What Time Can't Erase 6/7
Title: What Time Can't Erase 6/7
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These definitely aren't mine. Characters and the plots of the Harry Potter series are property of JK Rowling.
Summary: Harry Potter is an average New York City cop. A not-so-average blond man and a frustrating case have Harry questioning everything. This fic is not AU, even if the summary makes it sound like it. It falls under the Harry Potter fanfic classification of EWE (epilogue, what epilogue?)
A/N: I have no idea how long ago I started writing it. But well, now it's finished, so ... enjoy.
A/N: Extra special double update for devilaugh before she goes to China
Part 6:
“I did it, oh god, I did it, please don’t peel my skin off my body.”
Harry’s head snapped up at the cry as did every other officer’s in the station. Sorensen went toward the man that Harry immediately recognized as Barnes. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt that was ripped in places. His smirk was gone, and his eyes were wild with alarm.
“Potter. Detective Potter, where is he?”
Harry stood up and Barnes lurched toward him, arms out, but he didn’t make it far before two officers had him subdued on the ground. Barnes kept muttering, “I did it, I did it, please, I did it.”
The officer led him into an interrogation room, and Harry watched.
His eyes found Kat’s. She was just as surprised as he was.
“Why don’t all the bad guys do this?” Kat said.
Harry and a few others laughed. Harry quickly gathered his notes.
“Sorenson, go ask him some questions. Where is Randall?” Harry asked.
“Out at lunch.”
“Good. Fuck him.”
“Potter,” Kat said.
Harry gave her a loopy smile, and then went to the viewing room to see Barnes questioned.
Harry’s world went insane. Bella’s body was found right where Barnes said it would be, and there was enough evidence in and around the area to convict Barnes and the ex-boyfriend Mutton of the crime. His testimony didn’t make sense at first, but when he realized that no one was willing to make a deal, he accepted his fate, confessed, and he was arrested and thrown in jail, and after two weeks of this sort of insanity, Harry had a chance to relax.
Or he tried.
Draco Malfoy and the golden ball plagued his mind. He stored the ball in a drawer, out of sight, but it kept popping up in his even more detailed dreams. Broomsticks and balls flying everywhere, walls of a castle bathed in gold and red banners. Lions and snakes. And always Draco. Across a crowded cafeteria that looked nothing like the cafeteria in Harry’s memories. Across a classroom. A smirk. Through an old village.
Harry wondered if there was such a thing as voodoo.
When he started dreaming about Draco naked and Draco actually smiling at him, it was too much. Something was going on. He knew it, but how would he prove something that was all in his head?
After waking up near tears again, Harry decided he wanted answers. He dressed enough to be decent and hailed a cab. He went to Malfoy Enterprises and Davis, the doorman, buzzed him in. It’d been almost three weeks since he had last seen Draco.
“Good almost morning, Mister Potter. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Sorry, Davis. I should have called. Is Malfoy here?”
“Yes, Mister Malfoy is here. Do you want me to buzz him and-“
“No, I’ll just go up.”
“Okay, Mister Potter.”
Harry hit the elevator and wondered if there wasn’t a faster way to get from place to place. There had to be soon. One day, someone would learn how to teleport. The elevator door opened and Harry spent another long ride up to the tenth floor. They needed a faster elevator.
Harry stepped out of the elevator, and he was surprised to see lights on. A familiar feeling of water trickling over his shoulders made him pause in the front hall, and he stood there for a moment before the feeling stopped.
“Harry.”
“Why do I feel like two different people and why do I think you have something to do with it?”
Draco stared at him, and then smirked and gestured to his left. He walked in front, and Harry followed him into the elaborate apartment.
“Sounds like you need to talk to a psychiatrist. I thought capturing Barnes would get you back to making sense.”
Harry sat hard on the bar stool and put his face in his hands. “So did I, but …”
“But …” Draco prompted and poured Harry a tumbler full of amber whiskey.
Harry grunted his thanks and sipped at it, choking when it burned down his throat. “What the hell is this shit?”
Draco smirked again. “From Britain. Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey. It has a bit of a kick to it.”
"No kidding." Harry raised the glass in a toast and downed the rest of it. Draco poured him another and against his better judgment he drank that one too.
“So,” Draco said, “you were blaming your psychosis on me?”
Harry took a very deep breath. “It feels normal to blame you for everything, so yeah. I don’t know why it feels normal to do that, but it does, so therefore, this is all your fault.”
Draco laughed. “So you haven’t come to beg for my affections?”
Harry snorted. “No. I still--I don’t know. I can’t explain how frustrating this is. I can’t stand people like you, Malfoy, but you’re different than … than what? Than before? I haven’t known you for long enough to know that you’re different than you were before, but when was that before?”
“ You've gone completely bonkers. Off your rocker.”
“Have I?”
“Well, not completely. Let me shag you one more time before they admit you into the psychiatric ward of Saint Mungo’s.”
“Saint Mungo’s?”
“It’s a hospital in London. Fancy a shag, Potter?”
Harry sighed. “Yeah, no thanks.”
“Too bad. You staying over?”
Harry looked up from the glass and met Draco’s eyes. He stared back, unflinching. It was an invitation. That was all. Nothing nefarious or sly in his gaze.
When had he gotten so suspicious of everything that concerned Draco? Again, it felt like it had always been this way.
“I didn't mean to wake you up,” Harry said.
“I wasn't asleep. I do business in London, remember? Someone called me an hour ago and I’ve been on the phone since then.”
“Oh.”
Draco put the dirtied glasses in the sink, and then walked around the bar. Harry turned to keep him in sight, and then stiffened when Draco moved between his legs. It was similar to his first night here, and so many nights after that, but the feeling was definitely different.
Draco rubbed his hands on Harry’s thighs, nails catching on the tattered edges of denim. “No tricks, no perverseness. I will control myself.”
“I’ll sleep on your couch.”
Draco pouted and said, “That is unacceptable.”
“So is this,” Harry said and grabbed Draco’s wrists.
Draco flipped his hands so he was holding Harry’s wrists, and then started walking backwards. Harry could easily free himself, despite how strong Draco’s grip was, but he let himself be led into the bedroom.
“When was the last time you had a good, good sleep?”
“The last time you fucked me.”
“You’re welcome, but that was almost a month ago.”
“I know.”
“Sit.”
Harry sighed and obeyed. He didn't object when Draco pulled off his shoes and socks, or when his hands slid up his legs to take off his jeans. His cock was half hard, growing in his boxers, but Draco ignored it. He lifted his hand, paused for a moment, and then got up to douse the lights.
Harry shifted up on the bed, pulling the blanket over him. He was tense until Draco lay next to him, arm around his stomach, face at his neck, breathing softly.
“Sleep, Harry. You need to sleep.”
“I need to forget.”
“You’ve already forgotten.”
---/---
Black cloaked figures surround him. Others are fighting, shouts and cries echoing in his ears. Bodies lay strewn on the grounds of what he considers his home. They will all pay, even if he has to die for it. Even if he has to sacrifice himself, so that the rest can fight and win. He is evil. Neither can live while the other survives. He sees mouths move. Feels his own move in response, and then everything is green and his body falls to the ground.
---/---
Harry woke up whimpering, body twisting and uncontrollable. He’d been dead. Completely and utterly dead. Wasn’t there a rule that if you died in a dream you died in real life?
Soft hands rubbed his forehead and arms. He focused on the pale face above him.
“Are you awake now?” Draco asked.
