Ten Days

Ten Days

Chapter Eight: How One Should Feel

The heart has reasons that reason does not understand.

Why should he go?

That was a good question. It was the exact question Harry was asking himself as Draco's footsteps retreated down the hall. He still didn't have any opinion of this Draco Malfoy. From what he gathered from Ron and everyone else he met earlier, he shouldn't trust him. Never mind meeting with him that night in the Quidditch pitch.

But there was something inside him -- Harry couldn't explain what -- that made Harry trust Draco, a little. Maybe tonight he would learn why. Draco didn't even explain to Harry why exactly he was meeting him there. Yet, Harry still agreed to go.

He just wished he had his memory back soon. Not knowing who you were, or where you were was no fun at all.

Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room until six.

***

All the not-so-hard work paid off! The book, finally, was safe and sound, tucked underneath Draco's arm as he gleefully made his way to the Slytherin common room. He almost wanted to give himself a pat on the back.

After all this time, he finally got what he wanted. Now he could lose his memory, and forget everything that happened. And since Potter's memory is gone, it just made this ten times easier.

Or ten times worse, it just depended on the way you looked at it. Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

He could do two things with this potion. Forget his memories, or bring Potter's back. But would that even work? Did the potion even work? There wasn't any proof of this, Snape himself said it was rubbish. So why should it matter either way?

Draco could do the right thing.

Or he could do the selfish thing.

The choice was his. He shook this off; he already made up his mind days ago. He wasn't going to waste his time any longer. He was, after all, a Slytherin.

***

It was six o' clock. Harry managed to sneak off to the Quidditch pitch without much question. He told Ron that Madam Pomfrey wanted to check up on him. Hopefully, this wouldn't take long, otherwise Ron might come looking for him.

He waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, at six fifteen, Draco showed up.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to come," Harry said uneasily.

"Well, you know, I had things to do." Draco shrugged and then he made a gesture, beckoning Harry to follow him towards the centre of the pitch. Harry trailed behind. "So I bet you're wondering why you're here," he said coolly.

"Basically."

"So I can tell you what happened the night you fell."

Harry should have known it was something like this, what else would it be? "Oh," he responded. "So what happened?"

"Well, it's sort of simple, really." Draco seemed to be taking his time. He was beginning to get on Harry's nerves. "Well, I'm sure you've got some idea." He stopped to look at Harry.

"Well... uh... everyone's been saying you pushed me..."

"Not exactly, Potter." Draco went on walking to the centre of the field.

Draco was really starting to agitate Harry. "So what was it?"

"Well, we did do something that would cause you to fall off... I guess. Of course, if you weren't so --"

"Out with it, Malfoy!"

"Okay, okay, no need to get fresh." A faint grin passed across Draco's face. "We fought," he said simply.

Harry's face was blank. "And you didn't push me?"

Draco shook his head once. "Nope."

"So, pray tell, how exactly did I fall and lose my memory."

Draco stopped when they reached the very centre of the playing field. "You jumped."

"I what?"

"You jumped."

Harry laughed. "Are you trying to tell me, that I jumped from one of those stands?" Harry pointed of one of the smaller stands, where the students usually sat.

"No, no," Draco said. He grabbed Harry's wrist lightly, and guided his hand to point to the highest of the bleachers, the teacher's. "You fell, from that one."

Harry pulled his hand out of Draco's hold and snapped it down. "I'm not buying it."

"Well, you're going to, because that's all that happened. We got into a little fight, you said you'd jump, because, obviously, once you jump, you can blame all the hurt on me." He looked up at the stand and gave a sort of bemused shrug. "Pretty stupid idea, if you ask me," he added.

"I'm still not buying that story, Malfoy!"

Draco laughed. "Okay, you got me. You want to know the real story?"

"That's why I'm here isn't it?" Harry glared. He was beginning to see why his friends hated Draco Malfoy in the first place.

"Okay the truth is --"

"The truth is what?!"

"Temper, temper. I was getting to that." Draco cleared his throat. "You see, the truth is that we were madly in love." Draco made a sweeping motion with his right arm through the air. "And we were actually making out up there! And then you tragically fell." Theatrical gasp. "And lost your precious memory."

"For the love of --"

Draco shrugged. "I tried."

"Now, could you really tell me just what is going on here?"

"I told you." Draco turned away. "All you have to do now is chose which story you believe."

