Never A Memory

a/n: I am so sorry I haven't been able to update! I tried last night, I swear!; but I fell asleep at the computer table so it didn't quite...work out. I made this chapter extra long, I hope it makes up for the wait! I have a goal to get another one out tonight, we'll see. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!



Deliverence Dane was a woman who was examined in Andover, Maryland for the Salem Witch Trials in 1692. Her information can be found in "The Salem Witchcraft papers" written in 1977 by Boyer and Nissenbaum. This really has no concrete importance to the story except that I fell in love with her name and used it in this chapter and wanted to cite where I got it from in case anyone was interested.



Enjoy.











~Behind Door Number Two~



"An[if] it harm none, do what you will." ~Wiccan Rede



The next morning…

~*~



Draco blinked, his eyes focusing suddenly, and looked around him. He found himself standing before the window of his bedroom, still in his bed wear, his sock-less feet chilled and pressed into the carpet, and staring at Pan, his Eagle Owl, who was perched on a branch outside the window, gazing shrewdly back at the Malfoy heir.



Draco stepped back, trying to remember how he had gotten there and nearly panicked, thinking, for a split second, that he had forgotten everything all over again.



However, no, Draco recognized his owl and his surroundings, knowing that the infinitely stubborn Harry Potter was sleeping chastely down the hall in his study, and Draco must have sleep walked over the window.



Draco shivered, abruptly registering the tingling sensation between his shoulder blades and tried to shake it off. Strangely, Draco knew he had dreamed as the heaviness of it hung around him still; and yet, he could not re-formulize the dream in his mind.



Draco took in a deep breath, scowled cynically at Pan, who bemusedly tilted his regal head to one side, and turned to gather his robe. Tying the sash around his narrow waist and slipping on some slippers, Draco made his way down the hall and into the study.



Draco felt the corners of his mouth lift into a decidedly affectionate half-smile as he found Harry sleeping behind his desk, curled in a chair, and his head to one side, causing his thick, messy black hair to fall into his sleeping eyes and brush lovingly against his proud cheeks. Draco caught himself and let the smile dissipate before unraveling the sash of his robe so he could slip out of it and use it as a makeshift blanket to cover the sleeping Boy Who Lived.



Taking a seat across the desk, Draco stared out the far window and watched the sun rise as he waited for Harry to wake. Draco frowned as the dawn erupted over the horizon in fiery reds and golds, preferring a quiet, pale dawn to a riot of color any day. As Draco stubbornly squinted at the rays of fire brightening the eastern sky he thought of the day before and how, despite the day’s events, Harry had ended up sleeping once again his study.



While Draco wouldn’t call it discomfort, the feeling permeating the space between them by the time they had their morning meal, it was definitely distant…and not entirely Harry’s doing either.



Their infrequent conversations had been forcefully light and Draco found himself wanting to roam the house instead of pestering Harry as he had done when they first arrived at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry continued to research in his study, his attack of conscience throwing him back into his work full force, probably to keep his mind off of what they had done.



And while Draco was almost certain Harry had had his fair share of meaningless relationships, they both knew it would never be so between them. If they tried, they would fail.



The two of them were connected by ancient magic, and the sexual tension swimming densely in the air between them constantly certainly did not help.



After yesterday, they both new they could—and probably would—fight the growing attraction, physical and certainly emotional as well, between them, and for each of them, very different reasons would spur their rebellion.



Draco assumed it was Harry’s aggravatingly golden honor that would stay his hand when it came to him. For Draco’s part, as much as touching Harry made him feel alive like nothing else, Draco could not stomach the immediate vulnerability he felt bared as Harry’s intense green eyes stripped him of every barrier he had spent years building around himself.



Whatever frightened thing quivered beneath the stifling layers Draco had wrapped around his soul, it would take more than even the best intentions from the noble Harry Potter for him to trust anyone with the defenseless side of Draco Malfoy.



Because Draco Malfoy has never trusted anyone; ever.



When Harry stirred and slowly opened his eyes, Draco glanced over at him with a perfect, pureblood smirk.



“I cannot possibly be expected to believe that that chair is more comfortable than my bed,” Draco drawled.



Harry looked down at Draco’s robe that covered him and a small smile graced his lips. “How incredibly sweet of you, Malfoy,” Harry remarked, almost cynically…but not quite.



“Oxymoronic,” Draco said with a shake of his head. “Malfoy’s are never sweet.”



Harry stretched languidly before placing his elbows on his desk and rubbing the palms of his hands into his groggy eyes. “You’re up awfully early.”



Draco shrugged even though Harry wasn't looking. “Couldn’t sleep.”



Harry glanced up. “Why?”



