Extra Scenes #2
Contents
· Day 178, Thursday, March 25 to Day 183, Tuesday, March 30, Various POVs, "Draco's memories aren't nearly as hazy as he'd like them to be. He's considered Obliviating them."
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Day 178, Thursday, March 25 to Day 183, Tuesday, March 30
The last thing Harry remembers is that he'd been laughing at something Seamus had said at dinner. They were at the Gryffindor table, for the third meal since they'd been bonded again, and Harry had stopped worrying what Draco was going to do with no friends or house around him because there was no point talking about it. He'd cast his lot in with Harry and his friends, and there was no point trying to pretend anything different. He wasn't being terribly friendly to any of the Gryffindors, but that was all right; they still hadn't heard from his father, were waiting for the axe to fall in the form of yet another Prophet headline, and it was understandable that Draco wouldn't want to talk very much right now.
Seamus had just finished the punchline to his hag, hippogriff and selkie joke, and Harry had laughed and turned to Draco in time to catch a half-amused glimmer in his eyes before Draco suddenly gasped and put a hand to his chest, dropping his glass of pumpkin juice. Harry felt the shock and grabbed Draco's hand, and instinctively pulled Draco to him as if he could physically take the pain and transfer it from Draco to himself.
Draco's mark.
Draco's last memory is of tepid pumpkin juice, and an irate thought that Malfoy house elves would never allow pumpkin juice to sit until it got warm. Or perhaps he'd just noticed for the tenth time that it was odd how, even though he didn't belong at the Gryffindor table, he felt a damn sight more relaxed here than he had in the three weeks that he'd been a pariah at Slytherin. Feeling like a long nightmare of exclusion and fog that had begun the day his father had disowned him was finally lifting.
And then a burst of flame. Flame from the mark that had sat like a curse-mine on his chest ever since his father had put it there.
Hermione remembers only a slight worry over her Arithmancy test the next day, and then Malfoy suddenly gasping and a shattered glass on the floor and Harry moving lightning-fast to grab Malfoy as his eyes closed tightly and he drew in on himself, hand to his chest, Harry's arms encircling him.
Oh my god-
Fuck!
Malfoy!
What the-
Draco!
Pale faces around the table, a buzz going around the Great Hall and teachers getting up, so much like that day so long ago when they both collapsed, except this time Snape and McGonagall were rushing to the same table and neither boy was unconscious, and Snape looked half-livid and half-nauseated, unconsciously rubbing his forearm, and none of them could touch either boy, what with the bond having just been renewed. Harry murmuring quickly to Malfoy. Malfoy's breathing laboured, his body rigid, his forehead against Harry's and his eyes clenched tight.
Harry's memories of the next five days are mercifully blurred, and he hopes Draco's are even more so. The effect of the mark ranged from mild irritation to dull ache to clawing ripping agony that left Draco unable to do much more than lie shivering in Harry's arms, and he doesn't really want to remember most of that.
Draco's memories aren't nearly as hazy as he'd like them to be. He's considered Obliviating them.
Harry remembers wishing desperately, many times, that he hadn't let Draco re-enter the bond. That they'd waited just a little longer for the Healers to find some way of helping him without putting Draco in danger. He remembers being afraid to ask Draco if he regretted his decision, and rationalizing his own silence as plain common sense, because it didn't matter what Draco did or didn't regret. The decision had been made, and there was no going back.
Draco knows what Harry was afraid to ask, and he's glad Harry never asked it.
Hermione remembers feeling sickest of all at the fact that, of all the teachers, students, Healers and Aurors who bustled around or stood helplessly watching Malfoy suffer, not one person ever suggested he return to his father. Not one of them was willing to trust that Lucius Malfoy wouldn't kill his only son, or hand him over to Voldemort. The closest anyone ever came was one Auror who commented on how frustrating it was that they were going crazy trying to locate Lucius, when they all knew that if Draco accepted his summons he'd be immediately drawn to wherever Lucius happened to be.
Pansy remembers starting to develop a hex to work on Lucius. It had to do with rather a lot of pain, both physical and emotional. She didn't finish it, but still has her notes, and every so often, when she remembers Draco's ashen features and the way his sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead as Potter held him through the worst of it, she fiddles around with her curse some more.
Both Pansy and Snape – and quite a few other Slytherins – remember the bitterness of knowing that the only reason Aurors were frantically looking for Lucius was that Draco's suffering was affecting Potter.
They remember the day an Auror started to say something about "the Malfoy boy," as they so caringly called him, and got only as far as "the-" before he stopped. And that's when they all realized he'd been disowned again.
Draco doesn't remember that; he was too busy praying that he could pass out.
