Hi All! I'm back! This is the latest Drarry story I've been working on. It's called Fix You, based on the song by Coldplay. I don't think I'd call it a song fic, though. Each chapter takes its title from a line or partial line from the song. The gist of the story is that Harry loses his memory. Guess who helps him try to recover it? Well, it wouldn't be a Drarry without Draco.
I'm compelled to say that I don't own these characters or the magical places mentioned in the story. JK Rowling gets all the credit there.
This is not epilogue compliant. I hope it's better :) As in my last story, I've included subtitles to help keep track of time in the story. If you're reading this, you probably had me or something I wrote on alert, so I thank you!
〪o 〫O〬 o〭
Day One, Sunday
Harry walked, more like staggered, down the alley way. His head felt as though it had melted and reformed. One by one, his senses came back to him in varying degrees, until finally, he could see and hear and smell all that Diagon Alley had to offer.
People smiled and nodded at him as they passed. He attempted to do the same in return. In his disoriented state, however, he couldn't be certain he was forming the correct expression. He stopped trying and turned a corner, which brought him into a darker alley. He noted that it was not only less light, it seemed sinister. The people in this place dressed in darker clothing and they did not meet one another's gazes.
A large man bumped into Harry, nearly knocking him over.
"Watch it," the man snapped and kept on walking.
Harry ducked into the nearest shop in order to gather himself together. What he saw inside only further confused him. Shelves upon shelves of glass bottles filled with liquid or powder or what appeared to be herbs lined the entire interior of the shop. He leaned closer to read some of the labels. He recognized a few- herbs such as rosemary and fennel. Others were completely foreign to him.
Upon hearing the small bell over the door, Draco Malfoy made his way to the front of his shop to greet a potential customer. He stopped short and sighed, annoyed, that once again, Harry Potter was there to harass him.
"Everything here is legitimate," Draco said. "I have paperwork for all of it. Including the dragon's blood."
"What?" Harry glanced up at him. "Are you talking to me?"
"Do you see anyone else?" Draco asked sarcastically. His assistant, Mirabelle was currently in the back room taking inventory, as was customary on a Sunday afternoon.
"Oh," Harry replied. "What is all this stuff?" He picked up a small jar. "Are these real? What kind of eyeballs are they?" Harry scrunched up his face in disgust.
Draco plucked the jar from his hand. "Newt, of course. What's the matter with you Potter?"
"You know me?" Harry asked, hopeful for the first time since he found himself in the busy alley way just fifteen minutes earlier.
"Well, obviously I know you. What are you playing at?"
"I'm not playing at anything."
"Why are you even here?" Draco demanded.
"I can't remember," Harry answered quietly, knowing he was in a most vulnerable position. There was little he could do but trust the one person who had spoken to him and clearly knew who he was.
Draco narrowed his eyes, unsure if Harry was just toying with him. But the former Gryffindor actually looked . . . frightened.
"You mean you forgot why you came in here?"
"No. I came in here because the alley was crowded with bizarre people. This happened to be the closest shop." He paused and bit his lip. "I don't know who I am," Harry confessed. "I mean, I know my name. And I remember some things, like my family. But nothing past childhood."
Draco laughed but stopped quickly when Harry didn't join in. "You're serious?"
Harry nodded. "Obviously, you know who I am. Can you help me?"
"So, you're saying someone Obliviated you?" Draco rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And you're asking me for help?"
"Obliviated? I don't know what that means, but can you?" Harry gave a pleading look.
Draco carefully considered the situation. In order to exploit the gift standing before him, he needed to examine it from all sides. As he saw it, his options included sending Potter on his way to fend for himself, owling Weasley and Granger to come fetch him, or attempting to restore Potter's memory himself. The first two options would cause the least headache. But they also presented no gain. The third choice, however, would leave Potter indebted to him, at least in some part. Perhaps Potter would stop pestering Draco with the petty warrants and searches that often drove away customers.
"All right," Draco smiled mischievously. "I'll help you."
"You will? Thank you," Harry smiled back, blissfully unaware at whose mercy he had just placed himself. He sighed with relief.
Draco pulled out his wand. "First let me see what the damage is."
"What the Hell are you doing?" Harry stepped back.
"I'm not going to curse you. I may not be a Healer, but I'm proficient enough to make a cursory diagnosis."
"With a stick?" Harry appeared utterly confused. He glanced at the jar Draco had taken form him earlier. "Oh my God, you're some kind of kook. Do you practice some sort of Satan worship? Do you fancy yourself a warlock?" He was beginning to rethink getting involved with the man in front of him.
