Posted originally on the

Archive of Our Own

at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/3640428

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Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationship:

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Additional Tags:

Amnesia

,

HP: EWE

Collections:

H/D Hurt!Fest

Stats:

Published: 2015-03-29 Words: 5226

No Te Olvides De Mi

by

dragonstag

,

hurt_mod

Summary

Harry finds Draco unconscious in a dark alley late at night. Things go very wrong when

Draco doesn't recognise him.

Notes

A million thanks to my beta, X, for her reassurances and for correcting my stupid mistakes,

and to the mods of this fest for kindly allowing me an extension – twice. *winces*

CONTENT WARNINGS IN END NOTE.

See the end of the work for more

notes

“Lumos,” Harry whispers. The glare of light from his wand illuminates the alley instantly and

Harry squints against it, pointing his wand downwards.

He inhales sharply. The light falls on a man, sprawled unmoving in the middle of the cold, dead

alley. Harry can’t see the man’s face from this angle, but the white-blond hair on his head is

familiar enough. He runs forward, extinguishing his wand, and grabs the man’s shoulders, turning

his face towards him. Could it be…?

His heart sinks. “Malfoy. Malfoy, are you alright? Please wake up!” He shakes the man’s

shoulders, panicking slightly as Malfoy’s head lolls and he remains still, as lifeless as ever. “Wake

up, dammit! Rennervate!”

Malfoy’s head jerks, and Harry releases a relieved breath. Malfoy blinks and coughs several times,

struggling to sit up but failing. His confused gaze lands on Harry’s face.

“What happened?” he asks, and his voice is weak. Harry frowns. Something is wrong, he thinks –

there is none of the usual coolness in Malfoy’s expression. Knowing Malfoy, he would glare at

Harry even if Harry saved his life.

Malfoy is still looking at him expectantly. Harry snaps to attention. “I found you unconscious in

the middle of this alley on my way home. Are you feeling alright?”

Malfoy doesn’t seem to have heard him. He looks around wildly, a hint of alarm showing on his

face as he registers his surroundings. Harry repeats his question patiently, going into Auror mode,

and Malfoy hesitates, rubbing his forearms in apparent unease. “I, um…I don’t know. My head

hurts and I can’t remember how I got here.”

“Do you remember anybody cursing you?” Harry persists, determined to find out exactly what has

happened to Malfoy. It’s 2 bloody AM, for goodness’ sake, and if he hadn’t found Malfoy…

Harry shudders to think what could’ve happened to him.

Malfoy hugs his knees to his chest. “No, nothing. I only remember walking out of the Ministry,

and then waking up here.”

Harry nods, puzzled. Rennervate worked, so Malfoy must’ve been Stunned or something similar,

but Stunned people don’t forget how they’ve been Stunned. Whoever’s done this to Malfoy has

obviously done something more, but it can’t be too serious as Malfoy isn’t showing any signs of

physical pain.

“Where are we and what time is it?” Malfoy asks.

“We’re right around the corner of Stony Stead. It’s 2AM so you’d best get home and rest, Malfoy.

We’ll figure out what’s wrong with you tomorrow. Can you stand?”

Malfoy looks startled at Harry’s straightforwardness, but attempts to push himself to his feet. He

ends up collapsing back on the ground with a groan of frustration. “Apparently not. My head is

pounding and I can barely see straight. How am I going to get home like this?”

Harry sighs. He should probably report the situation to the Auror Department, but it’s way too late

and this doesn’t really count as an emergency. He knows Malfoy lives alone, but he’s definitely

too weak to manage on his own in this state. Damn Malfoy and his whininess. “I can Apparate

you to my house and you can spend the night here, since you’re too weak to go back to your own.

We can report your situation to the Auror department in the morning.” He braces himself for an

angry retort.

It didn’t come. Instead Malfoy just says, “That’ll be fine, thanks,” and props himself up on his

elbows. Harry does a double take, and Malfoy raises his eyebrows. “Well? Are we going?”