As Draco walked away, Harry stayed behind. The truth was, he really didn't know which one to believe.

***

That was that. Draco did what he wanted to do, he told Harry what happened last night. It wasn't his fault that Harry didn't believe him. He wasn't quite sure why he told Harry those two stories.

Maybe he wanted Harry to remember, spark a memory. He had nothing to lose anyway. What was the worse that could happen?

This. This was the worse that could happen.

So all Draco had to do was crack open a book and make a simple potion. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

***

It was just past seven o' clock at night, the sun was completely down and it was unbearably cold outside. There was a light trace of snow on the ground from the night before, the night which Harry hardly remembered at all.

Harry was sitting carelessly in the snow, right in the centre of the Quidditch Pitch, where Draco left him. He didn't care that his entire body started to feel numb a half hour ago, nor that he was going to be forced to explain this to someone whenever he decided to go back. Harry needed to sort this out, alone, and this was the only place Harry could think of where he had no chance in being bothered.

So, according to Draco, Harry had jumped. Also, according to Draco, Harry had fell. Each story sounded like a blatant lie. But there was just something about it that made Harry believe that there was something more to what he had heard.

He wanted to hear the truth, and Draco told him two possibly made-up stories. No wonder why none of Harry's friends liked Draco Malfoy. The kid was a lying prat.

What bothered Harry the most, was that there was no proof that Draco was making up those stories. Except the second story, Harry couldn't have possibly been 'madly in love' with another boy. He might have lost his memory, but he doubted that he would have forgotten something like that. There was just no way that was true.

And why would he jump? That would be a very stupid thing to do, and Harry doubted that he would ever be thick enough to do something like that.

But that would settle things, wouldn't it? The logical answer would be that it did, Harry had no reason to believe Draco Malfoy, and in his own sort of way, he didn't. And in his own sort of way, he did. Which would explain why he was still sitting in the a strange place, in a pile of snow.

He wanted to sort things out. What was there to sort out? Why did Harry have a feeling Draco was telling the truth, meanwhile nothing he said made sense either way.

Because Harry was in a place which nothing made sense to begin with. He was in a school that taught children how to cast spells, make potions, fly on broomsticks. The paintings on the walls spoke, the ceiling in the so-called 'Great Hall' was enchanted to look like the sky outside, there were ghosts flying around, and the staircases changed. There was, indeed, nothing about this place that made sense.

So why would it be so hard for him to believe that he might have been in love with another boy or jump off a fifty-foot tall tower?

Well, how could he have been in love with that other boy. He didn't seem to be all that nice, and from what he heard about their past, Harry just about hated him. Now, he didn't hate him, but he could definitely see where this idea came from. On the other hand, one thing that Harry almost had forgot about, Harry's first memory of last night was waking up, in Draco's arms, with Draco looking down on him, panic-stricken.

Or it could have been because of Draco selfishly thinking that he was going to get in trouble if anything happened to Harry. After all, it did seem like something Draco would do. But that still wouldn't explain the whole in-his-arms part.

The more Harry thought about it, the more it brought him no where. He rose up from the ground and dusted the snow off of him. If this was just bringing him no where, he might as well go back to the castle. He stopped to take a look around him, the giant hoops that looked like bubble-blowers, the stands that students sat it, the higher stand that he fell from....

And suddenly, it hit him like a sack of bricks.

A flashback. A small, very vague, but enough to prove as a slither of a light at this possibly very long tunnel.

He saw Draco. And he was falling farther and farther back, down pass the green and silver tapestry that hung from the teacher's tower. He was reaching out his hands, for some help, it was fruitless, there was no one that could help him. No one calling after him. And then, his memory went blank again.

Well, Harry thought bitterly, that was helpful.

***

The Wishing Potion might have been one of the simplest potions Draco had ever saw. He had all of the ingredients on the list, and there wasn't an order in which the ingredients had to go into the cauldron.

Not that Draco Malfoy ever had a problem with potions before.

There was something else on the list that he would have to take care of tomorrow, but that wouldn't be too hard. He had to let the potion sit for twelve hours anyway. If he doubled the time, the potion would spoil. So he had exactly twenty-four hours from now to take the potion. He had until eleven-thirty tomorrow night.

He put the vial with the translucent light-blue liquid, that was safely wrapped up in his socks, into his trunk. Then he turned off his light, and put himself under the covers.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

***

"Harry, are you okay?"