"Nobody uses that term anymore," Draco snickered. "Except Muggles." Then it occurred to Draco. "Merlin, you don't remember magic either, do you?"
"Magic. You are a kook. Or are you just making fun of me? Either way, I think I'll take my chances out there." Harry started for the door.
"Wait," Draco urged. "I'm not making fun of you. I can prove it."
Without waiting for a response, Draco waved his wand at the jar of eyes. "Wingardium Leviosa."
The jar raised and floated to the opposite counter.
"Whoa! How did you do that?" Harry exclaimed.
"Magic," Draco rolled his eyes.
Harry went to the jar to examine it. He was certain he would find a string attached. While Harry was holding it, Draco made the jar disappear.
Draco couldn't help but laugh at Harry's Muggle-like reactions. He really had lost much of his memory.
"Well, Potter, your memory loss is more extensive than I first thought. It may take some time to restore it."
Draco glanced at the clock. "It's closing time. You can stay here while we work on your memory."
"Here in the shop?"
"No. I have a flat upstairs. Excuse me for a moment."
Going into the back room, Draco informed Mirabelle that he was closing up for the evening and that she was free to leave as well. Draco ushered Harry up the staircase before Mirabelle could see him. If she did, she would have a thousand questions that Draco did not want to answer. At the top of the stairs was a lavishly appointed studio flat.
Wide-eyed, Harry looked around. He'd never seen many of the unusual items stored on shelves and hanging on the walls.
"You have a pet owl? How strange. And a broom with foot rests?" Harry cocked his head to read the broom side. Next, he picked up a photograph. "How is this moving?"
"Potter, you seem to have a million questions. Basically, the answer to all of them is magic." Harry's childlike wonder was beginning to wear thin.
"Does anyone know you can do magic?" Harry asked.
"Yes, of course. We're in Wizarding London. Everyone here can do magic," Draco told him, less patiently than he meant to. "Even you."
"No. I can't do magic," Harry replied.
Draco smirked. "Reach into your trouser pocket," he directed Harry.
He put his hand in his front pocket. "Nothing's there."
"No, your wand pocket."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Draco snorted. He reached over and felt the side of Harry's trousers for the hidden pocket and fished out his wand.
Surprised, Harry gasped, "I have one of those too?"
Draco handed Harry the wand. "Try it. Do something simple."
Harry just stood there. "Uh, abracadabra?"
Laughing, Draco said, "Oh, right. You don't remember any spells. Okay. Hold out your wand toward that parchment and say Wingardium Leviosa. Give it a bit of a swish."
"That's what you did downstairs in the shop, right?"
"Yes. Well, you seem to have a decent memory now," Draco joked.
Harry took a deep breath and, feeling rather silly, did as Draco directed him. The parchment stubbornly lay where it was. He gave it another try, concentrating a bit more and swishing just a bit bigger. Still nothing.
Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco.
"Having fun at my expense? Do you have a hidden camera recording this? I can't believe I actually fell for your parlor tricks."
Harry slammed his wand on the small table beside a chair and turned to leave.
"Wait, Potter. It's not parlor tricks. I truly thought it would work. Whatever happened to your memory is clearly affecting your magical abilities as well."
"Give it a rest. I know magic isn't real."
"Ask me to do anything. Something I couldn't have planned ahead," Draco suggested.
Harry looked around the flat, trying to think up something he thought Draco could never accomplish.
"Um, turn that shirt into an animal. Can you do that?" Harry challenged.
"What sort of animal?"
"A, a miniature zebra," Harry said triumphantly, figuring he had Draco by the bollocks.
Smirking, Draco raised his wand and muttered an incantation. Before Harry's eyes, the shirt transfigured into a two foot tall zebra. All Harry could do was stand with his mouth agape.
Draco returned the shirt to its natural state. "So, do you believe me now?"
Swallowing hard, Harry nodded.
"Okay then. Do you want me to try and help you, or do you still want to take your chances out there?" Draco motioned to the window. "Personally, I would be worried about whoever did this finding you and finishing the job. Or worse."
"I don't really like the idea of going back into that alley," Harry admitted.
"It may take a while," Draco warned. "It was no simple Obliviate that took your memories. You'd have to stay here for . . . I really have no idea how long it will take."
"I don't want to be an imposition. You seem . . . somewhat irritated with me most of the time."
