Memory\'s Ghost

“Draco, no,” Harry whispered, reaching out to the crystal walls and brushing his fingers over the face he loved so well, “don’t give up hope. I’ll find my way back to you. I’ll make things right.”

“Are you certain you can? Look at him--you’ve ruined him!” Voldemort preened as Harry’s stomach twisted into a vicious knot. “Drained the life right out of him! The once proud Draco Malfoy at twenty-four years old looks closer to fifty. He was the most stunning creature I’d ever seen, so beautiful even I couldn’t resist wanting him, and now I wouldn’t give him a second glance!”

“Somehow, I think he’d prefer it that way,” Tom muttered and Voldemort gave him a sharp look.

“What was that, boy?” he snapped, and Tom lifted his chin to glare at his other self.

“You are the ugliest, most disgusting thing I have ever seen. He has more beauty in the circles beneath his eyes” Tom said, nodding towards the images gracing the walls, “than you have in your entire body, and do you know why? Those circles were earned through suffering for someone he loves. You’ve turned yourself into a monstrosity through a search for power you can never possess. No matter how much he goes through, he will always be more beautiful than you, whereas you’re an atrocity, a horror that never should have existed.”

Harry gave Tom a look of pride and gratitude as he squeezed the ghost’s hand, who looked on him and smiled. He truly couldn’t have defended Draco better himself and was glad to know that Tom understood.

Voldemort, however, was not quite as pleased.

“*I* never should have existed?” he sneered, red eyes glowing dangerous. “Strange thing for you to say, boy, considering I created you and can unmake you just as easily! You’ve served your purpose here, though you’ve done a poor job at that. It is long past time I put an end to you.”

The madman took a step towards the couple and Harry quickly moved between Voldemort and Tom, crossing his arms over his chest. “Stay away from him.”

“He is none of your concern.”

“That’s not true. If we are, as you claim, inside my head, that means he came from my thoughts, my memories, my life. This makes him mine, not yours, so stay the fuck away.”

Voldemort heaved a melodramatic sigh, shaking his head slowly back and forth. “Harry Harry Harry, you just don’t get it, do you?”

The Dark Wizard snapped his fingers. There was a gasp from behind him and Harry looked over his shoulder to see Tom had disappeared. A surge of anger rushing through his veins and he turned back to Voldemort to see him standing with one arm around Tom’s shoulders, keeping him still while he held a knife to the young man’s throat.

“This is my world you’re in, Harry, not yours. You have no power here. I’m the one in control.”

“This is my world! My mind!” Harry shouted back as he held out his hand, golden lines of magic zapping between his fingers. “I’m the one with the power, not you. I have destroyed you once--more than once!--and it will be a pleasure to destroy you again!”

Voldemort looked unfazed by this little display, his eyes filled with scorn rather than fear. “The thing about the mind, Harry, is that its power is limitless, and since I am a part of your mind, that means my power is limitless--including the power to block you.” With a wave of his hand, Voldemort threw a silver net of magic over Harry, who began struggling against the unrelenting strands. “And the power to take away everything you care about.”

A ghoulish grin on his face, Voldemort drew the knife across Tom’s throat with one quick slice. Laughing with glee, the madman threw the boy to the ground, raising his arms in triumph. Blue eyes grew wide as blood spurted from the wound and Tom clutched at his throat to try and staunch the flow.

“NO!” Harry shouted as he tore at the net, his hands blazing with magical flames. The strands quickly fell away and he threw himself at the ghost, holding the weakening young man in his arms. “Tom!”

The ghost tried to speak, but no sounds could escape his ravaged throat.

“Hold on, love, hold on,” Harry murmured frantically as he covered the wound with his hands, his fingers immediately growing slick with blood. “I will find a way to save you.”

Tom shook his head, eyes filled with sorrow. Lifting a shaking arm, he pointed to the image of Draco frozen on the crystal walls. “Save him,” he mouthed, and Harry nodded as tears flooded his eyes.

“I will. I’ll save you both.”

But even as he spoke, Tom’s body seemed to sigh. With a final attempt at a smile, the ghost’s head lulled to the side and he grew heavy in Harry’s arms.

“No. No! Tom!” Harry cried, holding the ghost to his chest. Sobs wracked his body as he wept for yet another of Voldemort’s victims, the loss of another life of someone he loved. “You bastard,” he growled as boney fingers stroked his hair.

“He wasn’t real, Harry.”

“He was real to me!” he snapped, jerking away from the madman’s touch, but Voldemort reached down to grab Harry by the chin, forcing the green eyes to look up at him.

“I am your only reality now. Not him,” he nodded to the body of his youth, “not him,” he nodded to the images on the walls, “just me.”

