“So…you’re married to him?”
Draco looked down at the woman beside him. Petunia had been allowed to accompany him to St. Mungo’s, as he had promised to vouch for her. Since she was Harry’s aunt, and former guardian, there wasn’t much protest. Dudley had been sent off to a boarding school as punishment for how he had treated Harry at his father’s bidding. The boy had been secretly pleased to get away from his overbearing mother, though he put up quite an uproar when he’d heard the news. The news of his father’s death quieted him though.
Now, Petunia was staying at the Weasley’s, a fact she was a bit uncomfortable with given the exuberance of Mrs. Weasley at having a new guest to look after. She didn’t have to spend much time there, however, as every morning, an Auror dropped by to bring her to St. Mungo’s, as requested.
She was adjusting well, considering she was a Muggle in a Wizarding World. But she knew a surprising amount about wizards, no doubt stemming from having a witch for a sister.
After a few days’ time, however, she had begun to question Draco. Why had he come with Harry? Why was he so concerned about the boy? And why was it best for him to remain by Harry’s side as much as possible?
It had come out. Draco had recounted the events that had transpired the past year. Harry and him becoming friends. His capture. Harry’s rescue of him. Their growing affections, and the knowledge that they might be Inima. How it was when they learned they were. Finally…he told about their marriage, and how later that night, Harry won the war, sacrificing himself in the process. Draco explained how he had managed to travel to the Land of the Dead, describing Sirena and her guidance, and how he had brought Harry back. Petunia had taken it all in quietly, and with a calm Draco admired.
“Yes,” he said quietly, looking back through the window that allowed him to see Harry. “We’re married.” His Inima lay there, so lifeless, the only sign of life the glowing numbers that were up on the board by his bed. Occasionally, the numbers would shift then go back. A faint beeping could be heard when in the room, as his vitals were magically monitored. A Mediwitch moved around inside the room, writing down the data and checking things over, before exiting.
“Any change?” Draco asked desperately. The Mediwitch shook her head apologetically, as she continued down the hall.
“You really love him, don’t you?” Petunia murmured. Draco nodded, his eyes pained. “Normally, in the world I live in…the Muggle world…we aren’t as tolerant of same-sex couples. It’s odd, to hear you speak of him like that…but it’s also nice.”
“Love is love. Doesn’t matter if I was a girl, or if Harry was a girl, and the other was male. We’d still love each other. This is a love that transcends any boundaries. I wouldn’t give it up for anything,” Draco sighed.
“But what about kids? Will you adopt?”
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well…there’s this man that wants Harry dead, so that I’ll come to see his way of life. He thought that if Harry became pregnant, it might push me to join him. So he slipped Harry a fertility potion, and well…let’s just say male pregnancy among wizards is not impossible.” Petunia’s mouth slipped open.
“You have a natural born kid?!” she gasped.
“Lily Narcissa Potter,” he said, somewhat proudly. “She’s a beautiful little girl a little less than a month old…”
“Where is she?”
His face dropped. “Our friends are looking after her, until we can get Harry back.” Petunia patted his arm comfortingly.
“We’ll get him back…then I’d like to see your daughter…if you’re okay with that,” she said nervously.
“Of course I’m okay with it. I’m glad you’re okay with the whole thing, actually. I think it will be good for Harry to finally receive acceptance from you. You’re the closest person he has to his mother. He’ll need you.”
She opened her mouth to speak, when Draco suddenly sat upright. His eyes stared fixedly at Harry’s right hand. Had it been his imagination?
No! It hadn’t!
He bolted out of his seat. “Call a nurse,” he said frantically, as he raced into Harry’s room. Harry’s hand was moving, and his eyes were beginning to flutter. “Harry?”
Harry didn’t respond, though his eyes began to open. Faintly, Draco heard Harry’s aunt call for aid, before she rushed in with a doctor and a Mediwitch.
“Good, he’s waking up,” the doctor said. He turned to the Mediwitch. “Take notes on how responsive he is.” She nodded, before moving over to the other side of the bed. Draco had a gentle grip on Harry’s hand, as she bent over.
“Harry, can you hear me?”
“Yeah…” His voice was cracked, but it was Harry. Draco nearly cried with relief.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m thirsty. May I please have some water? I promise I’ll clean up afterwards…”
Draco frowned, leaning forward. That wasn’t Harry…
The Mediwitch seemed to sense the same thing. She glanced at the doctor, who nodded. “Harry, darling, how old are you?” she asked softly.
Draco held his breath.
“Four…”
~ + ~
“Draco, calm down…please. It’s not good for you to be like this,” Petunia pleaded. Draco was pacing back and forth, his hands clutching at his head.
