This is a belated birthday present to myself. Thank you to Lady Lilac, AB, and Ilovegnomes for the birthday fics you wrote me - I'm honestly quite flattered. Please R&R and enjoy!
Rated T for wizards swearing like sailors and adorable m/m slash. This is not a lemon or lime. Not even close.
~Elsie
Ginerva Weasley was roaming the corridor in search of her lost favourite quill. She needed to find it soon, before the Prefects scurried about, trying to catch students out just after curfew. Most everyone had cleared out to their respective houses by now, irritating the youngest Weasley. There was no one around to help her search for the quill, yet she could swear under veritaserum it was tucked into her robes a moment earlier.
Eyes scanning the floor for her sparkling blue feather, Ginny felt something gently graze her back. She turned to the side and picked up the object: a poster showing a rather handsome young quidditch player. He smiled up at her, waving from his professional quidditch training arena and she shook her head, happily pinning the poster back up on the wall. Luckily, the teachers were more lenient about students hanging posters, to get some cheer back into the atmosphere and keep students' minds off of Voldemort and the war.
The quidditch poster reminded Ginny of Harry, who had been moping and acting very strange of late. She was sure it wasn't due to their breakup because he had earnestly congratulated her on her new relationship with Neville. Ron mentioned he was having horrifying nightmares and visions; it wasn't healthy and he and Hermione were starting to worry. At first, Ginny chalked Harry's behavior up to the stress of the war – that was, until she saw Harry in front of a poster, holding her quill.
The young man on the poster Harry was oogling – yes, oogling; Ginny noted that it was the same look she had for Neville – was quite handsome. He had dirty blonde hair and bright eyes that winked down at Harry. The Chosen One was deaf to Ginny's footsteps. Ginny definitely liked what she saw. She thought for a moment, then gave a wicked grin. Her new plan would be the answer to making Harry feel better and solving her own curiosity.
"It seems you've stolen my quill, Harry," Ginny said softly.
Instantly, Harry snapped out of his lust-filled daze and fixed a pair of wide, green eyes on her face. "Erm, G-Ginny – hullo," he stammered, his body tense, "Favourite quidditch player. Appleby Arrows. I, uh…"
"I can see that. You know, Harry, it's rude to take other people's belongings without asking their permission first."
"What? Oh, s-sorry. I just, erm, found it – you must've dropped–"
Ginny's cluck of disapproval interrupted him. "I'll have to get even with you for this. Just think of what it would do to your image if this theft was leaked?" She gave the confused raven a huge, mischievous grin. I should have been in Slytherin, it's that good! "You really ought to visit Madam Pomfrey and see if she has found a cure for kleptomania." She reached out to snatch the quill from her friend's hand. A bright flash of light hit an unsuspecting Harry square on the nose before he could even think to defend himself.
"See you in the morning, Harry," Ginny chuckled, grinning as she skipped off, her favourite quill in hand.
He woke up in a familiar place, bright light in his blurry vision, the smell of hospital wing sheets hitting his nose. The young man, who felt very small, sat up. He didn't know why his vision was so blurry. Slowly, the feeling of something gone terribly amiss clenched his stomach.
Hogwarts – he knew all the places he had ever been. Healing spells – he knew how to do all the magic he had learned.
But he had no idea who he was.
"What..." he croaked out, voice cracked from the long period of disuse "…is my name?" He let out a small noise of uncertainty and rubbed his stomach, hoping this strange feeling pass into remembrance.
"Harry!" The blurry form of a girl came rushing toward him, but he didn't recognize her voice. "Oh, Harry…"
The young man squinted hard and looked around. There didn't seem to be any other patients around. Was "Harry" his name? The sound wasn't familiar to him, not like "Hogwarts" or "the hospital wing." He had to try very hard not to freak out hysterically.
"Can't see," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. The girl was shoving something into his face, it seemed.
"Hold still, Harry!"
He was wearing a pair of battered-looking glasses and calmed down considerably, no longer frightened of attack. Considering the girl, he noticed her self-aware, intelligent demeanor and her bushy hair. She looked nervous, tugging on the sleeve of a red-haired boy, who had just sat down beside her. His face was splotched the color of his hair in anxiety; "Harry" couldn't help but laugh.
"You look funny," he blurted out, chuckling. Simply being around the pair made the uneasiness in his stomach ease up a little.
Ron's ears turned red, but he rolled his eyes. "Sorry for being worried about you," he muttered.
"Why would you?" The raven-haired boy's brow furrowed in confusion. Did he know this boy? "Do I–"
"Don't be a prat," Hermione said somewhat indignantly. "Harry" noted that she seemed… sad around him, and that she couldn't bear to be mad at him either. Could they be close? Was she his sister? At the lack of response, she sighed and brushed aside her hair. "Neville brought you to the hospital wing when Ginny told him she saw someone hex you. Are you even listening to me, Harry James Potter! Spells that knock you out usually have very bad side-effects. Thank Merlin you're alright – we thought something bad happened. And after all you've been through…"
"Oh, erm, thanks for your concern, then…" He looked around, trying to remember with all his might who these people were.
