Never A Memory

A/N: Okey dokey, here's two chapters for your reading pleasure. Neither have been through Word's most wonderful spell check yet, so puh-lease excuse any horrendous typos or mispelling of things. I'll fix it as soon as possible.

I haven't felt this inspired in a long time. I literally wrote the next two chapters in one day. Remember when it took me two months just to write one?

Pretty freakin' cool. Thank you to all of you have given me thoughtful critiques. They have tickled my Muse's fancy!

Here you go! Enjoy!


~The Seven Keys~

Harry's steps pattered noisily on the tiled floor as he moved across the main forum of the Ministry of Magic. Whispers followed him as he passed and Harry ignored them like he usually did. They saw him and Ron Weasley lead Draco Malfoy, caged like a wild thing between four highly trained Aurors, through Ministry of Magic and directly to the Minister's Office. Others also witnessed those same four Aurors conduct him back down to the forum and then back into the Ministry after recieving a memo from Scrimgeour himself. What they thought, Harry knew must be crazy. Somehow, Harry knew none of it would be close to the truth.

Ron marched quietly next to him, lifting his head to peer at Harry every once and a while like he was on the verge of sayng something. They had been on their way to the mess hall to snag a bite for breakfast before debriefing; but then Harry had winced, turned on his heel, and took off briskly in the opposite direction. Ron followed.

Though, in all sincerety, Ron wonderd if Harry realized that he was even there.

For many minutes of following his best mate down three stories and seemingly endless, winding halls, Ron watched Harry march on, his head in some other place. Harry seemed dazed and driven at the same time, his bright green eyes concentrating on something Ron couldn't fathom. However, Ron could see the strain of exhaustion, stress, and worrying all over his dearest friend. His bright beryl gaze was dimmed by shadowy circles lining his eyes, his mouth seemed fixed into a harsh frown, and his very stature seemed rigid and taut, like a bow strung too tight and ready to snap. Ron had seen this before.

Finally realizing that Harry was headed to Cell Block C, Ron reached out a hand and stopped Harry with a firm grasp on the young Auror's shoulder. Harry looked over at hm and blinked slowly, like he was seeing Ron for the fiirst time in a long time.

"No," Ron said.

Harry's frown deepened. "No, what?"

"You need rest," Ron stated firmly. "Leave Malfoy be."

"He was fighting Maul," Harry protested softly, swaying slightly on his feet. "I could feel it. And I heard my name. Draco was saying it. Then the struggle faded."

Ron blinked. "Harry, what is it exactly that you think you can do now?"

"He was calling for me," Harry said stubbornly. "I have to see if he's okay."

"You said it faded."

"I have to see if he's okay."

"Merlin, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, turning the heads of a few passerby's. "Look at yourself. Your exhausted. You need sleep and a few hours to relax. You're in no state to help anybody."

Harry turned his face away. "Even so."

Beginning to get frustrated, Ron tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder and shook him. "One visit and then you go straight home and take the rest of the day off. You have to promise me. I don't want to see you back here until tommorrow morning."

Harry turned back to Ron, looking incredulous. "Are you mad? What if the Tulpa comes back? The potion's not ready yet and we still haven't found a way to kill it once we seperate it from Draco's body. I can't just take a day off, Ron! This is my job!"

Ron nodded, looking severe. "You've done your job; now let everyone else do theirs. 'Mione and Snape are working on the potion, Malfoy's not going anywhere and we've got four Auror veterans watching him around the clock. Even Blaise is helping us get Cure. I'll be here in case anything bizarre happens. You can take the day off, mate. The world won't end if you get a few hours rest, Harry."

"We need to figure out a way to kill it! We've only thirty days, Ron!"

"Yeah, and we'll start on day two." Ron set his chin, looking unmovable.

Harry sighed. "Fine."

"Promise," Ron demanded, adamant.

"I promise."

Satisfied, Ron bowed, sweeping his arm out in a dramatic fashion. The gesture was so out of character for his best mate that Harry actually smiled.