"You're not imposing. I'm offering," Draco corrected. Though, he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was offering. "And I find most people irritating."
"Thank you," Harry said quietly. He suddenly sat up. "You knew my name. Do we know each other?"
Draco contemplated exactly how much information to give Harry. He obviously couldn't tell him the true nature of their relationship. But Harry had seemed to figure out that they weren't precisely friends.
"We know each other. Not well, though. You come into my shop on a regular basis."
"I did? I mean, I do? But we're not friends?" Harry frowned. "Then why do I come here?"
"Um, well, you're an Auror."
"Sort of wizard police."
The wheels in Harry's head began to spin, recalling what Draco said when Harry first entered the shop. He had been defensive.
"So, I come in to check up on you? To make sure you're not doing something wrong?"
"Yes," Draco answered.
"And do I usually find something wrong?" Harry asked, unsure that if Draco was doing something shady, whether he would tell him the truth about it.
"No. I run a completely legitimate business," Draco answered honestly.
"Oh. Then is it my job to check up on all the businesses around here?"
Draco hesitated. "No. You only come into mine."
Harry thought for a moment. It sounded as though Harry hadn't any cause to be suspicious, yet frequented the shop to give Draco a hard time.
"A bit of a prat, am I?" Harry finally commented.
Draco smiled. "Something like that. Not that I've always been innocent. My father dealt in dark magic, so it's not unreasonable to suspect I may, as well." He quickly added. "But I don't."
Nodding and scratching his head. "I see. Then why would you help me?"
"To be perfectly honest, I'm not certain. Perhaps you'll be grateful enough to stop harassing me."
"If you help me, I promise I'll stop."
Draco wasn't at all certain what he was bargaining for. But if it would get Potter off his back, it may be worth it.
"It's a deal," he said and held out his hand to Harry.
Taking hold of the hand, Harry shook it. "Deal. By the way. You haven't told me your name."
"Draco. Draco Malfoy."
"Is that a real name?" Harry laughed and Draco scowled. "Oh, sorry," Harry apologized. "I've never heard of that name before. I don't think. I guess I don't remember." He frowned.
"Then for all you know, it might be your favorite name," Draco said smugly.
〪o 〫O〬 o〭
The first night in Draco's flat was awkward to say the least. Harry had a thousand questions, most of them relating to objects in Draco's place that he found so extraordinary, yet Draco found mundane. He was particularly fascinated by the food on a shelf that was somehow kept cold without refrigeration. Harry was equally amazed that merely waving a wand over it made it piping hot.
"I'll conjure a few personal items for tonight, but we'll have to go shopping tomorrow."
"But I don't have any money."
"Oh, you have money, of that I'm certain. But I have plenty of my own, so it's not a problem."
Harry had an expression of worrying on his face. If Draco interpreted it correctly, Harry wasn't comfortable with Draco paying his way. He chuckled to himself. Even in his forgetful state, Harry was still honorable.
"If it makes you feel better, you can pay me back when you've recovered."
Harry happily agreed, and smiled at Draco. The latter found it disconcerting to see the Auror without his usual scowl. He was having a difficult time reconciling the friendly manner in which Harry was treating him, with the face of the man who tormented him from time to time.
Then it occurred to Draco that others would see the same thing.
"If you're going to stay here, you should remain hidden. You won't be able to leave the flat."
"What? Why not?"
Thinking quickly, Draco answered, "Someone undesirable might recognize you and give your whereabouts to the person that did this to you."
"Oh, but I was hoping you could show me more about all those strange things you have downstairs. What am I going to do all day while you run the shop?"
Draco cocked his head in thought. Perhaps he could put Harry to good use, as sort of compensation for helping him. But what would his customers think about Harry Potter working in a potions shop in Knockturn Alley? His customers were usually particularly discreet. However, Draco didn't trust a one of them.
"I know. I'll cast a glamour on you. That way, you can come downstairs and help Mirabelle with stocking inventory, and possibly running the register."
"What's a glamour?" Harry inevitably asked.
Draco rolled his eyes. It was getting tedious having to explain everything. He tried his best to be patient, remembering that he had a plan, and things would be better for him in the long run.
"It's a spell to conceal your identity. I can make you appear different so no one will recognize you. You should use a different name as well."
"You're going to take away the one thing I remember about myself?" Harry cried. "Can't I at least keep my first name?"
Harry wasn't exactly a popular name, but neither was it unusual.
"All, right. I suppose if you look completely different and use a new last name, no one will suspect you are who you are," Draco conceded. "Pick something simple. Smith?"
