Author's Notes: Sorry for the incredibly long wait. School was incredibly busy and I had absolutely no time to even think of this fic. However, finals are over and I'm intent on posting at least two chapters (this one included) before January 16, 2007. Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, and have been so incredibly patient. A big thanks as always to my beta, PadfootsBitch.

Also, there are some quotes from Sorceror's Stone. The quotations are italicized and, of course, those words do not belong to me. The rest does. The characters do not. Of course. :-)

Enjoy!

Lacuna
Chapter Ten
.:.:.:.:.

Over the next week, the presses were ablaze with Draco's survival and the attack Harry had taken. Draco made sure to keep his head low, only emerging late at night when he went to visit Harry's bedside. The nurses, even the hawk-like woman, had all agreed to keep his visits top secret (including from their supervisors). So, it was with their help that he arrived around eleven, slept with Harry until half past six and then snuck away while the sun was still down. On his third night visiting, the mean hawkish nurse (whom he had come to know as Matilda) confided in him that she only allowed his visits because Harry's condition seemed to improve once he had left the first night. Many nurses hypothesized that Harry had been heartsick (having not known that the two had already seen each other previously) at not having his husband and did not want to fight to live until Draco showed up.

Needless to say, Draco had had a very difficult time not scoffing in the woman's face for suggesting such an idiotic notion.

As for Draco, he did not notice any change in Harry's condition. He was still comatose, still pale and sickly looking, and really, that was all that mattered. Once Harry started looking better, then he was getting better.

The Weasleys continued to let him bunk at their house, though they also knew nothing of his nightly escapades. Molly merely thought he was a night wanderer when he said he was going for a walk. Ayida was continually warming to Draco every day, and Draco would not tell anybody, but he always felt a little bit smug when she chose him over somebody she had known her whole life…. Not to mention just a little bit warm in the chest. It was difficult not to squeeze her so hard that she complained. However, most times than not, when she hugged him, he did not want to let go. He usually compromised by squeezing a little harder than she would like and then kissing her face all over. It boggled his mind how he could have lived without this for so long, and it made his heart ache even more at the fact that he had missed her whole life.

Presently, as Draco released her from his hug, he ruffled her hair and patted her once on the backside. "Love you," he smiled at her. She turned and looked at him as though he were a bit dim.

"You say that all the time," she said and then stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, I do. I love you lots," he grinned and stuck his tongue out.

"Love you, too," she replied in a long suffering voice and then she scurried into the kitchen where Molly was making a dessert for later. Draco sighed in content and leaned back against the couch.

"Funny how children do that, isn't it?" Arthur Weasley asked from his chair across the room. Draco found it somewhat difficult to speak with a man who was so obsessed with Muggle things, so most times said nothing around or to Arthur. It was not that he did not like him; Draco just found it hard to think of things to say about plugs. However, this seemed like a line of conversation that Draco would be able to follow.

"Do what?"

"Make grown men revert to children," Arthur smiled.

"Oh, I don't know," Draco said a playful glint to his eyes. "I've met a few handfuls of men who don't need children around to act like them."

"Truer words never spoken," Molly piped up as she entered. "A fine example would be the young man on his way over. Arthur, Ron and Hermione will be here for dinner. They have wanted so badly to see Draco. I hope you don't mind, Draco."

Draco tried not to let show the sudden tension he felt . How was he to act with these people? In his memory, he had done nothing but torment and hate them. Now here he was, thrown into an alternate reality where he knew nothing of liking them. He forced a smile. "I don't mind. Besides, it's your home." What could they possibly have to talk about? Draco fretted. They would want to talk about what he had been doing all these years away from England. But did he really want to talk about that? No, not really. Would they ask him what he thought about Harry? He hoped not, because he did not want to talk about that either. How would he answer any of their questions?

"Oh, I'm afraid that when he wakes up, he will be terribly heartbroken to find that I'm not in the least bit interested. The only interest I have in him is his life with Ayida. That's all. I don't love him anymore. I don't even remember him. In fact, I would like to say that right now, I almost hate him for what he kept from me. He lied and betrayed me. He made me trust him."

Draco mentally shook his head. Of course he would not say that. Even he was not that callous.

So, over the next hour Draco sat silently, fretting his impending meeting. Ayida did not say a word to him when she frequently entered the room as though she knew that something was bothering him. When the sounds of Apparition echoed from outside, Draco thanked his lucky stars that Arthur had gone into the kitchen minutes earlier, as he dashed as quietly as he could up the stairs to the bathroom. Once inside, he leaned against the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Don't look so glum, child. You look quite put together," the mirror admonished him. "Quite splendid indeed."

"Shut up," Draco muttered and ran his fingers through the length of his hair. It was getting rather long, he thought. It now swung easily over his shoulders and because it was so fine, knotted easily. His fingers caught the snags and pulled on his scalp. He wiggled his nose as it began to itch.

Voices from below startled his attention to the door for a few moments, and only when they died down did Draco look back to the mirror. He did not know why he was so anxious, did not know why he had found refuge in the bathroom. It was quite rude and his mother would be…. Draco stopped. He did not care what his mother would have thought. Smoothing down his robes, though they contained no wrinkles, Draco took a deep breath.

"Steady on," he murmured. "They're not Harry. They're just his best friends." He looked into his worried eyes. "Which is exactly why they'll kill me later when Harry tells them what I'm ready to do."

"Draco!" Molly called up the stairs. "Come down, dinner is about to be served!"

