*Wow! I can just feel the love! Fanfiction readers are the best! I can't believe how many responses this story has already. Thank you to those who put it on alert and added to favorites, too!

So, apparently, I forgot to write the first title in-DUH. I made the correction and hopefully I'll remember from now on. The titles don't go in the same order as the song. And there won't be as many chapters as there are lines in the song.

Bookwoman17NerdyMom- definitely sexy times down the road ;)

ClaireBouldwin- I know Harry losing his memory isn't very original, but I'm trying to make it a little different. He hasn't lost it completely, just back to right before Hogwarts. It's more about the two of them getting to know each other without prejudice.

WitchRavenFox- Your suspicions are correct, but Harry himself may not have realized it.

wnb-emma- I hope you do well on your exams! Thanks for reading my stories

Vinkula- It won't really be a sad story. I think you'll find that Harry without the weight of the past is actually rather upbeat :)

Thanks to dominygringa, DracoMalfoyIsMyLionI'mHisLamb, BloodyRose90, anon, luvsallthingsslash, RosieTheRiddler, cassy1994, lette2001, DrWooty, Lalala Spacing In Panda Land, Princessmelodina and FantasyFiend09. So nice to see so many familiar names!

This chapter isn't terribly long, but the next one will be.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Day Two, Monday

"Now remember, your name is Redmond. I'll introduce you to Mirabelle as the squibb son of one of my father's acquaintances. And before you ask, a squibb is a non-magic person born of wizards."

Harry smiled sheepishly. He knew he had been asking a lot of questions and Draco must have found it tedious.

Mirabelle was a pleasant young woman who had been under Draco's tutelage for the past two years. She was especially helpful to Harry in learning the basics of the shop. While Draco talked to the few customers of the morning, Mirabelle walked Harry through the aisles, pointing out the most popular potion ingredients. She taught him how to measure out sneezewort, valerian, and lacewing flies. Some things, such as newt eyes, were sold singly, while others were sold in bunches, like nettles. Harry asked about the dragon's blood, which he saw in a corner on a high shelf.

"Oh, you won't need to worry about that. It's quite expensive so we don't sell much. Plus there are charms around it that only Mr. Malfoy can access."

"I see."

"Well, I think you've got the basics down," Mirabelle said. "You're a quick learner. But it's half-one already. I'm starved. Let's break for lunch," she suggested.

Mirabelle led Harry to the back room where two sandwiches were waiting for them, along side chips and fruit salad.

"Ooh, this is from my favorite cafe. My friend Peter owns it," she told him. "Mr. Malfoy always has lunch brought in for us. He's a very good employer."

She picked up one of the sandwiches and sat down at a small circular table. "Come on then, the other one is for you."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Yes. Sit." She gestured to the chair opposite her.

Reluctantly, Harry took the other plate and sat across from her. As they ate, Harry took the time to really notice her. He had been so busy trying to absorb everything she told him, he hadn't the time to observe her earlier.

Mirabelle had a round, yet not chubby face with an equally round nose. Her blue eyes were not unusually small, but when she smiled or laughed, they almost appeared closed, giving her a slightly Asian impression. Her dirty blonde hair fell around her shoulders in subtle waves. For a moment, he felt a strange sense of familiarity, but it was gone before he could place it.

"How long have you worked for Drake?" he asked.

She looked up from her plate and raised her eyebrows. "Drake?"

"Oh, I meant Draco. It's an odd name, isn't it?"

Mirabelle smirked. "It suits him quite well. But Drake does have a more modern ring to it." Then, remembering Harry's question, answered, "Just over two years. Last month it was two years, actually. He's taught me so much already, but I've still got a way to go before I'm a Potions Master like him."

"How long will it take?" Harry asked.

"Normally, it's a three year training program. Mr. Malfoy is such a good instructor, though, he thinks I'll be ready in less than six more months," she beamed.

"And then what?" Harry questioned.

"And then, I'll be a Potions Master myself. I'll be qualified to make all the potions we make here, on my own. I could open my own shop, if I wanted."

"Oh. Is that what you'll do?"