“Why aren’t I dead, Draco?”
Draco smiled. “Well, it isn’t because of a lack of trying, believe me.”
Harry shut his eyes and gripped Draco’s arms. “I don’t want to sleep anymore. I don’t want to dream. I don’t want to remember. Please. Don’t make me remember.”
“Why?”
“It hurts. God, Draco, it hurts so much.”
“What hurts?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Isn’t that good? That you don’t remember what hurts?”
“But I will. I don’t want to remember.”
Draco’s face was conflicted. “I don’t want you to remember either, but it’s too late anyway.”
“What’s too late?”
Draco ran his hand over Harry’s cheek. “You already remember that you hate me. Nothing else really matters to me. You could have died. You could have been gone forever. I didn't care about you at all when you disappeared.”
“Stop, please. Please. Stop talking.”
“Okay.” After a moment, Draco said, “I made you a cup of tea when you first started thrashing about and making it impossible for me to sleep.”
Harry turned to the nightstand. He rubbed his palms against his eyes and sat up against the headboard. He picked up the warm cup. He shut his eyes and sipped at the tea while dream after dream plagued his mind like they were memories. Everything was so real.
“It all feels so real,” Harry muttered.
“Dreams can be like that.”
Harry met his eyes. “Dreams or memories?”
Draco ran his hand on Harry’s arm, for comfort and Harry leaned against the headboard and put the tea down. Harry pulled Draco against his body, and Draco easily fell into his side, head tucked under Harry’s chin. Harry shut his eyes and squeezed too tightly.
It all seemed so real. Was this just part of his dream? What was reality? What about the man in his arms? What were they? Who had they been? Who were they now?
Why was Harry even considering that this was real?
Real or not, Harry had to ask.
“Did I do that to you?” he whispered, fingers sliding to Draco’s side, over his shirt. One of the deep lacerations had gone around his ribs, and Harry found the edge of the deep scar with his fingertips.
Draco stiffened, and then propped up on a hand. He looked at Harry and shook his head.
“Tell me," Harry pleaded.
“I thought you wanted to forget.”
“I’m sorry, if I did, please, I--” Harry shut his eyes again, fighting off the imagery in his head. A thin, unhealthy Draco, already so abused, so used. And Harry. Anger coiling through him.
But there wasn’t a blade in his hand. Just a piece of wood, and then Draco was bleeding on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, unaware of the tears on his cheeks until Draco was wiping them away.
“It’s okay. You already apologized. More than once. Gryffindor pride and honor and all that.”
Harry didn't know what that meant.
“You didn't know what the spell would do. You were in the right that day. As usual.”
Harry snorted and turned his face away to wipe his cheeks. “I doubt that.”
“More than I was, anyway.”
Harry took a deep breath. “Granted that all of this is real, and that I … we … why can’t you let me forget?”
“I told you, Harry, I wanted to. You left. You left everyone. I didn’t care. No one expected me to care. But Weasley and Granger-”
His ever helpful dream-memory supplied an image of two people. One was Ronald Weasley and the other with bushy hair. Her name was Hermione?
“-are stubborn. You’re the Golden Trio, except they’re missing their third. I told them to leave it alone, that you disappeared for a reason and obviously didn’t want to be found, but Granger is as determined as you are when you’re chasing down the Snitch.”
“The what?”
Draco smiled and shook his head. “Never mind.”
“No, wait, that … that ball, you gave me.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Why do I have dreams of flying? Why do I have dreams of us flying? And fire?”
Draco’s face shut down. It was instantaneous. His eyes hardened, and his lips went into thin lines.
This time, it was Harry reaching for Draco, lightly touching his face.
Draco flinched and then shook his head. He inhaled deeply. “Now that is one day that I would not mind forgetting. It was … stupid. And I was wrong, and-”
Harry pulled Draco to his lips and kissed him quiet.
Draco made a single noise of protest, and then kissed him back.
“Don’t,” Harry whispered against his lips. “Not if remembering causes you pain.”
“So you bear it alone? How very typical of Harry Potter.”
Harry pulled far enough away to search for a meaning in those eyes.
“It’s what you do. You think you know what’s best for everyone, and you don’t bloody tell anyone, and then you go and do something stupid like having your memory wiped and replaced. You’ve had that damn hero complex since you were eleven.”
“Eleven. You’ve known me that long?” Harry said in surprise.
“Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on what happens next.”
“I can’t decide what happens next if I don’t remember what happened before.”
“What else have you been dreaming about?”
“Mainly you,” Harry replied. “Although usually when I dream about a man I’m dating, the dreams are a lot more sexual.”
“Yes, well, we most definitely did not have that kind of relationship back in school.”
Harry’s eyes went wide again. “School?”
“Yes, we went to school together.”
“I’m not British.”
“Yes, you are. Your American accent is flawless.”
Harry rubbed his eyes again and caught himself yawning.
Draco smiled at him and ran his fingers over Harry’s cheek. Their lips touched.
“Sleep, love,” Draco whispered, “and if you wake up and none of this was ever real, well, then I guess it’s okay to tell you that I love you.”
Harry’s eyes went wide.
“Everyone loves you, of course, but to tear through my emotions like you have, well, my love is just a bit more powerful. So they can all bugger themselves.”
Harry laughed. He pulled Draco against him and their lips met again for only a moment. Harry shut his eyes and let himself feel the hate and the anger and then decided that even if it was real and even if all these weird dreams were his memories, it was in the past. He hated Draco in the past.
And in the present, this present, Harry did not hate Draco at all.
---/---
Harry woke up, not from dreams, not from fear. He just woke up. Eyes opening to the light of the room, stretching weary arms and legs. He rolled to his side, in Draco’s opulent bed, curled up in his soft, luxurious comforter, and he was halfway asleep again when Draco sauntered in, pale hair in his face, sleep pants barely hanging on his hips, bare-chested, carrying a tray.
“You drugged me,” Harry said.
Draco smirked. “You had to sleep.”
Harry smiled at him, and Draco smiled back and set the tray on the bed. Coffee.
“Okay, now I love you,” Harry said and reached for the coffee.
Draco chuckled. “I’m glad you didn't forget that.”
Harry shook his head. He took a sip of coffee and then pulled Draco next to him for a kiss. There was a bowl of fruit on the tray, and Harry picked it up and fed pieces of it to Draco between more kisses.
“What the--Potter, really,” Draco said as his lips were covered again with tangy fruit kisses.
Harry smiled. “Past. Present. Right now is right now.”
Draco smiled back. “True, but we have to deal with back then.”
“Later.”
“Okay.”
They finished the fruit, and Harry drank his coffee. After it was gone, Harry set the tray on the bedside table.
“How many times did we try to kill each other in school? I can remember three.”
“Only three, really? We were at each other’s throats every day.”
Harry hummed and dragged kisses down Draco’s throat.
Draco shivered and pushed him away. “You don’t remember everything.”
Harry shook his head.
“Ah, bloody hell. I’m not really the one that should be telling you all this.”
“Humor my insanity.”
Draco sat up. “Granger says that we should ease you into this. That you might freak out, but hey, you’re already a bit insane, so what the hell? Right?”
“Right.”
“Harry, you’re a wizard.”
Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it as the image of a burly, giant-of-a-man said the exact same thing in his brain. In his memories. In a dark, wet, cold hut … with his aunt and uncle. And … Dudley. With a pig's tail.