Harry looked up from his breakfast plate. He was thinking about him again. He turned to the girl who introduced herself as Hermione, and said, "I'm fine, just tired, is all."

Hermione gave him a sceptical look. "Well, if you're sure." She poured herself a cup of coffee and looked back up at Harry. "Listen Harry, if you ever need help with anything, you know you can ask me or Ron, right? After all, we're your best friends." She smiled. "But I'm sure you'll remember everything soon enough."

Harry responded with a weak smile as he went to grab a piece of toast. What if he never did get his memory back? Everyone seemed to be so sure he would, but what if everyone was wrong? As time went on Harry thought this more and more. He was having little luck, the only thing he remembered was falling. And that just wasn't good enough.

Just then, Draco Malfoy ambled into the Great Hall. He came in alone, but he looked the happiest that Harry had ever seen him over the past few days. He was walking as if a ton of bricks were just lifted off of his shoulders. Ron seemed to notice this too.

"Slimy git," he said, "I bet he's so thrilled that you fell and forgot everything. And he's getting away with it too. Just makes me sick."

"He's got detention, Ron," Harry informed his friend, "for five days."

"Serves him right; pushing you like that."

But Harry didn't respond at all, his eyes were still on the platinum-haired, blue-grey-eyed Slytherin who just poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Harry was beginning to think that maybe Draco told him the truth after all.

***

Draco, for the first time all year, had arrived to Care of Magical Creatures on time. Right now he was standing at a table, along with three other Slytherins, staring at the seemingly-empty cage in the centre of the table.

"So..." said Crabbe, "what're we looking at?"

Draco just simply rolled his eyes and ignored Crabbe. He had more important things to think about.

"We're looking at nothing obviously," replied Goyle. Draco just glanced at Goyle from the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Nothing," Draco said, rolling his eyes, "We are looking at nothing."

And Draco knew the truth all too well.

***

"So," said Harry, "what are we looking at again?" He adjusted his glasses and squinted at the empty cage.

Ron leaned on the table, across from Harry. "I don't understand what good this is, you know. Who's idea was it for you to come down here and do normal things, you don't remember a thing at all!"

"Well, don't you see, Ron? The more Harry does, the more likely he is to remember things. You're not going to remember anything at all by sitting around in a hospital bed all day," Hermione replied smartly as she turned to Harry. "And we're looking at Billywigs. The cages look empty because Billywigs move really fast." She pointed at the cage. "See, you can see a blue blur go by sometimes."

"Thanks, Hermione."

She smiled. "It was nothing."

Harry looked at the cage, and even though he was just told what they were looking at, he still saw nothing. Eventually his gaze drifted away from the cage and over to another table, where a certain blond Slytherin was standing with his friends.

He looked just as interested in the lesson as Harry, only he was staring up at the afternoon sky. Harry's gaze lowered and then he noticed something... Draco had his index finger in the cage, between the wire, as far as it would go. And he was growing more impatient by the minute. What is he doing?

In a split second, Draco's finger snapped back, followed by Draco gripping the end of his table tightly. To Harry's surprise, Draco's friends were paying absolutely no attention to this; they failed to notice Draco's behaviour growing stranger and stranger by the moment.

Ron stifled a laugh. "Harry," he whispered, "check Malfoy out." (Harry sniggered.) "Stupid git must have gotten stung by one." By now, nearly half of the class were watching Draco put on a little show, except for the three who were sitting with him and the rest of the Slytherins.

"What's goin' on here?" asked the teacher of the class, Hagrid. He walked to Draco, who now was a few inches off the ground. "Stung, were yeh?" Draco went to object, but Hagrid wouldn't let him. "Well, there's nothin' you can do 'bout it now, I'm afraid. Just have to wait it out." And he walked away, just like that.

Eventually Draco stopped and Harry's attention was back with his own friends. The class was dismissed, Harry went to pick up his bag. "Not a very good teacher, is he, this Professor Hagrid?"

Hermione looked like she about to say something, but instead said nothing. Ron shot her a dirty look. "No, Hagrid is a wonderful teacher," he replied, "He's just well... different." They walked away from the class, waving to Hagrid.

"So you don't remember anything at all?" Ron asked when they reached the entrance to the school. Harry shook his head. "Well, I guess it's just a matter of time then."

