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In Loco Parentis	By : Phoenixstrike Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16795 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all identifiable characters are copyright of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scolastic and Warner Brothers. This fanfiction is for entertainment only and makes no money. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter List
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Chapter Two: Malfoy?

Harry felt both freezing and boiling at the same time, as the world began to swim in front of his eyes. He felt himself clutch the wall for support. The man on the floor was far too thin, his hair filthy and matted to his head, his clothing dirty and torn. But the pointed, aristocratic features, and the slight magical presence coming from him left Harry in absolutely no doubt that after five years of being presumed dead, Draco Malfoy had been found alive. He felt his body begin to tremble violently.

“Harry, what did...?” Hermione began, but the words died in her throat when the ashen face of Harry turned towards her. “Oh my goodness, it’s him, isn’t it?” she said, her voice quivering. Harry could do nothing except nod numbly.

“Hermione, sweetheart, can you take the kids please?” Harry heard Ron ask his wife in a shaken voice. She nodded quickly and managed to hurry the three children into a nearby café.

“Oh fuck,” Harry heard himself say, as he ran a hand over his face. He was unsurprised to find it was wet with perspiration. “Fuck. We need Kingsley here, now. Ron, can you fetch him please?” He heard the pop which signalled Ron’s Disapparition, then he sank to his knees in front of Draco. The man appeared to be in a deep sleep, and hadn’t stirred once, despite Harry’s and Ron’s raised voices. Harry’s heart was thundering in his chest as he drew his wand and began to siphon off some of the thick grime that had become impacted on Malfoy’s face.

Minutes later, Ron Apparated back into the alleyway, with Kingsley Shacklebolt in tail. Harry glanced up, and didn’t think he had ever witnessed the Minister for Magic looking so dumbfounded.

“Oh my God, it really is him,” Kingsley said as he took in the image in front of him, his eyes wide with shock.

“I don’t think he’s well at all, Kingsley,” Harry replied. “We’ve been talking loudly, there’s been an Apparition crack, and he’s not even moved a single muscle. He’s far too thin and his colour is totally wrong, plus his breathing sounds laboured. He needs to see a Healer as soon as possible.”

“We’d better get him to St Mungo’s then,” Ron said. “C’mon.” He pulled out his wand, as if to cast Levicorpus on the motionless body of Draco, but Harry put his hand on Ron’s wand arm.

“No. I’m taking him to Grimmauld Place.”

“Are you mental?” Ron retorted. “Look at him, Harry! He needs Healers!”

“And he’ll receive them,” Kingsley answered. “But Harry’s right, Ron. Can you imagine the pandemonium it’ll cause if Harry Potter and the Minister for Magic turn up at St Mungo’s with Draco Malfoy of all people? It’ll be in the Prophet by the end of the day. Until we know what has happened, we need to make sure no one knows he’s been found. It could be vital in the kidnapping case. Harry has Healers he knows and trusts, and who have been given the address of Grimmauld Place. We’ll take Draco there and then summon some help.”

Ron slowly nodded his head. “All right, Harry. You and Kingsley do that. I’ll get Teddy home then bring Scorpius back for you.”

It was a sign of how desperate the situation was that Harry agreed to the plan. Normally he wouldn’t leave Scorpius alone outside, even with people he’d trust with his own life. Ron disappeared into the café that Hermione had taken the children to, whilst Kingsley gently tried to wake Draco by shaking his arm. When this received no response, Harry drew his wand, aimed it at the motionless figure, and murmured, “Rennervate.”

Draco made a noise that sounded like a wounded cat in as he came to. He was obviously in a great deal of pain. His hand shot up to cradle his forehead, revealing the faint outline of the Dark Mark that had once burnt so brightly on his arm. He looked first at Kingsley, then at Harry, his eyes showing no signs of recognition.

“Why did you wake me up?” he asked, but his voice carried no trace of the arrogance or authority it did at Hogwarts. In face it sounded hollow and resigned.

“Long time, no see, Malfoy,” Harry said, ignoring Draco’s question. He saw the blond’s eyes widen in surprise and, Harry thought, fear.

“How… how do you know my name?” he whispered, as he drew his knees up to his chest and cradled them. Harry gave him a questioning look.

