Obliviate [Drarry - english]

Chapter 11

-Are you dating Draco?

-How are you?

-You scared me, man! What were you thinking?

All three questions had come at once. Harry smiled in amusement, reassured that they hadn't changed.

-Apparently. Not so good. I wanted some time to myself.

-What can we do to help you?

It was Amanda who had spoken, inexorably drawing attention to the back of the room, and therefore to Draco who was right next to her. Yet he didn't react for a second, and replied calmly.

-Nothing in particular, I suppose. You know I end up getting out of every possible situation.

-That's true.

The blond frowned. The way he answered questions was... strange. Almost too calm. As if emotions had deserted him and he was content to exist. Being a Malfoy, not reacting was second nature to him. But seeing Harry like this was unbearable.

Because Harry was a deeply passionate person, driven by his feelings, his anger, his rage, his desire to fight. And this person, nodding sagely, playing absent-mindedly with the little girl, a fake smile on his face, his eyes empty, it wasn't him.

If he could, he would have gone to him, taken him by the shoulders to shake him, kissed him, done everything to make him react to his presence, to make him feel just... alive.

-Harry...

His voice was weak. If the silence wasn't so heavy, no one would have been able to hear him. The dark-haired man looked up at him, a sad smile appearing on his face.

-I'm sorry, I...

Hermione and Amanda had the presence of mind to get everyone out of the room, and, if we're honest, they'd attracted as adults as the little girl with the promise of ice cream in the kitchen.

Draco approached slowly, but when he saw the other one tense up, he stopped.

-Listen...

-You don't have to justify yourself, you know. You don't owe me anything. After all, I don't even remember our relationship.

The teacher was there, waiting. When he saw that the tears were beginning to well up and his voice was breaking, he wanted to approach him to console him. He would do anything to make Harry forgive him for his mistake. But the saviour continued to speak.

-So why does it hurt so much?

His tears streamed down his brown cheeks. He sniffed and wiped himself with his sleeve, not daring to look him in the face. It was bad enough that he felt weak and stupid for behaving this way, but now he couldn't bear his gaze or his pity. He was startled when he felt a hand on him.

-You may not have the same memories as me, but you still have the feelings. Things like that don't fade easily. Just like you knew how to make my tea when I came to see you.

Harry had dared to look up, surprised, but already a little calmer.

-So...

-So I'm really sorry about the way I've been acting. I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you, how lost you must feel. I can answer your questions, but not being able to remember so many years of your life must be really frightening. I may have changed, but some of my reflexes have remained. And when you hurt me, I tried to convince myself that if you could forget our relationship so easily then I could do it too. But you know what the truth is?

The dark-haired man shook his head. He had never noticed how soft his eyes were, and how soothing his voice was. He hadn't even realised that the blonde, kneeling in front of him, had started to stroke his hair.

-The truth is, a Malfoy fell madly in love with a Potter. And nothing can take that away. That our love is so strong that even after you've lost your memory, it still hurts to see me with someone else. The truth is, nothing in the world can change that.

For a moment, or a minute, or a lifetime, the two men looked into each other's eyes. Harry felt much better now, and he couldn't really explain it.

-I love you, Harry Potter. Forever and ever. You're the love of my life. I love the way you wake up with your hair in a tangle, the way you tuck yourself into my back when you're tired and want comfort. I love the way you're so passionate about your work. When you tell me all about your day, and gesticulate all over the place. I love it when you work late into the night and make me breakfast and a hot cup of tea and take me to bed with you, with a kiss on the forehead. I love it when you fidget with that necklace whenever you're nervous or thinking. I love it when-

Draco couldn't finish his sentence, interrupted by Harry's kiss. His heart raced and his grip on his hair tightened. A hot flush invaded him and he could no longer control himself. His brain couldn't understand what was happening.

Their sweaty hands, their hesitant tongues, nothing else existed apart from that kiss, that moment of paradise between them. So much so that they didn't see their friends at the kitchen door watching them. Nor did they see them discreetly slip away to be left alone. They didn't hear Rose's protests that she wanted to play with her uncle, or Ron's that he couldn't erase that disgusting image from his mind, or Amanda and Blaise's that they couldn't shout for joy.

The need to be with each other made so much noise that they didn't hear the door slam. Yet they must have sensed that they were alone at last, because almost immediately Draco's hands went to the dark-haired man's shirt, seeking the warmth of his touch.

Harry let himself fall backwards as the blonde towered over him. For a brief moment, he looked at him closely, and he could swear that Draco had never, ever looked so handsome, sexy and sensual, with his hair in a mess and his shirt open.

For the professor, the world was finally in its place. The brunette in his arms, offering himself to him, moaning at his fingers on his skin, asking, begging for a little more attention and love.

Draco was not the kind of man to listen to the pleas of others. And yet, that evening, every one of the dark-haired man's prayers was heard, and answered with the utmost care. Sometimes more than once, after all, the Malfoys were known to be conscientious men.

So when Harry woke up the next day, his body bruised, and he felt arms wrapped around him, and warm breath on the back of his neck, the fog of the last ten years felt like a bad dream. And he wouldn't hesitate to ask Draco to make him go away, as many times as possible.

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