Never A Memory

a/n: *punches air* Thanx to my reviewers, this story hit 100 reviews today! Cool huh? Thanx guys!







~Bad Faith~



“’Bad faith’ (from French, mauvaise foi) is a philosophical concept first coined by existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sarte to describe the phenomenon wherein one denies one’s total freedom, instead choosing to behave as an inert object. It is closely related to the concept of self-deception and Friedrich Nietzsche’s concept of ressentiment.”



The next day…

~*~



Draco Malfoy found himself wandering the house aimlessly, finding that the old Black residence was a lot larger than it seemed. Harry, of course, knew this and made it his first priority to hide himself within the bowels of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Draco wasn’t even sure where Harry slept. Yesterday, Draco had found a crumpled blanket on a couch in one of the sitting rooms. Today, no trace was forthcoming of Harry’s whereabouts the night before and it was almost as if he had disappeared completely.



Draco was almost certain he was still in the house, however, because Hedwig, Harry’s owl, was perched outside on the front porch every time Draco glanced through the window.



Draco paused to observe an antique mirror. The two different shapes of the reflective glass were spotted with age and wear and the gilded frame was detailed and rotting. Draco frowned, knowing that, with a little restorative care, this mirror would be quite the expensive piece. Draco fully doubted that Harry knew how much wealth this house held underneath the layers of dust and moth beds.



Draco leaned forward and blew gently against the dust covering the reflective glass and stared at his own image as the dust cloud dissipated around him. The despair he had been trying to stuff behind his courtly smiles seemed to instantly resurface the second he looked into his own eyes…His father eyes.



Draco often avoided his reflection for this very reason. He had always known, from the second he had decided to rebel against his family creed and become as unlike his father as possible, he would inevitably see Lucius Malfoy every time he passed a reflective window or a dusty, gilded mirror. That the ghost of his father would hover disapprovingly behind his own gray eyes and the sad lines of his mother’s mouth would always be etched behind his smiles.



Briefly, Draco closed his eyes and thought of that rainy day his mother was buried in hollowed ground. His father had not even bothered to come and yet Voldemort made a point of making an appearance to remind Draco that the he, The Dark Lord, would always have the upper hand. That he could take anything he wanted from those who followed him and everything else from those who didn’t.



And what did Draco Malfoy have?



Nothing.



Growing up with riches only made it less glamorous, growing accustomed to the finest circles of society only made it less charming, and heaps of gold only proved to burn his eyes with its brightness and cause him to turn away.



His friends were loathsome, backstabbing followers of an image he fought to uphold, his relatives expected a creation from him, not a person, and after all of this, Draco Malfoy had become the very thing he’d run from since he turned thirteen, secretly withdrawing from it in his mind until there was nothing left of him but an empty shell.



The worst possible kind of faith. A Malfoy through and through.



And then Voldemort, the vilest hypocrite to walk this earth, took the only person who saw behind Draco’s mask from him. Of course, Narcissa, his mother, was not exactly the sweetest kind of mother. She was as cruel as they came and supported his father in every endeavor. Narcissa had been silver-tongued and manipulative, using her pale, secret beauty to charm the guileless and cause the strongest men and women to resort to eating out of her hand by the time she was finished with them.



Draco smiled and saw his mother’s smile in his reflection.



Narcissa Malfoy had been no sugar cookie. Yet, she had loved her son, in her own way. It was betimes cruel and sometimes downright malicious, the way their relationship panned out, but Draco never doubted his mother’s love. Never had a reason to second guess her intentions when it came to him. And Narcissa was never fooled by Draco’s attempts to imitate his father or the downright petty attempts to torment Harry Potter and his friends.



Draco watched as the tight lines around his mouth and eyes softened when he thought about Harry-infuriatingly-noble-Potter. Ever since their first year, Draco lied to everyone except himself about the reasons he tormented Harry so. Draco knew that, at the very core, Harry Potter was everything he wanted to—and could never—be. It wasn’t, even in the slightest, that Draco wanted to be the honest, chivalrous, messy-haired hero Harry was naturally born as; it was the freedom Harry had. When Harry Potter was angry, he could be, and he rested safely in the self-righteous knowledge that Harry Potter was Harry Potter and whatever he felt or did or said was whatever Harry Potter felt or did or said. That was freedom as Draco saw it. To be able to live as your own person, outside of the image others set for him, and have friends who knew and understood and was infinitely patient with the true person underneath the hero, behind the mask of The-Boy-Who-Lived.