Without waiting to dwell on it further, he pulled the door open and descended the stairs. "Sorry," he answered. "I just had to use the loo. Ron and Hermione here then?"

"Just arrived," she beamed as he came into view. "In the kitchen. I just have to nip upstairs for a moment."

Then she was gone and Draco was left to reluctantly head for the kitchen. He stopped, feet from the door listening to the voices that came from within. Ron seemed to be speaking with Arthur, and Draco suddenly just knew that he could not go in there. He did not know these people. He looked around for an escape route.

"Looking for the nearest exit?" asked a voice.

Startled, he looked around to see Hermione approaching him. She was still slightly plump from having a baby, and so grown up from the last memory he had of her. She had grown into a lovely young woman, he thought, and still… he was terrified of her. He blinked at her, attempting a smirk, but failing. "How'd you know?" he asked quietly, a small helpless smile stretching his mouth.

"I know you better than you think I do," she smiled at him.

Draco looked away, suddenly not only terrified but extremely uncomfortable. "Everybody does. Everybody in this house is a stranger to me."

Hermione studied his face for a few moments, her own face thoughtful. "Yet it must be somewhat encouraging to know that there is nobody here with ill feelings towards you. Ron might be a little difficult at the best of times, but he likes you really."

"No, I don't find that encouraging at all actually," Draco admitted ruefully. "The only things I find encouraging in this house is that my daughter is here, and that I don't feel as though I hate you like I remember."

She smiled, cocking her head to the side. "That's a start then, isn't it, Draco?" He shrugged slightly, secretly elating in the fact that somebody had used his real name. Of course, plenty of people had in the past week, but it still sent a thrill through him each time a new person did. He always expected to hear his pseudonym. "It's so good to have you back," she whispered then, her eyes filling with tears. "You have no idea what sort of impact your death had on everybody, especially Harry."

Draco looked to his feet in slight embarrassment. "I didn't die."

Hermione grasped his forearm. "I know. Draco, I just want to tell you that I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I didn't write back to you a couple weeks ago, and… for everything else. I feel responsible for when you went to Narcissa when we all thought Harry was dead in the first place. Harry had always asked us to look out for you if something should ever happen to him, but you were so adamant about being left alone. We didn't know what to do…."

"Please don't," Draco said quietly. "If it's all the same to you, I don't want to dwell on 'what ifs.' I'll go mad. I hardly even know the full story. Severus filled in the basics, but he wasn't knowledgeable of everything that happened between Harry and me. Also, I just don't want to talk about it right now."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose it's understandable." Taking Draco by complete surprise, she flung her arms around his neck and held on tight. "We have all missed you so much. Nobody but Harry ever thought there was a chance that you were still alive. Someday," she pulled back, wiping tears from her cheeks, "I would like to hear where you've been."

"Someday," he agreed.

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed, coming in from the kitchen. He had grown up, as well, Draco thought. He seemed taller, and his freckles seemed to stand out just a little more. His shoulders had broadened and he looked almost frightfully strong, even though he was not overtly muscular. "Bloody hell, mate, you look like you've been brought through the wringer, doesn't he, Hermione?"

"Ron!"

"What? I figure Harry's been stroking his ego enough down there in San Juan."

Draco looked down at himself. "The mirror said I look put together," he mumbled, his face turning red. He hated it when he looked less than his best, and to be pointed out that he looked awful was embarrassing.

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm only joking. But I'm right though, aren't I? Harry's been telling you how dead gorgeous he thinks you are, hasn't he?"

What an awful brute, Draco thought as he stared up into Ron's face. How was it any of his business what Harry had told him? Then again, his competitive streak had lit within him and Draco smirked. "He said I was perfect." It did not matter that Harry had said that after smelling him…. Ah, well, it was all the same, wasn't it?

A slow grin began to break onto Ron's face as if he understood what was going on inside of Draco's head. "Of course he did," he conceded with a nod. "I should have known. C'mon, let's go eat. I'm starving."

Slowly, Draco followed Ron with a growing smile.

It was hours later, a while after Ayida had been put to bed (as well as Al) and Molly and Arthur had retired for the night, when the subject Draco had been avoiding all night finally came up. They were sitting in the living room, each with a wine glass in hand. Their conversation had been about what Hermione and Ron were doing with their careers and what sorts of jobs Draco had held in the past years. He admitted that he had held few as Narcissa had provided for him, until he had acquired the club position a half year ago. He rather liked the work of running a business and thought that perhaps he would open another someday, though he did not know what kind it would be.

A silence had long since fallen and as Draco sipped his wine, he could feel the heavy weight of Ron's eyes on him. The blond tensed in anticipation. He had reasoned to himself that eventually he would have to answer people's questions, and so had decided that perhaps he would favour them one or two answers.

"How much do you remember?" Ron asked in a gush as though he had wanted to ask that particular question all night. Draco supposed he had been.

Sighing, he set his glass down and folded his hands in his lap contemplating how best to answer. After all, how could he answer how much he could remember when he really had no sense of how much he was missing in the first place? "Well," he began slowly, and said as much to them. "Technically, I suppose I'm missing Harry altogether. I don't recall ever meeting him until a few weeks ago. Then again, forgetting one person makes me forget others. For instance, I don't remember getting to know you two. I knew you, certainly, I just don't remember feeling anything other than hatred for you. I don't remember deciding to conceive Ayida. Who knows who or what else I'm missing."

