Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Nothing, Everything	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10224 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Author's note: So this story was supposed to be finished with this chapter. However, I realised that if I wrote until everything was written then I wouldn't be able to post this story on time. Considering I've already written quite a long chapter, I've decided to post this now. The actual end of the story will be posted in the next chapter, so this story will definitely be finished with the next chapter.
Thanks to the following reviewers: goddess-of_dragons; Kain (They couldn't get their hands on Lucius as he stays mostly in the manor; he barely goes outside); Thunderbird (Thank you so much!); Book_addict_89; SickPuppy; Jan
Warnings: hm, angst I suppose; small time skips
I hope you'll like it!
Chapter 14
He was drifting in and out of the blackness; his ears picking up snippets of sounds.
"… lost a lot of blood."
"How many bones did they …"
"… shattered, so we should …"
" … Blood Replenishing Potions now!"
"He's not reacting, what …"
" …. collapsed lung, so …"
"Maybe we should …"
His body was jolted when hands grabbed him and fiery pain seized him, burning through every cell.
He blacked out, welcoming the soothing sensation of nothingness.
There was a hand resting on his; the warmth and weight of it registering faintly. Someone was talking to him, but he couldn't make out the words. It was a stream of sounds, washing over him like a wave.
He wanted to react, wanted to move his fingers, open his mouth, let the other one know he was still there. But nothing happened.
Instead he slipped away once more, the darkness enticing him back, and for one brief moment he panicked this would be the last time he would be semi awake. He didn't want to die, didn't want to leave, didn't want …
Nothing.
Darkness. Drifting around aimlessly. Pain long forgotten. Memories started fading away slowly, unravelling like threads, never to be seen again.
He would turn into nothing soon. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. The darkness would embrace him, swallow him up, and then he wouldn't feel anything anymore.
No pain, no loss, no heartbreak …
He continued drifting.
"For now, try to rest as much as possible. A Mediwitch will give you a Pain Soothing Potion in two hours again," the Healer said and after a brief nod, the greying wizard left the room.
Stone grey eyes, set deeply in his eye sockets, slipped away from the door and came to rest on bandage covered hands. His hands were completely swaddled in white bandages, not allowing any sort of movement of his fingers. The bandages were also wrapped around his arms, his chest, his stomach, his legs …
Only his face remained relatively free of the sterile, white cloth.
He reeked of various potions; their combined smells hanging like a cloud of stench around him. There was green-yellowish paste covering the cuts on his face, arms and legs; a bluish cream rubbed into his multitude of bruises. Thick, grainy, dark purple pap was slathered across his large, open wounds, protected from the air through thick bandages. The pap was meant to disinfect and encourage the growing of his cells, so that he wouldn't keep bleeding out.
He had been given Blood Replenishing Potions; Bone Regrowth Draughts; Muscle Relaxers; Pain Relief Potions; a Reversion Draught, meant to undo the damage the Cruciatus Curse had inflicted upon him …
Even with all the potions being given at different hours, there was still that sensation of slight wooziness and if he turned his head too quickly, the whole room would start spinning around.
He would be bedbound for an indefinite period of time while his magic and the potions tried to undo the damage of the torture. The Healer hadn't been able to tell him yet whether he would have scars or not.
Today was the first time he had woken up since they had grabbed him. He had been in a coma for a week; his body trying to heal most of the damage before he would regain consciousness.
He hadn't expected to wake up again.
He knew his injuries had been quite extensive – extensive enough to die from them and honestly? He wouldn't have minded.
Not after regaining his memories and realising just how badly he had hurt Harry, how he had fucked up.
"You're awake."
Grey eyes opened and Draco raised his head carefully. "I am," he murmured, watching wearily how Weasley entered the room completely, dressed in the dark red Auror robes. No other Auror followed him.
Weasley took a seat on Draco's left; his face looking both grim and exhausted at the same time. "We caught everyone. None of the 'Band of the Rising Phoenix' escaped," he informed the blond with a rather impressive sneer.
"Where are they now?" Draco asked; his voice rusty from disuse. Drinking water had helped a bit, but it would probably be a couple of more days before his throat would stop feeling like he had swallowed needles.
