Never A Memory

~Beyond the Invisible~



At dawn...

***



'I know I'm connected to him.



'The man with those green eyes is always there in my dreams. I watch him watch me and it really feels like neither of us are supposed to be there.



'Nobody sees him in my dreams save I; isn't that strange? And he watches a different version of me. Sometimes I'm a boy cowering in front of a snake of a man with evil, terrible eyes and the man I am convinced now is my father; the one with the long white hair, and the merciless, angry, gray eyes.



'Sometimes I'm a man with wild hair. I am brewing something in a large pot, or speaking tiredly into a mirror, or talking to an old, old man with half-moon spectacles...a man that makes my heart clench with sadness every time I look at him. Once, I saw myself groomed and brave. I was a boy still, no more than seventeen, but I seemed so much older as I stared down the snake of a man when he arrived at the funeral. I called the dead woman my mother. I wonder if I am an orphan now. I must be, if my visions are true. And there is always at least two of me in the room...including the man with the green eyes, the green eyes that show so much emotion when he thinks no one is looking.



'The more and more I think about it, the more I believe that I wouldn't see these things if he wasn't there. Well, because he's always there. I have a feeling that he's trying to understand me too.



'Regardless, I am unsure whether or not I should count these dreams as memories. They are so extreme and so bizarre. Yet, what I did to Bane was also extreme and bizarre. There is familiar magic surrounding my dreams. They frighten me so badly that I often wake to the sound of my own screams; even if I wasn't asleep when I began having them in the first place. I am growing increasingly terrified of my own memories and I wonder if it is better to remain naive and just try to start a new life. Maybe actually becoming this John Smith person everyone insists on calling me is better than the person I am in my dreams.



'I know my name now.



'At least, according to my dreams. Draco Malfoy.



'Such an odd name, to be sure, but it feels...right...somehow.



'I am the same in my dreams, in a way, but also so very different. The people in my dreams are different. They seem to be surrounded with a different kind of energy. I want to say magic, but I know I'll sound crazy. Even Mettle says there's no such thing as magic.



'Bane avoids me now. I like it better that way, though it does seem strange to have only one person following me around and protecting my doorway. The Betties locked Bane up for days because he wouldn't quit screaming about how I tried to kill him with magic.



'They asked me once if his claims had any merit and I laughed in their faces. What exactly am I supposed to say? Yes, Betty, I am a murderous magician who can manipulate forces of nature beyond your reckoning. Right. If that doesn't get me a life sentence here, nothing will.



'I'm pretty certain they will let me out soon. I hear Betties whispering about an apartment being set up for me. I am worried about the dreams, though. They do not always attack me when I sleep. Sometimes the images flood my brain when I am wakeful and they will not release their hold on me until they are finished. I must get a hold on these visions. If a Betty catches me during one, they will lock me up like Bane for sure.



'I meet with Dr. Laeverton today. Perhaps I can get a definitive answer on when I'll be released from this God forsaken place.'



Draco closed his journal and gazed out of the window. The snow outside was melting and the days were getting warmer. Though Draco hadn't seen the Eagle Owl for days, Draco knew he was out there somewhere. Maybe the bird was being cautious after the incident with the snake.



Draco drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.



Mettle knocked at the door and Draco answered. "What is it, Mettle?"



"Betty says the Doc's ready for ya," Mettle replied.



Draco nodded. "I'll be out momentarily," Draco said before closing the door again. Draco went to his nightstand and retrieved the other notebook he kept for Dr. Laeverton's sessions with him. Draco threw on a light blazer and righted his hair before stepping from the room.



Mettle, who was an avid baseball fan, began chattering straight away about this team and that, excited the sport's season was beginning. Draco paused by the Betties' office, trying to pick up their whispers as he usually did.



He caught "...Smith.." and "...I don't think he's ready..." but it was incredibly difficult to discern what exactly they were saying with Mettle jabbering away next to him. Draco swatted Mettle across his head with the notebook in his right hand.



"Bloody well shut your howling screamer, you twat," Draco hissed as he leaned closer to the whispers. Mettle instantly pressed his lips together, rubbing at his head with chubby fingers.



"Well, I don't really care if he's got his memory back or not," a female voice said. "That young man's unnatural. I don't think he's crazy, but somethin' about him makes my skin crawl. I want him outta here. Crazies I can handle. Smith? He's just too much."



"You have a point, Leti," a male voice concurred. "But I think somethin' even stranger is going on here. I mean, why was he sent here in the first place? And then, all a sudden, the Doc gets a phone call out of no where sayin' we got to set him loose! I tell you, Leti, I sleep better at night knowing he's locked up here. When he's out and about...I just don't know. Somethin' ain't right."



