Author's Note: And I am BACK! Well it hasn't really been a while, but the sentiment is still there, I hope. Got this random idea, don't know if it's been done, but I don't really care either! I realize that I don't put the disclaimer that these characters are NOT mine in every chapter, but I'm hoping you'll start from the beginning and see that it's here. Sadly, they aren't mine, but J.K. Rowling's. Okay? Okay.

Chapter 1

"Got to do better than that if you want to win, Potter!" Draco shouted as he sped past the Gryffindor on his broom.

He laughed as Potter raced after him to catch up and flew faster, throwing the other Seeker sharp turns and loops in an attempt to lose him. The score was almost evenly matched with Gryffindor slightly in the lead, so if Draco could just find the snitch, Slytherin would finally prevail over Gryffindor and Draco would finally prevail over Potter. Suddenly, he saw a flash of gold dart high above the pitch and the other players. Smirking, he sped up to catch it. But unfortunately Potter had seen it too, and was right on his tail in an attempt to beat him.

"Get out of my way, scarhead!" Draco yelled, trying to block the other boy's path. "This one's mine!"

"I don't think so, Ferret," Potter shot back, lowering his head and gaining more speed until he was right next to Draco.

They flew together like that, neck to neck, competing fiercely to get to the snitch first. Draco narrowed his eyes and concentrated fully on the task at hand. He would do anything it took to get the snitch first, if it resulted in finally beating and humiliating Potter. Once they'd finally reached the area, Draco saw the little gold object fly in front of his face. Potter was coming in from the other side and had reached out for it, his face scrunched up with intense focus.

And at that moment, Draco noticed very specific two things. One, that if he went for it now, he could be the one to capture the snitch first, and two... a bludger was barreling straight towards the back of Potter's head.

Draco didn't hesitate. He raced towards Potter at breakneck speed, ignoring the snitch completely.

"Move," he screamed, motioning at the bludger behind him.

The other boy didn't seem to understand. The snitch was right behind Draco and Potter looked irritated.

"No, you move!"

"Really, look out!" Draco shrieked.

The Gryffindor finally turned around and saw the bludger coming right for his face, and his green eyes widened in panic.

"Potter!"

Without thinking, Draco flew towards Potter and shoved him roughly out of the way, just in time for the bludger to make contact with the side of his head with a sharp, sickening crack. Everything was spinning and he could vaguely make out the sounds of shouts and commotion in the crowd before seemingly losing his sense of hearing in a split second. Draco felt the surreal sensation of dying and blurriness as he slipped off his broom, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a pair of wide, emerald eyes hovering above him.

~x~

Harry paced outside of the Hospital Wing nervously, biting his lip and clenching his fists as he walked. Malfoy had taken the bludger to the head hard, and he'd been out cold for about a week now. But Madam Pomfrey had informed him that the boy had woken up that morning and was supposed to take a few tests before anybody could see him. And Harry needed to see him. Gods, he felt so terrible about the whole thing. Worse than terrible, he had felt guilt viciously gnawing at him ever since the match. Even if Malfoy was an annoying bastard, he didn't deserve this. Nobody did.

Harry chewed on his lip some more and frowned. And if Malfoy hadn't pushed him out of the way, Harry certainly would've died from the impact. It was even a miracle that Malfoy hadn't. So was it a good thing that he was practically in a coma right now? Harry shuddered at the thought.

He was admittedly nervous about seeing Malfoy for the first time since the accident. He didn't know what state the other boy was in, if he would react horribly, or hate him even more, or blame him for what happened. But then again, he didn't really know where they stood together. Malfoy hadn't deliberately tried to provoke Harry since they came back for their eighth year, but it was clear that the intense dislike was still there. Perhaps he had changed, as everything did with the ending of the war. But surely, Malfoy still hated Harry. Especially now that he had almost gotten him killed on the spot. Right?

But then, why would Malfoy save him from that bludger? Harry had been trying to figure that one out for days now. He was the reason that Malfoy's parents and leader were dead, the reason his life was now hell as an ex-Death Eater. He shook his head and continued to pace back and forth in the hallway. It would probably always be a mystery to him. It wasn't as if he and Malfoy were ever going to sit down and have that heartfelt discussion over tea and biscuits. That was just ridiculous.

