Warning: Themes of angst, moderate slash, swearing, suicide (minor character), etc.
Pairing: The only pairing I ever do, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. A few sub-pairings of Ron/Hermione, attempted Ginny/Harry (and by attempted, I mean only attempted)
Summary: Harry finds a spell that will allow him to have one day with no consequences because no one will remember it, including him. But things happen that he could never have predicted. Does he really want to forget after all is said and done? HPDM, 6th, no HBP
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, etc, etc. I do own the poetry featured here, though.
One Perfect Something
Pieces of You
October 20 . . .
At supper that night, Dumbledore made the announcement about the uniforms. The Great Hall broke into applause, although most of the teachers looked less than thrilled. They would have to put up with the outrageous outfits their students wore all of the time instead of once a week? It would be torture, pure torture!
Harry rolled his eyes at the enthusiasm of the student body, instead focusing on pushing his food around on his plate. Once again, he wasn't hungry, but he didn't want his friends to notice that. He'd already almost had Hermione on his case at breakfast because she'd noticed he was only eating a single piece of toast.
"Harry, why aren't you eating?" a concerned, feminine voice asked him.
Damn it, he'd thought it was working. He turned to Hermione, a lie ready on the tip of his tongue. "I had a snack while you guys were at Hogsmeade, and I guess it filled me up more than I'd thought."
She bought it, and he should have been relieved, but for some odd reason, he wasn't. He was angry that she'd believed it so easily. Confused, he set down his fork and let his eyes wander the room. Smiles adorned the faces of many students, but there was one person whose face remained stony, impassive. Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table, his silverware untouched and his plate empty. Instead of eating and enjoying the inane chatter going on, he had his head propped on his hand and was observing everyone else. Like Harry.
His eyes were ice cold and empty, and Harry knew that he was curled up deep inside himself. With the snow in his eyes, he pretended that he was merely acting arrogant and superior, like he always did, even though it wasn't the truth. Why hadn't Harry seen the truth before?
Disturbed that he had made an insight about the boy he'd hated for over five years, Harry looked away. Little did he know that Malfoy had actually been covertly watching him, anger swelling in his breast that yet again perfect Potter had lived up to his name, that yet again he had pretended to be the innocent Gryffindor who knew not of depression. The resentment burned inside the cold-eyed Slytherin as he saw his rival slide off the hook easily, like he always did.
An idea rose to the surface, and Draco smirked. He would unmask Potter for the tortured and depressed youth he was. He would show everyone just how dark their Golden Boy really was. It was a perfect plan and it would make him feel better, especially after that incident earlier when Potter had so rudely maligned him. He ignored the small tendril of protest that rose up in his mind; he refused to feel regret for his actions, especially regret towards Saint Potter.
After supper, Draco warded off Pansy's advances and waited for the Golden Trio to leave the Great Hall. Really, he was not interested in Pansy's generous attributes and did not want to go up to her dorm and have meaningless sex with her. First of all, she looked like a pug with breasts, and second, he was completely homosexual. Besides, he had to follow Potter and his friends so he could start that lovely fight with the Boy Wonder.
He lazily followed the three Gryffindors out into the corridor, smirking at how easy this was going to be. Granger was admonishing the Weasel about homework or something ridiculous like that; really, they were in sixth year and the idiot was not about to change his ways and become a good student. Potter lagged behind the pair, his eyes on the ground and his shoulders hunched. If his friends cared to look behind them, they'd become rightly worried. But they didn't, and so Potter got away with his wretched hiding yet again.
Oh, how that was going to change!
"Hey Pot-head, is it true that if someone falls through the Veil, they fall forever?" He decided to start with something tame. On the verbal cruelty scale, it would have rated a two out of five.
Potter didn't look up; instead he stopped moving and his shoulders tensed. His friends turned around, though, twin glares on their faces. Eh, it was a start. Now for a three out of five. "I heard that it's hell because they know they're falling, but they can't do anything to stop it, and it never ends."
This time, the raven-haired Gryffindor lifted his head to set blazing emerald eyes on him. They burned fiercely with hatred. Draco's smirk grew. "How does it feel to know that you were the one to cause his fall?" Four out of five. Working on someone's guilt was pretty harsh, and Draco loved it.
The fire in Potter's eyes flared even hotter and he opened his lips to growl, "Don't you dare speak about this to me, Malfoy! Your father was as much to blame!"