“Holy fuck,” Harry said.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
There were gaps between meeting the giant and walking the streets of a quaint, old-fashioned looking town. And then Draco. Young, blond, snobbish Draco. In a clothes shop?
“We-we were trying on costumes.”
“Robes, Potter, really. They’re for school. Our school uniforms.”
“School?”
“Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.”
“Holy fuck.”
“You already said that. Merlin, the Weasel and Granger are going to be so mad.”
Ron. Hermione. Red hair, bushy hair. A fucking troll? They fought off a troll when they were eleven?
“Holy fuck.”
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Potter.”
“Oh my god, I hated you. I hated you,” Harry said and squeezed Draco’s hand. “Why the hell were you such a god-awful, spoiled, poncy git?”
“I can ask the same of you when we were eleven years old.”
Harry smiled and pulled him close for a kiss. There was a loud crack in the other room, and Harry pushed him away, arms reaching for his jeans, but he didn’t have a gun with him, and that sounded like a gun shot and-
“Calm down,” Draco said and pulled away with a sigh.
“Malfoy!” a familiar voice shouted.
“That would be Ronald Weasley, one third of the damn perfect Golden Trio.”
“What? That was a loud noise.”
“It’s called Apparating. It’s how wizards travel from place to place. Think of it as teleporting.”
“Holy fuck.”
Draco laughed.
Weasley shouted for Malfoy again.
“Don’t tell him yet, please,” Harry said, “This is too much.”
“I won’t.” Draco kissed him swiftly one more time, and then left the room, shouting at the Weasel to shut up.
Harry lay on the bed, confused and in utter awe at the flood of memories pouring through his mind.
Ron was his best friend. They met on a train and ate chocolate frogs that bounced around. In their first year, they’d been through so much and faced so many challenges, all with Hermione by their side.
There were still some gaps, but Harry believed now. He knew it was all true. Everything that Draco said yanked forward another memory which fueled another and another. They fought for space in his brain with the dual images, dual memories for the same time. But put next to the memories of his real past, the fake ones paled in comparison in details and feelings.
And it wasn't fair that he was keeping it from the man who was his best friend and constant supporter. Well, not constant, but usually. Ron was there when he needed him the most.
He stood up and pain laced through his head. He shut his eyes, hissing until it passed and then moved as quickly as possible. When he bent for his jeans, there was more pain, stronger, and Harry staggered and fell to the bed. Lying down, the pain was bearable. Harry pulled his jeans on. Best friend and dorm-mates or not, he didn't really need Ron seeing him walking out of Draco’s bedroom in his boxers and t-shirt.
When he stood up again, the pain hit, but Harry shut his eyes and breathed through it. He opened his eyes and found his glasses on the bedside table. Images sharpened, and he went out of the room.
Draco and Ron were arguing. Probably about him.
Ron caught sight of him and shut up, and Draco turned around and smiled, and Harry winced at another volley of pain. Determined, he moved past Draco and stumbled. Ron caught him, and Harry hugged him tightly through the worst of the pain. He was so much taller than Harry. Taller than Draco.
Ron stood frozen for a moment, and then hugged him back. “Hey, Harry.”
“Hey, Ron.”
They held on to each other, until Draco said, voice dripping with his usual disdain, “Are you going to drag him to bed, Potter?”
Harry made a face and stepped away from him, and Ron’s face mirrored his own disgust, and then they both laughed and hugged again.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. “I can’t remember everything yet, but--”
“It’s okay, mate. We’re just glad we found you.”
Harry wasn't sure if he was glad they found him or not.
He finally stepped away from Ron, but only one step toward Draco and pain was lashing through his head.
He was used to pain in his head. Supposedly. According to his memories.
Draco’s arms were around him and he was asking something.
“I’m … okay,” Harry managed. “Just … pain. Like … really badly.”
“Not from your scar,” Draco prompted.
“No, just … everywhere.”
“Bed?”
“Couch is closer.”
“I’m going to go get Hermione.”
“Only if she is coming alone and she won’t go all coddle-crazy on him. He’s not an invalid.”
Ron rolled his eyes and smiled at Harry. There was another crack a moment later, and Harry winced. How had he gotten used to that sound?
Draco led him to the couch and sat next to him. He held his hand on Harry’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re all right, Harry?”
“Yeah. It’s just a massive headache. I’ve survived worse things. Apparently.”
“You fell off your broomstick more than once.”
“And regrew bones? How is all this possible?”
“Magic," Draco said and waved his hands in Harry's face.
"Prat," Harry said affectionately and buried his face in Draco’s neck.
Two loud cracks sounded through the room.
“Harry!”
Harry winced, but turned his head enough to see Hermione Granger rushing to him. Draco held out his hand to keep her off, but Harry rolled his eyes and sat up. Harry had enough timte to see that she was wearing loose jeans, a long sleeved shirt and her hair was curly and wild and messy in a ponytail.
Hermione fell to her knees, arms around his waist, head against his chest and just cried.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Gryffindors.”
“Shut it, Ferret,” Ron said.
And Harry laughed. “Oh my god, that day, oh hell. Bouncing white ferret, oh fuck.”
Ron laughed with him. Even Hermione laughed through her tears.
“That was one of the best days of school,” Harry said.
Draco poked him in the side, and he winced and lay back as pain twisted through his brain again.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked.
“My head hurts.”
“You’re probably fighting the memories. It’s understandable. The Obliviate curse you put on yourself is really strong.”
Harry winced and nodded. Another image of a run down shack filled his mind. But this one was different. It was overgrown with weeds and dirt, and the witch who lived there was older than anyone Harry had met. He could not remember her name. He remembered drinking something, and then nothing. New York, with a new life.
How did I do that?
“Do what?” Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head, not realizing that he’d said that out loud.
“Let’s get you back to London,” Hermione said. “We need-”
“Woah, wait,” Harry said. “London?”
“You are not dragging him back there,” Draco said. “Let him get used to the fact that he’s a wizard. I don’t even know if he’s remembered Voldemort yet.”
“Oh hell,” Harry said and shut his eyes. “Is that the freaky snake guy’s name? The one without a nose?”
There was silence, and then the three of them laughed.
“The Dark Lord himself.”
“This shit is crazy,” Harry said. “I’m going back to sleep.”
He tried to stand up and then swayed, and Draco held him by the hips to steady him. Hermione was still kneeling on the floor. Ron came over and helped her up. Harry hugged her tightly.
“I don’t remember everything,” Harry said, “but I guess part of me will always want to forget.”
“Why?” Hermione asked. “Why did you do it?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t remember. Part of me hopes I never do remember why,”
“What do you mean?” Ron asked.
Harry shrugged. “Just seems like a desperate, gutsy move, you know? Right up there with slitting your own wrists. Life must have sucked. And I just figured everyone would be better off without me. I don’t remember why.”
Hermione looked like she might cry again.
“Don’t tell anyone yet,” Draco said.
“Why not?” Hermione asked. “Molly is frantic.”
“Then she stays frantic. I do not want my apartment overrun with Weasels-”
“Draco,” Harry said.
Draco ignored him. “-and Harry still needs to remember. Okay? Just let him be for as long as he needs. Do you have his wand?”
Ron nodded and went to a bag by the door. He pulled out a slim case and handed it to Draco.
Wand? Magic wand? To cast spells?
Harry turned and looked at Draco. “Are you sure this isn't a horrible dream?”
“How can it be horrible when you've been letting me shag you?”
Harry laughed. “Okay, good point.”
