Title: Just Another Recollection
Author: Nepenthe
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Genre: Drama (little bit of everything)
Format: WIP, very short multipart
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some swearing.
Disclaimer: I don't even own the idea to this one. XD
Summary: Based on 50 First Dates and insane conversations with freakyzero on MSN. Draco's short-term memory is destroyed from Harry's dueling spell, causing him to wake up every morning like it's just the next day. When, in fact, it has been three years. We come in on the morning that Draco wakes up early and finds a Mister Harry Potter in his bed...
Roughly beta'ed. Thank you, freakyzero.

Draco opened his eyes slowly and groaned, covering his eyes quickly against the bright light. First thoughts: Stupid Potter. Thought with as much loathing and spitting contempt that he could muster inside his head. He knew he must be in a hospital bed, because he didn't recognize it as his own when he shifted his legs. The sheets felt silkier, though; they must have finally consented to his wishes for softer linen once they realized how much his poor soul was going to be subject to Potter's curses and hexes. He wasn't even going to count how many times Potter had sent him to the infirmary. Not only was it embarrassing, it was completely unnecessary! Unprovoked actions, that ruffian Potter. A stalker, that one, corrupted in the head, always looking for a fight and picking on me, sniffed Draco delicately. He was going to have to go to St. Mungo's for mental treatment with the entire trauma Potter was putting on his figure.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Draco blinked blearily at the light and moved a hand down to draw back the soft blankets. As soon as he did, however, he realized that it was very...drafty and quickly shut the blankets around his body again. Where were his sodding clothes?

"Pomfrey!" Draco bellowed sleepily, his horror apparent. "You dirty cow! Give me my clothes back this instant or you'll be hearing from my father!"

"Shit," someone whispered on the other side of Draco, causing him to whip his head around quickly and become very, very awake. In the horror of his nudity, Draco had failed to take in his surroundings, which he now realized was not Hogwarts Infirmary. He also failed to take stock of the king-sized bed he was laying in, which he was sharing with another person; another person with messy, brown hair, green eyes, and was very, very naked. Like Draco. His name eluded Draco for a moment, because the shock was too much for him and his brain decided to say 'fuck it' and shut itself down. So, Draco flapped his mouth open and shut a couple of times while his brain rebooted. The man lying next to him took that moment to fight with the sheets, reach over to his bedside table, and put on his hideous glasses. As soon as he did, his brain clicked back to life and Draco shrieked.


Like a little girl, he squealed at the top of his lungs. The only thing missing was Draco slapping his hands to his cheeks in complete horror, but his hands were too busy trying to grab all the blankets to cover himself completely and get out of the bed that had Harry sodding Potter lounging in it! He almost completed his scrambled mission, but Potter cursed and started fighting for the covers.

"Draco, would you calm down! Don't take the bloody blankets!"

"Mine!" Draco screamed, his brain melting down to the point where he could only speak a few syllables. "You! Out!"



"What? For Merlin's sake, stop it!"


"This looks bad, I know..."



Draco won the blanket war, but at a terrible price. For one, he got to see Harry's naked backside and that was horrible. The second one was that he fell out of the bed and landed in a heap. Harry's messy head peeped over the edge and Draco glared at him, one arm scrambling to wrap the blankets around him and the other pointing at finger right between Potter's eyes, making the boy go cross-eyed.

"Stay away!" Draco ordered as he slowly backpedaled himself away from the bed. More distance was needed from this psycho.

"Draco, I can explain if you just give me a moment..." Harry begged, sliding off the bed and quickly grabbing a pillow to cover his private parts; for Draco's sanity or sudden shyness, Draco really didn't want to analyze to find out.

"No!" Draco snapped. "You just stay right over there until I call the Ministry. You're going to be locked up for this, Potter! As soon as I find my clothes."

Sighing, Harry pointed at a chest of drawers across the room. "In there."

"My clothes are not in there," Draco spat. "Trying to trick me again, Potter? Hah! Once Dumbledore finds out you've been using your private bedroom to rape innocent boys, ho! You're not going to be his little pet anymore, are you? Unless...Unless..." More rising horror. Draco couldn't deal with this. "Unless you guys are in this together!" Sick, sick images popped in Draco's head with Potter and Dumbledore in staring roles with minimum clothing. He was definitely going to be sick. "Pervert!" Shrieking helped him deal with this trauma.

