Draco’s hands trembled slightly as he stared down at the vial of cerulean, swirling liquid. It had been eight months since he and Hermione had been working on this potion, Memoria Restora, an attempt to reverse the Obliviate curse she had cast on her parents during the war. Life had been smiling at her but her parents still lacked for her to call it perfect. The thought of giving them back their memories had consumed her, and Draco, who had become a potion’s master, was her most trusted collaborator on this personal project. In all honesty, he felt like he owed her.
But now staring at the potion he’d brewed with glawackus’ tears and forget-me-not petals, Draco hesitated, anxiety bubbling in his chest. From both, fear and excitement. The next step in their research was to evaluate possible side effects in humans and they had no one to test it on but themselves. Or rather just Draco himself. A decision they made after Hermione mentioned wanting children with Ron.
“Are you sure about this? Maybe we should water it down first.” Hermione said gently, glancing up from her notes. Her eyes filled with worry.
Draco shook his head, swallowing his nerves. “Someone has to do it.” he shrugged, flashing Hermione a tight smile. “Besides, the mice did just fine. I’m sure the worst that can happen is that I grow an extra limb. Think of the headlines, Granger, ‘Malfoy Mutates for Alchemy’.”
Hermione didn’t laugh. Draco sighed dramatically. “Fine, no humor today. But if we’re going to make any progress, this is the way to go.”
Without waiting for her to argue, he lifted the vial to his lips and drank. The potion tasted bitter, coating his throat with a viscous texture, and almost instantly, the lab began to blur around him, a blue fog invading his eyes.
Once it dissipated, nothing seemed to happen. He stood still, holding onto the working bench, his pulse quickening with anticipation of some magical effect. And then, slowly, a feeling crept up on him.
Memories –long-buried, all tangled and distorted– began surfacing, swirling in his mind like smoke from dying flames. Faces blurred before his eyes, harsh voices and vicious laughter invaded his thoughts. And he felt hands. Rough, unwanted, violent hands all over his body.
A wave of nausea hit him, and before he could control it, the memories came crashing back all at once. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, feeling disgusting. It was too much. He glanced at Hermione through glazed over eyes and told her, or at least tried to tell her, that they would meet again the next day to document his progress.
Draco didn’t remember how he’d manage to leave the lab and make his way back home. The cold air stung his skin as he walked briskly, his mind spinning. The images he had seen, obliviated memories, had left him shaking. His father’s face. Those of the death eaters, who had invaded the place he once called home. And all those hands.
As his feet automatically guided him through the streets, his mind was elsewhere trying to make sense of it all. All those times he had struggled with Harry when being intimate. The times he had pulled away. The times the feeling of Harry’s touch had drifted from desired to repulsive out of the blue. The times he had frozen in place, unable to recognize the concerned face of the love of his life. It all was beginning to fall into place in a sickening way. Lucius had obliviated him, but the events had never truly left him.
Draco’s steps faltered and he pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing. He didn’t want to go home like this and have Harry see him broken. But there was nowhere else to go, and deep down he knew Harry was all he needed at that moment.
Unbeknownst to him, Hermione had noticed something went wrong. His face paling and the sudden distance in his eyes gave it away. Right after Draco left she had rushed to floo call Harry, her voice filled with urgency. “Something went wrong, Harry. He took the potion. I figured it had just made him dizzy but he wouldn’t answer when I called his name. I think there-there’s more to it.” she sighed. “Please, make sure he’s okay.”
—
When Draco finally made it through the door of their home, Harry was waiting for him.
“Draco, love.” Harry’s voice was gentle, laced with utter worry. He could see the tension in Draco’s body, his shoulders were hunched over and his hands balled into fists.
“Don’t.” Draco muttered, brushing past him. He didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to face any of it. But Harry followed him into the living room, unrelenting as usual.
“I’m not going to leave.” Harry said firmly. “Hermione told me something went wrong with the potion.”
Draco clenched his jaw with his eyes fixed on the floor. “Of course she did.” He spoke through his teeth, voice sharp with frustration. But he wasn’t angry at her or at Harry, it was aimed at everything that was crashing down on him.