"In holding cells at the Ministry," Weasley replied; his eyes darkening for a moment. "The Wizengamot is trying to figure out how they will organise the trial."
"Let me guess: they're not in a hurry considering who the victims are?" Draco smiled sardonically and turned his head briefly to cough. When he looked back at the ginger haired man, the Auror was grimacing.
"Sounds about right, yeah," he said grimly. Belatedly he added, "How are you feeling?"
"I've had better days," Draco admitted wryly, folding his bandaged hands on top of each other on his lap.
Weasley winced. "Yeah, I can imagine that," he muttered and looked away for a few seconds, running a hand through his hair. He released a sigh and turned around again to face the blond man. "Considering we were literally there, it shouldn't be necessary, but they'll be on my case if I don't do this according to the rules. I need you to give me your testimony about what happened to you after you left the manor."
Draco thought about refusing, stating he would give it on another day, but really, what would it matter? Whether he gave his testimony today or later this week, nothing would change.
It had happened and he would just have to deal with it.
So he opened his mouth and the words came out haltingly, his mind flashing back to Knockturn Alley, to being knocked out and waking up in a strange room. His fingers wanted to twitch when he started talking about the torture, but they were swaddled so tightly, he might as well have been hit with a local Body-Bind Curse. He stared down at the blankets covering him up to his stomach, recounting every curse, every hex and spell he could remember them using. Maybe he had forgotten some; it wasn't as if he had been fully conscious by the time they deemed the torture over.
And then – the memories. Getting them back.
The quill stopped writing almost as soon as Draco closed his mouth; the sudden silence ringing loudly. There was some noise in the hallway; Healers and Mediwitches and Mediwizards bustling around, taking care of other patients on this floor. A burst of laughter could be heard somewhere down the corridor and then a door slamming shut. The sheets of parchment, on which his testimony was written down, crinkled as they were gathered.
Weasley cleared his throat, appearing a tad uncomfortable when he inquired, "So you have all your memories back?"
"All of them, yes," Draco confirmed flatly; trying to ignore the painful squeeze his heart gave.
"Right." Weasley nodded uneasily and cleared his throat again; the sharp noise grating on Draco's ears.
"How did – how did you find me?" Draco asked after a moment of hesitation. That question had been floating around in his mind for a while. He had told nobody that he had gone to Knockturn Alley and had even used a spell to ensure his absence wouldn't be noticed for a couple of hours. How could they have found him that quickly?
Weasley blinked, leaning back in the chair. "Your mother wanted to speak to you, but you didn't reply. Eric figured you had fallen asleep, but when you didn't answer their knocking, they opened the door and noticed you were gone. Ally picked up what kind of spell you had used – a clever one by the way. Eric is one of the best when it comes to reading magical signatures and your spell had fooled him."
Draco couldn't even find it in him to be proud of that accomplishment.
"Anyway, as soon as they realised you were gone, they alerted the office."
"But you didn't know where I had gone to," Draco pointed out, frowning. He paid no attention to the way the skin on his forehead was pulled tight with the action. "I don't think I was there for several days either, right?"
"Around seven hours before we found you," Weasley replied neutral. He sighed and tapped his quill on the arm of the chair. "There was a Tracking Charm on you. The second we've figured out you were gone, we used that charm to locate you."
A Tracking Charm? How had he not noticed the presence of that one on his body? "Who cast the charm on me?" he asked bemused, wondering whether it had been one of his bodyguards. They certainly had spent ample time with him these past two months.
Weasley pursed his lips together and narrowed his eyes slightly, looking as if he was debating with himself.
A spike of impatience shot through Draco. "Weasley, who put the charm on me?" he repeated his question, faintly annoyed.
"Harry did."
His breath caught and for a moment no sound left his throat. He swallowed with some difficulty and asked, "When – when did he do that?"
"The last time you saw each other. During the attack in Diagon Alley," Weasley murmured, studying the blond wizard intently.
