Never A Memory

a/n: Here you go, dearies. Only since you asked so nicely. :-)







~A Blood Truth~



verum ipsum factum—“truth itself is constructed”



The next day…

~*~



Slightly, the House Elf that Harry Potter had managed to retrieve from the Malfoy Manor the night before with a letter of confirmation handwritten by Draco, popped into Draco’s bedroom with a resounding crack.



Draco, who was lying in his bed, reading a book of poems, as he did more often than anything else here at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, looked over the rim of his book with an eyebrow raised.



“Master,” Slightly squeaked nervously, wringing her thin hands, “Slightly is here to tell you that a visitor is downstairs, sir. Does Master wish Slightly to send him off?”



“Him?”



“Yes, Master; him.”



His interest piqued, Draco set his book down and stood up. “No, Slightly. I’ll be down straight away.”



“Very good, sir,” Slightly answered and disappeared with another crack.



Knowing that Harry would probably have another row with him for greeting the man without his permission, Draco figured since the man knew how to come into the old house—as it was hidden from anyone who wasn’t, at some point, invited--the threat was minimal at best. Besides, instigating an argument with Harry Potter was fast becoming the highlight of his days while he was cooped up in this old, rickety house.



Slightly was insistently stubborn about only answering to Draco, as she knew him as her master since he was an infant; and no one, house elves included, who lived in Malfoy Manor trusted Harry Potter. Unless, of course, they were forced to, as Draco found he was. Thus, Draco knew Harry was oblivious to the presence of the newcomer and as he quietly went down the stairs and turned the corner, he was surprised to find that he was faintly disappointed to see Ron Weasley standing in the drawing room.



Draco couldn’t put a reason behind his disappointment. Maybe is was because it would have been a tad more exhilarating to Draco’s otherwise most obvious masochistic personality if it had been someone he didn’t recognize and immediately know there would be no misadventure today. Or maybe it was because Weasley was Harry’s best mate, and Draco knew he would have to stand by at watch that true Harry interact with his most trusted friend from afar—as he had always done—and know that it would never be that easy for him to get Harry that open.



Of course, Draco didn’t want to think about that, or where that line of thought might lead. Four years ago, Draco Malfoy had given up any thought of Harry to overtly incredulous fascination with the enigma that was The Boy Who Lived. Yet, it was so much more effortless to dispel thoughts and daydreams of Harry Potter when he was locked up in a hut in the middle of Asia with a brick bag of other things to fill up his mind with. Now, Draco couldn’t get that man out of his head. Draco was realizing that he could feel his feelings, dream his dreams, and would be thrown into the most sour of moods anytime Harry was, no matter where the noble prick was.



And, of course, there was the ever present tension between them. Draco knew he felt it too and knew that was what caused each other to remain on opposite sides of the house whenever possible, afraid of what that tension could possibly mean.



Ron turned when Draco cleared his throat and the red-haired Auror managed a strangled smile.



“Oi, Malfoy,” Ron said, regaining a little composure. “Harry here?”



Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek, wanted to say something civil, but the words wouldn’t formulate in his head. “He’s upstairs,” Draco murmured finally. “I’ll get him for you.”



“Thank you,” Ron said, looking strangely at the Malfoy heir. “Malfoy?” Ron called out before Draco disappeared down the hall.



Draco turned back to the young Auror. “Yes?”



“Do you think he’s vexed at me?”



A smile hovered around Draco’s lips for the barest of moments before he caught himself and pressed his lips into a straight line, denying the smile to take shape. “I would never call myself an expert on all things Potter and his emotions,” Draco said dully before allowing his voice to lighten a little. “But if I had to guess, I’d say no.”



A relieved smile broke across Ron’s face like sunlight through a storm and Draco nearly gagged. Draco turned back into the hall and made his way up the stairs. Slipping into the study unnoticed, Draco spotted Harry coming down the ladder that lay against a tall bookshelf, his face screwed up in concentration as he read a vellum scroll older than the two of them combined.



Draco snuck up behind him and plucked the scroll from Harry’s hands.



“Hey—Malfoy, have you gone mad?” Harry asked, lunging for the parchment. “Careful with that!”



Lifting it above his head and steadily backing out of Harry’s reach, Draco tried to read the small scrawl across the old paper. “Genealogies?” Draco said with a laugh. “What on Earth are you doing in here, Potter?”



Harry scowled and lunged again. “Give it here, Malfoy!”



Draco suddenly backed into Harry’s desk exactly when Harry made another lung for the scroll and ended up pinned between the desk and Harry’s body. They froze; Draco’s arm still holding the parchment above his head and Harry practically hanging off of Draco like a suit jacket.