Harry stepped closer, his gaze soft but steady. “Tell me what happened.”
Draco shook his head, but Harry reached out, gently grabbing his arm. The touch made Draco flinch, a cold chill running down his spine. Harry quickly pulled back, scared he’d hurt him. He frowned with worry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I-”
“The potion works just fine.” Draco snapped, letting out a hollow chuckle, laced with irony. He lifted his head for a second to look at Harry, just to look down again, as tears threatened to escape his eyes. “I was obliviated.” He whispered with a trembling voice. “By my father.”
Harry’s heart sank under the weight of Draco’s words. “W-what? What do you mean?”
Draco exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair, the memories too raw, too close. He collapsed on the couch, hiding his face in his hands. “During the war… when they were staying at the manor– the death eaters… Greyback, Pettigrew… and the rest. They-” He paused to squeeze his eyes shut and then opened them wide, forcing himself back into the present. “They did things to me. Hurt me.” His voice cracked and he stopped again, his throat tightening with shame. He could only manage to whisper his next words. “They touched me and… and rubbed themselves against me and stuff.”
Harry’s eyes widened, anger flashing in them for a brief moment before he pushed it aside, focusing on Draco. He rushed to sit next to him on the couch, his hands hovering over Draco’s body, unsure if he should touch him. “Oh, Draco…”
“And my father was there. He just watched.” Draco continued, his voice rising with frustration, as he finally looked up at Harry, with angry tears now running down his cheeks. “And then he… he just made me forget.” His breath hitched, hands shaking.
“I’m so sorry, love.” Harry was able to whisper despite the knot forming in his throat. He wanted to say so much more, but every word he thought of seemed hollow, useless in a moment like this. “I’m sorry.” He repeated and carefully placed a reassuring hand on Draco’s back and remained quiet, waiting for Draco to ease into his touch.
“Harry, all this time…” Draco spoke, drifting his gaze away from Harry’s, angrily wiping the tears from his face. “I’ve had these… problems with you. With touching, when we get close, you know.” He paused to take a deep breath to try and regain some composure, as he was sure he was slipping into panic. “I never understood why I was like that. But now-” He couldn't finish before a sudden, choked sob burst out, loud and uncontrollable, cutting him off. He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, fiercely, in an attempt to stem the wave of fresh tears ready to spill, all to no avail. He gulped for air before finishing. “It’s like a part of me never forgot and now I get it and I hate it. I hate him.”
Harry’s chest tightened at the sight of Draco breaking down, his normally composed and sharp partner unraveling before him. He came closer to him, protectively wrapping an arm around his shoulder, softly drawing circles to try to ground him. “Draco,” he began, crouching down a little, trying to look for Draco’s gaze. “You didn’t deserve what happened. Any of it. And it wasn’t your fault.” He spoke gentle but firm, knowing well how Draco’s mind worked, when dealing with dreadful memories of the abuse he had endured in his past. “And you are also not to blame for the consequences of it, only them.”
Draco shook his head as he sniffed, his breaths fast and shallow. He withdrew his hands from his face and clutched at his sides tightly, the memories becoming too present. He tried to focus on the pain from his nails digging into his skin, but he kept seeing them and feeling them. And soon his mind dragged him deeper, taking him back to every horror he’d been forced to endure.
He saw them all –his father, the cruel sneer, the snap of that cursed cane against his skin. Every word Lucius had spat, every threat, weighed down like chains. And then, the time they’d held his mother’s life over him, the only person he cared for. He could still feel the burn of the Cruciatus curse seering through him, the endless minutes of agony under his father’s wand. It was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. Harry’s voice was distant, a fading echo as he fought to pull him back from that dark, consuming abyss.
“Draco! Hey, love.” Harry spoke with urgency, his heart aching as he took Draco’s hands in his –to stop him from hurting himself– and placed them on his own chest, guiding him through deep breaths. “Look at me, love. I’m right here. Please breathe with me.” Harry repeated as a mantra, pleadingly, and Draco’s eyes snapped open at him, filled with terror. Harry had rarely seen him so scared. “You’re safe.”
