Fic: Misplaced Memories 1/10
Author: dacro
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rated: NC-17 (eventually)
Chapter 1/10 (complete)
Words: 40,000+ (this chapter 4,200)
Summary: Harry is hit by an unknown curse and loses eighteen years of his memories. When he wakes up, he doesn't remember magic, Hogwarts or that he's happily married to a former Death Eater. Draco struggles to adapt to the changes and tries to help Harry retrieve his memories without causing further damage.
Warnings: (overall): swearing, attempted kidnapping, stages of grieving, D/s (if you squint) and sex in a public place (woo!)
Disclaimer: I do not make money from anything I write. It’s a shame, but it’s true. Harry and his world belong to JKR and WB.
Notes: First and foremost, I don’t think any of this would have been possible without saladbats and her limitless heart. She’s been my beta, friend, biggest fan and cheerleader in days of feast and in times of drought. Thank you for being on this journey with me! Thanks also to lusiology for the britpicking and lots of encouragement.
One last thank-you to my lubricus family. You keep slash alive and pulsing.
Misplaced Memories
"Harry, on your right!"
The hex cut through fabric and flesh before he could avoid the hit. He spun with the impact and found cover behind an oak. Harry gave a nod across the field to Butler for the warning and took a second to assess his burning side.
Butler called out again. "You hit?"
A quick poke through the tear of his outer robe and shirt revealed very little damage to his skin. Still, it stung like the wrong end of a Skrewt and was beginning to swell. He looked up at Butler who was directing a spiralling cloud of debris toward the two assassins hiding out behind their own trees. "Nothing serious."
Butler's pale ginger hair made another appearance from where he was crouching behind a patch of brambles. "Good. Make the call!"
Harry threw up a shield charm, stepped clear of the oak and set fire to the trees hiding their opponents. He had no doubt that he and Butler would have the situation wrapped up quickly, still, they were also expected to follow protocol, which included calling in any attacks the moment they happened.
The oak beside Harry suddenly exploded. The force of it knocked him sideways and dissolved his protection spell. He rolled over a rock, and then enlarged it until it hid most of him. He gave a startled Butler the thumbs up and tried to conjure a happy memory.
"Expecto Patronum!" The stag burst from the wand and tossed his head. "Under attack in the field beside The Church of All Saints-two miles south of Malfoy Manor. Muggle-repelling charms have been cast, but fires have been set that will attract attention soon enough." He lightly touched his injury and noted that the swelling was getting worse. "Auror Butler, sound. Auror Potter, one injury-manageable. Two assailants wearing black Muggle coats and red masks-unidentified." The Patronus turned and ran in the direction of the Ministry before vanishing a few seconds later.
The heat and smoke from the burning trees stung Harry's eyes as the wind's direction worked against them.
"Back-up on the way?" Butler asked, narrowly missing a green curse as it sailed over his left shoulder. He flopped down next to Harry.
"Should be. Have any idea who's shooting at us?"
"Nope," Butler said, pulling at his sweat-darkened collar. "Red masks, though, that's new."
Harry nodded, a plan quickly forming in his mind. "So, let's fake with a decoy burst to the middle. I'll go right and disarm them; you cut off the bloke on the left and Incarcerous them on three, all right?"
Butler wiped a hand across his eyes leaving a sooty smudge behind. He squinted into the haze. "You don't want to wait for the team?"
"We can, but we have a better chance of getting information if we can secure them now. Once everyone starts popping up, these two will Apparate and we'll have nothing but this bloody smoke."
Butler gave a quick nod. "Makes sense to me. Say the word."
Red sparks hit the rock, sending up a spray of grit and dust. Harry raised his arm to protect his glasses, but Butler hadn't been as quick. A line of blood opened up just under his eye.
"All right," he said with look of annoyance. "I've had enough of this. Tell me when, Harry."
Harry cast a mirror charm and watched as the two men slowly walked toward his hiding place, side by side. He waited until they were within disarming distance then whispered "Now!" to Butler as he tossed the decoy up and over the rock.
They sprang into action, as planned, Harry running right and Butler charging left. The decoy spun, clanging like the sound of fifty cymbals and shot jets of hot steam at the two men who jumped back in surprise. Two wands soared into Harry's waiting left hand, and the men, void of options, lifted their arms in surrender.
Butler's silent Incarcerous was doing its work when several figures popped into existence around them. Harry's eyes swept over the usual members of the back-up team, spotting the one new addition, Draco Malfoy-medical bag in hand.
"Is it 'bring your partner to work' day already?" Harry whispered, flashing Draco a smile as the new arrivals made quick work of the fires.
Draco looked up to the heavens and shook his head slightly. "Your professionalism needs a bit of polish, Potter. You reported an injury and I was on-call."
"It's nothing that can't wait, but it's good to see you anyway."
"Thank you, but why don't you let me be the judge of how serious it is?"
Harry shrugged out of his robe and decided to mess with Draco again. "You just want to get my shirt off in front of…"
Draco's eyes went wide with panic as he spotted something over Harry's shoulder. His mouth moved, but Harry couldn't make out the words over the sudden shouts of the other Aurors.
