Author: Kao Rei
Beta reader: Rurouni
Translator: Aldaris aka me
Pairing: Harry/Draco from Harry Potter and they don't belong to me.
Genre: slash fic| Post-war| Pink |Romance | Hurt/Comfort. | Non-AU (except the sequel "19 years later")
Rating: M
Status: Completed
Note from the author: Many thanks to Rurouni, my soulmate for having written "Still" so that this long fic could become its sequel.
Actually, I had wanted to write a gentle story about everything that a post-war fic should have. Anyway, write just for fun XD Feedback plz!
Summary:
/Him. Harry Potter, the Ex-Savior. For a reason-that-cannot-be-named, had brought a mind-damaged Slytherin home and taken care of him for four long years, just to receive a straight blow to his jaw when said Slytherin woke up.
And him. Draco Malfoy, Ex-Death Eater. For a reason-that-cannot-be-recalled, had Obliviated himself, currently living in a Gryffindor's house and coming to realize The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Lived-And-Lived had a new peculiar hobby of staring lovingly and smiling dazzlingly at him.
"Potter, either take me to have a damn 'brain surgery' and then to a luxurious restaurant with roses and an eighteen-dish menu, or just put the apron on, scurry to the kitchen and cook me that horrible soup of yours. Hurry up and choose."
And the green-eyed man gently smiles before suddenly bending down to give Draco a quick kiss on his nose, his face literally shining with unhidden joy.
Draco silently lets the other intertwine all ten of their fingers, a small smile blossoming on his lips./
Back to tomorrow.
By Kao Rei.
"To me, whether I love or hate that person, I still have to care, to follow and remember each and every image of him in order to love or hate. And then one day, I realize my heart must always have a special place for that person. That's why the opposite of Love isn't Hate.
It's Oblivion.
That's why the most terrifying thing isn't that he hates me, but that he has already forgotten who I am."
.
.
.
[I pray for their happiness.]
.
.
.
Chapter 1.
[Autumn leaves]
Draco wakes up in a tidy, small room with green curtains gently fluttering in the early morning wind. Little drops of sunshine fall on the white pillows and bed sheets, silent without a sound.
When his eyes have become accustomed to the light, Draco realizes he isn't alone. Sitting by his bedside is a man about twenty years old with disheveled midnight hair, asleep with his chin on his elbow. Draco very clearly remembers that face, one that is no longer childlike but has grown more mature and strong with time, thin locks of hair falling on his forehead and the old lightning bolt scar.
He squirms on the bed, waking the other man up in the process. Sleepiness dims the brightness in those brilliant green eyes, their sharpness still hard to hide without the usual glasses. The man smiles and, very naturally, brings his hand up to tuck Draco's blond bangs on his ears. Startled by the action, Draco violently pushes the intruding hand away.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Harry Potter blinks, bewildered, and then having seemingly recalled something, smiles awkwardly and retreats his hand, messing up his already disheveled hair.
"Sorry, I forgot."
Draco looks at Harry oddly. He doesn't know why he is here and why Harry Potter is in the same room as him – a room that looks very much like their room.
"What the bloody hell? Why am I here with… with you, Scarhead?"
Harry gives him an intense, complicated stare, which unnerves the young Malfoy slightly. Finally, he sighs. "You don't remember anything from yesterday?"
Yesterday? Sounds more like a whole century has passed.
He straightens his posture on the bed and calmly tries to remember. Yesterday… It has truly been so long, as though he has lived in a white room without doors for years. But why do merely a few hours feel like years? Draco unconsciously shrinks, desperately looking for the last thing he experienced inside his memory.
Maybe that day, after his parents' funeral…? His heart suddenly constricts when he remembers the most important thing – they are already gone, really gone.
Yes, it was after the funeral, and then a dark room in the manor, where he had shriveled in a corner three days ago – or many years ago. The wizard radio was cheerfully broadcasting some news, it seemed. Draco didn't care. Unstoppable hopelessness filling his weak lungs, the silvery blond man slowly brought up his wand, and…
...Obliviate?
