What's in a memory?

Chapter Twenty-Four

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Harry's memory had already lasted a few hours this time. After some truly spectacular and innovative bedding, if Draco did say so himself. It was as if his Harry somehow yearned for him as much as Draco missed him. 

"How long this time?" Draco asked almost to himself, dreading all possible responses. One minute, one hour, one day; it would never be enough. It was almost cruel to have him back just to lose him all over again. 

"I'm- I'm not sure." Harry mumbled, staring down at himself. As if to check he was still there, "who can tell? This curse-hex is so bloody complex clearly if you, Hermione, St Mungo's and the departments haven't cracked it yet ... but I'm here now Dray," He whispered softly, pulling his husband fully against his satiated body, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. "I'm so sorry I let this happen to us, I sent Ron a patronus the mmoment I realised what I was doing Dray, the minute it looked dangerous, but it was too late it seems, I'm so so sorry." Harry confessed brokenly into his husband's shoulder.

"I know, Deerheart. I know. Ron told me." Draco muttered, "You're still a bloody gryffindor, even after all these years. But I love you. And I know you tried." Harry choked, snuggling closer. Only Draco could feel the small sobs he allowed to slip out, in the safety of his lover's acceptance. 

"If only there were a way to track it...or for me to remember..."

"Do you have any idea what brought you back?" Draco asked, intrigued by the notion, maybe there was another way of looking at the problem.

Draco selfishly wished it was him, but if that were the key it would have been unlocked the first time Harry had set eyes on him.

"I'm not sure," Harry repeated, staring fixated at his hands. "The ring and the bond magic, I think," Harry raised his ring, watching it glint in the candlelight of their bedroom. Draco hoped it'd be enough to keep his husband around longer this time. "I can still feel the magic of the promises within it surging through me." 

Draco smiled. 

"Just a ring, my arse." Harry huffed, laughing at Draco, leaning over awkwardly to kiss his husband languidly, "to think I fell for that!"

"I wasn't going to exactly tell you the truth, was I? You're a suspicious sort, do you know that? Didn't want you to refuse it."

"I'm in love with you whatever my age Dray, I would have taken your ring," Harry murmured gently.

"You ran away!" Draco accused hotly.

"No, I believe you'll find I went for a run." Harry countered.

"See? That's an admission if ever I heard one." 

They chuckled in their post-orgasmic state. High on life. High on each other.

"Need you to stay." Draco whimpered, tearily.

"Shh, I'm here now," Harry said soothingly, his hand now running through Draco's blond hair.

"It's not enough; Moments with you. I need the whole thing." He said brokenly.

"I know," Harry whispered sympathetically, rolling Draco to face him in the cradle of his arms. "You can crack this. I believe you can," then restated more firmly, "I know you can, we are going to get it all back, promise. Because you're the best." He carefully wiped the tears from his beloved's face with his fingers.

Draco gave a wet laugh, "Yeah, I'm the best. I love you, Harry."

"I love you too.....Precious." Draco punched Harry half-heartedly and they fell into easy laughter once more.

+

After a quick cleanup, (thank Godric for magic), Harry pecked his lips and then resumed his daily routine, as if it were any other day. Well, one spent away from work in any case. As Kreacher made some jacket potatoes for lunch, Harry got a headstart on some of the chores that had been neglected in his absence. Draco hovered nearby, looming over him as if waiting for the memories to evaporate again.

"I'm fine, Dray," Harry protested.

"I know," he said snootily. 

"How would you know?" The ravenette countered.

"By the way you hold yourself; Less guarded and twitchy more self-assured. It's beautiful."

"Hmm, good to know." Harry smiled to himself.

"Like you'll remember." Dray half-joked, half-apologized, hugging him from behind.

Harry leant into it, before:

"What?" yelping from the stinging hex. He recovered, span around then sprinted after Draco who had stolen his wand from his holster.

"Give that back" he ordered hotly.

"Make me." The blond challenged pausing at the foot of the staircase, flirtily. 

