Discovering Love and Lost Memories

After several more inane questions from the Minister and the Order Members, Draco had been led back to his cell, with the promise that he would be given some time to rest before someone came to take him for the tests they had planned. Though Harry Potter had supposedly insisted he had no idea whose children Draco was carrying, the Minister of Magic had decided not to dismiss Draco’s claims until a test was done to prove Draco’s pregnancy was or was not caused by Harry Potter.



Draco had agreed to the testing. Really, he had no choice. If he didn’t agree to the tests, he would look suspicious, and the Ministry’s people might decide he was a liar and should be punished further. But he didn’t have anything to hide. Harry really was the father of Draco’s children. Not that that made the blond any more comfortable with the idea of strangers poking at his pregnant belly.



He was again lying on the small uncomfortable bed, now made slightly more comfortable by a quick spell from Tonk’s wand. In the past, Draco would have expected that sort of treatment from people of a lower status then the Malfoy family. However, now that he was alone in the world, he had thanked his cousin. It was a short and soft thank you, but it was more then anyone else had gotten before.



He turned on his left side, finding himself faced with the slightly dirty wall. He frowned, wishing he had his wand to clean this place up a bit. Of course, his wand was now in the hands of the Ministry, so that wouldn’t be possible. What little he knew of wandless magic wouldn’t help him now anyways.



So he slowly flipped himself to his right side, and stared at the sink on the other side of the room. It was leaking, and the slow drip, drip, drip, eventually lulled him into a memory-filled sleep.



-xxXxx-



He was in the dungeons, his long blond hair knotted and matted to his head where his sweat had been, and had dried. Beside him on the disgustingly dirty cot lay his mate, the brunette Gryffindor God. He smiled dispite the pain he felt in his broken arm. His father may have thought that would be enough to break him, but Lucius could not yet even imagine the truth.



Draco knew. He could feel the small pulse of life within his magical womb. His Veela side was awakened, and new life was started within him. How long could he hide it? How long before he had to tell his father – or until his father found out. As soon as it came to light that Draco was mated with Potter, his father would at least guess, if not know, the truth.



He pushed aside those thoughts and moved into the protective warmth of the other man. Harry didn’t know yet, but he would soon. Draco couldn’t hide this from him. Of course, Harry would insist on protecting his mate, but what could he do? They were both in a deseprate situation now. Harry was just as helpless as Draco was.



He placed his face against Harry’s chest, feeling his heartbeat and smelling the sharp scent of his unwashed mate.



---



Harry pressed his lips against Draco’s for a quick moment, his hand splayed across the blond’s still flat stomach.



“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He said.



Draco nodded, unable to speak, though a tear rolled down his face before disappearing into the long filthy hair.



---



Months later, Draco still sat alone in the dirty cell in the depths of Voldemort’s current hideout, a Mansion in France.



He was even dirtier then before. His father, knowing his son’s obsession with looking good and cleanliness, had used that as a form of torture. Draco hated his hair now, and had even considered cutting it off when he was momentarily left alone with one of his father’s favorite torture knives. Instead he tied it back with a strip of cloth from his shirt.



Harry had been gone for over four months. There was no way he had just been held up, as Draco had insisted on telling himself. Voldemort’s hideout hadn’t moved either, and Draco had been sure to tell Harry exactly where they had been held before he escaped.



Surely his mate wouldn’t leave him there, knowing Draco was pregnant with his twins. Harry wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t like him. So maybe something had happened to him? Maybe Draco’s father had caught him? But Lucius was not known for his ability not to brag about something like that. It would be so tempting to tell his pregnant, helpless son that his Hero, his Mate, was dead by his father’s hand.



Harry had told Draco to stay here and wait for him. He had told him it would be too dangerous for Draco to try escaping in his current state. But Draco couldn’t wait anymore.