"Not anytime soon," Mirabelle replied. "There's a big difference between getting a certification and running a business. Actually, I'm hoping to run either this shop someday or the one Mr. Malfoy is planning to buy in Paris."

"He's opening another apothecary in Paris? When? Is he moving there?" Harry's brow furrowed.

Mirabelle put a hand on Harry's arm. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's only in the works right now. You don't have to worry about him whisking off and leaving you behind."

He felt vulnerable at being so attached to Malfoy already. And the panic of thinking he would leave Harry on his own, momentarily left him feeling foolish.

Harry cleared his throat. "Don't you make the potions sold here?" he asked, hoping to deflect attention from himself.

"Only the simpler ones," She replied. "Ones that, really, people could make themselves if they took the time to bother. Too many wizards have taken to the muggle ways of shortcuts. Of course, wizard shortcuts are certainly different from muggle ones, " she laughed. "But you know what I mean. It's just laziness, if you ask me. They want to go out and get it instantly."

"What's wrong with that?" Harry questioned.

Mirabelle shrugged. "I suppose I wouldn't have a job if everyone did all their own potion making."

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Mirabelle turned the conversation a bit more personal, in light of Harry's reaction to the possibility of Draco leaving the country.

"So, are you really a squibb?"

Harry looked up blankly. He hadn't expected her to question the story Draco made up. He wasn't sure he could lie convincingly.

She continued. "It's just that I sense some power from you. You're not like any squibb I've ever met."

"Actually, no, I'm not," Harry confided. "But I am having difficulties. Drake, uh, Draco, is helping me."

"I see," she smiled. "There was no need to make up a story. It's none of my business who Mr. Malfoy entertains in his flat."

Harry's eyes went wide as he understood her meaning.

"No, it's not like that," he blushed. He wondered if it showed through his glamour.

"Don't get me wrong," she smiled. "I'm not judging. But you're different from Mr. Malfoy's usual type."

"Type? You mean, he doesn't usually entertain men?"

"He definitely entertains men. Or should I say, more likely, they entertain him." She winked. "You seem more . . . um, less worldly." She struggled to find a word to describe Harry that he would not find insulting. For, as she saw him, he was rather plain compared to the striking men that normally accompanied Draco.

"So he prefers to keep company more sophisticated than me," Harry clarified, unsure why he should be insulted, considering he hadn't thought of Draco in romantic terms in the least.

"No offense. I didn't mean it as an insult. I like you. You have substance. I don't feel like you're looking down your nose at me, like most of the boys that Mr. Malfoy has dated."

Harry laughed. "We are not dating. He really is just helping me get back on my feet. I'm sure I'll only be here for a few days."

"Shame," Mirabelle said. "Well, he must have seen something special in you. Mr. Malfoy may be a great employer, but he doesn't do things out of the goodness of his heart."

As Harry finished the last of his sandwich, he thought about what Mirabelle said. He wondered if Malfoy had ulterior motives. And if they included adding Harry to his list of paramours.

"We should get back to work," Mirabelle said, standing up and gathering her trash. "One thing Mr. Malfoy doesn't not tolerate is slacking. There is still so much for me to show you."

Harry wondered, as he cleaned up, if Draco was so particular, why he was going out of his way to allow Harry into his life. Surely, Harry would only add chaos to order.

The remainder of the day dragged on for Harry. Mirabelle left him to tidy up and replenish the jars near the front of the shop. He made frequent trips to the back room for ingredients, but the work was fairly mindless, allowing Harry's thoughts to wander. Occasionally, he paused to observe Draco. His host moved about the store with elegance and confidence. He was most charming when dealing with the clientele. Especially those that appeared to be wealthy. Harry could see why the shop was so successful despite being situated down a dark and seedy alleyway.

By the time Draco turned the sign on the front door to read 'closed', Harry was exhausted. He wasn't certain what an Auror did, but he suspected it must have been a lot of paperwork done at a desk. Obviously, he was not used to walking back and forth and climbing ladders all afternoon.

Up in Draco's flat, Harry flopped on the bed, while Draco warmed up a light supper for them. Harry had nearly fallen asleep when Draco called him to the table.