Draco forced himself to follow Harry’s instructions and match his breathing. His mind was slowly coming back to the present, but his body didn’t seem to catch up. He felt himself trembling all over, as his muscles began to spasm, lightly, yet painfully, out of his control. It happened whenever he thought about the Cruciatus for a second too long. It felt as though a fraction of the pain his father had inflicted on him with the curse, somehow seeped into the present, bleeding through time.
He tried to shove it down and just focus on Harry’s beautiful green eyes, but a particularly violent spasm tore through his ribs, and he couldn’t suppress the pained wince that escaped him.
“What is it, Draco?” Harry asked hastily, frowning with concern. He gently cupped Draco’s face in his hands, as if he could find the answer in his eyes.
“I think-” Draco stopped mid sentence to clear his voice, that had come out raspy from all the crying. “I’m going to have another attack.” He finished, immediately lowering his face again as it twisted in agony. He continued to speak through gritted teeth. “It hurts, Harry. Make it stop.”
Harry’s heart raced with fear at Draco’s words. He knew immediately what he meant. They had gone through this before, but it never got any easier. “Alright.” He spoke, composing himself, knowing that at least one of them had to remain calm. “I’ll bring your potion, okay? Hold on, love” He jumped into action, out of the couch, not before planting a soft kiss on Draco’s temple.
Harry returned quickly to his place next to Draco. He made him tilt his head back as he brought the vial of potion to his lips, knowing that Draco's trembling hands wouldn’t allow him to take the potion on his own. But before Draco could drink it, the pain surged and he gagged, doubling over as nausea overtook him, and before he could stop it, he threw up on the carpet, gasping and shuddering.
“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, over and over, his voice panicked and small. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Harry said, casting a wandless Tergeo. He wiped Draco’s mouth gently and guided him once again, to take the potion. Once Draco swallowed with a slight grimace, Harry held him close waiting for the pain to cease. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t need to be sorry for anything.”
Draco’s breathing began to slow, the potion easing the pain, but his body was still trembling. Harry gently shifted, guiding Draco to lean back with him on the couch, never loosening his protective hold, and he reached for the blanket at the edge of the couch, pulling it over both of them. Draco allowed himself to be pulled into the comfort of the embrace.
“You are going to be okay.” Harry murmured, brushing a hand through Draco’s hair. “I’m not going to leave you. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
Draco closed his eyes, his breathing still ragged but beginning to even out. “You don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I should have… I should have fought back, done something. I just stood there like an idiot. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”
Harry’s expression hardened, fury flashing in his green eyes. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare blame yourself. Those bastards- Greyback, the others, … your father- they are the ones who deserve to rot in Azkaban. Not you.” His voice softened as he cradled Draco’s face, trying to focus on his eyes to ease the hatred boiling his blood. “If you want me to, I could do something about it. I could lengthen their sentences. Anything to make them pay.”
Draco shook his head, fresh tears slipping down his cheeks. “No. I don’t want anyone to find out. It’s… it’s embarrassing.”
Harry’s heart broke for the tenth time that night at that last part. He couldn't stand the thought of Draco feeling like that. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, leave that to the people who did this.” He kissed Draco’s forehead softly. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to but you don’t need to be ashamed. Especially not with me. Never with me.”
Draco let out a shuddering breath, his body slowly relaxing in Harry’s arms. But the shame clung to him like a dark cloud, his mind drifting to the past few years with Harry.
“Harry… I…” Draco began, his voice catching in his throat. He hesitated, unsure if he should continue, but the words poured out before he could stop them. “I know… I know things between us have been… hard. I mean, when we’re, you know… intimate.”
Harry frowned, genuinely confused. That had never been a problem to him. “Draco, where are you getting at?”
Draco bit his lip, his hands shaking as he stared down at them. “I know I can’t give you what you want. I can’t… I don’t…” He swallowed hard. “I know I pull away sometimes, or freeze up. I know you want more from me, and I– I understand if you don’t want me anymore. If you want to leave because I’m… dirty and used. Because I can’t give you what you deserve.”