"Look, I'm usually not here when you wake up, so you can deal with this better-"

Shrieking helped. Shrieking was good. Draco did it a couple of times.

"No, wait - sorry - that came out wrong - I mean-"

"How many times have you raped me?" Draco demanded in a shrilly voice.

"I don't rape you!" Harry yelled, apparently losing some patience. "You come very willingly!"

"AHH AHH AHH!" Draco shrieked some more and buried his head in his arms and blankets. This was a nightmare. He was going to wake up any moment. Rocking back and forth helped. Yes, rock-a-by Draco. Shh, everything is okay. Sodding Potter is not in your room or anywhere near your physical presence (in your head, entirely different matter). You just need to Wake Up.

A rustle of clothing and footsteps nearing him proved that he hadn't woken up yet.

"Go away, Bad Dream," Draco mumbled, tightening his arms around himself. He heard Potter's knees crack as he kneeled down in front of him. He hoped the rustle of clothing was something that Harry put on his person, and not fluffy handcuffs or something. Not that Draco fantasized about fuzzy handcuffs. No. Not At All.


"Do not call me by my first name," Draco snapped, his head lurching up. He saw Potter's eyes grow hard for a moment, something cold, and Draco was relieved to find something familiar about this boy...before...him...

Draco's breath caught as he finally took a moment to look Potter over. Potter was not seventeen years old. Not the kid he imagined in his head, not the last picture he had of his as they faced off in the hall for another duel after the thousands. He had broader shoulders; his hair was a bit longer and shaggier around his neck. He was apparently taller too, though Draco couldn't tell from this position.

"What happened to you?" Draco choked; leaning back as if afraid the change over Potter's appearance would spread onto him.

"I've been trying to tell you," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes in what looked like in an affectionate way. Draco balked. But Harry licked his lips a bit in a nervous manner; it had Draco leaning forward again. "Well, you see, our last duel..." Harry was beginning to look insanely guilty and Draco narrowed his eyes.

"What did you do to me?" Draco growled and Harry had the decency to lower his eyes and blush with shame.

"It effected your memory, my last spell," Harry said haltingly. "Your, uh, short-term memory."

Draco's eyes squinted as he tried to understand exactly what Harry was saying, even though he was beginning to. He wanted to hear Harry say it himself, admit it, because it wasn't going to be real if he didn't say it out loud. Because Draco was very good with denial and he was going to deny it three times till Sunday if Potter never proved the reality to him.

"You don't remember anything from that day three years ago," Harry explained hesitantly. "You won't ever remember anything after that day. When you go to bed, you forget everything that happened that day and it starts all over again."

Three years ago?

"I mean, we have pensieves...before you go to bed, you record every day...but..."

He was handicapped? Harry Potter fucked up his mind? He was lame, he was mentally retarded, he would never remember a proper spell he learned from then on, he needed someone to tell him this every day for the rest of his fucking life?

Harry must had suspected his anger; maybe he received it everyday. It was no surprise to him when Draco lashed out at him, catching his hands quickly. Draco's fury burned him, burned his eyes the most, and he attacked Potter as best as he could.

"You bastard! What have you done to me?" Draco yelled, his shrieking gone to mad rage. "Why couldn't you have just let me alone? Why didn't you leave me the fuck alone?"

"Because I loved you!" Harry yelled back and he let go of Draco's wrists to wrap his arms around his waist and draw him close. This caused Draco's fury to over boil and he fought like a caught, wild animal, punching Harry where he could, and trying to escape. Harry was much stronger than him, however, which only infuriated him even more.

"I didn't know it then, Draco," Harry mumbled into Draco's neck, barely heard over his screams of outrage. "Just every time I saw you, I couldn't leave you alone. I had to have your attention..."

"You're sick and twisted!" Draco spat furiously, dragging his nails down Harry's bare skin, trying to draw blood. He failed. "Get your hands off of me! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF ME!"

He felt something wet against his skin and Harry kept mumbling against his body, arms tight.

"It's just a bad day, Draco," Harry murmured. "It will be better tomorrow, I promise. I'll wake up early so this won't be so bad for you, just like always."

