Obliviate [Drarry - english]

Chapter 08

Harry hadn't set foot outside his flat since his meeting with Draco. Every time he'd tried, he'd felt like everyone knew. That everyone in the wizarding world could see the shame and guilt eating away at him.

And he couldn't even work out what exactly he should be ashamed of. Of having kissed him? Of having been in love? For loving it so much that he'd felt like he was cheating on Ginny?

Probably a bit of everything. Because for a few days now, the only thing Harry could think about was that kiss, so sweet, so intimate. The strange feeling of deja-vu, while at the same time having the impression that it was the first time. The way the long, slender fingers had played in his hair, the familiarity with which he'd placed a tentative hand on his hip, trying to find a piece of skin to caress.

Never had he felt such excitement with Ginny, or anyone else. And it had to be with Draco Malfoy.

Obviously, he had looked him up, and he clearly had an exemplary career as a potionist and teacher. He was fair with the students, but he still managed to maintain a cool, distant aura that ensured his respect. In his spare time, it was not uncommon for new potions to appear on the market that were just as effective as Snape's, if not better.

And when Harry had read all the newspaper articles about him, extolling his virtues, without really knowing why, he had felt proud. So proud to see how much the former mangemort had changed and evolved. Yet he had nothing to do with his achievements.

And when he'd read an article early in his career about parents refusing to admit their children to Hogwarts because Draco was a teacher there, he'd felt the urge to kill anyone who attacked him. He felt an urgent need to go and see him, to console him and, above all, to protect him from this awful world.

Even though he was well aware that he was the one who was hurting him the most right now.

In the privacy of his bedroom, he could let himself admit his feelings and fantasies. For it was his nemesis from the other day who made him sweat in his dreams. Sometimes, he woke up with the impression of feeling it inside him. At other times, he had the impression of remembering something important, before it evaporated with the first light of day.

Harry felt guilty too, very guilty. As Hermione had told him, Draco would have no interest in lying to him about something so important, and which put him in such a vulnerable position.

Of course, Draco could be in love with him, without them being together, and perhaps he was using the situation to be able to abuse him. But just thinking about him in that way made Harry deeply uncomfortable. And it didn't really fit with what he'd read about him, or what Hermione had told him. Although she wasn't very close to him, or had followed his career closely, she knew how he had changed.

So the only possible solution was that they had really been together. And he wasn't ready to admit that.

So for the xth time that day, the saviour was pacing back and forth in his flat, racking his brains with all that had happened recently.

The only person who could have answered his questions was the very person he couldn't contact. Especially not after the way they'd parted. Well, especially the way Harry had pushed him away, absolutely terrified by the strength of the feelings he'd felt, and this feeling he had of having cheated on Ginny. He felt dirty and perfectly at home in the blonde's arms.

Slumped on his sofa, he was currently devouring a pot of ice cream, becoming an old Muggle comedy series, The nanny. He'd decided that since he couldn't find any answers to his questions, he wouldn't think or do anything else. The doctor had prescribed some rest, and he was going to take advantage of it to try every flavour of ice cream there was in England.