Draco eyes seemed to frost before they returned to their normal shade of slate grey. “No idea, Potter. Perhaps it had something to do with the incessantly cold sheets.”



Harry rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. Harry was almost grateful that Draco’s attempt to treat what was evolving between them with humor, knowing that it could be ever-so-serious if they weren’t careful.



“Really, Potter,” Draco continued. “Even if your insufferable honor dictates that you maintain a measure of professionalism with me, I know for a fact that my room isn’t the only one with a bed. Why do you insist on sleeping in the study?”



“So talkative this morning, Malfoy,” Harry muttered, shutting his eyes briefly and trying to ignore the question. Sirius Black, his deceased godfather and dead for trying to protect him once upon a time, used to sit at this very desk.



Harry shivered, as the recurring thought he constantly battled whispered through his mind. Those who attempted to protect Harry Potter, usually died while doing so.



Even Draco. Once.



“Don’t try to change the subject,” Draco said with a frown. “Why?”



When Harry re-opened his eyes, the pained expression behind them caught Draco off guard.



“I have my own flat in London, near the Ministry,” Harry murmured. “I rarely come here. There are too many ghosts…and I don’t like the way some of the wings make me feel.”



“How do they make you feel?” Draco inquired softly after a loaded pause.



Harry looked to the left and stared off into something Draco couldn’t see. “It’s like an echo of everything I hate…everything I fought once and everything I could become if I chose it.”



Draco was quiet for nearly a minute, mulling this over in his mind. That Draco could understand as well. Malfoy Manor had lineages of ghosts that kept watchful eyes on their descendants, making certain that their sons and daughters did not fail in continuing their line. Draco had despised going home on holiday during his time at Hogwarts, knowing for certain that the eyes of his ancestors saw right through his wretched, deceiving soul and were cursing him to infinity and back.



Draco was also aware of the effect sharing a Horcrux with Voldemort must have tormented Harry Potter. Draco had watched from afar at Hogwarts as their connection had driven Harry to darker moods and extreme fits of temper in their sixth year. It must have terrified the Gryffindor Golden Boy to know that it would be so easy, too easy, in fact, to just surrender to the scar and become another Dark Lord; one infinitely more powerful and extreme than the one they already had to contend with.



“I thought I would have taken that from you when I took your scar,” Draco said finally, knowing all too well what it was to fight the faceless darkness within. “The Horcrux was the only thing connecting you to Voldemort.”



Harry looked back at Draco then, his dense green eyes haunted. “Voldemort’s aren’t born, Malfoy. They’re made. He was Tom Riddle once.”



Draco didn’t respond right away, trying to swallow the thought that the monster that had murdered his mother had been human once. “You’re nothing like him, Potter,” Draco grated, abruptly leaning forward in his chair, his eyes bright and intense, flashing silver like lightning. “If nothing else, remember that you CHOSE Gryffindor. You chose. These ghosts have nothing on the power of choice.”



Harry peered back at Draco, trying to read the message those gray eyes were trying to send him. Harry saw the shift, the nameless urgency behind those piercing gray eyes, as if there was a message there for the both of them…a message even Draco couldn’t decipher. A secret hidden inside the Malfoy heir. Maybe it was the scar that whispered behind Draco’s eyes.



Suddenly, the silver faded back to gray and Draco sat back. “You did choose,” Draco repeated in a softer tone. “As I did…I…, nevermind.”



“What?”



“Nothing.”



“Malfoy, tell me.”



“It’s nothing. When are you going to sleep with me?”



Harry let out a startled laugh before his eyes went dark with a scowl. “This is not your harem, Malfoy.”



“No,” Draco said solemnly, his snark back in full swing. “But it’ll do.”



“You’re such a fucking prick, Malfoy,” Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I cannot believe I almost shagged your snobby arse.”



Draco produced the most seductive smile Harry had ever seen. “’Almost’ is something to be remedied, isn’t it?”



“No, Malfoy.”



“I wouldn’t be so terrible, would I?”



“You’re a virgin.”



“Something else to be rememdied,” Draco replied with a grin. “And sweeter the victory for you.”



“No, Malfoy.”



Draco chuckled. “I wonder if masochism is a common Gryffindor trait.”



“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped.



“Your problem,” Draco murmured as he stood to his feet and gathered his robe, “is that you know you’ll enjoy it too much.”



Harry stared hard at Malfoy, glad that the desk was between them…though, all things considered, it may not be enough if Draco kept looking at him that way.



“I will not be another tool for you to defy your lineage, Malfoy,” Harry said in a low voice. “Your rebellion is your own.”



That cruel smile that set Harry’s blood on fire curved Draco’s regal mouth. “Regardless of my game, Potter, the fact remains. You want it too.”