"Have you remembered anything?" Hermione asked, leaning forward in her seat.

"I have remembered a few things. They aren't clear all the time. I mostly remember emotions, mostly feeling happy…." He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the day in the pool. It seemed like such a long time ago. "I remember… I was happy once. I was very happy one time."

"Because you had Harry," Hermione murmured.

Draco shrugged. "Probably."

She sniffed and leaned back in her chair as Ron leaned forward. "Do you love him?"

"I'm sorry?" Draco blinked.

"Do you love him? Do you think you still love Harry?"

"If I answer, are you going to run off and tell him?"

"Firstly, he's comatose –"

"Comatose people can still hear, Ron," Hermione frowned.

"Secondly," Ron ignored her, "I wouldn't if I thought you didn't want us to."

"Well, I don't want anybody to tell him anything. If he hears anything, it'll be from my mouth."

"Of course," Hermione conceded. "You really don't need to tell us anything. It's your business what you feel for him."

Draco stared at his feet for a few moments, deciding that he needed to say it aloud. "I know it's my business, but I think I need to tell somebody what I'm thinking. And what I'm thinking is that…. I don't love him. I care about him, but I don't…." He trailed off and looked away. Hermione's eyes had instantly filled with tears again and Ron had looked away, out the window. Surely, they hated him now.

"Oh," Hermione whispered her voice choked with tears. "Oh, my…. Oh, God, he'll want to die, he'll be so heartbroken."

"I'm sorry. I can't…."

"I don't blame you, Draco!" Hermione said fiercely. "I blame Narcissa. If she had never interfered, you and Harry would be together, perhaps you would have another child, and you would still be so sick in love that you would even make me want to vomit."

Ron let out a bark-like laugh, but immediately stifled it with a cough. Draco looked from him to Hermione. "We were that bad together?"

"Oh," Hermione said with a smile, "it was rather sweet to watch really. Honestly, you two always had your differences, but that's to be expected. You two were just so considerate of each other. Sometimes, I don't think you realised it, but you were. I remember when you were going through therapy. Harry was so worried whenever it was brought up. He gave you whatever you wanted, and he made sure nobody crossed you when you were…. What?" She stopped, having noticed Draco's shocked face.

"Therapy?" he finally managed to utter.

Both she and Ron exchanged a startled glance. After a few tense moments, Ron shifted in his chair. "Yeah, mate. You went through therapy sessions after what You-Know-Who did to you."

Draco's heart felt as though it slid to a standstill. How did they know? "Did what to me?" he asked. He needed to know to be sure they were talking about the same thing.

"He… he…." Hermione stuttered.

"Just say it!" Draco demanded.

"He raped you," she whispered immediately.

The blood drained from Draco's face and he felt himself deflate in his seat. This was the single most humiliating day of his entire life. He had wanted to take that to his grave. "You don't remember that?" Ron asked tentatively. "Because I would say that's a good thing."

"Of course I remember it!" the blond snapped irritably. "It has nothing to do with Harry, does it? So of course I remember every single fucking detail! I just was not aware that anybody contained that knowledge but me." He straightened his shirt and cleared his throat in an effort to maintain his dignity. "I suppose Harry knows then?"

"He was at every therapy session with you," Ron said as he summoned the wine bottle into his hand. "And Draco, I think you are very wrong when you say that what You-Know-Who did to you had nothing to do with Harry. Everything he did had something to do with Harry, especially when it came to you."

Draco merely blinked at him for a few moments and then turned to stare out the window. He was determined to say nothing more of anything. It was getting late, after all. Perhaps he could excuse himself to bed. The only downfall was that Hermione and Ron had decided to spend the night. Draco readied himself for a long day ahead.

"Draco, I know that this has probably been a difficult night for you, but… well, I brought along something that I thought might interest you somewhat," Hermione said tentatively.

"I can't imagine that either of you have anything I would want."

She cleared her throat. "I'll go fetch it and then you can judge." She left and for a few minutes, did not return. Ron stayed resolutely silent, obviously quite aware that Draco was annoyed and preferred not to be disturbed. When Hermione finally did return, it was with a large bowl with rune engravings on the side. Draco's eyes were alert upon her and the object he conceived to be a pensieve.

"Professor Dumbledore willed this pensieve to Harry when he died a year ago, among other things. Luckily, I found it empty when I went to fetch it the other day from Harry's house. Otherwise I would not have been able to use it for my purposes."

"Which would be?" Draco prompted impatiently.

"To show you what I remember. And of course, Ron." She placed the bowl in the centre of the floor and beckoned him forward. He cautiously slid from the couch and onto the floor. "You do know how these work, right?" At his annoyed nod, she smiled. "We only have five memories in here, so it won't take terribly long. It's from Ron's and my perspective, keep in mind, so I can't follow you two where I didn't go."

"I already said that I know how it works," Draco snapped, becoming increasingly annoyed and without telling her, leaned down to stick his face within the swirling silver contents. He was sucked up and seemingly flipping over, landed smoothly on his feet. Hermione landed beside him moments later.

"There's no need to get vicious, Draco," she reprimanded. "I'm only trying to give you something of what your relationship with Harry was like." At that moment, they heard pealing laughter come from somewhere far off and they both looked around. They were on the Hogwarts Express.

"In there," Hermione pointed to the compartment they were standing in front of. "This is Ron's memory of the first train ride to Hogwarts. Harry and Ron should be through that door."

