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Chapter Text

No. This isn’t real.

He can’t be dead. He’s the Chosen One, he’s the Boy Who Lived, there’s no way...

“HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!”

His heart breaks and he wants to scream, but all he can do is stay where he is, feeling as though his whole world is crumbling down. And he hears the gasps and the anguish of those who loved Harry too, but all he can focus on is that he’s gone, and he’s not coming back.

His eyes blur, and he struggles to keep his tears from falling. His shoulders slump, his heart aches so badly and he really wants to just go to Harry, but he can’t.

‘Please,’ he thought desperately, ‘Come back to me.’

And when Harry leaps out of Hagrid’s arms, eyes blazing and face set in determination, Draco is relieved.

Then he slips away.

*****

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.” It gets easier, by now. To pretend, to act like they are nothing more than childhood-rivals-turned-acquaintances. They meet on many occasions after all. His cousin is Harry’s godson and his Mother had been trying to reach out to her estranged sister after the war. So it’s not the first time they met in Andromeda’s home, when Harry is visiting Teddy and Narcissa is visiting Andromeda. He was there because his Aunt Andy wants to meet him, because he didn’t have the heart to say no to his hopeful Mother.

“Day!” Teddy’s sweet voice calls out, recognising his cousin from his place on the floor. He’s almost a year old, and Draco loves the boy, even though he doesn’t quite know how to handle a child so small, so innocent. The small boy wobbles to his feet and walks the short distance clumsily to Draco, hugging his legs and looking up at him with a bright smile, “Day came!”

He can’t help the small smile that appears as he kneels down, tiny arms immediately circling his neck. “Hello, Teddy,” he murmurs as his arm wraps carefully around a small body. The child’s smile widens into a grin and he giggles.

“Up! Up!” He demands, hair unconsciously changing to platinum blond.

It gives him an excuse to avoid looking at Harry’s smile to his godson.

*****

People don’t give much attention to him. Mostly, they pretend he doesn’t exist, even when he is standing in front of them. When they are forced to acknowledge him, they usually do so with a flat voice and a blank face, expressing how much they don’t want to. He’s fine with it, even though sometimes it makes him feel so insignificant.

Perhaps that is the purpose.

Still, it is better than the hexes and curses. Those only happen occasionally, maybe once or twice in every two weeks.

He endures it, but he made the house-elves swear not to tell his Mother.

*****

Granger and Weasley visit him sometimes. Today, they are talking over a few cups of tea in the garden of Malfoy Manor.  It’s hard for them, to set foot into the Manor, but they do it anyway, just to check on him, even though Granger still flinches whenever they passed the room where his lunatic Aunt tortured her. He always close the doors whenever they owled to visit.

“Auror training is a bit rough, though. Mostly on the theory classes,” Weasley says, taking a biscuit and biting into it. Granger rolls her eyes as he accidentally spills some crumbs onto his t-shirt.

“Well, I hope you survive,” Draco tells him flatly, but a twitch of his lips betrays his amusement.

Granger grabs a napkin, “He’s just exaggerating, I’m sure.” Nevertheless, her hand is gentle as she helps him clean the crumbs off. Draco’s heart twinges in longing and envy at their closeness, remembering how he once had it too. He buries it deep and tries to forget.

“Is he having difficulties?” He asks, carefully sipping his tea to hide his face. Granger understands him, putting away the napkin and biting her lower lip uneasily. Weasley shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Worry claims him, and his eyes must’ve revealed something, because she hurriedly shakes her head, “He’s fine, Draco.” He lets his shoulders relax slightly, but he knows that he won’t like whatever she will tell him next.

“It’s just... He, um...” she sighs, and tugs a strand of hair that escaped her ponytail, “He got back together with Ginny.”

Draco doesn’t inhale sharply, nor does he gasps in surprise. He carefully sets his cup down, barely a clink as he does, and places his hands in his lap, hiding them from sight as they shake. He looks straight at her and Weasley. “He’s moving on,” he says calmly.

“Yeah,” Weasley sounds uncertain at his lack of reaction, oblivious to the ache that blooms in his chest.

“Good for him.” But he knows Granger sees the pain that he fails to hide in his eyes.

It is after the night falls that he lets the tears come, in the safety of his rooms.

*****

The breeze that blows pass them is calming. It is a quiet day, with no homework that they need to do. The weight of his head on his lap is comforting, as is the soft feel of his hair between his fingers. Draco looks out to the Great Lake, his movement is automatic as his thoughts drift to a dark place. And he worries; he broods, because that’s what he does.

“Hey,” he calls his attention softly, and Draco immediately looks to him, even though he knows that his eyes betray his conflicting thoughts.

Still he smiles to him, “Hello.”

Beautiful, beautiful green eyes stares at him, his lips forming a frown that Draco wants to erase with a kiss. He reaches for his left arm, and it takes all of his effort not to flinch away from the touch. Gently, he rolls up the sleeve of his robes and uniform, revealing the Dark Mark that fills Draco with such shame-...

He kisses his wrist, lips warm on his pulse and Draco almost jumps in fright, because how can he do that without feeling the disgust that Draco feels whenever he looks at the damn thing?

