The Burden of Memory

Many thanks to my beta Shannon for her work on this chapter.

Chapter 20 Answers

A thick soupy fog had settled over the grounds of Hogwarts and the surrounding area, so that when Harry and Draco apparated into Hogsmeade, they could barely see each other in the cloudy mass. They took tea at the Three Broomsticks in hopes that it would soon dissipate, and sat in silence while they sipped at the warm fluid.

It was an awkward silence, and Harry couldn’t seem to find a good way to break it. Draco had been fidgeting and on edge all morning, clearly not sure of what he would find at the school and what it would mean when he found whatever it was. Harry didn’t envy Draco’s position. There couldn’t be anything good for him to discover, and yet Harry could also understand the drive to want to remember all that he could.

He sat there and tried to ignore the clearly homophobic man who stared unabashedly at the two of them with disgust written clearly on his face and thought about the night before and how Draco had spilled everything he knew about his parent’s memories, his dreams, the apartment and everything else he could think of that Harry might want to know and it was clearly a hard thing for him to be so honest. Harry felt the least he could do in return was not begrudge Draco the opportunity to find out what happened to him.

He, Ron and Hermione were no closer to guessing the cause of Draco’s amnesia and he assumed that the reason was both because Draco’s attacker was adept at covering their tracks, or that it was probably someone close to Draco that caused it in the first place, such as Narcissa or Lucius. It could have also been that it was a muggle accident that caused the memory loss, such as being hit by a car or if a mugger had hit him over the head, which would have explained Draco being found without any identification.

What kept coming unbidden to his mind, however, was that Draco somehow caused his own memory loss on purpose. He didn’t know why that idea plagued him, but it was that whisper of doubt that kept him silent while they drank their tea and waited for the fog to fade.

He trusted that Draco meant every word he said to him before and after they had made love the night before, but he didn’t know what would happen if Draco recalled the memories that brought on his memory loss. What if Draco discovered some underlying hatred for him that he had not yet dealt with? What if there was something even more sinister lurking beneath the floorboards of Draco’s memory that was harder to get over than his obsession with taking Hero Harry down a notch?

In truth, he still hadn’t entirely dealt with that fact.

He had preemptively forgiven Draco for his past mistakes, but the very idea that the boy who shared his bed every night had at any point wanted to see him tried unjustly and sent to rot in Azkaban tugged at his heartstrings in a way nothing else ever had. He loved Draco, trusted him… to a point.

It made him feel filthy to think of it, that some part of him didn’t trust his lover, his friend, but it was the truth. Some part of him sat in a dark corner and waited for it all to implode. The issue of Draco’s trustworthiness or lack thereof was a part of it, but most of it merely stemmed from his long history of being let down and pulling the short straw destiny had dealt him. Life for Harry had always been a series of challenges far greater than any teen should have to endure, and then when it was finally over he had to contend with the Ministry and then this.

It was hard for him to imagine an end in sight, and even harder to fathom it being possible that he might one day just be able to live a normal life with Draco at his side.

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Harry’s lack of verbal communication was starting to wear thin on Draco’s nerves. It wasn’t as though he was any better, but still it worried him that Harry had nothing to say of their upcoming trek to the castle.

He still didn’t know what he would find there or even what he was looking for, and that fact unnerved him more than revisiting the site of the war. The castle was mostly rebuilt, but the fissures where giants or trolls or powerful magic blasts had blown away mortar and stone and left gaping wounds in the school walls could still be seen.

It had been one of the hardest things to witness; the destruction of his beloved school. He had spent much of his time there feeling safe and rather indestructible, and it wasn’t until he himself brought in a mass of Death Eaters and he saw the killing blow that Snape had dealt the Headmaster in his sixth year that he realized the school was just as fragile as the people within its walls. Then, as he watched the castle crumble under the weight of the war, his heart began to break.

Voldemort was the root of all his errors and all his troubles.

He had spent his entire life blaming Harry, from the very first story his father told him of the Dark Lord being felled by an infant. He blamed Harry for his father’s troubles with the Ministry when he was young, for the fact that they weren’t exulted celebrities standing at the side of a powerful wizard and instead being scrutinized by those who opposed him. He blamed Harry for being witless and ignorant of magic and pure blood when he came to Hogwarts, and for rejecting his hand and friendship that first day. He blamed Harry for his natural and impressive Quidditch skills that made his own talent seem ordinary by comparison.