And when had Harry ever backed down from a challenge like that?

Laughing like a teenager he joined Draco in his little game.

+

As they finally sat down for the lunch their house elf had prepared, freshly showered from round two or was it three? Harry had lost count.

He happily munched away but watched as Draco picked at his food, absently. 

"What's up?" Harry asked between mouthfuls.

"I think I need to go to the hospital." Draco offered reluctantly.

"Okay."

"I need more files." He said apologetically.

"Okay," Harry repeated.

"I wouldn't normally leave you but..."

"I said okay." Harry interrupted. "And It seems like the perfect time for it?"

"Well, kind of. I don't mean that to be insulting, I'm so glad you're back. But it's safer to leave you when you're like this."

"Go. Already." Harry stated with a flick of his hand.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Won't cure me sitting around, er... watching me all day." He said winking at Draco's sweet pink blush.

"If you're sure?" Though he had a look in his eye as if he were already one foot out the floo.

"Go on Dray. I should probably visit the ministry anyway...give my official witness statement. And check up on progress and stuff," Harry added sighing. Swiftly casting a stasis charm over the food as he stood. Kreacher grumbled incredulously in the background.

"See you later," Harry promised with a kiss.

"You better!" Draco warned, knowing full well Harry had no control over it, logically. But he would kill him if he broke another promise. He grabbed one more, lingering stolen kiss before turning and apparating away.

+

Harry apparated straight to his own office area. Unlike the junior Aurors, he had his own office space at the back of the pen. On his familiar battered desk, sat hundreds of magically balanced files, scrolls, and piled messages. Harry groaned at the sight, maybe he could get a trainee to help clear it.

Now that was a thought. 

Delegate. Streamline. He'd always hated paperwork; It got in the way of the real auror work, in Harry's opinion. All this bureaucracy. It was bad enough he had to sit in all the meetings.

Maybe it was time to get a personal assistant, He mused.

Robard's was always after Harry handing some of his workload over, after all. 

("Go home!" he would say, "You're not meant to be a permanent fixture.")

Harry slumped down into his worn chair, careful to avoid knocking over any of the precarious piles and diligently began to write out a statement of that fateful night that he was attacked. He described his main suspect: Ramos Luthenborg-Williams in as much detail as possible, who he saw in the warehouse.

He noted as much as he could about the rest of the gang who, he recalled, all wore deep green robes. A younger, inexperienced Harry would have assumed Ex-Slytherin Death Eaters, but he had since grown to accept that evil comes in all forms... and colours. 

He wrote down the descriptions including the magical auras and signatures that he could identify of the group. But details seemed to slip through his grasp like sand. Melting away under his scrunity when he looked close, making him feel somehow foggy and the edges of his vision register a black haze.

However, he could still taste some of their magic on his tongue, even now, the bitter tang of cigarette smoke, the sharp undertones of lemongrass, and was that vinegar?; tantalizing his memory, mockingly.

Harry recoiled as he recalled the hint of garam masala from one of the men, his face blurred but his scent strong still.

And worst of all, the ringleader, Ramos, who had a grin that still chilled Harry to the bone and yet crucial details kept alluding him.

He was vile that much remained clear, and he smelled, to Harry, like singed human hair and something darker. Ramos had been dressed completely in tight black robes, clearly custom-made. (His long association with Draco allowed him to spot such niceties at a distance now). There had been concealed pockets in the lining of his cloak.

Maybe his next line of questioning should be the tailors specializing in woven fabric robes with magically concealed pockets. Harry made a note and sent it off to Ron with his patronus, not trusting the internal origami note system for some unknown reason.

He tried to take deep breaths and remember everything that he could from that night, as he had been trained. Deliberately casting his mind back, despite the ever-growing darkness looming ominously around him:

-Harry's memory recall -

Harry gripped his wand tightly, he came alone, a stupid decision upon reflection but he needed to catch these guys before they relocated. Harry had spent weeks tracking down these foes and he would not be bested by them. He knew Draco was working, so he had quickly sent a note to Andromeda pleading with her to pick up Teddy from Grimmauld to relieve Molly. Her response was short and polite: Of Course.