But he holds the kiss there for long seconds before pulling away and staring back into Draco’s eyes, his own filled with such conviction and determination, “We’ll be okay.”

Draco kisses him, slowly and tenderly, before releasing him and resting his forehead on his chest. He cries, silently even though he knows that he can feel his tears soaking his shirt. Because he knows what he has to do, and it hurts as there won’t be any more ‘we’ after what he will need to do. But he doesn’t know, doesn’t say anything and just strokes Draco’s hair as Draco cries to the ‘thump, thump, thump’ of his heartbeat.

*****

“Draco, please...”

“No, Granger. Thank you, but no.”

“He will be able to remember. I know he will. I can tell him about it and he will wait-...”

“NO!” He snaps, desperate and cornered because she needs to stop giving him such hope-

Granger backs away, eyes wide in surprise, but not hurt. He withdraws, resting his head in his hands, horrified with himself. “Please,” he says, voice trembling. Draco doesn’t care to hide it anymore, “Let him be. He doesn’t need to remember me. He’s happy now, don’t-... don’t ruin his happiness.”

She doesn’t say another word. She just comes to his side and hugs him as he tries to stop the shuddering and evening out his breaths.

He’s grateful for Weasley’s absence.

*****

“Darling,” his Mother calls fondly, smiling to him from where she is seated in front of the fireplace, on her favourite armchair next to his Father’s. He returns it, but he fails to smile for her as her smile turns into a frown and her eyes glitters with worry. She sets down her embroidery to the small table next to her, “What’s wrong, my dear?”

She opens her arms for him and he comes to her, feeling like a child but needing his Mother’s comfort. He kneels in front of her and lays his head on her lap, slumping dejectedly as her arm circles his shoulders and her hand strokes his head, like he was five again and woke up from a nightmare, searching for her as he cried.

He doesn’t cry now, because he feels that’s all he does these days and he doesn’t want to worry her even more.

Mother’s hand is gentle and familiar, and he hugs her waist loosely. “Draco?”

Draco forces a steady breath, “I’m fine, Mum. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Her breath catches, because her son hadn’t called her so since he was seven years old. Her hand doesn’t falter, but she sense his distress, “Oh, darling.”

“I’m fine.” It hurts.

*****

Teddy is sleeping on his shoulder, tired after all the celebration. Draco had tried to put him down, but he squirms every time and almost wakes up crying, the same if someone tried to remove him from Draco. So all he can do is sit back and hold the boy as he sleeps. It’s Teddy’s first birthday party, and the party meant for all of friends and family to come. He had braced himself before coming with his Mother’s arm in his, but the pain had flared up the moment he saw the couple.

Draco’s right with his assumption. Harry looks so happy, smiling and laughing, with the youngest Weasley holding his arm and smiling with him. He could barely greet them properly before excusing himself, retreating to calm down and returning to the party shortly after. It was easy to avoid the happy couple after that, as there were many people to talk to. He chatted with his Aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Longbottom, Luna, Granger and Weasley, and even the other Weasley siblings. Draco played with Teddy and helped him introduced himself, anything but talking to Harry or girl-Weasley.

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, gently moving the rocking chair with his feet. Draco doesn’t want to see them, whispering together, eyes shining with mirth and shared joke. He used to be the one who shared it with him, and he doesn’t want to be reminded of what he had lost. Rocking back and forth gently with the weight of Teddy’s small body against him, he wraps his arms around the boy, taking comfort in his warmth. And he falls asleep.

Later, he dreams that someone drapes a blanket on him and Teddy. The vivid colour of those beautiful green eyes, so tender and fond has him smiling at his dream in recognition and affection. Draco whispers quietly in longing, “Harry...” All he feels is the dull ache in his heart, but he doesn’t prevent it from his voice.

After all, it is merely a dream.

*****

“I don’t understand your fascination with my hair,” he says in bemusement as Draco gently strokes his head. They are once again under a tree beside the Great Lake. However, this time, Draco has him leaning on his shoulder as they look out to the vast lake together.

Draco chuckles in response to his statement. “It’s so soft, don’t you know?” he tugs gently before going back to his stroking. He lets his nails scrapes the scalp carefully, drawing a content sigh that makes his heart clench.

“S’nice...” he says sleepily. A yawn escapes him, and he covers his mouth with his free hand, as the other is busy tracing nonsensical patterns on Draco’s thigh. He nuzzles further into Draco’s neck, kissing the small exposed patch of pale skin there.

Draco turns his head to kiss his forehead, “Tired?”

“Mm-hmm. Late night. Homework,” he mumbles into Draco’s skin. Still he leaves small kisses wherever he can reach.

Draco lays his head on top of his; never stop stroking the soft dark hair as he does. “Sleep now,” he murmurs softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He adjusts himself to a more comfortable position on Draco’s shoulder and slips an arm around Draco’s waist.

“Hmm... Sing for me?”

“Of course.” And he sings, just a lullaby that his Mother used to sing to him when he was small every day before he sleeps. His hand never falters in his stroking, even after he falls asleep and Draco’s voice shakes. It takes everything he has not to stop his tender ministration.