He held off until later that evening, waiting until his father took him from the dungeons to the torture room, which was on an upper level. Draco was quiet as he sent out his magic, feeling for that place where the wards on the Mansion were weak as they went into the next floor above. He pretended to be broken; pretended there was nothing left for him. Then, as he felt it, he turned and fired all his magic from his hands in the most desperate attempt at wandless magic he had ever tried. It worked, in a way. His father staggered backwards, blinking at young man in surprise as the wand he had kept from his son for months flew from his pocket and back into the hands of its rightful owner.



He gathered his wits quickly, scowled, and fired Sectumsempra at his son. The curse hit its mark, causing a painful scream to be wrenched from his son. Draco glared at his father, while struggling to stay upright.



“I’ll never forgive you father. Never. Stay away from me and my family.”



And with that, Draco Malfoy apperated away to the only place he knew to go.



-xxXxx-



Harry lay down in his bed later that night, still pondering why he felt the need to rush to Draco Malfoy’s side and protect him. He still hadn’t quite figured out why Draco Malfoy was even pregnant. Nothing he could think of would explain it. He had gone through all the books that made any sense to look in in the library. He had asked Hermione, but she told him that it would be better if he spoke to Draco himself about it.



Something had to be going on that he didn’t know about. Hermione usually would love to theorize about what was going on. And Ginny would usually be a lot more interested in helping Harry however he needed. He had expected her to help him read through the books, but instead she suggested that they go out, weed the garden, play Quiddich, visit Hogwarts, or have sex – in that order. And Ron wasn’t anywhere to be found whenever Harry thought of something to ask him that a wizarding family might know about.



So Harry had made plans to see the one person who could help him answer some questions. Severus Snape couldn’t be that bad anymore, could he? He’d find out in the morning anyhow.



He settled onto his comfortable bed, and wondered for a moment where Ginny was. Usually she would come to bed with him, seeing as how she had been trying to convice Harry that they should be a couple. For the past few nights though, she had been finding somewhere else to sleep. That was weird too.



He rolled onto his stomach, hugging his pillow, and wondered if his dreams would be the same as they were the night before.



-xxXxx-



He wandered the hallways of the Mansion he had thought Voldemort’s current hideout was in. Though covered by his invisability cloak, he wondered if he had been in his right mind when he had thought to venture in alone, without backup.



He had yet to see anyone, though the place did feel inhabited. He finally came upon a room with the door open, where to his momentary surprise he saw Draco Malfoy sitting on a window seat reading a book. ‘Why shouldn’t he be at Voldemort’s headquarters?’ he asked himself.



The chair nearest Harry had a death eater cloak casually draped over it, with the mask laying face up in the seat. Harry assumed it was Draco’s.



The blond's eyes looked up from his book towards the doorway. He casually tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and regarded the doorway calmly, though curiously. He was sure he had felt someone come in. Someone whose presence sent a tingle of something down his spine. Anticipation? Longing? He wasn’t sure. He raised his eyebrows to himself and went back to reading.



Harry turned and left the room containing the Malfoy heir. He was after a bigger fish just now. Several minutes later, he found what was probably the grand ballroom, but was now transformed into a sort of throneroom for Voldemort. The Dark Lord lounged on his large chair, holding a mirror up to his head, gazing into it and stroking the top of his head slowly.



The invisable brunette almost giggled from the thoughts that flowed through his head just then. He imagined, from the way the pale bald man stroked his head, that Voldemort had a sudden hankering for some hair. ‘Perhaps though,’ he thought, ‘Voldemort should get a proper nose before he tries for hair.’



Lucuis swept in from another entrance, and Voldemort hid his mirror quickly. It wouldn’t do for the Dark Lord to appear insecure about his own looks.



“My Lord, our wards have been breached. The magical signature feels like that of Harry Potter.”



“Potter!” Voldemort snarled, his eyes glowing for a moment. Then he calmed himself, smiling thoughtfully. “He does seem to turn up at the most interesting times.”



