Rating:: PG-13
House:: Schnoogle
Ships:: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Characters:: Draco Malfoy Ginny Weasley Remus Lupin Sirius Black Harry and Hermione and Ron
Genres:: Drama Mystery
Era:: Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Spoilers:: Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:: Published: 04/24/2003

Updated: 01/22/2004

Words: 29,285

Chapters: 7

Hits: 7,795

The Mists of Memory

Kagome-sama

Story Summary:: A life's debt is a life's debt. Even if you're Draco Malfoy. Even if you'd rather be dead than saved by

Chapter 02

Chapter Summary:: Potter saved your life. What shock! Unfortunately, you must deal with it... and face your old enemies, with whom you must live, but who don't want to trust you. Do you really care of them, or are you just trying not to lose your face?

Posted:: 05/03/2003

Hits:: 788

Author's Note:: Written by: Kagome-sama

Chapter 2: I'm Not a Death Eater!

It took Draco several minutes to recover from the shock. He continued to stare at Potter, looking at him re-adjusting his clothes. He saw Harry remove the heavy cloak with the pointed hood and shake it, in order to get rid of the water. Then Harry squeezed the sleeves of his jacket and the legs of his trousers. Using a handkerchief to dry himself he shook off the ice and draped his cloak back on to his shoulders. He then turned to look at him.

'The last person I thought I'd run into in a place like this, escaping from a Dementor, was you, Malfoy. What happened?' Harry said, staring at Draco with sincere curiosity. He seemed truly concerned for him. How could he be? How?

'And the last person I thought I'd find was you, Potter. Damn! What made you think that I wanted your bloody help?' The words came out venomous and acidic.

'I'd gracefully remind Your Lordship that if I weren't there to save you, your arrogant little face wouldn't be a pretty sight to behold, right now,' he replied mockingly.

A hard smile curved Draco's lips. Well, it seems Potter knows what sarcasm is; time hasn't gone by only for me, after all.

'You just can't get it in that minuscule brain of yours, can you? *Your Lordship* didn't have any intention of being saved, especially not by you,' he replied. And it was true. To die was more dignified for him than to find himself in a life debt to ... Potter! His father would never forgive him. But then again, his father was more than dead by now. Who would scold him? His eyes were staring right on his companion who glanced back ironically.

Harry stretched out a hand, helping him to stand up, but Draco ignored the proffered help. Harry approached the door and opened it. A gust of icy air whisked into the landing, together with some snowflakes that had replaced the earlier rain and now quickly settled to the floor. Harry gestured towards the door with his free hand.

'So... if it annoys you so much to be alive the door is open you can leave,' Harry said, looking at him mockingly. 'I don't think they'll need much time to find you again. There's nobody around in this bad weather...' he smiled at Draco's bewilderment.

'I didn't want to be saved. Still, that doesn't mean I want to go back outside...' Draco replied, shuddering. Harry nodded with a smile and closed the door. He ran his hands through his hair, approached the steps slowly and sat down. Draco leaned against the wall and lowered his eyes.

'Why were you out in this weather?' Harry said trying hard not to look at his face. He fixed his eyes on his shoe instead. It took a moment to untie them and tie them again, making sure he tightened the shoelaces more than before.

'I'd ask the same of you.' he replied icily. 'It's not that easy, nowadays, to run into Saint Potter. Especially in the streets of London.' This distracted Harry from his shoes, and a pair of green eyes stared at him. The Boy-Who-Lived seemed to reflect carefully on those words.

It was true.

They had finished Hogwarts four years ago. During their seventh year, they had faced Voldemort using the only weapon that could cause his death, the Green Torch. They had found it inside the Department of Mysteries; it was hidden inside an enclosed room. They had used it in a memorable battle, a fight that had nearly killed everyone. Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress after Dumbledore had disappeared in the sixth year, had died helping them. It had been a terrible loss.