“Harry,” Hermione said.
Harry met her eyes and then said, “You think I’m going to stop seeing Draco because I remember how much I hated him?”
“Well, yeah, mate,” Ron said. “It’s the Ferret. You two are--”
Harry smiled at Draco and hooked his arm around his neck. “Totally and completely in love.”
“Merlin. Do not make me sound like a teen-aged girl.”
Harry laughed and looked back at his best friends. “Give me a couple days, okay? This is freaky shit.”
“So eloquent,” Draco muttered.
Hermione nodded and Harry hugged them both.
“Do take care of yourself, Harry,” Hermione said. “We all really miss you.”
“I know.”
Harry waited until they had cracked themselves away. He turned to Draco. “Fill me in, please.”
“What do you mean?”
“I disappeared. I got that. Tell me why. Or tell me why everyone decided it was a good idea to find me.”
Draco sighed and motioned to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Okay.” Draco led him to the bar stool, and then pattered around in the kitchen. He opened a cupboard and pulled out some bread and, while he prepared toast with cream cheese and fruit, he talked.
“You had been acting strange for about six months. Nothing, too out of the ordinary. Merlin knows I didn’t notice a difference in how you treated me, but Weasley and Granger were hell bent on trying to figure out what was wrong with you. Do you remember the war?”
“Vaguely. The snake guy, right?”
“Yeah. Well, after the good side won, there were fun things like parties and celebrations, but there were also horrible things like trials and funerals and more people trying to kill you. You didn't mind the death threats, it was everyone else that irritated you. People wouldn't leave you alone because you were the Boy Who Wouldn't Just Bloody Die. I figure it got to you a bit.”
“I did die, you know.”
“Yeah. Everyone knows that. You died so we would all be saved. Well done.”
Irritation flared in Harry, and he shrugged it away. Draco had always been a daft prick. “And then?”
“You disappeared about two years after the war. No one knew where or why or how.”
“Dare I ask how many years it’s been?”
“It’s been six years since you disappeared.”
“So I’m what? Twenty-six?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you find me?”
“There was a huge investigation. Every Auror in every country was looking for you. Looking for clues. But after a year, and no one could find you and there were no leads, they had no choice but to close your case. But Hermione is like a goblin on a treasure hunt. She would not let it go. Ron tried to reason with her, but what else could he do but support her? Hermione worked on tracing spells for three years before they finally found your wand in some old hut, along with the body of a really old witch. Your wand was examined for the last spells cast and besides an Obliviate curse that no one had used in five hundred years, there were locking charms and confusion charms and so many wards that even Charlie Weasley wasn't able to work out how they were all meshed together.”
Draco placed the toast and a glass of orange juice in front of him. He sat on the bar stool next to Harry’s and leaned against the bar. “After another year, the case was closed again. You obviously wanted to disappear. And you’re such a powerful wizard that no one ever expected to find you. But Granger wouldn't let it go. It was just another puzzle that needed to be solved. It took a long time for Hermione to find the little chest that had all your American documents in it. And then it was up to us to find you and since Father had an office here, I volunteered to start the search just to get out of England for a little while.”
“How long until you saw me at the bar?”
“Three weeks. It was a bit of a surprise. I’d been doing my research and I knew you were a cop, but I wasn’t actively looking for you. I’m sure Weasley and Granger would have found you and dragged you away within the first day, but it was nice to be away from the slander and the people that still constantly remind me of my father’s mistakes.”
“And your own.”
Draco looked down at the counter, eyes hard. “Yeah, and my own. Anyway. For a moment, I thought you recognized me and then you didn't, and well, I decided to play along.”
“For your own amusement and benefit.”
“Of course. You're gorgeous. I wasn't going to pass up the chance.”
Harry smiled and drank the juice. He almost spit it out when he remembered Barnes’ mutterings about demons and magic and floating furniture after he’d turned himself in.
“You … Barnes, he confessed.”
Draco smirked, and then he smiled softly and ran his hand down Harry’s cheek. “It was killing you. Everything was. And I figured without Barnes and the stress of that case, the dreams would stop, and you could keep being Harry Potter, New York City cop. Or if they continued, then you wouldn't have to deal with so much at once. Muggles are weak-minded. It was easy to get him to cooperate.”
“Oh my god.”
Draco held his hands out. “What, no thank you?”
“You bloody bastard.”
Draco tilted his head and said, “You almost sounded British when you said that.”
“I can’t believe you interfered with my case like that. Fuck, Draco.”
“Bad guy is in jail. Isn’t that the goal?”
“Yes, and thank you, but still!”
Draco laughed. He came around the counter, and Harry turned and pulled him between his legs. It was easy to kiss him.
“So, can I expect your memories of us to make this the last time I kiss you?” Draco asked.
“No. It’s pretty cool knowing that without our past, that if we had met up in a bar, that things between us would have worked out. They can work out. You want them to?”
“People aren’t going to like it and they’re going to think I cursed you or gave you a love potion or something.”
“What are you always saying? The mindless masses are idiots?”
“Imbeciles, but idiot works too.”
Harry laughed and kissed him again. “Thank you. For your help and for … I don’t even know. This is the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in.”
“Doubtful. Didn’t you date Cho Chang?”
Harry remembered an awkward date in an chintzy tea shop and a pretty girl crying. “Okay, so this is the second weirdest situation I’ve ever been in.” Harry yawned. “Back to bed.”
“Best idea you have ever had, Potter.”
Harry smiled and stood up. The pain in his head had lessened, but he said nothing and leaned on Draco anyway, even though he could have made it on his own. And this time, he didn't pause in slipping off all his clothes to sleep. Draco slid into bed next to him and raised his hand and everything darkened considerably.
“ I've caught myself almost doing that in front of you so many times.”
Harry smiled and pulled Draco close. He didn't say anything, but thought about magic. Forgotten words and hand movements trailed through his memories and he thought about the wand, his wand that was sitting dormant in its case on Draco’s coffee table.
Slashing hex used on Draco
Harry rolled Draco over and ignored the question in his eyes.He straddled Draco’s lap and ran his hands over his chest, fingers lingering on each scar. “Are you sure that I apologized to you for this?”
“Yes. Maybe not with words, but you did save me. More than once. During the last battle and since then. You spoke at my trial and kept my mother and me out of prison. You let me onto the board that controls the trust fund for the orphans of the war to help improve my image. And you consistently say good things about me to the press even if I don’t deserve them.”
“You deserve them.”
“Say that when you remember everything I've ever done to you.”
Harry smiled and leaned down for a kiss. Against Draco’s lips he said, “ You've given me the best sex I've ever had in my life. But I can’t quite remember how good it is. Remind me?”
Draco’s eyes flashed with lust and just as quickly, Harry found himself pinned to the bed with an eager, completely naked Draco on top of him.
“Yep, banish. Best spell ever,” Harry said.
Draco shook his head. “Second best spell ever,” he said. He grabbed Harry’s knees, hooked them on his elbows, and then pressed two fingers against his dry entrance. Harry’s protest was swallowed as everything tingled and his muscles loosened, and he was full of something slippery and then full of Draco’s cock.
“Are you always right?” Harry asked when he could breathe again.
“Yes. Now shut up and let me love you.”
Harry shut up.
Part 7: A Mess of Confrontations
Part 5: A Soul of Confusion
Part 4: A Plethora of Emotions
Part 3: A Night of Questions
Part 2: A Reoccurence of Dreams
Part 1: A Meeting of Equals
.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These definitely aren't mine. Characters and the plots of the Harry Potter series are property of JK Rowling.