"Harry?"
"Harry?"
"HARRY!" A hand waved in front of his face so that he snapped backward sharply, hitting his head on the bedpost.
"Ouch!" Rubbing the back of his head, he asked, "what's a 'harry'?"
"Very funny," Hermione snorted. "Well, I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey and see when she'll be letting you leave."
He considered his name. Harry. He didn't mind it.
"Wait! Who's Madam Pomfrey?" he called to the bushy-haired girl, who glared back over her shoulder slightly.
"Cut it out, mate – it isn't funny. We're still best friends, you know." He patted Harry's shoulder, then looked away. "I know Hermione and I have been spending more time together – you know, with our – realationship…" The redhead's freckled cheeks turned pink, mind wandering, to Harry's amusement. "… But we worry 'bout you."
Harry decided he wanted to get to know this boy; he seemed likable. "So… what's your name? I think that girl mentioned it before, but I don't remember. Sorry, but I–"
"Oh, shut it," Ron growled playfully, shoving Harry's side. Upon seeing the brunette's startled look, he decided to play along. Faker. Good thing Gred and Forge taught me how to unveil a faker – he'll slip up. "How about I hit you with a very complicated spell that will prove whether or not you know everything and this act is a big joke." There – now, he'll tell me "yeah right, Ron – you perform advanced charms?" But all Harry did was shrug. Ron bristled with annoyance and pulled out his wand, pointing it straight between Harry's eyes. He's not even giving up when I bluff! "Oh, that's it, Harry – if you want to play it the hard way…" A purple light came from the tip of Ron's wand, then disappeared in a flash.
"Oh no…" Ron's face was the picture of horror, Harry decided. It made him want to laugh. "Mione! Mione, come quick! He's lost his marbles!"
Harry looked down at the redhead's clothed legs, feeling bad for him. "Your knee – does it hurt terribly? I could heal it with a spell."
Ron gave a loud groan before stopping abruptly to stare at his amnesic best mate. "Wait – you know spells… Do you know where we are?"
"Yeah, Hogwarts hospital wing. I remember everything you'd learn in Hogwarts classes, so I'm assuming I go here…?" Just then, Hermione rushed back into the room with a nurse in tow, frantically asking what happened. Harry couldn't concentrate on what the other three people were saying. Their words seemed to be growing more rapid in his ears until they became a jumbled mess. His hands flew to his now-aching head. The redhead had claimed to be his best friend. He must be worrying a lot of people right now… What about his parents, his brothers and sisters, his schoolmates and teachers? Who did he know? What had he done during his life? "What's happening to me?" he whispered. The room was silent for a long moment.
Madam Pomfrey's face was grave as she examined Harry thoroughly. "I don't understand why, but parts of Harry's memories have been stolen." Ron tightened his hand's grip on Hermione, who looked at the floor with her head in her hands.
"Stolen?" Harry peered up at the matron, half curious, half frightened.
"She means there's no way to recover them," Hermione whispered, "unless the person who took those memories willingly gives them back."
Reteaching Harry who he knew was a long and draining process. Ron, Hermione, and Headmistress McGonagall did not have the heart to tell Harry too many negative aspects of his life. They did not speak about the war, as Hermione was sure they would find the culprit and retrieve Harry's memories soon enough. According to Madam Pomfrey, the process of regaining one's memories – especially ones like Harry's – was a very painful and mentally draining process.
"I think it unwise to load all those memories on Harry as soon as they are recovered. He'll be in a fragile state; he may even have to go to St. Mungo's for treatment if they cause enough backlash trauma." he heard Madam Pomfrey say to McGonagall while he feigned sleep.
"The boy hasn't looked this happy in months, Poppy… I don't know that we should give him the memories back at all."
Even with his eyes closed, Harry could visualize Madam Pomfrey's shocked look; he had been trying his hardest to memorize every detail of the people he was reacquainting with. "Are you saying – that we leave Potter's memories in the hands of a student!"
"We will find those memories. Perhaps, once we do have them, Harry will have a good idea whether or not he wants them back."
Sitting up in his bed, now alone, Harry thought he wasn't sure if he wanted his memories back. Though he did not remember them, Ron said he had frequent nightmares before then. For the last three nights in the hospital wing, he had slept peacefully. He went to be with the thoughts an innocent child should have: finally starting classes the following day, making new friends in his house and other houses, what he would wear on his "first" day. Maybe I could even find someone to invite for the next Hogsmeade weekend Hermione mentioned… He really liked Ron and Hermione, but they were a bit absorbed in their snogging once they stopped fussing too much over Harry's memory problems. I don't think they'd mind some alone time, and apparently Ron says I'm well-known enough to get a date!
