Stop All the Clocks

chapter 5 - old memories

Draco Malfoy did not expect to see Harry Potter beaten half to death in the darkest corner of a small alley way. Hell, he wasn't even sure how he had found him.

Draco had gone to the bar as Alex hadn't returned and he was quite bored and anxious, and as soon as he had arrived he felt something. A nagging sort of feeling that hurt his chest in a way much like a heart attack would've. He wasn't sure what it was or why it was happening, he just wanted it to stop.

At first, he had tried to get it to go away by drinking a few beers, something that not only made him feel like he would throw up but also made the pain even more unbearable. After he also started to develop a headache, adding to his overall pain, he had decided to leave. It had been one of his shortest visits to the club since right after seventh year when he wanted to wash away some memories from the war, but when he arrived everyone had known him and he was kicked out almost immediately.

He had been walking through the city, looking at the eccentric people and strobing city lights when something had made him stop dead in his tracks. The pain in his chest had been almost unlivable. He clutched his hand to his heart and his legs almost gave out from beneath him.

He stowed away in the alley to his immediate right and slid to the ground, his back hitting the cool brick behind him. He had sat there for a moment, his heart and head pounding loudly when he finally heard it, the moans and groans of someone in the alley with him.

He had half the mind to run and not look back at first, something about the noises were almost inhuman. But then he realised they were groans of pain and that maybe someone was legitimately hurt. He followed the sounds to the back of the alley right near a dumpster. It was dark and he could barely make out the figure of a broad man laying on the ground. The man didn't seem to sense him at first so he bent closer, trying to inspect whomever is laying on the ground.

He suppressed a gasp when he identified who it was, however. In what world would the stars have aligned so that the person he sees is none other than one he would've been fine never meeting again. Harry Potter.

He seemed in miserable shape. His lip cracked, his eye swollen, his pants bloodied. What the hell had happened?

"Potter," he had whispered as if he hadn't known that the man was him. Though Draco had never been more sure of anything. He knew those lips and that body. "Potter," he whispered again, more urgently as there had been no response.

After another moment of silence Draco rolled him to his back, earning a curse and another groan. At least he was alive then.

"Potter!" Draco says angrily. Angry that this has happened to him. "Harry fucking Potter, what the hell are you doing?"

Harry's eyes had been barely open staring at Draco this whole time but at this moment they shut.

"Fucking hell!" Draco yelled loudly, surely arousing the suspicion of anyone that had been around.

Worried that someone might find him and think he was the one that almost killed the saviour of the wizarding world, and also scared to death that Harry might, in fact, be dead, Draco grabbed his arm and apparated to the only place that could be safe at a time like this. Malfoy Manor.

His father had long since left, running from the authorities to avoid time in Azkaban. His mother had been withering away in the mansion all by herself. Draco loved his mother with everything he had, but the mansion brought back vivid nightmares and memories he'd like to forget. He visited her once a month, if only to have tea and catch up and make sure she was okay. The last few times Alex had come along. Draco wasn't sure what his mother would think when he brought a beaten Harry Potter home.

Draco collapsed at the front stoop, Harry's weight crushing him. Draco was strong, yes, but Harry was built and tall making him very hard to hold on to.

Laying him on the step as delicately as possible, Draco rang the doorbell, though really it was useless because as soon as he had put a finger up to the thing, the door was swung open and a house elf was greeting him.

"Master Draco," it greeted, giving a slight bow, not even bothering to asking about the disfigured body at his feet. "I will retrieve your mother."

Draco, too lazy to bother to pick up Harry again, muttered a quick wingardium leviosa, which made Harry float around behind him, as graceless as it was.

As soon as Draco entered the house he had vivid flashbacks of times he'd rather forget. The foyer was large and grey and Draco remembered all the times his father had scolded him right in this very spot.

Draco tries not to get lost in thought and instead focus on the unconscious wizard behind him. When Draco had seen Harry he had looked furious. His hair was wind-whipped and blood caked his face. His eyebrows were drawn together and for the briefest moment Draco didn't know who the wizard before him was. Now he just looked serene, almost dead to be quite frank. Draco wasn't sure which was worse.

His attention shifted as his mother cascaded down the stairs. Age didn't seem to affect her and though she had more wrinkles than the last time Draco had seen her, she still looked like a porcelain doll.

As her eyes landed on Draco they lit up, she was always happy to see him because the occasion was quite rare. She smiled in that beautiful way of hers that made Draco wonder why his smile was always crooked.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs her gaze tore from Draco to Harry. For a moment she looked conflicted, perhaps thinking of the day she lied to the Dark Lord to save him. Then, as though this was a regular occurrence for her, she motioned at Draco to bring Harry towards the kitchen.