Memory Loss (Harry Potter Drarry slash)

13: [And so the Tables Were Turned 2] Fever Dreams

Draco did not faint and drown in the bath, but he bloody well felt as if he had. Just as Harry had predicted, taking a bath had been a bad idea. The hot water had only made his fever worse, and he had felt as if he was melting into the water. All in all, he had only been in the tub for ten minutes, and that had been stretching it. He just felt as if he needed to prove something to Harry, and stepping out of the bath too soon would mean defeat.

When he got downstairs he expected to find Harry with a triumphant smile on his lips, saying "Told you so." But to his great surprise, Harry was not in the parlour like he had said he would be. Neither was James.

Draco knitted his brows. "Piper, where's Harry? Where's James?"

Piper was sitting on the couch with her mouth open like a dead fish, staring unseeingly into thin air. "They ... they ... they just disappeared," she whispered.

Draco felt something sharp pierce his heart. "D-disappeared?" he echoed, because he knew what that meant. James had done whatever he had done four days ago, but this time Harry had managed to go with him. Still, it was immensely alarming.

Where had they gone this time?

___________________________________

Harry got up from the floor to greet the woman in front of him. James began to crawl around on the wooden floor, a happy grin on his face. He made gurgling little baby noises that would have been cute had the situation not been so acute.

The woman took a trembling step towards him, then stopped in hesitation.

Harry tried to smile affably, but he only managed a semi-grimace. "Good evening, Mrs. Granger," he said, nervously fiddling with his shirt. "Sorry to barge in like this ..."

The woman jerked when he called her by her name. Then recognition passed over the surfaces of her blue eyes. "Harry, is that you? Little Harry Potter?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Granger. It's nice to see you again. I'm ... I'm awfully sorry for your loss. We all miss Hermione an awful lot."

That last bit was a complete lie, but Harry could not bring himself to tell Mrs. Granger the truth about the ambiguous feelings he had for her late daughter. He had not seen either of Hermione's parents for over five years, so he could not just tell her that he hated Hermione for what she had done to him and Draco. That would accomplish nothing but further estrangement from the Grangers.

Mrs. Granger bit her lower lip. "Thank you, Harry. I ... I heard from Ron that Hermione was killed by someone at your house, but I ... I didn't know what to think. I just couldn't believe anything like that of you. Not of you, not of Harry Potter."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "I'm afraid that is true, Mrs. Granger," he decided to say. "I can't lie to you; you deserve to know what happened to your daughter. But I assure you that neither Draco nor I had anything to do with it. The person who killed her was staying at our house at that time, but he was killed himself the very next day.

"Draco and I thought we could trust him, but he turned out to be a dark wizard. Unfortunately, Hermione showed up at the wrong place at the wrong time. I was the one that should have been killed; I was the one that he was after. I'm sorry I couldn't do more, Mrs. Granger."

Harry did not feel at all bad for twisting the truth to make it sound as if he had no blame in what had happened to Hermione; it was for the best. He could not tell her that the person who killed Hermione was in fact the very same boy that was currently crawling around her living room floor; the progeny of Harry and Draco.