Harry wrinkled his nose.
"No? How about Jones?"
"Hmm," Harry looked around the flat. He spotted a red book on the shelf that stood out among the black bound volumes. "Red. Redmond?" He looked to Draco. "How about that?"
Draco stroked his chin thoughtfully and nodded. "It's ambiguous enough to pass for a first or last name. It'll do. Harry Redmond it is."
Harry smiled proudly.
"Now for a new face to go with your new name," Draco raised his wand and muttered an incantation.
Harry's features shimmered briefly, then morphed into someone unrecognizable. His hair faded to a dull brown, his eyebrows and lashes to match. A light sprinkling of freckles appeared across his nose and cheeks. And his eyes changed from brilliant green to dark chocolate brown. The landscape of his face changed as well. Harry's nose shortened to a bit of a pug and his jawline softened, making him look somewhat like Pansy Parkinson, which Draco found amusing.
"There. What do you think?" Draco asked, motioning toward a mirror on the wall.
Harry's eyes grew large as he looked at his reflection.
"That's me? Is that what everyone will see?" Harry was beginning to feel as thought this was all more trouble than it was worth. "I don't know if I can get used to that face."
"I can make it so only you and I will see your true self if you'd like," Draco offered.
"Yes. I'd like that better."
With another wave of his wand and another incantation, Harry's face was his own again. He gazed into the mirror and smiled.
"Not that I think I'm such a looker," Harry explained. "It's just that I'm used to this one. And I'm afraid I'd jump in surprise every time I saw my reflection." He leaned closer to the mirror. "Although, the reflection is a bit different than I remembered. I look like a man. How old am I?"
"Twenty-four, same as me."
"And you're certain everyone will see that other face instead of this one?"
"Yes," Draco replied. "I deliberately gave you a nondescript, unmemorable glamour so you'll be less noticeable."
Harry smirked. "Do you think I'm noticeable the way I am?"
"Don't be so full of yourself, Potter. It's unbecoming," Draco said, annoyed that Harry seemed to try to get his goat. Abruptly, he said, "It's time for bed. I do have a shop to run in the morning."
Harry looked around. Although the flat was rather spacious for one room, there was only one bed.
"Uh, Drake? Where am I supposed to sleep?"
"You take the bed. I'll take chair. And it's Draco," he answered, emphasizing the O.
"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly. You'll never fit in that-"
Harry's words were cut off by the sudden transfiguration of the chair into a day bed, just long enough to accommodate Draco's height.
"Whoa!" Harry exclaimed. "I really hope I can do things like that when I remember how to use magic. Are you sure I can do magic?"
"You had a wand, didn't you?" Draco responded. "Trust me. You're quite powerful. Now, get some sleep Mr. Redmond. Tomorrow we begin working on getting all that back. The loo is behind that door. You'll find a toothbrush and flannel."
When Harry came back out, Draco went in to prepare for bed. Harry awkwardly pulled the sheet out and slipped into Draco's bed. Though he had looked about the room earlier, Harry examined it more closely now that he was alone. Everything had a place and was neatly arranged. More than neatly, things were meticulously arranged. Harry worried that he would be the proverbial bull in a china shop, as he was certain he was not as neat and tidy as Draco.
Draco returned and got into the newly transfigured day bed. He glanced at Harry and gave an uneasy half-smile.
"Good night," he said. "Nox." He heard Harry gasp and chuckled. "It's just a spell to turn off the light."
"Sorry," Harry laughed. "Good night."
Harry lay his head on the pillow, feeling lucky that Draco was such a kind and accommodating stranger. He could have easily fallen into the clutches of someone wishing to do him harm. Though he thought he would never fall asleep for the wild thoughts going through his head, the fluffy pillow and satiny bed covers soon lured him into dream land.
However, Draco lay on his impromptu bed staring up at the dark ceiling. He sure hoped he knew what he was doing. When Harry regained his memory, he would either be grateful for the help and finally treat Draco with some respect, or he would curse Draco for taking advantage, and possibly make his life a living Hell. It was a risk. He was banking on the rewards being worth it. A day or two of putting up with Potter in his life in exchange for getting him out of it for good, seemed a fair trade indeed.
〪o 〫O〬 o〭
Not sure how often I'll post, but I'll try not to take too long. Let me know what you think of the premise. I think this is probably the most predictable of my stories so far, but it's going to be more about the building of a relationship, rather than drama and revelations.
Thanks for reading!