A few minutes later, Draco had ripped his signet ring off again, and Harry and Draco both remember the flash of wandless magic that shattered the ring and sent white-hot pieces of it flying in every direction. They both remember one of Madam Pomfrey's bedsheets bursting into flame on contact. But Draco doesn't remember that it was both of them who cast the spell. Harry does.
Snape and Blaise and Pansy all remember how, for a while after that, Draco was "Potter's spouse" to the Aurors. Until at one point the Golden Boy overheard one of them and nearly gave her a heart attack as he suddenly rounded on her in fury, with a long expletive-peppered diatribe that ended with "And his name is DRACO!"
Snape remembers it as possibly the only time he ever felt anything positive towards Potter.
Pansy only remembers that Draco didn't hear any of it.
Blaise remembers that as the moment he decided where to cast his vote. Not so much because it was oh so romantic that dear, heroic Harry Potter stood up for his spouse, but because Potter's furious involuntary magic shook the beds in the infirmary, put out a couple of candles, shattered a glass vial, and scared the living hell out of the sanctimonious Auror – and Blaise, actually – without Potter even noticing what he was doing.
Potter, Blaise decided, was scary as shit. And had maybe had more than just sheer dumb luck on his side all those times he'd beaten the Dark Lord.
Neville remembers that during one of the times Malfoy felt relatively fine, he played Dragon Rummy with Neville while Harry slept, exhausted from being up all night. And at one point Malfoy had winced and caught his breath, Neville asked if maybe he should wake up Harry, and Malfoy shook his head impatiently.
"Let him sleep," he'd said curtly, shuffling the cards. "I can deal with this on my own. I'm sure I'll wake him up screaming in an hour or so anyway." And Neville felt the way Malfoy almost always made him feel, like a bumbling, ineffective idiot.
Then he'd reassured himself that maybe he wasn't all that ineffective; if he could make Malfoy act like Malfoy, despite what was going on, maybe he was doing some good after all. He'd gone on to win the next round.
Harry remembers Draco pulling him close at one point, possibly on the third day, kissing him and fumbling with his jumper. He remembers Draco choking out, "Blow me, fuck me, I don't care which, just – God, give me something else to think about," and he remembers not hesitating before portkeying them both to their bedroom, not even bothering to say anything to Ron and the two startled Aurors who were with them in their sitting room, slamming the door shut with wandless magic, grabbing Draco and pushing him back onto the bed and proceeding to do anything and everything Draco wanted him to do. He remembers how Draco was in pain through the whole thing, how rough they were with each other, how Draco didn't even bother to prepare him before shoving into him, how much it hurt and how little he cared, as he urged Draco on. How good it felt to be with Draco even for a few moments while Draco had something else on his mind other than pain.
Draco only remembers the cool soothing feel of Harry underneath him, the brightness of his climax, the brief respite from hurt.
They both remember Pomfrey taking Draco's wand away during one of his more lucid moments on the fourth day. Only Harry remembers Pomfrey and Hermione and a couple of Order members whispering about giving Draco some kind of potion to dampen his magic, as his emotional control got more and more fragile and his magic started to manifest itself randomly and increasingly destructively. Thankfully, Snape was able to convince them to just keep trying to contain Draco's magic safely. Informed them, moreover, that dampening potions might make the rest of them safer, but would take away any defence Draco had against the effects of the mark.
Hermione remembers a Healer asking Snape if he had any thoughts on what might help Malfoy. She remembers that Snape talked for about an hour about the Dark Mark, answering every question the Healer asked, and ended up filling several parchments on the subject, much of his information based on firsthand experience. Remembers also that he didn't even flinch when he saw her reading the parchments.
They all remember brief respites when, thankfully, the torment ceased. For some of those, they figure Lucius was probably asleep. The rest were caused by various spells or potions that blocked or counteracted the effect of the mark for a while.
None were effective for long. Lucius, clever and inventive as always, had improved on Voldemort's original designs, they'd realized early on. In fact, Lucius had the power to drive Draco insane, literally – and a hell of a lot faster than they'd expected, too. And what with Draco and Harry being bonded, it was possible that Harry could very well be done in by Draco's insanity or eventual suicide. The possibility that this had been Lucius' plan all along was quietly discussed among the Aurors, though none of them was stupid enough to mention that particular theory in front of Draco. Or Harry, for that matter.
Harry remembers Draco finally breaking down around the fourth day, and remembers not being able to stop his own tears. He remembers both of them sobbing tiredly in each other's arms, and it wasn't cathartic and it wasn't cleansing and it wasn't a relief, it was just painful and exhausting and hopeless.