Harry snaps his mouth shut. “Right. Come on.” He links Malfoy’s arm through his own and

concentrates as best as he could on the image of his living room. He’ll deal with Malfoy in the

morning.

*

Harry wakes up to the sound of chirping birds and a creeping sense of dread. He rolls over and

stares at his alarm clock, which flashes the numbers 08:00. 8AM. He sighs and closes his eyes,

then jumps as a loud thud sounds from the living room.

“What…” Harry mutters, scrambling out of bed and stumbling over to the door to investigate. His

hand is already on the knob when he remembers that Malfoy stayed overnight, and he only has

boxers on.

“Shitcrapfuckcrapshit what’s he done now argh hurry up HURRY UP,” he curses under his

breath as he scrambles into his clothes clumsily. When he finally gets the door open, the first thing

he sees is Malfoy sitting on the sofa, studying the photographs on Harry’s coffee table. Harry

clears his throat loudly.

Malfoy looks up and, inexplicably, gives Harry a polite smile. “Good morning, sir. I hope you

managed to get some sleep. Thank you for letting me stay here overnight and making sure I was

fine, I feel much better now. I think I’ll just be off now, if you don’t– what’s wrong? Why are you

gaping at me like that?”

Harry shakes his head, too stunned to form words. Did Malfoy just thank him politely without a

single insult? Mentally, he runs through the events of the early morning. Malfoy hadn’t seemed

any different, except…except he had snapped at Harry at work just the day before, which was

why Harry was in a bad enough mood to go clubbing in the first place. Malfoy’s shift in

personality has to be caused by his attacker, Harry thinks.

He approaches Malfoy cautiously. “Everything’s fine. I was wondering, though, do you

remember what we discussed at work yesterday? I seem to have forgotten, silly me.” He holds his

breath.

Malfoy looks surprised. “At work? Excuse me, but I don’t recall us discussing anything yesterday,

other than when you found me in the alley. As far as I’m concerned, we aren’t colleagues or

business partners. Are you sure you’re alright?” He makes to manoeuvre around the table, but

Harry waves him off hurriedly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just a little confused. Say, do you remember what happened in Moaning

Myrtle’s bathroom in sixth year?” He’s taking a huge risk, he knows, but if his suspicions are

anything to go by, Malfoy probably doesn’t remember this moment. He waits with trepidation as a

delicate frown creases Malfoy’s brows.

“Excuse me, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t remember ever going into

Myrtle’s bathroom when I was at Hogwarts. Say,” he narrows his eyes at Harry, “who are you

and why are you asking so many strange questions?”

Harry’s knees wobble and he hurriedly grasps the doorframe. “Malfoy, don’t you remember

anything? The war, our rivalry?”

Malfoy has lost his polite mask and is now looking at Harry with a mixture of suspicion and

anger. “Hey, are you off your rocker or are you just fucking with me? There hasn’t been a war

since 1945, and if you want to be rivals I’d certainly be glad to begin now. Now am I allowed to

leave or are you going to keep me in your house all day?”

Harry buries his face in his hands in despair before pulling himself together and heading towards

the Floo to firecall Ron and Hermione. It’s going to be a long day.

*

“Harry, this is really, really bad.”

“Way to state the obvious, Hermione,” Harry says with a weary sigh. He, Ron and Hermione

managed to convince Malfoy to get some rest after an excruciatingly long period of questioning,

which wasn’t all that hard as Malfoy was worn out and had absolutely no memories of their past

rivalry at all. Malfoy’s wand is safely in Harry’s pocket so he can’t escape in any way. “He’s

under the impression that I don’t exist and the war never happened, and he’s back to being so

fucking not Malfoy that it’s driving me crazy. What if he doesn’t get his real memories back?”

“Maybe it’s better that way, mate,” Ron says thoughtfully. “I mean, I’d rather a polite Malfoy than

the stupid git-faced one he was before this happened.” He waves a hand vaguely to indicate ‘this’,

and accidentally knocks his teacup over. “Oops, sorry.” He sheepishly cleans up the mess while

Hermione glares at him.