“He doesn’t remember me,” he moaned. “I’m his Inima, and he can’t even remember who I am! He doesn’t know my name or anything! Not that he’s a wizard, not Hermione, not Ron…the only person he knows is you!” With a small, choked sob, he collapsed into a chair in the hallway. Petunia sank down beside him, tentatively putting a soothing arm around his shoulders. “This is all my fault…if I hadn’t brought him…this never would have happened…I’m such an idiot…”
“Draco, it’s not your fault. That’s already been established. No one knew Vernon would react like that…it was an accident. Don’t worry…with time, Harry will remember you. That’s what the doctor said. They’ll just work with him for a week or so, and by then, he should be back to normal…”
“But what if he doesn’t go back?” Draco lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were red rimmed, as he said in a strangled voice, “What if he’s like this forever?”
“Be reasonable. He won’t be four years old forever. With time, he’ll grow, and more memories will come back…”
“But I don’t want him to remember all the bad memories…only the good ones.”
“And what good will that do him?” Draco looked at her with a small frown. Petunia met his gaze evenly. “Draco, if you had no bad memories…how would you be able to tell what a good memory was?” Made some sense… “If Harry had no bad memories, he wouldn’t be the young man he is today. He wouldn’t be the man you married. I have no doubt that every bad memory, as horrific as some were, helped to shape his personality, and give him the courage, kindness, and loving manner that is evident in the events you told me about. Without them, he would not be the same person.”
Draco sighed. “But they hurt him…I can’t stand to see the pain and fear when he remembers…I hate how he has to fight it alone…”
“But he’s not alone. He has you. Yes, they’re painful and terrifying. But he has you to help him through it all. Now, he needs your help once more.”
“How can I help him remember?”
“Talk to him. Tell him stories. With time, they’ll turn from stories into memories, that he can remember.” Draco was amazed.
“That’s actually a good idea,” he admitted. “I’ll do that. Thank you.” She nodded with a small, sad smile on her face.
“Go on then. You confused him when you ran from the room.” Draco stood, then hesitated, before swooping down and hugging her tightly.
“Thank you…”
“You’re welcome. I just wish I could do more…to make up for…all those years.”
Draco held her at arm’s length. “You already are. This means a lot to me, and it will to Harry. Thank you.”
With that, he returned to Harry’s room, a bright smile on his face. Time to start his Inima on the healing path to recovery.
~ + ~
“And that’s where I am?” Harry’s eyes were large, and Draco had to remind himself that Harry wasn’t all there yet. “I’m in a magic hospital?”
“That’s right…and the doctors wave their magic sticks around. Do you remember what that’s called?”
“That’s a wand!”
“Good job,” Draco praised. It wasn’t too difficult, talking to someone who had the mind of a four year old. Harry beamed. “And you know what Harry? You have a magic stick of your own too! They gave it to you a long time ago…you just don’t remember. But you’re a wizard too. You can do magic, a lot better than some adults can.”
“Really? But I don’t know any spells…”
“You just don’t remember them right now.” Draco sighed.
“Draco? Why am I here? Why do I need a magic doctor? Won’t Uncle Vernon get mad? He doesn’t like anything that’s weird or freaky. That’s why he doesn’t like me. I’m a freak.” It was said so matter-of-factly, yet it broke Draco’s heart.
“No, Harry, you’re not a freak. You’re special. And well…Uncle Vernon isn’t here anymore. He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Just…gone. You won’t see him anymore. It’s just you and Aunt Petunia. Dudley went to a boarding school.” Harry nodded in childlike understanding. “You’re here because…well…you got sick the other day. Your mind and body just couldn’t cope with the pressure that was put on you…so you fell asleep for a few days. And you forgot a lot of things.” Draco felt a lump in his throat.
“Were they important?”
Yes… “Well, we don’t really know. They’re your memories. You know what will help the doctors, Harry?”
“What?”
“If you try to remember. The doctors say that if you ever feel like you’re dreaming, or remembering something, not to get distracted, but focus on that.”
Harry was staring up at him in awe. “I will,” he said adamantly. “I’ll help the doctors so I won’t be sick no more.” Draco cracked a smile. Harry was adorable when he was four.
“Tell me a story,” Harry murmured a few minutes later. His eyes were beginning to droop, but he rubbed them with one tired fist. “I want a story. Tell me something I don’t remember.”
Draco sighed. “Alright.”
With that, he launched into a tale of happier times when he, Harry, and their friends played a friendly Quidditch match. Back, before all the darkness began to overtake them… Way back, near the very beginning.
~ + ~
As the week progressed, Harry began to remember things. First, it was a simple memory. Who are Ron and Hermione? he had asked. How old is that man with the long white beard? What is his name?
