“How much of his memory did you take?” Harry hissed at Hexam, as the class practiced shield spells later that day.
Hexam looked startled by the sheer fury in his voice. He stared at Harry for a moment, then said, “see me after class, Mr. Potter.”
As soon as the rest of the class was dismissed, Harry sent Ron and Hermione on to lunch, then stormed up to Hexam’s desk where he sat reading over essays.
“Well?” he demanded. “Draco doesn’t remember anything – he doesn’t remember about Tubbs, which is good, but he doesn’t remember what he and I were beginning to have, which is bad!”
“Harry, the only memory I erased was Tubbs. I have him thinking he passed out just before he summoned your wand. I didn’t need to take anything more,” Hexam said calmly.
“He doesn’t remember!” Harry plonked himself down on a chair and wrung his hands. “I thought... I thought...”
Hexam got up and went over to Harry. He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I swear to you that I took nothing than that which I’ve already said. I’ll take an Unbreakable Vow on it if you wish me to.”
Harry stared at the Defence teacher, seeing nothing but honesty and concern in his eyes. He sighed and shook his head. “How come he’s forgotten then?”
Hexam sat down beside him and took his hands gently. “You have to understand, he was beaten, starved, abused, raped... all those things can do awful things to a mind. There’s a good chance he’s blocked it all out just to keep sane. You just have to be patient.”
“But he...”
“Be patient, Harry. Don’t force anything. Right now he needs a friend – be that friend as much as you can. Maybe later the rest will come back.”
Harry nodded, slumping in his chair. He knew Hexam was right – he had only been looking for someone to blame, knowing damn well that Draco was doing well to be thinking coherently after all he had been through – not just with Tubbs, but through the war.
“I just...” he said uselessly. “I love him.”
Hexam nodded. “I know. I understand. I, too, have loved someone for years and have been unable to say or do anything – but now my own patience has been rewarded – just wait, Harry. It’ll be all right in the end.”
“Are you dating Mrs Malfoy?” Harry asked slyly, a little grin coming to his face.
To his surprise, he saw a light blush come to the professor’s cheeks. “None of your business, Mr. Potter,” he rapped out, but there was a small grin on his lips.
“I hope you’ll be happy.” Harry got to his feet. “She deserves it.” He shook Hexam’s hand, feeling much better suddenly. “Thanks, Professor. I’ll see you later.”
**********
Nothing more came of Tubbs and the aurors. A few more days passed and eventually Hexam called Harry back to inform him that the evidence had been accepted and the case closed. Harry breathed a great sigh of relief. Finally he could relax.
He went to see Draco once more at the infirmary, but the Slytherin was short and uncommunicative – almost like his usual snarky self – not that he had ever stopped being snarky, even when his attitude to Harry had softened.
But Harry, with all the confusion, the mystery, and the happenings of that year so far, had forgotten that he and Malfoy had only ever reached a softening towards each other. Everything had been him – sure, Draco had kissed him once or twice. They had rolled around the bed together. They had even come to regard each other as friends – of a sort – Draco knew how Harry felt, but, he had rejected him almost completely. Harry remembered that time in the storeroom where Draco had denied that there was anything between them to Hermione.
Maybe he was deluding himself. Maybe he should forget about Draco and find someone else he liked. He would have to forget tear-filled grey eyes, soft white-blond hair and pale skin. He would have to stop dreaming of full, pouting lips upon his own. He would have to stop dreaming of Malfoy fingers touching and burning, and think of other things.
Maybe Anthony Goldstein was available after all.
It was easier on him when Hermione informed him that she had seen Mrs Malfoy collecting Draco. A glance at Draco’s empty bed and missing trunk confirmed that Draco had left school without a word to anyone.
“Maybe he’s gone home for Christmas,” Ron said. “Just earlier.”
Harry hoped it was so; he knew that Draco needed more time to recover, yet there was that nagging doubt that he was gone for good. Maybe he had decided not to take his final exams and become a tutor. In some ways, Harry didn’t blame him. Hogwarts probably held horrible memories for him now.
“Any idea what you’re doing for Crimbo, yet?” Ron asked. “You know you’re welcome at ours, although me and Hermione are... well, we’re off to Finland for a couple of days. We need a bit of time alone – you know?”
Of course Harry didn’t begrudge the pair their break, especially not after what had happened that term. They needed that time.
He shrugged. “It’ll seem weird going to the Burrow when you’re not there.”
“Don’t be stupid, Harry!” Ron almost yelled. “You’re welcome any time. You don’t even have to wait to be invited. You’re family now.”
“Thanks Ron. I appreciate it. Tell Molly that I’ll be there.”
“And you can have my room to yourself.” Ron grinned. “Don’t worry. Me and ‘Mione will be back before New Year and we’ll spend that time together.”
************
The Burrow was not as chaotic as other Christmases had been. Ron and Hermione were away. George was busy opening yet another shop, Ginny was away with the Holyhead Harpies. Only Bill and Fleur, Percy and Charlie were there. Nevertheless, Harry appreciated the quieter time. He had room to think, room to take long walks in the countryside around the Burrow. He even went to visit Luna in her rebuilt house, although having sampled her father’s cooking once before, he didn’t stay long after Mr. Lovegood offered him soup.