Summary: Harry Potter is an average New York City cop. A not-so-average blond man and a frustrating case have Harry questioning everything. This fic is not AU, even if the summary makes it sound like it. It falls under the Harry Potter fanfic classification of EWE (epilogue, what epilogue?)
A/N: I have no idea how long ago I started writing it. But well, now it's finished, so ... enjoy.
A/N: Extra special double update for devilaugh before she goes to China
Part 6:
“I did it, oh god, I did it, please don’t peel my skin off my body.”
Harry’s head snapped up at the cry as did every other officer’s in the station. Sorensen went toward the man that Harry immediately recognized as Barnes. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt that was ripped in places. His smirk was gone, and his eyes were wild with alarm.
“Potter. Detective Potter, where is he?”
Harry stood up and Barnes lurched toward him, arms out, but he didn’t make it far before two officers had him subdued on the ground. Barnes kept muttering, “I did it, I did it, please, I did it.”
The officer led him into an interrogation room, and Harry watched.
His eyes found Kat’s. She was just as surprised as he was.
“Why don’t all the bad guys do this?” Kat said.
Harry and a few others laughed. Harry quickly gathered his notes.
“Sorenson, go ask him some questions. Where is Randall?” Harry asked.
“Out at lunch.”
“Good. Fuck him.”
“Potter,” Kat said.
Harry gave her a loopy smile, and then went to the viewing room to see Barnes questioned.
Harry’s world went insane. Bella’s body was found right where Barnes said it would be, and there was enough evidence in and around the area to convict Barnes and the ex-boyfriend Mutton of the crime. His testimony didn’t make sense at first, but when he realized that no one was willing to make a deal, he accepted his fate, confessed, and he was arrested and thrown in jail, and after two weeks of this sort of insanity, Harry had a chance to relax.
Or he tried.
Draco Malfoy and the golden ball plagued his mind. He stored the ball in a drawer, out of sight, but it kept popping up in his even more detailed dreams. Broomsticks and balls flying everywhere, walls of a castle bathed in gold and red banners. Lions and snakes. And always Draco. Across a crowded cafeteria that looked nothing like the cafeteria in Harry’s memories. Across a classroom. A smirk. Through an old village.
Harry wondered if there was such a thing as voodoo.
When he started dreaming about Draco naked and Draco actually smiling at him, it was too much. Something was going on. He knew it, but how would he prove something that was all in his head?
After waking up near tears again, Harry decided he wanted answers. He dressed enough to be decent and hailed a cab. He went to Malfoy Enterprises and Davis, the doorman, buzzed him in. It’d been almost three weeks since he had last seen Draco.
“Good almost morning, Mister Potter. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Sorry, Davis. I should have called. Is Malfoy here?”
“Yes, Mister Malfoy is here. Do you want me to buzz him and-“
“No, I’ll just go up.”
“Okay, Mister Potter.”
Harry hit the elevator and wondered if there wasn’t a faster way to get from place to place. There had to be soon. One day, someone would learn how to teleport. The elevator door opened and Harry spent another long ride up to the tenth floor. They needed a faster elevator.
Harry stepped out of the elevator, and he was surprised to see lights on. A familiar feeling of water trickling over his shoulders made him pause in the front hall, and he stood there for a moment before the feeling stopped.
“Harry.”
“Why do I feel like two different people and why do I think you have something to do with it?”
Draco stared at him, and then smirked and gestured to his left. He walked in front, and Harry followed him into the elaborate apartment.
“Sounds like you need to talk to a psychiatrist. I thought capturing Barnes would get you back to making sense.”
Harry sat hard on the bar stool and put his face in his hands. “So did I, but …”
“But …” Draco prompted and poured Harry a tumbler full of amber whiskey.
Harry grunted his thanks and sipped at it, choking when it burned down his throat. “What the hell is this shit?”
Draco smirked again. “From Britain. Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey. It has a bit of a kick to it.”
"No kidding." Harry raised the glass in a toast and downed the rest of it. Draco poured him another and against his better judgment he drank that one too.
“So,” Draco said, “you were blaming your psychosis on me?”
Harry took a very deep breath. “It feels normal to blame you for everything, so yeah. I don’t know why it feels normal to do that, but it does, so therefore, this is all your fault.”
Draco laughed. “So you haven’t come to beg for my affections?”
Harry snorted. “No. I still--I don’t know. I can’t explain how frustrating this is. I can’t stand people like you, Malfoy, but you’re different than … than what? Than before? I haven’t known you for long enough to know that you’re different than you were before, but when was that before?”
“ You've gone completely bonkers. Off your rocker.”
“Have I?”
“Well, not completely. Let me shag you one more time before they admit you into the psychiatric ward of Saint Mungo’s.”
“Saint Mungo’s?”
“It’s a hospital in London. Fancy a shag, Potter?”
Harry sighed. “Yeah, no thanks.”
“Too bad. You staying over?”
Harry looked up from the glass and met Draco’s eyes. He stared back, unflinching. It was an invitation. That was all. Nothing nefarious or sly in his gaze.
When had he gotten so suspicious of everything that concerned Draco? Again, it felt like it had always been this way.
“I didn't mean to wake you up,” Harry said.
“I wasn't asleep. I do business in London, remember? Someone called me an hour ago and I’ve been on the phone since then.”
“Oh.”
Draco put the dirtied glasses in the sink, and then walked around the bar. Harry turned to keep him in sight, and then stiffened when Draco moved between his legs. It was similar to his first night here, and so many nights after that, but the feeling was definitely different.
Draco rubbed his hands on Harry’s thighs, nails catching on the tattered edges of denim. “No tricks, no perverseness. I will control myself.”
“I’ll sleep on your couch.”
Draco pouted and said, “That is unacceptable.”
“So is this,” Harry said and grabbed Draco’s wrists.
Draco flipped his hands so he was holding Harry’s wrists, and then started walking backwards. Harry could easily free himself, despite how strong Draco’s grip was, but he let himself be led into the bedroom.
“When was the last time you had a good, good sleep?”
“The last time you fucked me.”
“You’re welcome, but that was almost a month ago.”
“I know.”
“Sit.”
Harry sighed and obeyed. He didn't object when Draco pulled off his shoes and socks, or when his hands slid up his legs to take off his jeans. His cock was half hard, growing in his boxers, but Draco ignored it. He lifted his hand, paused for a moment, and then got up to douse the lights.
Harry shifted up on the bed, pulling the blanket over him. He was tense until Draco lay next to him, arm around his stomach, face at his neck, breathing softly.
“Sleep, Harry. You need to sleep.”
“I need to forget.”
“You’ve already forgotten.”
---/---
Black cloaked figures surround him. Others are fighting, shouts and cries echoing in his ears. Bodies lay strewn on the grounds of what he considers his home. They will all pay, even if he has to die for it. Even if he has to sacrifice himself, so that the rest can fight and win. He is evil. Neither can live while the other survives. He sees mouths move. Feels his own move in response, and then everything is green and his body falls to the ground.
---/---
Harry woke up whimpering, body twisting and uncontrollable. He’d been dead. Completely and utterly dead. Wasn’t there a rule that if you died in a dream you died in real life?
Soft hands rubbed his forehead and arms. He focused on the pale face above him.
“Are you awake now?” Draco asked.
“Why aren’t I dead, Draco?”