Voldemort’s eyes scanned the room, before coming to rest where a shimmer of magic could barely be seen. “Ah, and he joins us.”



With a wave of Voldemort’s hand and a burst of power, the invisability cloak sailed off Harry and flew across the room.



“Welcome, young Harry. What brings you to my humble abode?”



“Just checking on the accomidations, Voldie.” Harry replied, smiling a bit at his own cheekyness.



“Ah, well perhaps you’d like to stay a while? I have a lovely room set up for visitors such as you in the dungeons.”



---



Harry was locked in the dungeons with a wicked headache, having come to there after Voldemort sent a blasting curse at him that had knocked him out. The cell was disgusting, not that Harry had expected anything different.



---



Draco, who was supposed to be watching the Wizarding World’s Potential Savior, had opened the cell door for the aformentioned boy and told him to get out. Harry had gotten caught again, though, and now watched as Draco was whipped and beaten for insubordiantion.



The blond had insisted that he didn’t know why he opened the door and let Harry escape. He admitted to doing it of his own free will, and there was no trace of any sort of Imperius spell on him to suggest Harry had controlled him somehow. He took his beating quietly, as if he felt he deserved it. Truth be told, he was more upset that Harry had not gotten away then he was that he had failed his father.



---



Harry made love to Draco. At this point he knew he was dreaming, and he struggled to wake up, thinking that what he was doing, and what he was seeing, was wrong. Even though it felt true, and right.



---



Harry held his mate, knowing that was what Draco was to him now. He remembered the mating, and that Draco was pregnant with his children, twins. He remembered promising to come back for his mate after he escaped and found help. He had swore to the blond that nothing would keep them apart ever again. He would be back, and they would be together, and safe.



---



He had escaped Voldemort’s stronghold, but not without severe damage to himself. He lay between life and death for about a week, hearing voices around him. Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Dumbledore; they all were there.



He struggled to the surface of his mind, trying to get the words out. He had to get back to Draco. He had already been away too long. What if Lucius killed Draco, or the babies, because of Harry’s escape? He had to find a way to say something to his friends to get Draco help.



He opened his eyes, opened his mouth. He tried to say Draco’s name, but it came out as a strangled noise. They all surrounded his bed, and after some water, he gasped out the story of his confinement, his mating, and his need to save Draco before harm could befall him again.



His friends and mentor exchanged worried glances at first. Then Ginny, who had disappeared for a moment, offered him some more water. He made a face at the odd taste, and fell into a drugged sleep.



He could still hear them around him.



“He can’t be serious?! Malfoy!?” Ron’s voice sounded.



“Can’t let him remember. He’ll go back to Voldemort’s hideout to save Malfoy.” Ginny said.



“It’s too dangerous.” Hermione agreed.



“…give him a potion? Wipe his memory?” Ginny continued.



“We’ll do what’s best for Harry.” The Headmaster agreed.



-xxXxx-



Harry sat up, covered in a cold sweat. He glanced to the bed beside him, and saw that Ginny had finally joined him in bed. He shook her awake, a little harder then he had intended.



“What’s BEST for me, Ginny? You guys did what’s BEST for me, by wiping my memories of the time I spent with Draco in Voldemort’s dungeons?!”



Her eyes were wide. “We were afraid for you Harry. We didn’t think that you were in your right mind. Malfoy was your enemy all through those years in school! Not to mention we couldn’t understand what we saw in your memories when we used Dumbledore’s pensive. You were never like that before! Never!”



“You didn’t do it for me, Ginny. I can see it now.” Harry’s voice was quiet. Deadly, almost. “You wanted me for yourself. You hoped that I would never remember anything. You were the one to suggest methods to remove my memories. It was your idea. Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore were wrong too, but you gave them the idea.”



He got out of the bed, and stood nearby as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants. “I want you out of my room, Ginny. Gather your things. Just be out before I come back.”



With that said, he left his bedroom at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, leaving Ginny alone to do as he had asked.