As Harry turned toward the commotion, something red-hot slammed into the side of his head. He cried out, but the words died in his throat.
The world snapped into darkness.
~*~
Draco stood in shock, Harry's ruined robe falling from his fingers. Harry had been there, right there, and then…
There had been a man, a third man wearing the coat and mask Harry had described in his message. He'd moved so fast, or perhaps he just used the distraction to his advantage. His wand had come up, the curse flew across the field and…
Draco remembered the hit, watched helplessly when Harry's head snapped to the side and reached for him as he vanished.
Draco choked on a breath as his world flew apart. His brain tried to provide him with facts, tried to help him puzzle out where to begin, but the hollow pain in his chest was creeping higher, constricting everything and mucking up his thoughts. "Please, don't be dead," was the only thing he managed to whisper before a sizable cut opened up across his left hip. The pain spun him back to the present and he became aware of the uproar around him.
"Malfoy! Get down!" Butler demanded, seconds before he knocked Draco to the ground, streaks of light dancing overhead. "What were you thinking, just standing there? You didn't even draw your wand! Healer Malfoy! Draco, do you hear me?" Butler swore and covered them with a shimmering Shield Charm. Draco's eyes wandered down to his thigh. It wasn't good. Long cuts across tight skin usually translated to a bit more work on the Healer's part, but he couldn't make his hands reach for his wand. There was something fascinating about catching glimpses of his muscles under the blood. He chuckled weakly at the thought of all the people who made it their top priority to keep clean and tidy while inside, their human bodies were filled with so many bright colours, foul smells and busy little organisms.
Butler, as if noticing the mess for the first time, gasped, "Malfoy, stay awake! What can I do?"
"Duis Sanguinem-to stop the bleeding," Draco offered. His words sounded strange and slow, but he could do little about it but frown as Butler repeated the spell.
Draco ignored the noise around them and watched as the last colours of the evening sky surrendered to the slashes of curse light that streaked overhead. Just as he was beginning to get cold, someone shouted that the final attacker had been captured.
"Lewis! The bloody Healer is injured! He's lost a good deal of blood and I think he's in shock. Get him out of here!"
Draco heard the words and grasped their meaning just before they faded away, replaced by the image of Harry's face distorted in pain. Butler's voice droned on in the distance, but Draco closed his eyes and shut out everything except the feel of the rough fabric of Harry's robe trapped between his body and the cold ground.
~*~
Dark.
Ow!
At first, Harry thought he might have kicked off his blanket while having another bad dream, and was now back on his cot in the cupboard, but something wasn't right with that thought. He hurt all over-his head pounding, ribs stinging. He didn't need sight to know his side was a mess. Even a light touch to the puffy bump was too much, and his wet, sticky shirt clung to the injury.
There was also no light from the hallway creeping under the door-no light whatsoever, but if he wasn't under the stairs, he didn't know where else he might be. A few different images played out in his mind, but none of them seemed to fit. The last thing he remembered was watching Dudley parade his new haircut in front of Uncle Vernon. Harry thought he looked like a pig in a wig, but he hadn't said it out loud. Next, Harry was in a field laughing with a blond man, or maybe he was in a fight.
He remembered falling.
His fingers searched out the gritty surface beneath him. Dirt. He could smell it in the air as his head began to clear. He tried again to pick up on any source of light, blink his eyes to see if they still worked, but darkness surrounded him and offered no help. Crawling forward, he discovered what felt like a pile of rocks, and as he worked around the room-cave-he found more of the same, and most importantly, no way out.
When he called out for help, his voice didn't bounce or echo like he'd expected it to. It just died, melting into the dirt and dust. It also sounded wrong. He repeated the call a few times to make sure the voice really belonged to him. There was definitely something odd about the pitch - low and thick - like a man's.
Really wrong.
Slivers of fear grew into panic as he realised how much trouble he was in: hurt, trapped, scared and no indication that there was anyone around to help him out of this mess.
His head pounded, ached in a way it never had before, even after a punching episode with Dudley and Piers on the rare occasion they managed to catch him. Rubbing his eyes caused flashes and sparks of light to pop at the edge of his vision. The skin at his temple burned like the injury across his ribs, but at least there wasn't a lot of swelling. He remembered hearing something about swelling around the head being a bad thing but he couldn't remember why.
He explored his body next, fingers working down from his throbbing head: a neck too thick, shoulders too broad, shirt with buttons, chest too wide-a necklace. I don’t own a necklace, he thought, but it was there. He loosened a few buttons and felt the chain that, when pulled tight, ended in the centre of his chest. Something hung in the middle, round and smooth, probably a ring. It seemed to warm at his touch, but since that wasn't possible…
Suddenly, the ring flared with heat. He let go, but it swung back, burning where it touched his skin. He yanked at the chain, but it wouldn't give, so he held it away from him and prayed he was simply going mad or in a very bad dream and would wake soon.