That luxury was never Draco’s to have, and he had always been green with jealousy because of it. So, at every opportunity, Draco would make a point of crawling under Harry’s skin, just to see that fiery, proud, and shaken boy that hid beneath Harry Potter’s noble reputation. It pleased Draco to see the true Harry, even if he had to force it out of him with cruel words and a sarcastic smile.



And truly, Harry Potter drove him mad.



Harry irritated and angered Draco to no end when he tried to deny the Slytherin in him and very vocally dismiss the Slytherin House as evil, nothing more than a breeding nest for Death Eaters and Dark Wizards. So, when Harry had always lashed back at him at Hogwarts, this anger had boiled up in him and made him a tad crueler than he had originally intended. After all, it was what everyone—Harry Potter included—expected of him, right? To be a relentless, sneaky, evil tormentor of everything pure and righteous, right?



Draco snorted and straightened, turning away from the mirror.



Severus Snape, his own godfather, didn’t even understand him. Most of the time, Draco Malfoy didn’t even understand himself. He knew, however, that this limbo he found himself in had to be worse than the inner circles of hell. What Harry-oh-so-concerned-Potter didn’t understand was that this warrant, this rally call for Draco’s assassination was not made by a single wizard.



Draco had been banished at Narcissa Malfoy’s funeral and while he resided in Britain, whether among Muggles, in a hidden house, or otherwise, his life was forfeit. This was more than a Death Eater’s revenge for Draco’s actions against Voldemort; this was a Pureblood Society’s way of flushing out a Blood Traitor who made his sins more severe by killing Lord Voldemort and actively saving a Half-blood—Harry Potter.



Draco’s wandering steps took him back towards the front of the house and he found himself standing in the kitchen. Listening to his empty stomach churn, Draco sighed and went about making lunch with whatever he could find in the sparse kitchen. Three years alone in a hut in the middle-of-nowhere China had taught him a few lessons about fixing decent meals out of nothing for himself.



Draco Malfoy frowned, cursing silently, for the thousandth time since yesterday, whatever the hell that had saved him from his own suicidal Killing Curse that night of the Eve Battle. Because he was still alive, and because of whatever stroke of sadistic genius landed Harry Potter the job of protecting him, Draco Malfoy had once again managed to put those he cared about in grave danger.



Maybe if he played his hand well, Draco could manage not to cause the death of those dear to him this time. Draco was never all that profound at playing with fire, but maybe being connected Harry Potter through the Horcrux Scar was making him brave.



Or maybe it was making him reckless.



Time would tell, Draco supposed.



~*~



Harry, who was found in the study, had his head buried in a mountain of paperwork, scribbling notes madly on to a blank sheet of parchment, his quill bent and as tired as Harry looked.



Draco quietly set the plate of food on top of his paperwork, forcing Harry to straighten and look up. Harry had not even heard Draco come in.



“What’s this?” Harry asked, eyeing the plate of butter pasta, chicken, and peas.



Draco raised a bemused brow. “Most cultures call it food.”



Harry stared incredulously at Draco, tossing his head to the side to dispel a stray lock of jet-black hair from his eyes. “I didn’t know you could cook.”



Draco frowned and bent to take the plate away.



“No!” Harry said immediately, grabbing the plate covetously. “I didn’t mean…well…What’s in it?”



“Arsenic,” Draco replied, stone-faced.



Harry looked back at his food, his face saying he had half a mind to believe him.



Draco sighed and, with a roll of his eyes, grabbed the plate; but Harry still had a firm hold on it and they locked eyes.



“I was joking, you dolt,” Draco hissed. “Tell me, why would I kill you know?”



Harry looked back at the plate and laughed out loud when his stomach grumbled noisily, the tension between them dissipating in a flash. “Alright, I’ll eat it.”



Draco strolled over to a bookshelf and selected a book. Opening it to the first page, Draco found a chair near the fireplace, sat down, and began to read. When he was sure Harry wasn’t looking, Draco lifted his gray eyes over the rim of the book and watched Harry eat, a secret smile curving his lips.