"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey's dainty face popped out from the doorway.

Harry frowned. She looked distressed.

"What's wrong? Is he okay? Oh gods, please don't tell me he's dead."

She sighed. "Well, no, not exactly. We're calling for Professor Snape right now. There's a situation."

Harry shook his head. "Let me in there to see him."

"I'm not sure that's the wisest—"

"Please, I'm the one who did this to him, just let me see him!"

She closed her eyes, but nodded resignedly. "All right. Just… Just try not to be too shocked."

Harry entered the room anxiously, looking around for the blond-haired Slytherin. Was he horribly disfigured? Paralyzed? Disgustingly bloody?

"He's behind here," Pomfrey said, motioning towards a curtain. Harry nodded and walked towards the curtain, slowly pulling it back. Then he frowned at what he saw.

Malfoy was sitting there, casually reading a magazine and eating a bowl of soup. He looked completely normal, except for the fact that his familiar smirk was missing from his face, and that his normally immaculate blond hair was strewn about his face. Harry cleared his throat a little in surprise. Why would he be shocked? Was this some kind of joke?

At the noise, the blond looked up from his magazine and right at Harry. But instead of looking furious that he was there, as Harry expected, Malfoy only stared at him blankly. Even his trademark steely grey eyes hardly showed any emotion at all.

"Are you here to give me more tests?"

Harry frowned. "Um, no?"

Then Malfoy did the strangest thing. He smiled. "Good. I don't want any more of those."

This has to be a joke now. Malfoy would never look at Harry like that, not even for a bet. So what the hell was he doing? Why wasn't he angry to see him, or even showing any signs of recognising him?

"Well, okay..."

"So if you're not here to give me tests, what are you here for?"

"Erm… to say sorry?"

"Sorry for what?"

Harry had barely had time to analyse the mind-boggling situation in his head when suddenly, the curtains rustled and Harry spun around to find Professor Snape and Dumbledore rushing in. "Get out of the way, Potter," Snape snarled, pushing past his shoulder rudely. Dumbledore glided by as well with a simple nod, and Harry was a bit disconcerted by the lack of luster in his normally twinkling eyes. The two of them went straight for Malfoy's bedside.

Malfoy grinned at the sight of Snape, seemingly having recognised him on the spot (but Harry wasn't bitter about that, or anything).

"Uncle Severus!" Then he saw Dumbledore and his grey eyes widened in surprise. "And Headmaster Dumbledore! What an honour!"

"Hello, it is good to meet you, dear boy."

"Wow, it is good to meet you too, sir!"

Harry frowned. What the hell was going on with him? Malfoy had known Dumbledore for over 8 years now. Was everybody in on this joke? Because it really wasn't funny at all. He frantically racked his brain for anything that might help him understand what was going on, but nothing was coming to him at the moment. So he continued to stare blankly at the scene in front of him.

"Draco, what is the last thing you remember before you woke up?" Snape asked slowly. Harry had never seen that expression of concern on his normally sallow face before. It was unnerving.

Malfoy stopped to think for a bit. "Um, I think that Father was ordering school supplies for Hogwarts." He looked around. "Where is Father, anyhow? Has he left me here? I still don't know where I am."

Snape winced a little. He put a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "That memory was from when you were 11, Draco. You're 19 now."

Malfoy frowned. "Then why can't I remember those 8 years?"

"You were hit in the head by a bludger while playing Quidditch."

"I play Quidditch?"

"For the Slytherin team, yes. You're the Seeker."

"Really? Wow! How did I get hit?"

Snape jerked his head towards Harry. "Him."

Malfoy turned to look at Harry with a frown. "He hit me?"

"No, no!" Harry said, holding his hands up in defence. "It was going for me, but you pushed me out of the way and got hit yourself," he lowered his eyes. "Which I'm really grateful for, by the way."

"You were extremely lucky that Mr. Malfoy was there, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. "I know."

Malfoy gazed at Harry for a few moments in silence. "Who are you?"

Harry felt a pang of shock and disbelief in his chest. How could Malfoy not know who he was, after all these years of pain and torture between them? After everything they've been through? What was going on? Granted, he used to fantasise about the day that Draco Malfoy would finally get over his strange obsession with taunting Harry, and forget about him. But not like this. Never like this.