Draco blinks slightly. That's it; he has erased his own memory and slipped into unconsciousness. The Malfoy heir has chosen to forget, forget everything, including the reason for the despair so deep that he had wanted something even more painful than death. It mustn't have been his parents' passing only; there must have been many more essential factors…
And one of those essential factors is…
"Then why can I still remember these puny little things? Even your bloody face?"
Harry sighs and patiently tells him everything. Ron's injuries led him to St. Mungo. The accidental meeting on the hall of the Janus Thickey Ward. A mindless Malfoy on a wheelchair. The guardianship rights brought home with Harry Potter…
However, he has tactfully excluded many important events, such as what they had been doing while Draco still hadn't recovered, or why Harry had taken the other man home.
"I can't believe that you let me live after I hexed you in the face right after I woke up, er, after being mentally attacked by…something. And what the fuck was that something anyway? And why are you being so bloody vague?"
"You don't need to know that. In short, you regained your consciousness yesterday, and then fainted again until now."
Harry has said something more about how he managed to cure the black acne Draco had jinxed him with in his confusion. But Draco doesn't care; what exactly confuses him is why the man who has always hated him with a passion could have brought a mentally ill Draco home and taken care of him for four years. Why does Potter look like he is trying to hide something extremely important?
Hating with a passion?
Draco stops thinking.
He really doesn't know why he hates Harry so much.
To be more exact, he really doesn't remember.
Looking at the other man's retreating back, Draco is bewildered with himself.
That's right, Draco Malfoy cannot remember why he hates Harry Potter.
Which is explained twenty four hours later, when Harry takes him to St. Mungo for a re-examination. The old Healer stares at Draco, deep in thought, and tells them that there indeed are certain cases that have regained their memory after being Obliviated, but it is incredibly rare and miraculous.
"Mr. Malfoy's memory, however, hasn't fully come back yet; I mean, he has recalled basic facts such as his identity, his old acquaintances, or basic knowledge of the world in general. To make it more easily to understand, he has taken back his consciousness, but hasn't regained his memories. Those memories either can or cannot go back to him as time passes by. The human mind is naturally complicated and unpredictable."
The Healer's long and boring lecture ends in both participants' solemn. One is contemplating his unexpectedly poor magical ability, having failed to perfectly perform even a simple Obliviate spell. The other, currently standing behind Draco's chair, sighs in relief because the blond doesn't remember anything from the time he was still mindless – he means, everything that Harry did to him. Because it seems Draco Malfoy has now returned to his old personality, which means he has fallen back to hating Harry's guts.
Actually, he sighs, it isn't anything worth celebrating.
Because Harry's feelings for him have changed, while the other still remains in his seventeen-year-old self.
Harry, for the nth time in his life, sees a future hazier than ever.
It even becomes hazier than that when the old Healer warns them that getting the memories back isn't necessarily a good thing. Like a sheet being erased and redrawn on too many times, Draco's mind may have to face many complications, which will more or less affect his health.
But when the blond man looks up and meets his eyes with his own shining grey orbs and says, "Let's just go home", Harry realizes he has now been ready to walk that hazy road.
Because at least, between the old and the new memories, between consciousness and mindlessness, between remembrance and oblivion, perhaps this man would still give him a few rays of hope.
The next few days in Harry Potter's small apartment stun Draco like never before.
First, despite Harry's best effort to conceal the truth, they really do not have separate rooms. At first, Draco thought the git had left him in the living room or the kitchen's corner, but apparently the Ex-Golden Boy still plays nice to other people – especially to a patient.
And because he has now risen from unconsciousness, a royal wizard of the Malfoy clan – thankfully, Draco remembers this most clearly – would never ever share a room with an unorganized Scarhead.
"I'm going back to Malfoy Manor." – He announces straight away, reaches for a coat and walks out the door.
"Malfoy Manor has already been sealed shut. After you had been admitted to St. Mungo, the Ministry thought the place too dangerous without anyone in charge. You are permitted to go back there only when you have a health confirmation from your legal guardian. That means me."