Soon, they were at the entrance of the Ministry of Magic's isolated Cell Block. They made short time of going through the screenings and wards that barracaded certain personnel and admitted few others. Being the Head Aurors on the Malfoy Case, they were admitted without question. Once inside, Harry seemed to freeze in the doorway of Cell Block C, his gaze fixated on the perfect square of charmed bars that caged Draco Malfoy. Ron gave him a discreet nudge.

Entering, Harry circled the cell at a few paces away, trying to get a better view. Draco appeared to be sleeping.

But, no. Draco's pale grey eyes, that seemed frostier against the slate of the iron bars, lifted to meet Harry's when he came into view.

Harry hesitated when he took in Draco's haggard appearance. Never had he seen him look so...*worn*, not even in his Pensieve. If Harry had shadows beneath his eyes, Draco's were deeper and darker. He looked paler than usual, unkempt, and tired. And when he finally stirred, rising to sitting position on the meager cot that Cell Block C afforded him, Harry saw the cut on his lip, the nasty gash above his left eye, and the purpling bruises that stood out so garishly against his pale skin, along his jaw and high on his cheekbone. Harry swallowed guiltily, knowing he had given him those.

"Ice," Harry said, his voice hoarse. Ron and the other Aurors stood umoving, glancing at one another questioningly. Harry turned to them. "Bring me ice!"

Heroth headed for the door. "I'll get it."

Harry turned back to Draco, his eyes roaming over the blemishes he had inflicted on his lover's face and feeling remorseful. He had to hit him. He had to.

Harry let the morning's events replay in his mind, remembering the panic in Draco's face as he roared curses against Harry's valiant Shield Charm; and, more importantly, remembering his eyes growing darker and darker. If there was one thing Harry knew about darkness, it was that it fed on despair like nothing else. His own despair was the deadliest weapon Voldemort had once threatened him with. And despair was what was weakening Draco to Maul in those final moments before Harry knocked him off of his broom.

Then, it had vanished completely when Draco killed Cruent.

Well, executed him was more like it.

Even so, Harry could not gainsay Draco's actions. It was obvious that Draco severely weakened the Black Tulpa by destroying his Gatherer. "It is my body," Draco had said as he stood over the tortured Cruent, venomous snakes pouring out of every orifice in his body. "And you were going to let him have it."

Harry wondered if there was more to this puzzle than he was comprehending.

Heroth returned with the ice and handed it over to Harry wrapped in a cloth. "Thank you," Harry said with a nod. "Now give us the room."

"Harry--" Ron began.

"Give us the room," Harry repeated, a stubborn note to his voice that Ron easily recognized.

"Then give me your wand," Ron replied, holding out his hand.

Immediately, Harry handed it over and Ron gave it to Gasse. Afterward, they all vacated the room and shut the door, leaving Harry and Draco a small amount of privacy.

Only then did Harry approach the bars, handing Draco the ice. "You look terrible."

Draco took the ice and held it to his cheek. "You look like you could use some rest yourself."

Harry smiled ruefully. "So I'm told."

Draco sunk down and sat crosslegged on the cold floor, as if his legs wouldn't hold him upright for vey long. Harry sat as well, liking the nearness of it, and leaned his head against the magic bars. "You're not eating," Harry said, noting the untouched breakfast tray.

"I'm not hungry."

"I came because I felt--"

"I know."

Harry's eyes fluttered closed. "Can you hold out until the potion is made?"

"Yes," came Draco's answer.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You called my name."

"No, I didn't."

Harry opened his eyes and turned his face so he could better see Draco's. The Malfoy heir was gazing back at Harry, his eyes soft as he leant his head against the foot of the cot. "I said your name, I didn't call it," Draco said, a secret smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Harry grunted, too tired to play one of Malfoy's games. "What did it want?"

"The usual."

"Ah."

A moment passed where neither said anything.

"Why was the Gatherer important to Maul?" Harry mused aloud.

