Found, Never Lost

Chapter 11: A Restless Night

Still Monday, June 21, 2004
Berlin-Charlottenburg, around 23:20

No explosion.

No fire.

Harry.

Lying on the floor.

In the middle of the kitchen.

Curled up on his side.

Motionless.

What the hell?!

Three steps brought him to Harry's side. There was nothing nearby that Harry could have hit his head on and he didn't see blood anywhere. Which was a good sign. The fact that Harry's eyes were wide open and unblinking was probably not.

He touched Harry's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Harry?"

No reaction. He shook a little harder.

"Harry!"

Nothing.

Shit! What now? He put a hand on Harry's chest. To his relief, he appeared to be breathing normally and his heartbeat was strong and steady.

Draco bit his lip. The only awakening spell he knew was Enervate, but he had never heard of it being used on someone who hadn't been Stunned or Stupefied. Should he risk casting it on Harry when he didn't know what was wrong with him? He had no idea. Granger would know, but Granger wasn't here and he had no way of relaying a message to her.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

How could he get a hold of Granger without an owl or a fireplace? There was no way he could Apparate all the way to London, and of course he had no Portkey. Damn Potter! Why did the stupid sod have to live as a Muggle? What did Muggles do when they got ill? Wait! He knew this! Granger had told him about it. They called a Muggle healer... a doctor. But he didn't know any doctors and the only healer he knew was Granger.

Muggle.

Phone.

Doctor.

Healer.

Granger.

He almost slapped himself. Stupid! Ring Granger, of course! Where was the damn telephone? He spotted it on the kitchen table. What was Granger's number again? And the phone was different from the one at the hotel. How did the infernal thing work?

By the time he had found the number and figured out the telephone, he felt dangerously close to either losing his temper or bursting into tears.

He dialled.

Thank Merlin the line was free!

He ground his teeth. Please let her be home. Please!

"Hello?" The female voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place her right away. It wasn't Granger, that was for sure.

No time for introductions.

"Hermione Granger, please." Damn, what if she had changed her name to Weasley?

"Eh? Who is this? Do you know how late it is?"

Whoever it was, she apparently hadn't recognised his voice. Thank the gods for small favours!

"Put Granger on the phone," he snapped, trying to sound as unlike himself as possible. "It's an emergency!"

The word "emergency" seemed to have the desired effect: he heard noises and a muffled conversation in the background. A door was closed. Then Granger's voice. Thank goodness!

"Hello?"

"I need your help, Granger!"

"Malfoy? Oh God, what's the matter?"

"I just found Harry on the kitchen floor. I think he's unconscious, but his eyes are open. I shook him and I yelled at him, but he doesn't react. I don't know what-"

"Is he injured? Bleeding?" she interrupted his increasingly panicked babbling. Her voice was calm and professional. Bless the woman!

"No. Not that I can see, anyway."

"Labored breathing?"

"No."

"Heartbeat?"

"Steady."

"How does his skin feel? Clammy? Cold? Feverish? Sweaty?"

"No. Feels normal."

"Pupils dilated?"

"No."

"Any vomit?"

"No."

"Did he complain about headaches?"

"No."

"Did he drink alcohol or take any drugs or medication?"

"Not while I was watching. I don't know what he did in the past half hour or so, though."

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know what he did after brushing his teeth and supposedly going to bed thirty minutes ago."

"Hmm... Did you try magic?"

"No. Do you want me to Enervate him?"

"Can't hurt. Check his hands and feet. If they're warm, point the wand at his feet. Better to stay as far from his heart as possible."

Draco checked. "Hands and feet are warm," he reported. "Here we go. Enervate!"

"Anything?"

"No. Wait a second, though... This is odd. I wonder..."

"What?"

Draco ignored her.

"Hmmm..."

"Malfoy!"

"Must have been the noise I heard..."

"Draco Malfoy! What are you going on about?!"

"Sorry, Granger. I just noticed... There is a puddle on the floor. And shards. Looks like he was having a cup of tea and dropped the mug. I wonder... Doesn't smell like black tea, though. Maybe... Oh good, he left the container out. Hmmm... valerian and aniseed... fennel... lavender... Nothing dangerous. Fairly basic soporific."

"He had trouble sleeping?"