He reaches for his wand, still singing even as his breath comes in gasps, and points it to the head of the boy sleeping on his shoulder. Draco kisses the top of his head and lingers there. “I love you,” he says, tears staining his cheeks, “Obliviate.” The green light hits his head, and Draco whispers, over and over, “You researched the Horcruxes with Hermione and Ron and suspected that Malfoy Imperiused Katie and poisoned Ron.”

Afterwards, with a broken heart, he pulls his happiest memory, “Expecto Patronum.” The long-haired Collie takes form, ethereal and beautiful. “Find Granger and Weasley,” he tells it, “Tell them to take Harry back to his dorm and to take care of him.” When it’s gone, Draco leans back and savours the weight of Harry on his side.

He hides as Granger and Weasley arrive, just to make sure they have Harry, before running back to the castle.

Chapter Text

There’s something missing.

He had gotten better in ignoring it, but lately the feeling comes back stronger every time. It usually comes when he’s at Andromeda’s house, visiting Teddy and checking on Andromeda. She’s usually in the sitting room with Narcissa. Harry tried to dismiss it, which now seems like an impossible task as he wonders just what is missing.

It started on his Sixth year. He remembered the feeling of cluelessness that claimed him as soon as he woke up, along with something akin to loss, although he didn’t know what he’d lost before going to sleep. It feels like something important, something that he would grieve over, but Harry can’t figure out just what it is that he’s supposed to find.

After the war, he thought that it was just because he and Ginny weren’t together. Ginny smiled widely when he asked her to continue their relationship, yet it still doesn’t erase the acute feeling of... something. He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. Should he is asked to describe it –not that anyone knows that he’s feeling this way- he would say that it’s like he has this gaping hole that can’t be filled.

Harry hates not knowing.

*****

He charges after Malfoy, who’s weaving his way between students, rushing off as soon as Harry looks at him in the Great Hall. The flicker of something, something which looks a lot like guilt, on his face was all Harry needs to know that Malfoy was the one who hurt Katie and Ron. Harry doubles his effort, just barely keeping him in sight by the colour of Malfoy’s bright hair. The pounding of his heart, filled with adrenaline, is almost drowning the sound of their footsteps.

Turning around the corner, he barely sees Malfoy entering the abandoned girls’ lavatory. Quickening his steps, Harry enters the bathroom and makes sure that he does so silently. Malfoy was standing in front of the row of sinks, shoulders trembling and soft sobs emitting out of him. His usually neat hair is a mess, and his discarded school vest is lying on the ground a bit farther from where he’s standing.

“I know what you did, Malfoy!” Harry tightens his grip on the book as Malfoy turns, looking very much like a cornered beast, with his wild eyes looking so scared, “You hexed her, didn’t you?”

Malfoy’s face changes into something feral, and he throws a jinx to Harry. He sidesteps it just in time and throws one back, hitting the sinks as Malfoy avoids it. It’s hardly a duel, and it’s all happening so quickly. But when Malfoy’s eyes glisten and he raises his wand, Harry doesn’t hesitate.

“SECTUMSEMPRA!”

And it hits. The spell that Harry doesn’t even know finds its mark, hitting Malfoy’s chest and blasting him out of Harry’s sight with a cry of pain. There’s no sound in the bathroom save for the flowing water from the sinks, suddenly so loud after the exchanges of curses and jinxes. Warily, Harry approaches Malfoy, hearing the small gasps of pain as he draws nearer and nearer.

The pool of blood, colouring the water around Malfoy red is sickening.

Harry is immediately gripped by regret and distress as he barely hears Snape passing by him. The teacher’s eyes pierced him, and Harry glances down to Malfoy once again before fleeing out of the room, horrified with himself. The repeated echoes of murmured ‘Vulnera Sanentur’ barely reach him as Harry goes to find his friends.

*****

Hermione’s gasp in horror and Ron’s sharp inhale are enough indications to let him know that he cocked it up badly. Ginny is the only one who doesn’t react strongly, only surprised. Hermione lifts her hand to her mouth, “Harry.” She sounds so mournful, “Why would you do that?”

He drops his head as Ron reaches for her, snaking an arm around her shoulders. “I... It’s- I didn’t know what the spell does. I would never-“

A small hand lays on his shoulder, and Ginny comes closer to him, “It’s okay, Har-“

“IT IS NOT OKAY, GINNY!” Hermione cries out as she stands, her eyes glittering dangerously, surprises both Harry and Ginny as they look up to her. “HOW COULD YOU SAY SUCH A THING? HE MAY BE MALFOY, BUT HE’S JUST LIKE US!”

The red-headed girl frowns, “I don’t see how we need to worry about him.”

“Shut up, Gin,” Ron says, making her splutter indignantly. Before she can properly say something, Ron gives his sister a glare, “I’m ashamed that you can talk so lowly about someone’s life, no matter whose it is.”

Ginny’s face reddens, and she storms off in anger, leaving the three best friends alone. “You don’t need to be so harsh on her, Ron,” Harry scowls at him. But Ron’s eyes keep their disapproving stare on Harry’s, not even wavering for a second. Silence reigns for a while as Hermione evens out her breath.