Harry closed his eyes against that smile that made the ghosts of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place shriek like banshees through his mind, and when he opened them, Draco Malfoy was gone.



“So, seduce me,” Harry whispered to the cold, empty space Draco Malfoy left behind.



However…Harry was quite certain he already did.



~*~



In Wisconsin…

***



“Hello, Mister Deans,” a Betty called out from the Receptionist’s desk in front of Dr. Laeverton’s Office. Deans paused in his steady stroll towards the Doc’s office to smile pleasantly at the plump woman and her bleached and teased out hair.



“Mary,” Deans greeted. “How are you?”



“Could be better, of course, if I wasn’t here,” Mary responded with a flirtation grin that Deans had to fight to not grimace at. Her bright red lipstick was smeared all over the front of her teeth.



“Oh?” Deans inquired, leaning against her desk. “When do you get off?”



The Betty giggled shrilly and tried to cross her legs gracefully; and failing, of course. “In ten minutes or so.”



“Fantastic,” Deans said with a charming smile. “Go doll yourself up while I drop off something for the Doc and I’ll take you to coffee; how does that sound?”



Mary’s eyes widened a fraction and nearly fell over herself trying to find her bag and standing up. “That sounds wonderful! I’ll be right back!”



Deans’s smile instantly disappeared when the Betty turned the corner and he felt his lip curl. When a woman, Muggle or otherwise, said she was going to be right back, it instantly gave the man a window of about thirty minutes.



Deans turned back to the office. He had plenty of time.



Inside the Doc’s office, whose usual retainer had been home sick for the past few days on a mysterious bout of influenza he had contracted—from the American Aurors, no doubt, Deans thought, to give a reasonable amount of time to clean up the mess the British had left behind—Deans turned in a circle, his eyes searching for the document.



Frowning slightly, Deans retrieved the wand he always kept hidden within his sleeve. It wasn’t his, of course. His wand had been broken by Headmistress Deliverence Dane of Seqouia School of American Wizardry and Witchcraft when he had inadvertantly caused the death of another student from Salamen House. The wand he held was the deceased boy’s wand, kept with him to remind him of his greatest sin and to, of course, enable him to use magic in secret as a he lived as a Muggle.



“Accio journal,” Deans muttered and immediately John Smith’s notebook—the accurate one—floated up from beneath a pile of papers. Deans tucked the wand safely back into his sleeve and walked briskly from the office, the notebook clutched securely in his hand.



Outside St. Mary’s, the mysterious man who had contracted Deans’…skills…some four to five months ago waited patiently under the shadows of a large oak tree. Deans handed him the notebook and watched as the man’s bright blue eyes gleamed covetously at the sight of it.



Then the man handed him a briefcase and Deans checked it for the owed money. Satisfied, Deans closed the briefcase and straightened to watch the man slowly walk away from him.



“When are you going to tell me your name?” Deans called after him.



“Never,” the man said over his shoulder, his voice low and undistinct.



“I’ll need to have something to call you,” Deans pressed, leaning against the tree. “What if I am questioned?”



The man paused and turned back to Deans, a slow, malicious smile stretching the glamour that distourted his actual features. “Then call me The Gatherer.”



~*~



Back at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place…

***



Harry shifted in the chair, trying and failing to find a comfortable spot so he could fall back to sleep. The remainder of the day had been uneventful and Draco had left him alone. The desired effect, however, was not what Harry had wanted. Harry had found himself bothered and distracted, glancing up every half a minute, expecting Draco to come sauntering back into his study but he never came.



Eventually, Harry became tired and settled in for the night. He had slept a few hours but had woken abruptly in the witching hours of the night and unable to fall back asleep.



Of course, his mind was fixated on Draco and Harry was too tired to try and think of something else.



Annoyed, Harry shifted again before throwing off the blanket he had wrapped around himself and stood up.



Harry supposed it wouldn’t hurt to go check on the Malfoy heir and made his way down the hall. Harry paused before Draco’s bedroom door, a battle raging in his mind, before grasping the handle and opening the door.



Harry frowned when he saw Draco’s rigid form standing directly in front of the window, the front of his body and his tilted face pale with the moonlight that streamed through the window.



“Malfoy?” Harry called out but Draco didn’t move.



Harry went and stood in front of him, his blood suddenly cold as he gazed down into Draco’s wide open eyes. His gray irises had all but disappeared and his pupils were black and empty. Harry felt his skin prickle with goosebumps as he stared down into the abyss of Draco’s eyes, knowing that the void led somewhere Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to go.



Harry grasped Draco’s shoulders and shook him. “Malfoy, snap out of it!”



Draco still did not respond and Harry began to worry. “Draco!”