“Of course it’s better that way, but have you thought about what’s going to happen when he

actually has to face the world again, the world that’s been so affected by Voldemort? He’s not

going to be able to handle it, Ron, he’ll collapse. I know we told him that he may have been

Obliviated or something, but it’s also likely to be something else since he has some false memories

as well. We can’t take him to St. Mungo’s, no one’s going to believe him because of his Death

Eater status. We have to solve this, Harry, as quickly as possible.”

“Wait a minute, Hermione…if he can’t go out in public, where’s he going to go? I can’t possibly

keep him on lockdown 24/7. Forget Malfoy, I’m going to go crazy, and then you’ll have to visit

me in St. Mungo’s every day on top of everything else!” He’s rambling in a panic, but he can’t

stand living with this person every day, this Malfoy that’s just…not Malfoy. “Can’t we tell

Kingsley? I’m sure he’d understand and find somewhere to keep him until we get this sorted out.”

Ron snorts. “Good luck with that. All right, we’ll tell him to keep him updated and all, but since

he’s Minister and all he has much more important things to deal with. He’ll probably ask you to

keep him with you as well, so no point asking, Harry.” He glances at his watch and does a double

take. “Blimey, it’s already six! Hermione and I should go, we promised my mum we’d stop by the

Burrow after work.” He stands up and claps Harry on the shoulder. “Hang in there, mate. We’ll

definitely get this sorted out so Malfoy can go back to being himself, AKA a git.”

Hermione purses her lips in disapproval, but otherwise ignores Ron and gives Harry a quick hug.

“I promise I’ll do more research tomorrow,” she says. “He’ll be fine, and so will you, Harry. Do

try not to worry yourself to bits.” She smiles wearily, then takes Ron’s arm. Harry sees them out

of his front door, and when they Disapparate, he feels the weight of weariness on his heart yet

again.

*

Harry strides into Malfoy’s room, then pauses, bracing himself. Ron and Hermione have decided

that Malfoy needs to know about his condition as soon as possible, such that if he were to get his

memories back, he wouldn’t be too alarmed. Naturally, Harry is the one who has to do it, as the

Minister has instructed Harry to keep Malfoy in his house until the other Aurors manage to catch

the culprit and figure out a way to restore Malfoy to his original state. So much for Harry being

Head Auror; he gets to babysit someone who hates – or hated – him. Cursing his luck once more,

Harry walks over to Malfoy and shakes his shoulder.

"Malfoy, wake up. I have to tell you something.”

Malfoy grumbles in his sleep and flings a hand out, hitting Harry in the face. Harry yelps and

grabs Malfoy’s hand, tugging on it nearly hard enough to drag Malfoy out of bed.

“Wake up! It’s important. You do want to know what’s wrong with you, don’t you?”

Malfoy is awake in an instant, snarling at Harry and leaping out of bed. “I can assure you, sir,

there is nothing wrong with me. I think I’d know if my brain had been messed with. Now, I

demand that you let me out of here right now before I fetch the Aurors!”

Malfoy’s chest is heaving and his hair is mussed from sleep. He’s a mess, but Harry doesn’t think

mentioning it would be appropriate right now. “Malf– Mr Malfoy, I am in fact the Head Auror, so

please hear me out. I have important information that you need to know, and I promise that if

anything I say offends you in any way, you can just walk out.” He watches Malfoy carefully as

the blond’s expression changes from outraged to surprised to suspicious to conflicted in a matter of

seconds. Finally, Malfoy purses his lips and sits back down on the bed primly. Harry decides

that’s good enough for him, then realizes he hasn’t really planned the way he’s going to tell

Malfoy about his messed-up memory. He bites his lip. “Okay, so I don’t really know how to

phrase this in the best way, but–”

“Salazar! Are you actually going to tell me about this so-called important thing that's got to do

with me and my mental well-being? Look, you found me on the street unconscious, and you

revived me and nursed me back to health. That’s perfectly fine, but you know what? Suddenly

you’re keeping me prisoner in your house and questioning me together with your stupid friends.