Draco smirked, a satisfaction he couldn't explain making his smile wider and wider, before he frowned and then scowled. Dr. Laeverton had received a phone call urging him to release Smith?



Why?



Draco moved forward through the Ward until he reached the Doc's office. Turning to Mettle and nodding curtly at him, Draco reached for the doorknob, energy from his fingers automatically unlocking the simple mechanism, and opened the door.



Inside, Dr. Laeverton was speaking to a man with dark brown hair, olive skin, and hazel eyes. The man turned and regarded Draco quietly when he entered the room and sat in his usual seat.



Draco raised his eyes and met the man's hazel ones with an expectant expression. The man smiled genuinely and Dr. Laeverton came to his feet.



"Mr. Smith, this is your new social worker, an old friend of mine," Dr. Laeverton said with a smile. "I took the liberty of arranging one for you as a certain Mr. Worcestershire came down with a nasty bout of influenza.



Draco raised a pale brow. Being a pro at lies and deceit, Draco could spot one straight away. "His name, doctor? Or should I just call him 'Social Worker'?" The Doc had been so busy formulating and delivering his lie, he had forgotten to properly introduce the man.



"Deans," the man said offering his hand. "Michael Deans. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith."



Draco accepted his hand and shook it firmly, an easy smile curving his lips. "I'm sure," Draco murmured, his gray eyes taking in Deans' features a second time. The man wasn't bad looking.



Deans paused when he noticed Draco sizing him up and watched a mischievous glint spread through the younger man's eyes.



Draco suddenly shifted his attention back to Dr. Laeverton, allowing his fingers to slip away from Deans' grasp, and settled back into the chair. The two other men remained standing.



"Yes, I know I'm early," Draco said. "I've heard some interesting rumors from your staff. I couldn't resist, mate."



"I see," Dr. Laeverton said, exchanging a glance with Deans. "Well, Mr. Smith, in little over a week, you may be released and Deans is here to assist you in any way possible."



Draco's teasing, mischievous eyes went back up to roam Deans' face. "Really?" Deans shifted uncomfortably.



Draco smoothed over the pointed look with a charming smile and a flash of perfectly white teeth before looking back at the Doc. "I've heard more than that, Doc," Draco pressed.



"Well, maybe you would like to enlighten me," Dr. Laeverton replied.



"Someone on the outside wants me out," Draco said, getting to the point as his charisma vanished and was replaced with he dark intuitiveness that usually surrounded Draco Malfoy. "And, judging by this bloke," Draco added, jerking his chin towards Deans, "you don't trust it. Or, perhaps, you don't think I'm ready."



Dr. Laeverton nodded and exchanged another glance with Deans. "A little of both, I suppose."



Draco laced his fingers in front of him. "So, what do we do now?"



Dr. Laeverton sighed. "I'm going to request your cooperation--"



"And why would I give you that, Doc? You just lied to me."



"Mr. Smith, please. You and I both know you haven't been completely honest with me either. Your entire file is a lie."



Draco snorted. "You and I both know I bloody well would have chosen a better name for myself if I hade made that bollocks up, mate," Draco replied.



"Like your journal?"



Draco's mouth quirked and then he grinned. "Yeah, like my journal, Doc."



"Mr. Smith, I have to insist--"



"Doctor, really," Draco interrupted, leaning closer. "I'll go along. You people are the only ones I know. Why wouldn't I?"



Dr. Laeverton allowed himself a small smile. "Very good, Mr. Smith. Deans, I trust you can show yourself out?"



Deans nodded and tried to catch Draco's eye. Draco smiled but did not look at him.



After Deans left the room, Dr. Laeverton took a seat. "Have you made any plans?"



"Plans?"



"Yes," Dr. Laeverton said. "Like where you're going to look for work, what you would like to do once you get out, and the like."



Draco frowned. "I'll probably just research my past. Do I need to work?"



"Yes, Mr. Smith," Dr. Laeverton said with small laugh. "You'll find that life is quite difficult without a job."



Draco wrinkled his nose. "I don't recall ever having to before."



"You're still young, Mr. Smith. Many things change as you become older."



Draco ran his tongue over his teeth and chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking.



"Deans, will help you acquire a job, should you ask," Dr. Laeverton offered.



Draco nodded before a wicked grin spread along his face. "Pretty little ponce, isn't he?"



Dr. Laeverton nearly choked on his own saliva. "Excuse me?"



"Deans," Draco clarified with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Never mind, doctor."



Dr. Laeverton asked for Draco's notebook and looked it over. When he was finished, he closed it and handed it back. "My staff tells me you have nightmares," the Doc said quietly. "Strange to see none of them recorded."