Despite everything Draco had done and said, Harry had still thought about his safety and had used a Tracking Charm on him? A year before, he would have been annoyed, even angry, at having his privacy invaded as such. He wasn't a small child anymore who needed to be Tracked and kept under close watch. But it was thanks to the charm that they had found him before they could deliver the final blow. Without that charm …
He probably would have ended up on Harry's doorstep, just like the other victims.
He looked away, shame and guilt colouring his voice when he inquired, "How is – how is he?"
"He's … fine. Still resting. Got a month left before he comes back to work." It was to his credit that he didn't sound gloating or attempted to attack Draco for acting like a major twat towards his best friend.
"But – he was there. In the room. When you found me," Draco spoke haltingly. For the first time he questioned whether he hadn't just imagined Harry being there. He was on leave until the end of February and had a baby to take care of – there was no reason for him to have been there when they found Draco. He wouldn't have been at the office when the Aurors were alerted.
Had the torture addled his brain so much that he had imagined Harry rescuing him?
"He was there, yes. I had Floo called him so that he could activate the Tracking Charm and he insisted on coming with us." The look on Weasley's face showed clearly what he thought of that particular insistence.
"Oh," Draco uttered stumped. Why would Harry have insisted on that after all he had done? Then another thought shot through his mind and he whipped his head around to face Weasley, hissing softly when a bolt of pain spiked through his neck. "But what about - "
"Your parents babysat him," Weasley replied, knowing who Draco was referring to immediately.
Which was good, because guilt flared up once more when he realised that he didn't even know his son's name. How much of an arsehole could someone be when they even refused to know their child's name? How could he have ever acted like that?
"Harry wouldn't have left you to die. Not on his watch," Weasley murmured, picking at a thread on his right sleeve.
Draco laughed humourlessly and his chest protested. Wincing he rubbed over his chest and uttered through a wheeze, "Maybe he should have."
"I'm not going to say that you shouldn't feel guilty, because you should, after acting like an arse for months," Weasley stated frankly. "But it wasn't completely your fault either. If blame is thrown around, the curse – and by extension that group – should get most of the blame."
Draco shook his head, ignoring how his entire body protested. "Not really. I could have fought the curse, I could have tried harder to resist, but I didn't and - "
"Do you know how the curse operates, Malfoy?" Weasley cut him off, leaning forwards with his hands clasped together. The quill and the parchment was discarded on the nightstand.
"They said it mostly fed on the aversity of the cursed combined with the love," Draco muttered, crossing his arms even though his muscles ached.
"Not completely true." The older man shook his head. "We asked our Curse Specialist about it. It actually feeds on the love the cursed one feels. Aversity is only a small component that's used by the curse."
"What are you saying, Weasley?" Draco furrowed his eyebrows. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but notice that this was the first time they had a long decent conversation without it resulting into shouting or insults.
"The Specialist explained that the stronger the love, the more the curse feeds on it. Basically, the fiercer you love, the harder the curse will be able to strike," Weasley explained softly, regarding him with some pity. "Because they took all your good memories of Harry away, leaving only the ones with your school rivalry behind, the curse could fester as much as it wanted. It could use both your love for him and the bad memories you have. It's why you were affected so badly compared to some of the others."
Grey eyes stared at the sheets as his mind tried to comprehend what he had just been told. So the curse had managed to succeed precisely because he loved Harry?
It didn't make him feel better. If anything, it made him feel worse. He should have tried harder to fight against the curse's influence, should have attempted to get to know Harry instead of pushing him away.
If he had, maybe he would still have Harry then and he wouldn't have missed his son's birth or his first cry or even his first smile. Maybe he wouldn't have to wonder now what the name of his own son was and whether or not he would be able to meet him and see him grow up.
"Neither of us suspected they had used another curse on you aside from stealing your memories," Weasley continued and he sounded frustrated. "The Specialist told us that this curse is developed to remain hidden unless you know what to search for, but we should have realised something was wrong! Harry kept saying something wasn't right, but we just couldn't figure out what!" Agitatedly he ran his hand through his hair, causing some strands to stick up ridiculously.
