NATALIA [Draco Malfoy Fanfiction]

Fifteen | Semper

The next time I saw professor Snape for a lesson in Occulamency, I had asked him if he could ever tell if a memory had been tampered with.

"And... would you be able to retrieve it?"

"No," Snape said, "one wouldn't be able to retrieve a memory that no longer exists, however, there is sometimes a sense that there is something missing."

"Is there something missing with mine?"

He didn't respond, and confirmed what I already knew. That there was.

So, I found myself determined to get it out of Malfoy as I walked to the library, actually looking forward to our session despite all that had happened between us. Despite the fact that if the trend of how Malfoy responds to life were to continue on in the same way, I should be prepared for a fight.

Maybe I shouldn't look forward to this?

It is, of course, reassuring when I remember the tolerance break Malfoy had decided to partake in, as when I walked in I found him staring blankly at the wall of books he faced.

"Malfoy," I greeted. Would he look me in the eye?

He doesn't, at first. "Blackwell," he replied, turning to look down at his hands.

I could tell he was trying to block me out, but he clearly wasn't used to occulating without the potion, as he practically left dents in the desk with his fingers.

"You know what I'm going to ask you."

He grimaced; "and I hate to disappoint, but I'm not going to give it to you."

"They're my memories," I pointed out; "they belong to me. You can't just take them!"

He scoffed; "Blackwell, you've clearly been giving this some thought, but I'm going to warn you right now that I am very much on the verge of collapse, so, unless you want me downing the last of the forbidden potion, I'm going to ask you to shut up."

That did put a bit of a hitch in my plan, as when he does meet my eye I actually recoiled at how distraught he looked. "Fuck, Malfoy. Are you okay?"

"Side effects to the potion after prolonged use" he gritted out, "on top of the usual surplus of emotions, there's now nausea, fever, chills, and a very daunting sense that I'll never feel happy again."

"And that... doesn't usually happen?"

"Before I was microdosing between uses, so now that it's officially out of my system, my body has forgotten how to function without it."

"Who told you about the potion."

Malfoy shrugged, I pressed on; "did they tell you to microdose? Or to just use it in the presence of, y'know, the dark lord."

"The less attachment I had to the world, the better," he explained, "so when I struggled with cutting my ties, I was told by... well, it doesn't matter now."

There's a moment where he looks cold to the touch; "you're occulating."

"It's the closest thing—if I don't it'll all feel like too much," he murmured; "not that it doesn't still."

"At least you still feel things," I pointed it, "nothing is irreversible yet."

"Right now, I'd take the permanent damage."

"Don't say that."

"Why? It's not like I'm a fucking saint. I just... need to do something where I'm not thinking about how I feel," he decided.

"Well, there's always school."

He laughs humourlessly, before realizing that I wasn't kidding; "seriously?"