“You need to get rid of that book,” Hermione says quietly, slipping back into her seat. She sounds so defeated and worn out, “That book is nothing but trouble, Harry. You have to get rid of it immediately.”

Harry can do nothing but nod, feeling like he’s ruined something he’ll forever regret.

*****

“Well, Draco?” Lucius says, almost impatiently as he nudges his son forward. “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

Harry sees the flash of recognition in Malfoy’s eyes even through the swelling that his right eye suffers. And he knows that their lives are in Malfoy’s hands. He seems to be looking at Harry closely; something unrecognisable crossing his face before his mask is back on, preventing any emotion to come through. Malfoy moves back, his steps uncertain, “I-... I don’t know, Father.”

“Oh, come on, dear!” Bellatrix’s shrilly voice said as she shoves Malfoy even nearer to Harry, “Look at him real close! He must be Harry Potter!” With one last shove that brings him to his knees, she cackles, “Don’t be shy now, Draco! Tell us if it’s him!”

Harry doesn’t know what he’s thinking, but Malfoy stands steadily and looks down at him, a slight sneer in place as he straightens his black robes. A flash of something soften his eyes, and Harry could’ve sworn that it was sadness, but it’s gone before he can know what it was. The shrill madness and insanity of Bellatrix’s voice pierces Harry, “WELL?”

“I-“ Malfoy starts, but then he shuts his mouth and looks to the fire that crackles loudly, “I can’t be sure, Aunt Bella.”

Harry tastes hope.

*****

Breaking apart from Ginny, who has been clinging to him most of the night, Harry makes his way to the sitting room. He saw Malfoy taking Teddy there almost half an hour ago, and he thought that maybe he could play with Teddy for a while before he has to take Ginny home. Walking quickly as he doesn’t want Ginny to follow, he enters the room.

And stops short.

Malfoy is sitting on the rocking chair, holding a sleeping, platinum blond Teddy close to his body and sleeping with the toddler. His hair hangs loosely as his head leans slightly to a side, framing his relaxed face, but his arms are securely around the small body on his lap. Looking at the two of them, Harry is filled with warmth that he doesn’t understand. They look like father and son, with Teddy’s hair matching Malfoy’s.

Deciding not to wake them, Harry carefully takes the wool blanket that drapes the back of the sofa and goes nearer to the (temporarily) two sleeping blonds. He drapes the soft fabric over both of them slowly, but Malfoy stirs and blinks blearily at him, still mostly asleep. And it is such a rare sight, to see his face so clear of the guarded look that he usually has, that Harry feels his eyes soften.

Malfoy blinks slowly, and then a small, tired, sorrowful smile appears on his lips. “Harry...” he whispers wistfully, no louder than a soft sigh that Harry would’ve missed had he not standing as close as he is. Harry’s heart clenches painfully, but Malfoy has already settled back into the chair, making it rock softly as his arms pulls Teddy closer.

He walks out of the room in a daze, confusion filling his mind as the memory of soft grey eyes plays over and over.

*****

The Malfoy he knew doesn’t look so resigned. He would’ve sneer at everyone that he thought as beneath him. Yet the man sitting on the raised platform only looks forlorn. The pale complexion of his skin is sickly; his hair is curling, messy, and dirty, making the blond colour almost brown. His shoulders slumps dejectedly even as he sits straight in the wooden chair. Mocking sneers and angry scowls are directed at him from every direction of the court room.

Harry had said his statement for Malfoy, but all the while, Malfoy only looks into his eyes blankly. When it is decided for him to be free with social services, he doesn’t rejoice or smile. His lips thinned and he only nods in thanks to the Auror who uncuffs him. Malfoy’s mother comes forward and hugs her son, and Malfoy buries his face into her hair as his hands come up to her back, murmuring soft words to his mother.

When Harry meets him outside, he looks at Harry for long moments with a blank face and sorrowful eyes. “Thank you –for returning my wand and for your statement in the court room. Please tell Granger and Weasley the same, and that I’m sorry that I cannot say it to them myself.” Before Harry can say anything to him, he turns and gently leads his mother home.

He tells Hermione and Ron what he said. She just smiles sadly, “I’m glad for him.” And Ron silently agrees with her, gently squeezing her shoulder.

*****

“Malfoy?” he asks in surprise. Harry doesn’t expect to see him again, much less at the front door of Andromeda’s home.

The man looks better than he did in the court room, his appearance much improved as he wears a dark grey waistcoat over crisp white shirt and dark grey trousers, matches with a fitted trench coat. He looks as surprised as Harry is, but then Harry sees his mother slightly behind him, “Mrs. Malfoy. Can I help you?”

Narcissa smiles politely at him, moving forward as Malfoy steps aside to let her does so, “I’m here to see my sister, Mr. Potter. Is she home?”

“Um, yes. Of course. Please come in,” Harry opens the door wider to let the two in before closing the door and locking it. He turns around to see Malfoy helping his mother out of her outer coat and hanging it up. “She’s in the sitting room,” he decides to lead them there, even though the short walk is filled with a slightly awkward silence.

“Andromeda,” he calls to the woman who’s playing with Teddy on the sofa, “You have guests.”