As if in answer to his plea, the cave began to rumble. The floor shook with such force that the rock walls made a horrible grating noise. Harry searched his mind for what to do in the event of an earthquake, but all he could remember was something about staying away from windows and hiding under furniture. He patted his clothes, looking for something that would protect him, something he needed to hold - something he could almost see a hazy picture of in his mind, but the image faded with the next loud crash. He crouched down in the dirt and tried to stay calm, but he could feel the tears coming while rocks tumbled down around him.
As the room collapsed, he gripped the ring-harmless once again-and whispered an apology for whatever he'd done to end up in this place. As his world ended, Harry thought he heard someone calling out his name. It was one last good thought, but he knew he had never been more alone.
~*~
Draco limped forward down the hall, clinging to the temporary walking cane so tightly his knuckles had lost all colour. He'd refused the floating chair, although he was half-regretting it now. He knew the other staff members were only doing their jobs, tending to their colleague-admirable and right-but their work of mending his leg had kept him from being present when Harry had been brought in.
Making the turn down the next corridor sent a shock of pain down his leg. It was quick enough work to close up the injury, but the muscles and tendons weren’t as willing to forgive and forget. The leg needed a few days rest to regain strength, it's what Draco would have demanded of any other patient, but he wasn't waiting around while Harry needed him. More to the fact, he needed to see Harry with his own eyes before any resting was in the cards.
Master Healer Attwood stood in front of the door to Harry's room. He passed something to Healer Kelly and sent her on her way before making eye contact with Draco.
The man looked liked Draco felt-torn, exhausted. It was the look of someone bearing bad news.
"Healer Attwo… Erastus," Draco began, pausing to take a deep breath. "What's his status?"
The man sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I have a monster of a dilemma, Draco, and I'm not sure I know how to proceed."
Draco swallowed and tried to remain calm, but he was sure his heart was echoing down the corridor. If the head of St Mungo's was withholding information, the situation was far worse than Draco had anticipated. "Just tell me."
A weary half-smile appeared as he moved closer and lowered his voice. "But whom should I tell: Healer Malfoy or Draco, the husband?" He pressed a warm hand onto Draco's shoulder. "I'm afraid this is going to be much harder on the latter."
Draco's chest was aching again, stealing his breath away as he assumed the worst. His fingers searched out the ring hidden under his shirt. "It's still warm. He can't be dead. What, what is it? I want to see him."
"And so you will, but I think it might be better if you're prepared. Let's begin with the physical. He is, considering his ordeal and condition after the cave collapsed, doing fairly well, physically. Minor abrasions, bruising, slight dehydration, elevated blood pressure, soft tissue damage and three cracked ribs - all taken care of."
"Who administered the treatment?"
"Taking into account Mr Potter's high profile, the concern of the Ministry and the nature of his complications, I've assigned myself and sent for a few specialists I know and trust. If you feel up to it, I believe the team could do with your expertise as well."
"Thank you, sir." Draco wished the conversation would come to a conclusion. The longer he stayed out in the corridor, the harder it was to keep composed in front of his employer. Suddenly, Draco remembered what Erastus had been saying.
"Complications?"
"Yes. Minor trauma to both eyes from the rock fragments and dust led to infection, so he's been fitted with a shield."
Draco nodded. Temporary blindness. He and Harry could cope with that. "The shield will do its work and be off in a few days. What else?"
Erastus stepped ever closer as a group of chatty Junior Mediwizards passed by. "I'm still getting mixed opinions from the Aurors as to the type of spell used to transport Mr Potter into the cave. Prior Incantato indicated an unregistered spell called Nortia. The men who were apprehended have been unhelpful so far, but we may know more soon. Most of the team believe it was a variation on a simple banishing spell, but they're not ruling it as conclusive just yet. Whichever it was, getting hit with the full impact of the spell on the side of the head seems to have effectively banished some of Mr Potter's memories. Whether it's permanent or temporary, I'm uncertain, that's why I felt a small conference of specialists might be our best option.
"What are you saying? Harry doesn't know who he is?"
"No. He's acutely aware of who he is. His gross cognitive abilities, language skills and balance all appear normal, however, his sense of time has been skewed. Perhaps you should see for yourself, but I'm not going to dip it in honey-this will be difficult for both of you.
"What can I do?"
"He won’t be able to see you, so just enter with me and observe. I'll have a short conversation with him, and you'll be able to assess his recall."
"Gods, all right. " Draco took a deep breath, and tried to remember how to pray.
~*~
The door made a soft swishing noise and was followed by two sets of footsteps. One set kept walking until Harry knew someone was in front of him, but the other person took their time getting through the door, their footfalls sounding a little disjointed.
Harry sat up on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Even blind, it still bothered him that his brain and body didn’t seem to match up. He remembered how it had felt before, how he used to have no trouble resting his chin on top of his knees or wrapping his arms around. Now the position just felt awkward. He felt like an elephant trying to hide in a miniature village. Maybe his... Well, maybe whatever it was that caused Harry to do wonky things from time to time had finally gone haywire. Had he wished at some point to be bigger, and it had just happened?
