Never A Memory

~Me, Myself, and I~

Hermione blinked.

Looking around her, she saw that she was sitting at a table in the Ministry of Magic's Mess Hall. Hermione checked her watch, seeing it was almost three in the afternoon.

Hermione frowned. She must have dosed off after eating lunch.

Strange that she couldn't remember coming down to the Mess Hall in the first place, or even what she had eaten.

Hermione rose to her feet and headed quickly back into the Ministry. She hated being late. Hermione was supposed to have supervised Draco's 2:30 dosage intake.

She hurried through the maze of the Ministry and up to the Minister's Suite. The four-Auror guard were oddly huddled over today's edition of the Daily Prophet and Rita Skeeter's unmistakable voice was heard coming from the “Me, Myself, and I” column.

Hermione paused on her way in. "Honestly, I can't believe you all would read such nonsense."

Anin lifted his head and handed her the column with heavy eyes. "I think you should read it yourself, Miss Granger."

Hermione took the paper and glanced at the headline. Instantly, she felt her stomach drop.

It read: "Is Harry Potter Courting the Devil in Our Most Trying Hour?"

Hermione pushed past Anin and into the Suite. Draco Malfoy, sitting at the kitchen table with his own copy of the Daily Prophet, raised his shocked, gray eyes to Hermione.

"Fuck," they said at the same time.

~*~

The Sword of Godric Gryffindor slung across his back, his partner, Ron Weasley, at his side, and Father Ernst Alt trailing behind, Harry Potter made his way inside the Ministry of Magic, the long journey to reclaim the sword finally over. Whispers, louder than usual, sounded all around them.

Like he usual did, Harry ignored them to the best of his ability. Beside him, Ron smiled when he spotted his fiancée hurrying towards them.

"Ron, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing Ron's wrist. "It's best if you get out of sight. C'mon! Hurry!"

"What is going on, Hermione?" Harry asked as they followed her through a maze of hallways. Hermione didn't answer and finally stopped in front of a conference room. Quickly, she unlocked the door and ushered the three of them inside. Blaise was there, along with an olive-skinned, hazel-eyed young man Harry recognized as Michael Deans--or, rather, Maximus Cure. Anin and his partner, Mackle, were present; and so was Mary Heart, who shuffled from the room upon seeing Harry, Ron, and Father Alt to tell the Minister they had arrived.

Immediately, Harry approached Cure and grabbed his shirt collar, glaring for all he was worth. "You two-faced son of a bitch," Harry grated.

Cure regarded Harry with laughing eyes. "That may be true, Auror; however, at the moment, you have bigger problems."

"Harry," Hermione said behind him. "You need to take a look at this."

Letting Cure go, Harry turned to Hermione and took the Daily Prophet she offered him, already opened to the "Me, Myself, and I" column.

The blood drained from his face as he read the header.

"Is Harry Potter Courting the Devil in Our Most Trying Hour?" Rita Skeeter's magicked voice read aloud. "Me, myself, and I would like to know. Inside sources tell us that Draco Malfoy, our hero who vanquished the Dark Lord over three years ago, awoke from his coma this past winter. In a stroke of brash, some would call, selfishness, Harry Potter, the Head Auror on Draco Malfoy's case at the Ministry of Magic along with Ronald Weasley, and bitter for being unable to defeat You-Know-Who, Obliviated the Malfoy heir and sent him to a mental institution for the criminally insane in United States of America. One should ponder if this was an attempt to keep Draco Malfoy silent during Harry Potter's ever-fruitless investigation of so-called Death Eaters trying to assassinate the Wizarding Hero.

"When investigating further, I found that there is an old Pureblood Prophecy claiming that Maul, a Tulpa so powerful and dangerous, its destructive nature could rival that of Lord Voldemort's, would posses a host and come into this world at the End of Days. Tom Riddle--Lord Voldemort before he became the Dark Lord--was given the task of choosing a host for Maul in exchange for the secret to immortal life. And who should You-Know-Who choose other than our savior, Draco Malfoy?

"If that doesn't come as a first class shocker, then listen to this.

"Instead of working on a solution to this brewing threat, Harry Potter leaves an Obliviated and helpless Draco Malfoy in the hands of American Muggles and goes off to China to paw through Malfoy's last will and testament; as if there would be anything in there for him. Harry Potter only returns to aid his sworn ward when the gathering army of renegade Death Eaters, led by Harry Potter's own lover, Cruent Mantle, attacks Draco Malfoy with the Inversion Enchantratem, an illegal potion meant to rob a Wizard of his magic.

"Swooping in to save the day--as he is wont to do in the most precarious, seemingly self-designed situations--Harry Potter rescues the Malfoy heir and disappears with him for two solid weeks.

"Where did they go? And what, pray tell, happened while they were away?

"My inside informant gave me the very information that will have you thinking twice about the integrity of our Auror's Division at the Ministry of Magic.

"Our insider claims that Harry Potter took Draco Malfoy to the Order of the Phoenix's former headquarters--the exact location still remains elusive--and gave the Malfoy heir a memory draught that aided our demon-possessed savior in regaining his memories. However, the plot ever-thickens. During their stay together, our informant claims that they became lovers.

"No! Say it isn't so! The two Boys-Who-Lived sleeping in the same bed?!