She looks up, and when she sees Narcissa, her eyes turn teary as she stands and walks up to them. “Cissy,” she says softly, stopping just a few feet away. Harry makes his way to Teddy, who babbles nonsensical noises on the sofa, watching with interest to the adults. Malfoy also carefully walk in, giving the women some space.

“Andy,” it is the first time that Harry sees Narcissa Malfoy looks so vulnerable, moving forward to hug her sister.

“Ish?” Teddy says, tugging at Harry’s jumper’s sleeve. His twinkling eyes are fixed on Malfoy, who looks back curiously. Teddy looks up to Harry and asks again, “Ish?”

“That’s Malfoy, Teddy,” he says, smiling down at the boy.  Teddy looks back to Malfoy, eyes curious and bright.

“’foy?”

Malfoy steps closer, “I’m Draco.” His face is serious as he talks to Teddy, leaning down the back of the sofa so he can looks at Teddy at the same eye level.

“Day?” Teddy says, confused between calling him Malfoy as Harry said, or Draco, as he introduced himself.

The blond smiles to Teddy. “Yes. Day it is,” he says, making the small boy beam in glee.

*****

Diagon Alley is bustling with many people as Harry passes by, occasionally smiling to the people who calls out to him. Looking at some small shops that interest him, he can’t help but wonder what Teddy would want. He’s spoiling the boy, but Harry can’t help it. After a deprived childhood, he wants Teddy to always be happy. When he looks up from an array of small toys, he sees a platinum blond hair walking away slowly, a few metres from where he stands.

Against his judgement, he calls out, “Malfoy!”

The man stops, looking left and right before turning sideways, seeing Harry waving at him. He nods slightly, but his eyes widen slightly when Harry jogs toward him. Malfoy buries his nose into the soft blue scarf as he waits for Harry, moving to the side to allow people to walk easily. Just as Harry almost reaches him, a loud, “DIFFINDO!” pierces the sounds of the crowd.

Harry stares in horror as the spell catches the right side of Malfoy’s face, who barely able to cast a shield charm before the spell connects. The shield blocks the worst of it, but Malfoy hisses in pain, covering his face with a gloved hand, and Harry hurries to him, catching sight of the man who attacked him. With a quick Incarcerous, Harry manages to apprehend the man.

A shop owner, who sees what happened is already calling the Aurors, so Harry leaves the man there as he checks on Malfoy, “Are you okay? Did it hit you badly?”

Malfoy lifts his head, still pressing down on his wound. Some of the blood drops down his chin, making it look like he’s crying blood. His left eye glisten in pain, but he manages a half-hearted smirk, “I think I’m quite lucky with that shield charm.”

Harry gapes at him, “Merlin, you’re bleeding badly! Come on, we need to go to St. Mungo’s!”

But Malfoy shakes his head carefully, “No. The house-elves in the Manor will be able to heal me. There’s no need to go to St. Mungo’s.”

Scowling, Harry takes his left wrist and Apparates them both before Malfoy can protest.

*****

Whenever Ginny leans on him, Harry feels as if he’s the one who should be leaning against someone.

When they hug, Ginny can’t hold his weight, so he needs to be the one who stands straight as she slumps against him. But Harry wants to lean against someone who’ll let him slump against them, like Ron and Hermione let him do with them. Now, whenever he leans against Ron’s arm or Hermione’s head, it doesn’t seem right anymore. He gets the sense that he used to leans against someone’s shoulder, but he can’t remember who it was that let him leans his weight and burdens them with it.

The same thing happens whenever Ginny plays with his hair. She’s too enthusiastic and her hand is too small. He can feel a phantom weight sometimes, like the sensation of someone gently carding their hands through his hair and tugs on the strands.

The warmth behind his back when he’s sleeping is replaced by cold sheets, but he knows that it’s not Ginny that he’s remembering, because he feels like it’s not his bed that he was sleeping on when he felt that, but he can’t pinpoint where he felt that particular sensation. Or the weight of someone’s arm around his waist when he sleeps.

Who made him feel so at ease?

*****

She’s in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, humming to herself as she makes tea. Harry, after worrying about Malfoy and informing both Narcissa and Andromeda about what happened, feels so exhausted that he slumps on the dining table. He runs a hand through his hair, “Mione?”

Hermione turns to him with a small smile, before taking in his tired expression and frowning in worry, “What’s wrong, Harry? Weren’t you just meeting with Teddy?” She stirs the sugar in her tea slowly before taking another cup down, placing a teabag into it, and pouring the hot water.

“I met Malfoy in Diagon Alley.”

She freezes, before setting down the kettle back on the stove and turning to look at him properly, “What happened?”

Harry tells her, and she looks so mad when she heard what the man did, but she stays silent until after he finishes. Hermione takes the two cups to the table, putting one in front of him, and sits down across Harry. She takes a sip while Harry closes his fingers around his cup, sighing gratefully, “Thank you.”

She nods and puts down her cup. Hermione released her breath, “Did the Aurors arrest the man?”

They did, because Harry made sure of it. She seems satisfied with that answer and doesn’t say anything else.