He felt as if his throat was closing in as he spoke. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter. You don't remember me?" he croaked softly.

Malfoy looked at him curiously, and for a moment, Harry thought that he was going to sit up and smirk at him. But the boy only shot him another odd grin. "Harry Potter! You mean the Boy Who Lived? I saved the Boy Who Lived? Merlin's beard!"

Snape looked disgusted at that, while Dumbledore just looked amused. "Yes, you saved him. Draco, I believe that you're suffering from a strange case of amnesia. Strange, because you can remember events and people from the time before you attended Hogwarts, but nothing after that. Can you remember anything about being here?"

Malfoy looked around. "I'm at Hogwarts? That's interesting. No, I've never been here before."

"Well, this is the Hospital Wing, but yes, you are at Hogwarts. And you've been in this room several times, as well."

Malfoy looked concerned. He glanced around again. "What's going on? Have I lost my mind?" he whispered.

Snape rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I don't know, Draco. But I'm going to do everything in my power to find out."

"Until then, Mr. Malfoy, I believe that it would be in your best interest to return to your daily life with the help of myself and those around you, of course, and try to regain as much knowledge as possible," Dumbledore chimed in.

Malfoy hesitated, but nodded. "All right. But I need some basic information about myself, first. Did I have friends?"

Dumbledore and Snape looked at each other. Snape shrugged. "Most of your friends did not attend Hogwarts this year."

Malfoy frowned. "Why?"

Harry gasped. Malfoy didn't know about the war! He didn't know about Voldemort coming back, or being a Death Eater, or anything! Gods, this was going to be a shock for the other boy. He felt a rush of sympathy and guilt. This was all his fault. What can I do to make this better?

Snape looked conflicted. "Ah, that's a whole other topic to discuss, Draco." He stopped to think for a moment. "There is Blaise Zabini."

Suddenly, an idea popped into Harry's head. "I'll do it, sir," he blurted out.

Everybody turned to look at him. "What? No, that wouldn't do. It'd have to be somebody that was a closefriend of Draco's," Snape answered.

Malfoy interrupted them. "Wait, Harry Potter isn't my friend?"

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged looks again. "Maybe it'd be good for him to be around Harry," Dumbledore suggested.

Snape shook his head. "Regarding their history, though—"

"What history?" Malfoy butted in.

They both ignored him. "Mr. Malfoy might be a bit overwhelmed if he was confronted by somebody that he knew considerably well. I think that it would be beneficial for Mr. Potter to have that opportunity. And who knows, it could patch up their history."

"What history?" Malfoy repeated insistently.

Snape sighed. "Very well." He turned back to look at Harry. "You can be the one to drag him around school," he sneered. Harry cheered inwardly. "But that means your schedule must be changed to his," Snape continued. "An all Slytherin schedule. Are you prepared for that?"

Harry cringed. Slytherins. "Yes, sir," he replied.

"Fine. We'll leave you alone to discuss the basics then." Snape turned back to Malfoy, who was still decidedly confused. "Don't worry. I'll cure you as soon as possible."

Malfoy nodded slowly, as if trying to take it all in. "Okay. Where's Mother? Didn't she hear about my injury? Surely she would've come."

Snape looked pained. "She—she can't."

"Why?"

"Draco—"

"Why isn't she here?"

"Your parents are dead, Draco."

Malfoy shrunk back in horror. "What? How could they be dead? What happened?" Pain filled his eyes and Harry looked away, feeling somewhat ashamed. He was to blame for their deaths, after all. Apparently, he was to blame for a lot of things that were happening to Malfoy. The rush of guilt flooded him again.

Snape shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry," was all he managed. Then he turned and left the room, Dumbledore not far behind him. It was just Harry and Malfoy now. Harry stole a peek at Malfoy, but the other boy was turned away from him, still quiet. He bit his lip and fiddled with his sleeves nervously. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? His sworn enemy of 8 years had completely forgotten who he was, and now he was just sitting here, not sneering or taunting him at all. Harry had needed to reintroduce himself, for Merlin's sake! He hardly thought that introductions were necessary after having hexed each other more times over the years than Hermione had read Hogwarts, A History.It was just weird.