Four days after arriving in the hospital wing and several parchment rolls of information on people later, Harry woke up and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. People all around whispered when he stepped in the room, others smiling happily or sympathetically in his direction. Seeing all these people stare made Harry's face go pink, to the girls' (and some boys') delight.
When their daily schedules arrived, Harry cried out, "we have double potions first thing!" He hadn't realized he had raised slightly from his sitting position and that now everyone was looking at him. "We have it with… Slytherin – now I get to meet even more new people!" Ron gruffly pulled Harry back into his seat and the latter young man's face turned bright red. They sat in silence, other than the sounds of chewing bacon and eggs.
Professor Slughorn quietly welcomed Harry back to class and gave him a quick name run-through for the Slytherins in his class. Most weren't really paying attention, absorbed in their own gossip. Harry tried very hard to listen, but his eyes suddenly stopped on a peculiar looking young man sitting in the front of the room.
Green eyes took in every detail with relish – the angular facial features, the lightly toned, for-sure-quidditch-playing body, that delicious-looking alabaster skin… It was all Harry could do not to clam up and run out of the room, his face heating up even more than it had at breakfast.
"Now, you will be sitting with a different potions partner every day to get used to your fellow classmates. Let's start up front shall we? Draco – your new potions partner for the day, lad." He directed Blaise Zambini to work with Neville, who Harry remembered from Ron had been former partner.
"Is it true?" Malfoy drawled, taking his time to look Harry up and down and smirk at him. Harry wished a huge crack would open up in the floor and swallowed him up, with how flushed he felt. "Potter's lost his mind? Given in to stress and become a cowardly lion, eh?"
"Come now, Draco," Slughorn chuckled half-heartedly. "Be a good sport and lend a helping hand to Harry. He doesn't remember anything about you. You might want to take advantage of that." His tone had changed to snappish at the end and when he turned his back, Draco scowled at him.
"Senile old coot," Draco muttered, glaring momentarily at Harry before his eyes became less narrow. Why is Potter redder than his Gryffindork tie? He watched for a moment as Harry tried his best, in vain, not to sneak glances at him as he made the day's simple draft. The raven's face burned hotter every second. Oh, Draco thought, this is going to be good. He spoke to Harry as civilly as possible during the whole class, earning questions from his Slytherin friends. It was all in part of a wonderfully horrible plan.
At the end of class, when everyone had left, Draco and Harry were slowly packing up, Harry distracted by talking to Draco. "Oh, here's your flask," Harry added, levitating the glass object into Draco's expensive leather schoolbag. Draco then gave Harry a wide grin. It made Harry's heart pound fast, butterflies tickling the inside of his stomach. Harry swallowed thickly when he saw a spark of mischief in the Slytherin's bright grey eyes.
"What are you on about?" Blaise hissed once Harry was out of earshot. "You couldn't have been more Gryffindor-like to him if you wanted to!"
Draco smirked at his friend, glancing over his shoulder at blushing Potter who stood waiting in the other end of the hallway. "Now that he doesn't remember anyone, we can turn him over to our side before Granger and the Weasel get to him too much. Don't you see?"
Blaise heaved a sigh. "What does it matter? You're both enemies – do you honestly think it will help your social standing or your image by winning Potty over?"
"Shove off, Zambini," the blonde growled, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "We both stand plenty to gain by Harry Potter's – civil acquaintanceship."
The corners of Blaise's mouth turned up slightly at this. "I like how you think sometimes, Draco – And others…" He cocked his head to one side, observing the deep-in-thought Draco. "…you confuse me to no end."
Of course I confuse you to no end,idiot, Draco murmured silently, I confuse myself to no end, but I can't have that spreading around to anybody. What really conflicted Draco was that he genuinely hadn't minded speaking to Harry Potter in polite conversation. He couldn't tell that to Blaise without feeling guilty and stupid, so who could he honestly trust? Perhaps it's high time I start visiting good old Myrtle again… Draco softly sighed, then joined Blaise to walk to their next class, sneaking one last glance at Harry. Hopefully his plan would work. It's just that he didn't know exactly how he wanted to end up.
Ron and Hermione caught up to Harry on his way outside for class with Hagrid and blasted him with a volley of questions about "Malfoy's" behavior.
"Who's Malfoy?"
"He's a a bigot and a big fat coward," Ron said, his voice filled with unhidden malice. Seeing Harry's alarmed face made him tone it down a bit. "Er, your new potions partner, mate.
"You mean the sweet blonde? But he was sort of nice to me – a little sharp on the wit, but other than that–"
"SWEET!" Ron gawked at Harry, face redder than his hair. "What are you thinking! Maybe that memory-stealing spell took more than memories of people – it must've taken your judgment. Malfoy's nothing but a slimy git who hates everybody he thinks are 'lesser' than him. Don't go trusting a dodgy bloke like that. He's–your enemy…"
Harry took this to mean that Draco was Ron's enemy, quietly coughing his disagreement. Ron was too engrossed in beaming at a skipping Hermione. The raven turned away out of respect to give his friends some privacy, looking at his schedule again. He frowned until reading his last class of the day; double astronomy, at midnight, with Slytherin. Smiling, Harry abandoned the happy couple and wandered off to the torture that is History of Magic class.