Harry was reading a document lifted up with one hand and shoveling food into his mouth with the other, tossing his head every now and again to get a stray tendril of hair out of his green eyes. His mouth glistened with butter from the pasta and Draco found himself mesmerized by it, watching carefully as Harry deftly used his tongue to pull in stray strands of noodle into his mouth.



Harry glanced over at Draco when he was finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and their eyes met. Harry seemed frozen as he tried to read the hungry look in Draco’s cold, gray eyes. Finally, Harry shook himself and managed a glare.



“Why are you staring at me?’



Draco shrugged and looked back at his book. “A cook is always pleased to see his creation his appreciated.”



Harry gaped at him, trying to fathom what Draco could possibly mean by that. “Have you gone completely mental, Malfoy?”



“Pardon?”



“One minute, you’re the Slytherin prick you always were and, the next, I don’t recognize you at all. I mean, what’s with making me lunch?”



“Which do you prefer?” Draco asked, turning the page. “And you were hungry.”



“Damn it, Malfoy, look at me,” Harry said heatedly, annoyed that Draco was pretending to read.



“I thought you didn’t want me to,” Draco said, lifting his eyes once again. For an instant, Draco thought he saw a shadow of his mother’s cruelty looking back at him through Harry brilliant green eyes and Draco shut his eyes against it. When he re-opened them, it was gone as quickly as it came and there was nothing but Potter’s own cruelty staring back at him.



Slowly, the intensity faded from Harry’s emerald orbs. “I don’t know what I want from you,” Harry said finally.



“But you want something,” Draco said, lowering the book and closing it. “Answers, perhaps?”



Something shifted in Harry’s demeanor and Draco knew he was holding back.



“I suppose I could rightfully assume you have quite the torrent of questions swimming around in that head of yours,” Draco continued, the intensity in his gray eyes flaring.



Harry nodded. “You’ll tell me what I need to know when you’re ready.”



“That’s awfully compassionate of you.”



“Doesn’t happen often in your world, does it?”



“I don’t have a world, Potter,” Draco answered softly. “That’s what is wrong with me.”



Harry did not know what to say to that so he continued to look back at Draco and tried to understand the young man in his study compared to the boy from Hogwarts.



“Did you enjoy your pasta?” Draco asked finally with a secret smile.



“I did.”



“Good,” Draco said, standing to his feet, “because that’s the last of it. We need a House Elf, Potter. I’m not going to cook for you every day and this place is filthy.”



Harry mock-glared at Draco and was surprised when Draco flashed a brilliant smile in return before leaving the study, his book in hand.



Harry stared at the door Draco just vacated and thought that, perhaps, these next few weeks might just be bearable.



~*~





a/n: Strange little chapter, but was neccessary for what's to come. Bare with me, guys.



Graballz: Well, I really couldn't jump into the whole 'hugging scene' with them yet, but I had Draco make him lunch. Satisfied? Thanx for your review!



Jih Pun: Thank you! Ha ha, it's a comin', it's a comin'. It is going to be worth the wait, trust me. And it may just be next chapter...we'll see...must listen to muses... Thanx for your review!



Wizli: I gave you a bunch of material with this chapter to start guessing with, lol. I liked your choice of words in your review: cracking, angrily, explosion...these are the best words to describe what is going to happen between Harry and Draco. And, you know, I loved that paragraph too. I saw this clear image of him by that fireplace and it ended up in the chapter, man. How cool. Thanx for your review!



Airagorn Charda: lol, here ya go. Hope you enjoyed. Thanx so much for your review!



Thrnbrooke: And the mystery thickens...duhn, duhn, duhn. Trust me, you'll get Draco the second Harry does. *grins* And, well, yeah, Harry had a crappy day. Thanx for your review!



Zypher: My dearest darling, I am overwhelmed with happiness that my story picks you up when you are down. How empowering it is to empower others! LOL, anyhoo, nah, I need to keep them around 2k per chapter for flow. If I stop pacing myself the story would go bonkers and it would turn to complete crap. I'll just have to update faster. No pressure, right? Thanx for your review!



Ecks: Thank you!



Orbiting Jupiter: WOW, thank you very much! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanx for your review!