Harry slithered silently, a shadow along the walls of the old warehouse. It used to be for muggle car repair but now sat abandoned, or so the British police believed. He had every reason to suspect that this was where the cronies and lackeys gathered, collected supplies, and distributed them. If Harry could find evidence, maybe provide a pensieve memory, all these guys would be locked up for life. 

Harry peered around the corner, all clear, and began to circle the building. He cast a notice-me-not-charm over himself.

He had apparated half an hour away and had taken a taxi in order not to alert any warning systems they had in place.

Harry carefully kept hold of his bursting magic, he had been unable to run since this morning due to all the paperwork on his desk. He was doing his best to get through it whilst Juan was on paternity leave but it was mind-numbingly dull. Harry had thought he should have snuck down to the training rooms and to have a quick workout before he left, as he had planned but time was of the essence here, and he'd deal. That's what he did. 

No, he heard ringing in his head. That's what he had done. It was Draco's voice, resonating through him. "No more sacrifices", he had sobbed at Harry's bedside the last time he was in hospital, "no more stupid, impulsive decisions from your bloody saviour complex. I can't do this anymore Harry, please. Not if we're going to have a baby."

But it wasn't a sacrifice, was it?

Harry was torn, this was his life, it was all he knew, tracking and being tracked by madmen. But if Draco could see him now, standing outside a suspicious warehouse,  against an unknown force, he would....

Bloody hell, he was alone, that wasn't protocol and it wasn't safe. He should call for backup. Now.

Just as he sent off his patronus, with instructions to Ron, he heard a door opening. A man in a burgundy robe stood there. It almost looked like- 

Merlin, it was.

Harry's blood ran cold. 

He was in trouble.

+

Harry cautiously followed Auror Davies into the building. He turned, seeing and not seeing Harry in one fell swoop.

"Who's there?" his voice echoed in the apparently empty workshop. 

Harry remained stock still and silent. 

"Huh," he turned away again, "Lumos" His wand flamed white light, raising it high into the air, he turned in a circle, "Must be the first one," he muttered to himself and unwittingly to Harry.

Auror Davies was one of the finest senior Aurors officially. Remarkable close record, excellent finds, one of the best. Someone Harry had looked up to.

The older Auror had been briefly partnered with Ron shortly after he came out of training. who Davies found 'insufferable' and 'too by the book'.

Ron, for crying out loud, that should have been the first red flag.

Ron had also complained that he never worked evenings and got dumped with all the paperwork. When Ron enquired further, all Davies had to say was, "You're the rookie, I'm the senior, you listen to me!" Evidently, Davies moonlighted as a part of Luthenborg's lackeys.

He had been signed off ill the past month, his healers had said he was getting too old for the workforce after the last assignment with his new partner, Francesca, when he had struck a victim, letting the perpetrator escape. Harry wished he could remember the name of the young girl but she certainly wasn't their prime suspect on the case. They declared him unfit for duty and for the first time, Harry was starting to question whether his aim was truly off. 

"Davies." Someone called from the far corner. 

Harry turned towards the voice. An blonde woman, who spoke with a slight french accent. who Harry thankfully didn't recognise, stood there. 

"You're late." she barked.

"I thought you said ten."

"The meeting was at nine." Her voice like a whip.

"You're a hardarse, Jen. It's not always easy for me to get away, unseen." He argued.

 A cracking sound resonated throughout the warehouse. 

Four henchmen arrived, all dressed in the same deep green robes. 

One was a potions specialist Harry had worked with before, Carstairs, she worked with the auror department regularly and helped create vertiserum for the tight-lipped. Harry thought he could trust her completely. He swore to himself silently. On top of Davies' betrayal, it was like a punch to the gut. 

"Wha-what's going on guys?" Davies' voice began to sound uncertain.