"Erm, hi…" People were staring at Harry, which made his blush increase. You people really aren't helping, he hissed silently as he gave the onlookers a quick glare. He smiled at Draco, who he was bravely standing next to…
…at the Slytherin table.
"Can I help you, Potter?" Draco looked up at green eyes flirtatiously through dark blonde lashes.
Harry bit his lip. He had gotten to know Draco a little better over two weeks, but still he wasn't sure this would go well… "I, erm, wanted to ask you something."
"Well, don't just stand there like a nitwit," Draco deadpanned. "Ask."
"Um, I know we've only known each other for two weeks now, but… I was wondering if you'd like us to get to know each other better…" Harry blushed, his hands behind his back as he shifted awkwardly. "…Er, you know, be friends…"
"Friends, Potter?"
Harry thought, oh, no… There was that grin again, the one he knew meant Draco was plotting. He took a deep breath to muster up all of his courage and…
"I was wondering if you wouldgotoHogsmeadewithm–"
"Potter, I have no idea what the hell you're saying. Stop talking like youre a lunatic whose mouth is tied to a running centaur and spit it out already."
Harry gave a shaky laugh, rubbing his shaking, sweaty palms together. "I was wondering–uh…"
The corners of Draco's lips turned up just the slightest bit so that no one but Harry could tell. A tame Harry all the time would be far too boring. "Prat," he snorted quietly.
Not only did Harry's face burned a deeper shade of scarlet, it managed to rile him up to Draco's liking. "I was wondering," Harry growled, "if you would go to Hogsmeade with me." The Slytherin smirked and was just about to respond when Harry continued, "That wasn't a question, Draco. You're going with me. Two weeks from now. Whether you want to or not."
Now it was Draco's turn to flush, unable to come up with a response.
There, Harry thought smugly. I've made the "Sliver-tongued Prince of Slytherin" as they call him, utterly speechless. But after a few moments, it occurred to our beloved, silly Gryffindor that this may not be the best way to get a date. Once again, he felt like he had upon meeting Draco in potions class, except a million times worse.
"I – I – Draco, I didn't mean to–"
"Oh, where are your manners, Potter?" Draco adjusted his position, having regained his composure. "In high society, we follow through with demands. You had better keep to that if you want to be seen with me in public."
"Is that a yes?" Harry squeaked out after a long pause.
"Perhaps."
Draco's true smile practically made Harry swoon.
Not far off, at the Gryffindor table, Ginny ignored her staring friends and buttered a biscuit, her lips upturned in a Malfoy-reminiscent smirk.
Draco could not believe he had forgotten about Valentine's Day. It wasn't that he had a girlfriend to buy presents for or anything like that. He just couldn't fathom how he forgot about his giant pile of Valentine's Day offerings from girls of every house and almost every year. The pressure from Narcissa was on, but he had not found one girl that caught his eye. Pansy drove him up the wall yet he noted that she seemed more civilized around Blaise. Good – let him deal with her. Then there was Daphne Greengrass, but she came off as too surly even for Draco. Even he wasn't that unpleasant all the time. Not that I'm going all Gryffindor or anything, he reassured himself, sipping rare berry tea from home in the kitchen. It was early on Valentine's Day morning and he had already received loads of presents from early-rising girls determined to capture his attention. He had to give the very first one props; to get up at four-thirty, now that was true dedication. Even if, in her case, it was a lost cause.
"Hullo, Twinkle!"
Snapping out of his thoughts, Draco looked up to see Harry Potter taking off his invisibility cloak. He was greeting a small, female house elf who looked up at him in pure adoration.
"Potter!"
Harry stood up straight and stared at the other young man. "Uh, good morning, Draco. How are you? By the way, I still don't get why you call me by my last name."
"Old habit – it won't hard to break," Draco muttered. "H-Har…" But it was hard to break. Calling the Gryffindor by his first name, something he didn't elect to do even to his Slytherin friends, would mean something. It would mean that this plot to win Harry over as a powerful ally would be null and void. It meant Draco would actually have to put at least minimal dedication into their true, honest friendship.
And Draco couldn't recall ever having one of those in his life.
Blaise was, by far, his best friend. But how could Draco trust him? The Zambini was a Slytherin himself who wouldn't be above trading on Malfoy his secrets. Myrtle, the Slytherin could talk to, but she was a ghost; Draco secretly longed for human companionship she could not provide. However, if Potter could be his confidante, he wouldn't have to worry. He had witnessed the raven's utterly Gryffindor loyalty firsthand, so his secrets would definitely be safe. Plus, Potter did not remember his cowardly acts, therefore, he himself would not be judged.
It's settled then, Draco thought. "Alright – Harry."