They had become heroes. They had ended the year under the limelight, even if their hearts were drowning into sorrow. For a while things had gone well, but Harry had never liked to be the centre of the attention, and this time was no exception. He wanted to be able to take some time for himself, to recover from the blow of the terrible losses he had endured - it was what all of them wanted. Even if they hadn't noticed it before, they had loved the former Head of Gryffindor House. She had left an overwhelming emptiness in their hearts.

Strangely enough, not long after Dumbledore disappeared, Sirius had came back ... all of sudden and without giving an explanation. Harry couldn't be more happy, but his godfather didn't want to tell him how he got out of the Veil. Harry had tried to ask it lots of times, but Sirius always changed the subject... in the end he didn't ask anymore, accepting Sirius's right to keep it a secret. He had the feeling that Professor Dumbledore had played a part in it, though.

Anyway, Harry had used his newly acquired "influence" over the Ministry of Magic to clear Sirius from all the charges. The day when the sentence of his godfather had been revoked had been one of the happiest of his life. He'd not been forced to return to Privet Drive any longer, and he had moved to number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Ron had finally had his dreams come true... He'd got married to Hermione in an intimate ceremony to which only a few friends were invited. Apart from that, he had become the reserve keeper for the Chudley Cannons, the team he'd always supported. Hermione had continued to study and was often travelling, in order to comply with her new job at the Ministry of Magic. They were like two peas in a pod; they argued constantly, but reconciled quickly.

Then, little more than two years before, the ruin had started. Someone had destroyed their peace that had been so hard to earn--Voldemort.

Yes, him ... once again. Still alive, despite all efforts.
'It's not easy to meet you either. I read in the Daily Prophet that your father received the Dementor's Kiss two years ago. Many Aurors have been looking for you ever since.'

'Are you one of them perhaps? Were you following me? If so, you should've let that Dementor kill me. I'd have preferred that than to be indebted to you. And I'm sincere,' Draco said, slurring his words a little because his teeth were chattering. He looked at Harry again with his pale grey eyes and continued to shake uncontrollably. He couldn't stop himself, and, in the same way, he couldn't help but coughing.

'Me? An Auror? You're kidding! I wasn't at all trying to get you. I'd gone out to get something to eat.' He sadly pointed to the package he was carrying, which Draco saw for the first time. 'But it'll be cold by now, so the others won't want it.' he sighed.

'What were you doing in the alley then? The stores in this neighbourhood were all closed....'

'In fact I got this from the other side of the city. I'd only just Reapparated here when you bumped into me.'

Draco was startled. So that was Potter... He must have followed from that point, in order to help me. He tightened his fists in anger. 'Don't expect any excuses,' he hissed dryly; Harry bent his head backwards and laughed, a genuine laugh, like that of a child.

'Of course not, even if I think that you already did. And I don't expect you to thank me either; I know you won't.' Without looking at Draco, Harry opened the package he'd bought. It was all cold... well, it didn't matter; they'd heat it up. He took something and bit into it. Then he turned towards Draco and threw him another. 'Eat,' he said. Draco observed with astonishment that what he had caught instinctively was a chocolate bar.

'I won't accept your charity, Potter.' Draco said, his teeth chattering with every word. It was not easy maintaining a semblance of dignity in that state... and he couldn't stop coughing, damn!

'Malfoy, I always knew you were a git; still, I never thought you were an idiot,' Harry smiled while Draco's eyes became very small cracks on his face. 'You were about to receive a Kiss from a Dementor; it's not a small thing. You're shaking like a bloody leaf!'

Draco realized at that moment that Harry was right. Probably the shivers running along his back weren't due to the cold alone.

'I think I would've done that in any case,' he reflected aloud, looking down at his soaking clothes. But he looked at the bar and bit into it. Also, Harry seemed to notice his condition for the first time, and observed him, astonished.

'I guess that you won't tell me what made you go out in this weather without an umbrella,' he stated.