"Which bloody part of me is unstable?"
"Your health."
"Do you see I'm damaged anywhere?"
"Your head."
"Sorry darling, I don't have a freaky scar on my head, unlike somebody."
"My bad, your brain."
"I still think I'm more intelligent than a hell lot of people."
"Doesn't mean you're perfectly healthy. Right now, you don't remember who did what to you; you only have certain feelings about them. For example, what do you think of me?"
"A thorn in my eyes."
"Why?"
"Because I hate you."
"Why do you hate me?"
"Because…"
Draco glares at Harry, who glares right back. Potter is right, his brain must be crazy to despise someone but not recall what they ever did together. He knows they used to be schoolmates and in different Houses. He knows Harry Potter's role in the war as a hero. But everything else, such as the memories they shared at Hogwarts, or the reason he had come to hate Potter so badly after the war, Draco cannot remember.
He just knows that the damn man in front of him is a right git. And the memories of said git must also be nothing short of devastating.
Harry silently looks at a grimacing Draco. He comes nearer, takes the coat away from the blond man, carefully straightens the creases and says:
"I will move into the reading room, and you will stay in my bedroom."
"I'm going to replace all furniture in it."
"If you want."
"You are not to step into my room."
"Without your permission." Harry includes.
"I want a new wand, too."
"When your magic stabilizes, I will take you to buy one."
"And clothes, and books. I want updates on the wizarding world."
"We will go to Diagon Alley, eventually."
"And don't you let me see any Muggle around here just because your house is in the middle of their bloody city."
"Fine, you are not allowed to go out anyway."
Draco angrily shoves Harry on the chest. "Why the bloody hell do you have to approve of all that? Potter, do you really want me here so badly?"
Harry turns his back on Draco, hangs the coat on the hanger and lowers his voice. "I can't have you roaming out there all alone. It's dangerous for you as well as for other people."
Draco smirks, drawling. "Oh, I forgot. You are the Savior, aren't you? When have you ever stopped worrying about mankind?"
Harry doesn't say anything else. He walks into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Before his broad back completely disappears behind the cream-color wall, he mutters:
"Whatever you think, but the first clause is always the more important one."
At that moment, Draco Malfoy is truly petrified.
And so, due to Harry's incredibly confusing compromise, they start re-furnishing the room not long after.
Draco soon realizes that there is nothing red in the Gryffindor's house, with the exception of small things like the scissors' handles or shoe ties. A long time from now, he will eventually find out it's because the Healer had told Harry about how easily an unstable mind can be affected, and hot tones of colors shouldn't be used in the house.
Draco has to admit, he is a little moved by Harry's thoughtfulness.
The next surprise in many surprises is that the room-that-used-to-be-theirs actually does not need much alteration.
That is when Harry, with his sleeves rolled up high, preparing to rearrange the room, is about to take the green curtains off. The blond then runs immediately to Harry and wails "Leave them there".
Harry stares stupidly at the man who remains the same after four years, now shorter and thinner than him. "But you said…"
"I like them, let them stay."
Draco didn't know the bastard Potter could smile so beautifully. That relieved smile, next to the windows filled with early morning sunlight with green curtains gently flowing...
Draco also realizes that although the room clearly used to be meant for two, there is a lot of green – the color those Gryffindors never fancy. Aside from the double bed, two pillows and a large cream-white blanket, the closet, the nightstand, even the lights, etc., all bear some sort of green on them. The sentence "Leave it there" gradually grows in number; everything simply feels too familiar to let go.
Furthermore, the image of the dark-haired man spreading the bed sheet, folding the blanket neatly and putting it on the bed makes Draco feel more familiar than anything else.
It's like he has seen this exact image for hundreds of times before, also on this chair, watching that man tidying up the room. Watching the sunlight reflected on those glasses and feeling – something akin to pure happiness in Draco's mind.
And when said man turns around, wipes off the sweats and looks at him, Draco knows it isn't just an image.
It is a memory.
(TBC)
A/N: "Autumn leaves" by Ed Sheera - review by Tom Felton XD