"Because only the Gatherer knows how to cast away souls without ridding the Host of the Black Tulpa," Draco answered, as if this knowledge had always been inside his head all along. However, when Harry turned to look at Draco again, the Slytherin seemed surprised at his own words. "The Gatherer seals the Black Tulpa inside of the Host," Draco continued. "Without his Gatherer, Maul would have to work harder to cast out the Host's soul and claim the body."

"'The Gatherer is hosted and calls in the Night...'" Harry said, quoting the Prophecy. "So you threw a wrench in his Prophecy when you killed the Gatherer."

Draco was unsure what a wrench was but he nodded anyway. "I suppose so."

"'The Gatherer is hosted and calls in the Night...'" Harry quoted again, suddenly feeling sick. "Draco...do you think Cruent was possessed too?"

Draco was quiet for a moment, waiting for an answer to pop into his mind like the last one did. But thre was none forthcoming. "I don't know," Draco murmured finally. "Harry, I'm so sorry."

Harry turned away, slumping down further. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sound of Cruent screaming as Draco tortured him. Harry didn't like this bitter cold feeling in his chest.

Harry jumped when Draco wrapped an arm around his torso through the bars, holding him in a loose embrace. Harry turned into it, rising to his knees and reaching out to hold the back of Draco's neck. Harry pressed his forehead against Draco's lightning bolt scar, the cold bars sparking against the magic their connection elicited. "I'll get you out of here," Harry said. "You just hold out until that potion is ready."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Draco repeated, his grey eyes wide with guilt, searching his lover's gaze for what he felt. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm going to study the Prophecy to see if there is any glich we can use against this thing."

"Harry, I'm so sorry."

"Ron wants me to take the day off."

"Harry!"

"What?"

Draco waited until Harry met his gaze, trying not to read too much into the pain he saw there. "Merlin, I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I tortured him like that. I don't know why I played with him and hurt him like I did. But I can't say that it was Maul doing it. I can't say that." Draco took in a deep breath. "When I looked at him, I saw the man that wanted to rip my soul out of my body and give me over to this thing inside of me. I saw the man that crept into your bed to get closer to that goal. I saw the man that used you to use me and I wanted to hurt him. It was blinding and irrational, but I wanted it and so I did it. And then I killed him. Mercilessly. I swear, Harry, I didn't feel a thing. I'm so, so sorry. I murdererd someone you cared about and I didn't think--"

"No, no, shh..." Harry wished he could hold Draco closer, he wished he could do so many things that he couldn't; but there were tears streaming down Draco's pale, haggard face and he didn't know how to comfort him. "I don't know if Cruent was ever worth any of this...or if he was ever more than Maul's tool; but I'll tell you one thing, Draco: I probably would have done the same thing if our roles were swapped."

Draco didn't answer as he dashed at his face with the back of one hand, irratibly wiping away his tears as if they were shameful. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry pressed his lips to Draco's brow before rising to his feet. "I'll get you out of here as soon as I can."

Draco nodded and rose to sit on his cot.

Harry crossed the room but paused at the door. "I know in my gut that Cruent's not worth your tears, Draco," Harry murmured. Draco raised his head, meeting Harry's gaze. "But it makes me feel better," Harry continued, "knowing you think he is. It means you're winning against this bastard Maul."

"Does it?"

Harry offered a faint, encouraging smile. "I think so." Harry knocked three times on the door and Draco's guards were re-admitted.

Harry left Cell Block C and did not look back. This time, he didn't feel he needed to.

This time, Draco almost wished he had.

~*~

Ron walked Harry back to the Main Forum, their steps brisk and full of intention. Harry spoke to him in low tones the entire way.

"Ron, I need you to brief everyone involved in this case; make sure everyone is on the same page. Draco's gaurd who aren't on shift, the Auror's who aided in Wisconsin, the Minister, Hermione, and Snape."

Ron nodded, his bright red hair falling into his eyes. "Yes, I was thinking that. What about Blaise?"