What have I done to deserve this? Do you have something against me all of a sudden?” He

spreads his arms in a wide gesture, then looks down sharply. “What…” He begins to roll up his

left sleeve, and Harry stares in horror. Malfoy saw the edge of the Mark, which he didn’t know he

had, and any moment now he’s going to see the full terror of it. Why didn’t Harry think of this

earlier? He curses his lack of thought and winces as Malfoy’s mouth drops open in horror and his

yell echoes around the room.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS DOING ON MY ARM?”

“Draco, calm–”

“DO NOT TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! I have just found a terrifying tattoo of a snake-

tongued skull on my arm, which I do not recall ever agreeing to tattoo, and I demand an

explanation. Now.” His voice cracks ever so slightly, and he sinks his face into his hands,

shoulders shaking. Harry’s heart gives a slight twinge at the sight. He ignores it and dives in

headfirst.

“Based on what we discussed earlier, Draco, we – that is to say, me and the Aurors in charge of

your case – suspect that certain parts of your memory have been altered or removed in some way.

If this is the case, it makes sense that you were Stunned but didn’t remember how you got into that

alley.”

Malfoy looks up slowly. “Do you mean to say…my life as I remember it now is all a lie?” He’s

pale and his eyes are wide and terrified. Harry forces himself to nod, then hates himself for it.

“Some parts of it, in a sense. You don’t remember me, do you?”

Malfoy springs up off the bed. “No. I don’t. I grew up in Malfoy Manor with my parents, got

Sorted into Slytherin and studied at Hogwarts for seven years. You–” he points a desperate finger

at Harry, “I don’t recall ever seeing, around or outside of school. After I graduated, I went to work

in the Ministry, which I assume I’m still doing now. I remember it as clear as day. It can’t all be

fake. It can’t.” He starts pacing around the room, tugging at his hair in frustration. Harry feels

immensely sorry for him.

“Relax, most of your life isn’t fake. However, you do seem to have forgotten huge chunks of it,

and aren’t even aware that you have, which is why this might not simply be Obliviation. As to

why I can’t let you leave the house–” Harry sighs and steps into Draco’s path, stopping him in his

tracks, “–let’s just say there was actually a war here, started by a very Dark wizard. It happened in

our seventh year, and many people are still traumatized and mourning their losses.” He swallows

and pushes the haunting memories firmly to the back of his mind. “It was bad, really bad.”

Malfoy stares at him. “That still doesn’t explain why I can’t leave. Tons of Obliviated people go

about their lives as per normal. Now that I know about the war, there’s no other reason for me to

stay. Or trust you, for that matter.” He narrows his eyes.

Harry closes his eyes and opens them again. He knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it

any easier. “You might want to sit down before I explain.”

*

“How was it?”

“Bad. He chased me out, said he needed some space. He was pretty mad when he found out I had

his wand, too. I’m worried about him. What if he never gets his memories back? I mean, I just told

him he was the enemy in a war he doesn’t even remember. That’s got to be too much for anyone

to handle, even for Malfoy.” Harry shudders a little as he remembers Malfoy’s face, pale and

drawn, his lip quivering as he clearly struggled to maintain his composure. He briefly regrets

leaving Malfoy now; he might be having a panic attack or destroying everything in his room for

all he knows.

Ron chews his lip thoughtfully. “I dunno, mate, it’s hard to say if he can get them back. Hermione

did manage to restore her parents’ memories, but again we don’t know if Malfoy was Obliviated

or not. Even so, Hermione found out last time that only the caster can restore the original

memories. We’re working on catching the culprit right now, but it’s going to be hard because we

don’t have many leads other than a few witnesses.” He looks almost anxious for a moment, then

brightens up and Harry almost expects a clap on his shoulder before he remembers Ron’s on the

other side of a blazing fire. “We’ll visit you every day, though, try to squeeze more stuff out of

Malfoy and bring you supplies. At least then you’ll have some company.”