“Draco?” he asked softly, chancing a glance at Kingsley. A moment of silent communication passed between them. The man had no idea who they were. Draco Malfoy may not have existed in the wizarding world for half a decade, but he would not have forgotten what Harry Potter and the Minister for Magic looked like simply due to the passing of years. Draco’s problems were evidently a lot worse than they had initially thought. Harry looked on as Draco hugged his knees closer into his body, clearly terrified.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Kingsley said kindly. “We’re going to help you. But before we do any of that we need to get you out of this filthy alleyway and into a proper bed with some food and some potions. When was the last time you ate, Draco?”

“I… I don’t remember,” Draco responded. He was still guarded but Harry noticed some of the fear had left his eyes. “Perhaps a few days ago.”

“Okay, Malfoy, read this and memorise it,” Harry said, extracting the receipt from his pub dinner from his wallet and jotting the address of Grimmauld Place down on the back with a biro. He was unwilling to say the address aloud for fear of being overheard. He handed the narrow strip of paper to Draco, who read it quickly and nodded. Harry held out a hand to help Draco to his feet.

“Who are you?” Draco asked. Harry noticed his legs were shaking with the effort of holding his body upright.

“I’m Harry Potter, and is Kingsley Shacklebolt,” Harry replied patiently. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe and comfortable now. We’ll talk more once you’ve been fed. You don’t look like you’ve had a decent meal for weeks.”

Draco still had the haunted look on his face, but there was something else, too. Relief. Harry relaxed inwardly slightly.

“Hold on tight, Malfoy, and don’t be scared,” he instructed. He took hold of Draco’s arm, and Disapparated.

****

They arrived in the hallway of Harry’s house safely behind the Fidelius Charm, followed seconds later by Kingsley. Wordlessly, the pair helped a very shocked and confused-looking Draco upstairs and into the guest room. Draco looked around with caution, before all but collapsing onto the bed. He opened his mouth to say something, but Harry held up a hand to stop him.

“We’ll talk soon,” Harry promised the blond. “But right now what’s important is getting you well. How does a hot bath and some food sound?”

The first hint of a smile Harry had seen on Draco’s face appeared. “That… that sounds fantastic,” he rasped. Harry returned the smile.

“Kreacher!” he called, and the house-elf Apparated into the bedroom. Draco’s eye’s widened.

“Ha…Harry, what on earth is that animal-thing?” he asked, his face showing disbelief, as he pointed at Kreacher, who looked severely affronted by Draco’s rudeness. Harry’s blood ran cold. Draco’s memory problems ran much deeper than just forgetting names and faces. Draco seemed to have no knowledge of the magical world at all. Harry had just Apparated with the man- no wonder Draco had looked thoroughly astounded upon arriving at the house. He ignored Draco’s question for now, not knowing how best to answer.

“Kreacher,” Harry said, “can you prepare some broth with bread for Draco Malfoy here, and a large jug of pumpkin juice? And whilst he’s eating I would like you to prepare a hot bath for him, please, and make sure you add the healing salves I keep in the cabinet.”

Kreacher looked over to the figure on the bed properly for the first time.

“Mistress Narcissa’s son? He is being alive, Master Harry?” the elf croaked in his deep, bullfrog-like voice. Harry nodded.

“We found him about twenty minutes ago,” said Harry. “Please, Kreacher, he requires nourishment. And don’t take offence to anything he says. He’s not well. I’m going to firecall St Mungo’s. He desperately needs a Healer.”

Harry had just pulled out of the fireplace after asking his Healer to pay an urgent visit when the wards buzzed and Ron Apparated into the house.

“Alright, mate?” he asked Harry. Then, in response to Harry’s panicked expression, “Scorpius is fine, Harry. He’s at my place with Hermione. Teddy’s home safely too. Hermione and just didn’t think Scorpius should be here tonight, given his dad has just turned up back from the dead, but if it’s a problem I’ll fetch him right now.”

Ron was right, Harry knew, but it still made him uneasy to have Scorpius away from him. Still, the wards on his friends’ house were very strong. He nodded his head reluctantly.

“So, how’s Malfoy?” Ron said.