After a long while, Harry cautiously sat down on the bed next to the silent blond. "Hey, Malfoy?"

The other boy looked up at him, as if just noticing him. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you said that."

"Oh. How much do you know about yourself, right now?"

Malfoy tapped his chin and took a deep breath. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and I'm 19 years old. I've apparently been attending Hogwarts for 8 years now, I'm on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Blaise Zabini is my friend and you're not. And my parents are dead." He looked perplexed for a moment. "It's funny though. My father wanted me to befriend you. When I went to Hogwarts, I mean. So why aren't we friends?"

Harry sighed. "There were some complications."

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all, you were a jerk."

"Hey!"

"It's true. But I was stubborn, as well. We got in a bit of an argument, you see, and we never tried again. Plus, I got sorted into Gryffindor and you were in Slytherin. So that was the root of the dilemma there."

"Ah. So we disliked each other?"

Harry snorted. "'Dislike' is sort of a weak way of putting it."

Malfoy cocked his head. "Well, I don't see any reason to hate you right now. You seem pretty likeable to me."

Harry laughed a little. This was so weird. "Erm, thanks, Malfoy."

"Why do you keep calling me 'Malfoy'?"

Harry frowned, realising that Malfoy probably wasn't used to people calling him that all the time. He supposed that it wouldn't hurt to change it up for the time being, seeing as the other boy seemed pretty harmless at the moment. Still, it would be a massive alteration on his part. "Oh, um, I don't know. We usually call each other by our last names, I guess because we don't like each other."

"Well… I don't really like it. Can you call me Draco? I'll call you Harry."

"Um… Okay. Draco." The name felt peculiar as it rolled off his tongue. He decided it would probably take a while to get used to saying it, let alone thinking it. And for now, he supposed that it would be okay to think it the way he always had.

Malfoy—Draco—smiled, satisfied. "Good. So tell me, is there anything terribly important I need to know to go about my daily life?"

"Hm. Well, I don't know. I'm not sure how much of your studies you remember, if anything at all. We'll have to see. And you'll have to get your Slytherin password from a classmate. But other than that, I think you're good."

Malfoy looked pensive for a moment. "Did I have a girlfriend?"

Harry was startled by the question. He honestly didn't know whether Malfoy even had any sort of romantic interest in anyone at all, because that usually wasn't the type of thing he paid attention to when he was around the other boy. But it could have also been because he really hadn't been paying attention to the Slytherin this year. The idea of pre-accident Malfoy running around with some poor girl made Harry feel a bit queasy inside.

"No. At least, not that I know of. I reckon you had a couple during the years, but I can't recall them now."

"Oh."

"Do you want me to lead you back to Slytherin? I can't go in there of course, but I'm sure somebody'll be around to let you in."

"Um, okay."

Harry held out a hand and Malfoy took it, easing himself out of bed carefully. He looked a little wobbly at first, but after a few steps he was fine. Harry handed Malfoy his school robes and turned around to give him privacy while he changed. He stared at the white, pasty wall in front of him and resisted the urge to turn around and check if Malfoy had his wand out to his back, ready to hex him now that he was off guard. Fortunately, Malfoy did not hex him, and Harry found himself a bit more reassured than before.

And after Malfoy was done changing, Harry started to walk out of the room, but the Slytherin caught up to him and grabbed his arm. Surprised, Harry frowned at him. The blond squeezed him lightly. "I'm still a little shaky on my legs. And I'm feeling kinda mentally unstable, too," he joked.

Harry shrugged. The day was getting weirder by the minute. Not only were he and Malfoy getting along quite well, Malfoy was touching him and trusting him to help him ease back into his life. He was calling him 'Harry'. And Harry had to keep reminding himself that he had to think of the other boy as 'Draco', not Malfoy. It was utterly bizarre. Harry was constantly on edge, as if at any moment Malfoy would snap back into his old self and yank away from him, sneering and hexing him into the next century. And he felt a little bad that he was doing that, as well. He shuddered. Happy thoughts, Harry, he reminded himself.

On the way back, they passed several students, who stared at them as if hell had suddenly frozen over. Harry bit back a smile. They were probably quite a sight to see. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, mortal enemies, walking down the corridor arm in arm. What a show.

"What are they all staring at?" Malfoy whispered, looking a bit afraid as he glanced around at his surrounding classmates.