“What– company?”

“Oh right! I forgot to tell you, you’re supposed to stay with Malfoy as much as possible, at least

for this first week, to see if he starts remembering anything, check up on his mental health, that

sort of thing.” He catches sight of Harry’s horrified face and shrugs. “Sorry, Kingsley’s orders.

But hey, I don’t think I’d trust Malfoy alone in my house, and now you have an excuse when he

gets mad at you for not leaving him alone.”

Harry scratches the back of his neck dejectedly. “Yeah. Yay, me.”

*

A week later, Malfoy still isn’t showing any signs of improvement, though he’s opened up more

to Harry and seems to be making an effort to be nice. Harry’s startled to find himself at ease in

Malfoy’s company as they dine together one Saturday night, though he still wishes he wasn’t

stuck at home with him. They’re having a lighthearted conversation about Quidditch when Malfoy

suddenly cries out and puts a hand to his head, fork clattering to the ground. Harry is on instant

alert.

“Malfoy! Draco, are you alright?”

Malfoy blinks a few times, looking really confused. “I– I’m really not sure. I just had this flash of

something like a vision– I don’t know if I imagined it, but I saw myself with my Aunt Bellatrix for

a second.” He shakes his head slightly, frowning thoughtfully.

Harry can barely breathe. “Did you remember her before this?”

“I only remembered what my parents told me about her. You think this could be a memory?”

“Yes, I think you might be remembering something, Draco!” Harry leaps up from the table. “Let

me write this down. I’ll need to tell Ron and Hermione about this tomorrow.” He feels a slight

twinge of disappointment that Draco still doesn’t remember him, but he’s too excited to look

deeper into it. Maybe Draco Malfoy has hope after all.

*

The next night, Harry is woken up by Draco’s screams. He doesn’t think, just gets out of bed and

rushes to Draco’s room, and when he opens the door, Draco is yelling and kicking, getting

entangled in the sheets. Harry goes to rouse him immediately. “Draco! Wake up! You’re having a

nightmare.”

Draco gasps and his eyes fly open. His hands scrabble at the sheets, grasping and finding nothing.

His terrified gaze finds Harry’s in the darkness. “My wand. Give me my wand!”

Harry stumbles back. “I- I can’t, Draco. You’re safe, it was only a nightmare–”

“GIVE ME BACK MY WAND NOW!”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t! The Minister will murder–”

“Potter, I really don’t care. If you’re that concerned, I swear I won’t try to escape or attempt to

destroy you or your house. I’ll even swear it on an Unbreakable Vow. I just need my wand back.

Without it, I feel so¬–” He breaks off abruptly and draws his knees up to his chest, rocking back

and forth. Harry can’t see his face in the darkness, but Draco’s breath is coming in sharp gasps

and he thinks he might be crying, and that just won’t do as he simply can’t stand looking at Draco

when he’s this vulnerable, so different from his usual self. He relents. “All right, all right, you can

have your wand! But if you try anything, I’m taking it back immediately and giving it to the

Minister for safekeeping.”

Draco takes the wand, which Harry Summoned from his bedroom, and, almost tenderly, places it

beside his pillow. He sits there for a few more moments, taking deep breaths to calm himself, and

Harry is vacillating between comforting him further and leaving when Draco says, “I dreamt of a

room on fire.”

Harry feels like a stone has just fallen from the sky onto his heart, crushing it. He sits down on the

bed and decides to proceed with caution. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Draco lies back down. “The room was massive, and I remember trying to escape the fire…I truly

thought I was going to die. One of my friends didn’t make it.” His voice is rough, choked with

emotion. He looks over at Harry. “Was this real?”