"Granger, I haven't slept with the bloke in seven years! I don't know if he had sleeping problems. If he had, he didn't mention them."

"What did you two do today?"

"Went shopping, cooked dinner, went to the pictures. Came home and said good-night."

"Which film did you watch?"

"I don't know. Something with pirates. I forgot the name."

"Hmm. That shouldn't... Did you have any stressful conversations?"

"Not that I recall. Why?"

"Let's try one more thing. If it doesn't work, you'll have to call an ambulance."

"A what? How?!"

"Don't worry about that right now. You need to stay calm and see if you can get through to him. Have you ever used Legilimency?"

"No."

"Good. Then you'll only be able to touch his mind briefly and on the surface. Hopefully that will be enough to find out what happened before he fell. Do you know the spell? Can you do it?"

"Fuck, yes, Granger! Whatever it takes."

"Then go ahead."

"How do I get back out?"

"Simply by wanting to. Don't worry. You can't get stuck."

"All right. I'll have to put the phone down."

"Hurry up."

The hand that picked up his wand seemed to belong to someone else. It was trembling.

Stay calm. Focus.

"Legilimens."

oOoOoOoOoOo

What the fuck, Potter?! He picked up the phone. "Granger?"

"Yes!"

"Most of it was too fast, but the last thing I saw was a graveyard. It reminded me of something... There were... Death Eaters. And a cauldron. And then somebody said, 'Kill the spare'. What the hell was that?"

"That was when You-... when Voldemort came back. The night Cedric died. Did you see anything else?"

"Nothing that I could focus on. Everything was sort of... cloudy. Like a dense fog."

He heard Granger take a deep breath.

"Did he tell you about his memory block?"

"Yes. Why? What about it?"

"Memory charms can be tricky, especially when they're used to shut out extremely traumatic experiences. In rare cases, the spell affects a larger area of a person's memories than intended. It doesn't block the other memories per se. It just weakens their emotional impact until something causes the feelings to resurface. We are not sure what exactly happens and what causes it, but when the emotions come back, they can sometimes be... overwhelming. I think this is what happened to Harry. That's why I asked what you did today. Did you talk about the past much?"

"Merlin, Granger, we've talked about any number of things since Saturday. About N.E.W.T.s and about funny things that happened at school. What we did after Hogwarts. Nothing serious. He told me about the memory block yesterday. And he mentioned that he was really stressed after the trials, before he left Hogwarts."

"That could have triggered a flashback. Talking about the trials, I mean. But we won't know for sure until you've... woken him up."

"How do I do that?"

"With the Venanimus spell. Concentrate on where you are right now, then reach out with your mind and tell him that you want him to come back. Don't think about the past. It will take longer and it will be much more draining if you do. Stay focussed on the present. Can you do it?"

He scoffed. "Don't be absurd, Granger! What other options have we got? What's the spell?"

"Venanimate. Finite desiderium to end it."

"So all I do is cast the spell and concentrate on the kitchen until he wakes up."

"That's basically it, yes. Put a hand on his arm or something. It'll help. It may take a while to bring him back because you're not a trained healer and have no experience with the spell. Don't try..."

He heard her swallow.

"Just be patient," she finished. Her voice sounded... strained.

"Thank you, Granger. I owe you. Anything else?"

There was a short pause. Then, "Just bring him back, all right?"

"I will." Draco took a deep breath. "And I'll ring you... later."

He placed the phone on the kitchen table and kneeled beside Harry, then glanced around to make sure that he saw the room clearly in his mind before he looked at Harry again.

Shit, yes, I want him back!

He took Harry's hand in his and raised his wand.

"Venanimate."

London, approx. 22:50 (Berlin 23:50)

Hermione put the receiver down, a detached part of her mind registering that her pulse was racing and her hands were shaking. It was a miracle that she had managed to stay so composed during the conversation with Malfoy. Now the realisation of what was happening was beginning to sink in - and that there was absolutely nothing she could do to help.

Even if she were lucky enough to round up a team of healers at this time of night, they had no way of reaching Harry and Malfoy within the next forty minutes - which was all Malfoy had. Maybe fifty.

"Please," she thought, rubbing her clammy hands, "please let Ha... let them both be all right."