For the past few hours, questions had been flying around in his mind: Will doctors know how to fix me? Will they throw me out? Have they rung the Dursleys? What do I tell Uncle Vernon when he asks about how I ended up in here?
"Good afternoon, Mr Potter."
Harry stiffened, but tried to relax once he recognised the voice. He liked the smooth tone and the kindness underneath. “You can call me Harry."
"Yes, of course, Harry. Do you remember my name?"
"Doctor… Attwater, Atwoll, At…something! Attwood?"
"Very good! Excellent memory! Sweet?"
The sound of the crinkling wrapper was easy to locate. Harry nodded and held out his hand. "Yes, thanks."
"And how are you feeling now?"
"All right. My eyes are itchy."
"Understandable, and they will be for a while longer. I'm afraid there's nothing too much to be done about that, but you mustn't scratch."
"I'll try."
“Anything else?”
“Er... My thoughts are still fuzzy, like looking through a waterfall.”
"That might take a little longer than the eyes to sort, but I wouldn't worry overmuch. I want you to rest as much as possible. Oh, Harry," he said, as if he'd suddenly been hit with a thought. "One of the clerks seems to have misplaced the information you gave us earlier. Would you mind if I took it down again quickly?"
"Sure."
"Can you tell me your address?"
"Number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."
"And whom do you live with?"
"My aunt Petunia, my uncle Vernon and my cousin, Dudley."
"How old are you, Harry."
They hadn't asked him that the first time. He wanted to answer truthfully, but he also knew what the doctor could see-a grown man sitting in front of him on the bed. He took a chance and hoped he wouldn't find himself in the place they keep the chaps who have gone mental.
"Nearly eleven.” I think
He'd all but forgotten about the second set of feet when the other man in the room inhaled sharply, choked on his breath and left the room in a hurry. Something clattered to the floor.
Harry wondered if he'd made a big mistake. "Who was that?"
"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't get to introduce you. That was Healer Malfoy."
"Is he okay?"
"Not to worry, my boy. He's just gone through a bit of a shock today. I'm sure he'll be right as Ravenclaw in no time. "
Ravenclaw? "Oh. That's good, then." He suddenly noticed how hungry he was, and wondered just how long his hospital stay would last. "Um, sir?" he paused, not knowing how to continue. There was never an easy way to admit…
"Yes, Harry?"
"You should probably ring my relatives to come get me now. I don't know how much this all costs, but I know whatever it is, my uncle won't want to pay it-not for me, anyway, but once I'm well, I can come back and work off..." A warm hand squeezed his shoulder.
"You just relax. All that's been taken care of. This room is your temporary home until you're properly healed. Food will come, regardless, but if you would like anything else, just ask. Would a little music help, or someone your own age to chat with?"
"There're other kids here?" He thought it might be great to talk with another boy, anyone really, but then again, he didn't suppose they'd want to sit and visit with someone double their size.
"Certainly."
"Dr Atwood, what happened to my ribs? They were really bad, but now… And why am I…big? Sorry for asking, but sometimes weird things just happen around me, and I don't know why."
"You're worried, I know. Let's just say we knew how to fix your side, and we did. Your eyes need a tick longer, but they'll be fine again soon enough. As for the other, we're just as baffled as you are, that's why we're hoping to keep you here, safe and well-fed," he playfully tapped a finger against Harry's stomach. "At least until we figure out if this is all temporary or not. There's an ocean's worth of other information we need to share with you, but I believe it would be better if you rested tonight and we begin fresh in the morning with Heal… Doctor Malfoy."
Harry wasn't sure he wanted to meet the man who'd run off, but since Doctor Attwood had been more than decent, he figured he'd trust the recommendation and at least try to be polite to the new man. "What's he like?"
"Comes across a little sharp with his humour, but he's a fine physician, one of the best I've ever worked with, honestly. Something tells me you'll get along like tea and sugar." He exhaled and hummed a bit as if he were getting ready to go. "All right, Harry. You get comfortable and I'll arrange for food and some music. Once your eyes are in the clear, we'll work on giving you a tour and some company, yes?"
"Yes, Thank you, sir."
"Rest well, Harry."
Before the door had finished its closing swish, Harry heard Doctor Attwood call someone over. He couldn't pick out everything, but he was certain he heard the words: potion, tea and security.
He stretched out on the bed and realised that even as large as he was, this bed fit him perfectly. It was wonderful and strange all at once. He thought he should probably feel uneasy, or at least slightly homesick for his familiar surroundings, but truth be told, he wasn't afraid at all-maybe a little lonely, but he'd always been that.
He could smell it the moment his food arrived, and Harry's stomach gave a rumble of anticipation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything, but his body was telling him it had been long enough. He was a bit clumsy with the cutlery, but the young woman who brought the meal told him where everything was on the tray, and told him it was perfectly fine to use his fingers to explore the plate. When he'd cleared the last of the chocolate square and the refreshingly cold juice that tasted like sweet squash, he was too tired to be embarrassed by how much his stomach could hold.
He settled down into the bed. It took a moment to find a position that didn't push at his eye shield, but once he did, sleep took him quickly.