Harry laughed. "Us. Never in this lifetime had they thought they would witness the two of us together. Never."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "We hated each other that much? Over one little quarrel in first year?"

"Well, it was more than just one quarrel. But essentially, yes."

"How odd."

Harry sighed. "You're telling me."

They walked on through the corridors amongst whispers and people pointing at them. Harry could feel Malfoy's hand tensing around his forearm, and he suddenly felt the strange urge to pull the other boy in and protect him from the crowd with his body. He shook off the thought with a shake of his hair and looked up, immediately spotting two familiar faces coming towards them.

"Harry!" Hermione called, waving at him. Then she noticed Malfoy and stopped, bewilderment written all over her face. "And... Malfoy?"

Ron was there, too. "So Malfoy's out of the Hospital Wing," he observed. His mouth was twisted in disgust as if he'd just tasted a lemon. "Why are you helping him?"

Malfoy looked offended. "He's my guide. Aren't you, Harry?"

Both of his friends looked shocked. "Harry?" Ron repeated, a flabbergasted expression on his face.

"Um, yeah," Harry replied, giving them a look as if to say 'I'll explain later'. The two of them nodded, still looking a bit dazed. Harry would have been quite amused if he wasn't so flustered by the crowds of people who were adamantly staring at them right now. He tried not to make eye contact with surrounding students and kept his gaze firmly on his friends.

"Well then, all right… We'll see you later, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head at them, a curious glint in her eye. Ron just nodded dumbly.

"Bye," Harry called after them, still leading Malfoy towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Malfoy jerked his thumb in their direction. "Who were they?"

"Um, they're my friends, Ron and Hermione."

"Oh. Well, they're a bit rude."

Harry fought the urge to laugh. "Ah, but you've been even more so to them."

Malfoy looked surprised. "I have? How?"

"Let's not go into that right now. If you're going to be around me these days, they'll be around too. Which means we don't want to go back into the hating each other's guts phase."

"Okay, that makes sense. But they have to behave too, if I have to."

"I'll talk to them. You just worry about figuring yourself out."

They walked in silence until they reached the Slytherin portrait hole, and Harry nodded towards it. He'd never really been down here, before. Well, except for that one time in 2nd year. But that was irrelevant. And it wasn't as if he'd inspected the area quite thoroughly when he'd been there, anyway, it hadn't been some sort of guided tour.

"Well, here it is. Oh, Zabini!"

Harry waved at a tall, dark-haired boy walking by, recognising him as one of Draco's close friends. Zabini glanced at him offhandedly, and then at Malfoy next to him. His dark eyes widened.

"Draco!" He rushed over and put a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Are you okay? When did you get out of the Hospital Wing? Why didn't you contact me?" Malfoy just blinked at him, clearly confused at the flurry of questions being thrown at him.

Zabini frowned and looked at Harry. "What's wrong with him? Can't he speak?"

"Yes, I can speak," Malfoy said, sounding affronted. "But who are you?"

Zabini raised his eyebrows. "I'm Blaise, Draco's best friend. Who are you?"

Harry cut into the conversation, seeing that this would not end well without explanations. "Um, Zabini, Malfoy—I mean, Draco—has lost a bit of his memory. Well, I mean most memories. But we're working on it right now. Don't worry about it, we just need you to show him around the common room and get him back into the swing of Slytherin things, or whatever it is you guys do."

Zabini narrowed his eyes at him. "So what are you doing here? This is your fault!"

Harry sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry, okay? I'm to help him get back to his life."

Zabini scoffed. "You? I'm his best friend, it should be me helping him. Sod off, Potter."

"And you will! With the stuff I can't help him with. Like, what goes on in there, for instance," he nodded towards the portrait hole, trying not to shudder.

"He doesn't need you if he's got me," Zabini argued.

Harry was about to counter that with a not-so-nice remark, but Malfoy held his hands up in mediation first. "Wait, wait. If you're my best friend, Blaise,I'm sure I'll want you to be there for me. But I also want Harry to help me, as well."

Zabini's mouth dropped open. "Harry? Why did you just—?"

Harry shook his head. "Never mind that. Look, Zabini. We don't like each other. But he wants us both to help him, so we're going to have to find a way to work together on this."