Draco doesn't remember much about one potion they were warned would "probably cause some regression, disorientation, loss of inhibitions," and a string of other side effects. He doesn't remember agreeing to take it, because he didn't. By that point he was in no shape to consent to or refuse any kind of treatment, and Harry was making all medical decisions for him. He does remember that the world lost all its hard edges, and he said quite a lot of things, and Harry was there.
Harry remembers everything Draco babbled about, his eyes dazed and his voice very soft.
"I love you, you know. Course you know. I don't know when that happened. My father'll be furious." Blink. "Wait, he found out, didn't he?"
"Yeah, he did."
"Mm. Miserable bastard anyway. Y'know I always wanted to be like him. He was so strong. He was really nice, too, sometimes. D'you know he got me a baby dragon, when I was a kid? And he used to take me flying when I was really small. But he was such a bastard."
"I know, Draco."
"I love you."
"Erm... me too, Draco."
"Y'know I used to think you were such a git. No, I really did."
"I believe you."
"But bloody bond spell, powerful, isn't it? Can I have some water?"
"Sure."
"Thanks. Still hurts, you know. Why would he do that? If I ever have kids I'm not going to be like him. Only they'll have to be respectful. D'you ever wish you knew your parents?"
"Yeah."
"I don't have any, any more. I don't think Mum'll go against Father." Sudden frown. "Shit. You're the only family I've got."
"You're the only family I've got, too," Harry said, smiling a bit.
"That's all right, then. I dunno when I fell in love with you. I was so pissed at you, and the fucking bond. That's why I got angry that time, when we were suspended."
"Because you'd fallen in love?"
"Well no, but I was starting to like you and that really pissed me off. I'm really sorry the papers said you were abusive. When did you?"
"When did I what?"
"Fall in love with me."
"Oh. Erm... not sure." Uncomfortable pause that Draco didn't seem to notice. "Erm, I dunno, sometime around when we slept together that first time. I think."
"Wow, that's a long time. The mark hurts."
"I know."
"It really hurts."
"I know."
"Fucking bastard." Another frown. "Can you make it stop?"
Harry sighed. "No. I'm sorry."
"You can do other things, though. You're really powerful. Why can't you make it stop?"
Harry closed his eyes and held Draco closer.
"'Sokay. I don't mind. Hey, don't look like that. Think I could go flying?"
"N-no, Draco, you're – if you lost control and fell-"
"Yeah, I suppose. But chocolate frogs might be nice. Merlin, what am I, twelve? Firewhiskey."
None of them remember the last time the torment stopped, because it had stopped so many times. Stopped, only to return again, and in some ways the return was worse for the respite. Draco remembers just closing his eyes and going to sleep, knowing he'd be awakened when it began again. He thinks he was in the Gryffindor common room.
He definitely remembers waking up though, ten hours later, in the Gryffindor boys' dorm, from hunger rather than pain. Seeing Harry still asleep next to him, shadows under his eyes and three days' stubble along his jaw. Most of the other Gryffindor boys still asleep, and Granger curled up in a large armchair next to their bed, hugging a book to her chest. Weasley sitting next to her, absently rubbing her back as she slept, staring off into the distance. Glancing in his direction, automatically starting to get up to call the Healer – and then registering that Draco didn't seem to be in pain.
"You all right?" he'd said, his voice rough.
Draco thought for a moment. "Yeah," he'd said, and winced at the raw tone of his voice.
Ron remembers the other boys in the dorm waking up one by one, Seamus blearily staring at Malfoy and saying something like, "D'you think it's really over? He gave up? Or maybe the Aurors found him."
He also remembers Dean saying, with uncharacteristic obtuseness, "Or maybe he's dea-" before Neville elbowed him.
"I should be so lucky," Malfoy muttered bitterly. "If he is I hope he rots in hell."
And none of them had any clue what to say to that. Harry had said nothing, just rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then accio'd their towels and soap and shaving potion and tugged on Malfoy's arm, silently nodding towards the washroom and much-needed showers.
Ron still shudders when he remembers the vicious hatred in Malfoy's voice as he wished his father dead. Can't find it in himself to censure Malfoy.
Draco won't say what he felt when he was told that Lucius hadn't been arrested – or killed – by Aurors. Won't say how he felt about his father leaving Voldemort's side and going underground. Won't say whether he believes Lucius finally remembered that a father is supposed to love his son, or whether he believes Lucius had some other reason for abandoning everything he'd worked for, for over half his life. Won't admit to still worrying that some day the pain might return.
Harry's pretty sure he knows what Draco thinks and feels about all of the above. But he's never asked, and probably never will. Some things don't get better when you talk about them, some memories are best left unremembered, and some wounds can only be healed by time.