~*~
Chapter 2
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rated: NC-17 (eventually)
Chapter 1/10 (complete)
Words: 40,000+ (this chapter 4,200)
Summary: Harry is hit by an unknown curse and loses eighteen years of his memories. When he wakes up, he doesn't remember magic, Hogwarts or that he's happily married to a former Death Eater. Draco struggles to adapt to the changes and tries to help Harry retrieve his memories without causing further damage.
Warnings: (overall): swearing, attempted kidnapping, stages of grieving, D/s (if you squint) and sex in a public place (woo!)
Disclaimer: I do not make money from anything I write. It’s a shame, but it’s true. Harry and his world belong to JKR and WB.
Notes: First and foremost, I don’t think any of this would have been possible without saladbats and her limitless heart. She’s been my beta, friend, biggest fan and cheerleader in days of feast and in times of drought. Thank you for being on this journey with me! Thanks also to lusiology for the britpicking and lots of encouragement.
One last thank-you to my lubricus family. You keep slash alive and pulsing.
Misplaced Memories
"Harry, on your right!"
The hex cut through fabric and flesh before he could avoid the hit. He spun with the impact and found cover behind an oak. Harry gave a nod across the field to Butler for the warning and took a second to assess his burning side.
Butler called out again. "You hit?"
A quick poke through the tear of his outer robe and shirt revealed very little damage to his skin. Still, it stung like the wrong end of a Skrewt and was beginning to swell. He looked up at Butler who was directing a spiralling cloud of debris toward the two assassins hiding out behind their own trees. "Nothing serious."
Butler's pale ginger hair made another appearance from where he was crouching behind a patch of brambles. "Good. Make the call!"
Harry threw up a shield charm, stepped clear of the oak and set fire to the trees hiding their opponents. He had no doubt that he and Butler would have the situation wrapped up quickly, still, they were also expected to follow protocol, which included calling in any attacks the moment they happened.
The oak beside Harry suddenly exploded. The force of it knocked him sideways and dissolved his protection spell. He rolled over a rock, and then enlarged it until it hid most of him. He gave a startled Butler the thumbs up and tried to conjure a happy memory.
"Expecto Patronum!" The stag burst from the wand and tossed his head. "Under attack in the field beside The Church of All Saints-two miles south of Malfoy Manor. Muggle-repelling charms have been cast, but fires have been set that will attract attention soon enough." He lightly touched his injury and noted that the swelling was getting worse. "Auror Butler, sound. Auror Potter, one injury-manageable. Two assailants wearing black Muggle coats and red masks-unidentified." The Patronus turned and ran in the direction of the Ministry before vanishing a few seconds later.
The heat and smoke from the burning trees stung Harry's eyes as the wind's direction worked against them.
"Back-up on the way?" Butler asked, narrowly missing a green curse as it sailed over his left shoulder. He flopped down next to Harry.
"Should be. Have any idea who's shooting at us?"
"Nope," Butler said, pulling at his sweat-darkened collar. "Red masks, though, that's new."
Harry nodded, a plan quickly forming in his mind. "So, let's fake with a decoy burst to the middle. I'll go right and disarm them; you cut off the bloke on the left and Incarcerous them on three, all right?"
Butler wiped a hand across his eyes leaving a sooty smudge behind. He squinted into the haze. "You don't want to wait for the team?"
"We can, but we have a better chance of getting information if we can secure them now. Once everyone starts popping up, these two will Apparate and we'll have nothing but this bloody smoke."
Butler gave a quick nod. "Makes sense to me. Say the word."
Red sparks hit the rock, sending up a spray of grit and dust. Harry raised his arm to protect his glasses, but Butler hadn't been as quick. A line of blood opened up just under his eye.
"All right," he said with look of annoyance. "I've had enough of this. Tell me when, Harry."
Harry cast a mirror charm and watched as the two men slowly walked toward his hiding place, side by side. He waited until they were within disarming distance then whispered "Now!" to Butler as he tossed the decoy up and over the rock.
They sprang into action, as planned, Harry running right and Butler charging left. The decoy spun, clanging like the sound of fifty cymbals and shot jets of hot steam at the two men who jumped back in surprise. Two wands soared into Harry's waiting left hand, and the men, void of options, lifted their arms in surrender.
Butler's silent Incarcerous was doing its work when several figures popped into existence around them. Harry's eyes swept over the usual members of the back-up team, spotting the one new addition, Draco Malfoy-medical bag in hand.
"Is it 'bring your partner to work' day already?" Harry whispered, flashing Draco a smile as the new arrivals made quick work of the fires.
Draco looked up to the heavens and shook his head slightly. "Your professionalism needs a bit of polish, Potter. You reported an injury and I was on-call."
"It's nothing that can't wait, but it's good to see you anyway."
"Thank you, but why don't you let me be the judge of how serious it is?"
Harry shrugged out of his robe and decided to mess with Draco again. "You just want to get my shirt off in front of…"
Draco's eyes went wide with panic as he spotted something over Harry's shoulder. His mouth moved, but Harry couldn't make out the words over the sudden shouts of the other Aurors.