Feeling somewhat eager to see an eleven year old Harry Potter (but also not wanting to show just how eager), Draco stepped forward and slid the door open. A sprawling array of sweets was spread out on a seat between two small boys. Well, Draco amended to himself, Ron did look rather tall for his age, but his face had a boyish look to it. His gaze swept to the boy by the window and he could not quite help the smile that spread his lips. Harry was quite dishevelled looking what with his hair shaggy and unkempt, and his clothes were in sorry need of a shrinking charm, and his glasses were taped together.

"Cute thing, isn't he?" Hermione smiled slightly, cocking her head to the side. "Though from an outsider's perspective, he's cute; from my point of view, I look at him and see neglect. I hate what his relatives did to him. Anyway, we may as well take a seat. I think Ron put too much of this memory in here."

After she and Draco took a seat, he turned his attention to the pair across from them. Ron was talking about what bad shape his wand was in, and that was when the compartment door opened again. Hermione groaned. Draco grinned.

An eleven year old Hermione Granger had stepped into the compartment looking for a toad. Hermione hid her face as her younger self went through her story about how she had learned all the course books by heart. "Ambitious," Draco commented lightly. "If you were a pureblood, you could have the potential to be in Slytherin."

"I would have been in Ravenclaw before Slytherin," Hermione said, coming out from behind her hands. They had to wait a few more minutes, minutes in which Hermione spent huffing about how she had told Ron that he had put too much of this memory in. Secretly, however, Draco enjoyed watching this Harry. It was difficult to fathom just how much a person could grow and mature in fourteen years.

"Oh, finally!" Hermione exclaimed when the door opened. "This should be interesting. I never did ask them how this first meeting turned out. I can't imagine very well."

Draco watched in open mouthed wonder as his younger self walked in with Crabbe and Goyle to his sides. He thought he rather looked like a dwarf, he was so small. It was funny to think that he had never actually felt that small.

"Is it true?" Draco said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Unless Draco was much mistaken, by the looks of Harry's face, it did not look as though Harry favoured Draco too well already at this point. However, he then remembered how Harry had told him that they had first met at Madam Malkin's and then on the train to Hogwarts. This was the second time they had met. Draco watched in silent fascination.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Draco scoffed at himself. Honestly.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

"Sounds like something I would say," Draco murmured to Hermione. "What a prat I was."

"You're telling me," Hermione whispered back, her eyes firm on the scene playing out before them.

They both watched avidly as Draco held out his hand in offer of friendship, and Harry's cool gaze upon that hand. Harry's gaze shifted back up to Draco's face. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Draco made a noise in the back of his throat, a feeling running through his chest that he imagined must be quite similar to what his younger self must be feeling. He swallowed thickly. "That smarts a little," he said quietly.

Hermione grasped his hand as the scene shifted.

"This is my memory," she murmured as a hallway appeared around them. They were obviously in Hogwarts somewhere, though Draco could not tell where. "Sixth year," she continued. "My behaviour might be a little odd to you."

"Why?" Draco peered around the deserted hallway for Hermione, who finally appeared around the far end of the hall, books weighing down her arms. She was alone and seemed to be muttering to herself.

"There were strange things happening to everybody at Hogwarts sixth year," she explained. "It's too difficult to get into right now, so let's just focus on what I saw. See? I've heard something."

Draco had also noticed the sixteen year old Hermione stop in her tracks to listen. She took a few steps back and slid behind a tapestry. Draco could see her eyes peeking out, looking towards where he and present-day Hermione stood. Then he also heard something. There was somebody whispering behind them. He slowly turned (realising that Hermione had just done so) and saw a door opening to their left.

Harry peeked his head out of the door and looked around. Seeing nobody, his head retreated and they heard more whispering. Seconds later, Harry emerged, closely followed by Draco.

"Oh," Draco was surprised, though he wondered why. He knew these memories pertained to him and Harry. It still seemed a bit surreal that they had known each other when he could not remember anything.

The younger Draco closed the door carefully as Harry watched him. "Are you sure you can't help me tomorrow?" Harry said, his voice still low.

"I told you I have somewhere to be," Draco replied, somewhat shiftily.

Harry visibly deflated, making Draco very much want to go slap himself to make him do whatever Harry wanted him to do. "What am I supposed to do tomorrow night?" Harry asked.

Draco's younger self at least looked remorseful. He reached out and gently grasped Harry's elbow. "Make sure you're in the room and I'll try to come see you afterwards." They fell silent for a few moments, staring at each other. Harry almost seemed to float closer to Draco, his face contorted with something like longing. "Wait for me," Draco whispered and Harry nodded. Then Draco disappeared beneath a cloak, and for a moment, Harry's hand was suspended in the air, his fingers curling around something. Then his arm dropped and Harry slowly turned back to the door.

The memory continued for another minute as Hermione came out from behind the tapestry and tried opening the door with several spells. Draco paid her no attention. He was too numb to really think about anything. Wait for me. How often had he said it? Why… why did Harry keep waiting?

"Sixth year is when you two became friends. I don't remember exactly when Harry said you became something more, but it was not long after this day, I think. At the time, I didn't actually hear what was being said, but I had thought you were just helping get information on Harry. Again, it's complicated."

As Hermione stomped off with her books in hand, the memory shifted again. This time, they were in some sort of library and Harry and Draco were sitting close together on a couch while Hermione sat on a chair next to them. "Summer after sixth year," Hermione informed him. "We were at Sirius Black's manor for the summer, including you. It was fun up until you broke up with Harry," she smiled reminiscently. "But that's a whole other story. You obviously got back together anyway."

