-Summary: Harry loses his memory after Sirius' death -
he remembers nothing but his life at Privet Drive and the magic he's learned.
Once he re-meets everyone, his life is turned upside down... Rated R, Boy/Boy
love, Language, etc.
-Pairings: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
-Author Notes: I'm so sorry for not being able to post
this earlier - I started back at school on Wednesday and have had zero
time to write. (Got a recap to start out with so I can remember my own
story - heh.) It's also time for more cussing in the story. A little less
descriptive, yes. But it's hard to get the creative juices flowing after
being at school for 3 days ;(
***
"Yes, that's Draco Malfoy - your enemy. He hates all our
guts, Harry, and he hates Mudbloods, so why would you be talking to him?"
this time it was Hermione, malice written all over her face.
Harry felt as though he had a cloud of thick fog in his head.
He shook his head violently and blinked several times. "I, um, I don't
know..." was his weak reply. He felt so unsteady he wondered how he was
still standing. He felt as though he needed to throw up, so he started
running back towards the Gryffindor Tower as fast as he could.
Harry could hear Ron's voice floating desperately behind him,
growing ever distant as he ran with more urgency towards the Gryffindor
tower. He ran as fast as he could, not caring about who he bumped into
along the way. The castle was a blur of stone walls and ornate portraits
as he rushed past.
Finally he made it back to the tower and sprinted inside to the
Common Room. Luckily, the Gryffindors were all in their classes, so he
had the whole place to himself. He threw himself on the floor in front
of the fireplace, panting heavily. He hastily wiped the chick blood off
on his robes.
There was already a bright, warm fire going in the fireplace,
even though it was afternoon and not even cold. Harry sat up and caught
his breath quickly, but still felt very uneasy.
"What the hell is going on around here...," he said out loud.
He had never felt so strange.
Harry stared deep into the crackling fire, his emerald green eyes
contrasting sharply with the orange red flames.
Something was definitely wrong, and he wasn't the only person
feeling it.
***
Draco rounded the corner, his face a mixture of contempt and fear
at the two people standing in front of him.
"Draco, what a pleasant surprise."
It was Pansy, and she was staring back at him seductively, almost
knowingly.
"Why aren't you in class?" Draco asked, folding his arms over
his chest.
"Oh... you'll see..." she cooed, crooking a finger at him. "Why
don't you come with me?"
"Never. I know what you're planning and you'll never get away
with it. I'm the Slytherin Prince, do you honestly think you can do this
to me and not have half the Common Room on your ass?" he replied. "No,
I won't make this easier for you at all."
She feigned a hurt look. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be,
is it, Draco? Well, isn't it lucky that I brought some friends with me,
then?"
Suddenly, out of the shadows, two almost giant figures jumped
out and grabbed Draco, who gasped. His slim frame struggled helplessly
against Crabbe's and Goyle's trollish bodies.
"No! Crabbe, Goyle? How could you do this to me?! I'll get my
Father on your fathers - you'll never get away with this!!!" Draco's arms
were now pinned behind his back and he was being blindfolded.
The next thing he knew, he was being shoved rather roughly at
great speed through the winding tunnels that made up the Slytherin dungeons.
Draco refused to show signs of discomfort or sounds of pain as he was thrown
into the rough stone walls every once in awhile.
"Damn you, Parkinson!" he managed to choke as his face was slammed
into what he assumed was a stone gargoyle. He tasted blood.
Finally, he was led into a dark room and he heard a door slam
behind him. Draco was thrown into the wall again, and felt something hard
jut into his spine. He winced in pain, thankful for the dark, but was careful
not to whimper.
"Why the hell are you doing this?" he asked, his voice spitting
with contempt.
It wasn't my fault. It wasn't. It was that stupid house-elf.
How was I supposed to know Potter was actually going to act on that information
he recieved? We all thought he was the gallant and brave Gryffindor who
would never hurt a fly... unless... it was for his friends... oh, Merlin,
I should have killed that boy when I had the chance.
"Okay... I know I should have done something to stop him... anyone
could have made a mist--" he cut himself off. Malfoys didn't make mistakes.
"...Just let me go! We can go find him and torture him, you don't have
to do this - "
Someone had pulled him off the wall and shoved him down, where
his knees painfully hit the hard floor. He grimaced again as he felt an
unpleasant tingling jolt its way up his legs and he clenched his teeth
in pain.
"No, Malfoys don't make mistakes. That's why you need to pay for
yours - and your father's."
It was Blaise this time.
"Damnit, Zabini, how many Slytherins have you got lurking around
in here? Is your jealousy for me bad enough you have to get all your friends
involved just so you can feel all high and mighty in this?" Draco retorted.
That was a mistake. Right away he was struck, slapped across the
face by Blaise's strong hand.