And later, he would blame it on his exhaustion, but he drinks some of his tea before asking, “Do you ever feel like there’s something that you lost, and you know it’s terribly important, but you just can’t seem to remember?”

Hermione’s cup stops in mid-air before she lets it down gently. Her eyes stares at him seriously, “Since when have you been feeling like this?” She seems to know what he’s asking, so Harry tells her everything, from that sense of something’s missing to the unusual need to lean against someone specific. Harry can see that she listens attentively even when she sips her tea.

“It’s just... bizarre, really,” he says quietly, concluding his explanation.

His best friend sighs and puts down her empty cup before twisting a strand of her hair. She seems unsure how to continue. “Harry,” she says, a bit sad, “Do you remember how I Obliviated my parents?”

Carefully, because it’s still hurts for her as they haven’t remembered everything, he nods. She nods back and leans to her chair, looking up to the ceiling, “You were also did, Harry.”

“...what?”

She closes her eyes like it pains her to say what she’s going to say. “In Sixth year, you were Obliviated, Harry.”

Chapter Text

He wakes with the sensation of fingertips tracing his inner forearm. Instinctively, he tenses up, but the fingertips are replaced by a rough hand that rests on his abdomen, “It’s okay, Draco, it’s just me.” And it helps to know that Harry is the one doing it, because Harry doesn’t look at him with accusing eyes. Opening his eyes slowly, he peers down to his chest and sees Harry smiling at him, green eyes bright and charming without the barrier that his eyeglasses provided.

“Morning,” he says quietly, lifting a hand to stroke Harry’s hair and watching his lover leans into his touch.

With a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, Harry lays his chin upon his chest and smiles tenderly to him, “G’morning, Draco.”

*****

The white ceiling of the Hospital Wing greets him when he regains consciousness. Through muddled mind, Draco tries to remember what had gotten him there.

“Ron! He’s awake!” come the whispered exclamation.

He turns his head slowly to her voice, to see her worried face and Weasley’s concerned one. And he remembers the slicing pain that sears through his torso, almost reaching up to his face. Draco remembers his break down and the beautiful green eyes burning with rage and hatred directed to him. Remembers his determination to hide his pain and act his part as the hated rival, as the enemy. Remembers the way that he thought, ‘This is it. I’ll die here at his hands. At least this way, I won’t be holding him back any longer. Maybe the pain will go away.’

“Malfoy?” Granger’s hesitant voice comes, and when he focuses back to his visitors, he knows that their understanding eyes and sad, regretful expressions are genuine. She sighs tiredly, tugging her own curls in agitation, “He regrets hurting you, you know? Are you sure this is the only way? We can just stop the pla-“

“I’m fine, Granger, Weasley.”

Weasley splutters in bewilderment, “F-fine? You could’ve died, you prat! I may not like you, but that doesn’t mean I want you dead!”

Draco takes in his indignant face and her shocked eyes, returning them with a blank stare that hides none of his pain. “Let him hate me,” he turns back to look at the ceiling once more. “Let him forget.”

*****

 “Harry,” he calls quietly, unwilling to risk the anger of Madam Pince. His boyfriend looks up from the book he was reading, appearing more dishevelled than ever. There are dark shadows under his eyes, his hair is an even bigger mess that it usually is, his uniform wrinkled, and he seems to be ready to just collapse, only awake from sheer determination alone. Draco bit his lower lip in worry, but he smiles back when an exhausted grin appears on Harry’s face.

With a soft kiss to chapped lips, he sits next to him and scoots closer before pulling Harry’s head to his shoulder. “Draco,” he sighs in a mix of content and exhaustion, “I need to keep looking. There’s gotta be a way for you to come with us.”

“No, Harry. You need to take a shower and sleep. This is not healthy, love. You’re starting to fall behind in classes and your friends are starting to ask where you are. Granger and Weasley can only do so much to distract them all. Not to mention that you look like you are about ready to sleep on whatever whenever.”

He feels Harry shaking his head in disagreement, “I’m fine-“

“Harry,” Draco says sternly, cutting him off before he can deny his exhaustion. “You are not eating properly, you are not sleeping, and you rarely even go back to your own common room. I understand that you want to find a solution, but this is not the way to do it.” He waits for him to respond back, but Harry says nothing, stubborn in his silence. Draco sighs, slumping slightly but still supporting Harry’s torso upright, “I’m worried, love. If you insist on your frenzy, you should at least take a rest, but you don’t and it’s worrying me, Granger and Weasley.”

A frustrated sound escapes him and Draco knows that Harry is finally listening to him. He burrows closer into his shoulder and his arms find their way around his waist, “I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave you with the noseless bastard while Ron, Mione, and I are away. It’s too dangerous, Draco. And I don’t know what I’ll do if he somehow hurt you-“

“Shh... he won’t, Harry,” Draco runs a hand on his back, soothing the small trembling that he can feel from Harry. The idea comes back to him, and he bites his lower lip. Harry needs to go for the Horcruxes, he knows. Draco can’t keep him near if he wants to let him go on the hunt. And really, being selfish will only bring chaos, so Draco has to do what’s best for them all.

With a deep breath, Draco runs his hand through Harry’s hair, “If I tell you that I know what we need to do so the hunt can proceed, will you come and eat?”