"How could you have figured it out when I was doing my best to avoid you all?" Draco remarked flatly. He let the pillows behind him catch more of his weight, alleviating the strain on his muscles.
Weasley opened his mouth – whether to protest or say something else, Draco didn't know – at the same moment a knock sounded on the door.
Was it already time for the next potion? Carefully he turned his head in the direction of the door and called out, "Yes?"
Immediately the door swung open, revealing mother with her face drawn; her mouth pinched. As soon as her eyes fell on Draco, her face brightened, losing the traces of stress. She hurried towards him, closely followed by father. The only sign that he was relieved to see his only son awake was the way his fingers relaxed almost imperceptibly around his cane.
"I'll, eh, I'll give you some privacy," Weasley muttered and practically scuttled out of the room, avoiding Lucius' gaze.
Mother pressed a careful kiss on his forehead and gripped his left hand as she sank down on the chair Weasley had abandoned just now. "I'm glad to see you're finally awake, my dragon," she murmured.
"The Healers weren't much of a help when it came to telling us when you would wake up," Father sneered, coming to a halt at the foot end of the bed.
Their concern for him, even after the way he had acted for the past months, hit him out of nowhere suddenly and before he could stop them, tears sprung up and left a fiery trail down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry," he brought out; a lump blocking his throat. "I'm sorry for how – for how I've been."
"The Aurors told us what kind of curse they put on you," Mother said softly; her own eyes glistening in a peculiar way. "We wish we would have realised sooner that something else was going on aside from the memory loss."
Draco shook his head, feeling dizzy, but not caring, and shuddered. "Not your fault. I should have fought harder against it, instead of - "
"Son, it's all right," Father interrupted him. He looked pale, his eyes hard, but there was no judgement in them.
That only caused the guilt Draco felt to grow even bigger and he drew his shoulders up, even though that only caused his entire back to scream in protest.
"You're our son, Draco. We're always going to love you, no matter what happens," Mother said firmly and stood up, leaning forwards to embrace him, enveloping him in her soothing scent.
At once he was transported back to the night he had accepted the Dark Mark; his mother looking pale, angry and worried at the same time. After berating him for making such a stupid decision, she had pulled him in her arms and hugged him fiercely, promising everything would be all right and that no matter what he did, she would always love him.
He wrapped his arms around her as best as he could, not caring that he was probably extending the time he would have to stay in bed because he kept exhausting himself, and hugged her back as tightly as his body allowed. Hiding his face against her shoulder made him feel like a child again when he had had a nightmare and needed mother to reassure him that nothing bad was going to happen.
She wouldn't be able to chase away the nightmares this time, but that didn't stop him from soaking in her comfort – whether he deserved it or not.
"We're here," she whispered and there was the solid weight of father resting his hand on Draco's right leg.
Draco closed his eyes, trembling slightly.
For today, for now, he would let himself believe everything would be okay.
Here, surrounded by the love of his parents.
He was discharged on the twenty-eight of February; his injuries deemed healed enough that he wouldn't collapse the moment he went home.
The only visitors during his time at the hospital had been his parents and Weasley. His mother had visited him every day; father accompanying her every three days. Weasley's visits had been kept to three in the whole month Draco had been there. His visits had been short, mainly to confirm something one of the attackers had mentioned and to inform Draco there was a guard outside the room day and night just in case anyone got ideas.
He never mentioned Harry nor the baby.
During Weasley's third visit a week before Draco was released, he asked the Auror a question which had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while.
"Did you ever find any links between Astoria and the group?" Draco inquired, idly poking the jelly like substance on his plate. His fingers were finally freed from the bandages and he could finally move them around once more. They still felt rather stiff, but the Healer had assured him that would disappear soon the more he moved them.
Weasley appeared taken aback. He had been on the verge of leaving when the question had escaped the blond's mouth. "No, we haven't," he answered eventually. "At least not any substantial evidence that would prove her involvement without a doubt." He peered at Draco. "Why?"
"I wondered why she hasn't shown up yet. I sent her a letter, but her sister replied, stating Astoria had left for some kind of conference somewhere in Europe," Draco replied, pushing the plate away with a grimace. It was as if the hospital wasn't even trying anymore with their food.