As Harry turned toward the commotion, something red-hot slammed into the side of his head. He cried out, but the words died in his throat.
The world snapped into darkness.
~*~
Draco stood in shock, Harry's ruined robe falling from his fingers. Harry had been there, right there, and then…
There had been a man, a third man wearing the coat and mask Harry had described in his message. He'd moved so fast, or perhaps he just used the distraction to his advantage. His wand had come up, the curse flew across the field and…
Draco remembered the hit, watched helplessly when Harry's head snapped to the side and reached for him as he vanished.
Draco choked on a breath as his world flew apart. His brain tried to provide him with facts, tried to help him puzzle out where to begin, but the hollow pain in his chest was creeping higher, constricting everything and mucking up his thoughts. "Please, don't be dead," was the only thing he managed to whisper before a sizable cut opened up across his left hip. The pain spun him back to the present and he became aware of the uproar around him.
"Malfoy! Get down!" Butler demanded, seconds before he knocked Draco to the ground, streaks of light dancing overhead. "What were you thinking, just standing there? You didn't even draw your wand! Healer Malfoy! Draco, do you hear me?" Butler swore and covered them with a shimmering Shield Charm. Draco's eyes wandered down to his thigh. It wasn't good. Long cuts across tight skin usually translated to a bit more work on the Healer's part, but he couldn't make his hands reach for his wand. There was something fascinating about catching glimpses of his muscles under the blood. He chuckled weakly at the thought of all the people who made it their top priority to keep clean and tidy while inside, their human bodies were filled with so many bright colours, foul smells and busy little organisms.
Butler, as if noticing the mess for the first time, gasped, "Malfoy, stay awake! What can I do?"
"Duis Sanguinem-to stop the bleeding," Draco offered. His words sounded strange and slow, but he could do little about it but frown as Butler repeated the spell.
Draco ignored the noise around them and watched as the last colours of the evening sky surrendered to the slashes of curse light that streaked overhead. Just as he was beginning to get cold, someone shouted that the final attacker had been captured.
"Lewis! The bloody Healer is injured! He's lost a good deal of blood and I think he's in shock. Get him out of here!"
Draco heard the words and grasped their meaning just before they faded away, replaced by the image of Harry's face distorted in pain. Butler's voice droned on in the distance, but Draco closed his eyes and shut out everything except the feel of the rough fabric of Harry's robe trapped between his body and the cold ground.
~*~
Dark.
Ow!
At first, Harry thought he might have kicked off his blanket while having another bad dream, and was now back on his cot in the cupboard, but something wasn't right with that thought. He hurt all over-his head pounding, ribs stinging. He didn't need sight to know his side was a mess. Even a light touch to the puffy bump was too much, and his wet, sticky shirt clung to the injury.
There was also no light from the hallway creeping under the door-no light whatsoever, but if he wasn't under the stairs, he didn't know where else he might be. A few different images played out in his mind, but none of them seemed to fit. The last thing he remembered was watching Dudley parade his new haircut in front of Uncle Vernon. Harry thought he looked like a pig in a wig, but he hadn't said it out loud. Next, Harry was in a field laughing with a blond man, or maybe he was in a fight.
He remembered falling.
His fingers searched out the gritty surface beneath him. Dirt. He could smell it in the air as his head began to clear. He tried again to pick up on any source of light, blink his eyes to see if they still worked, but darkness surrounded him and offered no help. Crawling forward, he discovered what felt like a pile of rocks, and as he worked around the room-cave-he found more of the same, and most importantly, no way out.
When he called out for help, his voice didn't bounce or echo like he'd expected it to. It just died, melting into the dirt and dust. It also sounded wrong. He repeated the call a few times to make sure the voice really belonged to him. There was definitely something odd about the pitch - low and thick - like a man's.
Really wrong.
Slivers of fear grew into panic as he realised how much trouble he was in: hurt, trapped, scared and no indication that there was anyone around to help him out of this mess.
His head pounded, ached in a way it never had before, even after a punching episode with Dudley and Piers on the rare occasion they managed to catch him. Rubbing his eyes caused flashes and sparks of light to pop at the edge of his vision. The skin at his temple burned like the injury across his ribs, but at least there wasn't a lot of swelling. He remembered hearing something about swelling around the head being a bad thing but he couldn't remember why.
He explored his body next, fingers working down from his throbbing head: a neck too thick, shoulders too broad, shirt with buttons, chest too wide-a necklace. I don’t own a necklace, he thought, but it was there. He loosened a few buttons and felt the chain that, when pulled tight, ended in the centre of his chest. Something hung in the middle, round and smooth, probably a ring. It seemed to warm at his touch, but since that wasn't possible…
Suddenly, the ring flared with heat. He let go, but it swung back, burning where it touched his skin. He yanked at the chain, but it wouldn't give, so he held it away from him and prayed he was simply going mad or in a very bad dream and would wake soon.