Voldemort leaned down to claim his mouth a brutish kiss and Harry felt the coldness begin to seep into his bones.



“Malfoy! MALFOY!”

Cursing, Draco quickly reapplied his concealing charms, making sure his enchantments were in place before he turned to meet the hysterical redhead.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he asked harshly, but if Ron noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Hurry! It’s Harry!”

All irritation vanished in a flash of panic as he disappeared, reappearing in Harry’s room. A rushing mediwitch immediately pushed him out of the way as she made a mad dash to Harry’s side and he took shelter against the wall while absorbing the chaos. His eyes instantly moved to the bed and Draco watched in a state of shock as Harry’s body was overwhelmed with convulsions, no bonds magic or human able to hold him down. All sorts of alarms sounded amidst a cacophony of voices filled with worry and confusion as the mediwizards tried to figure out what was going on.

“It just. . . happened,” Ron said from where he’d appeared at Draco’s side, the normally robust voice sounding unusually small. “I was about to leave when all of a sudden the alarms started going off and he just began shaking. Draco, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Sensing the growing panic in the mediwizards, knowing what that panic meant, something in side Draco snapped.

“How am I supposed to know?” he snarled, glaring at the redhead. “If I knew, don’t you think I would have done something to wake him up by now? I’m as clueless as the rest of you and all the more responsible because I should know!”

“You are not responsible--” Ron began, but Draco refused to listen to any objections.

“The fuck I’m not! I’m the one with the most experience in Dark magic. I’m the one who’s lived with him for the past four years, who knows what he’s been through, who knows his thoughts, his dreams, his nightmares, and I’m fucking helpless! Why do you all keep turning to me? I DON’T KNOW!”

“Draco--”

“Fuck off, Weasley!” The Slytherin shoved Ron away and pushed himself between the flock of mediwizards until he’d reached the head of Harry’s bed. Taking the face of the unconscious wizard between his hands, he pressed his forehead to his lover’s and screamed. It was a sound of such helplessness and rage and frustration that everyone in the room grew quite, taking a step back to stare as Draco kept screaming.

All of a sudden, Harry’s body stopped mid-convulsion and his eyes flew open, the green startling against his pale face. Draco’s jaw snapped shut as he was stunned silent by the turn of events. After a few moments, he tilted his head thoughtfully at Harry.

“Well,” he began, frowning at his lover, “if I’d known that was all it would take. . .”

But even though Harry’s body was no longer shaking and his eyes were open, it was clear he hadn’t returned. The green irises saw nothing, but stared blankly up at the ceiling with only the occasional blink to reveal he was alive.



With a sudden show of strength, Harry pushed Voldemort away. He felt chilled through and through, as if he’d been standing barefoot in the snow while being pelted by an arctic wind. His body ached with the urge to curl up and sleep, but he couldn’t let himself do that. He knew that the moment he closed his eyes, Voldemort would win.

Forcing himself to his feet, Harry faced his enemy once again, his expression one of pure loathing.

“You are not part of my reality!” Harry shouted and pointed at the walls. “He is my reality, the only reality I ever want to know. You are part of my past, nothing more. I don’t know what sort of spell you cast on these walls to give yourself power, but I do know you only exist in my mind. You plucked yourself out of my memories to give yourself life, but you know what? I don’t have to remember you! All I have to do is forget about you, and you’ll be gone!”

“Forget about me?” Voldemort said with a harsh laugh. “You can’t forget about me, boy! I made you! My existence is what forged you! Without me, you’re nothing!”

“I’d rather be nothing than be you!”

“You don’t have a choice!”

Harry looked at him, then shook his head, his smile sad but triumphant. “You’re right, I don’t.”

His wand appearing in his hand, Harry pointed the tip at his temple.

“NO!” Voldemort screamed, lunging for the wand, but it was too late as Harry’s shout filled the crystal cave.

“OBLIVIATE OMNINO!”

A cry of rage echoed through the cave as the world went black.



At the sound of a forceful crash, Harry looked up from the book he was reading and gradually let it fall to his chest. He quietly watched the waves as they reached for the shore, then slowly drew back, readying themselves for another try. He sometimes wondered what on the land it was they were reaching for, and if they would ever find it. Or maybe they were reaching for nothing in particular, maybe the waves were just proving they could make it to the shore.

He respected the waves, the ocean, the seemingly endless emptiness of the horizon, but he knew the emptiness was deceptive. Somewhere beyond the edge of the world lay vast continents and new oceans and another larger, colder island, an island that held his past, an island he had left behind. He knew he’d been born there, and grew up there, and that terrible things had happened to him during his life there, but he didn’t know what things. He only knew what he was told.

He wasn’t told much.