But most of all he blamed Harry for having everything he himself wanted; true friends, fame and the ear of powerful witches and wizards all across the world. He had never once contemplated the fact that Harry might be envious of him for the things he took for granted- like having parents. Family was something he always counted on and rarely thought about, having always had it, but Harry would have done much to have a loving set of parents to go to for comfort or advice.

He felt so distant from the Draco he remembered, as if they weren’t the same person at all. As it was, he couldn’t imagine ever holding so much animosity for the kind Gryffindor boy who had taken Draco into his home and gave him so much.

An idea came unbidden to his mind then, and it was a prospect that he couldn’t seem to disregard once it arrived. Harry deserved better than this, he deserved to be able to live without the worry that his lover would at some point hate him. Harry was worth more than his own memory.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said at last, setting his teacup down and flinging a couple Knuts to the table for payment.

“The fog’s still pretty heavy, Draco. Are you sure you’ll be able to find what you need?” he asked.

“I’m not going up to Hogwarts. I’m taking us home and forgetting the whole mess. So what if my memory never returns. Maybe I’ll be happier not knowing what I nearly did to you and who if anyone attacked me for it,” Draco announced, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him from the bench.

“You mean it?” Harry asked, looking confused but a clear glimmer of hope sparkled in his emerald eyes.

“You’re more important than these rubbish memories,” Draco whispered, pulling Harry into a warm kiss and ignoring the look of open disdain he got from a portly man sitting at the counter.

The crooked grin Harry gave him made the decision completely worth it though, and within minutes they were back at Harry’s flat and tearing at each others clothing in a fit to be closer. “I love you,” Harry whispered, and Draco knew he would never tire of hearing it.

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Draco woke groggily and reached to pull his lover to him, but after feeling only rumpled blankets he quickly determined that Harry was no longer in bed with him. He opened his eyes slowly and saw that the room was still dark and Harry was nowhere in sight. There was no light peeking from beneath either the door to the bathroom or to the living room and Draco wondered vaguely where his boyfriend had wandered off.

The thick coating of sleep and post-coital bliss still dulled his senses, but he was eventually able to pry himself out of bed and pad over to the bathroom. He knocked softly and got no answer so he gently pushed the door open only to find the room empty. Grabbing his boxers and trousers from the floor he slipped them on and went into the living room.

Everything was still dark and felt more than looked untouched. The icebox hummed in the background to what Draco now realized was a light sense of fear. He left and crossed the hall, knocking loudly on Lara’s door and tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for a response. When the door finally opened he backed away a step from the entry.

Ron stood there in matching attire -black trousers and bare chest- and scowled down at him. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“Is Harry here?” Draco replied, not letting the towering redhead intimidate him.

“Has he broken up with you already?” Ron teased rudely but Draco only narrowed his eyes.

“He wasn’t in the flat when I woke up,” Draco grumbled. “It’s not like him to just leave without a word.”

“Maybe he’s just feeling restless. He’s an adult, Malfoy, and Harry Potter at that. He can take care of himself,” Ron offered. “He probably just went for a walk and he’ll be back shortly. No need to get all jumpy and ruin everyone else’s sleep.”

“Right,” Draco muttered and walked back to Harry’ flat feeling no less worried than before.

He was only sitting on the sofa for a moment when a soft silvery glow filled the room from a corner by the dining room. A jarring thud sounded from the same spot and Draco rushed over to pull Harry to his feet after the boy had been expelled from the pensieve.

“I was so worried about you,” Draco hissed, pulling Harry against him in a violent hug.

“It wasn’t my intention to worry you. I didn’t think you’d wake up so quickly,” Harry admitted.

“You could have told me you were sneaking off to look at my memories,” Draco chastised with narrowed eyes.

Harry frowned and shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that. They were my memories not yours.”

“So what were you trying to remember?” Draco asked, pulling his lover over to the couch.

“Do you recall the man who was staring at us at the pub today?” Harry asked carefully.

