Based on: A yaoi rp my friend Alankin and I did. All parts of Draco and various characters played by her. Harry and other characters played by me. Used off of the Book series, not the movie. We LOVE the movies, of course. But there is simply so much more in the books.
Disclaimer: I and my friend do not own any part of Harry Potter, we're just fans.
Chapter 12
The room was warmer then when he started, probably because the hole was almost completely closed mow. And Draco had to admit, he wasn't doing too bad of a job. Except he was sweaty and dirty, but he needed to prove he could do this. Not to Potter, but to himself. His hand stung, but he was forcing himself to ignore it. He glanced around the room, once the hole was fixed, a bit of cleaning and the place would be one hundred percent better.
Harry climbed out of bed, used the bathroom and went to his bedroom. He knocked on the door. "Draco? How's it coming?" He didn't even realize that he had called him Draco. He had done it when he wasn't himself, but fully awake and in control of his body...no.
"Fine." He called back. With a wave of his wand, he unlocked the door. "You can come in Harry." The room was much warmer now, Draco had seen to it. He still wasn't going to let Harry work, but at least he could show the guy he had no need to worry. Wait...had he just called him..Harry?
Harry stared at the doorknob. He had called Malfoy, Draco. And Draco had called him Harry. He shook his head, hiding his surprise. But it came right back as he opened the door and saw the room. He stared around in shock. The room was warm too. Harry looked at Draco. "You did it!"
"Did you ever had any doubt?" He smirked. "Draco Malfoy can do anything he puts his mind to." Then again, Harry had done most of the work, but he had to say, he was fairly sure he'd never worked so hard in his life. No job was worth losing blood over, that was for sure. At least the pain stopped in his hand after he retied the bandage. A little more pressure helped.
Harry looked over and saw his hand. "You're hurt!" He went over and grabbed his wrist, looking at it. He shook his head. "Come on." He pulled him to the bathroom and turned on the water, then began to untie the bandage. "Alright, hold still." He said, pulled the last of the layers away. He winced when he saw it. "Blimey...if you had hurt yourself you should have stopped." He then began to gently clean the wound. He re-bandaged it with some medicine. "There. That should take care of any infections."
"That's amusing coming from you, the guy who tried to kill himself up there..." Harry made himself sick, Draco got a little cut, it was nothing. "At least it's done right? And you're feeling better I see?" He knew Harry was probably a little better, though not one hundred percent, not yet at least.
Harry nodded and finished tying the bandage. "Yeah." He finally released the hand and sighed. He had to say it. "...Thank you...for taking care of me." He moved out of the bathroom and away from Draco lest he do something crazy, like hug him.
Now it was Draco's turn, to say something nice. "Thanks for...showing me having a friend doesn't completely suck...but no, I wont be your friend." He smirked slightly. Even when they hated each other, and were bickering, Draco had felt something, a connection, friendship.
Harry spun around to him. Eyes dark. "Who said anything about being friends? When there's so much more..." He flew forward and slammed his hand down on the wall next to Draco's head. "Wake. Up!" He growled at him. His face turned pained and desperate. "I don't want to remember if I can't have you! It's like a second chance! So wake up!" He bowed his head. "Remember me."
Draco ducked away, backing away from Potter slowly. "I - I think you need to lay down..." He was watching Potter carefully, much like you'd treat a wild animal, slow, gentle, non threatening. He had no idea what his...friend was talking about. Remember what?
"Draco..." He reached out to him slowly. Then drew his hand back. He stepped away. "It's useless, isn't it. You're not going to remember. I wanted to desperately to remember...so I did. But...things went better for you this time...so you don't want to remember...do you?" He sighed, burying his face in one of his hands.
"What am I supposed to remember Potter!" He was confused, was there more to this then he thought? Maybe it had something to do with the feelings, or the constant dream of Durmstrang whenever he wanted to get away.
"Everything!" He threw his hand down and looked at him. "Everything." He whispered. He leaned against the wall and slid down to sit. "Us. How we became friends, and you left me to go to Drumstrang. Then you came back and Ginny attacking us. How we fell in love. You became the Potions Master and me the new DADA teacher. Teddy messing it all up!"
"What are you talking about Potter...I'm not going to Durmstrang, nor have I ever been...Ginny doesn't have the ability to be evil and..." And then the love comment sunk in. Harry and him? No. Wasn't possible. So he did the only thing that made sense. "You should lay down, you're hallucinating again." And he turned from the room, and once he was out of sight he ran, right out the door, to the park. He didn't bother with a coat, he just needed space. Air.
Harry watched him go and his eyes went back to normal. He shook his head, trying to clear it. What the hell was wrong with him? He and Draco were not and had never been in love! It was just...WRONG! But why did he feel such a sense of loss when Draco ran from him. An emptiness because Draco didn't share these strange memories... Harry stood and went to his room. He grabbed a quill and parchment and wrote Draco a note, before he grabbed some floo and left...to Mungos.
The note, when Draco came back, was laying on Draco's bed.
Draco,
Obviously something is seriously wrong with me. Ever since we got back to school and we saw each other on the train...it was like...something was trying to break free in me. It feels like something I've forgotten. And then..after hearing myself talk so often in such a strange way...with memories that aren't mine...I've gone to Saint Mungos. Perhaps they can figure out what's wrong with me. But I don't know how long I'll be there. Can you please take care of Sirius? Or give him to Ron and Hermione for them to take care of. Sorry for all the trouble I've caused you.
Harry
When he returned, Sirius looked sad, and there was a note on his bed. From Harry. "The only thing wrong with you is that you're an idiot..." He muttered, crumpling the note and tossing it across the room. He knew Harry's friends would be at Weasley's, so he sucked it up and took the dog there. He also explained where Harry was, before leaving. Maybe they could visit him and snap him out of it.
He wasn't planning on returning to the house, he had somewhere's else in mind. And it wasn't Hogwart's either, he had given up on that place too. He was on, what some might call, a soul search, to find himself.
Harry was perfectly and completely, for all intents and purposes, sane. As far as they could tell, he was suffering from Time-Warp syndrome. A few others had it too. Ginny Weasley for one. But what it meant was that they were getting flashes of another life. Someone had rewound time and they were seeing what had happened before. In some cases, when the symptoms were small, they could erase what they had seen and all would be well. But with cases like Harry's...they had to wait for it to run it's course. One of three things would happen to him in the end. The worst case scenario: Harry would become insane. Another case would be that he was taken over by his former life. And the best case: He learns to cope with it.
Draco found himself at Severus' house, and he lived there, even after school started. Something told him it was the best place he had to find himself, yet as he slept, every night, the dreams changed of Durmstrang to him as a Potion's Professor, like Harry had said. It must have been because of what Harry said. He was fighting off the nagging feelings during the day, but he couldn't stop his dreams at night. He was going through Snape's things. Notebooks, textbooks, yet he found himself drawn to the ones about potions, with no explanation.