He saw too much of himself in the waves, the constant reaching for something unknown that would forever be beyond his grasp, the parts of himself that he knew rested just beyond the horizon but would never see. It was why he spent so much time in the water, sailing, surfing, diving, always exploring and finding thousands of treasures in fish or plants or coral or the thrill of riding the waves, but was left with nothing that he could take back with him to the shore.

It was like that in his dreams sometimes. He’d catch glimpses of his of past, of faces that blurred and blended together, shadowy events that sometimes caused him to wake screaming, but when he tried to think back on what was so horrible, he couldn’t remember. His past was gone, and somehow, he didn’t feel any urgency to get it back.

Footsteps behind him made him smile, and he set the book aside. The sun was to his back and he knew that if he turned his head, he would be blinded. Instead he waited, listening as the footsteps drew closer, and prepared himself to be blinded by another sight.

The lean golden body paused to his left just a few feet in front of him. Linen pants nearly the color of the sand hung low on his hips, held up only by a simple drawstring. The ocean breeze played delightfully with the loose cloth and the shockingly white hair hanging free down his back. Harry only had to stare at the smooth skin undulating over the lightly muscled back and a tingling filled his veins. The man was beauty personified and Harry still couldn’t figure out how he’d ever earned the right to gaze upon him.

“Have you been out here all day?”

Harry shook his head, though he knew the man couldn’t see him. “Just a couple hours. I had two sailing lessons to give to the tourists this morning, and I spent a few hours helping Ray with the turtles. Were you with Tau?”

“For most of the day,” he nodded, his voice filling with a slightly caustic enthusiasm. “Almost turned a healing elixir into a poison again. These native plants are a lot more potent than you would think. Their magical properties are so subtle and so varied, just one extra leaf can change the entire outcome of a potion.”

“So you had a good day?” Harry asked, lightly teasing, and the man smiled.

“I had a marvelous day.”

“Your professor friend must be envious,” he commented, trying to sound casual.

“You mean Snape?” the man asked, amused, as he glanced over his shoulder at Harry, a gleam in his silver eyes.

“That’s the one,” Harry answered, flushing slightly. Names were still difficult, and he was embarrassed that the man had to keep reminding him.

“Yes, Snape is envious, but I’ve been sending him cuttings and bulbs to be planted in the school greenhouses, so if they survive, he’ll have a whole new realm of ingredients for his potions.”

“I’m glad for him. Is he still. . .”

A pale eyebrow arched. “Trying to find you a cure?”

“Yeah.”

“He is, but Harry, the power behind the spell you cast on yourself was strong. It may not be reversible, except by yourself.”

“But I can’t remember what I did.”

“Yet another reason why it may be irreversible.”

“Is it wrong to feel that’s a good thing?”

The man smiled, kneeling down next to him and taking Harry’s hands between his own. “Not at all. Since we’re on the subject, or before we can grow totally sidetracked from it, how was your day?”

Harry sighed, looking away and the man gave his hands a comforting squeeze. His long-term memory had been destroyed, and he’d been told there was a chance his short-term memory would return, but some days were worse than others, and he had his doubts.

“I kept having to check with my notes and the picture album for the names of people I was supposed to meet and for the places I was supposed to go. Everyone is always very patient with me, but sometimes I can’t help feeling like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. Your friends understand how difficult this is for you. Just remember to ask questions when you’re confused, or when you can’t remember.”

“You mean, when I forget?” Harry asked and the man gave an impish grin.

“You’ve already forgotten. Why make more work for yourself? Just say you can’t remember.”

“That’s a twisted way of thinking,” he chuckled, and received a smile in return.

“It’s the only way to think. Otherwise, you’re just not exploring all your options. Trust me,” he winked, “this is something you have too much experience with.”

He raised Harry’s hands to his lips with a gentle kiss, and Harry felt a shiver tiptoe down his spine. Everything about the man was perfect, from the softness of his lips to the wave of white hair that fell over the tanned shoulder. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, catching a few strands between his fingers.

“So are you,” he smiled. Harry shook his head, and the man’s smile grew. “You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“Is this because you don’t remember what you look like?”

“No,” he said, flushing. “I just don’t think there’s anyone as beautiful as you out there.”

“Well, yes,” the man said with a smirk. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t find you beautiful. Tell me, Harry, do you remember me? Do you know my name?”

Looking up, Harry stared hard into the silver eyes and focused on remembering, not wanting to disappoint the man, but his mind was blank.

“Think about what you do know,” the soft voice urged, and he smiled.

“I know you’re a wizard and can do magic, and you tell me I used to be a wizard too, but I’ve forgotten how.”

“That’s right, and if you want, we can work on getting your magic back,” he said, clasping Harry’s hands to his heart, and Harry felt a thrill at the warmth emanating off of the smooth chest.