Draco smiled. “Well, it isn’t because of a lack of trying, believe me.”
Harry shut his eyes and gripped Draco’s arms. “I don’t want to sleep anymore. I don’t want to dream. I don’t want to remember. Please. Don’t make me remember.”
“Why?”
“It hurts. God, Draco, it hurts so much.”
“What hurts?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Isn’t that good? That you don’t remember what hurts?”
“But I will. I don’t want to remember.”
Draco’s face was conflicted. “I don’t want you to remember either, but it’s too late anyway.”
“What’s too late?”
Draco ran his hand over Harry’s cheek. “You already remember that you hate me. Nothing else really matters to me. You could have died. You could have been gone forever. I didn't care about you at all when you disappeared.”
“Stop, please. Please. Stop talking.”
“Okay.” After a moment, Draco said, “I made you a cup of tea when you first started thrashing about and making it impossible for me to sleep.”
Harry turned to the nightstand. He rubbed his palms against his eyes and sat up against the headboard. He picked up the warm cup. He shut his eyes and sipped at the tea while dream after dream plagued his mind like they were memories. Everything was so real.
“It all feels so real,” Harry muttered.
“Dreams can be like that.”
Harry met his eyes. “Dreams or memories?”
Draco ran his hand on Harry’s arm, for comfort and Harry leaned against the headboard and put the tea down. Harry pulled Draco against his body, and Draco easily fell into his side, head tucked under Harry’s chin. Harry shut his eyes and squeezed too tightly.
It all seemed so real. Was this just part of his dream? What was reality? What about the man in his arms? What were they? Who had they been? Who were they now?
Why was Harry even considering that this was real?
Real or not, Harry had to ask.
“Did I do that to you?” he whispered, fingers sliding to Draco’s side, over his shirt. One of the deep lacerations had gone around his ribs, and Harry found the edge of the deep scar with his fingertips.
Draco stiffened, and then propped up on a hand. He looked at Harry and shook his head.
“Tell me," Harry pleaded.
“I thought you wanted to forget.”
“I’m sorry, if I did, please, I--” Harry shut his eyes again, fighting off the imagery in his head. A thin, unhealthy Draco, already so abused, so used. And Harry. Anger coiling through him.
But there wasn’t a blade in his hand. Just a piece of wood, and then Draco was bleeding on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, unaware of the tears on his cheeks until Draco was wiping them away.
“It’s okay. You already apologized. More than once. Gryffindor pride and honor and all that.”
Harry didn't know what that meant.
“You didn't know what the spell would do. You were in the right that day. As usual.”
Harry snorted and turned his face away to wipe his cheeks. “I doubt that.”
“More than I was, anyway.”
Harry took a deep breath. “Granted that all of this is real, and that I … we … why can’t you let me forget?”
“I told you, Harry, I wanted to. You left. You left everyone. I didn’t care. No one expected me to care. But Weasley and Granger-”
His ever helpful dream-memory supplied an image of two people. One was Ronald Weasley and the other with bushy hair. Her name was Hermione?
“-are stubborn. You’re the Golden Trio, except they’re missing their third. I told them to leave it alone, that you disappeared for a reason and obviously didn’t want to be found, but Granger is as determined as you are when you’re chasing down the Snitch.”
“The what?”
Draco smiled and shook his head. “Never mind.”
“No, wait, that … that ball, you gave me.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Why do I have dreams of flying? Why do I have dreams of us flying? And fire?”
Draco’s face shut down. It was instantaneous. His eyes hardened, and his lips went into thin lines.
This time, it was Harry reaching for Draco, lightly touching his face.
Draco flinched and then shook his head. He inhaled deeply. “Now that is one day that I would not mind forgetting. It was … stupid. And I was wrong, and-”
Harry pulled Draco to his lips and kissed him quiet.
Draco made a single noise of protest, and then kissed him back.
“Don’t,” Harry whispered against his lips. “Not if remembering causes you pain.”
“So you bear it alone? How very typical of Harry Potter.”
Harry pulled far enough away to search for a meaning in those eyes.
“It’s what you do. You think you know what’s best for everyone, and you don’t bloody tell anyone, and then you go and do something stupid like having your memory wiped and replaced. You’ve had that damn hero complex since you were eleven.”
“Eleven. You’ve known me that long?” Harry said in surprise.
“Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on what happens next.”
“I can’t decide what happens next if I don’t remember what happened before.”
“What else have you been dreaming about?”
“Mainly you,” Harry replied. “Although usually when I dream about a man I’m dating, the dreams are a lot more sexual.”
“Yes, well, we most definitely did not have that kind of relationship back in school.”
Harry’s eyes went wide again. “School?”
“Yes, we went to school together.”
“I’m not British.”
“Yes, you are. Your American accent is flawless.”
Harry rubbed his eyes again and caught himself yawning.
Draco smiled at him and ran his fingers over Harry’s cheek. Their lips touched.
“Sleep, love,” Draco whispered, “and if you wake up and none of this was ever real, well, then I guess it’s okay to tell you that I love you.”
Harry’s eyes went wide.
“Everyone loves you, of course, but to tear through my emotions like you have, well, my love is just a bit more powerful. So they can all bugger themselves.”
Harry laughed. He pulled Draco against him and their lips met again for only a moment. Harry shut his eyes and let himself feel the hate and the anger and then decided that even if it was real and even if all these weird dreams were his memories, it was in the past. He hated Draco in the past.
And in the present, this present, Harry did not hate Draco at all.
---/---
Harry woke up, not from dreams, not from fear. He just woke up. Eyes opening to the light of the room, stretching weary arms and legs. He rolled to his side, in Draco’s opulent bed, curled up in his soft, luxurious comforter, and he was halfway asleep again when Draco sauntered in, pale hair in his face, sleep pants barely hanging on his hips, bare-chested, carrying a tray.
“You drugged me,” Harry said.
Draco smirked. “You had to sleep.”
Harry smiled at him, and Draco smiled back and set the tray on the bed. Coffee.
“Okay, now I love you,” Harry said and reached for the coffee.
Draco chuckled. “I’m glad you didn't forget that.”
Harry shook his head. He took a sip of coffee and then pulled Draco next to him for a kiss. There was a bowl of fruit on the tray, and Harry picked it up and fed pieces of it to Draco between more kisses.
“What the--Potter, really,” Draco said as his lips were covered again with tangy fruit kisses.
Harry smiled. “Past. Present. Right now is right now.”
Draco smiled back. “True, but we have to deal with back then.”
“Later.”
“Okay.”
They finished the fruit, and Harry drank his coffee. After it was gone, Harry set the tray on the bedside table.
“How many times did we try to kill each other in school? I can remember three.”
“Only three, really? We were at each other’s throats every day.”
Harry hummed and dragged kisses down Draco’s throat.
Draco shivered and pushed him away. “You don’t remember everything.”
Harry shook his head.
“Ah, bloody hell. I’m not really the one that should be telling you all this.”
“Humor my insanity.”
Draco sat up. “Granger says that we should ease you into this. That you might freak out, but hey, you’re already a bit insane, so what the hell? Right?”
“Right.”
“Harry, you’re a wizard.”
Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it as the image of a burly, giant-of-a-man said the exact same thing in his brain. In his memories. In a dark, wet, cold hut … with his aunt and uncle. And … Dudley. With a pig's tail.
“Holy fuck,” Harry said.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
There were gaps between meeting the giant and walking the streets of a quaint, old-fashioned looking town. And then Draco. Young, blond, snobbish Draco. In a clothes shop?