Slowly, images came to him, and memories began to link together. Harry’s mental age was now rapidly growing, as he began to relive first year, second year, third year, and so on. As the happy memories returned, so did the bad. Draco found himself comforting Harry more and more often, as the memories were relived as night terrors. Not even Dreamless Sleep potions would stop the abrupt jerk into awareness, as Harry screamed in horror and pain. Some nights were worse than others, and Draco would hold the sobbing boy for hours, until he had calmed.
Finally, came the question Draco had been both hoping for and dreading.
One afternoon, almost two weeks after Harry had awoken, Draco was reading in a chair near Harry’s bed, as Harry leafed through the photo album Hermione had given him for his birthday, though he didn’t remember.
“Draco? Why aren’t you in many of these?”
Draco looked up. “Hm?”
“Well, Ron and Hermione are in most of them…it’s only once I’m way older that I have any with you.” Harry frowned. He had just reached fifth year mentally, and Draco knew he didn’t have the memories yet. “Actually, come to think of it…I only seem to remember you in a bad way. I don’t have any good memories. Yet that doesn’t make sense…why are you here with me? I thought we didn’t like each other…”
Draco sighed, closing his book and setting it aside. He clasped his hands together nervously. “Well…we didn’t.” Harry looked confused. “We actually hated each other, for no real reason. I was a Slytherin, you were a Gryffindor. It was just wrong to be friends. And, well…we didn’t agree on a lot of things.”
“So what changed?”
“A lot. You won’t remember this until later…but the following year…you tried to commit suicide.” Harry’s eyes widened. “I discovered you, and got help before it was too late. I didn’t know why I did what I did at the time…but out of the whole experience, we became friends. Eventually, our friends warmed up to each other as well. We had a lot of difficulties…but our friendship grew. Soon, we were best friends. After one incident with the Dark lord, you stopped me from trying to kill myself. We learned that there was a spy, but we didn’t know who…all we had was each other.” Draco swallowed thickly, remembering that night.
The night everything had changed…
He could remember gazing into Harry’s emerald green eyes, as Harry’s hand latched on to his arm, stopping the plummet from the tower. That was the night their friendship was sealed forever.
“We grew closer, and our friends grew closer as well. On a trip to Hogsmeade, however…we were separated, and I was captured. But you rescued me before they killed me…and it was then that you revealed something to me. Dumbledore had first discovered this…”
“What was it?” Harry’s eyes were riveted on Draco. The blonde slowly lifted his gaze to meet Harry’s.
“That we were Inimae. Soulmates.” Harry recoiled in surprise.
“But I’m not gay!” His eyes narrowed. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?”
“What?” Draco stammered. “No!”
“Yes you are! You’re trying to mess with my mind, aren’t you, Malfoy? Well, I won’t stand for it! I’m not going to sit here and be made a fool of.” Harry crossed his arms. “Bunch of bogus…best friends and all that jazz…that part was believable, I’ll give you that. But this whole Inimae thing…soulmates? I’ll bet you just made that word up! I’ve never heard of Inimae.” He rolled his eyes. “You sicken me, Malfoy. Trying to do whatever it is you’re plotting to do…that’s what this was, huh? Trying to gain my trust, then make a fool of me? I don’t think so!”
“Harry, I-”
“Get out. And don’t call me Harry. If Ron and Hermione knew about this…”
“Ron is dead, Harry!” Draco was standing now, pain from his Inima’s rejection stabbing into his chest and making it hard to breathe. Harry blanched.
“What?”
“He died a year ago…but you can’t remember it! You can’t remember anything that happened…all we went through…everything…you don’t remember his death, you don’t remember the Dark lord’s…you don’t even remember your own death!”
Harry was staring wide-eyed at him now, as Draco began to crumble. “You don’t even remember me,” he whispered.
“Get out.” Harry’s eyes were cold. “You’re a liar. I thought maybe you had changed, Malfoy…but guess not. Next time, try to come up with a good lie. One that I’ll believe. Now get out, before I get the nurse.”
Draco stumbled backwards, blindly reaching for the doorframe. “Harry,” he whispered. He reached out with his mind, but there was a foggy haze that blocked his mind from Harry’s. He couldn’t reach him. Not even Harry’s emotions were coming through…they hadn’t come through ever since the incident.
“Get out of here, Malfoy!”
With a strangled sob, Draco tore through the hallway, making his way to the lobby, before Apparating away.
He Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts, needing to get somewhere in particular. He went unnoticed because of a Notice-Me-Not charm, as he ran across the grounds. Soon, he was beside the tree. His tree. Our tree.
Tears began to flow from his eyes, and he dropped to the ground, his back against the tree, as he buried his head in his arms. Sobs tore from his throat, as he began to mourn the bond that was now seemingly lost between him and Harry.
Harry…oh Harry…I’m so sorry. You have to come back…please…I can’t live without you…
But, as it had been for the past two weeks, there was nothing but silence. Draco was alone, as he cried for his lost Inima.