Harry took the seat across from Draco at the table just the right size for two.

Grinning as he ate, Draco asked, "Did Mirabelle work you too hard this afternoon?"

"Apparently, I'm not used to this much physical labor," Harry laughed.

"She'll whip you into shape in no time. But be careful there, that could have a double meaning," Draco winked. "She's a bit of a flirt."

Harry blushed at Draco's innuendo. And this time, it showed, as Draco could see through the glamour. "I don't think I'll have to worry about that. She has the impression . . ." Harry decided not to bring up the conversation he and Mirabelle had during lunch. "Well, suffice it to say, I think she finds me rather unrefined."

"Did she say that?" Draco asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Not in so many words . . ."

"More likely she meant unpretentious. Most of our clientele are quite the opposite."

Harry shrugged.

"You seemed to have picked up everything quickly today. Did any of it jog your memory?" Draco continued.

"No. Is that what you were hoping for?"

"Hope is a strong word. I thought perhaps it was a possibility that working with the potion ingredients would trigger something. After supper, I'd like to try a memory charm on you, if you're up to it."

"All right," Harry answered. "Mirabelle knows I'm not a . . . a squibb, did you call it?"

"Yes, squibb."

"She asked me outright. I didn't know what to say, so I confessed that I'm not. But I told her I was having problems."

"She's a perceptive girl. One of the reasons I chose to mentor her over others. I could have hired a more experienced potion maker, however, her instincts are better than most. She's good with the customers, as well. Especially the male customers that want little to do with me," Draco commented.

"She can't be as good as you. You were so . . . charming with some of them."

Draco snickered. "The job requires a bit of finesse when it comes to the more discerning patrons."

"You mean you have to kiss a lot of arse."

"To put it mildly," Draco said. "I've become exceedingly adept at feigning interest in peoples' business, no matter how disinterested I truly am. They tend to spend more in my shop if they feel I'm impressed by them," he smirked.

"Is that what you have to do with me?" Harry blurted out before he could sensor himself.

Raising an eyebrow, the way he did when he was amused, Draco replied genuinely, "Actually, Potter, er, Harry, your lack of conceit and arrogance is rather refreshingly easy to deal with. Despite your endless questioning."

Harry gave Draco a smile so sincere, he subconsciously returned it. When he realized what he was doing, Draco cleared his throat and began to clear the table.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

After the supper dishes had been cleared and Harry finished marveling at the fact that the dishes had magically done themselves, Draco prepared to perform a memory charm on Harry.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked. "It may feel a bit strange because you're not use to feeling magic. Anytime you want me to stop, just say so."

"All right," Harry answered nervously. He trusted Draco, but he was still apprehensive.

Muttering a simple spell, Draco waved his wand slowly and gently, over Harry's head. He could feel the tension, almost like magnets repelling one another. Draco let the flow of magic grow, just a bit, feeling that he was making progress.

All at once, Harry cried out.

"What's wrong? Does it hurt?" Draco asked. "It shouldn't hurt."

"Stop! Please, stop." Harry held his hands to either side of his head as Draco ceased the flow of magic and lowered his wand.

Harry continued to whimper and rub his temples. "It still hurts. Make it stop." He grabbed tightly onto Draco's shirt, his knuckles white.

"I have stopped," Draco told him. "I'm sorry."

A tear fell from the corner of Harry's squeezed shut eye.

Instinctively, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry as he would a child, if he liked children.

"Sh, sh, sh. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I won't do that again."

Harry relaxed finally at Draco's touch, and the pain subsided. Draco released him, but Harry still clutched at his host's clothing, keeping him closer than Draco would have preferred. He waited uncomfortably for Harry to let go, then sat down beside him.

"That shouldn't have happened. I was only performing a simple charm. Whatever was done to you must have been designed to prevent someone from accessing your memories through conventional methods."

"Why did it hurt so much?"

"I'm not certain," Draco frowned. "Maybe your memories are buried too deeply, or maybe they're gone altogether, and that's why I could reach them."

"You mean they're just gone, and there's nothing I can do?"