The smile that he gets is worth the pain in his chest, but he says nothing more about it to Harry, even as he whines all the way to the Great Hall.

*****

Hermoine stares at him in shock, but his eyes are hidden beneath his blond hair. Before she can say anything, Ron slams his hand down the table, face red with anger, “You want to Obliviate him? What the bloody fuck are you thinking, Malfoy?!”

“Ronald!” She says in reprimand. Malfoy didn’t even flinch from the explosive reaction.

Her boyfriend turns to her, “Mione, you can’t be seriously thinking about this! We can’t just erase his memory like that!” Ron is positively furious, but she bites her lower lip in thought, as she considers Malfoy’s words.

“Sit down, Weasley,” the pale blond says, and Hermione can hear the anxiety in his voice, hidden as it is. He runs a hand through his hair in a manner that she knows as a nervous gesture, “Let me explain before you decide to maim me.”

“What’s there to explain?” Ron says crossly, but he sits back down in his chair. The empty classroom is perfectly silent for a while, as Hermione suspects that Malfoy is waiting for Ron to calm his breathing first. It would’ve been strange to consider it a year ago, but she is grateful for his consideration now.

“You were saying, Malfoy?” She coaxes gently.

He lets out a slightly shaky breath that they pretend not to notice before speaking, “You both know well enough that Harry hadn’t been taking care of himself lately. He insists on bringing me with the three of you on the Horcrux hunt, even though I told him that the Dark- that V-Voldemort can track down his Death Eaters through the Dark Mark. The last time I saw him eat properly when he was in his frenzy was almost four days after you ate breakfast together.

“When I told him that I know how to let hunt go as planned, he finally starts to eat and sleep properly again, as you two probably noticed,” she nods in confirmation, and she already knows what he’s planning, but he keeps explaining for Ron’s benefit. Malfoy gives her a nod in return and puts his hands in his lap, “Well, what I mean to say is that I should Obliviate him from the memories of me so he can go on the hunt without anything to hold him back.”

“Yeah, but erasing his memories? We can’t just tamper with his mind like that! You of all people know how hard it is for him when he gets the visions from Voldemort,” Ron argues.

Malfoy just shakes his head, “That’s another reason why we should do this, Weasley. Say that he finally goes on the hunt without me, what’s the guarantee that the D- Voldemort won’t find out about our relationship? We’ve been lucky so far, but if that happens, I’ll be a burden that none of you need.”

Hermione rests a hand on Ron’s arm, stopping him from arguing any longer. The conflicted grey eyes that stare at her betray his distress, even though he maintains his calm facade. She suppresses the urge to comfort him, knowing that he won’t appreciate it, and asks instead, “Are you sure about this?”

Malfoy tries to smirk, but it twists into a grimace, “Hesitation is not an option for me, you know that.”

*****

They’re in the drawing room, and with Draco sitting across from her, the guilt gets a little heavier, especially when she catches the sight of the scar on his face. Hermione bites her lower lip as he sips his tea and sets his cup gently back down. She’s just about to apologise, for assuming, for meddling, but Draco beats her to it, “I had thought that you would’ve done it sooner, knowing your personality.”

Grey eyes catch hers with a flash of warning, the only indication of his anger. Draco sits with every bit of pureblood manners that he was brought up in, straight back and distant with his hand on top of the other, “I’ve asked- pleaded you not to tell him. First sight of chance that you get, that’s exactly what you did. There is no guarantee that he can recover his memories, Granger.  He could’ve gone on with his life, he could’ve been happy, but now that he’s aware, Harry will stop at nothing to get his memories back.”

“He wasn’t happy, Draco!” Hermione says, hating how stubborn she knows Draco can be, “He knew he was missing something important, but no one knew. You were the one who helped me find a way to make my parents remember! There’s a chance for him to remember, Draco. We just need to let him!”

Draco’s hand clench around the fabric of his trousers, his head turned to the side to hide his eyes. He looks every bit like the man she held as he cried on her last visit, closed off as he tries to push away the pain that she can clearly see whenever she looks into his eyes. She sees him take a deep breath and says nothing when his voice shakes, “I can’t put my hopes into a chance, Granger. Nor can him. He should move on with his life without me weighing him down, without my hopes on him remembering everything or his guilt for not being able to do so. After all he’d been through, Harry deserves more than a Death Eater who took away his memories, well-intentioned or not. He deserves ... Harry deserves someone who is not broken as I am.”

And Hermione moves to sit beside him, carefully resting a hand on his shoulder, “He deserves to choose, Draco. Whether he wants to remember or not, it’s his choice. And he chose to try to remember.”But Draco says nothing, still refusing to look at her. “... Please, Draco,” she pleads, “Harry has the right to know.”

Silence reigns for a long moment before he Summons the empty phials into his hands.

*****

His cheek still throbs painfully from Umbridge’s slap, but Harry pays little attention to it as he runs beside his friends back to Umbridge’s office. After the pinky toad is taken care of, there’s no time to waste. They need to go to Sirius and they need to do it fast. With their hurried footsteps echoing in the corridor, Harry doesn’t notice the pale hand that reaches for him until he’s yanked inside an empty classroom.