Malfoy had sounded dangerously close to hysteria when he called. Clearly, he'd been in no shape to deal with a worst-case-scenario. Fortunately, he didn't know her well enough to sense her anxiety. Remaining calm and pretending that there was nothing to worry about had been the only way to help him. Now things were in his hands and all she could do was wait and hope for the best.

Thank God she had remembered the spell! From what she'd read, there was a good chance it would at least delay the effects of a weakening memory block, even stop them if used quickly enough.

She tried not to think about what could happen if Malfoy didn't succeed; if Harry should move beyond the reach of the spell...

A soft knock on the door interrupted her musings.

Rats! What was she going to tell Ginny?

"What are some people thinking? Calling in the middle of the night and not even introducing themselves properly! Nobody I know would be so rude."

Ginny had offered to keep her company while Ron was attending the Annual Training Academy of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad in Cork. She was glad that Ginny was here, but if she didn't come up with an explanation quickly, the girl would work herself into an indignant frenzy, and that was something she'd rather not deal with right now.

"Was it somebody from that Muggle institute again?"

Thank God for the excuse!

"Yes. They're having problems with a new patient."

Ginny frowned. "Honestly, Hermione, you shouldn't do this. Stress isn't good for you so close to delivery." She strongly reminded Hermione of her mother-in-law when she stood with her hands on her hips like this. "Can't they take care of their patients themselves?"

Hermione rubbed her face tiredly. She loved the girl dearly, but becoming a birthing witch had activated the slightly overbearing trait Ginny had apparently inherited from her mother, and it could be quite annoying to be on the receiving end of it.

"Their night shift is understaffed at the moment. It's only temporary, until they've hired somebody. And they only call me when a patient is in really bad shape."

But Ginny would not be appeased so easily. "I still don't see why they have to ring you! You're not even a - what do they call them? Personologist?"

"Psychologist."

"Yes. Whatever. What are they going to do when you have Lilian and can't be at their beck and call anymore?"

"Please, Ginny..." She buried her face in her hands, wishing she could share her burden with her sister-in-law. But of course, confiding in Ginny wouldn't help the boys. Besides, she didn't have the heart to tell Ginny that she'd been in touch with Harry; or the courage to confess that she had sent Malfoy after him and explain why she hadn't waited until Ron was back from Ireland.

"Fine," Ginny relented. "Are they going to be all right?"

Hermione nodded and rubbed her face tiredly.

Putting Harry's life in the hands of a Malfoy - if that wasn't ironic, she didn't know what was!

"You need to go back to bed, Hermione. It's late."

Now why did that remark hit a nerve?

"I will. As soon as I've heard back from them. They're going to let me know how the patient is. It shouldn't take but a few minutes."

"Do you need anything? Shall I make you a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you, Ginny. Some pumpkin juice would be nice, though."

Ginny had long since disappeared and she had almost finished her glass of juice when the question hit her: What was Malfoy doing in Harry's kitchen at eleven o'clock at night?

Berlin, past midnight

Draco could hardly feel his legs anymore, his back ached, his wand hand was numb, and the hand that was clutching Harry's to his chest was slippery with sweat. He had no idea how long he'd been kneeling on the cold tiled floor. It felt like hours. And he had no idea if he was doing this right. He could feel the distinct prickle of magic flowing through his fingertips and into his wand. That and an odd sense of irrationality were the only indicators that a spell was in effect.

There had been moments when it felt as if he was getting through to Harry, as if their minds were... touching somehow. There was a gentle nudge at the back of his mind, accompanied by a strange sensation behind his eyes, as if he was trying to look backwards into his own head, and he had concentrated even harder on reaching out to Harry in these moments, but Harry was still not moving. His eyes were still staring at nothing, and Draco felt himself getting close to the point of slapping him and shouting at him to wake up, to not leave him, because he couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.

Oddly enough, right then an image of Harry on the Hogwarts Express before their first year flashed through his mind, followed by memories of the many times they had tried to get each other in trouble. The insults they had traded. Every brawl and every duel they had fought. The fateful argument that had ended in their walking out of a room, triggering the marriage curse... Which was not what he was supposed to be thinking of. Pull yourself together, Draco! He closed his eyes and shook his head in an effort to regain control. Concentrate! Don't think of the past!