Harry opened his mouth to answer but suddenly his Floo was ablaze with emerald flames and Healer Morgan stepped through them. She shook Harry’s hand.

“What is the emergency, Mr Potter?” she asked cordially. Harry took a deep breath and gestured for her to sit down.

“You’re not going to believe this…”

Ten minutes later, Harry and a very shocked Healer Morgan had descended the staircase and entered what was, for the time being, Draco’s room. He had just finished eating and already Harry thought the man looked healthier than he had just the hour before.

“Draco, this is Healer Morgan. She’s my named Healer and is here to help you. Don’t worry, this is all strictly confidential. I’ll put a Warming Charm over your bath for now while she carries out her checks,” Harry said despite Draco’s blank expression to his words, and disappeared into the bedroom’s en-suite. He returned to find the Healer with her wand drawn, casting a series of diagnostic charms.

“Well, Mr Malfoy,” she said eventually. “I think you’re extremely lucky to be alive.” She reached into her small bag and pulled out several vials of potions, so large that Harry was certain the woman had an Undetectable Extension Charm placed on the bag. “But there is nothing that cannot be treated here in Harry’s home. I’ve cast a few healing spells on your minor injuries, and everything else can be treated with these. The red-coloured vial is a Blood-Replenishing Potion. You’ve not suffered any significant blood-loss recently that I can tell but you are severely anaemic and we need to boost your haemoglobin levels. Take that now, please.” Draco obediently un-stoppered the bottle and downed its contents, wincing at the taste. “This one here is a Grand Pepperup Potion. You’re very feverish, Mr Malfoy, and I suspect a nasty chest infection. This will help cure that. This vial-” she pointed to the vial of purple liquid she’d placed on the nightstand- “is a Sleeping Draught. It will guarantee at least twelve hours’ undisturbed rest to aid your recuperation. Take this just before retiring for the night.”

She continued to list the potions Draco was required to take, explaining their colours and properties to him. Harry cringed inwardly at the irony; next to Hermione, Draco Malfoy had been the top Potions student in Hogwarts. Now he couldn’t even recognise the Strengthening Solution in front of him, a potion Harry had seen him brew perfectly during their fifth year.

Five minutes later, Healer Morgan had completed her examination. Kreacher had taken Draco into the bathroom for his bath, and Harry had led her, plus Kingsley, into the living room, where Ron was still seated. He stood up as they entered.

“So, what’s the damage?” Kingsley asked cautiously. “Has he been Obliviated?”

“I’m certain he hasn’t,” replied Healer Morgan with a small smile. “In fact, there is some positive news. The diagnostic spells on his brain revealed no spell damage whatsoever. His memory-loss has not been caused by a Memory Charm, extended exposure to the Cruciatus Curse, or any other magical source that I can see.”

Harry must have looked as confused as he felt, however, as the Healer continued. “He does, however, have a very fractured and damaged mind. All his memories are there, but his brain cannot access them at present. The best explanation I can come up with for this is Mr Malfoy has suffered such extreme torture that his mind has simply shut down temporarily to protect itself. I’d say that Mr Malfoy had suffered with severe posttraumatic stress disorder some point after this torture ceased; the memory-loss is a physiological response to that. Anything that occurred prior to, and during, his torment has been temporarily hidden.”

“You mean he’s done it to himself?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Mr Potter, but not intentionally. This is simply his body’s way of coping whilst his mind recovers. It doesn’t have a magical source; in fact, some Muggles have been known to cope with severely upsetting events by blocking them entirely from their minds. However, due to Mr Malfoy’s magical strength, it does seem the memory-suppression is deeper than it would be in a Muggle patient. Mr Malfoy’s case is rather extreme.”

“You said, ‘temporarily’,” Kingsley noted. “So Draco should regain all his memory? How long will it take?”

“Impossible to say I’m afraid, Minister,” replied Healer Morgan. “Magic cannot speed up the process, and even if it did I would advise against it. From my experience, patients will recover their memories naturally only when their minds are sufficiently healed to able to deal with the memories they contain. However, keeping familiar things from their past around their environment- objects, people, that the patient once took pleasure in- help speed up the healing process. Usually there is a trigger that causes the person to recall a specific memory, which then acts as a catalyst and they normally recover their full memory shortly afterwards.”