Stumbling and cursing, he turns to see Malfoy who looks awkwardly uncomfortable standing just a few feet away from Harry. “What the fuck, Malfoy?” the question falls before Harry can soften the words.

Malfoy runs a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily, “Weasley told me where you’re going, Potter.”

“He did?” It’s hard to imagine Ron willingly told Malfoy anything, given their tentative truce.

“Not the point,” Malfoy says hurriedly, “Listen, Potter, my Father sent me an owl this morning. I’ve thought nothing of it, but now that I know where you’re going to go, I realised that he’s plotting something. There was a vague hint or two, but if I know my Father at all, he was giving me a clue that he will be in the Ministry.”

Harry narrows his eyes, taking in the hesitant grey eyes, “How sure are you about this?”

Malfoy falters slightly, perhaps regretting the fact that he’s betraying his family, before he continues, “I’m sure enough to say that you and your friends ought to be careful. I don’t know if he’ll be there, and I hope he’s not, but keep your guards up, Potter. He will not be coming alone from what I read of his letter.”

As he reaches for the door, Harry hesitates, before looking back to Malfoy, “...thank you.”

There’s no reply even as he sprints to his friends, but he saw the pained look on the blond’s face.

*****

He doesn’t move when the blond settles down beside him. Madam Pomfrey is probably going to be worried sick over him but he can’t even bring himself to care, not when the pain of losing Sirius is clenching his heart. Silence settles over them, except for the sound of the crickets and the water lapping at the shore of the lake. It was early. The sun isn’t until at least four more hours, but they’re sitting on the cold ground of the Great Lake with nothing more than their pyjamas and thin coats. Harry curls up tighter to fight the chill. Long after he sat down, Malfoy speaks, “My Father wants me to join the Death Eaters.”

When Harry says nothing, he continues, “That was why he hinted his plans to me in his letter. Before all of this, before we settled on our truce, I would probably join them on my own free will. Now though, no matter how much I don’t want to, Father would make me join them.”

Then Malfoy shifts to face Harry, and he reluctantly turns to the other boy, “The point is that our situations aren’t something we can control, Potter. It’s maddening and almost sickening, and whether you believe me or not, my decision to trust you is probably going to be the only wise choice I made in this war. ”

As he stands to leave, blond hair glowing white in the moonlight, Malfoy pats his shoulder, “I will leave you to grieve, but be sure to hold yourself together, Potter. Use that as your motivation, if you have to.”

*****

He can’t even muster up the energy to feel angry. All he can feel is mostly dejection. But when he sees the way Draco’s hands shake before he manages to hide them, Harry knows that this is something they both need. The silence had filled the room long enough and he wants to ask the questions that are swirling in his mind. What he says, however, doesn’t sound accusing or furious. Just dejected and broken.

“You said you’d be there when I woke up,” he whispers into the room, but he knows Draco heard him. He just chose to stay quiet, to give Harry time to say what he needs to say.

“I don’t understand, Draco. After I remembered most of the memories, Hermione explained why you did it. Even though I hate your decision, I can understand why it was necessary. I know that I wouldn’t agree to it if you told me, I know that was why you didn’t ask for my permission,” Harry rakes a hand through his hair. That’s when he realises that he’s shaking, from anger or distress, he doesn’t know. He looks up to Draco, “What I don’t understand is why you don’t want me to remember. Don’t you want me anymore? I know I hurt you badly during the war, I know that I hated you after I lost my memories. Is that why you don’t want me to remember? Because you don’t feel the same any longer?”

Draco crosses the distance between them so quickly that Harry doesn’t get any chance to brace himself. His face is hidden in the crook of Draco’s shoulder while his trembling arms wrap around Draco’s neck. Draco’s gotten taller since the last time they were in this position, his body curling around Harry as if to shield him from the world. Strong arms, almost trembling as badly as his, circle his waist and pull him closer to Draco. He presses closer, ignoring the uncomfortable feel of his glasses against his nose.

“I betrayed you,” Draco says to him mournfully, “after I told you that I’ll stay by your side. The only thing that kept me going during the war was the thought of you, still fighting. Still so determined. I would have given you the world, should you ask for it. I love you too much not to. I had thought that you’ll be better off without me dragging you down. It was your chance for a normal life, your chance to be happy without the past hanging over your shoulder. Ginevra wouldn’t remind you of all the bad things that happened to you. If that was what it takes for your happiness, I would keep the memories from intervening.”

Draco pulls back and takes his face between his hands, cradling him carefully and wiping the tears away, grey eyes glistening as he smiles sadly at him, “I’m so sorry, Harry, for making the decisions on my own.” He kisses his forehead and Harry tightens his hold around his neck, “But even if you decided that you hate me, don’t you ever think that I don’t love you.”

 Shaking his head, Harry hides his face back to Draco’s shoulder and leans his weight to him. Draco keeps them upright and returns his arms to Harry’s waist. Harry whispers those three words into the pale skin of his neck, feeling the relieved laugh shaking Draco’s chest when he continues, “Even though you’re an idiot.”

“We’ll figure this out, love. I’m yours for as long as you want me.”