But try as he might, he could not wrench his thoughts away from the memories that followed: their first kiss. The excitement of exploring each other. How incredible it had felt to have Harry inside him for the first time... Every passionate moment they had shared seemed to pour out of him and course through him, and his body was reacting in a very predictable way to this onslaught of erotic images, but he was unable to stop them.

And then, just when he thought he could not stand this for another minute without touching himself for relief, the pictures shifted, were replaced by memories of gentle touches, quiet conversations, and tender gestures. Draco brushing Harry's hair. Affection. Harry rubbing Draco's neck. Contentment. Calling each other by their given names. Peace. Flying together. Belonging. Laughing together. Closeness. Going to sleep and waking up in each other's arms. Safety. ... Trust.

At first it was so light that he thought he had imagined it, but the second time there was no mistaking the slight squeeze.

With a start, Draco opened his eyes and peered anxiously at Harry who was still motionless but whose hand had curled around Draco's.

"Harry?"

Draco laced his fingers through Harry's. He leaned over until their cheeks were almost touching and brought his mouth close to Harry's ear.

"Wake up, Harry," he said quietly. "Please." Don't leave me! I need you.

And he must have done something right, because suddenly a shudder ran through Harry. He heard a soft sigh - and then Harry's eyelids fluttered shut.

Draco let out his breath and slowly straightened up.

"Harry?" he said softly.

A frown appeared on Harry's face.

"Harry," he repeated, a little louder.

"Draco?"

A wave of relief and exhaustion washed over Draco. He let go of Harry's hand and barely managed to whisper the Finite before he slumped over and almost ended up on the floor next to Harry.

"'s 'e matter?" Harry mumbled, cautiously opening his eyes again.

Draco felt unable to answer right away. Both his legs had gone to sleep, and trying to stretch them had sent what felt like an army of ants on a forced march towards his feet.

"What..." Harry blinked several times and frowned, visibly struggling to get his bearings.

"You were out of it for the last fifteen minutes or so," Draco managed through clenched teeth. The ants had reached his feet and decided to turn around and crawl back up his legs.

Harry pushed himself up on his elbow. "Out of it?" he repeated sheepishly.

"As in unconscious. Or something close to it."

"Unconscious?"

"Let's get you off the floor and then I'll explain. First I have to ring Granger, though."

"Hermione?"

"She told me the spell that brought you back."

Draco forced his legs to cooperate and stood up with an effort, then realised that he was still hard - and remembered that he was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. He felt his face heat up and quickly bent over, pretending to stretch his legs.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked when it was safe to straighten up again.

"I'm fine, I think," Harry said and picked himself off the floor.

Draco reached for the telephone and dialled Granger's number again.

An hour later...

"That's the last thing I remember. And then I woke up," Harry finished.

Draco looked at him wearily. There was so much he didn't know about Harry, so many things they hadn't been able to share - just because of some misguided cretin who, in the end, couldn't even be called human anymore. He stared into his tea, wondering just how much trouble he had caused Harry with his machinations while they were at school. And why he had bothered to cook up all those stupid schemes in the first place. It seemed so small-minded and childish to his 24-year old self.

Kill the spare!

He shuddered.

"I wish I'd known-" he began, then stopped because he wasn't sure how to put things that had been ghosting through his head for seven years into words that didn't make him sound like a complete fool.

"How could you?" Harry asked evenly. "We weren't on speaking terms when it all happened, remember? And later we couldn't talk about it for other reasons."

Draco kept his eyes firmly on his mug. "Do you sometimes think about how... things would have been? If we had talked, I mean."

Harry shrugged. "I used to, but not anymore. It doesn't change anything, so why bother?"

Maybe that had been his problem all those years, Draco mused - he couldn't stop wondering. Apparently, Harry had moved on with his life while he, Draco, was stuck in the past. But in order to move on, one must have choices - and he didn't see many of those in his life. Or rather, he hadn't seen many... until a snowy owl had pecked on his window one morning, not very long ago. The thought made him smile.

"I wish I'd been smarter," he said slowly, beginning to feel a little groggy. "I don't know how many times Pansy tried to talk sense into me, but... Well, you know what Father's like." He swallowed. "I have no idea what's going to happen when he gets out of Azkaban, but I sure as hell wish I could be far away by then." Oh. Was that how he felt? He'd been unaware of this until it practically fell out of his mouth. How peculiar!