"Took you long enough," Harry quipped. "Anyway, are you drinking coffee?"
"Does it smell like coffee, you wazzack?"
Harry snorted, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Sor-rry I didn't think to check, Your Highness."
"Damn straight!" The whole kitchen burst out laughing, it's atmosphere suddenly much more comfortable. "So, Harry, have you come to sweep me off my feet? Today's the beginning of this Hogsmeade weekend." He waggled pale eyebrows up at a red-faced Harry and chuckled. "Come now, what's with the constant blushing? Your face looks as read as Weasley's hair whenever we talk." Harry didn't answer. "I was only joking you know. I'd think you knew what jokes were, since you're always hanging out with those Weasley twins."
"Ron has a twin?"
"Right… No, the Weasel doesn't have a twin. He has twin brothers that used to go here and you hung out with their whole clan during the summers." When you should have been hanging out with me, you prat! Draco hid the surprised face he was making at himself with his teacup. Wait! What am I thinking? Next thing I know, I'll be blurting out what I think like a bloody Hufflepuff!
"Hmm," Harry mused, rather uninterested and liking how it made Draco smile. "Well, I do have a demand to follow through with, don't I?" He grinned for a moment, stepping closer to his friend, and whispered, "you do want to go with me?"
"Of course I do, you…" One look at Harry's overjoyed face held Draco's tongue.
"What's the matter? Ran out of insults?"
"Not quite, you smartass bastard!"
"Ouch. And to think I was planning on buying you a present. I guess I ought to just put the galleons back in my room and–"
"Oh, no-no-no," Draco chuckled, "you're not going anywhere until I get my pepper imps."
Harry's mouth animatedly dropped. "What? How – how did you know!"
"I have my ways."
"So you spied on me?" Harry's glare and stance reminded Draco very much of his mother when she was irritated at him. Surprisingly, he liked it.
"No, I made an educated guess. I told you they're my favorite and today is Valentine's Day, the epitome of sugary sweetness. You may be a git at times, but I know you aren't stupid enough to think I like all that mushy, sugar-coated stuff."
"Pepper imps are sweet; they taste like peppermi–"
"They have a nice, bitter edge to them or else they wouldn't make your ears smoke." Draco waved Harry away with his unoccupied hand. "Now go get me some."
During breakfast that morning, Draco received more presents than he could count, as usual.
"Oh, Draco – open mine first!"
"NO! Open mine first! I've known him longer!"
"No way, bitch, he's mine!"
Bloody munters! Can't they give me a break? "Yes, ladies, thank you. I'll open them all Ahem, I'm, thrilled to…"
A sleek, silver box levitated towards him, pushing through the crowd of girls around his table. Stone grey eyes followed it, mystified, until a miniature roll of parchment opened before him. Written in what looked like press-printed cursive was:
I thought you might want to wait until after you had your morning tea to have this. I trust you'll appreciate it.
~An Admirer
Draco had never been more intrigued by a gift. His parents had always sent him lavish things, but nothing with mystery to them. He unraveled the parcel's forest green ribbon and carefully took off the lid, to the surrounding girls' dismay. Inside lay a vintage silver serpent bracelet, designed to coil around its owner's arm in the perfect fit.
At his best friend's side, Blaise gave a small gasp of jealousy. That's a Shahrivar the Great! What a masterpiece. It must be worth at least a hundred galleons." The bracelet was taken from his view by a smirking Draco.
"Yes, and now it's mine," he chuckled. "I simply must find out who bought me this!" There was no magic trace on it. The print was unidentifiable. The only clues he had were that this person was very intelligent, had good taste, and had loads of money. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I got this for myself.
As promised, Draco was dragged off to Hogsmeade by an overly-enthusiastic Gryffindor. They walked through the snow, laughing about the crowds of ridiculous girls and how they just didn't understand the word "privacy."
"First stop, Honeydukes."
"You already gave me my pepper imps." Draco's brow furrowed for a moment. "Of course, you're always welcome to buy me more."
"Oh, you're so gracious," Harry said dryly. "C'mon. I promised to pick up some chocolate frogs for everyone in Gryffindor. Most of them are too busy to stop in today."
"Are you daft? They'll all melt!"
"Are you daft? It's not even ten degrees."
"Which is why we'll be inside, where it's warm, you prat!" He sighed, looking down at snow-covered boots until warm, gloved hand brushed his arm.
"What's wrong?"
Draco blinked hard, unable to understand why he felt a strange pang in his stomach. His voice is like velvet. I wonder if he sounds like that when he wakes up every morning…
The sensible part of Draco's brain screamed, NO! STOP THINKING THAT THIS INSTANT, DRACO MALFOY, OR BE HEXED INTO OBLIVIAN BY FATHER! He made a small whining noise, not unlike an injured puppy, and thought, Great. Now I'm losing it, all because of Harry freaking Potter!
"Draco?"
"Sorry" was the barely conscious or coherent response.
