Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
I think this story will be relatively short.
For story updates and other info, follow me on tumblr (potter-is-mine. tumblr .com)
-Amnesiac's Dream-
Chapter 1
It happened when we were in DADA, practicing curses and offensive spell working.
I had been watching Potter, like I always was, as he was sparring with Longbottom.
This was a mistake, as I would have guessed- Longbottom was a walking disaster. But Potter was too kind for his own good, and when Longbottom had been left without a partner for the assignment, none other than the Saviour of the Wizarding World volunteered to partner with his poor, unfortunate soul.
And of course, Longbottom was shit at curses. Well, with aim mostly, but we all thought, "Nothing the Chosen One can't handle."
Until I saw Longbottom shoot a curse at Potter when he wasn't paying attention.
It wasn't on purpose, I'm sure; Longbottom had a bit of a guy crush on Potter, and aside, he didn't have a cruel bone in his poor sodding body.
Potter, oblivious as always, had been looking over at the Weasel, talking about some shit Quidditch game or other, when Longbottom's curse hit.
It wasn't a curse I could identify, nor was it a curse I think Longbottom even meant to fire.
On impact, Potter's eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed like an empty sack of straw. Limp. Lifeless.
Without thought, I abandoned my own partner and sprinted across the room to Potter. Weasley and Longbottom beat me there, both bent over Harry, trying to shake him awake.
"Harry...Harry! Shit, Neville- call Pomfrey...Harry!" Ron shouted as he slapped Potter across the face. I stood there, not sure what I should do, my feet moving nervously.
Neville runs out of the room, gripping his face with anxiety. By now, the entire class, as well as our DADA instructor are leaning over Harry, staring as Ron desperately tries to wake Harry.
I find myself annoyed at them- why are they all staring? Who do they think they are, invading Potter's privacy? Pretending as if they care?
"Get back everyone! Give them some space!" I shout, herding everyone away from Weasley and Potter. The class shuffles back slowly, going back to their seats. Everyone starts to whisper animatedly, pointing at Harry.
Before I blow another fuse, Pomfrey bangs into the room with Neville trailing behind.
"Get back!" She commands, ushering away the last remaining gawkers.
She takes out her wand and casts a levicorpus, Harry's body rising into the air until it hovers in front of her. She rushes out of the room, floating Potter following behind.
Weasley and I are left standing awkwardly, staring at the door through which Potter just vacated.
He turns to me, his brow creased into a slight frown. "Hey… thanks. I didn't think you'd care about all the people gawking."
I just smirked at him. "Don't think too much of it, Weasley."
He frowns, and I walk back to my seat. A few minutes later, the class is dismissed, and I make my way towards the Great Hall, all the while wondering how Potter was doing.
*0*0*0*
That night, after dinner, I sneak out of the Slytherin eighth-year dorms and make my way to the hospital ward.
I sneak in through the heavy doors silently, slipping past the empty beds. I spot Potter and make my way to him, thankful that Pomfrey seems to have already retired for the night.
He is asleep, or still unconscious, his face relaxed.
I notice how peaceful he looks in sleep, untouched by his stupid expressions of annoyance or anger. That's how I usually saw him, anyways. Although, this last year, Potter had been acting almost… kind to me. He wouldn't engage in any stupid arguments, and he had even started saying hello to me in the halls…
I shake off the thought. I can't resist the urge to touch, my hand drifting out towards his face, running one slim finger down the side of his jaw. I had to grudgingly admit he wasn't bad looking, for a bloke. Especially in sleep.
I rip my finger away when he starts to stir, his eyelids fluttering.
"Hmmmmph," he mumbles, stretching his arms above his head. My eyes follow his limbs, drifting down to the slight peek of skin of his stomach. He lowers his arms, and I tear my eyes away.
"Hello," he sighs, his eyes cracking open, looking up at me. A small, almost-smile graces his face, and he looks up at me with bright eyes. The expression on his face is one I'd never seen before, and it freezes me into place. The lack of any hostile emotion that he usually directed towards me was a bit off-putting.
His eyes are huge, looking up at me with such unguarded innocence that it takes me a moment to process his words. I blush when I realize he was still waiting for a response. "Um.. hi." I almost punch myself for sounding so dim. Unsure how to proceed, I ask the most sensible question given our current location. "How are you feeling?" I try to add a certain air of nonchalance to my words, but I can't quite conceal the breathless and mildly unnerved state his eyes have left me in.
"Fine, I guess." He whispers. His smile spreads as he watches me fidget. "What's your name?"
I freeze in shock, sure that he was joking. "What do you mean? I'm Malfoy… you know me, Potter!" I exclaim at the confusion on his face.