"Now let's not jump to conclusions. It's only a theory. And I've only tried one method. And I won't try anymore spells until I do some research on the subject," Draco assured him.

Harry yawned widely and rolled his shoulders. "I'm tired. I think I'll go to sleep."

Draco glanced at the clock. It wasn't even half-nine.

Noticing, Harry said, "It's all right. You won't keep me up. Do whatever you would normally do."

Harry went off to the bath to ready himself for bed. He only had the energy to brush his teeth and pull on a pair of pajama bottoms, leaving on the t-shirt he had already been wearing.

When he came out and crawled into the bed, Draco had already transfigured the chair and was comfortably stretched out with a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

"Would you like a glass?" he offered Harry.

"No thanks." Harry took off his glasses and placed them on the side table. He was nearly asleep before his head sunk into the luxurious pillow.

Draco tried to read, but his gaze kept traveling to his temporary houseguest. He wondered what his friends would say if they knew he had Harry Potter in his bed. Of course, not the way one usually meant by that phrase. But still, it was closer than he ever thought it would be. Draco supposed the only way for Potter to be there at all was if he didn't realize who either of them were. He frowned as he reflected on the memory charm he used earlier. Draco didn't think it would be that simple to restore his former nemesis' memory, but it shouldn't have caused him so much pain.

Harry made a snorting noise in his sleep and shifted position, catching Draco's attention once again. He watched as Harry slept, freely, without fear of getting caught. Harry's dark, disheveled hair fell about the pillow while his matching eyelashes stood stark against his creamy complexion. It was easy to overlook small details like his lashes or eye color when Harry wore his glasses. They had been a distinguishing feature since boyhood. But Draco had been able, on occasion, to get a good look past those glasses while Harry was a guest in the flat, and truly see Harry's eyes. And they were about the loveliest shade of green Draco had ever seen.

Thoughts such as those kept Draco's mind active, despite the wine he drank earlier in the evening. He glanced over at the clock for what seemed like the millionth time. Two-twelve.

Draco threw his head back against his pillow in frustration. He was close to resorting to a sleeping potion. The vision of Harry, in pain, and clinging to him crept into his mind. That, coupled with the fact that Draco couldn't figure out why Harry had been in so much pain, prevented him from falling asleep naturally.

Finally, reluctantly, Draco quietly got out of bed and swallowed the appropriate potion. Being a Potions Master was convenient, he thought to himself. No matter what ailed him, or any guests he may have, Draco always had the appropriate potion on hand.

Within minutes, comfortably ensconced in his makeshift bed, Draco at last fell asleep. Thanks to the potions affects, he wouldn't remember the dreams he had in the morning. Dreams that starred a certain green-eyed houseguest.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

Thanks for reading! As a reward, here are a few sneak peeks into the next chapter!

"Good morning," Draco mumbled. "What time is it?" he groaned.

"Half-eight," Harry said. "I wasn't sure if I should wake you up or if Mirabelle would open the shop."

"It's Wednesday. We're closed Wednesdays," Draco informed him.

Harry grinned. "So we have the day free?"

Yawning, Draco answered, "I have some errands to run. I suppose you could come with me. I'll show you around Diagon Alley. Perhaps something there will jog your memory."

"Oh, Harry, I really am sorry for laughing." Draco placed a hand on Harry's arm. "My house was notorious for being rather . . . unscrupulous and conniving. Yours was known for courage and bravery. The thought of me being a Gryffindor . . ." Draco began laughing again.

Though he wanted to be angry with Draco for laughing at him, Harry couldn't help smiling. It was the first time he saw genuine heartfelt laughter from the normally stoic man. His elusive smile was dazzling.

"I know you know more than you're telling me. I can see it in your eyes. Maybe you think I can't handle it, and maybe I can't. Yet. But I hope you'll be able to be completely honest with me some day." Harry gave him a sympathetic smile.

"You're right. I do know more about you than I've told you. But what I know is from my own perspective. I'm sure you have a completely different point of view."

Harry nodded. "That's probably true."

"I don't want to muddle your mind any more that it is already by giving you inaccurate information, and I'm doing my best not to influence you too much. But I'll answer any questions you have," Draco said with reluctance.