Harry feels too powerless to do anything but nod. At Harry’s confirmation, Draco covers his face

with both hands. “Fuck. Fuck. That actually happened. What else happened during– during the

war? Am I going to remember it as well?”

Harry grimaces. “It’s very likely, since it seems you’re starting to remember more and more. We

still haven’t caught whoever did this to you, but it seems you don’t need any help.”

“I don’t want to remember. Can’t I just move to another country and pretend all this never

happened? You can Obliviate me again so I go back to the state I was in when you found me.

Surely that’ll be better for everyone, since I’m apparently such a horrible person that–“ He stops,

choked by a sob, and Harry unconsciously grabs his hand, squeezing it. Draco doesn’t object,

merely clears his throat and continues. “I’m such a horrible person that not even St. Mungo’s

wants anything to do with me, and even you didn’t trust me enough to let me have my wand back.

Maybe I’m better off dead.”

“NO!” The word explodes out of Harry so forcefully, it makes both of them jump. He shakes his

head vehemently and grabs Draco’s other hand, prompting him to stare at Harry in surprise. He

looks into Draco’s eyes. “What you did in the past does not matter. It is who you are now that

matters, and I know you are a good person. I’m just too used to people attacking me for no reason,

which was why I didn’t want to give you back your wand. You don’t deserve to die, Draco, and

you shouldn’t run away from these memories either, because the war and what happened during it

helped shape who you are today, and you can be proud of that. Never say something like that ever

again.”

Draco blinks. “You mean that?”

Harry’s heart clenches as he looks at the man lying beside him in the bed, looking so, so small and

vulnerable. “Yes,” he says fiercely, and means it. He realises that, one way or another, he’s

always believed in Draco Malfoy, and he’s not about to stop now.

Draco releases a long breath. “Thank you. That meant a lot to me.” He hesitates. “Could you

perhaps stay with me, just for tonight? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep well after that nightmare.”

A flush tinges his cheeks then. “On second thought, never mind. I’m all good. Forget what I just

said. Good night.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll stay.” Harry doesn’t wait for Draco’s reply, just gets under the sheets next to

Draco. “Go to sleep, I’ll be here if you need me. Night, Draco.”

Draco’s reply contains a hint of surprise, but he doesn’t object to Harry sleeping in his bed.

“Night, Harry. And thanks…for everything.”

*

Things begin to look different for both Draco and Harry over the next few weeks. Draco is rapidly

remembering snippets of the war, but still not Harry. He’s also having more and more nightmares,

and Harry’s taken to abandoning his own room, instead moving his bed to Draco’s room so he

doesn’t have to run from one room to another when Draco starts screaming. Harry can’t say he

minds, though. Now that Draco doesn’t top every sentence with insults, he’s realised that the two

of them have a lot in common. The minute Ron came over with news that they could leave the

house, Harry took Draco out to dinner with Ron and Hermione and they had a wonderful time

together.

Until Hermione cornered Harry after dinner.

“Harry, can I have a word with you? Alone?” she asked pointedly.

“Uh, sure. Let’s go out for a while, I’m cold anyway. You and Draco will be fine, won’t you,

Ron?”

Ron grimaced but lifted a shoulder, and Harry followed Hermione out of the café. Once the door

shut behind them, Hermione rounded on Harry. “What’s going on between you and Malfoy?”

Harry wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Uh, nothing? We’re great friends now, if that’s what you

mean.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Hermione gazed at Harry in such a knowing way that Harry felt

annoyed and discomfited. He glared back. “Of course I’m sure! We aren’t fighting each other

constantly now, are we?”

Hermione sighed impatiently. “Harry, you like him. Like, like like him. In a more-than-friends

way. I saw the way you looked at him at the table.”

Harry gaped. “No, I don’t like him! That isn’t even a possibility. We used to hate each other,

remember?” Even as he said that, his thoughts betrayed him as he remembered the softness of

Draco’s hands and the warm, fuzzy feeling he’d got when Draco snuggled against him in bed. He

blushed, more confused than ever. Hermione smirked at him, which made him scowl and blush

even harder.