As if in answer to his plea, the cave began to rumble. The floor shook with such force that the rock walls made a horrible grating noise. Harry searched his mind for what to do in the event of an earthquake, but all he could remember was something about staying away from windows and hiding under furniture. He patted his clothes, looking for something that would protect him, something he needed to hold - something he could almost see a hazy picture of in his mind, but the image faded with the next loud crash. He crouched down in the dirt and tried to stay calm, but he could feel the tears coming while rocks tumbled down around him.
As the room collapsed, he gripped the ring-harmless once again-and whispered an apology for whatever he'd done to end up in this place. As his world ended, Harry thought he heard someone calling out his name. It was one last good thought, but he knew he had never been more alone.
~*~
Draco limped forward down the hall, clinging to the temporary walking cane so tightly his knuckles had lost all colour. He'd refused the floating chair, although he was half-regretting it now. He knew the other staff members were only doing their jobs, tending to their colleague-admirable and right-but their work of mending his leg had kept him from being present when Harry had been brought in.
Making the turn down the next corridor sent a shock of pain down his leg. It was quick enough work to close up the injury, but the muscles and tendons weren’t as willing to forgive and forget. The leg needed a few days rest to regain strength, it's what Draco would have demanded of any other patient, but he wasn't waiting around while Harry needed him. More to the fact, he needed to see Harry with his own eyes before any resting was in the cards.
Master Healer Attwood stood in front of the door to Harry's room. He passed something to Healer Kelly and sent her on her way before making eye contact with Draco.
The man looked liked Draco felt-torn, exhausted. It was the look of someone bearing bad news.
"Healer Attwo… Erastus," Draco began, pausing to take a deep breath. "What's his status?"
The man sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I have a monster of a dilemma, Draco, and I'm not sure I know how to proceed."
Draco swallowed and tried to remain calm, but he was sure his heart was echoing down the corridor. If the head of St Mungo's was withholding information, the situation was far worse than Draco had anticipated. "Just tell me."
A weary half-smile appeared as he moved closer and lowered his voice. "But whom should I tell: Healer Malfoy or Draco, the husband?" He pressed a warm hand onto Draco's shoulder. "I'm afraid this is going to be much harder on the latter."
Draco's chest was aching again, stealing his breath away as he assumed the worst. His fingers searched out the ring hidden under his shirt. "It's still warm. He can't be dead. What, what is it? I want to see him."
"And so you will, but I think it might be better if you're prepared. Let's begin with the physical. He is, considering his ordeal and condition after the cave collapsed, doing fairly well, physically. Minor abrasions, bruising, slight dehydration, elevated blood pressure, soft tissue damage and three cracked ribs - all taken care of."
"Who administered the treatment?"
"Taking into account Mr Potter's high profile, the concern of the Ministry and the nature of his complications, I've assigned myself and sent for a few specialists I know and trust. If you feel up to it, I believe the team could do with your expertise as well."
"Thank you, sir." Draco wished the conversation would come to a conclusion. The longer he stayed out in the corridor, the harder it was to keep composed in front of his employer. Suddenly, Draco remembered what Erastus had been saying.
"Complications?"
"Yes. Minor trauma to both eyes from the rock fragments and dust led to infection, so he's been fitted with a shield."
Draco nodded. Temporary blindness. He and Harry could cope with that. "The shield will do its work and be off in a few days. What else?"
Erastus stepped ever closer as a group of chatty Junior Mediwizards passed by. "I'm still getting mixed opinions from the Aurors as to the type of spell used to transport Mr Potter into the cave. Prior Incantato indicated an unregistered spell called Nortia. The men who were apprehended have been unhelpful so far, but we may know more soon. Most of the team believe it was a variation on a simple banishing spell, but they're not ruling it as conclusive just yet. Whichever it was, getting hit with the full impact of the spell on the side of the head seems to have effectively banished some of Mr Potter's memories. Whether it's permanent or temporary, I'm uncertain, that's why I felt a small conference of specialists might be our best option.
"What are you saying? Harry doesn't know who he is?"
"No. He's acutely aware of who he is. His gross cognitive abilities, language skills and balance all appear normal, however, his sense of time has been skewed. Perhaps you should see for yourself, but I'm not going to dip it in honey-this will be difficult for both of you.
"What can I do?"
"He won’t be able to see you, so just enter with me and observe. I'll have a short conversation with him, and you'll be able to assess his recall."
"Gods, all right. " Draco took a deep breath, and tried to remember how to pray.
~*~
The door made a soft swishing noise and was followed by two sets of footsteps. One set kept walking until Harry knew someone was in front of him, but the other person took their time getting through the door, their footfalls sounding a little disjointed.
Harry sat up on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Even blind, it still bothered him that his brain and body didn’t seem to match up. He remembered how it had felt before, how he used to have no trouble resting his chin on top of his knees or wrapping his arms around. Now the position just felt awkward. He felt like an elephant trying to hide in a miniature village. Maybe his... Well, maybe whatever it was that caused Harry to do wonky things from time to time had finally gone haywire. Had he wished at some point to be bigger, and it had just happened?