On Christmas day, he received a jumper from Molly – this one in green and black, for once, ‘to match his eyes,’ she said. He also got a box of Weezes from George, and a dragon’s claw necklace from Charlie. Percy bought him a selection of quills and fine parchment, and there was a note from Ron and Hermione saying they were bringing him a gift from Finland.
They were halfway through a sumptuous and delicious Weasley dinner when a tap on the window brought in a huge, familiar eagle owl. Molly was slightly wary of it, muttering about hoping the owl wasn’t a big bully, but she let it in.
“That’s a Malfoy owl,” Mr. Weasley said. “I remember them from school.”
Harry did too. He immediately took the package the owl held in its huge talons, gave it a little bow, then offered it an owl treat. The owl turned its beak up at the treat and ghosted off, back into the sky.
“Why are the Malfoy’s sending you owls?” Bill asked.
“No idea,” Harry said, but his heart was thumping wildly. Maybe Draco remembered. He ripped open the package and, to his amazement, found a set of beautifully made and designed dress-robes, in that wonderful material that looked dark red in one light and dark green in another. Molly held them against him, exclaiming softly.
“They’re beautiful,” she said. “Is there a note?”
Harry had just found an envelope tucked inside the robe and he opened it, trying to stop his fingers from shaking. The writing there was unfamiliar.
“Dear Mr. Potter,
Please accept these robes as a gift for the season, with my sincere and heartfelt gratitude for all that you have done for Draco.
I would like to invite you to tea on December 26th, at four o’ clock sharp. No need to reply. I will key the wards so that you may apparate into the grounds.
Yours faithfully,
Narcissa Malfoy.”
“She’s invited me to tea,” Harry said numbly.
“You’re not going are you?” Molly asked.
“Of course I am.”
Molly sniffed. “Well, that’s polite of you, I’m sure, but keep on your guard.”
Harry grinned and gave her a hug. “I’ll be fine. Narcissa is a perfectly lovely woman. You should get to know her some time. I think you two would actually get on well.”
“Never!” Molly hissed, but the smile on her face was softer than he expected. She sighed. “Perhaps, once I’ve got this place organised a little better, I’ll invite her over,” she relented.
Harry laughed. “Remember she’s under house arrest.”
“Yes, for being a Death Eater.” Molly’s eyes immediately hardened. She had obviously forgotten.
“Now, now, Molly,” Mr. Weasley said from his chair. “She was never a Death Eater.”
“She had one as a son and as a husband. That makes her guilty by...”
“Mrs. Malfoy saved my life,” Harry said firmly. “I won’t hear a word against her.”
Molly made a ‘hmpph’ noise and waved her wand to clear the plates from the table.
“Who’s for some Celestina Warbeck?” she said brightly, and switched on the radio.
Fleur groaned from the corner.
************
Later, Harry went up to bed, changed into his pyjamas, and was about to visit the bathroom, when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to reveal Charlie.
“Can I talk to you for a bit?” Charlie asked.
“Of course.” Harry let him in and Charlie sat on the single chair in the room. Wondering what he wanted, Harry perched on the bed, looking at him expectantly.
“I’ve been talking to Ron and Hermione,” Charlie said without preamble.
“Oh?”
“Hermione told me what really happened,” Charlie said softly. “She also told me about Draco Malfoy, what happened to him and... how you feel.”
Harry gaped at Charlie. “Why would she do that?”
Charlie smiled. “Possibly because I’m the only other person she trusts who is gay.”
“Oh,” Harry said stupidly, then the sudden thought that maybe Charlie was hitting on him came to him. He opened his mouth, but Charlie held up a hand.
“I’m not coming on to you, Harry. Don’t worry. I’m not so interested in the younger man, besides, I don’t think my partner, Gregor, would like it much. I just want to give you something.” He held out his hand. In it was a small box.
“What’s this?” Harry reached out and took it.
“Open it.”
Harry did so. Inside was a curious, oval shaped pendant, about the size and thickness of a Galleon. As the light hit it, it shone pearly green and blue, then all colours of the rainbow, before turning back to green, depending on how Harry held it in the lamplight. It was held by a delicate silver chain. Harry held it for a moment, admiring it.
“It’s beautiful. What is it?”
“A Dragon’s scale. They’re not very common – especially ones of this size. Once dragon’s die, their skin dulls to a nasty brownish colour, as you know. To get a scale that remains this colour, they have to be taken from a live dragon – and you can imagine that’s not an easy task.
“You took this from a live dragon?” Harry gasped.
Charlie grinned. “I didn’t take. Like Phoenix feathers, they’re rarer, and more precious, and more beautiful if they’re given up voluntarily, to someone who the dragon trusts very much. This one comes from Norberta.”
“It’s stunning.” Harry put the glistening, ever-changing scale back into the box. “Thanks for showing it to me.” He held the box to Charlie.
“It’s for you.”
“But... I can’t take it.”
“Take it, Harry – and give it to Draco.”
“But...”
“I’m not saying anything more.” Charlie stood up. “I suggest earrings for his mother,” he said with a grin, and was out of the door before Harry could say anything more.