Zabini ignored him and turned to Malfoy. "I don't understand why you want his help. Don't you remember that you hate him?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't. But I have been informed by many people today that I did. I don't really care, though. He's been nothing but accommodating to me so far, so I'm sticking with him." Then he leaned in and whispered something in Zabini's ear. Whatever it was he said, it made Zabini's eyes pop out of his head.

"What the hell? Draco!"

"What? It's true!"

Harry cleared his throat, feeling somewhat uncomfortable standing there beside the two Slytherins whispering who-knows-what in each others' ears. He'd had enough for one day. "All right… Now that we've got that covered, I'm just going to leave now. You can handle it, right Zabini?"

The other boy rolled his eyes. "Duh. Go away."

Malfoy turned and grinned at him. "Thanks, Harry," he said.

Harry gave him a tight smile back. "Uh, no problem. See you later, Draco."

He shook his head and walked away, heading back towards the Gryffindor common room to talk to his probably still-shocked friends. Hell, he was still a bit shocked himself. Malfoy was quite a nice bloke without all the scowling and smirking, it was scary, almost. If he'd had only known that this was underneath all the little Malfoy games... He shook his head. Man, this was going to be one hell of an experience.

~x~

Draco followed Blaise into the Slytherin common room, glancing around in awe and taking in his surroundings. The room was decorated in Slytherin green colors, with grey brick walls and long, black tapestries covering them. There was a large fireplace crackling somewhat dismally in the centre, with two black leather couches facing each other on either side of it. And in the back there were two pairs of stairways leading up to what he supposed were the boys' and girls' dormitories. It was a lot fancier than he'd ever expected Hogwarts to be. Reminded him a bit of home, actually.

"Nice place," he commented, shivering slightly. "A little cold, though."

Blaise laughed. "You'll get used to it. Come on, I'll show you to our dorm."

Draco followed the other boy up one of the staircases and into the first room on the left. "Here we are."

It was decent sized, a place that was very much similar to Draco's own back at the Manor, which was why he figured it felt so comfortable to him. The walls were brick as they were in the common room, and there were five large, four-poster beds with forest green curtains around them. A miniature version of the common room's fireplace was burning quietly in the back. He walked over to the nearest bed that had a trunk sitting at the foot of it labeled D.M.and tilted his head quizzically.

"So this is mine?" he asked.

Blaise nodded. "Yeah. Mine's to the left of yours, and next to me is Nott, and next to him is Goyle."

Draco frowned. "Don't know who Nott is, but I do know Goyle. He was my friend from before Hogwarts." He glanced around. "That's only four of us. Who's the fifth?"

Blaise grimaced. "That was Crabbe's," he murmured.

Draco felt an odd twist in his stomach at the tone of the other boy's voice, but didn't think to question it. "Crabbe. He was my friend, too. Where did he go?"

Blaise gave him a look that said he didn't want to talk about it. "He didn't come back this year," he responded vaguely, walking over and sitting on Draco's bed.

Draco joined him. "All right… Listen, Blaise. I don't remember anything regarding this place, so I'm not going to try and pretend that I understand a lot of what you're talking about here. I don't even remember our friendship, but I'm sure it was a good one. It was a good one, right?"

Blaise sighed. "We were as good of friends as Slytherins can be, Draco. I'm sure you're aware that us snakes aren't the most trustworthy companions. But I have to say, you and I come very close."

Draco nodded slowly, feeling a bit sad. He didn't have any true friends? He'd have to fix that. He glanced around, trying desperately to recognise something that would trigger some sort of memory for him, but he could feel nothing. Nothing felt real to him anymore. The swirl of emotions rushing through him didn't even feel real, they felt whimsical, far away, even. Like they weren't even his own.

"I'm not sure of anything right now," he muttered offhandedly, causing his friend to glance at him sharply.

Blaise patted his knee. "I'm sorry. All I can do is try to help you through this."

Draco sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, which was oddly devoid of any sort of gel at all. "The strange thing is, I'm not entirely ignorant. I know I'm 19. I know that I've had an education, I've had schooling, and that I'm here. It's just, I can't remember how I've done it. The last thing I recall is a memory from when I was 11, but it's not like I believe I'm still there as an 11 year old boy. It's as if I've fast forwarded in a blink of an eye and skipped all of the in between."

