Never A Memory

Chapter Two

~The Tell-Tale Scar~





The next day...

***



If there was anyone who took their job more seriously than Harry, it was Hermione Granger.



As they usually did, Harry and Ron found Hermione on the fifth level of the Ministry of Magic Headquarters, where the Division for Muggle Affairs was now located, juggling a stack of vellum books with one hand while using her wand to levitate a pile of paperwork with the other. She was flushed, hurried, and determined to get to whatever destination she was headed when they stopped her.



Ron automatically stepped forward and relieved Hermione of her staggering heap of books, glancing at the title of the topmost. "History of Western Civilizations and the Rise of the Industrial Age" it read and Ron had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Muggle Affairs was actually fairly new to the Ministry, even though Hermione often worked closely with his father, Arthur Weasley, and his partner division of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Hermione, being a stickler for facts, insisted that at least half her division study and research Muggles, their history, and the way their world worked in order for the Wizarding community to better understand them. Apparently, seeing London crumble while only patches of the barrier that separated the Wizarding world and the Muggle's dissipate struck a nerve in Hermione. She won the rights to Muggle Affairs when the Ministry began struggling in finding all the Muggles that witnessed the Eve Battle and obliviating them and completely repairing, without traces of suspicious magic, all damage done to the city. What was even more interesting, was how the Prime Minister and the Minister of Magic had simultaneously agreed to opening a discreet division that researched, day and night, ways to make sure what happened during the Eve Battle never happened again.



And while that security has yet to be created, Hermione made it clear that the ignorance of both worlds to one another, even if it were on a discreet level, was working to both their communities’ disadvantage.



Ron thought that her vehemence towards the situation may have more to do with her protectiveness towards her parents than Hermione would like to admit. Still, Ron had grown up with a father who was fascinated with Muggles, fell in love with a woman who had Muggle parents, and still didn't understand a damn thing about the non-magical world. And asked if he cared, Ron would probably shrug while his eyes said definitely not.



"Thank you, Ron," Hermione said with a faint smile and running her hand distractedly through her hair. "But I'm terribly busy today and I think I may have to cancel our lunch. Oh, hello Harry."



Harry smiled genuinely at her while Ron's face fell slack. Ron had been looking forward to spending time with Hermione. It seemed that they rarely got to the past few weeks due to both their incredibly busy schedules. And while Ron felt he solidified their relationship when Hermione accepted his proposal, he still felt the incessant need to be around her all the time. Ron hoped that feeling never went away.



Quickly gathering himself, Ron offered a grin. "We actually need your help with something."



"Yeah?" Hermione asked, looking between the two. "With what?"



Ron looked over at Harry and then back at Hermione, taking a deep breath. "We need to stash Malfoy with Muggles because he lost his memory and we think he would be safer outside the Wizarding world and we could really use the extra man power and he lost his memory so it might work," Ron said, each word stumbling over the other.



Hermione let out a startled laugh but immediately sobered. "You're serious."



Harry nodded.



"Oh no," Hermione breathed. "No, no, no...we finally got the Muggles here under control...we can't send a Muggle-hating wizard out to them. It would never work. And we ARE talking about "Draco" Malfoy, right?"



"Yes, but he doesn't *know* he's a wizard, 'Mione," Ron insisted. "He doesn't even know his own name."



Hermione shook her head. "Even so, a wizard is a wizard. He has power, even if he may not remember how to use it right away. To send an amnesiac wizard out amongst Muggles isn't only foolish, it's dangerous. Malfoy will remember how to use his powers before he'll remember that he has them."



"We'll have an Auror on him twenty-four seven," Harry said quietly.



Hermione turned to Harry and then reared back her head. "Harry," she breathed. "Don't tell me this was your idea! If this is some kind of sick way to get back at Malfoy for Hogwarts--"



"It was McGonagall and Snape's idea," Harry interrupted, his voice still quiet.



Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. Then she shook her head again. "It's a bad idea, Harry."



Ron stepped forward but Harry put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Your opinion is duly noted," Harry said as gently as he could. "But we're not here for your opinion; we're here for your help."



Ron shot a despairing look Harry's way. Hermione stared hard at Harry but eventually sighed. Harry never spoke to her, or any of his friends, that way unless Harry was ultimately thinking twenty miles faster than them and was committed to whatever he'd set his mind to. Back at Hogwarts, it usually concerned Voldemorte. Now, it was Draco Malfoy that had Harry on edge.



Hermione glanced once at Harry's forehead, where his tell-tale scar once was, a scar that now rested on Draco Malfoy's head, and nodded. "All right. Follow me."



***



"...Yes, I understand," Hermione said into her wand--where, on the other end of the communication, Lisa Murkwood of St. Mary's Hospital and Rehabilitation Center, chatted amiably into a telephone. "Absolutely. I agree. His name?"



Hermione glanced over at Ron and Harry, who were seated across from her desk in her office at Muggle Affairs. "...His name is...Smith. John Smith."



Ron snorted, Harry curled his lip in a cruel smile, and Hermione threw them both an exasperated look.



"Yes, yes, of course," Hermione continued. "I'm sorry? Oh, he'll be arriving this afternoon. Will do. Thank you, Mrs. Murkwood. Of course. Okay...o...okay Mrs. Murkwood. Mmhmm. OK, goodbye. Yes, yes, goodbye." Hermione restrained the urge to throw her wand across the room and placed it, with over-controlled severity, on her desk. Looking up at the two Aurors seated across from her, Hermione breathed in deeply and let it out slowly.