Draco looked up at Harry, surprised to note that Harry was actually taller than him, and became mesmerized by the shaken, deer in headlights look Harry was favoring him with. Harry blinked and tried to will his limbs to get the hell off of Draco, but they wouldn’t listen. Harry could feel the heave and fall of Draco’s chest and the heat emanating from his body. Harry hadn’t even realized he was cold.



Draco tried to shift but only managed to press his leg between Harry’s, earning an eloquent, “Fuck”, from his Hogwarts rival, and he froze again, suddenly sick with the fact that he had no plan of action for this particular scenario. The blood quickened in Draco’s veins and his heart beat faster and when he was quite certain he was going to act rashly and completely regret it later, he spoke.



“The Weasel’s in the drawing room.”



Harry sucked in a breath, the spell surrounding them suddenly shattered. “Wha-what?”



“Ron Weasley,” Draco said, trying, but failing, to keep the tremor out of his voice, “is downstairs waiting for you.”



Harry immediately pushed off of Draco and backed away. They stared at one another for almost a minute, no words forthcoming, until Harry ran a hand through his hair and all but bolted from the room.



When he could breathe again, Draco looked down at the tent in his pants and scowled. “Of all the fucking people on this godforsaken planet…”



~*~



A somewhat flustered and distracted Harry, with his robes wrapped strangely around him, met Ron in the drawing room.



“Ron, what are you doing here?”



Ron’s cheerful greeting died on his lips. “Well,” Ron said, nervous again. “’Mione’s working late so I figured I’d stop by and see how things are going at the old HQ, mate.”



Harry frowned. “You could have owled first.”



Ron drew his brows together. “Malfoy’s a right git, you know that?” Ron muttered. “Telling me you weren’t still vexed and all.”



Harry’s eyes darkened murderously. “He came down to see you without telling me first?”



Ron laughed nervously. “I suppose so. Are you cold?”



“What? No. Why?”



Ron pointed at Harry, raising a brow at how he was huddled in his robes.



Harry shook his head. “Trust me on this one, Ron. You don’t want to know.”



Bewildered, Ron shrugged. “Right, then. How unbearable is he?”



“Malfoy?”



“Who else?”



Harry let loose a short, awkward bark of laughter.



“That bad, huh?”



“Worse.”



Ron fiddled with the hem of his robe. “Well, do you need anything?”



Harry regarded him strangely. “No. I got Malfoy one of his house elves yesterday. She’s no Kreacher, but she’s still pretty stubborn. It’s brilliant, though; we won’t have to worry about food or sneezing up dust for a while.”



“Hermione would have a fit,” Ron said with a smile.



Harry grinned, suddenly feeling better. “You tell her, mate, and I’ll skin you alive.”



~*~



Draco finished skimming the parchment he’d stolen from Harry minutes before and set it down for a small journal Harry was writing notes in. He pursed his lips and held a lit candle closer to make out Harry’s small writing.



‘Found further evidence on breaks in the pureblood lines; facts overlooked probably because of societal status. The Parkinson’s had mentioned certain gravity towards Blood Traitors. Note to research usual punishments for such “crimes”.’



More notes told of Harry’s endless attempts at retracing Draco’s own footsteps regarding bloodlines and Draco briefly read them through before turning to the paragraph concerning the Parkinson’s.



Draco knew Harry was no idiot, even if he had struggled with a few subjects at Hogwarts, and was not surprised that Harry would devote so much energy to this particular line of research to unravel the key to Draco’s death warrant. If Harry only knew how close he was, he would have probably voided Draco’s case by know. Really, all this was futile in the end.



However, what made Draco’s blood boil was his suspicion that Harry may be endangering the Parkinson’s with his research on Draco’s behalf.



Faintly, Draco registered the sound of the front door opening and closing and Draco hurried to find more notes about the Parkinson family. Soon, he stumbled on a passage in the journal depicting a certain visit he had made to the Parkinson Manor, with specific questions about Narcissa Malfoy’s funeral and Draco’s actions there within.



Draco snapped the journal shut and raised stormy gray eyes to meet Harry’s agitated green ones when the young Auror walked back into the study.



“I know you’re not stupid, Malfoy,” Harry bit out immediately. “Why do you insist on proving me wrong by meeting a stranger at the door? Do you want to die?”



“Stay away from the Parkinson’s,” Draco said in a low, dangerous voice.



“Excuse me?”



“Stay away from the Parkinson’s,” Draco repeated. “You’ll only make it worse for them if you drag them into this.”



“I didn’t drag them into anything,” Harry snapped irritably. “They’re repaying a debt.”