Draco nodded fervently and grimaced as he thought of the man who had barely looked away from them since the moment they had entered the Three Broomsticks. “He was a nasty lard wasn’t he?”

Harry laughed lightly and nodded. “Yes, he was. But more importantly, he was a familiar nasty lard.”

“You know him?” Draco asked, surprised that Harry would ever bother to associate with someone so loathsome that they would do nothing but scowl at a happy couple, gay or otherwise.

“No, but I recognized him from somewhere and hadn’t realized it until a little while ago. Once I did I couldn’t seem to get back to sleep until I confirmed it,” Harry corrected.

“So,” Draco asked, urging Harry to continue.

“Are you sure you want to know? You seemed adamantly against trying to retrieve the final portion of your memory earlier today,” Harry noted with a careful expression.

“Oh, it’s about that?” Draco asked, feeling torn. “I suppose if it’s important you should tell me.”

“He was at the hospital at the same time you were. I rode the lift with him twice, and thought nothing of it, but obviously he’s not a muggle and seeing him at the Three Broomsticks was a little too much of a coincidence.”

It was then that- like recalling a vivid dream- Draco remembered his encounter with the rotund man the day he lost his memory. He’d never seen him before that day, but it was fairly clear that the man Draco had contracted with in the Ministry had sent him to intimidate Draco. He could still feel the man’s fat fingers curled into his robe as he fought to keep his balance in the grungy alleyway.

“Tell us where Potter is,” the man demanded.

“No. I changed my mind. I told Grubner that I was out, find another tool to get Potter out of his hiding place,” Draco spat.

“Mr. Grubner doesn’t take kindly to deal breakers,” the man growled, his fowl stench permeating the air. “He sent me here to change your mind.”

“I’m not going to. Do whatever you like. I won’t betray Potter’s whereabouts,” Draco replied firmly.

“We’ll see about that,” the man growled before launching his fist at Draco’s face.

“Draco!” the man shouted. “Draco, please, get up!”

It took a moment for Draco to realize he was no longer seeing the memory float in front of him like a Prophet article, but instead for some unknown reason he was laying on the floor of Harry’s flat feeling nauseous.

“What happened?” he asked weakly.

“You’re eyes just sort of rolled into the back of your head and then you fell,” Harry replied, his voice thick with panic.

“I remembered,” Draco whispered. “He was the one who beat me and no doubt stole my memory.”

“But why?” Harry asked, his hands balling into fists at his side. Draco could see that he wished there was a chance that the man would still be in the pub so that he could repay him for injuring his boyfriend, even if he hadn’t been his boyfriend at the time. Harry was sweetly protective that way.

“Grubner sent him when I told him to piss off and that I wasn’t going to give away your location,” Draco replied with a smile. He was ecstatic that he had come to his senses about Harry before he lost his memory, even if it had gotten him a royal beating. Unfortunately, though, he still didn’t know the reasoning for his change of heart.

“Grubner?” Harry asked, looking at Draco quizzically.

“He’s the one; he’s the wiry Ministry official I met with. He’s the one who wants you imprisoned,” Draco announced now that the pieces were all coming together.

“That’s brilliant, Draco. I’m sure Hermione can have him indicted for what he did, and we’ll have an easier time finding others connected to his scheme now that we know who the leader is,” Harry noted with a grin.

“That’s true, but more importantly I changed my mind about you before I lost my memory,” Draco replied, pulling Harry down on top of him.

Harry chuckled and nodded, straddling Draco’s waist and placing delicate kisses across the man’s bare chest. “You must have already figured out that you loved me,” he teased and Draco laughed.

“I must have,” he replied, pinching Harry’s bum lightly. “You are fairly irresistible.”

“So I’ve been told,” Harry boasted mockingly, but then his face fell slightly and confusion clouded his green eyes. “Do you know why you changed your mind?” he asked.

“No idea, but does it matter?” Draco replied.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly. “But I’m curious.”

Draco merely shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll come to me the same as everything else has so far. It’s only a matter of time now before I have no more blanks to fill in.”

Authors Note: I know this chapter has been a long time coming, I think I'm mostly over my writers block with it though