Ravenna C. Tan: Amnesia 2 (Draco/Harry, PG)
Title: Amnesia, Pt. 2 of 6
Author: ravenna_c_tan
Rating: PG (this segment)
Prompt Set: 50.1
Prompt: #45 "Who?"
Word Count: 757 (this segment)
Summary: After losing his memory, Harry encounters someone very close to him. Part 2 of 6, completed.
Warnings: Mild violence.
Beta-reader: miraba
Notes: A six-part fic, each one for a different prompt in my 100quills prompt table.
Previous Chapter: Blank
Current Chapter:
I had slept a lot while in St. Mungo's. When I had dreams, I felt in the dreams like I had my memory back, and even if the feeling was false, it comforted me. In the dreams I knew people's names and sometimes when I woke up, I was right about them. So maybe sleep was good for me. I lay down to take the nap I had told Kingsley I was going to, in what they told me was my own bed. It did smell familiar and I put my wand on the nightstand where it felt right to put it.
Kingsley woke me a while later just to tell me he was leaving. My next babysitter had arrived and Kingsley was off on some mission. Good guy hero stuff, I suppose. I said goodbye and rolled back over and went back to sleep.
I dreamed about a dragon. I was flying on a broom and this dragon was trying to kill me. She was really angry and she breathed fire. I wasn't enjoying this dream very much, to tell you the truth, so I tried to wake up. When I finally did sit up, I was breathing hard and my previously scorched hand smarted.
Then I grabbed for my wand because there was someone in the room I didn't know. He was obviously a wizard, because he was reading by the light of his wand, the glow from the tip illuminating his blond hair and eyebrows. He looked up with a mild expression on his face at the noise I made as I fairly jumped out of bed.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, because somehow seeing him filled me with hostility.
I saw a flicker of emotions cross his face, but then he set his jaw. His voice was pained, though, as he said "I'm relieving Kingsley."
I hadn't seen him at the hospital. I didn't know him at all. "What's your name?"
"Draco Malfoy," he said, sitting perfectly still, the book still open in his lap, his wand still held up, as if he were afraid to move.
I pointed my wand at him, though I knew I had no idea how to use it. "Don't try anything funny. I don't trust you."
"Apparently not," he said, and slumped a bit, though his face still held that neutral, blank expression. "Maybe I should go. I'll get someone else."
"No." I said.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "No?"
"Not until you tell me who you are and... and..." I realized the absurdity of asking him to tell me why I didn't like him. "And why they sent you to watch me." A thought occurred to me then. What if he was working on the evil side? How did I know he was one of the good guys?
"Your paranoia is plain on your face, Harry." He folded the book and set it aside. "Look, I'm putting my wand down over here, okay?" He stood up and then laid his wand in the wooden chair where he had been sitting.
"I want an explanation," I said, shaking my wand at him like something dangerous could come out of it. I wondered if I could repeat the setting-something-on-fire trick. I was gratified when he flinched.
"This is going to take a lot more explaining than I can do in one sitting. Can you trust me on this?" He had his hands open and was taking very slow steps toward the door, which meant he was also walking toward me.
"I already told you I didn't trust you."
He sighed. "Harry, please. This is already difficult."
What happened next was I shouted at him to stop moving, or tried to, I waved the wand at him. He lunged at me and we fought for the wand. He was taller, his feet shod, he had the advantage, but I struggled with him. We ended up on the floor, with him on top of me, and the wand in his hand. I could not catch my breath.
He stood up, picked up his own wand and said, "I'm sorry, Harry," his face still a perfect mask. Then he ran--sprinted--from the room.
He had taken my wand. In a moment I was on my feet only to find the door would not open. I began to bang on it and scream at him. I needed that wand. And there were so many questions I needed answers to. Who was he? What was he to me?
And, why did I have tears on my face? The scent of him was still on my hands as I buried my face in them.
--
Next prompt: Parents.
Author: ravenna_c_tan
Rating: PG (this segment)
Prompt Set: 50.1
Prompt: #45 "Who?"
Word Count: 757 (this segment)
Summary: After losing his memory, Harry encounters someone very close to him. Part 2 of 6, completed.
Warnings: Mild violence.
Beta-reader: miraba
Notes: A six-part fic, each one for a different prompt in my 100quills prompt table.
Previous Chapter: Blank
Current Chapter:
I had slept a lot while in St. Mungo's. When I had dreams, I felt in the dreams like I had my memory back, and even if the feeling was false, it comforted me. In the dreams I knew people's names and sometimes when I woke up, I was right about them. So maybe sleep was good for me. I lay down to take the nap I had told Kingsley I was going to, in what they told me was my own bed. It did smell familiar and I put my wand on the nightstand where it felt right to put it.
Kingsley woke me a while later just to tell me he was leaving. My next babysitter had arrived and Kingsley was off on some mission. Good guy hero stuff, I suppose. I said goodbye and rolled back over and went back to sleep.
I dreamed about a dragon. I was flying on a broom and this dragon was trying to kill me. She was really angry and she breathed fire. I wasn't enjoying this dream very much, to tell you the truth, so I tried to wake up. When I finally did sit up, I was breathing hard and my previously scorched hand smarted.
Then I grabbed for my wand because there was someone in the room I didn't know. He was obviously a wizard, because he was reading by the light of his wand, the glow from the tip illuminating his blond hair and eyebrows. He looked up with a mild expression on his face at the noise I made as I fairly jumped out of bed.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, because somehow seeing him filled me with hostility.
I saw a flicker of emotions cross his face, but then he set his jaw. His voice was pained, though, as he said "I'm relieving Kingsley."
I hadn't seen him at the hospital. I didn't know him at all. "What's your name?"
"Draco Malfoy," he said, sitting perfectly still, the book still open in his lap, his wand still held up, as if he were afraid to move.
I pointed my wand at him, though I knew I had no idea how to use it. "Don't try anything funny. I don't trust you."
"Apparently not," he said, and slumped a bit, though his face still held that neutral, blank expression. "Maybe I should go. I'll get someone else."
"No." I said.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "No?"
"Not until you tell me who you are and... and..." I realized the absurdity of asking him to tell me why I didn't like him. "And why they sent you to watch me." A thought occurred to me then. What if he was working on the evil side? How did I know he was one of the good guys?
"Your paranoia is plain on your face, Harry." He folded the book and set it aside. "Look, I'm putting my wand down over here, okay?" He stood up and then laid his wand in the wooden chair where he had been sitting.
"I want an explanation," I said, shaking my wand at him like something dangerous could come out of it. I wondered if I could repeat the setting-something-on-fire trick. I was gratified when he flinched.
"This is going to take a lot more explaining than I can do in one sitting. Can you trust me on this?" He had his hands open and was taking very slow steps toward the door, which meant he was also walking toward me.
"I already told you I didn't trust you."
He sighed. "Harry, please. This is already difficult."
What happened next was I shouted at him to stop moving, or tried to, I waved the wand at him. He lunged at me and we fought for the wand. He was taller, his feet shod, he had the advantage, but I struggled with him. We ended up on the floor, with him on top of me, and the wand in his hand. I could not catch my breath.
He stood up, picked up his own wand and said, "I'm sorry, Harry," his face still a perfect mask. Then he ran--sprinted--from the room.
He had taken my wand. In a moment I was on my feet only to find the door would not open. I began to bang on it and scream at him. I needed that wand. And there were so many questions I needed answers to. Who was he? What was he to me?
And, why did I have tears on my face? The scent of him was still on my hands as I buried my face in them.
--
Next prompt: Parents.