"We need to know who's on the case." Jen threatened, taking a step forward.

"Erm", he paused. he was well aware of who was assigned their case, now he was no longer in the pen as an option, he was even aware of who it had passed onto since it became a larger, more important investigation.  "Auror Malfoy-Potter." He grunted out.

"Damn and I'm on paternity leave so I'm no use to you guys at the moment." Said a very famillar voice from inside one of the green robes. 

Harry staggered back at the sound of his auror partner, amongst these villians.

"No matter," a deep voice rumbled from the opposite wall. 

Ramos, Harry recognised him from the file. His record was squeaky clean, too clean.

For someone whose name had recurred in two fatal cases and in this case from three individual sources.

"Ah, and it seems he's joined the party." With a wave of his hand, Harry felt his notice-me-not charm disintegrate. 

+

Harry fought valiantly, but in the end, there were just too many of them. He cast one spell after another.

"Expelliarmous." //"Petrificus Totalus." // "Ligare."// "stupify."

He wanted to bring them all to justice, the right way. But a few, he was dimly aware, apparated away with the product, leaving only their magical signatures behind. But others appeared in their place to fight. Harry could taste magic and blood on his tongue. He disarmed, stunned, bound, and froze reflexively under ceaseless attack.

Some managed to limp and crawl away before Harry struck them to the floor. The more they fought back, the faster and harder Harry's magic appeared to react. However, with this many assailants and no back up arriving, he knew he was in trouble. Harry thought he had heard Luthenborg raise some sort of ward around the muggle building which if he got Half-a-second, he really should dismantle to let a team in. Supposing Ron had intercepted the message. 

But here he was alone, fighting off skilled fighters with little or no thought to which spell he was casting or how anymore. His brain had developed the characteristic fog, as adrenaline surged within him,  he wasn't even certain all the spells he was using even existed. He merely thought of them lying struck on the floor and then half were. 

He smirked triumphant when the younger female approached once more. What did Davies call her?

Jen.

She physically leapt at him, abandoning magic to Harry's surprise. They tousled, he pushed her to the ground, his magic still firing unconsciously as needed. Whilst he pinned her down, she secretly withdrew a blade from within her clothes and sliced his left arm.

It stung. Ached. But Harry was no stranger to pain. Letting it fuel him, He imagined her far away from him and the next minute she was thrown back into the shelves in the far corner. Slithering down to the floor, apparently out cold.

Another wizard approached, this one burly and Dudley-like in shape and sneer alone. He took advantage of Harry's turned back. And launched himself onto him bodily. This one was a skilled fighter, but no match for a trained auror of Harry's experience. Harry flung him to the ground with his superior muscle and grabbed the advancing thugs with his bare hands and bashed their heads together until they lay still on the floor. Harry quickly muttered, "Ligare" to bind all the bodies at his feet.

Suddenly he was face to face with Juan. His partner. And he froze. 

"I don't want to hurt you." Harry pleaded.

But Juan drew closer forward, laughing, "The Great Harry Potter, wants to save me. How utterly predictable." He threw in his face, contemptuously 

"I can help." Harry offered, desperate.

"I don't need your help." He sneered, but his eyes told a different story as he frantically looked around the room at his fallen comrades. 

"What about your family? Your wife? your baby?"

Juan looked stricken. "I'm doing this for him. You already dealt with my wife" He flung out at Harry, sounding hysterical. "She's over there somewhere. I don't know what you hit her with. I couldn't rouse her."

"Get on with it." Ramos yelled. "Grab him." 

"I'm sorry," Juan whispered before darting forward.

He was a fair fighter but Harry had bested him many times before in the training gym. He dealt him with him compassionately with two felling strokes,  sealing his fate with a wandless spell,  securing Juan to the ground. 

"Get him" Ramos ordered ruthlessly, as Harry looked up. 

Auror Davies was stood before him. His wand pointed outward, he cast a hex, one that bit into Harry's skin, flesh and muscle, leaving him another open wound, making him stagger and fall to one knee, breathing heavily.