Draco was hardly listening to her. He was busy staring at himself and Harry sitting on the couch. They were holding hands and they had both just leaned the side of their faces against the back of the couch and were speaking very intimately. It looked as though they were going to kiss. Hermione seemed to be doing her very best to ignore them by digging her face in a book. It seemed as if she had succeeded, because both Draco and Hermione could not understand what they were saying to each other. It sounded as if they were talking through three pillows. Draco smiled as Harry stuck his tongue out and it hit the younger Draco's face. He recoiled for a second before he clamped down on it with his lips, then suddenly, they were kissing insistently.

Hermione slammed her book closed. "Oh, honestly you two!" she practically yelled at them. The two flew apart, seemingly alarmed. "Contrary to popular belief, I do not enjoy listening to you two snog on the couch next to me. You two have perfectly good rooms. USE THEM!"

Draco stared at her for a moment, bemused. "We were here first," he retorted.

Hermione huffed and stood with a flourish. "Boys!" she exclaimed and hurried down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.

Draco turned back to Harry with a grin and spoke with deliberate loudness. "She's just jealous that Weasley isn't as handsome as your boyfriend, Potter, or so adept at using his tongue."

Draco smirked at Hermione, who was standing with her arms crossed. Hermione glanced at him. "Ron is an outstanding kisser, Malfoy," she said quite seriously.

Draco chuckled. "I didn't want to know."

Harry burst into a large grin, but managed to contain his laughter. "Draco!" he exclaimed, obviously for Hermione's benefit. They kissed briefly and then Draco pulled away.

"I want to go fly anyway. Let's go find Weasley."

Harry's face fell.

"I was always disappointing him, wasn't I?" Draco asked. "It's a wonder he even fell in love with me."

Hermione turned from the scene to look at him with a frown. "You had many problems, Draco, that Harry knew you had to overcome. At the time, I don't believe Harry knew what you had gone through with Voldemort, so yes, of course he was going to be disappointed when his boyfriend did not want to snog or stay with him alone. It seemed the only time you two did snog was when somebody was around. Although, what do I know? I never asked Harry how often you snogged when nobody was looking. I had quite enough of it while I was there."

Harry and Draco got up from the couch and waved to Hermione who had taken a seat down below. She frowned at them. Harry ignored her and turned to give Draco a hug. His touch seemed like it was so gentle, and when he brushed his fingers through Draco's hair, Draco felt his heart constrict and he wanted to get away from these images. He wanted to remember them, not see them through somebody else's perspective.

"Get me out of here," he demanded.

"But there's still two more memories," Hermione protested.

"I don't care if there's ten more, I want out."

Hermione looked into his face and seeing something she had not noticed moments before, nodded. "Okay."

Seconds later, Draco spun out of the pensieve and onto solid ground. Ron, who was now rocking a fussing Al looked up startled. "Back already? I assumed it would take another half hour or so." Draco did not answer. He felt as though he had lost all ability to move his limbs. He stared unseeingly at the floor as Hermione brushed her robes down.

"He's hungry, isn't he?" she questioned and took Al from Ron's arms. "If you don't mind, Draco… I breastfeed. I cover myself up, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

He vaguely waved his arm in response. Grabbing a small blanket, she threw it over her chest and sat down. Draco hardly noticed what she was doing. "Well?" Ron questioned impatiently. "What happened? Did you review all the memories?"

"All but two," Hermione answered, patiently adjusting Al beneath the blanket so that he would feed.

"Ah," Ron sat back, looking up at Draco as if expecting him to say something. Draco blinked a few times, meeting his eyes.

"It was nice of you… to put your memories in there for my viewing," he began quietly, finally finding his voice. "However, if I am to remember anything of my past, I would rather it be through my perspective and not anybody else's." He deliberately left out the fact that seeing himself engaged with Harry in such a familiar manner was more than he could possibly handle at the present time. It made him feel things he did not yet fully understand and quite honestly did not know if he wanted to understand them. "So, I thank you for the generosity. For now, I am tired. All I want is a peaceful night's sleep, so…." He bowed his head slightly to both of them. "Good night, Ron, Hermione. It's nice to meet you again." He turned to Ron again, thinking of their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express. "Ron… I apologise for any insult against your family I might have thrown at you." The blond looked towards the stairs. "I rather like your family. They're… a lot nicer than mine, aren't they?" Ron seemed to be at a loss for words as his mouth was hanging open slightly. Hermione was looking up at Draco with a sad fondness. "Anyway…" Draco shrugged slightly and turned to leave.

"Good night, Draco," Hermione said as he disappeared from the room.

Draco's wish for a peaceful night's rest was not to be had, however. He tossed and turned all night, images of what he had seen in the pensieve plaguing him. A few times, he dreamed that he and Harry were in a healer's office with two older men, men Draco assumed to be Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Draco felt scared and unwilling to leave Harry's side. He knew that something was wrong with what was about to happen, but all three of his companions kept reassuring him that the healer would not want to make him straight again. It did not make any sense. Draco's mind struggled with the dream, trying to understand the content. Finally the healer came and called for him and when he went inside the office, the healer hypnotised him and he relived the first horrible memory of Voldemort raping him.