“And he’s definitely not faking it?” Ron asked half-heartedly. The Healer shot him a dirty glare but otherwise gave no indication she had heard.

“He also has had several breakages to both his arms and ribs which were not healed with magic or Muggle medicine,” she continued. “The bones have set wrong. I will need to administer a course of Skele-Gro once Malfoy is stronger, but the injuries are old and not currently causing pain. They can wait. It’s extremely fortunate you found him when you did, Mr Weasley. He was dehydrated, severely malnourished and suffering from a number of other ailments that were rapidly becoming life-threatening. However he should be physically recovered within a few days; it’s the mental trauma that will take time.”

****

Harry said goodbye to both the Healer, who left with an appointment to visit Draco for the following day, and Kingsley, then he collapsed into the armchair closest to the Floo and put his face in his hands. He realised he was fighting back tears.

“Ron,” he said after a few minutes, when he felt he could trust his voice not to crack. “Go and get Scorpius, please. He should be at home.”

Ron opened his mouth to protest but Harry gave him a firm look. He sighed, resigned, and threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace. A second later he disappeared, and Harry couldn’t stop a few tears from falling.

He was of course delighted that Draco had turned up alive, that Scorpius had not lost his father in the same way his mother and grandmother were taken from him, not to mention that this would bring them a huge step closer to bringing the kidnappers to justice once Draco regained his memories, but the small, selfish part of him was terrified. When Draco regained his memories- and the Healer was confident he would- what role would Harry still have in Scorpius’ life? The idea of Draco taking the boy away from him made Harry feel physically sick. It was a thought that had been at the back of his mind ever since the ex-Slytherin had arrived at Grimmauld Place. He didn’t have a long time to draw on his maudlin thoughts, however, as once again Harry’s Floor roared into life, and Ron stepped through with Scorpius in his arms. Scorpius immediately wriggled free from them and ran to Harry, practically throwing himself at him.

“I missed you, Harry,” Scorpius said, as he nuzzled closer into the embrace. Harry took a deep breath and held the boy he couldn’t love any more if he were his own flesh and blood flush against his chest.

“Missed you too, Scorp,” he replied shakily.

Ron seemed in that moment to pick up on the reason for Harry’s anxiety. He placed a supportive hand on Harry’s shoulder before promising to visit again the following day, and Flooed back to Hermione and Rose, giving Harry some much-needed time alone with his ward.

Eventually, Scorpius’ eyelids began to droop and he inserted his thumb into his mouth. Harry idly wondered what Draco would say if he knew his son was a thumb-sucker; probably a lecture about buck-teeth, and how it was important for a Malfoy to have a perfect smile.

“Come on, Scorp, bedtime,” he said, with forced cheerfulness. He picked the boy up and carried him up the stairs, thanking Merlin that Draco’s room was on the next floor up, and helped Scorpius change into his pyjamas. He climbed into Scorpius’ bed and lay beside him.

“What story do you want tonight, Scorp?” Harry asked.

“Tell the one about how you, Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione broke out of Gringotts and rode on the back of a dragon,” Scorpius asked. Harry retold the much-loved tale, which required no elaboration to make sound exciting, and by the end Scorpius’ eyelids had finally closed. Harry lay next to Scorpius for many minutes longer, just watching the boy’s chest rise and fall easily and evenly, before reluctantly extinguishing the lights and leaving the room.

After a quick check on Malfoy and setting wards across the ex-Slytherin’s door that would alert Harry if Draco decided to go for a late-night stroll, despite the fact he’d taken a Sleeping Draught, Harry crawled in to bed; even though the hour was still relatively early, the evening’s events had left him feeling exhausted. Yet his mind whirred with thoughts and refused to allow sleep to claim him. Draco was back. He, Harry, was going to have to explain to a small child that Daddy wasn’t dead after all. There was a strong chance he was going to lose the boy when Draco’s memory returned. Harry hadn’t felt so scared since he believed he was walking to his death when he entered the Forbidden Forest eight years ago. He finally gave in to the emotions that had been close to the surface for the past couple of hours and wept.
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In Loco Parentis