Instantly Weasley became alert, like a Manticore which had caught the scent of its victim. "You think she has something to do with this?" he asked tensed.
Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I just think it's peculiar she hasn't shown up yet, for someone who agreed to being courted," he answered idly.
A stilted pause fell in the room.
"Do you want to see her?" Weasley questioned carefully; his hands hidden in his pockets.
"No. Any interest I had disappeared along with the curse," Draco said, lying back down. A Curse Specialist of the Ministry, one Mary Gold, had examined him a week ago and had declared all traces of the curse gone.
He should feel relieved, but he just felt empty.
"Do you think the curse had something to do with your interest in her?" Weasley asked intrigued, leaning forwards a bit.
"I don't know," the blond wizard replied wearily. "I only know that I have absolutely no interest in her now."
Which came too late, he knew. The damage had already been done. Not for the first time he asked himself why on earth he had ever thought it had been a good idea to start courting Astoria again. He had ended the first courtship for a very good reason after all.
Weasley hummed thoughtfully and then narrowed his eyes and nodded sharply. "Thanks, Malfoy. I'll see if we can track her down." He strode out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind him.
Maybe Astoria had something to do with his attack after all, maybe she didn't. He couldn't find it in him to care about her. If she did have something to do with it and she came near him again, well … He had been helpless against the Band of the Rising Phoenix, but he wouldn't be helpless against her.
He closed his eyes and pulled the sheets higher over his chest, allowing the Sleeping Draught he had taken right before Weasley visited him to do its work.
Hoping it would make him forget for a least a while the ache inside of him that grew with each day that passed without him coming for a visit.
For a week after he had returned to the manor, he debated whether or not he should reach out. He desperately wanted to talk to him, to get the chance to apologise and try to make things right again.
To finally see his son.
He realised he had given up every right he had to see him or their son after the way he had acted for months, but he had always been selfish. He wanted nothing more than to return to the time when everything had still been okay and the worst fight they had was whether or not they would continue the Malfoy tradition of giving their children names of Greek origin.
He knew they couldn't go back to that time. Too much had happened between them; things that weren't easy to forget nor forgive.
It was just …
He missed him. He longed to see him again, to talk with him, to touch him … He wanted to see those beautiful, deep green eyes again, hear that warm laugh. He wanted to hold his son for the first time, take in how he looked like, get to know him.
He feared he would never get to have all that again, but …
He needed to try.
His breath left him in a measured exhale as he leant back in his chair and reread what he had written down after a painstaking two hours of crossing words out and rewriting and editing sentences.
'Dear Harry,
I know I do not have the right any longer to contact you after what I have said to you these past few months.
I understand completely if you wish to never speak or listen to me ever again after what happened. I have always been rather selfish, however, as you surely remember, and I wish to have the chance to offer my apologies. To talk about what happened.
Should you decide you do not want to contact me, I will respect your wishes.
Please let me know if and where you want to talk.
All my l ...
Draco'
Draco cringed when he finished reading the letter and he barely resisted the urge to crumple it and set it on fire – as had been the fate of the previous attempts. The letter sounded awfully standoffish and much too polite for the relation they shared, but how else could he write it? Too familiar and he would give off the impression that he didn't care about the things he had said and done. Not to mention he no longer had the right to act familiar.
"Damn it," he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.
He didn't even know whether it was appropriate to put 'dear' as the greeting, but just Harry's name had sounded so cold. Writing a letter had never been so difficult before.
After waffling for a moment longer, he folded the letter and stood up. He could keep rewriting the letter, but in the end all that would accomplish was putting off the possible confrontation. He strode out of his room and made his way to the small room in the east wing, which served as their personal owlery. After descending and ascended a few staircases, passing various house elves in the middle of their tasks, he pushed open the wooden door of the owlery and was instantly created by a cacophony of hooting and chirping.
Through the mass of feathers, Draco spotted his eagle owl, whose head turned when he picked up his owner's footsteps. He was sitting on his perch near a window, furthest located from the door.
