, who was still rigid on the couch, breathing heavily as he tried to get his emotions back under control. A slight prickle of guilt made itself known to Harry; clearly the other boy was upset, perhaps he should have tried harder to be the calm, caring boyfriend. Harry was quick to stifle this guilt, hoping that Draco would just understand that he was a little annoyed right now.
"I brought you here tonight because I believe that we need to talk, Harry," Draco said lowly, not raising his eyes to meet Harry's emerald ones.
Having only just calmed down from the previous outburst, Draco's telling words set Harry on edge again; 'we need to talk' was never a good sign. Harry inhaled deeply and took a deep breath to steady himself. After exhaling noisily, Harry sat back down on the sofa, angled towards Draco who was still facing away, eyes fixed on a point far in the distance.
Feeling the other boy's presence on the couch, Draco continued.
"I need you to remain very calm for me and do not interrupt me until I have finished speaking. Do you promise to do so?" Draco questioned, finally turning to look at Harry.
"Draco, you can't really expect me to-"
"I need your word, Harry. Don't make things more difficult than they have to be," Draco retorted smoothly, responding quickly with clipped words and a sharp tone.
After spearing Draco with a calculating stare, Harry finally nodded his consent, agreeing silently. He was not particularly happy about this turn of events, but he knew this was the quickest way to get this over and done with.
Still sitting completely upright, Draco turned his gaze away from Harry, back to the dark corner of the room.
"My home – no, my house, has been taken over by the Dark Lord," Draco began, this news eliciting a sharp gasp from Harry although the more he thought about it; this information wasn't really that surprising. He refrained from saying anything, however, not wishing to further upset Draco by breaking his vow of silence. Instead, he simply nodded, signalling that he had heard. Not that the gesture was noticed, Draco continued to look away.
"My father, ever trying to get back into the Dark Lord's good books, has arranged to have me initiated as a D-Death Eater tomorrow evening, once I return home," Draco noticed Harry was about to cut in, so he spoke louder and faster over the top of his protests, "Of course, my father does not know we are dating. If he did, I am positive that he would sell us out to the Dark Lord, using us to his advantage – destroying you in the process."
"Wait," Harry interjected, finally getting his word in, "You sound like you're willing to let this whole 'initiation' go through. Draco, we can do something about this. Dumbledore could help or-"
"Of course I'm not willing but I have no other choice," Draco said loudly as he stood, offended by the fact that Harry may have thought he had chosen this path, "As brilliant as he his, Dumbledore can't help this time. I have to do this or he's going to kill my parents, Harry. Now don't interrupt again."
However, Harry didn't look too willing to withhold from the conversation, his mouth already open to argue with Draco. Sighing deeply, Draco cast a silencing charm on the Gryffindor boy. He hadn't really wanted to do things quite like this but Harry's arguing with quite counterproductive.
Harry attempted to claim that Dumbledore would find a way around this, but he found that no sound came out when he tried to speak. He tried to speak again, but with the same noiseless result. Realising what had happened, Harry frowned. He hadn't even noticed Draco reach for his wand, the sneaky bugger, let alone mutter the incantation. Harry searched his brain for the counter-curse to this spell, knowing that it was one he had learnt not so long ago. He refused to be treated like this.
"Now, Harry, shall I continue?" Draco asked, although it wasn't a real question. He would continue regardless. "I have come to learn of the fact that the Dark Lord is an expert legilimens. He would be able to see right through me Harry, read my mind, and learn of your secrets."
Draco moved closer to Harry, as if trying to reinforce his words with his proximity.
"I have no doubt that you will win the upcoming war, Harry. I know it is something you can do," Draco whispered, a hoarse passion taking over his voice, "but I can't be a disadvantage to you and the war effort. If I go waltzing up to Lord V-Voldemort, head full of memories of you; he's going to shift through all of them until he finds something of use to him. Something that could potentially result in your death, Harry. I can't let that happen."