'For once, you guess correctly, Potter.' Draco looked at the floor. The only thing he still had left was a small shred of pride. If Potter would find out what kind of life he'd been leading, he'd never dare to look at himself in the mirror again.

He knew very well he looked like a shadow of who he once had been. Paler than ever, haggard, dirty; he disgusted himself. There was no need for Potter to add more stones to his back. In truth he has already added one... He smiled sardonically at that thought.

'However, I don't think that you've been having a good time. I remember you more in shape. And I never suspected you liked Muggle clothes,' Harry said, as if he were making fun of him. It was obvious that Malfoy had problems, and he wanted to understand the truth. He wanted to help, but Draco had to open up first. The fact that he was Malfoy made it hard to believe or obtain.

'Actually, I don't like this crap.' Draco looked disgustedly at the soaked clothes that he wore. 'If I hadn't been forced to, I would never have put them on.'

'The Malfoys have never had money problems. So I suppose you live among Muggles now; I'd never think you'd stand it.' Harry sneered at Draco. 'But I suppose it wasn't your choice.'

'What choice could I have? Azkaban perhaps?' His look seemed to harden, if it was possible. He was silent for a moment, too busy trying to stop himself from coughing, then he continued, 'You seem amused at making fun of me. Well, the game has lasted too long. I'm leaving now, goodbye.'

Draco got up suddenly. In those two long years he had often had rapid mood swings, but never had he felt so nervous. His head felt like it was going to explode and the shivers that ran down his back, even if diminished after eating the chocolate, did not go away. But, after all, his clothes were still soaked and the moisture was penetrating to his bones, freezing him.

'Where do you want to go in this weather? Do you even have anywhere to go?' asked Harry with worry. For the first time since they had entered that house, he was aware of the sad condition of the person in front of him. He hadn't noticed it--the arrogant air that Draco had succeeded in using had fooled him. But, when the boy got up, he seemed to stagger and steady himself with the wall. Harry saw him shake his head again and blink his eyes two or three times, before proceeding.

'...'

Draco tried to put one foot in front of the other, leaning against the wall forcefully. Damn... he didn't feel well at all. And the thought of returning to that storm didn't really please him.

'Stupid question. If you had a place to go to, you wouldn't have been out in the storm, escaping from the Dementors,...' Harry thought aloud.

'Why the hell d'you care?' Draco cried. While still opening the door, he turned his head suddenly to watch Harry over his shoulder.

'Because you can't leave,' Harry finally concluded, whispering to himself scratching the nape of his neck with his right hand. 'If you weren't Draco Malfoy, I'd take you to the others. But they'd never forgive me if you betrayed us.'

'Potter...' Draco turned towards Harry with difficulty, while placing a hand on the door. 'It'll cost me dearly to have to tell you this, but I don't want you to get wrong ideas in that worm-eaten brain of yours. Remember that a Malfoy would never betray a life debt.' He looked at Harry before exerting greater pressure on the handle of the door, in order to open it.

I can't do it. If I let him leave, he won't last the night, Harry thought in horror. The temperature was dropping, and Draco was still wearing wet clothes. Harry wasn't completely dry either, but his clothes had not been totally soaked; while Draco's had.

Not that there was time to think; Harry forced himself to trust Draco. It cost him much, but he knew there was no other choice - that is... he had a choice, but he didn't want to consider it. He rose from the step where he sat, taking the package of food. Then he hurried towards the door that Draco had finally opened. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder, supporting him and they Apparated together.

When they Reapparated, they found themselves a few steps from the large double doors of a huge, abandoned building. Draco broke away from Harry's support as though on fire.

'Potter, how many times must I tell you that I don't need you help,' Draco hissed acidly, trying to get away. The rain had turned into hail by now, and was covering the roads with its white cape. The cold had become stronger than before.

'Don't act like an idiot now, Malfoy. Anyone with a little intelligence would know when they've reached their limit.' Harry took him by the collar of the jacket, with force, and dragged him up again. They arrived in front of the door and looked around. He opened it with caution and entered, carrying Draco's weight.