Draco felt a twist in his gut at the mention of Lucius. He hated that bastard for what he'd done to him and despised any mention of the man. It never ceased to infuriate him. But this confrontation was about Potter, not him. He wasn't about to let the Golden Boy turn this onto him. "True, but you loved the mutt. Lucius didn't. Doesn't the guilt just eat at you?"
Weasley interrupted any reply Harry might have made, and reply Harry would have, with an insult to burn even the cruelest person's ears. Draco wanted to hear it, knew it would have been good, but Weasley just had to interfere. "Shut up, Malfoy! You're a nasty git who deserves to rot in Azkaban with your bastard of a father!"
Heat burned in Draco's stomach and he clenched his fists. How dare that fuckwit of a Gryffindor say that to him? He had never done anything remotely deserving of being sent to Azkaban! He couldn't help the words that slipped off his tongue. "I don't now, but with a flick of my wand I would. And I'd have the pleasure of seeing your rotting corpse, so it'd be worth it. Ready to test me?"
At the mention of killing someone, Harry's anger exploded. He'd seen enough death, and he knew Malfoy was pissed off enough to do something like that. He'd regret it, since he wouldn't be able to carry out his Death Eater duties, but he'd do if pushed hard enough. And Ron was enough of an idiot to push him past his limit. Harry lunged at the Slytherin, hell in his eyes. "That wand comes out of your pocket and I will fucking murder you first!"
He didn't see the flash of satisfaction in Malfoy's eyes as his fist connected with his chin. All he knew was that he wanted to pummel the prat. He knew his friends had to be horrified that he was the one to start the physical violence, especially when an insult would have worked just as well, but he didn't care. Malfoy was going down. He'd had enough of the arrogant fucker messing with him and his friends when he had no right to.
Draco had to hide a smile of glee as he punched Potter in the nose. Then the sound of the cartilage breaking and the sight of the blood pouring down his face was enough to make that smile appear. "Aw, does that hurt, Potty?"
The Golden Boy then proceeded to shove him as hard as he could, which was pretty hard. Draco went flying into the unyielding stone of the wall behind him, his head meeting the indestructible surface with a crack. He slid down the wall, suddenly too weak to stand. He felt dizzy and saw black spots in his vision. Still, he was happy that he'd gotten Potter to break. And this move, actually tossing someone against a wall, would horrify his goody-goody friends. Good.
Then he lost consciousness.
Harry stared at what he'd done with horror in his emerald eyes. He hadn't meant to throw Malfoy against the wall! Hearing his friends' choked cries, he gulped. They'd seen him lost control; now they knew that he wasn't fine. They knew!
Swallowing his fear at the fact that his game was up, he hurried over to Malfoy and knelt beside the unconscious boy. He touched his hand to the back of the Slytherin's head and it came away wet with blood; very wet. He cringed and quickly moved to gather him in his arms. Surprised at how light he was for his height of approximately 5'11, he carried him down the corridor towards the infirmary. Hermione and Ron didn't follow.
Madame Pomfrey was furious when he walked through the infirmary doors. She immediately made him set Malfoy onto a bed and began a scan of his injuries. The bruise forming on his chin and the bad wound on his head were enough to tip her off that there had been another fight. Her lips pursed into a thin line and her eyes cold, she healed the wounds. Then she turned to Harry, a glare rightfully aimed at him. "You could have killed him if you'd thrown him even a fraction harder! Have you no sense!"
He looked at the ground, unable to meet her irate gaze. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."
A hand went to wipe the blood that was seeping from his nose and into his mouth, but it was the hand he'd checked Malfoy's wound with, and so he only smeared Malfoy's blood with his own. He looked at his hand, frowning and not just a little bit dizzy. He hadn't thought Malfoy had hit him that hard.
The nurse sighed and healed his broken nose. Unfortunately, she couldn't heal his dizziness, and so she forced him into the bed beside the Malfoy boy's. "You'll have to stay the night since I don't want you traveling the halls alone and dizzy. You could fall down the stairs and then there'd be more work for me and . . ."
Continuing her rant, she stalked away and into her office. Harry knew she would brew a hot cup of tea in an attempt to calm down. It would probably work. Although she was strict, she was a warm-hearted person at the core.
He pulled the starched white sheets up to his chin and turned over. Being dizzy sure made him tired. With guilt fresh in his mind, over Sirius and now over Malfoy, he slipped into a restless sleep, an odd thought swirling in his mind, I could swear that's the second time I've carried Malfoy to the infirmary after tossing him into a wall . . .
