Title: Out of One's Mind
Rating: probably R - maybe NC-17
Paring: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Well, none I think. m/m, duh
Disclaimer: I don't own them, J.K Rowling do.
Beta: the amazing jemalfoy!
Summary: The war is over. Or at least, almost. Voldemort is dead, but one horrocrux can change that. The ministry believes that Draco Malfoy might know where it is being kept. But unfortunately... Draco Malfoy has no memories.
Harry Potter is given the task of restoring the young Malfoy's memories. Though, Harry is not happy with the arrangements.
Out of One's Mind
Prologue.
"It's over… I can't believe it's over."
Just outside the gates of Hogwarts, a place that was so much more than a school, one boy – man – closed his emerald eyes and held his breath.
Because by closing his eyes he didn't have to see the dead bodies and if he didn't breathe he couldn't smell the burnt flesh that he knew would haunt him forever.
The grip on his wand loosened and it fell to the black ground.
Because if he just stood where he was, not listening to the screams, not smelling the death, not seeing the mass grave before him, then maybe… maybe he could pretend that there was peace.
---
He knew that he couldn't just stand there. He should check for survivors, preventing more death.
His instinct told him to open his eyes, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody's voice roared inside him.
Harry opened his eyes, sucked in a shallow breath, and was from all angels assaulted by death. But he didn't falter. He was used to it after all.
Letting out a humourless chuckle, the Boy Who Lived started to make his way through the scattered bodies lying on the black grass, forcing himself to ignore it when he accidentally stepped on something soft.
He stumbled; his wounded leg couldn't find his balance again, so he fell.
Bracing his fall with his hands, he never came in full contact with the ground even though the sharp pain that shot up his arms made him doubt it was better.
Taking a deep breath, he started to rise again, casting a quick glance at the still body before him. He stopped. Seamus.
His sandy hair was full of dirt, making it almost grey and his blue eyes gazed at the sky. Lifeless.
Giving a pained moan, Harry closed his friend's eyes before struggling to stand once again. He continued to walk, ignoring his injured leg.
"Harry!"
His head snapped up and turned to the direction of the voice. "Ron!"
Red hair. His friend was sitting on the ground, cradling a body to his chest, with brown curly hair. Harry ran, leg forgotten.
In his haste to reach the two people that had come to mean the world to him, Harry once again stumbled over a body. Though this time he managed to find his balance before he fell and he kept running, not even glancing at the fallen white-blond haired boy.
"Harry!" Ron's panicked voice rang out a second time. "You have to get help! She's barely breathing!"
Falling to his knees in front of the read head, Harry gulped in some air. "Where's…wand?"
Ron moved his agonised gaze from his fiancé, "What?"
"Your wand! Send up red sparks!"
Quickly locating his wand in his robes Ron sent up the red sparks of hope, looking crushed because he hadn't thought of it earlier.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry moved closer to his friends, one hand touching Hermione's pale cheek.
And at the sound of the aurors apparating, Harry put a hand on his sobbing friend's shoulder, "It'll be alright now," he choked, "everything will be alright now."