Shattered Castle

3

i haven't seen my girlfriend in a month I'm losing my mind

Harry's eyes instinctively scan the common room as he walks down the stairs. It became a habit at some point around fourth year, and he hasn't been able to break it since.

Dean and Seamus are sitting on the couch together. If Harry didn't know they were together, he would think nothing of it, but he catches tiny details, like the way they slightly lean into one another, or the distance they attempted to put between themselves to appear platonic. The heat of anger flares in Harry at the thought that they have to hide their relationship because of other people before he remembers that's what he and Draco are doing.

Hermione is sitting on an armchair by the fire, a book in her lap. She's not reading it. She's staring at the pages, but her eyes aren't moving. She probably hasn't turned the page in hours.

Neville is sitting on the floor, several pieces of parchment surrounding him as he attempts to write an essay.

Ron is sitting on the armchair across from Hermione, and his eyes are the first to meet Harry's when he finally steps into the room.

"Hiya, Harry," he says slowly, as though afraid of angering him.

Too late for that.

Harry only raises one eyebrow, unimpressed. "Hello."

Hermione looks up, her face breaking into a smile before it falters and returns to that sad look she's had for a week and a half now.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry adds, unable to stop himself. Her smile comes back fractionally and she repeats the greeting.

"Why are you being such an arsehole to me?" Ron shouts irritably.

"I said hello, didn't I?" Harry replies, turning to face him. He keeps his face carefully blank.

"But you said it weird. And you yelled at me yesterday, and-"

"I didn't yell at you." Harry's voice is icy to his own ears. "You told me to try and remember like that was going to help in any way and not upset me, and then I told you I don't know you because I don't. I don't know who you are or why you think you have any right to tell me what I can or can't remember. You seem to think you've earned some right to shout at me, and you haven't."

Ron's mouth is open. Hermione's eyes are pleading Harry to stop. Dean and Seamus look concerned. Neville is just staring at Harry in shock.

"You bloody prat," Ron growls, standing from his chair. He ignores Hermione's shout of "Ron, don't!" and advances toward Harry. "Just because you don't remember me doesn't mean I'm not your damn best friend. You don't get entitlement because you don't remember."

Seamus cocks his head behind Ron's back, his expression clear; he kind of does get that entitlement. The others in the room also look confused. Ron's argument is flimsy at best.

"You're not my best friend," Harry replies, and he enjoys the shock that crosses Ron's face at the words. "If anything, I think Dean is my best friend. I'm better friends with Seamus than you, I'm better friends with Hermione than you, in fact, I think I'm better friends with that blonde Slytherin guy than I am with you."

It's a low blow and Harry knows it, but Amnesiac Harry doesn't and that's what gives him the ability to say it. 

Hermione's mouth drops open and Seamus makes a small squeak noise. Neville drops his pencil. Ron turns bright red. But Dean...

Dean is staring at Harry with a concerningly speculative look on his face, and that worries Harry. But one problem at a time.

"You son of a bitch!" Ron shouts. "You've talked to Malfoy, what, twice? I've been your friend for eight fucking years!"

"I don't fucking remember that!" Harry shouts louder. "I don't remember you, so everything you say makes a new impression, and believe me, you're not making a good one!" His necklace warms warningly, Draco's attempt to calm him down from wherever he is, and Harry immediately feels bad. He hopes his anger hasn't worried Draco.

After Harry had regained his memories, Draco had charmed their necklaces to turn cold when one of them was upset, and they could consciously warm the other's necklace if they needed to. In the past week, it has become more helpful than Harry had anticipated; Draco's calming thoughts keep him from snapping at the people around him. It reminds him that Draco is the reason he is doing this, that it's for them, so they can have their one year to themselves.

Ron opens his mouth to shout more, but Dean stands abruptly. 

"Harry, take a walk with me?" It's phrased like a question, but they both know it's not. Harry just nods once and follows Dean out the door without a glance at Ron. The second the portrait shuts behind them Harry can hear Hermione and Ron shouting, and he hates himself for causing Hermione more distress.

The pair walk a few feet away from the portrait before Dean stops and turns around.

"You know his name," he says flatly. He has no expression on his face.

"Who, Ron?" Harry feels sick to his stomach, like this conversation is leading to something he's not ready for.

"You said the blonde Slytherin guy." Dean pauses for a long moment, and Harry's heart drops when he realizes where this is leading. "You've talked to Hermione, like, twice, and you remember her name perfectly. You've talked to Seamus about once or twice, and you know his name. You're partnered with Malfoy in Potions. You've talked to him a bit. You know his name."

"What's your point?" Harry's voice is more hoarse than he anticipated.

"You're overdoing it. You're pretending you don't know him."

"I don't know him, Dean, I don't know anyone." Harry wants to scream, he wants to tell Dean that he's in love with Draco, that he knows everything and everyone and he hates Ron.

"I know that. But you know Malfoy. You know his name, so why are you pretending you don't?"

"Can we talk about this another day?"Harry begs. He needs to come up with excuses. "Please. I can't, not right now."

Dean immediately backs off, nodding. He turns toward the portrait, but just before he says the password, he turns back to Harry.

"You know, you were partnered with him before you lost your memory too." A soft sort of smile crosses his face. "You two were good together. A lot of arguing at first, but once you added something wrong to a potion and he shouted to get back, and the first thing you did was grab his hand and pull him away."

Harry remembers that day. It was before they were dating. It was the same day Draco had come up to him after class, holding out his hand and saying Potter, I'm sorry.

Harry had smiled and said Call me Harry.

Three days later, he kissed Draco for the first time.

"You two were good after that, a lot less arguing." Dean pauses and smiles at him. "Maybe he's your poem boy. Your secret closeted boyfriend."

Harry laughs softly. "I doubt it, but I'll be sure to ask," he says, thankful that Dean doesn't suspect.

"Ron would have a bloody fit," Dean snickers. "Be careful with him, Harry. I don't think he's very gay-positive."

You have no idea. "Thanks, Dean. I don't think I'll be spilling any secrets to him anyways. He seems like a jerk."

Dean looks at him for a long moment, a sad look coming over his face.

"You guys were really best friends, Harry. I can't replace him."

"I know," Harry says softly before he can help it.

Dean murmurs the password and steps back into the common room.

Harry goes to find his poem boy.