“I said no, Potter,” Draco growled.



“Don’t you fucking start, you goddamn prick,” Harry said heatedly. “You were shacked up in Wisconsin, sucking on your thumb and trying to remember your name when I was out here trying to figure out some truth about purebloods and how you could possibly rub them the wrong way. It’s not as fucking easy as it looks—“



“You want to know some truth about purebloods, Potter?” Draco asked quietly, suddenly stalking towards Harry with quick strides. Harry barely had time to blink before Draco reeled back his arm and slammed his fist into Harry’s jaw.



Harry’s head snapped back and immediately his magic charged up around him. Harry automatically reacted by burying his fist into Draco’s gut. Draco grunted and jabbed his elbow into Harry’s face. With a shout, Harry swung hard; trying to land a punch to the side of Draco’s face, but Draco grabbed the flying wrist and stepped inside the swing, pressing his lips against Harry’s.



Harry’s eyes grew wide as saucers as Draco moved his mouth over his bleeding lips and when Harry began to relax against the kiss, Draco bit down on Harry’s lower lip and forced his tongue into Harry’s warm mouth.



Harry immediately pushed his tongue against Draco’s, no stranger to the old song and dance, as their tongues dueled for the upper hand. Finally, a low groan escaping from Draco’s throat, and he tipped his head back as Harry grabbed his shirt and held on as he began to dominate the kiss.



Suddenly, Draco’s tongue stepped outside the dance, sought, and found the cut his fist had caused on Harry’s lower lip. Caressing it lovingly with his tongue, Draco tasted the sweet tang of Harry’s blood before roughly sinking his teeth into it. Harry gasped and Draco pulled back, pressing his lips to the small cut once more before moving away.



Draco stared into Harry’s eyes as he slowly released his wrist. In answer, Harry released his death grip on Draco’s shirt. A little off balance, Draco stumbled back, his eyes never leaving Harry’s.



Harry watched, breathing heavily, as Draco raised his fingers to his lips and wiped off the blood that remained there. Draco gazed at his red tinted fingertips for a moment before raising his stormy eyes back up to meet Harry’s.



“Our blood tastes exactly the same,” Draco whispered. “It looks the same, runs just as thickly, colors dirt the very same way, and even smells the same.”



Draco paused, watching Harry digest this information. “That is the truth about purebloods.”



Minutes passed before either of them said anything.



“You could have told me that without kissing me,” Harry said finally.



Draco offered the cruelest smile he could muster. “But then you would have never known how much you enjoyed kissing me back.”



Draco moved past him towards the door. “And that may be a Harry Potter truth,” Draco said before leaving the study.



Harry stood in the middle of the room, stunned out of his mind, and raised his fingers to his mouth, gathering a few droplets of blood. Harry rubbed the blood between his fingers thoughtfully before he had an overwhelming urge to laugh.



Instead, he managed a quiet, maniacal chuckle.



“Fuck me,” Harry whispered. Draco Malfoy was right.



He did enjoy kissing him back.



A blood truth, indeed.



~*~



a/n: Mwahahaha.



Graballz: Aww, thank you. I want to start getting into Harry's head a little now too, to see what's going on in there. Can you imagine how frustrated and overwhelmed he must be? Ha! I love torturing my darlings. Thanx for the review!



Smokey: Thank you!



Thrnbrooke: Thank you!



Wizli: I luuuurv long reviews. OK, let's see: Well, thank you! Draco can't help but be sexy no matter how deep or shallow a fanfic writer makes him, lol, but he's so much better when he's complex. Ha ha, I thought it would be a cute moment, the whole food thing. Glad you liked it. White picket fence? Hell no. Maybe a cozy kitchen. ...Maybe. Grimmauld Place fascinates me. It really does. And I think I actually get a kick out of writing out "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place" because I do it so often, lol. And we are going to hear much more about the Black's in the future!



Thanx for your review!



Chavela25: This chapter was actually for you babe. I laughed so hard when I read "Where is TEH smut!" I'm like, alright, alright, already. I suppose I could squeeze in a kiss. Hope you liked it. Thanx for your reviews!



Tia: Thank you!



Zypher: You ***ch! Why didn't you tell me that the pic you sent me was from some play called Equus that HE ACTUALLY GETS NEKKID IN! I completely assumed it was digital and it was some other guy's wang pasted on him. o_0! I swear, I'm always the last to know. ALWAYS! Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed the chapter (even though YOU don't deserve it, you secret keeping !*^*&^$%^) and thank you for your review! :-P



Bigkt: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed the update!



Bena24: Thank you!



a/n: You guys rock! Thanx for reading!