Finally, they made it to the landing and he let go. Draco tried to clean his jacket, annoyed, but the hailstones didn't want to go away. He was about to do it again when the inner door of the building--for sure an old abandoned hotel, or something similar--was opened.

'Harry, thank God you're back. We were worried!' A young woman with long, bushy brown hair, appeared at the door, her frown and voice showing restlessness. Behind her was a tall and muscular boy. He had red hair and the expression of someone who had just seen a monster.

'Sorry but ... I had a hitch,' whispered Harry eyeing in Draco's direction. Ron Weasley's eyes flashed wide open, as did Hermione's. It was clear that they had recognized him immediately.

'Harry, what the hell made you bring him here? Are you completely out of your mind?' they burst in unison.

'I notice that, as always, you have more brains than Potter, Mudblood,' Draco hissed, glaring at her mockingly. Hermione's eyes widened and tried to speak; she had definitely become unaccustomed to his insults. 'I'd like to point out that I've not come of my own free will. He dragged me here.' The two looked with horror at their companion.

'I found him when I was coming back. He was being chased by a Dementor and I saved his life.' Harry looked at Draco in the eyes, very serious.

'Save his life? Malfoy's?' Ron was getting more upset.

'Shut up, Weasel,' Draco yelled, annoyed. Outwardly, he thought, age and Quidditch training has made him grow taller, but not smarter.

Harry didn't let them come to blows. He pushed Draco through the door and entered, removing his cloak and hanging it on the peg. Closing the door, he put down the package on a piece of furniture in the wide entrance hall.

'Hermione, Ron, don't exaggerate now. Look at him ... and tell me if I could leave him there.'

'Of course you should've left him there, Harry,' answered Hermione angrily, observing the new arrival with resentment. 'We know very well that he's a Death Eater.'

'I'M NOT A DEATH EATER!' Draco felt like his head would explode, and a deep pain in the centre of his throat forced him to start coughing painfully, but he couldn't keep from shouting. Hermione stopped dead, vexed. She seemed astonished at a reaction of that sort. I can't blame her. Until a few years ago, it'd have been a compliment, for me, he thought. But now he didn't endure the girl's presumptions.

'Ah, you're not? Really? How can we be sure?' Ron hissed, glaring at him with hatred.

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest and rhythmically stomped her foot on the floor, staring at him irritatedly. 'For all we know you could also be a spy of Voldemort, ready to reveal our hiding place and get us captured. I'm amazed that no one has arrived yet.' Hearing these words inflamed Draco's face. Up until now he had looked as white as a sheet.

'Don't you dare say that again, Granger.' He showed his left arm, moving it with force in front of her eyes, while those words burnt him even more. 'Tell me, now, d'you believe me? I don't have the Mark, I'm not a Death Eater!' Hermione didn't seem to change her mind. She observed the waving arm and then glared at him again, annoyed.

'What would you want to demonstrate with this? You could be a spy for Voldemort without the Mark,' she snapped up. Draco knew that it was true and he couldn't blame her. However, he wasn't going to lose an argument with her and, above all, be confused for one of those. One such as his father.

'Now, Granger, please don't offend the intelligence of us both. My father has received a Dementor's Kiss....' His sight was clouding. Damn, his headache had got worse and made him ache everywhere. 'Moreover....' He staggered while aiming a finger at Hermione, but she didn't seem to want to change her mind. If possible, on the contrary, her glare hardened.

'The parents of many current Death Eaters are in Azkaban now. Why should you be an exception? Your father was condemned because he murdered someone, if I'm not mistaken. How can we believe you? Even if Harry has saved you, you're still a Malfoy ....' The girl hissed that name as if it were an insult. Draco didn't see her any more, Marion's face appeared in front of him too vividly. He had to blink two times before being able to speak his mind.