He'd inspect it later.

With a swift move, Harry fractured his femur and he fell with a groaned curse. Harry's eyes grew wide as he realized who his next opponent was:

Previously concealed by the darkness, Harry was aghast to see he now faced a third auror,  one he never imagined to see standing in the field, grinning evilly down at him. 

"Oh I'm going to enjoy this," Auror Phillips announced, he was a field training auror at the academy. He and Harry had not gotten along, when he saw him in passing. Always resentful of Harry's wins. "Bringing the great Malfoy-Potter to his knees until he begs."

"I have to say though, you have learnt some excellent skills in the field, and I'm pretty sure if you were to have survived the unspeakables would be fascinated by some of the wandless half-blood shit you made up tonight."

Harry threw a shield up at the last second, deflecting Phillips' unforgivable.  Harry tried to strengthen himself from the safety of his shields, and cast another Expelliarmous. Phillip's wand happily flew into his hand. Phillips growled at the sight.

Renewed in his anger, he ran towards Harry, who threw him up and over his shoulder despite the gaping wounds. The resounding crack echoed loudly in the room. Harry breathed heavily, as Phillip's grabbed hold of Harry's weakened left arm and twisted it painfully. Harry yelled in pain, seeing black dots invade his vision. 

Harry seized the proffered arm, and yanked it from it's socket it with a final drag on his magic. "What has he threatened you with? What do you have to gain from this?"

"Power." Phillip's whined.

"I promised him nothing more than he's due." Ramos trilled, across the room still completely untouched. 

With Harry distracted, and in pain, he missed the two wizards stealthily approaching. With a swift move they overpowered him. Harry struggled but was no match, exhausted as he was.

"Bind him" Ramos called, and a second later Harry felt the silver rope bind him.

"Harry Potter, it's a pleasure." He cooed.

"Malfoy-Potter" he spat, tied as he was. He willed his body to heat, to sizzle, to burn the ropes that bound him. He could do it. 

Given a little time to recharge.

He was already feeling out the wards surrounding them, feeling the magical tell-tell buzz, looking for the chink in the defense.

Ramos was surrounded and circled by the remainder of his crew but one was missing, Harry tried to look around the space but was rudely denied when Ramos' calloused hand seized his chin.

"Drink," He ordered, his voice like glass. Harry firmly refused, his mouth pressed closed, as the foul liquid poured despite their efforts.

Suddenly, a rewakened Jen approached with a syringe. 

Harry weakly thrashed against his bindings, as the needle pierced the back of his neck.

"Goodbye Harry." She murmured as she pressed the plunger down.

"Oblivisci," they chanted in chorus and the spell activated the injected liquid.

Harry saw black.

+

Harry gasped as he pulled back from the memory, he found himself staring blearly at his office area, knowing he was slipping. He could feel the memories of today fading away, dissolving, slowly regressing back to his former self as the spell took hold again.

He frantically grabbed a stray piece of parchment. Harry knew he didn't have time to detail it all, so he wrote three simple words before he forgot it all, hoping it would give the others a clue and him some protection. He couldn't remember the exact names,

who was the blonde?

The Aurors?

He couldn't recall. But he had to write something and he couldn't stay here. He was in danger, even now.

But from what? It was so close, yet so distant. He couldn't stay.

There was a piece of parchment in his hand. bearing his handwriting, it was slanted, crooked, he couldn't remember where it came from or why he had written it, or when, but it was certainly his, it read:

Traitors

Betrayal

Poison

 

Fear taking grip of him, he apparated to the nearest person of safety, using every once of magical strength he had. Before the darkness that was threatening could claim who he was totally, once more. 

Which is how he ended up crashing through the impossible barriers of the Unspeakables' wards, and into Hermione's arms. 

"Harry," she screamed, shocked.

He shouldn't be here.

He couldn't be here.

"Help," he whispered, "Keep me safe." Thrusting the parchment forward, before the blackness overcame him entirely.

+