“We-we were trying on costumes.”
“Robes, Potter, really. They’re for school. Our school uniforms.”
“School?”
“Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.”
“Holy fuck.”
“You already said that. Merlin, the Weasel and Granger are going to be so mad.”
Ron. Hermione. Red hair, bushy hair. A fucking troll? They fought off a troll when they were eleven?
“Holy fuck.”
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Potter.”
“Oh my god, I hated you. I hated you,” Harry said and squeezed Draco’s hand. “Why the hell were you such a god-awful, spoiled, poncy git?”
“I can ask the same of you when we were eleven years old.”
Harry smiled and pulled him close for a kiss. There was a loud crack in the other room, and Harry pushed him away, arms reaching for his jeans, but he didn’t have a gun with him, and that sounded like a gun shot and-
“Calm down,” Draco said and pulled away with a sigh.
“Malfoy!” a familiar voice shouted.
“That would be Ronald Weasley, one third of the damn perfect Golden Trio.”
“What? That was a loud noise.”
“It’s called Apparating. It’s how wizards travel from place to place. Think of it as teleporting.”
“Holy fuck.”
Draco laughed.
Weasley shouted for Malfoy again.
“Don’t tell him yet, please,” Harry said, “This is too much.”
“I won’t.” Draco kissed him swiftly one more time, and then left the room, shouting at the Weasel to shut up.
Harry lay on the bed, confused and in utter awe at the flood of memories pouring through his mind.
Ron was his best friend. They met on a train and ate chocolate frogs that bounced around. In their first year, they’d been through so much and faced so many challenges, all with Hermione by their side.
There were still some gaps, but Harry believed now. He knew it was all true. Everything that Draco said yanked forward another memory which fueled another and another. They fought for space in his brain with the dual images, dual memories for the same time. But put next to the memories of his real past, the fake ones paled in comparison in details and feelings.
And it wasn't fair that he was keeping it from the man who was his best friend and constant supporter. Well, not constant, but usually. Ron was there when he needed him the most.
He stood up and pain laced through his head. He shut his eyes, hissing until it passed and then moved as quickly as possible. When he bent for his jeans, there was more pain, stronger, and Harry staggered and fell to the bed. Lying down, the pain was bearable. Harry pulled his jeans on. Best friend and dorm-mates or not, he didn't really need Ron seeing him walking out of Draco’s bedroom in his boxers and t-shirt.
When he stood up again, the pain hit, but Harry shut his eyes and breathed through it. He opened his eyes and found his glasses on the bedside table. Images sharpened, and he went out of the room.
Draco and Ron were arguing. Probably about him.
Ron caught sight of him and shut up, and Draco turned around and smiled, and Harry winced at another volley of pain. Determined, he moved past Draco and stumbled. Ron caught him, and Harry hugged him tightly through the worst of the pain. He was so much taller than Harry. Taller than Draco.
Ron stood frozen for a moment, and then hugged him back. “Hey, Harry.”
“Hey, Ron.”
They held on to each other, until Draco said, voice dripping with his usual disdain, “Are you going to drag him to bed, Potter?”
Harry made a face and stepped away from him, and Ron’s face mirrored his own disgust, and then they both laughed and hugged again.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. “I can’t remember everything yet, but--”
“It’s okay, mate. We’re just glad we found you.”
Harry wasn't sure if he was glad they found him or not.
He finally stepped away from Ron, but only one step toward Draco and pain was lashing through his head.
He was used to pain in his head. Supposedly. According to his memories.
Draco’s arms were around him and he was asking something.
“I’m … okay,” Harry managed. “Just … pain. Like … really badly.”
“Not from your scar,” Draco prompted.
“No, just … everywhere.”
“Bed?”
“Couch is closer.”
“I’m going to go get Hermione.”
“Only if she is coming alone and she won’t go all coddle-crazy on him. He’s not an invalid.”
Ron rolled his eyes and smiled at Harry. There was another crack a moment later, and Harry winced. How had he gotten used to that sound?
Draco led him to the couch and sat next to him. He held his hand on Harry’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re all right, Harry?”
“Yeah. It’s just a massive headache. I’ve survived worse things. Apparently.”
“You fell off your broomstick more than once.”
“And regrew bones? How is all this possible?”
“Magic," Draco said and waved his hands in Harry's face.
"Prat," Harry said affectionately and buried his face in Draco’s neck.
Two loud cracks sounded through the room.
“Harry!”
Harry winced, but turned his head enough to see Hermione Granger rushing to him. Draco held out his hand to keep her off, but Harry rolled his eyes and sat up. Harry had enough timte to see that she was wearing loose jeans, a long sleeved shirt and her hair was curly and wild and messy in a ponytail.
Hermione fell to her knees, arms around his waist, head against his chest and just cried.
Draco rolled his eyes. “Gryffindors.”
“Shut it, Ferret,” Ron said.
And Harry laughed. “Oh my god, that day, oh hell. Bouncing white ferret, oh fuck.”
Ron laughed with him. Even Hermione laughed through her tears.
“That was one of the best days of school,” Harry said.
Draco poked him in the side, and he winced and lay back as pain twisted through his brain again.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked.
“My head hurts.”
“You’re probably fighting the memories. It’s understandable. The Obliviate curse you put on yourself is really strong.”
Harry winced and nodded. Another image of a run down shack filled his mind. But this one was different. It was overgrown with weeds and dirt, and the witch who lived there was older than anyone Harry had met. He could not remember her name. He remembered drinking something, and then nothing. New York, with a new life.
How did I do that?
“Do what?” Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head, not realizing that he’d said that out loud.
“Let’s get you back to London,” Hermione said. “We need-”
“Woah, wait,” Harry said. “London?”
“You are not dragging him back there,” Draco said. “Let him get used to the fact that he’s a wizard. I don’t even know if he’s remembered Voldemort yet.”
“Oh hell,” Harry said and shut his eyes. “Is that the freaky snake guy’s name? The one without a nose?”
There was silence, and then the three of them laughed.
“The Dark Lord himself.”
“This shit is crazy,” Harry said. “I’m going back to sleep.”
He tried to stand up and then swayed, and Draco held him by the hips to steady him. Hermione was still kneeling on the floor. Ron came over and helped her up. Harry hugged her tightly.
“I don’t remember everything,” Harry said, “but I guess part of me will always want to forget.”
“Why?” Hermione asked. “Why did you do it?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t remember. Part of me hopes I never do remember why,”
“What do you mean?” Ron asked.
Harry shrugged. “Just seems like a desperate, gutsy move, you know? Right up there with slitting your own wrists. Life must have sucked. And I just figured everyone would be better off without me. I don’t remember why.”
Hermione looked like she might cry again.
“Don’t tell anyone yet,” Draco said.
“Why not?” Hermione asked. “Molly is frantic.”
“Then she stays frantic. I do not want my apartment overrun with Weasels-”
“Draco,” Harry said.
Draco ignored him. “-and Harry still needs to remember. Okay? Just let him be for as long as he needs. Do you have his wand?”
Ron nodded and went to a bag by the door. He pulled out a slim case and handed it to Draco.
Wand? Magic wand? To cast spells?
Harry turned and looked at Draco. “Are you sure this isn't a horrible dream?”
“How can it be horrible when you've been letting me shag you?”
Harry laughed. “Okay, good point.”
“Harry,” Hermione said.