“You do like him, Harry. I’m pretty sure he likes you back, his eyes were literally shining when

he looked at you. Are you going to do anything about it?”

Harry threw his hands into the air. “I honestly have no idea, Hermione. I don’t even know if I like

him in that way. Even if you’re right, he’s going to get all his memories back one way or another

and then he’ll go right back to hating me. And I don’t want to be there when that happens. So just

leave it, okay?” He turned away from Hermione to go back into the café, but her look of pity,

which he’d seen out of the corner of his eye, haunted him all night.

Harry wishes the conversation with Hermione never happened. All it’s done is make him realise

he does indeed like Draco in a more-than-friends way. It’s become positively torturous to wake up

in the morning next to Draco wishing he could get closer to him, know him better, but then

remembering he can never have anything more than a temporary casual friendship with Draco that

will surely end the minute Draco remembers their rivalry. Now that he thinks about it, he’s so used

to sleeping in the same room as Draco that it wouldn’t even feel right to sleep in his own room

anymore.

Harry’s going nowhere by continuing his friendship with Draco if it’s only going to go up in

flames.

*

Another week goes by, and Harry’s moping in his study when the door bursts open and hits the

adjacent wall with a bang. He jumps and turns around to yell at the offender, but snaps his mouth

shut when he sees Draco Malfoy in the doorway, looking absolutely livid and ready to murder

someone

Harry stands up and is about to open his mouth when Draco storms into the room and Harry curls

his fingers reflexively around his wand. A brief flash of hurt crosses Draco’s eyes, before it is

replaced once more by anger and Draco roars, “I have had enough! You have been ignoring me

for a week. No meals together, nothing! Tell me, is it something I did? I thought for a minute…”

He trails off and the anger in his eyes melts into despair, before he shakes his head and walks back

towards the door, looking as dejected as a lost puppy.

Overwhelmed by guilt, Harry rushes up to Draco and grabs his wrist. “Wait! Don’t go.”

Draco meets his gaze, and his grey eyes are even stormier than usual. “You ignored me for a

week, Harry. You left me to deal with the nightmares alone. You left me thinking I had no friends,

even while I’ve been living in your house. Why shouldn’t I leave?”

Harry sighs. “I’m really sorry, Draco. It’s complicated. I’ve been avoiding you because I was

scared our friendship would be ruined.”

“You still haven’t told me why. Surely telling me would be better than avoiding me and ruining

our friendship anyway. We’re friends, aren’t we? I’ll understand, and we can work it out.”

There it is again. We’re friends, Draco said. Just friends. It’s never going to work out. Harry

clenches his free hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.”

Draco’s gaze immediately becomes cold and hard, and he looks so much like his father did that

Harry can’t help but recoil. “I see. Goodbye, Harry. It was nice knowing you. I’ll just get my

things and be out of here, then. Sorry to have bothered you for so long.” He wrenches his arm out

of Harry’s grip, and Harry can’t do this anymore.

“I’m in love with you, Draco!”

Draco stares at Harry, displaying absolutely no emotion whatsoever. Harry feels his stomach flood

with regret and embarrassment. “There. Now you know. You can leave now that you don’t want

anything to do with me.”

He’s about to turn away before the heartache overwhelms him, but then Draco’s footsteps are

coming closer and a pair of lips are pressed against his – Draco’s lips. Draco is kissing him, and he

automatically kisses back, tasting honey and sophistication and Draco, and suddenly he’s the

happiest he’s been in years.

Draco pulls away and gazes into Harry’s eyes. His own eyes are open, unguarded, and Harry sees

something different there now – a profound recognition.

“Still scared, Potter?” Draco whispers, eyes shining and lips traced by a smile. Harry is smitten.

“You wish, Malfoy.”

-End-

End Notes

Content Warnings: Memory loss, mention of suicide intention.

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