Several hours later, Harry awoke in the darkness to the feeling that something wasn't right. Frowning, he sat up and fumbled for his glasses. It was after a few moments' search that he realized that they were still on his face. Muttering at what an idiot he was, he turned on the lamp beside his bed and gasped. Malfoy was gone!
His eyes quickly sought out the nearest clock and saw that it was one AM. So, why was Malfoy not in his bed? Especially since he should still have been dizzy and lightheaded from his obvious concussion?
He didn't know, but then he noticed a piece of parchment lying amidst the rumpled sheets of the infirmary cot. Slipping off his single sheet, Harry got out of his bed and made his way over to look at the paper. There were tiny wet spots on the parchment, and Harry got an awful feeling in his chest. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. Malfoy never cried.
Clumsily, he picked up the sheet of paper and began reading:
To Draco L. Malfoy,
St. Mungo's Hospital regrets to inform you that patient Narcissa O. Malfoy, admitted to the Psychiatric Ward on June 29 of this year for severe clinical depression and schizophrenic tendencies, committed suicide at ten thirty-seven on October 20. Earlier in the day, Mrs. Black suffered from a schizophrenic episode in which she believed she was pregnant and was being tortured with the Cruciatius curse. It is believed that the aftereffects of this episode caused the onset of a severe depressive episode and Mrs. Black committed suicide by leaping from the roof of the hospital building. A suicide note was left, and it reads as follows:
Dearest Draco,
I cannot live with myself any longer. The guilt of my deeds and those of your father eat away at my soul, and I know that there is nothing I can do to erase their foul presence. Tonight, I will end this pain.
Please do not believe that you have in any way caused my suffering. You are the one joy in my life. You give my life meaning when there would be none at all. I know that my death will hurt you, and it is another abominable deed that I feel guilty for. But I cannot bear to live any longer, no matter how much I love you.
All I ask is that you do not follow in the steps of your parents. There are some things that taint your soul beyond repair, and that is not something I wish for you. Live your life right and do not bow before anyone's command. You are a Malfoy, remember that. Remember what that name meant before your father almost destroyed it.
Your loving mother,
Narcissa
Mrs. Black's personal effects have been entrusted into the care of Gringott's and you may pick them up at your convenience.
We are sorry for your loss.
St. Mungo's Hospital
Harry stared at the letter, his stomach churning. He knew that Narcissa had not been schizophrenic at all and that it was almost one hundred percent likely that she had been hit with the Cruciatius curse while pregnant. But he also knew that information like that was probably not something the Malfoys had wanted anyone to know, and so the schizophrenic diagnosis was a perfect excuse for any damaging flashbacks.
He tossed the piece of parchment back onto Malfoy's abandoned infirmary bed, feeling worse than he had in months. Yes, his own problems were pretty bad, but Malfoy's were worse. His father was in Azkaban, and there were rumors he would be receiving the Dementor's Kiss soon. His mother had been admitted to the psychiatric ward of St. Mungo's soon after Lucius' sentencing, and now she had committed suicide. Draco had to be in bad shape.
Uncaring that it was Malfoy who had said some really cruel things earlier, that it was Malfoy that was his hated rival, he left to infirmary to go find the boy who was probably in danger of doing something stupid. One did not leave someone whose parent had just committed suicide alone.
Once outside the infirmary, Harry realized two things; he didn't have the Marauder's Map, and he was very far from Gryffindor Tower where it was located. He sighed, wondering how the hell he'd find Malfoy. Luckily, he remembered the Point-Me spell they had learned a while back. Pulling out his wand, he spoke the spell and began following the direction his wand led him.
He wandered the corridors for twenty minutes, until he came upon a small courtyard on the first floor. It was almost hidden by the outcropping of two corners of the building, and Harry would not have found it if he wasn't led to it. It was perfect for someone to break down in and have no one be the wiser.
Lie awake in bed at night
Think about your lifeDo you want to be different
Draco stood in the center of the courtyard, and it was raining. His clothes were soaked clear through, but he didn't look like he cared. His face was turned towards the angry skies, and he was shouting at it. Well, not at it, but towards it. Pain was evident in his hoarse voice, broken by the sheer intensity of his emotions and the fact that he had probably been yelling for quite a while. Harry knew from experience, and he felt sympathy for the other boy.
" . . . No matter what I do, it's never good enough, is it? I try and I try, but you keep piling shit on me as if it's my fault my parents were fucking Death Eaters! It's not my fault! I didn't ask for them to go around murdering people who did nothing but be lesser than them! And I don't want to be like them! So why are you punishing me? Why! I can't take it anymore! I can't take it!"