Harry’s eyes widened, a suffocating pressure settling over his heart in a painful way. “Draco… no.” He whispered, his voice thick with sadness. “No, don’t say that.”
Draco looked away, his jaw clenched tightly. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Harry. I know I’m broken. You deserve someone who is… whole.”
Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes, his heart aching as he reached for Draco’s hands, holding them tightly. “You are not broken.” Harry whispered, his voice trembling. “And you’re not dirty or used. Don’t ever say that about yourself. What you’ve been through… what was forced on you, doesn’t define you, or your value as a person. I love you, Draco. I love you, all of you, no matter what. You’re everything to me.”
Draco’s lip quivered as he stared at Harry, disbelieving. “But I can’t give you what you want in the room. You must… you must be so frustrated with me.”
Harry shook his head, as tears began to stream freely down his face. He didn’t bother wiping them away, needing Draco to see how much it hurt him to hear him think that way. He squeezed Draco’s hands tighter, bringing them to his lips. “I don’t care about that. You’re all I want, Draco. You, just as you are. We’ll always go at your pace. I’m happy just being with you, holding you, loving you. Whatever goes beyond that… none of it matters as much as you. You make me happy, Draco. You– exactly as you are.”
Draco’s breath hitched, his heart swelling with love and hope, but disbelief still settled in his eyes. “But… How can you say that? After everything…”
“Because I love you.” Harry said fiercely, his voice firm. “I’ve loved you for years, Draco. It’s never been about what happens in bed. It’s you that I want. Your happiness, your safety. That’s all that matters to me. I’ll always be here, no matter what we go through.”
Draco let out a sob. “I– I love you too.” he whispered shakily, his body trembling as Harry’s words broke through the shame and fear that gripped him for so long. “But I’m scared, Harry.” he confessed, his voice fragile. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to…”
“You don’t have to.” Harry said, his tears falling harder now. “You don’t ever have to do anything you’re not ready for. I’ll wait as long as it takes, or even if it never happens. You are enough for me, just like this.”
Draco’s chest heaved, the emotions overwhelming him as he looked at Harry, tears blurring his sight. “You really mean that?”
Harry cupped Draco’s face in his hands, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on his lips. “Of course I mean it. I’ve never been happier than I am with you.”
Draco closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. He believed Harry. His love, his unwavering support, wrapped around him like a warm blanket, melting away the fear and shame that consumed him.
“Thank you.” he whispered, unable to stop his tears.
Harry pulled him into a tight embrace, kissing the top of his head. “Always.” he murmured.
Draco’s body sagged against Harry’s. He rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, his breathing evening out as the rise and fall of Harry’s chest soothed him. They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms. The weight of the heavy evening slowly easing away.
Eventually, Harry shifted, his eyes looking for Draco’s. “Do you want to lie down? We could watch TV or just… rest. Whatever you need.”
Draco nodded as he rubbed his eyes, exhaustion finally catching up to him. “Yeah.” he whispered. “We could watch a movie.”
Harry helped Draco up from the couch and guided him to their bedroom, carrying most of his weight. He helped him lie on the bed and made sure he was comfortable, before searching through their DVD’s, Draco’s newest muggle obsession. They picked Room with a View, and Harry settled down beside Draco, pulling him into his arms.
Draco let out a long breath, his head resting against Harry’s chest. The memories still lingered in his mind, but the shame, the fear, the doubt– it all felt less suffocating in Harry’s embrace.
“Thank you.” Draco said again, his voice soft and full of emotion.
Harry kissed the top of his head, enjoying the smell of his shampoo, his chest swelling with love for the man in his arms. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “I love you, Draco. That’s never going to change.”
Draco smiled weakly, glancing up at Harry with a slight tilt of his head, wordlessly asking for a kiss. It was a silent plea that Harry understood easily, gently leaning in to capture Draco’s lips in a soft kiss. Draco’s body relaxed, the quiet remaining tremors finally ceased completely. He allowed himself to believe that with Harry by his side, things could be okay. And for now, that was enough.