'I don't care if you can or cannot accept this truth, Granger. It's important, though, that you get this into your damned Mudblood head. You said it yourself. I'm a Malfoy. Whatever you think of it, I know well what honour is....'

*Mr. Malfoy, good evening! Look, Mr. Malfoy, it's snowing!* Draco shook his head and blinked trying to remove that memory from his head while coughing. He began to feel colder, as if ice was invading his spirit. Oh ... he knew that feeling well. He turned white, opening his eyes wide.

'What's happening to you, Malfoy? You've gone so pale you look like a ghost,' Hermione said. Despite the sour words, her tone showed anxiety. A thin line wrinkled her forehead while she approached him, her eyes looking at him worriedly.

'A Dementor ... nearby,' murmured Harry, staggering and grabbing hold of the piece of furniture where he had put the package. Also he grew pale, but succeeded in resuming control. Luckily, this captured the attention of Hermione and Ron, leaving Draco to deal with his ghosts unnoticed.

*Mr. Malfoy look, how much snow! Mr. Malfoy?* Draco shook his head again, groaning because of the pain. He didn't want to see that again, didn't want to feel bad, not there. He had to leave. He turned around and moved to escape, but he staggered unsteadily. He cursed - he didn't want to seem weak; not in front of Mudblood and Weasley, not in front of Potter.

*Mr. Malfoy! Look, it is snowing!* Marion's smile passed in front of his eyes, like a flash, followed by the forbidding and angry glare of his father. His heart tightened in pain.

*Don't you understand that she's lying?*

*I'm not lying!*

*Don't you understand that she's lying?*

*She's lying!*

*Mr. Malfoy, do you know what becomes of snow, when it melts?*

*She's a whore who wants to tarnish the Malfoy's name!*

*It isn't true!*

*She's a whore...*

Without noticing, Draco brought his hands to his temples and rubbed his eyes. The memories, like annoying lightning bolts, emerged and dissolved in his brain, making him dizzy. Harry wasn't feeling well either - his hands on his temples exactly like Draco. Ron and Hermione came close to their friend asking him worriedly how he was feeling.

*I'm not lying Mr. Malfoy!*

*Draco, please... tell me that you'll never leave me.*

* She's lying. She only wants your money!*

*She'll tarnish the Malfoy's name!*

*Tell me that you won't ever betray me. I won't bear it.*

*She's lying...*

'ENOUGH!!' he screamed without noticing, smothering a cry while hopelessly embracing his clothes, which were still wet and cold. He felt his head heavy and didn't understand anything anymore.

'Malfoy? What's happening?' Not only Granger, but Weasley looked at him with restlessness now. Damn ... he couldn't stand it anymore.... Hermione's face blended with Marion's; the questions of the girl in front of him melded into the howls of pain of the one he'd loved.

*I won't allow you to harm her!*

*Draco, look! Have you ever wondered what lies beyond the rainbow?*

*Remove yourself!*

*I love you, Draco!*

*NO!*

*It's true! It's true, I was taking Draco for a ride!*

*I'll torture you!*

*I'm not lying, Mr. Malfoy!*

*I'm not lying!*

*Avada Kedavra!*

'NOO!' He fell to his knees. He didn't want to think of it anymore. Once again that image of the woman he had loved, lying on that stone pavement, flashed across his mind. Those eyes, empty pools of pale brown, quietly accusatory in his conscience, dragged him to hell. He felt as if his heart had been wrenched out of his body, crushed and destroyed entirely. Then he felt someone approach him and try to move his grief-ridden body, but didn't succeed. He felt one hand, ice cold, on his forehead.

'He has a high fever!' Someone smothered an outcry.

'Eh?' said another.

Draco felt them talking amongst themselves, then himself being seized under the armpits. They made him get up, guiding him somewhere. He didn't have the strength to be aware of where they were taking him or to give any resistance. The soft touch of a pillow behind his neck was the last thing that his mind recorded, before his consciousness slipped into darkness.