Try to let go of the truth
The battles of your youth
Harry stepped into the wet courtyard, stunned that Malfoy felt so strongly about the Death Eaters as he did. He'd had no idea that he was so against becoming one of them. He'd mistakenly thought, like everyone else, that he would grow up to be just like his parents.
Cuz this is just a game
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
How wrong he'd been.
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
So beautiful so, beautiful that makes me
Malfoy must have had a sixth sense or something, because he stopped yelling and turned to face him. Despair and sorrow twisted his face, and his eyes were almost dead with the pain that lurked in their silver depths. He attempted a sneer, but failed miserably. "What, come to gloat about how the stupid ferret deserves all of this?"
Harry shook his head. "What would be the point? I know the truth, and it's that no one deserves pain like this."
Malfoy fell to his knees, defeated. Harry knew that tears dripped down his face, mixing with the rain. "Then why won't it stop?"
The raven-haired Gryffindor had no answer for him because he asked himself the same question every day. Why wouldn't the pain stop?
It's time to forget about the past
To wash away what happened lastSilence settled between them as the rain fell harder. Lightening streaked across the sky and thunder crashed in the heavens, and they ignored it all. The world could have been ending, and they wouldn't have noticed. Their inner pain was too great.
After several minutes, how many, they did not know, Draco lifted his glistening eyes to lock with his rival's. Harry hadn't even noticed he was starting to cry himself. "I picked that fight with you on purpose today. I didn't mean what I said, but I wanted you to fight me. I wanted you to hurt me."
Harry stared at him, frozen. "Why?" Why would Malfoy deliberately provoke him? Why would Malfoy want him to hurt him?
"Because I hated that you felt the same pain I felt and yet you got away with hiding it like the good, little Golden Boy you are. I hated that no one knew how dark you really are. You're not their toy soldier, and I hated that you pretended to be. You're not their savior. You're not," the silver-eyed Slytherin told him, his voice raspy and filled with emotion.
Hide behind that empty face
But that's too much to say
Cuz this is just a game
Harry was taken aback by the sincerity in Malfoy's voice, and unbidden, a thought drifted to the surface of his mind. He's right. I am not their savior. And he was right. Draco Malfoy, son of the devil's right hand, and his enemy for almost six years, was right. He gazed into his molten silver eyes and realized why he felt that insane attraction to him. Out of all of the people he knew, Draco was the only one who understood him. He was the only one willing to dig past his mask and see the boy who wasn't the savior of the wizarding world. He was the only one who was honest to the point of brutality with him. Never, had he lied directly to him.
Wasn't it ironic? His friends lied to him, but his enemy hadn't.
Harry's emerald eyes slid from the blond's, unable to withstand the truth burning there. He dropped his head and stared down at the glistening wet cobblestones of the courtyard. Softly, almost whispering, he spoke, "You're right. I'm not their savior, but at the same time, I can't escape that destiny. Fate has dictated that I destroy Voldemort or die. How can I conscience letting such evil devastate everything that I've ever valued? How? Tell me, and maybe then I could stop being their bloody savior."
It's a beautiful lie
It's a perfect denial
He could taste the salt running into the corners of his mouth and he swallowed harshly. Why was he saying this to Malfoy? Why was he letting him in?
Shivering at the biting wind that had suddenly sprung up, he wrapped his arms around himself. He disregarded the fact that the wind had not changed in the several minutes he had been outside, and that his trembling was caused by something else. Something internal.
Such a beautiful lie to believe in
So beautiful, beautiful lie that makes me
Malfoy's voice carried across the courtyard, closer than before, and Harry looked up into stormy gray eyes. "I guess you can't, but you can stop pretending to be the perfectly innocent and happy hero that everyone wants you to be. You aren't some idol they can worship, Potter. You're a goddamned sixteen year old with shitty luck, and that's all. Why do you fucking care what they think of you? Will having them find out you're not some Golden Boy like they want make you any less able to defeat the Dark Lord? Do you really think that?"
Everyone's looking at me
I'm running around in circles
Harry quirked an eyebrow, a sardonic glint in his emerald eyes. "Why do you care so much about what people think of you?"
A light flush appeared on the other boy's high cheekbones, apparent even in the dim lighting of the courtyard. "I'm a Malfoy. I have to be the way I am."
A quiet desperation's building higher
"And because I am the fucking Boy Wonder, as I've heard you call me before, I have to be the way I am, too," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. They were starting to go in circles. Each asked the other why they were the way they were, and each replied with the answer that caused the questioning in the first place. It was a game.