"Well," Hermione announced, "I have Arithmancy now. I'll see you two at dinner?" They nodded and she was off in the other direction.

"What do we have?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron groaned. "You're going to hate this class. All the teacher does is predict your death and I'm sure she'll be pleased to find out that you've lost your memory. It's at the top of the North Tower, c'mon." Ron lead the way, and Harry followed not so far behind.

"But what class is it?"

"Divination. It's a whole bunch of rubbish. We once had a good teacher for a month or so last year, but I don't know what happened to him. Anyway, we should hurry up, we're going to be late."

They finally arrived at a ladder, leading to a trap door. "This is the classroom?" Harry pointed up. Truthfully, he didn't know why this surprised him, considering everything else that has been going on. Ron nodded and headed up, in front of Harry.

When they both entered the classroom, already late, the teacher, instead of scolding them, smiled. "It's okay you're late, dears, I knew you were going to be. Take a seat." She gestured to two empty chairs, at a table next to two other Gryffindor boys and they went to sit down.

"Now, today we will be starting something new, and don't become too attached to it, because we're only doing this today. Now, if you take a look at the books that I set out for you on the table, Predicting Your Future: The Complete Book of Divination and turn to page one-hundred and seventy-six, you will see exactly what I'm talking about."

Harry grabbed the book in front of him and pulled it towards him on the table. He obediently flipped open the book to the said page. On the page was 'Pendulums' written at the top, and on the page to the right was a diagram of a swinging pendulum.

"Now, this will be simple enough! I'm know most of you will not have a problem with it at all." She smiled in the direction of two Gryffindor girls that, not-so-surprisingly, Harry didn't recognise. "Some might, but that's why I'm here. Now, on the tables I have laid out a pendent for every student. So just follow the instructions and begin asking it questions!" She smiled and started to visit the students as they worked.

"Since when does a pendulum tell the future?" Ron stared at his dangling in front of him.

"Well, there's no harm in trying, is there?" With some hope he placed his silver diamond-shaped pendent on the table, and asked out loud, "Will I ever get my memory back?" He lifted the pendent carefully off the table, as it said to do in the book and stared at it as it swung toward him.

"What are we supposed to be looking at?" Ron questioned dully.

Harry kept on staring. "It's supposed to give us an answer, isn't it?"

"You have to find out which swing is 'yes' and which is 'no' first, dears," came the airy-like teacher's voice from behind them. "Here," she said, "let me show you." She pulled her own pendent out from her pocket, put her arm out forward, setting it on the table. "Now, show me 'yes.'"

She lifted the pendulum off the desk and looked at it. It swung from the left to right. "See, now there's your 'yes'." She put the pendent back down and repeated, only this time asking for a 'no.' This time, the pendent swung front to back. She did the same thing, asking for a 'maybe', and the pendulum swung in a little circle.

"Now," she said, "what was the question you asked before?"

Ron went to answer, "We asked if --"

"If we were going to have 'mystery meat' for dinner again," Harry quickly cut in. For some reason, he had a feeling he didn't want this woman to know what they were really about to ask.

She placed the pendulum down, and brought it up. According to what she just said, the answer was a 'no'; the pendent was swinging towards her. "I'm afraid not. Now, why don't you try?"

Harry set the pendent on the table and looked up at the teacher. "Do we have to verbally ask the question?"

"No, no, of course not."

Harry found out the 'yes' (which was the opposite of the teacher's), found out the 'no', and the 'maybe' (which was the only thing that matched the teacher's). He placed the pendulum down on the table and thought of his question.

Will I ever get my memory back?

He lifted the pendulum carefully and stared. It swung left to right, meaning 'no', seemingly satisfied with Harry's expression, the teacher left. Ron nudged Harry and whispered, "Trelawney's gone, what did you ask?"

"Well, it's rubbish, anyway, isn't it?"

"Well, what did you ask it?"

Harry shrugged it off. "Nothing, I was just humouring her. Anyway, you reckon we should ask it a few more questions anyway? We still have a good half-hour here, at least, right?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "then we can eat."

"And it won't be mystery meat," Harry grinned at Ron as he adjusted the pendent for the next question.

Finally, forty minutes later, Professor Trelawney announced to the class their homework assignment (to ask the pendulum twenty questions and write the questions and the answers down), and no later did the bell ring.