Blaise studied him for a moment. "It's as if you've gone mad," he remarked.

Draco shook his head. "But I don't feel it. When I woke up, I didn't feel like anything was off. Not until everybody told me something was off, did I realise it."

"It must be crazy for you, how we're all trying to carve out your life. I mean, it's weird for me too, because you seem completely different than you were before. I mean, you're hanging around with Potter, voluntarily!"

Draco laughed. "I know. But he doesn't seem like such a bad bloke, really. I don't know why I hated him."

"Well, you thought he was stuck up, for one. He's got a lot of fans because he's a big hero, blah, blah, blah. He's hotheaded and easy to provoke, so you loved taunting him about nearly everything. His glasses, his scar, his friends, his parents. I think you've covered it all over the years. And he had every girl yearning after him, which annoyed you to no end. But of course, that didn't matter after 5th year when you started batting for the other team, if you know what I mean."

Draco stared at him. "Um, no. What do you mean?"

Blaise grinned. "You discovered you were gay, of course."

"What? I'm not gay!"

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"Please, I've listened to enough of your stories about excruciatinglydetailed conquests over many summers to know that yes, you are gay. Now shut up, we were talking about Potter."

Draco shook his head in disbelief. How could he not remember something as big as he was gay? And how did he discover that anyhow? Well, he knew it wasn't by being a perfect family role model, obviously. Father was going to flip when he—

Oh yeah. He was dead. Draco felt his chest tighten, and his eyelashes suddenly felt wet with unexpected tears. And so was Mother. The misery from earlier flooded through him in a flash, but he tried not to show it.

"What happened to my parents?" He blurted out suddenly. Blaise looked up at him in surprise and sympathy.

"Well, they're—"

"Yes, I know they're dead. But how?"

Blaise looked at the floor. "Well, that was what I was getting to with Potter."

"He killed them?"

"Well, no, not exactly. His side killed him."

"His side?"

"Yeah. Of the war."

Draco gaped at him. "There was a war?"

Blaise nodded, his skin turning a slightly ashy colour. "You remember the story of Harry Potter, yes?"

"Of course, he defeated the darkest wizard of all time when he was baby."

"Right. So you see, during our time here at Hogwarts, everywhere that Potter went and everything that he did seemed to spark some kind of trouble. Every year there was something else. First year, there was that troll, and some weird incident regarding Professor Quirrell. Then the next year, there was the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk going on a rampage… and then there was the convicted murderer Sirius Black out to get him, and the Triwizard Tournament with the dragons and merpeople and all that shit—the list goes on forever, really. But the point is that he attracted a bunch of trouble."

Draco raised his eyebrows, impressed. "He survived all that?"

"Yeah. But then sometime around our 5th year, it was announced that Voldemort—the Dark Wizard—was back, and he was out to get Potter for you know, killing him but apparently not really killing him. Stupid git. Anyways, then you and your family went in support of the Dark Lord, and Potter was obviously on the opposing side. And that's when the real hatred started to kick in."

Draco was shocked. His family had been in support of the darkest wizard of all time? His family had been against Harry? He was surprised that Harry was even giving him a second look right now, if they were really as hostile towards each other as they were made out to be. And now it really was clear why all those people were staring at them in the hallway as if they'd seen a ghost. He shook his head. What a mess.

"It was all about pureblood power, you know. I even supported it for a while, just because I was in Slytherin and it was socially acceptable for us to. You were all into it, telling us all about what your father had preached to you about pureblood superiority and nonsense. I admit, it was a bad time for us."

Draco bit his lip. "Then what happened? How did the war end?"

Blaise sighed. "About a year ago, when Potter finally defeated him. Here, at Hogwarts. Don't really know how it happened, he was gone for a whole school year, and then he just showed up and fought him. I heard he was searching for something of Voldemort's, but I'm not really clear on that. You should ask him sometime. Anyway, there was a massive battle, lots of bloodshed—I don't know. I didn't participate in it, myself. See, I was technically neutral as of 6th year, but you and I were still friends, I suppose. We became better friends this year, considering us Slytherins had to stick together."

"And my parents?"