Harry didn't really see where Draco was going with this. Surely this was all the more reason to talk to Dumbledore, to prevent Draco from ever having to go anywhere near Lord Voldemort in the first place. Harry was still struggling to remember the counter-curse to the silencing charm, feeling more helpless than ever.
"So I have come up with a rather clever plan," Draco said, the beginnings of a cocky grin flittering over his face before it turned sad and watery, "I'm sure you are familiar with the Memory Charm? Lockhart was quite fond of them, if you can remember back to him."
Panic took over Harry now. He didn't like the direction this one sided conversation was going in at all. He definitely needed to get his voice back now so he could stop this nonsense before Draco did something stupid. He tried to calm his nerves; this wasn't going to help him remember that spell.
"Blaise and I have been practising it on a few Hufflepuff first years, refining our talent," Harry's head snapped up at this, glaring disapprovingly at Draco, "Oh, don't give me that look, Harry, we only altered their memory slightly, over the most useless things really, but it means that we can be quite precise with the spell now."
Noticing Draco's hand itching towards his wand, Harry was overwhelmed with emotion again. He could barely believe what he was hearing, still wishing that he didn't understand Draco's words even though he comprehended the direction they were heading in entirely.
"After I leave here tonight, Blaise is going to remove every memory I have of us being together as a couple. I'll still remember the things from before then. It'd look suspicious for me to have no recollection of the Boy Who Lived entirely, to not know who you are at all," Draco continued sadly.
Harry finally remembered the spell he was looking for, non-verbally (obviously) removing the charm that was stopping his speech. At first, Harry found it difficult to speak again but he re-mastered the quick in no time at all.
"Draco," he sobbed quietly, only just realising the wetness on his face. He still couldn't understand why they couldn't just let Dumbledore sort everything out. He attempted to say more but his voice was cut off again, not by a charm this time, but the thickness of tears in his throat.
"But I can't leave you with memories of me, Harry. That just won't do. I know you, Harry. If, somehow, he catches wind that we were romantically involved, he'll put me into a trap, or even pretend to, and you'd come running to my rescue, regardless of the danger it might put you in," Draco chuckled humourlessly, "My little Gryffindor hero."
Harry looked up at Draco through his tears, for a moment he considered denying the words, but he knew they were true. Besides, he didn't even have time to say anything before Draco moved their 'conversation' along.
"It leaves me with no choice but to remove your memory too, Harry."
Harry knew these words were coming, he really did, but that hadn't really prepared him for the weight of the sentence when it finally fell upon his ears.
"But I love you," Harry uttered lowly, his voice breaking under the strain of his tears.
"I know, Harry," Draco sighed, sitting next to Harry on the couch, tears welling up in his own eyes, "and I love you too, I really do."
With those words, Draco moved in towards Harry, placing his lips softly against Harry's own. The kiss was short, incredibly so, but Harry knew this was right; this was where he was supposed to be. He only needed to convince Draco of this, to convince him that they were strong enough to struggle through this together.
But for Draco, the kiss only tasted of goodbyes.
"Obliviate."
For a horrible, split second, Draco caught a glimpse of recognition on Harry's face. He saw the emotions of pain, hurt and betrayal play over his face before it went blank, his eyes lost in an unseeing haze.
The room changed around them, refitting itself to the needs of the people inside. A double bed appeared, just as the Gryffindor was succumbing to sleep.
"You've got it wrong, this time," Draco said to the room, "Only one will be sleeping in that bed."
Draco gently lowered Harry onto the bed, grunting only slightly under his weight. Harry was quite a slight boy really, quite short for his age and not particularly strong. Anyone else might wonder how this boy could win a war against the darkest forces on the planet, but Draco was certain he'd be victorious in the end.
Tucking Harry into the bed, Draco placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, stealing one last look before walking out of the room.