"I need you to bring this letter to Harry, okay?" Draco said, tying the letter to the offered paw. His owl nipped him gently on his finger and spread his wings, flying away as soon as Draco opened the window.
Either Harry would answer or he would not. It was out of his hands now.
Taking a deep breath, he left the owlery and walked all the way back. Instead of going to his room, however, he descended the last few staircases, ending in the grand hallway. He passed mother on his way to the foyer, who halted; her sea green robes rustling faintly.
"Are you going somewhere, Draco?" she asked curiously; the weak sunlight streaming through the window on the landing making her hair glisten like gold.
He offered her a terse smile. "I'm going to see whether I've burnt all my bridges with my friends," he admitted; his stomach flipping upside down at the thought of confronting Blaise and Pansy after so long.
They hadn't visited him at the hospital, but then, he hadn't expected them to. They had been more than clear about what they thought of him the last time he saw them.
Mother offered no consolations in the form of "Everything will be all right." which he appreciated. Instead she kissed his cheek and wrapped her fingers around his right wrist for a moment before she walked upstairs.
It was when he was standing in front of the fireplace, a pinch of Floo powder between his fingers, that realisation dawned upon him that Blaise and Pansy might have blocked their Floo for him after their last confrontation.
With a swear he threw the powder back into the jar and marched out of the foyer, into the hallway, through the front door and down the long road to the gates. As soon as he was past the wards, he Apparated, appearing right in front of Pansy's home.
Ever since Pansy had bought a house for herself, it had become a tradition for the three of them to meet up every Thursday unless work prevented them. If Blaise wasn't out of the country now for his work, he should be here today.
For a moment he stood there, wondering what the hell he was doing here. Would they give him a chance to talk and apologise to them? Would it perhaps be better to just leave things be and return home?
But no. The curse had been intent on isolating him, turning even his best friends against him, and he knew that a large part of that was his own fault. He also knew that if he left now, he would forever wonder whether their friendship still had been salvageable if he had just had the balls to take the first step.
Well, he had been a coward before, but he was done being one now. After today he would know whether he could still have the right to call them his friends. It was all in his hands now.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, praying he wouldn't throw up, he raised his fist and knocked on the door.
"You have something to say?" Pansy asked coolly, waving him inside.
One of her house elves had let him inside, announcing his arrival afterwards. The elf must have received the okay, because it had guided him to Pansy's living room, where she and Blaise were sharing the comfortable couch; each holding a glass of Firewhiskey.
"I have," Draco agreed and swallowed; the warmth of the room prickling his skin. He slipped his wand out of his pocket and at once Blaise and Pansy tensed up, their hands landing on their own wands. Before they could utter a spell, he placed his wand on the table and took a step aside, putting distance between the magical tool and him.
"What are you doing, Draco?" Blaise questioned warily; his dark eyes shooting back and forth between the wand and the blond wizard.
"I came to apologise. I've been acting like an absolute git for the past few months," Draco began; his hands started to feel clammy and he shoved them inside his pockets. "You have every right to be angry at me."
"Damn right we do," Pansy growled, narrowing her eyes.
"I should have listened to what you had to say, but I didn't. Nothing excuses my behaviour, but I want to say – I'm sorry. I'm sorry for acting like that. I'm sorry for not being the friend I was supposed to be." He took a shuddering breath, shaking his head and blinking rapidly, before he continued, "If you want to hex me, go ahead. I won't stop you. I just – I hope you can forgive me eventually and … I hope I didn't completely screw up my chances of being friends with you again."
"Damn it, Draco," Pansy groaned, leaning her head back against the couch as she rubbed her fingers across her temples. "How am I supposed to stay pissed at you when you apologise like that? You sound so fucking sincere."
"Because I'm really sorry. I mean it, Pansy. I'm sorry for wanting to listen to you and for pushing you away," Draco said, hunching his shoulders slightly. The urge to flee and not face the potential rejection was growing with each second, but he forced himself to keep standing there. "You too, Blaise. I'm sorry for the things I said about – about you and Harry. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, you shouldn't have," Blaise agreed calmly, relaxing against the arm of the couch. He cocked his head to the right, studying the other man. "You're not referring to him as Potter anymore – finally come to your senses?"