Blaise shrugged. "They were both killed in battle, to my greatest knowledge. And we're in our 8th year of school now since most 7th years were either not present or killed, and us survivors are basically getting the chance to receive our 7th year education because our studies were cut off because of the war. Well, the ones who chose to come back and receive it, anyways. Dumbledore makes sure that the rest of the population lets the Slytherins back here with as much acceptance as possible, but the first few months have been rough. We've both had our fair share of hexes and anger directed at us."

Draco frowned. "But you were neutral."

"Doesn't matter. I'm a Slytherin. To them, we were all Death Eaters."

"Wow."

Draco didn't really know what else to say. How had all that gone on and he couldn't remember a single bit of it? It was as if Blaise were telling him a fictional story, not his own life. What kind of person had he been to go off and do what he'd done? He didn't want to imagine the horrors that he had to have committed during the war, surely they would have been terrible and immoral. He shuddered, trying his hardest not to think about it. Was it possible to be afraid of yourself?

Blaise nodded. "And that's pretty much all that you need to know about the war. Potter's considered the Saviour of the Wizarding World, you know. A true celebrity. And you've steered clear of him this entire year, no taunts, nothing. Even so, I'm surprised that he's so insistent on helping you."

Draco shrugged. "He probably feels bad about the bludger thing."

"Yeah, I suppose. That looked incredibly painful."

"Didn't I fall off my broom when I got hit? The impact of a fall like that would probably be fatal."

"No, Potter caught you before you fell too far. He may be an idiot, but he's got fast reflexes."

"Oh. Well, that's good."

Draco paused, thinking back to what Blaise had informed him of earlier about his sexuality. Then he frowned, wondering why it didn't bother him all that much. He'd always thought that he'd grow up and marry some beautiful girl to keep up the proud Malfoy line. He'd imagined a life where he'd take his father's place as the Head of the Family and teach his children the same lessons that he'd been taught as a child. But he supposed that it clearly hadn't worked the first time around, and besides, it didn't really matter anyways. Being gay wasn't a big deal.

"So I haven't had a girlfriend since I figured out I was... not straight."

Blaise shook his head. "Nope."

"Boyfriend?"

"No way. You were a one night stand kind of man."

"That is lovely."

"Guess that explains a lot, doesn't it? Like why you felt the need to tell me that you thought Potter was 'fit'?"

Draco laughed. "Yeah, I hadn't known where that came from, surprised me just as much as you. Glad to know that I probably thought that before the accident too, so I'm not just touched in the head... well, not metaphorically, at least. But it's true. He is cute."

Blaise scrunched his nose up in disgust. "Yeah, thanks for the mental images now. And I wouldn't say you're completely untouched, but yes, I suppose he is all right, for a scrawny little hero boy. You're lucky he didn't hear you, though. He probably would've punched you in the face for that."

"He's straight?"

"As a board. His girlfriend is Ginevra Weasley."

Draco frowned. "Weasley? As in the redhead family?"

"Yeah, the one you hated and still hate, for the record."

"Not for the same reasons, I presume?"

"No, you just hate them. A bit of a habit, I guess. We don't really talk about the whole pureblood thing anymore, as it's obviously a bit of a touchy subject, you know."

Draco bit his lip to keep from giggling, which he didn't believe would be a very Slytherin thing for him to do. "Well, I think I'm going to hate her for dating him."

"Ew. You're not going to develop some sort of crush on him, are you? Because only sappy little teenage girls have crushes on Harry Potter."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I may not remember much, but I know that I, Draco Malfoy, am not sappy, little, or a girl. I am a teenager though, so that criteria counts for something." The other boy gave him a disgusted look, so he laughed. "I'm kidding, all right? Just because I think he's fit doesn't mean that I'm going to start hanging all over him. Honestly."

Blaise sighed in relief. "Good. Don't want you to get all Gryffindor on me."

Draco smiled. "Of course not, Blaise."

If only he could remember how one could possibly get 'all Gryffindor' on somebody else.

Author's Note: Okay, so that was long. What do you think so far? I'm not quite sure about the title of this yet, so I'm just using something temporary for now. If any of you have suggestions about what to call it, or if I should just keep the temporary name, you can let me know… by reviewing ;)

… Was that subtle enough? Asking for reviews? Ah well, I tried.