“No, thank you. I don’t think I want it back,” he said, finding it difficult to concentrate.

“That’s up to you,” he nodded. “What else do you know about me?”

The green eyes twinkled with mischief. “You forget how to speak just before you come.”

The silver eyes narrowed. “I’m going to forget how to have sex if you don’t at least try.”

Harry took a deep breath and concentrated.

“I know I love you.”

“And I love you. But that’s too easy,” he said, slowly drawing circles over the pulse point on Harry’s wrist. “Maybe we need to try a different approach. What name are you going to be screaming when you come?”

“Oh god?” he grinned, and the man chuckled.

“Flattering, but not quite. What’s my name, Harry? You remembered Tau and Ray just a few minutes ago. Who am I?”

The man’s hand began moving up his arm and Harry watched, entranced, as the elegant fingers drew invisible patterns on his skin.

“Are you putting a spell on me?” he asked, only half teasing, and the man gave him a smile that made him a little nervous.

“Maybe. Maybe I’m putting a lust spell on you, so you can’t resist me.”

“I already can’t resist you,” Harry said somewhat breathlessly as the man’s eyes seemed to bore into his soul.

“Then maybe I’m just drawing on your arm.”

“You never ‘just do’ anything. You’re above that. You always have a purpose.”

“See?” he asked with a smug smile. “You do know me, better than you think you do.”

Harry looked bashfully pleased, as if he was glad to know the beautiful man before him, but not quite sure what it meant.

“And since you know me so well,” the man continued, his fingers moving across the base of Harry’s throat, “later tonight, when I’m swallowing your cock so deep you can feel yourself nudging the back of my throat, whose name are you going to call?”

Gasping at the surge of blood to the aforementioned organ, Harry moaned, “Draco.”

Their eyes met, the silver bursting with a joyous light, and Harry knew he’d remembered.

“Draco,” he repeated and the man rewarded him with a kiss that forced him back in the chair. Sometime during the kiss, Harry had been straddled by his lover, who demanded, “Again.”

“Draco,” Harry smiled as the golden arms wrapped around him, drawing him close so that his cock met with a matching hardness that had them both rubbing relentlessly against each other as they kissed.

“I’m so proud of you right now,” Draco said, sliding the shirt off of Harry’s chest and latching his lips onto a pebbled nipple.

Harry gasped as teeth grazed his skin and he arched into Draco’s touch, wondering how he could have ever forgotten this. Surely there was nothing in the world that felt so amazing. Well, no, he knew of at least one thing. He tangled his fingers in the pale hair and gently raised the wizard’s head till their eyes met.

“Love me, Draco.”

The silver eyes flashed with hunger.

“In every way possible,” he said and they scrambled to their feet, sand flying as they ran.

It took them only a few seconds to reach the small house that was their home, shedding their sparse clothing along the way. Harry’s back barely had time to hit the mattress before he felt the slickness of a lubricant spell inside of him.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, squirming on the bed to make the sensation a little less uncomfortable. “You could have warned me!”

Draco just grinned. “What would be the fun in that?” he asked as he knelt down between Harry’s knees. His fingers spread wide, he ran his hands down the length of Harry’s chest to his upper thighs, pausing there with his thumbs caressing the silky hairs between his legs. “You’re beautiful to me from every angle,” he said, his eyes peering mischievously past the tip of the erect cock to look into his lover’s face, “but I think this one may be my favorite.”

“I prefer it when you’re above me and in me at the same time.”

“Wish granted,” Draco said, sliding up Harry’s body again and meeting him with a kiss as he quickly prepared the dark-haired man.

Their lovemaking was fast and furious, Draco thrusting into him with all his might and nearly losing control every time Harry called out his name. He was aware that by tomorrow, Harry might not even recognize his face, but in that moment, Harry was his and he was Harry’s and he wasn’t going to let him go. He claimed his lover’s body in every way he knew how, his passion carrying the desperate knowledge that this was all he’d ever have since he would never have Harry’s mind again.

As they lay afterwards panting in each other’s arms, Harry treasured the silver head resting on his chest, understanding that he’d fought long and hard for this moment of uninhibited joy. He didn’t know anything about his and Draco’s journey, or of their losses beyond the sadness carried in a pair of silver eyes. He only knew the peace he felt in the present and was content to feel for the rest of his life, so long as he always had Draco’s heart.

Harry cradled the wizard’s body against his own as Draco drifted off into the realm of dreams, but sleep for him was a long time coming. Harry stared up at the ceiling in the darkening room, wondering about the life he’d never known, unable to distinguish it from the life he knew, and blissfully unaware of the flashes of red that occasionally colored his eyes.

THE END


[Completed May 16, 2005]