He woke in a sweat, his breathing heavy, and an intense need to see Harry again was threatening to overwhelm him. However, he found that it was already daylight and he did not like going to the hospital in the day. The entire household was already awake and had breakfasted by the time he came downstairs, freshly showered and dressed. Molly had set out a hot plate for him and made him sit down as she insisted that he looked a little peaky. He certainly did not feel like himself, and whenever he did not feel well, he liked it when people coddled over him. He allowed Molly to hover over him like a mother hen this morning. It was reassuring that somebody cared.

After breakfast, Draco took a seat in the living room, and was shortly joined by Ayida who seemed to have woken with a cold. She crawled into his lap, sniffling and holding tightly to her blanket. They sat together for a long time. Draco held his nose pressed into her soft hair and his hand gently rubbed her back. As they both drifted off, Draco's heart suddenly began beating fast and his brain kicked in. Slowly, he opened his eyes, enlightened on what was making him feel so ill.

It was this girl in his arms. It was Harry, who lay ailing in the hospital. It was his own mind working against him. He longed to know his past, and as long as his brain knew that there was something missing, it would continue to deteriorate, and his heart would surely continue to break every time he laid eyes on his daughter, on Harry. He needed to know or he would become sick. There was no doubt in his mind. He had to do something about his memory, or it would kill him. It was poison.

"Ron," he said quietly. The red head had just passed the entrance to the living room and when he heard his name, backtracked.

"Yeah?"

"Ayida is sleeping, and I have something I need to do. Could you watch her?"

Nodding, Ron came to retrieve her. "I'll just put her to bed. When will you be back?"

"In a couple hours, possibly. I'm not sure how long it will take. I'll be back in time for dinner at any rate."

"I'll tell mum."

"Thanks."

Grabbing his cloak and slipping on his shoes, Draco went outside and Disapparated. Moments later, he reappeared in Hogsmeade and began the trek to Hogwarts. The halls were empty and the dungeons seemed a little more frigid than he remembered, but he carried on to his destination. It was terribly familiar and he could not sweep away the feeling of deep nostalgia that washed over him. The doors to the Potions classroom opened as Draco approached, and he stopped.

"Severus," he greeted with a nod.

Severus on his part looked completely unsurprised by his unannounced visit. "Draco. I thought that pensieve might push you in the right direction."

"It was you? You told them to do it?"

Severus nodded and gestured Draco to follow him. "Of course. I assume you figured it out then, considering you're here."

Draco waited to answer until he was seated within the warm interior of Severus's private chambers. "It's poison."

Pouring a glass of brandy, Severus nodded slightly. "To put it bluntly, yes. You have realised the truth, so the potion is working against you now. It's trying to make you forget what it made you forget in the first place. However, it won't work twice. It's always been a flaw with the potion and regrettable when people have died… not that you will," he hurried to reassure when Draco made a sound of protest. "It's been nearly a month since you've first seen Potter, yes?" At Draco's nod, he continued. "Then you need a remedy… and quickly. You've felt the poison?"

"I started feeling off last night. At first I thought it was just because I had seen myself with Harry. Partly… it was because of that. I started to understand it just today."

Severus pushed a drink into Draco's hand and sat across from him in his own chair. "The Aurors have found concrete evidence against your mother. She is the one who brewed the potion."

Draco nodded stiffly and took a deep drink out of his glass. "Is that so?"

"She also made a serious misjudgement by forgetting to add powdered root of calendula. Your father was never an aficionado of potions, so never kept a healthy supply of ingredients, and neither did your mother. The manor's supply never would have held it and none of the records show that she purchased it. By overlooking that step, she made the potion she gave you even more toxic than it already has become. I am surprised that you have not felt the effects of it yet."

"How am I to feel something that I don't know is there?" Draco asked bitterly.

Lightly, Severus shrugged. "The same as anybody else who is ill detects their ailment, by conjecture."

Draco snorted. "Well, I'm sorry for not detecting it earlier, but when I feel fine, I'm not going to assume that I'm slowly being poisoned by a potion which was incorrectly brewed by my own mother."

"Tell me, Draco," Severus leaned forward in his seat, his face hard, "Does it feel like you are fine when you do not remember your own life? Do you feel fine when you realise that you have forgotten your own husband and daughter?" He paused for a moment to let it sink in, and then he sneered. "You have had a cancer eating away at your brain for four years, Draco, and you indicate that you have felt fine?" He raised a brow and leaned back. "That seems a very raw definition of the word to me, Draco."

"I'm sorry," he replied contritely. "I understand what you're saying. It's just… how was I supposed to know, Severus?"

"Your mind was taken from you!" Severus almost yelled. "You are a wizard, start thinking like one! I suppose I always prided myself a little too much that my godson was bright. You could not remember years of your life and you took every word Narcissa fed to you like a Muggle child who had never been exposed to magic."

Draco was on his feet before he realised what he was doing, and had smashed the full glass of brandy to the floor. "SHE IS MY MOTHER! I HAD NOBODY ELSE! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE?"

Severus rose to his feet as well to tower over Draco. He glared down. "I taught you… your father taught you that above all, you are to look out for yourself. You do not trust anybody when it counts. You were suddenly missing your life. I understand that you were confused, but that did not give you the go ahead to suddenly forget everything you had ever been taught… about magic and about life. How could you have taken Narcissa's explanation at face value? Did you not consider that it was a little extraordinary that she was the only one who knew anything, who knew where you were? Did you not consider that it was magic that took your mind away and that it was not of your own doing? Or did you forget all of that? While you were at it, did you forget that you are a wizard? From where I am standing, that seems the most plausible explanation. I have never been more disappointed in your actions in your entire life than I am now."

