Challenge #121 Make Me
Title: Obliviated
Author: so_digress
Team: Death Eaters
Challenge: #121 Make Me
Word Count: 4x 100 word drabbles
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Angst. Kind of dark. Kind of sad. Conspicuous lack of happy ending. ("Sum up your life in four sentences.") Sorry guys, hopefully soon I will be able to get back to writing fluff and smut and humour. *sigh*
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or profit from them. JK Rowling does
Obliviated
“Harry!”
The blond wizard sat bolt upright, clutching the starched sheets. His hair was sweat-plastered to his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed red. He wore green-black striped pyjamas; the unfastened top hung open, revealing his skinny, near-hairless chest. He was breathing fast, almost panting; his knife-grey eyes darting around the room in panic.
He was in a small, white room in a small, white bed. There was no window; a single door. He thrashed his legs in vain; they were bound so tightly by the sheets that he couldn’t move at all.
“Harry!” he moaned desperately.
“Harry, Harry, Harry!”
*
The door flew open; a lime-green-clad witch bustled in.
“Harry?”
“No dear. I’m Healer Ormerod. You’re at St. Mungo’s. And you’re not Harry, you’re Draco. Draco Malfoy.”
“Potter! Harry Potter!” he snapped emphatically.
“Ooh no, I shouldn’t think so dear,” she chuckled. “He’s a lucky one, that lad. Never been in here. No, you’re definitely a Malfoy. Your parents brought you in two days ago. Said you’d had a nasty accident with a Memory Charm. Self-inflicted, I daresay. Found you by a mirror, knocked out cold. Just what was it you were trying to forget, dear?”
“Harry” he sighed, sadly.
*
All he could say, all he could see was Harry Potter. He barely knew his own name; didn’t recognise family or friends, had no memory of Hogwarts or Malfoy Manor. Couldn’t remember his schooling, the war, or the years since.
Nothing except for Harry. Harry in isolation, Harry out of context. His face, smiling or scowling. His mouth twisting as it mouthed “Malfoy”. The scruff of dark hair on his chest. His long fingers. The strong, smooth curve of his prone back. The smell of him, masculine-musky, spicy yet sweet.
Draco wrapped himself in that imagined smell like a blanket.
*
The world he lived in now was Harry. His body faded; weakened; withered. He knew nothing of the grieving relations who surrounded him; his faraway eyes didn’t register the hushed and huddled Healers. He didn’t protest or even notice when they wheeled his bed over to the long-term ward.
He existed only in his mind. And in his mind was only Harry.
“Make me forget,” he’d begged through breathless, gulping sobs. “Make me forget him, please.”
He lifted his wand to his mirror-self. Imagined a new life, innocent and pure; unaware, unhaunted by what he had lost.
“Obliviate!” he screamed.
Author: so_digress
Team: Death Eaters
Challenge: #121 Make Me
Word Count: 4x 100 word drabbles
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Angst. Kind of dark. Kind of sad. Conspicuous lack of happy ending. ("Sum up your life in four sentences.") Sorry guys, hopefully soon I will be able to get back to writing fluff and smut and humour. *sigh*
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or profit from them. JK Rowling does
Obliviated
“Harry!”
The blond wizard sat bolt upright, clutching the starched sheets. His hair was sweat-plastered to his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed red. He wore green-black striped pyjamas; the unfastened top hung open, revealing his skinny, near-hairless chest. He was breathing fast, almost panting; his knife-grey eyes darting around the room in panic.
He was in a small, white room in a small, white bed. There was no window; a single door. He thrashed his legs in vain; they were bound so tightly by the sheets that he couldn’t move at all.
“Harry!” he moaned desperately.
“Harry, Harry, Harry!”
*
The door flew open; a lime-green-clad witch bustled in.
“Harry?”
“No dear. I’m Healer Ormerod. You’re at St. Mungo’s. And you’re not Harry, you’re Draco. Draco Malfoy.”
“Potter! Harry Potter!” he snapped emphatically.
“Ooh no, I shouldn’t think so dear,” she chuckled. “He’s a lucky one, that lad. Never been in here. No, you’re definitely a Malfoy. Your parents brought you in two days ago. Said you’d had a nasty accident with a Memory Charm. Self-inflicted, I daresay. Found you by a mirror, knocked out cold. Just what was it you were trying to forget, dear?”
“Harry” he sighed, sadly.
*
All he could say, all he could see was Harry Potter. He barely knew his own name; didn’t recognise family or friends, had no memory of Hogwarts or Malfoy Manor. Couldn’t remember his schooling, the war, or the years since.
Nothing except for Harry. Harry in isolation, Harry out of context. His face, smiling or scowling. His mouth twisting as it mouthed “Malfoy”. The scruff of dark hair on his chest. His long fingers. The strong, smooth curve of his prone back. The smell of him, masculine-musky, spicy yet sweet.
Draco wrapped himself in that imagined smell like a blanket.
*
The world he lived in now was Harry. His body faded; weakened; withered. He knew nothing of the grieving relations who surrounded him; his faraway eyes didn’t register the hushed and huddled Healers. He didn’t protest or even notice when they wheeled his bed over to the long-term ward.
He existed only in his mind. And in his mind was only Harry.
“Make me forget,” he’d begged through breathless, gulping sobs. “Make me forget him, please.”
He lifted his wand to his mirror-self. Imagined a new life, innocent and pure; unaware, unhaunted by what he had lost.
“Obliviate!” he screamed.