Never A Memory

A/N: Hey all! A reviewer said something about Harry having a Hero Complex. Yes! Yes, he does. At the end of the day, he's got to save it. And so, this chapter was most definitely inspired by that review. You'll see, lol. Thank you and enjoy!



"I still have my soul. It's mine; all mine." ~Bruce Cambell; Bubba Ho-tep

"Parting is such sweet sorrow." ~William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

"You will stand at the crossroads and choose; and choose again." ~Kushiel's Dart


~A Crossroads~
Sunrise...

The Hero Complex. Harry Potter had it in spades.

Draco Malfoy felt his lip curl as he kept his gaze fixed on the back of his secret lover's unruly head. Four Aurors surrounded him as they walked steadily through the maze of the Ministry of Magic, garnering obtrusive and blatant stares from all directions. Harry and his partner Ronald Weasley led the five of them through the winding halls, neither daring to sneak a glance behind them. Draco could tell Harry was tense by the set of his shoulders and the stiffness of his determined march.

A magicked airplane flew directly into Ron Weasley's hand and, after reading its contents, turned his head in to whisper in Harry's ear. Draco's immediate pang of jealousy was muted by his surprise when they abruptly changed direction and headed for the Minister's own office. Draco had assumed he would be held in some sort of interrogation room. The Aurors had already confiscated his wand. Their steps were brisk and purposeful; but, even so, Draco was slightly amazed at how calm he felt. He felt as though he were walking in a dream, that everything was some surreal passage of time that had him fixed at its center even though he imagined he was outside of it all and looking in.

"If I take you straight to the Ministry with this crazy story about you turning into the most evil creature mankind has ever known," Harry had said so precious few hours ago, "you might just disappear within the Ministry and some story about you breaking your neck in Asia will show up in the Daily Prophet.”

By rights, Draco knew he should be terrified. He had that much sense. Strange, though, that he wasn't.

Darkness stirred inside of him like a prodded snake.

Perhaps not.

They paused at the Minister's door before being admitted. Draco stopped himself from rolling his eyes when he spotted Hermione Granger standing beside the Minister's desk, wringing her hands. Of course, the blasted Gryffindor triumvirate that he personally tormented all those years at Hogwarts would all be present at the downfall of Draco Malfoy. His godfather, Severus Snape stood at the other end of the Minister's desk; and behind him was Blaise Zabini. Draco had spotted him before they had Apparated outside of the Ministry but had not been permitted to speak to him. Draco sent a bland glare in his direction and Blaise returned his gaze calmly. Something strange flickered behind Blaise's golden eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had come and Draco was unable to name it. The coiled snake inside of him stirred but remained quiet.

The Minister himself was perched comfortably on the corner of his desk, his hands a relaxed pile on his leg. His expression was pleasant and gave nothing away. And Draco knew, he *knew*, his godfather had already told him. He didn't know how, but he knew.

And Harry did too. Even if he tried to conceal his emotions, Harry was terrible at it and wore everything on his sleeve Including that damned Hero Complex.

The four Aurors flanked around Draco, creating a human cage of sorts and Harry and Ron went to stand by Hermione, though Harry seemed as though he would like to be elsewhere. Draco almost smiled. It was endearing, to see him so uncomfortable on Draco's behalf.

Ah, well.

Nearly a full minute passed before anything happened. It seemed everyone was waiting on Minister Scrimgeour to speak.

"I'd like to apologize, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic," Scrimgeour said finally, "for this whole sordid mess. The Aurors assigned to your case were too young and inexperienced to handle this...unforeseeable turn of events and that was my mistake."

"Oh, nonsense, Minister," Draco said with a polite smile and a courtly flick of his wrist. "Potter's been nothing but professional, strong, brave, and true. Weasley as well, I'm sure--"

"Draco," Harry breathed, startled.

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Draco replied with a wry smile. "You know I don't mean a word of it."

A private grin flashed across Harry's lips and he ducked his head to hide it; but not before Hermione saw it and frowned.

Scrimgeour looked between Draco and Harry and pursed his lips. Then he stood and clasped his hands behind his back. Pacing, Scrimgeour sighed. "And what to do now?"

To that, Draco said nothing.

"Granger and Professor Snape tell me there is a potion they can brew that can keep this...this Tulpa inside of you at bay for a time," Scrimgeour went on to say. The Minister paused and looked hard at Draco. "You do realize you cannot leave our..." Scrimgeour searched for the word. "...'protection' until we've dealt with this thoroughly?"

