Memory Loss (Harry Potter Drarry slash)

40 [Rape 6] A Harry Situation

A loud blast sounded through the room, a flash of blinding white light erupted from a transparent disc hovering in mid-air, and Timothy appeared, red-faced and urgent. "They've got him!" he panted, hurrying out in front of Harry and Draco with his back to the Death Eaters, not seeing them and therefore oblivious to what was happening right in that instance. "I was checking up on James to make sure that there weren't any dire breaches caused by his presence in the Dark Plane, but he wasn't there! I questioned Bond about it, and—"

He fell silent when he saw the dark looks on their faces. His brows furrowed. "What? What's wrong? What are you looking at?" And so he slowly turned around to see what was demanding their attention. Instead of starting at the sight of Piper in the grasp of the enemy, he simply blinked twice in understanding. "Oh. I see that you already know. Good."

"Good?!" Draco yelled, and made to lash out at the blond boy. "Good?! Are you out of your bloody mind again?! How can any of this be good!?"

Harry held him back. He did not want to provoke the Death Eaters, because he was afraid that their luck was finally running out on them.

Timothy gave the blonde an incredulous look as if to tell him that he was stupid not to see it.

Harry did not understand what was so good about their situation, either, but if Timothy thought that they had a chance, he was prepared to believe him. Having the Time Manipulator on their side was a great advantage, seeing as the Death Eaters had no idea who he was or what he was capable of.

"Stand back!" the Death Eater holding Piper warned, his nostrils flaring as he grunted threateningly. There was no mistaking the fact that this was a madman, and there was absolutely no guarantee that he would actually spare the others if Harry consented to the Dark Lord's demand. Still ... if there was any chance—no matter how slim—that he could save Draco and their children ...

"I'll do it," he said with cold determination, desperately trying to mask the high-concentrated, stark fear that was being pumped through his veins by his pounding heart. The level of anxiety that he was experiencing was so acute that he could actually see his soul partly leaving his body, as if he was standing three feet behind himself; a stranger watching a psychologically nerve-thrilling, hair-raising scene in a scary movie. He was so uptight that if anyone were to touch him the slightest, he would spring at them, instinctively flinging himself out of his own skin.

It was a horrifying sensation, but he nevertheless thrived on it. He hoped that the adrenaline rush would help him do whatever he needed to do to save James once he got to the Dark Lord's lair.

Draco stumbled on air and fell to the floor next to him. Immediately springing back up, he grabbed hold of the sleeve of Harry's robes. "Excuse me?! I thought you just said you'd do it," he panted, hollow-eyed.

The cold determination in him did not shift. "I did."

The blonde jerked backwards from him. "What?" His face turned paler than pale; the healthy flush of anger left his features altogether and left only a ghost of indignation behind. "But you can't—"

A dull sadness came over him. "I have to, Dracums. I have to—or they'll kill James."

Draco grabbed the collar of his robes and pulled him closer to him, his beautiful face contorted by fear and grief. "But they'll only kill you instead!" he objected hysterically. "You can't go! You can't! I won't be able to live without you, I won't—"

A pathetic meowl escaped him and tears started to stream down his smooth cheeks. He put his right hand in his mouth, biting down hard on it, but he was unable to stop himself from sobbing.