For the past few hours, questions had been flying around in his mind: Will doctors know how to fix me? Will they throw me out? Have they rung the Dursleys? What do I tell Uncle Vernon when he asks about how I ended up in here?
"Good afternoon, Mr Potter."
Harry stiffened, but tried to relax once he recognised the voice. He liked the smooth tone and the kindness underneath. “You can call me Harry."
"Yes, of course, Harry. Do you remember my name?"
"Doctor… Attwater, Atwoll, At…something! Attwood?"
"Very good! Excellent memory! Sweet?"
The sound of the crinkling wrapper was easy to locate. Harry nodded and held out his hand. "Yes, thanks."
"And how are you feeling now?"
"All right. My eyes are itchy."
"Understandable, and they will be for a while longer. I'm afraid there's nothing too much to be done about that, but you mustn't scratch."
"I'll try."
“Anything else?”
“Er... My thoughts are still fuzzy, like looking through a waterfall.”
"That might take a little longer than the eyes to sort, but I wouldn't worry overmuch. I want you to rest as much as possible. Oh, Harry," he said, as if he'd suddenly been hit with a thought. "One of the clerks seems to have misplaced the information you gave us earlier. Would you mind if I took it down again quickly?"
"Sure."
"Can you tell me your address?"
"Number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."
"And whom do you live with?"
"My aunt Petunia, my uncle Vernon and my cousin, Dudley."
"How old are you, Harry."
They hadn't asked him that the first time. He wanted to answer truthfully, but he also knew what the doctor could see-a grown man sitting in front of him on the bed. He took a chance and hoped he wouldn't find himself in the place they keep the chaps who have gone mental.
"Nearly eleven.” I think
He'd all but forgotten about the second set of feet when the other man in the room inhaled sharply, choked on his breath and left the room in a hurry. Something clattered to the floor.
Harry wondered if he'd made a big mistake. "Who was that?"
"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't get to introduce you. That was Healer Malfoy."
"Is he okay?"
"Not to worry, my boy. He's just gone through a bit of a shock today. I'm sure he'll be right as Ravenclaw in no time. "
Ravenclaw? "Oh. That's good, then." He suddenly noticed how hungry he was, and wondered just how long his hospital stay would last. "Um, sir?" he paused, not knowing how to continue. There was never an easy way to admit…
"Yes, Harry?"
"You should probably ring my relatives to come get me now. I don't know how much this all costs, but I know whatever it is, my uncle won't want to pay it-not for me, anyway, but once I'm well, I can come back and work off..." A warm hand squeezed his shoulder.
"You just relax. All that's been taken care of. This room is your temporary home until you're properly healed. Food will come, regardless, but if you would like anything else, just ask. Would a little music help, or someone your own age to chat with?"
"There're other kids here?" He thought it might be great to talk with another boy, anyone really, but then again, he didn't suppose they'd want to sit and visit with someone double their size.
"Certainly."
"Dr Atwood, what happened to my ribs? They were really bad, but now… And why am I…big? Sorry for asking, but sometimes weird things just happen around me, and I don't know why."
"You're worried, I know. Let's just say we knew how to fix your side, and we did. Your eyes need a tick longer, but they'll be fine again soon enough. As for the other, we're just as baffled as you are, that's why we're hoping to keep you here, safe and well-fed," he playfully tapped a finger against Harry's stomach. "At least until we figure out if this is all temporary or not. There's an ocean's worth of other information we need to share with you, but I believe it would be better if you rested tonight and we begin fresh in the morning with Heal… Doctor Malfoy."
Harry wasn't sure he wanted to meet the man who'd run off, but since Doctor Attwood had been more than decent, he figured he'd trust the recommendation and at least try to be polite to the new man. "What's he like?"
"Comes across a little sharp with his humour, but he's a fine physician, one of the best I've ever worked with, honestly. Something tells me you'll get along like tea and sugar." He exhaled and hummed a bit as if he were getting ready to go. "All right, Harry. You get comfortable and I'll arrange for food and some music. Once your eyes are in the clear, we'll work on giving you a tour and some company, yes?"
"Yes, Thank you, sir."
"Rest well, Harry."
Before the door had finished its closing swish, Harry heard Doctor Attwood call someone over. He couldn't pick out everything, but he was certain he heard the words: potion, tea and security.
He stretched out on the bed and realised that even as large as he was, this bed fit him perfectly. It was wonderful and strange all at once. He thought he should probably feel uneasy, or at least slightly homesick for his familiar surroundings, but truth be told, he wasn't afraid at all-maybe a little lonely, but he'd always been that.
He could smell it the moment his food arrived, and Harry's stomach gave a rumble of anticipation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything, but his body was telling him it had been long enough. He was a bit clumsy with the cutlery, but the young woman who brought the meal told him where everything was on the tray, and told him it was perfectly fine to use his fingers to explore the plate. When he'd cleared the last of the chocolate square and the refreshingly cold juice that tasted like sweet squash, he was too tired to be embarrassed by how much his stomach could hold.
He settled down into the bed. It took a moment to find a position that didn't push at his eye shield, but once he did, sleep took him quickly.
~*~
Chapter 2