"Since when do you apologize? Are you sure you aren't Ron thinking about Hermione whilst disguised with polyjuice potion?"
"Shove off," Draco snapped. No! Why am I feeling guilty? He silently groaned.
"Aw, but that wouldn't be any fun!" Harry beamed at Draco, who felt he didn't deserve it.
"Old habits really do die hard, don't they?" Another sigh left the Slytherin's pale pink lips Harry had been admiring in wait for an explanation. "We used to fight all the time, you and I. That's why Weasley and Granger don't like you talking to me. They think I'm trying to use you or something."
Harry leaned forward to speak very softly. "Are you trying to use me?"
"Of course not!" Draco shouted, oblivious to the few pedestrians' stares he earned himself. "I mean, you're my friend now, Harry." The unnamed pang in his stomach settled a bit as the statement sunk in. "You – you can trust me now."
"Why did we fight, Draco? I don't remember."
Draco shook his head. "I don't want you to remember that. All I can say is that it wasn't the best time for me. It still isn't. But there's no one else I can trust with my secrets."
They spent the whole day talking to each other over butterbeers at a secluded table the Three Broomsticks. Draco put up charms so no one else could hear and unloaded everything. Everything from the beginning, since he could remember.
Harry was mesmerized by Draco's tale of growing up practically alone in a huge mansion while his mother and father went to parties. He learned of meeting Draco for the first time in Madam Malkin's robes shop and how he had tried to make friends with Harry – except Ron made it first. Harry felt bad for having turned away the possibility of a friendship so quickly.
"Perhaps you were just having a bad day?"
"No… I was being a right arsehole to you."
Maybe I should not have been so quick to judge. "At least we don't have to start over."
Draco leaned back in the booth and considered Harry "What do you mean?"
"If we were never friends, then I'm not relearning any of these things about you, so it won't hurt you like it did to Ron and Hermione. We were the best of friends, so when my memories were taken, I had no idea who they were. With you, it's a clean slate. We can be friends and I can forgive you easily, since I haven't a clue what insults you probably threw at me the day before I lost it."
"But when you remember… you'll hate me!" Draco felt like child, small and alone. Then Harry held his hand and the feeling went away as if the Gryffindor was his patronous against a swarm of dementors.
"Who says I want my memories back?"
Draco's face lit up with a grin few people ever had the chance to see.
Harry Potter and Draco Mafloy had many a weekend ending in curious, private conversations. Curious because most of them had to fill in details about Harry's life that he didn't remember and parts of Draco's life that he had honestly never known. Most of Hogwarts did not know that they became confidantes and very close friends. Draco never admitted to himself that the undeniable chemistry between them was growing rapidly. A gentle touch here and there became natural, their willingness to tell each other anything easy as breathing.
One evening in particular, the very next Hogsmeade weekend in fact, they found themselves in the Three Broomsticks, staring at each other for a very long time. Then, Harry quietly told Draco they should return to the castle for dinner, so they left the tavern together.
"You do realize you're still my prat, don't you?"
"Your prat?" Harry teased, "since when am I your property, Mister Malfoy?"
"You know what I mean! We may be mates, but I can't go around not insulting you. We Malfoys do have a reputation to hold up." Draco waved his hand in a haughty matter and was distracted by the silver shimmer on it. "Oh… It's been weeks. I forgot to thank you for this magnificent gift. Either you've secretively got good taste in jewelry or you know me too well."
"Er, jewelry…?"
"Don't play stupid, Harry. I'm talking about my Valentine's Day gift: the serpent bracelet you gave me. Your secretive method was quite ingenious, almost worthy of a Slytherin, I must say. No magical trace – brilliant! Yet I wonder why you would risk it… Say I told someone you gave it to me, huh?" Draco smirked at his lovely, incredulous Gryffindor, not bothering to wonder when he first started to think of Harry as his. "Such a thing comes off as intimate, if you ask me."
"I haven't bought you any bracelet. I've no clue what you're talking about. No magic trace? Risk? I didn't get you a real Valentine's Day present yet, to be honest."
Glaring at Harry, Draco lifted the sleeve of his favourite cashmere sweater. "If you didn't get me this, who did?"
"I don't know, but it's probably a thousand times better than whatever I pick out for you." The green-eyed boy ran a hand through his raven-feather hair, staring in contempt at the offending object clinging to Draco's wrist.
It's only logical that I feel guilty about his disappointment, Draco told himself. He shoved aside thoughts of how he never felt bad about anyone else. "You know, if this mystery-gift-giver of mine was brave enough, they'd reveal their identity to me."
"I'm telling you," Harry hissed, "I didn't–"
"I believe you. I just told you my life story, remember?" Silver unhooked and fell from the snow-pale wrist into a warm robe pocket. "I'm sure Blaise is already having a bitch-fit because he can't find the perfect gift for Pansy. That should do the trick since she wasn't at breakfast this morning in time to see it."