"Better tomorrow?" Draco yelled and he punched Harry's shoulder repeatedly. There would be bruises. "What, when I won't remember? When I've forgotten and you can try a different tactic, because what happens now doesn't matter because you can always start anew tomorrow? Fuck you, Potter! FUCK YOU!"

"Is everything all right, Harry?"

Draco's head whipped around towards the open door, where Hermione was standing sleepily in her nightgown. She looked between them in a confused manner, seeming to be bewildered about their position. For a moment, it gave Draco hope that this was just some weird, nasty prank and none of this was real. None of it. Denial seeped in quickly.

"Granger!" Draco barked. "Get your raving, lunatic friend off of me immediately!"

Her eyes widened painfully.

"You Gryffindors are a twisted, sick group-"

"Blaise!" Granger called.

"If you guys think for one moment that this is funny, you're sadly mistaken-"

"Bad day?" Blaise asked immediately as he ran into the room. He strode towards Draco and Harry with barely a pause to look at the strange position. He didn't wait for Hermione to answer - one look at the situation was obvious. He immediately pulled Harry away (quite easily, but that didn't deter Draco any) from Draco, which caused the blonde-haired boy to leap up with the blankets and try to swing a kick at the Gryffindor. Blaise easily blocked it and moved the other Slytherin away.

"Calm down, Draco," Blaise said gently.

"Calm down?" Draco was back to shrieking again. "He was trying to molest me! He took off my clothes! This is a sick joke that has gone too far and I want this glamour to go away NOW!"

Harry was crumbled still on the ground, his head in his hands and Hermione rubbing soothing circles over his back.

"Stop the charade!" Draco screamed, furious beyond belief that they haven't let up yet. "Stop it now!"

"You guys better leave," Blaise told the other two, so calmly that it strove Draco's temper to new heights. "This is going to be a Destructive Day."

Hermione nodded and quickly helped Harry to his feet, leading him out of the room. His shoulders stayed slumped and head bowed the entire way. When the door shut, Draco whirled on Blaise, his eyes blazing with ice.

"Were you in on this?" Draco roared. Blaise took a slow step backwards, but did not seem afraid.

"Draco, this isn't a joke," he said with a sad shake of his head. "I mean, look at me. Do I look seventeen to you?"

"Glamour," Draco waved the logic away. His denial was strong.

"No, Draco," Blaise sighed. "Go look around. You'll find all of your belongings here, though you might not recognize your clothes."

To prove reality wrong, especially Blaise, Draco did that. He strode towards the dresser with the blankets fisted around his waist and looked at the splattered belongings on the counter. A lot of them were his. A hand mirror from his great grandmother, a jewelry box for all the Malfoy crest rings that was charmed only for him to open, his wand lying lazily beside another's, probably Potter's. He grabbed it immediately to snap it in half.

"Accio wand!" Blaise cried and it flew from his fingertips to the other boy's. "Destroy anything you want, but this," he held the want up, "Ollivander is getting tired of replacing Harry's wand."

That threw Draco's rage up again and he swiped all the belongings to the floor. They clattered noisily against the stones. Next, Draco jerked open a drawer, clawed the clothes into his fists and threw them out onto the floor as well. Drawer after drawer was subject to Draco's rage, to his denial of the truth, until they were empty or on the floor. He tore across the room and found a wall full of pictures; pictures of Harry and him, smiling and in each other's arms. Pictures of Granger, Weasley, Blaise, and Pansy. Pictures of all of them together, like some happy, fucking family. They were waving, dancing around, all over each other. His picture self was the worst; he seemed to be completely smitten with Harry and wouldn't let go of his hand. Picture Harry didn't seem to mind at all.

They didn't last against Draco's rage and soon, they were scrambling out of their frames before Draco smashed them to the floor.

"Lies!" Draco screamed, his voice cracking. "Lies, all of them! You fucking bastards, why are you doing this to me?"

"Maybe you should look into a pensieve, Draco," Blaise commented from the other side of the room, unaffected to the damage around him.

"No!" Draco refused, whirling to face his old classmate, who he barely recognized. "Just tell me this isn't real! Tell me this is a joke!"

"I can't," Blaise sighed. "'cause than I'd be lying."