"Sorry…I… um, where am I?" The smile has dropped from his face, leaving me oddly disappointed.
"You don't remember?" I ask him, slightly concerned.
He shakes his head. "No… I don't even remember my name, although I would guess it's Potter, as that's what you called me. Unless that's a kinky nickname you have for me?" He asks, his voice changing from confused to sultry. He punctuates his question with a wink.
For a moment my mouth gapes open, disbelieving. Where did this Potter come from? Was my subconscious playing tricks on me, trying to make up for all the years of derisive sneers, and instead delivering a sexy Potter look-alike for my amusement?
I pause before replying. I am about to speak when it hits me- this Potter didn't remember me. He didn't remember anything- anything I'd done. He had no reason to hate me... it was like fate delivered me a clean slate.
I look down into his bright, earnestly green eyes. I could start over with him. Or, the unfailingly Slytherin part of me whispers, I could use this to my advantage. Push my way back into society's graces on nothing but the friendship of Harry Potter himself.
I could have Potter.
He smirks at my pink cheeks.
I smirk at him, thrilled with this opportunity. "No, that would be Potty. You find that particularly sexy in the bedroom."
He laughs out loud, his face alight with happiness. "I'm sure anything you call me is sexy. You are undeniably gorgeous, after all."
My eyes bug out of my head at his point-blank statement. I stutter, at a loss for words. His sexy smirk grows with my discomfort. Apparently Amnesia did incredible things, including turning formerly hot-headed idiots into sex gods.
I am saved from having to reply when Madame Pomfrey bustles out of her office and into the ward. "Mr. Potter! You're awake- Malfoy? What on earth are you doing here? Visiting hours are over! If you are using this as an opportunity to harm Mr. Potter-"
I seize the opportunity. "Just checking up on my boyfriend, of course! I've been worried sick."
The shock registers plainly across her face. "Boyfriend…? I wasn't aware of such a development."
"Oh yes, we've been keeping it a secret from everyone. Don't want the public having a conniption, do we? The Prophet would have a field day." I purr, smirking. I couldn't believe my stroke of luck.
Potter lies wordlessly, not fighting anything I say. He wouldn't, anyways, as he probably believes me as well. He smiles up at me dreamily, however, supporting my claim. I wonder how much of it is an act for Pomfrey. His eyes are much too bright.
Pomfrey sighs, not entirely convinced. "Yes, yes, I'm sure. You must go now, Mr. Malfoy, as I need to give Mr. Potter here an examination."
I nod and turn to go, but a hand on my wrist stops me. "Wait… he can stay. I want him here." Potter says.
My heart stops. I could get used to this.
Pomfrey looks like she is going to argue, but a yawn breaks her harsh stare. "Fine, fine. Let me run some tests and then you must rest." She says exasperatedly.
After she conducts her examination, her face is an odd mix of suspicion, confusion, and sorrow. "Mr. Potter, do you remember anything about yesterday?" She pauses, and Potters expression turns dark.
"I don't remember much of anything, to be honest. I know some things, almost like they're instinctive- I'm eighteen, the war is over- but I don't remember why. I remember most of the war, but faces are blurred. When I first woke up I didn't feel any sense of self, but some of it came back to me. I didn't know who you are, I don't remember-" He's starting to become agitated, so I place a hand on his leg. He stops, looking over at me as if remembering something. He sighs. "I remember you, though."
I freeze, my legs tensing in panic, ready to run.
Potter's face doesn't seem to match up with the expected emotions, though. His face is soft, his eyes warm.
Pomfrey clears her throat. "Your memories may come back, but it will take awhile. I will have the Headmistress come down in the morning to talk to you about… who you are, and anything else you should know that you may not remember. For now, get some rest. You have quite the obstacle in front of you, dear."
She bids us goodnight and heads back to her office, seemingly too exhausted to question my presence again.
Potter's expression slowly morphs into horror, his grasp on my arm vise-like. "I have no idea who I even am." He says hollowly.
I sit on the edge of his bed. "We will get through this. I promise." I give my best effort to be convincing.
He looks up at me, his eyes shining. An unidentifiable affectionate expression crosses his face, tinged with relief.
"Will you stay with me?" He whispers.
I hesitate, looking down at his prone form. "Of course."
He shuffles over, making room for me on the hard cot, and I lie down beside him. He moves closer and buries his face into my chest. My arms circle his body, stiff at first. He sighs contentedly, shivering slightly when I bury my nose into his unruly hair. I am surprised by how soft it is, clean-smelling and fluffy.
"Of course." I whisper, his breathing already evening out in sleep.
0/0/0/0/0/0/0/0/00/0/0/0/0/0/0/00/000/0/0/
AN: Yay for fluffy cheesiness! Thanks for reading!