Draco stared up at Severus in disbelief, his entire body starting to shake. Never had it felt this ghastly when his father said that he was disappointed in his son. "I'm sorry," he said through parched lips. "Sev…." He said urgently when the other man turned away. Severus silently cleaned up the mess of liquid and glass from the floor and just as silently returned to his seat. "Sev, she's my mother. She taught me just as much about magic and life as you and father. Her lessons have always been just as useful. I don't understand how I was to suspect her of doing anything to harm me. Mothers… they aren't supposed to…." He trailed off, at a loss as to what to say.

"No, they are not, but they do. Unfortunately, you have learned the difficult way. Sit down, Draco, you have heard my worst. Drink some more brandy. Calm down, you look red in the face." He sent his own glass of alcohol through the air towards Draco. The blond caught it deftly and took three drinks before he would sit.

After a long time in silence – a silence in which Severus closely observed Draco's nervous twitching – Draco finally set his now empty glass down. The alcohol was finally taking some effect. "Severus?"

The darker man cocked his head. "Yes, Draco?"

"I want to remember. I want to know Harry again."

Severus nodded. "Wise choice."

Draco understood what he meant. He had chosen to live.

A week passed with almost nothing changing, at least where Harry was concerned. He remained comatose though the healers were telling the Weasleys that they were very optimistic. The damaged internal organs were rapidly repairing with the help the healers gave them, and Harry was giving positive signs that he would wake up. They did not know when it would happen; they only knew that he would. Draco, for his part, heard all of this information second hand. He now refused to go to the hospital to see Harry, using his own healer appointments as an excuse. The Weasleys did not need to know that he only needed to see his healer three times a week, or that his healer was stationed at St. Mungo's. In fact, Draco had chosen not to tell anybody why he needed a healer. He had gone with the simplest explanation: Severus thought he might be depressed. He was going to a psychologist.

Draco had already been to three of his appointments and could not say that any progress had been made. His healer, a man by the name Darren Walkowiak, had done nothing but put Draco into a deep sleep so that he might study his brain and other certain details that Draco did not understand. Walkowiak usually had an assistant with him, a rather young, attractive man, whose name Draco had yet to catch. However, Walkowiak had assured Draco at their last meeting that they would begin with the regular treatments at their next meeting. Draco feared what those treatments would be. Severus had warned him that they were not painless.

Over the weekend, Draco tried not to think about this and attempted to distract himself with Ayida. Ayida, however, had more matters to lay weight to his already stressed mind. They were playing outside with the gnomes (Ayida had a certain fascination with pulling their hair and letting them chase her). This game made Draco quite nervous, so he chased behind the gnome should it get too close to her. Finally, when Draco had swung the last gnome by the hair and thrown it over the fence, Ayida dragged herself to the picnic table and plopped down.

"That was fun," she said. "Daddy, next time you should let them catch me."

She had reverted to calling him 'daddy' sometime in the past few days, and Draco could not help but feel warm. He found he did not like being called 'father' as much as he thought. It reminded him too much of Lucius. "I don't think so," he plopped beside her with a huff. He found it was one thing to run laps in a gym, and an entirely different thing to chase a four year old. He had never felt more out of shape. She was a never ending ball of energy. "Gnomes are nasty things," he continued to puff. "They'll pinch you."

"Really?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Probably, but I do know that they bite. So, I don't want you playing with them if a grown-up isn't with you, all right?"

Ayida nodded seriously and watched with high interest as a gnome climbed over the fence and back into its hole. When it disappeared, she leaned against Draco with a sigh. "I want to go home, daddy."

Draco stiffened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Home," she emphasized. "I want to go… to go because daddy there."

"Oh," Draco nodded once. He understood. She wanted to go back to Harry's. He had not even thought that she did not consider this home. He had had so much else on his mind… this had not even crossed it. "Ayida," he pulled her into his lap though she was muddy and it smeared onto his trousers. "I told you before that your daddy is in the hospital. He's still sleeping, remember? You saw him two days ago and I heard that you spoke to him quite a bit."

"Yeah," she nodded. "But he not talk back."

"He can't, but he would like to because he could hear you."

"So he not at home?"

"No, not yet."

She was silent for a long while before she finally sighed again and reached up to wrap her arms around Draco's neck. "I want to go home. Can you take me dere?"

It would be ridiculous for him to take Ayida home. He would have to care for her by himself and he had no idea how to do that. He would have to find a sitter each time he needed to do something. It was so easy here at the Burrow to know that there was somebody who was always here. "Please, daddy?"

Draco felt his heart melt and he squeezed her. "I'll see what I can do. I'm not promising anything, but we'll see, all right?"

She pulled back with a giant grin. "Okay! I cold. Can I have hot cocoa?"

"Sure," he kissed her cheek and set her on her feet. Draco forgot about the mud caking their shoes and trouser legs. A couple months of continuous rain had prolonged and deepened the mud. When they traipsed in, leaving muddy shoes prints on the floor, Molly bore down on them and demanded that Draco clean up after them and be more thoughtful in the future. Shrugging at Ayida, he pulled out his wand and cleaned not only their clothing up but also the floor. However, his cleansing spells had always been useless, and a fine sheet of dirt was still left over everything the mud had touched. Molly admonished them harshly, but melted when Ayida turned big, green eyes up to her and said that she just wanted some cocoa. Molly, after cleaning the mess with her wand, ushered both Ayida and Draco to the table and made them the steamy drink.