"You-don't want it?"
Mist-grey eyes locked on a pair of emeralds, creating a small but strong connection neither could sever for one long moment. "It's nice," Draco whispered, "but I grow weary of meaningless trinkets. Too long have they been my birthday and Christmas presents, worth countless galleons, yet nothing that really counts. I'm sure whatever you wanted to get me, even if only in thought, is a thousand times better than a frivolous piece of silver."
"Careful, Draco," Harry chuckled. "If your mob of fangirls finds you acting so poetic and kind to me, they might think you're being way too OC."
Draco blushed, continuing to look into Harry's eyes. "The same thing will happen to you if you keep coming up with decent comebacks for once. To hell with them if they don't like it!"
"You know, I think I've wanted you to say those words since the day we met."
Too drunk on happiness to think, Draco stepped forward and hugged Harry tight. After a short pause of doubt, Harry returned the embrace heartily, not letting go for as long as Draco wished. When they did part, both boys shuffled their feet awkwardly, sneaking glances at one another and laughing.
"You should head up to dinner," Harry said quietly. "I'll meet you later." Before Draco could protest, the raven smiled and held a gentle finger to his lips. "You give me courage. Courage I need to do something very important to me. I'll see you later, Draco." He gave his friend's arm a quick squeeze, then he headed off down the snow-dusted lane.
Draco watched him, still gazing on long after Harry had disappeared.
After all the consideration I've given you this Valentine's Day, Draco, it's very disheartening to see you give away my gift. I have some information that may prove useful to you about your precious, intended beau. I will be waiting atop the Astronomy Tower at midnight morning next. It would be most unwise not to attend.
~Your faithful Admirer
As he read the letter, Draco's face progressed from a frown to a scowl and from a scowl into a barbaric growl of, "what the fuck!" When Blaise refused to believe his friend's insisting it was nothing, he was turned away. Before he could blink, not even the end of Draco's cloak was visible around the corner.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with these women!" Draco shouted at no one. Luckily, he cooled down in time to cast a successful disillusionment charm over himself before Filch patrolled the hallway. The Slytherin, true to his house, snuck past six teachers undetected to reach the Astronomy Tower steps. Near the top he slowed down, both anxious and wary of meeting this "admirer." At last, the conductor of their little game appeared. Draco saw red. "YOU!"
"Of course. Why do you look so surprised? We're not stupid, you know. Top of class."
"If anyone, it had to be that Weasley girl – she's been smirking at me all week like she had a secret. Wait a minute…we, Granger?"
Another voice filled the chilling night air. "So you do have a brain, Malfoy! Or at least half of one."
"Sod off, Weaslette! And why in Merlin's name would you two have me trudge all the way up here? I already have plenty of admirers to worrying about you," he sneered. In his stomach, unease lingered, colder than winter's hail.
"Don't be so mean to him!" Hermione cut in, stepping closer to Draco, who looked like he had just been confounded. She beamed at him. "I'm not really mad at you for hating the bracelet I gave you. Was it too inexpensive? I'll get you something to better suit your taste as soon as I can."
Draco gaped at her. "You've gone mad, haven't you? That's the only explanation. After constantly snogging Weasley and all the times I've called you a mudblo–"
"I know you never meant it, Draco!" Hermione took the blonde's state of shock as the perfect opportunity to hug him. "I forgive you." As an afterthought, she snorted, "Ron's a bloody idiot unworthy of my time and effort. No offense to you, Ginny."
"None taken. And that's not all, Malfoy." Ginny glared at him, secretly amused by his sudden speech incapability. "I've come for your word on something; that you'll keep your paws off my fiancé." She gave him only a short moment to comprehend this before going on. "Today, when we were leaving Hogsmeade, Harry proposed to me by the fountain," she said half-wistfully, "during a very romantic sunset. I've got the ring in my room so I don't lose it – white gold with rubies and…"
Ginny went on with superfluous details of rings, wedding plans, and children. Draco, however, went ice cold with fear. Fear that he had made everything up in his head. Fear that Harry wasn't his and that this redhead bitch could actually steal him away. Worst of all his fears: she could give Harry the family he had always wanted when Draco could not.
"No…" Draco could not hear his own barely audible whisper above the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
"What was that, dear?" Hermione asked silkily.
"Hermione, whatever he's saying doesn't matter unless it's a vow to stay away from Harry. When he's said it, you can have him and do what you want with him. I don't care for details."
"I wish you weren't so adamant about this, Ginny," Hermione sighed. "Besides, once Draco's mine, he'll forget about Harry. It never would've worked anyways. They're both men, not to mention life-long enemies. At least now they'll behave civilly enough with each other to come over for tea now and then, since Harry is still my best friend. Poor bloke's been through enough. I'm so glad you're here to take care of him, Ginny," she said softly, patting Draco's arm and smiling at the other girl.