Draco shrugged. "I'm not even supposed to have them, remember?"



Dr. Laeverton raised a salt and pepper brow.



"The lovely little blue pills that are supposed to make me sleep soundly..." Draco reminded him.



Dr. Laeverton scoffed at his patient. "I know you haven't taken them for weeks, Mr. Smith."



Draco laughed and opened his mouth to say something before wincing. Draco let out a little gasp and his hand flew to his the lightening bolt scar that began burning on his forehead.



"Mr. Smith?"



Draco winced again as he felt himself being torn from the room before him. He hung in a black void, connected to nothing, before a bright flash nearly blinded and suddenly, he was speeding towards it.



Dr. Laeverton leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of Draco's face, the vacant expression immobile.



***



It was the only memory in the journal labeled 'Harry Potter'.



Harry was shocked to find that it stretched over nearly three hours of memory blocks and pieces...and that they were all centered around both their first day at Hogwarts. Except for the first stretch of it.



It began with the young Draco Malfoy meeting Harry Potter for the first time in Diagon Alley and then lurched forward to Lucius giving Draco a final lecture before allowing him to board Hogwarts Express. Then there was an initial meeting with Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson. Then Draco roamed around the train by himself for nearly an hour before speaking to a ten year old Harry Potter.



There was special focus on the young Draco offering his hand as he offered his friendship. When Harry refuses both, Draco seems merely confused and Harry realized for the first time that Draco Malfoy was the only child from Hogwarts who tried to befriend Harry before knowing who he was in Diagon Alley. The offered hand of friendship after learning Harry's name was done for public reasons on Draco's part. Being rejected hadn't actually angered him, it confused him.



Then the memory fast forwarded to the Sorting Hat inside Hogwarts. Harry watched Draco's young face grow darker and darker with anger as the ten year old Harry Potter begged the Sorting Hat not to place him in Slytherin. Someone murmured something into Draco's ear, but Draco jerked his head away, his eyes never leaving Harry as the Sorting Hat tried to explain why he would do well in Slytherin. But the Hat finally conceded and placed Harry in Gryffindor and Draco's gray eyes fairly spit fire as they watched Harry take his seat at the Gryffindor table.



The image shimmered and faded and Harry found himself staring at his hands outside of the Pensieve. If it was the Sorting and not the denied friendship that had caused Draco to hate and torment him for years, what did that mean?



Was it possible that Draco Malfoy had resented Harry Potter for being able to choose outside of his nature, and not for all the other petty things that he had originally suspected?



Harry moved his fingers to his forehead to brush away a stray lock of hair that was tickling his skin. Finding no stray lock, Harry scratched at his forehead, over the patch of skin that used to bear his scar, trying to make the tingling sensation go away. Suddenly, he felt someone move past him and Harry whirled around.



Seeing no one, Harry called out. "Hello?"



Harry heard an echo of a gasp and strained his ears toward it.



In an instant, the presence vanished and Harry felt the loss of it like a blow. The tingling sensation was gone from his forehead and all was quiet.



Harry leaned over the journal and flipped through pages, trying to locate another important memory.



***



Draco blinked and shook his head.



"Welcome back," Dr. Laeverton murmured severely. "Memory or a blackout?"



Draco swallowed and cleared his throat as the burning in his scar faded and the feeling of being back in his skin washed over him. "Memory, I think."



"Good," the Doc said. "Let's talk about it."





***





a/n: I want to apologize for forgetting to give credit to T.S. Eliot on his wonderful poem from The Waste Land that I used in the previous chapter. The credit is there now, but many of you read the chapter before I remembered to add it in. So there it is. T.S. Eliot is the rightful owner of the poem Draco recites before Voldemorte remarks him. :)



thrnbrooke: I hope this chapter answered your last questions sufficiently; though, I'm sure you'll have new ones. ;) Thank you for your review.



wizli: Thank you! I wanted so badly for this to be HBP compatible and while some things are taking a turn for the...different...I am still satisfied with how it is turning out. Harry and Draco have many, many things to learn about one another. Harry does hold resentment for not being the one to kill Voldemorte, but he would never admit it. Especially to Ron, even though it is often obvious. These memories drastically change Harry's views of Draco. And, in a way, it isn't for the best. Draco is still Draco and Harry may find himself hoping that Draco is a different kind of person.



alexkim/arex: Thank you very much. You're right, Draco is sexy. I'll write plenty of lemons for you, don't you worry.



graballz: LOL. I hope you enjoyed the update. Thank you for your review.



jan: Thank you! I hope this chapter answered your questions. Their connection is the driving force right now. I'm excited to write the next few chapters. I'll get them out as quickly as I can. :)



devilfancy: Thank you very much. I appreciate that.