I've got to remember this is just a game
It was a game, but both refused to let the other win. They refused to back down, even though they knew, they knew, the other was right. It was a game, a beautiful game they could not lose. A beautiful, torturous game they could not afford to lose.
So beautiful, so beautifulThe sky lit up suddenly, throwing Malfoy's aristocratic features into stark relief. Harry's only thought just then was that he was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. The attraction for the other boy seared his nerve endings, his image burning itself into Harry's brain.
It's a beautiful, a beautiful, beautifulAnd by the look in the other's liquid silver eyes, he knew the attraction wasn't one-sided. Thrilled and terrified at the same time, he took a stumbling step backwards. His breathing stuttered and his heart pounded. His eyes were trapped by Malfoy's molten orbs of glittering desire.
So beautiful, beautifulWhy couldn't he look away? He should be running far, far away as fast as he could. Why wasn't he moving? His limbs were frozen. He couldn't move.
Why couldn't he move?
It's a beautiful, so beautiful, beautifulWhy did he feel like seeing that terrible, beautiful look in Malfoy's eyes was the most natural thing in the world?
No. This wasn't possible. This wasn't natural. He hated Malfoy. Malfoy hated him.
It's a beautiful lie"I hate you," he whispered brokenly. Why was he moving towards him?
It's a perfect denialMalfoy was moving towards him, too. "I know you do. I hate you just as much."
Such a beautiful lie to believe in"Then why?" His voice was a mere murmur, torn up with emotion, with unvoiced questions attempting to make themselves known in those two words. Then why? Why?
So beautiful, beautiful that makes me"You're so beautiful, did you know that? I hate you so much, I want to make you bleed, but I want you so much, I want to make you scream for me."
Harry had the oddest feeling that Malfoy had said something of the same sort before. But where? And why? Where were these strange, half-memories coming from?
He sighed, and it was a gasping sound. "I can't. I can't do this."
Both of them knew that he meant something entirely different. They both knew he was talking about everything else; everything else, not this. Not this.
"Then don't."
"I have to! You know I have to!"
It was a game. Their stupid, fucking game.
They both knew they had to do it.
They knew.
And they died a little more inside.
Standing inches apart in the cold rain, the sky crashing its fury above them, they killed off a little more of themselves.
Afterwards, neither would remember how long they stood there in the rain, only that it seemed like an eternity. It was an eternity they wished would never end.
But end it did, and as the sky began to lighten with the coming dawn, they parted ways. With their masks firmly in place and their hearts maybe a little more tender than usual, they made their way back into reality. Alone, and knowing that they would never speak of the night in the rain to anyone.
He is the one they call the savior;
he is the one who will end it all
With his heart of gold
and his sword so brave,
he will save them.
But they don't know that
in the dark of night, he cries
He can't save them; he can't even save himself.
He is all alone, but they don't know that.
His friends stand by his side, ready to fight,
but he is alone.
He must save them.
With his heart of gold
and his sword so brave
and his tears in the night
and his lonely self,
He will save them.
He must save them.
He doesn't want to save them.
But he will save them.
Influences: My Chemical Romance and Staind
This chapter was originally not supposed to end like this, in fact, the entire last two pages were added on when I realized I wasn't happy with my first ending. This ending fits much better, even though I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Believe me when I say that I didn't mean to add another song into the story, but it just fit so well that I had to use it. It's another song by 30 Seconds to Mars (of course!) and I love it almost as much as the one I used earlier in the story.
So, they've acknowledged their mutual attraction, but no slash and they've basically decided that they can't act upon that attraction. Sorry to all you people craving action, but this had to happen. Every step forward always involves some sort of step backward. Next chapter will be more promising, I swear!
Did you enjoy the longer chapter, especially after the short one last chapter?
The poem featured in this chapter is an original work, so don't steal it.
I attempted to write a professional-sounding letter from the hospital to Draco, but I know there were aspects that a real letter wouldn't have, such as Narcissa's suicide note, but I needed to add that in to give more background on the situation. And yes, I know letters are not usually sent at night, but if Draco gave the hospital an order to notify him immediately of any incidents with Narcissa, a nighttime letter would be perfectly normal. I would also like to apologize for the poor job I did at writing Narcissa's suicide note. I've never written one, nor have seen a real one, so I just made up what I thought could work. I hope it was at least a little bit believable.
Well, this is all I have to say about this chapter. Thank you for all of the encouraging reviews I've received thus far! They really make my day brighter! So, please review this one, too.
Have a great day,
Roslyn.