Draco walked to the Slytherin common room, each step further away from the Room of Requirement feeling heavier and more difficult than the last, but there was no going back now. Harry wouldn't remember him at all, hardly.
As he entered his dormitory, he caught sight of Blaise sitting on his own bed, having been waiting up to perform the task. Draco only noticed he was crying when Blaise's gaze settle on his face, his eyebrow quirking. Hardly embarrassed by his display of emotion, Draco removed the tears from his face with his sleeve.
"Let's get this over with," Draco muttered quietly.
Blaise nodded sadly, not really wanting to be a part of this, before raising his wand and casting the charm.
Morning fell on Hogwarts, the thick white stream of winter's sun falling on to the bed through windows which seemed to have materialised overnight. Harry stirred under the intensity of the beam, waking up groggily. As he sat upright, still squinting to block out the sudden sunlight, a nagging pain in his head made itself known, the headache growing in strength by the second. Sighing, he slumped back down in the bed.
It wasn't until then that he realised he was lying in a double bed, the sheets of which cream and mahogany in colour. He quickly deduced that he wasn't in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, so where was he? Through the searing pain in his head, he decided he must be in the Room of Requirement as he could think of no other room in Hogwarts that would possibly look like this. He could vaguely remember coming here last night, but the reason for doing so escaped him entirely.
As the room was so quiet, Harry was able to hear the sudden surge of students in the hallway outside of the Room of Requirement. For a moment he was slightly confused as to why the ruckus was occurring before remembering that this morning the majority of the student body would be leaving to go home for Christmas. It must be quite early if they hadn't left already, so Harry allowed himself to settle back into the bed a little more. After all, it wasn't like he had classes to get to.
Listening to the crowd dying out beyond the walls, he tried to figure out why he was here of all places, with a very limited account of the night before. The more he tried to think about it, the more his head hurt, though, so he gave up with a sigh.
Gathering up the energy to remove himself from the bed, Harry swung his legs over the edge and padded towards the door. He stumbled only slightly, legs still half-asleep, but snuck out into the corridor. There were only a few students left roaming the halls, but the few that remained snickered slightly at Harry's bed-rumpled state before just moving on.
Harry gradually made his way to the Gryffindor common room, taking the journey slowly as his head was still thumping. He battled against the students heading towards the Great Hall for breakfast to get inside the common room. As soon as he stepped into the red and gold haven he was attacked by Hermione.
"Where were you last night Harry? I know you were supposed to meet Draco at seven, but what happened after? Ron and I were worried sick!" Hermione's words came out quickly, and in his slightly woozy state they mainly entered his brain as an unintelligible mush of sounds. Harry ignored what she was saying in favour of asking his own questions.
"What are you doing here, Hermione? Shouldn't you be on the train back home to your parents by now?" Harry questioned, proud that his words only slurred slightly. He realised he was swaying slightly, so he sat down upon the armchair closest to the already roaring fireplace.
"I told you I am staying here for Christmas just the other day, Harry!" Hermione said, standing with her hand on her hip and sounding completely exasperated.
Harry looked around for Ron to back him up, not being able to recall this at all. Unable to spot the fiery haired boy, he concluded that he must have already left for breakfast. Great, he'd have to deal with Hermione by himself.
"I must have forgotten," Harry muttered, leaning his head back against the armchair, kind of wishing for this conversation to be over so he could go back to sleep. Hermione just agitatedly nodded in response, not wishing to make much more of the topic.
"So what did Draco want anyway?" Hermione demanded to know, sitting down primly on the opposite chair.
Harry's head snapped up at her, confused.
"Sorry?" He questioned.
"I said: what did Draco want?" Hermione repeated with an undertone of impatience, knowing that Harry must have heard her perfectly the first time.
"Who's Draco?"
-DMxHP-
Finite Incantatem
A/N: Heheh, yeah. Love me? No? Ohkey. How about dropping a review, though. That would be nice.
I'll try to write again soon. ~ LOVE ROSALYNN.