"Why can't you?" Harry's voice sounded genuinely puzzled.

Draco scoffed. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time he got angry with me?"

"No, I haven't," Harry said with a sigh. "Just out of curiosity, though: if you could, where would you go? Back to Prague?"

"Either that or Budapest. Maybe Vienna. Or Paris."

"Hmm," Harry said, "don't know about Budapest or Vienna, but Paris is nice. I vote for Prague, though."

"Why?" Draco looked up from his tea and stared at Harry, feeling slightly thrown off balance by the change in topic and a tone in Harry's voice he couldn't place.

"It's closer to Berlin," Harry said with a little smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, which were intently fixed on Draco's. "Just a couple of hours by train. And from what you've told me, it must be an interesting place."

With an effort, Draco refrained from asking if Harry would like to come with him - and had to suppress a giggle when some aberrant part of his brain pointed out that he really liked the idea of eloping with his ex.

"What about you?" he asked instead, stifling a yawn. "Where would you go if you wanted to leave here?" Merlin, he was so tired all of a sudden! He felt as if someone had pulled a plug and energy was draining out of his body at an alarming rate.

Harry shrugged. "I'll move back to England eventually. Did Hermione tell you that they want me to be their daughter's godfather?"

"She might have mentioned it." Draco rubbed his eyes. "Are you going to do it?"

"I told her I'd think about it, but only after she promised she wouldn't nag me to come back to England any time soon." Harry absent-mindedly turned his mug around a couple of times before he continued, "I don't know... I don't think I'm ready to go back to the Wizarding world yet, but I don't want to stay in Berlin much longer, either. It's an interesting place, but it's... draining to live as a stranger all the time."

Draco nodded but couldn't reply. His jaw suddenly felt very heavy. As a matter of fact, his whole body did. Must be the tea. Apparently it was a stronger soporific than he'd thought. No wonder it had knocked Harry out. But no, Granger had said something about the memory block...

"Draco?" Harry's voice seemed to come from far away.

"Hm?" His head felt odd. As if someone had stuffed it with Pygmy Puffs.

"God, you must be exhausted. I shouldn't have kept you up." Harry sounded worried. "Let's get you to bed."

Draco knew there was a nicely insinuating answer to that last remark somewhere in his brain, but he had to settle for a lame "okay" because thinking was almost impossible with a head full of Pygmy Puffs. He couldn't remember closing his eyes, although he must have done so at some point because he was trying to open them just now, when he was being pulled up from his chair and onto his feet. His eyelids refused to cooperate, though. Merlin, he couldn't have felt more boneless if he'd been on the receiving end of a blow job. Preferably from Harry. He wondered briefly where that thought had come from. It was rather out of place. And it seemed to make him lightheaded and dizzy.

"Head's spinning," he complained.

"Shh. We're almost there. Just a few more steps." The voice - Harry's voice - was soothing. It felt good.

With a sigh, Draco let his head sink onto the shoulder that must belong to the arm holding him up.

"'m tired," he muttered. Talking was becoming more difficult, too, probably because it required thinking.

"I know. Here we are. Sit down."

This came not a second too soon because his legs suddenly felt so weak that he couldn't have taken another step. He was lowered onto a soft surface and would have simply fallen over if it hadn't been for the arm still around his waist. He slumped against the body next to him. Must be Harry.

"Glad you're back," he mumbled into Harry's neck. He had a feeling this kind of behaviour wasn't particularly appropriate; he just couldn't remember why.

"Lie down." The voice was definitely nice. Caring.

Screw acceptable behaviour! Holding on to somebody felt too good to worry about propriety.

"So scared," he murmured.

"Don't think about it. Everything's all right now." Gentle.

The arm was removed from his waist and he resented the loss of comfort but was too tired to protest.

"Sleep," the voice whispered, very close to his ear.

He smiled.

"Night, Harry," he whispered back. His cheek touched something fluffy. Ah! The pillow. He curled up on his side with a yawn. Yes, he would sleep now. Everything was all right.

For a moment he thought he felt... - but no, that couldn't be. Must be part of the rather vivid dream he was slipping into.