Draco smiled weakly in the dark, but no one could see him now.
No one even knew where to find him and it was his own fault for leading
himself straight to them.
He looked down and closed his eyes, waiting for the next blows
he knew would come.
And they did, one quickly right after another. And he knew no
one could help him.
***
Harry had been sitting up straight, staring with great intensity
into the fire, when suddenly he recoiled and doubled over. A shooting pain
had begun in his left side, and he was now pressing his forehead against
the floor, clutching his ribs and panting. He closed his eyes and waited
for the pain to slowly subside.
What the hell, he thought, the pain in his ribs now a dull
throbbing. He leaned back against the couch and opened his eyes again.
And, suddenly, there it was again.
It felt like he had been slapped very hard against the face, and
it was now stinging as though he had ripped all his skin off and dunked
his head into a bowl of rubbing alcohol. He grit his teeth and ran to the
dormitory to check in a mirror - there was nothing showing on his face.
It wasn't red and didn't have any hand prints on it, yet he knew he distinctly
felt a hand.
He slowly made his way back to the fire, feeling dazed.
He knew this place was weird. Hell, he knew that he was
weird. Something unreal had certainly happened between him and "Draco Malfoy"
not too long ago, and he knew that his body had changed somehow... he didn't
remember exactly what, though. He had the feeling about it that he'd
always gotten when he tried to remember too much about how his parents
died - he could remember just a little, but everything else was locked
up somewhere, and he didn't have the key. It was like the feeling one gets
when they try to remember their infancy years. It just can't be found.
Without warning, Harry's body was suddenly caught in a whirling
sensation of being on fire. He yelled loudly in pain and forced his rolling
eyes to look down at himself, his hands violently shaking. It was incredibly
hard to control his body. Wait - what was that, he wondered -
Harry's body was giving off an eerie, almost unearthly green glow.
He watched in shock as the greenish tint spread off his body in
waves.
Draco. It has to be him. He did something weird to me today,
I know it. I must have... a spell on me or something. I need to find him
so this pain will end.
Harry clenched his jaw and his fists together and forced himself
to stand up, on shaky legs. He tried to run out the Common Room door, but
his legs wouldn't move faster than a shuffle. He tottered on his feet near
the portrait-door, and almost fell, but caught his balance at the last
minute because the blinding green pain had suddenly stopped.
Seizing this moment, he ran as hard as he could down the stairs.
He didn't even know where he was going.
Why can't someone show me around this fucking place sometime?
Harry would almost feel foolish if he didn't have such a desperate
feeling to save someone. His shoulders were weighed down with dread and
he felt alert, awake, as though on a caffiene rush. He closed his eyes
and in his mind's eye saw the image of a dank, dark dungeon with an eerie
green glow not unlike the one that had been surrounding him. Realization
sunk in and he knew he was feeling another person's pain.
He immediately forgot all about his accusations of Draco and fled
insanely down the hallways, being drawn to the dungeons with every fiber
of his body and soul. Every couple of seconds he felt a blow landing on
his cheek, or his stomach, or - he shuddered - he would feel that awful
burned-alive sensation.
The whole way to the dungeons, Harry's eyes were closed.
***
Draco bitterly spat blood in Blaise's face. He already had a black
eye and someone had broken a couple of his fingers with their shoe by forcing
them backwards into the top of his hand.
But that was nothing compared to the Crucio they kept using on
him. Draco writhed and screamed, feeling its blinding pain for a long time
even after his attackers stopped the spell. It hadn't been the first time
he had felt it. His father could get very nasty when he was angry.
Draco lay on the floor weakly and cradled his fingers against
his chest. Blood trickled out of his swollen lip and he nearly prayed that
the torture would stop.
"You're all cowards," he spat. This earned him another hard blow
to the stomach.
***
Harry felt like his ribs had been cracked in half. He was now
tearing through a dank dungeon, running insanely past dozens of rooms that
he didn't even take a glance into.
THIS WAS IT.
Harry skidded to a halt and almost crashed into a wall in his
desperation. It was as though the voice of Merlin himself had shouted into
his ear, that this was the door he needed to open.
He pulled out his wand and forced himself forward through the
dark - he charmed the lock open and was forcing open the heavy wooden door
-
***
Draco suddenly felt a presence outside the door. He heard the
faint click of the latch being spelled open.
Was he truly being saved, after all he'd done to the students
and teachers at the school? Five years of superiority and hell he'd given
the school and after all this, someone still saw something good in him?
It's too good to be true, he thought weakly, as his body
shook violently. I've been under the Cruciatus Curse too long and now
I'm experiencing hallucinations. No. No one would save me...
But before he could finish his thought, the heavy door flew open and a familiar voice pierced through the darkness to the very heart of Draco.