As Draco sat warming his hands against the sides of the mug, he thought that he had no chance against the cute, little monster beside him. If they were to go back to Harry's house, she would have him wrapped around her finger, and she was smart… she would know it. Ayida was sitting on her knees with her face as close as possible to the liquid, blowing into it and giggling. "My face is wet!" she cried and looked up with a huge grin. She had Harry's smile. Her eyes crinkled in the same places and her eyes seemed greener just as Harry's did when he smiled. Draco smiled across the table until she looked back into her cocoa and resumed blowing air into her cup. He grimaced and took a drink. He hoped she did not know she had him around her finger already.

Over the next week, Draco discussed his problem about Ayida with Molly and Hermione. They thought that it would be a great idea to take her home and kept trying to persuade him that it would be for the best… for both of them. More often, he found that he was being left alone with Ayida, and he knew that these times were not just coincidence. Part of him was annoyed that they were priming him to take care of his daughter by himself. Then again, a part of him wanted it so badly that it hurt inside. He had missed so much of her life already that it pained him to be away from her. It also seemed as if Ayida was beginning to cling to him more as well. She tended to sulk when he was gone to his appointments and yelled for joy when he returned, only relinquishing hold of his legs when he pried her away.

One night, a few hours after putting Ayida to bed Draco lay in his own, staring at the ceiling. He was fighting an internal battle trying to decide if he should take Ayida home or not. Now he found that it was not so much the issue of taking care of her by himself. It was the issue of living alone in Harry's home. It somehow did not seem right. He wondered what Harry would think. And with that thought in mind, he swung his legs out of bed and dressed silently.

When he arrived at St. Mungo's minutes later, it was quiet and the nurses on Harry's floor offered him entrance with warm greetings. They had wondered where he had been for so long, but he offered no answer. He apologised to them and hurried to Harry's room. A soft light was glowing above the bed. Harry was lying still as ever, but this time there was colour to his cheeks as though somebody had added a little bit of blush to his cheekbones. Slowly, Draco approached him and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Hi," he whispered and gently took Harry's hand between both of his. It was warm, not clammy. "It's me," he continued, a little lamely, he thought. "I haven't been here for a while. I… I don't know if you've even noticed but… well, I haven't." He stroked the top of Harry's hand. "You look better, and your hand is warm, isn't it?"

Draco would not admit even to himself how good that knowledge made him feel or what the tingling warmth within his chest meant. "I've been busy. Ayida… she's a handful, you know but she's wonderful. Sometimes I still can't even believe she's mine."

He paused, wondering for a moment why he was here and why he was saying this when he had said it before. Harry probably would not even understand that Draco was thinking about taking Ayida home. The blond brushed the hair off Harry's forehead and decided to say something anyway.

"Ayida wants to go home – back to your house, I mean. I've been thinking about it for a week and I still don't know what to do. I feel wrong living in your house with you not there. Besides that I don't know if I'm ready to take care of her by myself. Molly has been leaving me by myself more often lately, but it's still different. I know her and Arthur will be home by dinner at the least. I wish you could at least tell me what you think, Harry. I want to ask you if you think I should take Ayida home."

Draco stared at Harry as if expecting an answer. When nothing was forthcoming, Draco sighed and hung his head. "I didn't –" he cut his words off and stared at their hands. Had that been…? There it was again!

Harry had squeezed his hand.

Draco expelled a harsh breath and turned his eyes to Harry's face. There was no change. "Harry?" he whispered. "Can you really hear me?" His hand was squeezed gently once more. "Are you awake? Harry? Oh, fuck me," he swore quietly. "Do you want me to take Ayida home?"

His hand was squeezed again, only harder this time. "I'll take that as a yes?" Another squeeze. Draco then realised that his breath was coming short and quick, and that this was something new. He grappled for his wand within his robes and sent a signal to the nurses. Two nurses came rushing in moments later, turning on lights and swarming the bed.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Malfoy?" a short witch asked, extracting her wand.

"He squeezed my hand," he said quietly, eyes coming up to meet theirs. "At least four times, he squeezed my hand."

The nurses looked at each other and then simultaneously began working around Draco, casting various spells over Harry. When they finished, they turned over bright eyes to the blond. "His brain waves are up," the one who had spoken before said. "There's more activity in his brain. I just checked that an hour before you came, Mr. Malfoy, and there was no change."

"Will there be more improvement?" Draco asked.

"There's no way to tell," the other, taller nurse informed him. "But we certainly hope so. I believe we should call the healer to come look at him just in case there might be something he can do."

Draco nodded. "Could I have a few more moments with him before I go home?"

The nurses nodded and headed for the door. When Draco was sure they were gone, he turned back to Harry. "I don't know what you're fighting for, but it had better not be me, Harry. Think of Ayida. She wants you back so badly… everybody does. Anyway," he sighed and stood up. "I should go in case Ayida wakes up and tries to find me." Hesitantly, he leaned down and gently kissed Harry's unresponsive lips. "Keep fighting, Harry even when I'm not here," he murmured and pulled away. "I'll turn the lights down for you." With a wave of his wand, they dimmed considerably. "Good night." Then he left through the door and tried not to think of how empty he felt now that he had left Harry's side.

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