Draco blinked and his pupils shrank to a normal size. Suddenly, Draco shook himself and peered at Harry, confused.



“What?”



Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Do you always sleepwalk?”



Draco, beginning to shiver, laughed softly. “Not that I can remember; at least, not before I came here.”



“Huh.” Harry placed a hand on the small of Draco’s back and led him to the bed. “Are you cold?”



Draco slid beneath the covers and pressed his cheek into a pillow. “I don’t think so.”



“Then why are you shaking?” Harry asked, standing by the bed still.



“I don’t know.”



Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before turning towards the door.



“Potter?”



Harry turned back and Draco gazed up at him, the quivering in his limbs belying the confidence and strength in his gray eyes.



“Stay,” Draco murmured and held the sheets back in invitation.



Harry considered for a moment before moving forward and lying next to the Malfoy heir. Harry stared at the ceiling as Draco shivered beside him for half a moment before turning his face to Draco’s. Draco stared back at him, a simple question behind that perfect grey.



Harry slid his arm beneath Draco’s waist and pulled the shivering Malfoy towards him, wrapping him in a protective, warm embrace and running his fingers soothingly through Draco’s white hair. Slowly, Draco’s shivering subsided and he was lulled to sleep by the comforting touch in his hair.



Soon, as Harry became accustomed to Draco’s forehead pressed into his cheek and a third leg resting comfortably between his, Harry felt his eyes droop; his last thought remembering how much better it felt to fall asleep in someone’s embrace...and in a bed.



~*~







a/n:



Thrnbrooke: So true, babe. Here we go! Thanx for your review!



Graballz: I laughed through the entirety of your review! Nike poster boys?! Ha! Now that is funny. I can see it now. See? Now I'm laughing all over again! Thank you for saying it was inspirational, that was really touching.



Now, Dark Lords may be made, but Sex Gods are definitely born. Draco Malfoy is a sex god no matter what state of his virgintiy. All it took was a look and he got Harry in bed with him again. C'mon, man, it's Draco! Of course, it wouldn't be too realistic or good for storytelling if I insinuated that Draco mastered the act of sex...when? You know what I mean? Good news is that Harry can teach him...



Thank you for the great review! I hope you enjoyed the update!



Addy: Thank you for your review! Yup, they sure are.



Obsidian Phoenix: Thank you so much for your review! I hope you enjoyed the update!



Kittycat30: Ha! I had another battle with the muses on this one too, but, of course the muses won out. I would probably save time if I just listened to your advice, lol. Thanx for your review!



Zypher: It is completely cruel for you to put "horse power" and "doctor mom" in my head while I am writing a HP/DM fic. CRUEL! If horses and cough syrup shows up in this story I hope everyone reading this will know why! It's HER fault dammit! Lol, thanx for your review!



Jan: Ha ha! I'm glad you enjoyed it. No, their arguments only get really bad a few times from now. Of course, they will always have their rows, but they'll usually be light and funny as they begin to understand one another better. Thanx for your review!



HellishMind: Thank you! I hope this chapter answered your question. Deans has a bigger part to play yet, but, no, Harry does get jealous but not over Deans. But that's skipping ahead way too many chapters, lol. Thanx for your review!



AlexKim: Thank you for your review! I hope you enjoyed the update!



P.S. That last chapter was hardly kinky. Just a teensy but o' well deserved smut. When/if it gets kinky, you'll definitely know. ;-P



Tia: Thank you very much! Actually, I have a grand total of three songs by them that I added to the playlist I listen to while writing this fic and the only other artist who has the same amount of songs on there is Jem. I love the band and I love their music. And while I couldn't say they're my favorite, they're definietly up there, lol. I hope you enjoyed the update! Thanx again.



Snakevamp: Thank you very much! It was a neccessary evil, I think, what Draco did. I woulda wrote it sooner or later, lol. Thanx for your review and I hope you enjoyed the update!



Harlequin: Three hours straight? WOW! Thank you! I...um...wow, that compliment kinda staggered me for a sec. Thank you!



Airagorn Charda: Don't worry, babe, it's happened to the best of us, lol. YES! That was my favorite part too! *does happy dance* He sure the hell is the queen of Sarcasm! Ha! I was waiting for someone else to get a kickout of that part, man. It was so incredibly Draco Malfoy. Thanx for your review and I hope you enjoyed the update! Remember to scroll down ;-P



HPDMkawii: Thank you for your review!



Rione Mcloon: I e-mailed my response to you but did not recieve a reply. Did you get it? In either case, thank you for your review!



Cinque: lol, yeah no kidding. Thank you for your review and I hope you enjoyed the update.



Zypher: E-mail me privately at shinigami_liason_nefie@yahoo.com



Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys rock!