Protection. Right. The snake inside of him raised its head and hissed; the darkness lurched.

Draco nodded.

"So." Scrimgeour looked around the room, his gaze resting finally on Harry; who was now so tense he could not even look the Minister in the face. "Draco Malfoy, I am very sorry. With all you have done for the Wizarding World, it depresses me that we have to treat you thus in order to take the necessary precautions. However..." Scrimgeour pulled his hands from behind his back and steepled his fingers in front of him, pausing to look Draco squarely in the eyes. He was a brave man, in his own way. Draco had to give him that. "You will be given quarters in Azkaban until we have all this sorted."

Draco almost laughed. He was just there a few hours ago, burning his father's body outside the island in the Dementor's Circle.

"Minister!" Harry shouted. The Aurors surrounding Draco tensed. Draco saw Severus and Blaise exchange a startled glance out of the corner of his eye. Hermione Granger continued to ring her hands. And Ronald Weasley, smarter than Draco ever gave him credit for, eyed Harry warily and unobtrusively prepared to draw his wand.

Hero Complex be damned.

Scrimgeour raised his hand, demanding silence. "I cannot allow such a danger to roam free."

"You can't send him to AZKABAN!" Harry retorted.

"I can and I will." Scrimgeour replied calmly; though, Draco saw sadness in his beady eyes. "Take him away." Scrimgeour turned away. Draco felt obligated to burn holes in the man's back, but he wasn't angry; not really.

Four pairs of hands grabbed Draco roughly.

"Minister!" Harry shouted, his eyes full of fear. It was then that Draco remembered Harry had watched Dementors suck the soul from his father's body in Azkaban. Draco wondered if that would be his fate as well. It would be a sure fire way to rid the world of Maul the Black Tulpa. The Dementor's Kiss. Draco shuddered.

Burning magical chains handcuffed Draco's wrists and shackled his ankles.

"Minister, may I speak to you alone?!" Harry cried, quickly losing his cool.

Four pairs of hands began to drag Draco from the room.

"Minister!" Harry seemed trapped, debating whether to pursue the Minister or the Aurors taking Draco away. "May I speak with you alone?!"

Scrimgeour remained as he was, silent and unmoving.

Three quick strides and Harry was struggling through the four Aurors that surrounded Draco. "Potter!" one said gruffly. "Don't make me hex you!" Draco saw that Weasley had drawn his wand, but continued to watch carefully. Draco envied that trust. Harry's eyes were wild when Draco met his gaze. Draco smiled gently. "No, Harry."

"I will not let them take you to Azkaban!" Harry hissed, struggling.

"Then don't," Draco replied calmly. "But not this way."

Harry shut his eyes briefly. What he thought in those few moments, Draco never knew. But then Harry backed away with his hands raised, looking abruptly calm and collected. "Alright," Harry murmured. "Alright."

Then the door was shut in Draco's face and he was led away.

~*~

Immediately, Snape, Zabini, and Harry began speaking at once, protesting Draco's imprisonment. Scrimgeour, looking suddenly old and tired, walked slowly behind his desk and sat down, resting his head in his hands.

"He is a Hero of the Wizarding World," Snape said, hiding his panic beneath his surly disposition. "This decision was ill-advised, Minister."

"A Hero who is possessed by a great evil and tortured a man with dark magic before killing him with an Unforgivable--quite illegal--Curse," came Scrimgeour's muffled response.

"That man was Maul's Gatherer," Blaise reminded him.

"Nevertheless."

Whatever Harry was saying--which was much of the same--he stopped and looked towards Hermione and Ron. Ron exchanged a glance with his fiancée and then looked back at Harry. Harry tilted his head to one side and Ron shrugged. The two of them had learned long before how to speak without words.

"I know how to get it out of him."

Everything seemed to stop when the words spilled from Harry's mouth. Harry took a deep breath. "I will tell you if you will reconsider."

Scrimgeour lifted his head. "I'm listening."

Harry glanced at Hermione. "Maximus Cure."

Scrimgeour's eyes drifted to one corner as he tried to place the name. "I'm sorry, I don't..." Scrimgeour's eyes widened. "Oh."

"The Inversion Echantratem. We know that it won't kill Malfoy because he's survived it already."

"Minister, I wouldn't have a clue how to make it," Hermione interjected with an apologetic glance Harry's way.

"Unfortunately," Snape drawled. "Neither would I."

"So we need Cure." Scrimgeour shook his head. "Magical borders are closed. We would have no way of retrieving this man."

Blaise spoke up at that. "Minister, I can take care of that."

Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"If you allow that to go unanswered," Blaise replied smoothly, "you can claim plausible deniability."

Minutes passed as Scrimgeour mulled this over and Harry's heart raced in anticipation. Finally, Scrimgeour scribbled a note on a scrap of paper, charmed it into a flying paper plane, and sent it out the door.

"Draco Malfoy will reside in Cell Block C--"

"Minister--"

"--until Granger and Professor Snape have the potion to hold Maul quiet," Scrimgeour finished. The Minister looked up at Harry, a gentle smile in his eyes. "Then he can have my quarters here at the Ministry, provided he does not leave and a guard of no less than four Aurors remain posted."

Harry released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you, Minister."

"You have one month," Scrimgeour continued, his voice hardening. "Thirty days and no more. If you haven't found a way to destroy this thing once you get it out of him by then, I will send him to Azkaban indefinitely. Have I made myself clear?"

Harry swallowed. The Dementor's Kiss. "Transparently, sir."

"Minister," Blaise murmured.

Scrimgeour nodded and Blaise swept from the office, robes billowing and all the self-importance only a Pureblood could muster.

Severus and Hermione spoke briefly to the Minister about the potion--which they called Markaghirelle--and claimed it should be ready within thirty-six hours. Then, they too, were dismissed.

Ron and Harry lingered behind and when the door shut behind their old Potions Master, Scrimgeour let out a dry laugh. "Yes, you are still assigned to the Malfoy Case. Get out of my office."

Relieved, they obliged.

~*~

An Auror afore Draco snatched a paper plane from the air. Again, their party abruptly changed direction; and when Draco realized they were headed back within the Ministry, he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Between the bobbing heads of his guards, Draco spotted Blaise Zabini walking briskly past them. Time seemed to freeze when they made eye contact and Draco felt cold all over. Blaise did not slow his pace or give any other sign of acknowledgement but Draco turned in a full circle as Blaise walked by, trying to keep him in sight.

Again, four pairs of hands grabbed him and the chains binding his wrists and feet burned fiercely. Draco did not struggle and soon they arrived at their destination.

It was, quite literally, a cage.

A perfect square of magicked bars, impenetrable from the inside and out; ten feet long, ten feet wide, and ten feet high. Surrounding the cage was an equally square room and Draco jumped slightly when the large iron door shut behind them and was bolted. The Auror who had received the charmed paper plane waved his wand and one wall of bars sunk noisily into the ground. Then, the Auror removed the chains binding his wrists and ankles. Taking his cue, Draco stepped inside and the wall was replaced.

Draco turned in a circle and watched, mildly interested, as a small cot appeared, then a sink, and finally a urinal. Draco raised his eyes to his four-man guard, who stood on each side of the cell, gazing impersonally back at him. One was fair, with gentle brown eyes and a haunted look about him that suggested he had seen things too ghostly to ever be surprised by anything. Another, the Auror with the charmed paper plane, whom Draco assumed was the leader of sorts, was gruff and heavy-handed, with a head of balding black hair and sunken blue eyes. He, too, looked like a weary veteran. The third was an older man with a salt and pepper beard and a pair of dark brown eyes, eyes that seemed to see too much and was bitter for it. The last was thin and tall, with a beak for a nose and the kindest, hazel eyes Draco had ever seen.

It was when searching his gaze that Draco realized his 'guard' was relieved at their change of destination.

"Welcome to Cell Block C, Mr. Malfoy," the beak-nosed, kind-eyed one said. "My name is Heroth. Breakfast will be served in under an hour and our shift will change out. You are ordered to remain here until further notice with no less than four guard at all times. The Minister asks us to extend his personal apologies for the rough hospitality."

Draco nodded and offered a rueful smile. "Thank you, Heroth. I'm sure this is a holiday compared to Azkaban. I am not complaining."

The gruff, balding, blue-eyed one snorted softly. "You must be nothing like your father, then."

Draco's cold grey eyes swiveled over to him and beheld the man with a withering stare. "One must wonder if that is an entirely good thing, Auror." Draco lifted his sleeve and revealed the mangled, scarred Dark Mark still visible in stark black pieces on his forearm. "I may prove to be worse."

The gentle-eyed, haunted one approached the cell, a strange look on his face.

"Gasse," the gruff, blue-eyed one warned.

Gasse ignored him and regarded Draco quietly. "Young man, no one here wants anymore Hell on Earth. It might behoove you to avoid proving anything at all."