Draco's mouth had gone dry. You give me courage. Courage I need to do something very important to me… Why didn't Harry tell him? Would it have been even more horrible to break down in front of him instead of these two lunatics? Or could he have won Harry over before it was too late? Only one other important question Draco could think of could be answered accurately right now.
"Granger… Were you there when he proposed?"
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Yes, I was. Why do you ask, Dragon?"
Able to think, Draco shuddered at the endearment he couldn't believe he was hearing, especially from her. "Did he – did Harry look truly happy…?"
"Of course he did! I mean, he was proposing to the woman of his dreams. What else do you expect, with Harry having practically drooled over her since sixth year?"
Draco swallowed thickly and strained his eyes to look straight at Ginny's, their brown laughter immediately ceasing, and straight into her soul. "Make him happy… If he has joy, who am I to take it away from him, with all he's done for me?" He prepared to sink to the floor if he couldn't make it back to the dungeons in time to collapse in tears. The sound of tinkling laughter and a jovial guffaw stopped him dead.
"Congratulations, Malfoy, you pass the test! Of honest intentions and love, that is. You're still a half-wit, falling for our horrid acting skills."
"Speak for yourself, Hermione. I was doing quite a good job, if I don't say so myself. You're the one who came up with the cheesy lines; I was surprised he even believed you. Not that he was paying attention to you. At lease I came up with the supporting details that every love-struck girl prattles on about for their engagement. Neville and I are having our party in a huge, beautiful greenhouse near Longbottom estate."
Hermione chuckled and hugged her friend. "I can't wait to see it! What are you going to wear? I'll bet with that complexion or yours, just about any color will do."
"I was thinking about a deep purple. Pastels do nothing for me. Neville's going with midnight blue robes. For the wedding, I really don't know if I should go for the traditional silver gown or not. What do you think?"
Draco felt like he had just been water boarded for three hours straight, not sure whether or not her was finally being released or dying. His voice came out somewhat raspy from choking down tears. "Explain," was all he could manage to say.
"Right, then. Sorry, Malfoy, we almost forgot you were here. Anyway, Harry has all his memories and–" Another blow to poor Draco's stomach. He must hate me for sure. Then again, I can't trust this psycho munter with all the crap she's been telling me. "–a few days after I knocked him out, I gave them back on the condition that he went along with not remembering people until he could admit his love for you and try to do something about it since he wasn't going to do it on his own." Draco's stare, like a fish out of water's, didn't waver. "How could expect Hermione and I not to test you! After all the times you've hurt him, we had to be positive you really changed, despite what Harry tells us."
Words came slow, stuck inside invisible quicksand as his mind looked desperately to escape. "So... I-need to go-find Harry…"
"Yes, you can go sweep him off his feet now. Except he's probably sleeping," Hermione murmured, patting Draco's shoulder. "Sorry about the creepy love struck act, Malfoy. I would never date you in a thousand years. That's why I was so terrible at acting like this. I knew the surprise would make you over-think it if you really felt lost without Harry. Besides, Ron is the only man for me."
"I say Malfoy's still a half-wit. But, yeah, you passed anyway. Treat him right or I'll hex your balls off, got it?" Draco nodded slowly. "Hermione, be thankful I didn't make you fake kiss him."
That broke Draco out of his trance, met with a twin face of disgust. "I would rather be eaten by the giant squid repetitively for a week than kiss you, Granger."
Hermione heaved a sigh. "You may have passed, but I'll never understand what Harry sees in you. Promise you'll keep him out of trouble, if possible. He is my best friend, the only 'brother' I know."
"I will, if he'll have me."
"Oh please," Ginny snorted. "He's got you right where he wants you. You're blind, I swear."
Draco considered the redhead for a moment. "The bracelet was your idea, not Granger's, wasn't it? The message definitely sounds like you, Weaslette."
"Correct on both accounts. There, now you're only one third-dimwit. Hermione figured out how to send it to you without a trace, though. As lovely as it's been chatting with you up here when I could be in bed, I think we all ought to go get some beauty sleep. Goodbye, Draco. 'night, Hermione."
Hell knows you two need it. Draco rolled his eyes and started off towards the dungeons. He cast a quick concealment charm, then followed the girls back to the Gryffindor common room. Neither of them noticed him slip past and into the boys' dormitory.
Harry lay in bed, his beautiful face luminescent in pale moonlight. His chest moved lightly up and down, heart beating slowly beneath the covers. Draco slipped out of his cloak and crawled as quietly as he could into bed beside Harry, wrapping his arms around the sleeping boy. He kissed the mess of raven hair, each eyelid, the lightning scar on his Harry's forehead. Stroking his love's face, he snuggled closer.
"Remind me to thank Hermione in the morning."
"Of course you're awake," Draco chuckled. "Harry?"
"Yes?"
"You're still my prat."
"I love you too."
So, what'd you think? Go ahead and flame me, I dare you. Your hatred will only fuel the fire next to which Drarry cuddles on a nice, comfty sofa. ^_^