Harry met her eyes and then said, “You think I’m going to stop seeing Draco because I remember how much I hated him?”
“Well, yeah, mate,” Ron said. “It’s the Ferret. You two are--”
Harry smiled at Draco and hooked his arm around his neck. “Totally and completely in love.”
“Merlin. Do not make me sound like a teen-aged girl.”
Harry laughed and looked back at his best friends. “Give me a couple days, okay? This is freaky shit.”
“So eloquent,” Draco muttered.
Hermione nodded and Harry hugged them both.
“Do take care of yourself, Harry,” Hermione said. “We all really miss you.”
“I know.”
Harry waited until they had cracked themselves away. He turned to Draco. “Fill me in, please.”
“What do you mean?”
“I disappeared. I got that. Tell me why. Or tell me why everyone decided it was a good idea to find me.”
Draco sighed and motioned to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Okay.” Draco led him to the bar stool, and then pattered around in the kitchen. He opened a cupboard and pulled out some bread and, while he prepared toast with cream cheese and fruit, he talked.
“You had been acting strange for about six months. Nothing, too out of the ordinary. Merlin knows I didn’t notice a difference in how you treated me, but Weasley and Granger were hell bent on trying to figure out what was wrong with you. Do you remember the war?”
“Vaguely. The snake guy, right?”
“Yeah. Well, after the good side won, there were fun things like parties and celebrations, but there were also horrible things like trials and funerals and more people trying to kill you. You didn't mind the death threats, it was everyone else that irritated you. People wouldn't leave you alone because you were the Boy Who Wouldn't Just Bloody Die. I figure it got to you a bit.”
“I did die, you know.”
“Yeah. Everyone knows that. You died so we would all be saved. Well done.”
Irritation flared in Harry, and he shrugged it away. Draco had always been a daft prick. “And then?”
“You disappeared about two years after the war. No one knew where or why or how.”
“Dare I ask how many years it’s been?”
“It’s been six years since you disappeared.”
“So I’m what? Twenty-six?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you find me?”
“There was a huge investigation. Every Auror in every country was looking for you. Looking for clues. But after a year, and no one could find you and there were no leads, they had no choice but to close your case. But Hermione is like a goblin on a treasure hunt. She would not let it go. Ron tried to reason with her, but what else could he do but support her? Hermione worked on tracing spells for three years before they finally found your wand in some old hut, along with the body of a really old witch. Your wand was examined for the last spells cast and besides an Obliviate curse that no one had used in five hundred years, there were locking charms and confusion charms and so many wards that even Charlie Weasley wasn't able to work out how they were all meshed together.”
Draco placed the toast and a glass of orange juice in front of him. He sat on the bar stool next to Harry’s and leaned against the bar. “After another year, the case was closed again. You obviously wanted to disappear. And you’re such a powerful wizard that no one ever expected to find you. But Granger wouldn't let it go. It was just another puzzle that needed to be solved. It took a long time for Hermione to find the little chest that had all your American documents in it. And then it was up to us to find you and since Father had an office here, I volunteered to start the search just to get out of England for a little while.”
“How long until you saw me at the bar?”
“Three weeks. It was a bit of a surprise. I’d been doing my research and I knew you were a cop, but I wasn’t actively looking for you. I’m sure Weasley and Granger would have found you and dragged you away within the first day, but it was nice to be away from the slander and the people that still constantly remind me of my father’s mistakes.”
“And your own.”
Draco looked down at the counter, eyes hard. “Yeah, and my own. Anyway. For a moment, I thought you recognized me and then you didn't, and well, I decided to play along.”
“For your own amusement and benefit.”
“Of course. You're gorgeous. I wasn't going to pass up the chance.”
Harry smiled and drank the juice. He almost spit it out when he remembered Barnes’ mutterings about demons and magic and floating furniture after he’d turned himself in.
“You … Barnes, he confessed.”
Draco smirked, and then he smiled softly and ran his hand down Harry’s cheek. “It was killing you. Everything was. And I figured without Barnes and the stress of that case, the dreams would stop, and you could keep being Harry Potter, New York City cop. Or if they continued, then you wouldn't have to deal with so much at once. Muggles are weak-minded. It was easy to get him to cooperate.”
“Oh my god.”
Draco held his hands out. “What, no thank you?”
“You bloody bastard.”
Draco tilted his head and said, “You almost sounded British when you said that.”
“I can’t believe you interfered with my case like that. Fuck, Draco.”
“Bad guy is in jail. Isn’t that the goal?”
“Yes, and thank you, but still!”
Draco laughed. He came around the counter, and Harry turned and pulled him between his legs. It was easy to kiss him.
“So, can I expect your memories of us to make this the last time I kiss you?” Draco asked.
“No. It’s pretty cool knowing that without our past, that if we had met up in a bar, that things between us would have worked out. They can work out. You want them to?”
“People aren’t going to like it and they’re going to think I cursed you or gave you a love potion or something.”
“What are you always saying? The mindless masses are idiots?”
“Imbeciles, but idiot works too.”
Harry laughed and kissed him again. “Thank you. For your help and for … I don’t even know. This is the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in.”
“Doubtful. Didn’t you date Cho Chang?”
Harry remembered an awkward date in an chintzy tea shop and a pretty girl crying. “Okay, so this is the second weirdest situation I’ve ever been in.” Harry yawned. “Back to bed.”
“Best idea you have ever had, Potter.”
Harry smiled and stood up. The pain in his head had lessened, but he said nothing and leaned on Draco anyway, even though he could have made it on his own. And this time, he didn't pause in slipping off all his clothes to sleep. Draco slid into bed next to him and raised his hand and everything darkened considerably.
“ I've caught myself almost doing that in front of you so many times.”
Harry smiled and pulled Draco close. He didn't say anything, but thought about magic. Forgotten words and hand movements trailed through his memories and he thought about the wand, his wand that was sitting dormant in its case on Draco’s coffee table.
Slashing hex used on Draco
Harry rolled Draco over and ignored the question in his eyes.He straddled Draco’s lap and ran his hands over his chest, fingers lingering on each scar. “Are you sure that I apologized to you for this?”
“Yes. Maybe not with words, but you did save me. More than once. During the last battle and since then. You spoke at my trial and kept my mother and me out of prison. You let me onto the board that controls the trust fund for the orphans of the war to help improve my image. And you consistently say good things about me to the press even if I don’t deserve them.”
“You deserve them.”
“Say that when you remember everything I've ever done to you.”
Harry smiled and leaned down for a kiss. Against Draco’s lips he said, “ You've given me the best sex I've ever had in my life. But I can’t quite remember how good it is. Remind me?”
Draco’s eyes flashed with lust and just as quickly, Harry found himself pinned to the bed with an eager, completely naked Draco on top of him.
“Yep, banish. Best spell ever,” Harry said.
Draco shook his head. “Second best spell ever,” he said. He grabbed Harry’s knees, hooked them on his elbows, and then pressed two fingers against his dry entrance. Harry’s protest was swallowed as everything tingled and his muscles loosened, and he was full of something slippery and then full of Draco’s cock.
“Are you always right?” Harry asked when he could breathe again.
“Yes. Now shut up and let me love you.”
Harry shut up.
Part 7: A Mess of Confrontations
Part 5: A Soul of Confusion
Part 4: A Plethora of Emotions
Part 3: A Night of Questions
Part 2: A Reoccurence of Dreams
Part 1: A Meeting of Equals
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