"John Smith?" Ron asked with a snarky grin. "What the hell kind of Muggle nonsense name--"



"Ronald!" Hermione snapped and gave him *that* look.



Ron quieted immediately.



"So..." Harry inquired.



Hermione ran a hand through her curls and sat back into her chair. "Mrs. Murkwood said that a patient of...Malfoy's nature, would be best served first in the Psychiatric Ward of the hospital, where he would learn to write down his dreams and memories and be taught fundamental basics...and then in the rehabilitation program, where they would eventually set him up with his own apartment and assign him a Social Worker."



"A what?"



"A Social Worker. Someone to check in on him every once in a while."



Harry nodded. "Good. That should buy us plenty of time..."



"There's a catch, Harry," Hermione said.



Harry raised his dark eyebrows questioningly.



"I set him up in a hospital in the US."



Silence greeted her revelation.



***



Harry and Ron, having completed the task of Obliviating the Healers who had watched over Draco Malfoy during his stay at St. Mungo's--after, of course, convincing them to sign waivers giving their permission--entered the room Draco was staying at. If there was anything more uncomfortable to Harry than escorting an amnesiac Draco Malfoy to a Muggle Psychiatric Ward, it was escorting him to an American Psychiatric Ward.



Harry knew next to nothing about the American Wizarding world--they didn't even play Quidditch--and even less about American Muggles. Harry wondered if this was Hermione's way of getting back at him for the way he pressured her into helping them even if Hermione had explained that she would not endanger the fragile stability she had established in the English Wizarding world over the last few years off of a whim Harry and her fiancée seemed so eager to go along with. So, Hermione had arranged for 'John Smith' to have a Social Security number, perfect alias Draco would learn about during his stay at St. Mary's, and American Citizenship.



Ron had insisted that it was poetic justice that Malfoy was to be stashed in an American Muggle loony bin. And as much as Harry wanted to concede the point, a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach wouldn't let him. Harry had to admit, however, that it was the perfect cover up for Draco Malfoy. When--and if--Draco regained his memory, he may even come to grudgingly agree. Not that what Draco Malfoy thought or felt was anything to Harry Potter.



Amid white sheets and countless pillows on the tiny twin-sized bed, Draco Malfoy lay propped up and dozing. He woke instantly and stared silently back at the two Aurors. His eyes flashed silver when they recognized Ron as the red-haired man who had come to see him the day before, but they turned a slate grey when they took in Harry.



Draco blinked, then winced, and his hand came up to his forehead where wisps of white-blond hair covered the lightening-bolt scar that once was Harry's.



Harry frowned and felt a pull in his mind, like a hazy fog was trying to intercept his thoughts. Harry shook his head and glared at Draco. Draco's eyes widened a fraction and he looked away, lowering his hand.



Ron tossed some folded clothes onto Draco's bed. "You have five minutes to get dressed."



Draco looked back up immediately. "Where am I going?"



"You're being transferred," Ron said and turned to leave.



Harry, immobile beside him, continued to glare at Draco. Draco flicked his grey eyes to Harry's face, answering his stare for an icy one of his own.



Ron grasped Harry's arm. "Five minutes," Ron repeated forcefully, more for Harry's benefit than Draco's.



Harry finally looked away and followed Ron outside the room.



Ron glanced sidelong at his partner and best mate. "You okay?"



"I'm fine."



Ron raised an auburn brow. "You didn't look fine in there," Ron said, jabbing his thumb behind him at the closed door.



"I'm fine," Harry repeated.



Minutes later, the two young Aurors heard a rap on the door. "I'm ready," called Draco's voice from inside.



Ron opened the door and stepped aside to let Draco through. Draco emerged from the hospital room with a somewhat dazed look on his face, sharp grey eyes taking in everything.



"This way," Ron said, walking toward the exit. Draco followed and Harry took up the rear, looking at anything except the back of Draco's head.



***



Once Apparating the three of them to the entrance of St. Mary's, Harry and Ron paused to let Draco catch his breath. Draco seemed shocked at the revelation of Apparition...however, Draco felt more vertigo and the nagging sense of déjà vu than anything else. Shaking his head to clear it, Draco nodded to his two chaperones and Harry and Ron walked him to the front doors.



Draco paused again before Ron went to open the door and looked back at Harry, who, up to this point, had trailed behind Draco on their journey. Harry returned his stare and was slightly unnerved to see Draco Malfoy's face when it wasn't twisted in a malicious sneer. He seemed inquisitive; some simple question hovering behind his slate eyes.



"I dreamed of you," Draco said finally. "I remember you hated me in my dreams too."



Harry frowned and immediately looked over at Ron, who was staring at them with unmasked shock...and a bit of residual dismay. Ron had hoped they would get the Malfoy git here without an incident.



When Harry finally looked back at Draco, whose eyes never left his face, he had his wand out. Draco looked at the wand and frowned, feeling the disconcerting pull of déjà vu all over again. When he looked back up into the dark-haired young man's face, he felt himself grow dizzy with confusion and tried to shake his head clear again.



"No," Harry whispered. "You didn't. Obliviate!"



***



Lisa Murkwood looked up and smiled toothily when the three...rather nice looking young men approached the front desk.



The red-head smiled easily and proffered a file of documents. She took the file and began flipping through the pages. Mrs. Murkwood smiled again and called for a nurse.



"Ah, yes. Mr. Smith. I can take it from here gentlemen."



***







a/n: Lissagal99: Thank you. I'm posting them as I write them; however, my goal is to write one a day. Glad you like the fic thus far :)