"Then, the army of Maul attacks Draco Malfoy again by hypnotizing him away from the safety of the Order of the Phoenix’s former Headquarters. Cruent Mantle nearly succeeds in casting out Draco Malfoy's soul and bringing forth Maul into the Malfoy heir's body. However, after an epic battle between the two, Draco manages to slay Cruent Mantle and escape within the confines and safety of the Ministry of Magic.

"The Markaghirelle is being used to keep the sleeping Maul at bay while the Ministry frantically searches for a way to destroy the Black Tulpa.

"Meanwhile, Me, Myself, and I are left wondering whether having a besotted, pathologically attention-seeking Harry Potter remaining on Draco Malfoy's case is for the best. It seems that since day one, things have been getting worse and worse for the Malfoy heir because of Harry Potter. Did Harry Potter actually drug Draco Malfoy into giving his heart away? One has to wonder. They had never shown a measure of affection towards one another before their isolated two weeks within the Order of the Phoenix’s former Headquarters.

"After all things considered, it is bewildering to think that the Ministry would allow such inappropriate conflict of interest and philandering to take place when the End of Days is still so near. The Ghost of Lord Voldemort hangs like a shadow over Draco Malfoy and all Harry Potter can think about is how to get the man into bed?

"It is, in short, a glorious scandal.

"Can we afford for such a scandal to take place during the Wizarding World's most trying hour?

"Me, Myself, and I would like to know.

"This column was written by Rita Skeeter. Until next time, dearies."

Harry's knuckles turned white as he gripped the Daily Prophet, an incomprehensible rage burning inside of him.

The bitch could have at least gotten her facts straight.

Unless...

Suddenly Harry whirled around and marched out the way he had come, slamming the door behind him. His angry steps took him quickly to the Minister's Suite and he barged in, past the guard, past the foyer, and finally, into the living room.

Draco stood, doing his best to look calm; but then Harry had him by both arms and was violently shoving him against the nearest wall. Draco's wandless magic charged up against Harry's, but he made no move to strike back as he stared down into Harry's furious green eyes.

"You glory-seeking, goddamn wanker," Harry spat. "You sold us out to the Daily Prophet, didn't you?!"

"Harry, no!" Hermione shrieked from behind them. She and Ron had followed him here. "I...I think I did."

Harry met Draco's angry, flashing eyes once before the Slytherin's magic spiked once and sent Harry hurling bodily across the room. As Harry slowly gathered himself, Draco walked into his bedroom. "If this is your idea of trust, Potter," Draco muttered before closing the door, "it's pathetic."

Harry finally got his feet under him and stood, feeling exasperation replace the ferocity of his rage. "What on Earth do you mean, you think it was you?" Harry asked, rubbing his neck as he turned to Hermione.

Hermione took in a deep breath. "Before I found out about the Daily Prophet, I found myself in the Mess Hall with about five hours of my life missing. No one knew where I had gone and I couldn't remember anything. I think they got to me, drugged me with Veritiserum, and Obliviated the whole ordeal from my memory."

"If you were anyone else, Hermione, I'd say you were full of shit."

Hermione shrugged. "It's all irrelative at this point, Harry. The Minister wants to see you."

Harry's face fell. Oh, great.

~*~

"You know this isn't something I can ignore, Potter," Scrimgeour said, pacing his office.

It was only the two of them and Harry liked the Minister the better for it. "I do, sir."

"Did you or did you not have an illicit affair with Draco Malfoy during your stay at the Phoenix’s old HQ?" Scrimgeour asked directly.

Harry hesitated, clenching his fists so tightly the words 'I must not tell lies' showed white among the scars of his left hand. "I did, sir."

Scrimgeour quit his pacing and sat heavily in a chair. "Merlin, Harry...what is wrong with you?" It wasn't often that the Minister of Magic called him by his first name.

"I've wondered as much, sir."

Scrimgeour rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "There have been inquiries. Officials want a hearing."

Harry stiffened. "A hearing, sir?"

"A hearing to judge whether or not you are fit for this case, Harry."

Harry took in a deep breath.

"We can avoid the embarrassment if you willfully resigned from the case."

Harry hung his head. "I can't do that, Minister. I'm a part of this. I never wanted to be but I am. And now...now I...Draco...I can't quit on him now, sir. It would be wrong."

Scrimgeour gazed at his young Auror as he stood before him, his gaze hard and unforgiving. "I should fire you altogether."

"I understand, sir."

"But I won't."

Harry lifted his head. "Sir?"

"I disapprove of your affair, and believe me, if it weren't for the obstacles to come, the repercussions I would hand you would be severe. However..." Scrimgeour stood and faced the window behind his desk, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. "I believe your intentions are good ones, despite Skeeter's interpretations. If you can convince the jury, you will have convinced me. You may go."

"With respect, Minister," Harry said, taking a step forward. "Could the hearing wait until after the Inversion Enchantratem?"

"No," Scrimgeour said flatly. "Father Alt needs time to diagnose Malfoy and Cure needs a few days to complete the Inversion Enchantratem. The hearing will be during this time. Afterwards...well, I suppose that is up to you. Also," Scrimgeour glanced over his shoulder at Harry, "I'd advise you to stay away from Malfoy for the time being; at least until the hearing is over."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling sick. "Yes, sir," Harry whispered, hating himself and not understanding why. “Would it be possible avoid allowing Ron or Hermione to feel the heat for any of this?”

We fly together, we die together.

Scrimgeour shook his head. “I don’t know, son.”

We get fired together.

With a heavy heart, Harry Potter took his leave.

~*~