"To be blunt, mate," Harry said, "I don't entirely trust the man."

"I agree," Ron responded, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "What is he doing here?"

"I don't even think Snape is sure," Harry murmured, glancing over his shoulder. "We might do well to look into that."

Ron nodded again.

"I want a full update on the progress of the Markaghirelle when I return in the morning," Harry said, adjusting his Auror's robes around his shoulders. "Have Hermione get it on my desk first thing."

"Aye aye, your highness."

Harry grinned before turning serious again as he paused before the exit. "During your briefing, make sure to analyze and interpret every possible meaning and crux of Maul's Prophecy. It's imperitive that we know how to kill this thing as soon as possible."

Ron reached out and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it slightly. "You got it, mate. Get some rest. I mean it."

"I really hate to break up such affectionate comeraderie," Snape drawled, approaching in a swirl of black robes. "But, surely, some things are better left for a more private setting."

Harry and Ron turned to scowl at their old Potions Master. "Aren't you supposed to be brewing a potion to save our godson?" Ron replied, his lip curling even though his insides began to knot up. He really, really hated this man.

Snape sneered. "Oh, yes. However, Ms. Granger brought it to my attention that the two witless wonders that are in charge of my godson's case didn't know what the Seven keys were."

Ron felt Harry freeze next to him. "Well, don't leave us in suspense, Snape," Harry grated.

"Really, Potter, I had expected more from you," Snape replied lazily, his black eyes sharp and contemptuous. "You had, after all, spent a considerable amount of time hunting them down in order to defeat Lord Voldemort."

Harry sucked in a breath. "Horcruxes!" Harry felt a piece of the expanding puzzle slide into place.

"Yes," Snape said. "I believe Voldemort promised Maul a Host if he relinquished the secret to the Horcruxes."

Harry's eyes widened before he pushed forward, trying to shoulder his way past Ron and Snape and back into the Ministry. Ron shoved him back. "No, Harry! Go home and rest."

"How the hell am I supposed to rest now, Ron--"

"Figure it out," Ron exclaimed, jabbing his finger towards the door, his patience slipping.

"Ron--"

"Go!"

Harry took one last look at Ron's face and realized that his partner was prepared to drag him to his flat himself if he had to. Harry sighed, turned, and went.

"You," Ron said, gesturing to Snape. "Get back to work. If any more useful tidbits come into your oily head, you send a goddamned memo."

Snape reared up, indignant. "When did you earn the rght to order me about, Weasley?"

"When you began wasting precious, invaluable time to start scenes with Harry Potter in the Main Forum of the Ministry of Magic!" Ron hissed, his temper all but lost and giving him a smidge of courage. "Now get back to saving your godson's sanity. I thought that was important to you!"

Snape sent him a withering glare before storming off, leaving Ron to throw up his hands.

Across the forum, Dolores Umbridge--demoted after her behavior during the war, but still very, very capable of starting trouble...and enough malice-laced cause to do so--smiled her pink, plump-faced smile. "Well, well, well; what is going on here?"

If there were three people she had it out for, it was Hermione Granger, her simpering Auror fiancee Ronald Weasley, and his celebrity, no-good partner Harry Potter.

But most especially, Harry Potter.

For he must not tell lies.

~*~



mariahs_fantasy: Thank you for your advice! I revised the chapters and I did it in a way that the flow is initially the same, but a few added lines here and there give clarity to what needed an explaination. I reference back to those added lines in the new chapters in case the readers missed them or felt it unnecessary to reread Deny the Martyr. *crosses fingers* I hope it works! Thank you for your review! And I hope you enjoy the updates!



Mangacat: Again, your review inspired the updates. I think we're working on the same brainwave here because everytime I conceptualize the next chapter, I read your review and it parallels what I'll go into. Oh yes, 'Cure' was intended. He's no hero...but its one of those times where selfish genious becomes a weapon against evil. I go into depth with the Prophecy in the next chapter, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Thank you for your review! And enjoy!