Inside of him, the coiled snake shifted, lifted its horrible head and hissed, loosing a terrible echo of laughter Draco struggled to keep at bay. He sat on the cot and wrapped his arms around himself, rocking as he pressed his lips tightly against the dark, manic laughter that bubbled inside of him. Draco shut his eyes and his head swam. Evil laughter rang off of the walls in his head, drowning out everything else, and Draco saw the burning of Rome. He saw a Persian army pillaging, the assassination of the Romanoff’s, concentration camps under the rule of Adolf Hitler, a ring of Death Eaters surrounding a tortured pregnant woman. He saw rape and murder. He saw blood and gore and hate and rage. He saw unspeakable darkness running crimson red as it drew a gash through the ages. It filled him up, saturated him. He could taste it on his tongue, feel it on his body.

And all he heard was that terrible, terrible laughter.

Draco sunk to his knees and clutched at his head. Your Gatherer is dead, Draco thought fiercely. He is dead. I killed him. He is dead. He is dead. He is dead.

Slowly, the laughter faded to a loud breathing as it listened to Draco's thoughts.

I will fight you, Draco thought. I will. You are weak and your allies are gone. Your Gatherer is dead.

I will leave my handprint on your soul, Maul whispered back. There is enough darkness here to sustain me for a lifetime.

Not my soul.

Yes, your soul. Bitterness of your mother's death. Hatred of your father. Mistrust of your friends. Scorn, apathy, anger. Guilt. Ah, there is much guilt here. And you are alone. Such loneliness. Years of isolation in the wilderness can breed such darkness, such hopelessness. It is all here. All here.

It is mine.

It is darkness nonetheless. And I will devour it like a babe devours milk. It will make me strong. Then I will have you.

No.

Oh, yes.

You will lose.

Even if I do, I will leave my handprint on your soul.

It is my soul, my darkness. You may not have it. You may not have me.

The laughter returned.

It is mine! And Draco pushed with all his might, pushed it down into his depths, burying it with any bright memory he could think of.

Maul laughed harder when Draco tried to throw memories of his mother, of Pansy, of times at Hogwarts at him, feeding on the bitterness that came with it.

Then, with a gasp, Draco thought of Harry. Harry fighting through the storms of his memory to calm him. Harry eating breakfast. Harry with his mouth all over his body. Harry with his surprising smile, a flash of merry white teeth, a wonderful crinkling at the corners of his beryl eyes. Harry and his godamned, Merlin-forsaken Hero Complex.

"I hate this."

"But not me?"

"No, not you."

Draco smothered Maul with every sunny, aching, wonderful thought and feeling he could muster, Harry Potter's name a chant in his thoughts.

And suddenly, he could breathe again.

Gasse was there watching. And so was Heroth. And the other two.

Draco climbed onto the cot and laid his head on its meager pillow, willing air in and out of his lungs in slow, steady breaths.

His guard did not speak; and whatever they thought, Draco really, truly couldn't care less.

Draco stared across his cell and fixed his gaze on the small sink. And thought of Harry.

The only beacon of light his memories seemed to hold true for him.

~*~


A/N:

thrnbrooke: Thanks for your review! I hope you enjoyed the update!



Lilith: Welcome to the story and thank you for your review! I'm somewhat notorious for mean cliffhangers. I hope it keeps readers interested *crosses fingers* versus just annoying the hell out of people, lol. I hope you enjoyed the update!



mariahs_fantasy: Thank you for your review! I hope you liked the update! There was this one interview with Dan...he was alot younger in it and I stumbled across the interview on youtube. Anyway, he does this weird cheek popping thing and the entire interview is so hilarious, I would watch it whenever I was feeling crappy because it was sure to make me laugh. I can't find it anymore, which sucks. But it seems he has plenty more. I wish I could find that one again. :( I miss it. God, it was funny.



Mangacat: You know what? In retrospect, you're absolutelly right; it was anticlimactic. I apologize for that. No, Maul didn't disappear. Maybe I should have posted those two chapters as one. Cruent was supposed to help Maul possess the body--Draco--and when Cruent lost control of the situation, Maul sunk back down because he used up alot of energy earlier in the evening. And so, in Deny the Martyr, there really was no reason for him to resurface physically. I am very sorry for not making that clear enough. I re-read it through and all of that didn't seem clear to me either, even though I'm the one writing the damn thing. I wonder if I should go back and re-write it? Or if I should explain all of that it further chapters? What do you think? Thanx for keeping me on my toes! And thanx for your wonderful review!



Timothy The Paperclip: Awesome, thank you! I hope you enjoyed the update!