"I – during the attack there was apparently another curse cast on me. The Cor Diverbero Curse. It – the curse is apparently meant to turn everyone against me eventually through my own behaviour." Draco shook his head and straightened his shoulders. "I'm not using it as an excuse. I shouldn't have said all those things and I'm here to apologise for them."
"Do you have your memories back?" Pansy asked, leaning forwards with narrowed eyes.
"I do."
Her eyes widened considerably, clearly not having expected the answer. "What? When? Did you just get them back like that?" She snapped her fingers.
He pressed his lips together; a shiver of fear dancing over his spine as he sank back into the dark memories of that day. He still had nightmares about it, expecting every time he woke up to find himself back into that room, being tortured again and again.
"Draco?" Pansy called out softly; her eyebrows furrowed.
He blinked and shook off the daze he had fallen in. "Sorry. I was … The group who attacked me during the summer found me again a month ago. They – they gave me my memories back."
"Wait," Blaise said slowly; his face gaining that particular look he always did when he was on the verge of figuring something out. "Are you talking about the Band of the Rising Phoenix? The newspapers talked about them for a few weeks."
"Them, yes," Draco admitted, clenching his hands into fists. He hated them for what they had done to him, hated them for the fear they still managed to inspire in him despite being locked up.
He hated them for taking his joy and love away.
Pansy clapped a hand over her mouth, looking at him with wide, upset eyes. "Oh, Draco," she breathed out; her eyes darting over his form.
Right away he knew she knew that he had been tortured. Judging by the dark look in Blaise's eyes he knew as well.
Draco cleared his throat. "I, eh, I've been in the hospital for a month to recover, but I'm fine now." Well, aside from the nightmares, a couple of scars on his stomach and back and the way his muscles still ached sometimes. He was much better off than before, though. He was lucky to be still alive.
"I came here to say sorry to you and to ask for your forgiveness. The offer to hex me still stands." He risked a weak smile, though his stomach rolled and flipped; nausea slumbering.
Blaise shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "You weren't the only one at fault, Draco," he sighed, looking up at the blond man. "We didn't deal well with the fact that you had lost your memories. We shouldn't have pushed you that much to talk with Harry. It's just … We knew how happy you were with him and we didn't want you to lose that. But we should have been more understanding. For that I'm sorry."
"Granted, you were still a major arse," Pansy piped up, tapping her pink painted nails against her glass. "And the offer to hex you is very tempting, I promise, especially after the shit you pulled with Greengrass, but … Blaise is right," she conceded begrudgingly. "We were – we were pushing you too much, given the circumstances. We should have given you more time to get used to everything again instead of expecting you to just accept everything. I'm sorry too." The last words were nearly inaudible and she looked away uncomfortably.
If possible, she had a lot more trouble apologising to someone than Draco had; she had granted him something not many people got to hear.
"Do you think – can you forgive me?" Draco asked; his voice smaller than he would have liked. He was embarrassed, sounding like a child begging for approval, but he didn't know what he would do if he lost them as his friends as well.
Harry might be lost to him forever – would he lose Pansy and Blaise too?
Pansy suddenly rose up and shocked him by embracing him fiercely. "You're an idiot," she hissed; her hug so tight it seemed as if she was trying to crush his ribs. Then her embrace loosened and she relaxed against him. "We'll figure it out. We've weathered worse storms."
"We did," Blaise agreed easily.
Relief crashed over him like a huge wave and he hid his face in her dark hair, hugging her back.
Despite everything, he still had them. Maybe not everything was lost yet.
AN2: This chapter was a lot more difficult to write than expected. I mean, I knew what I wanted to write, but actually putting it in the right words on paper ... That was definitely more difficult than anticipated. The amount of rewriting I did ... I hope it doesn't come across as rushed :/
So I sincerely hope it isn't too bad! The next chapter will finally be the end of this story - this time I seriously mean it.
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
The final chapter will be posted on the first of December.
Cuddles
Melissa
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