"Are all of her classes like that?" Harry asked Ron as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Actually, no," Ron replied quickly, "usually her classes are a lot worse. And they usually involve predicting your death. Little disappointed she didn't today, actually."

Just as they neared the Great Hall, a familiar voice came up behind them. "Potter," the voice said calmly.

Both Harry and Ron were quick to stop in the their tracks, and Ron was even quicker to respond. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco, who seemed unaffected by Ron jumping down his throat, just looked at him and calmly replied, "I don't ever remember addressing you, Weasley." He turned to Harry. "I just have to inform you that we'll be serving detention with Professor Snape tonight in his office. He has also asked me to take you there, seeing as you won't remember where he office is. So I'll be meeting you at the entrance to the Great Hall at a quarter to eight. "

"I could show him to Snape's office," Ron said defensively.

"That's nice, Weasley. And if you're just a split second late, Potter, Professor Snape has given permission to just leave and you'll miss detention." He paused, and added with fake concern, "And who would ever want that?"

After no response from neither Ron or Harry, Draco shrugs and walked away. "See you then, Potter," were the last words he threw over his shoulder.

"He's a slimy git, I'm telling you," Ron said, watching Draco walk off.

"Yeah... he is, isn't he?"

***

Draco looked at the small, green, sand-filled hourglass he brought with him, to make sure that Potter arrived exactly on time. The sand on the top was quickly running out. "My, my, Potter, I would have expected you to be here now," he whispered silently to the hourglass.

It wasn't all that late (in Draco's opinion), yet there still wasn't a student in sight. He dully looked around, and went back to staring at the hourglass. He even tapped the top a couple of times, forcing a few extra grains of sand to the bottom faster than they would have.

The top half of the glass was almost done spilling out, when, to Draco's disappointment, came Harry's voice from down the hall.

"Malfoy."

***

Draco wasted no time and just walked in the direction Harry was walking. "Come with me, Potter." Harry followed and within moments they were at the door of what seemed like Snape's office.

Draco politely knocked twice and Snape opened the door. "Thank you, Mister Malfoy." He looked over to Harry expressionless. "Tonight, the two of you will be cleaning and polishing all of my potion ingredients." He stopped to reconsider. "Second thought, just the ones in my office."

That didn't seem so bad to Harry. How many potions ingredients could one keep in his office?

Snape opened the door, and Harry soon found out. He gaped at the massive amount of jars lining one wall, only to see even more on the opposite side of office. "Everything you need is right here, on my desk." Snape walked over to his desk to sit down, pulling out a stack of parchments. He looked at Harry.

"Oh, and Potter, these are all glass. Do try not to break anything, will you?"

Harry ignored this comment and walked over to Snape's desk to grab a cloth and some polish. He went to the wall nearest him and grabbed a jar labelled Crushed Unihorn. But, before he was able to scarcely touch the jar, Snape jumped up and grabbed it out of his hand.

"Don't touch this one, Potter." Snape put it back.

Harry could clearly hear a stifled laugh from the opposite side of the room.

***

As time went on, it inched dangerously close to eleven. Draco hoped that he would be dismissed soon. Right now, Potter was on the other side of the room, shining ingredient bottles and was occasionally yelled at by Professor Snape, and Snape was sitting down, marking exams.

Suddenly, Snape rose up from his chair and made his way to the door. "I will be right back. Mister Malfoy, would you do me a favour and make sure that Mister Potter here doesn't break anything while I'm gone?"

"Yes, Professor Snape," Draco replied as he placed a jar gently down onto the shelf and Snape left the room.

Draco grinned to himself. This was getting all too easy. He turned around and faced Harry. "Need some help over there, Potter? I'm nearly done with mine." Without giving Harry a chance to answer, Draco walked to Harry's side of the room and grabbed a dusty jar that was surrounded by freshly polished ones.

Harry faced Draco. "Look like you missed one, Potter." Draco looked down at the label. "Crushed Unihorn."

"He said not to touch that one, Malfoy," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Nonsense!" Draco began to polish the jar himself.

Harry was visibly agitated by this. "Put it back."

"You take it then." Draco held the jar out to Harry, while Harry just stared at it. "Fine, I'll just drop it then."

"Just hand it to me."

Draco went to hand it to Harry, but before Harry could get any kind of grip on it at all, Draco let the jar fall to the floor and shatter. Draco immediately pulled his hand back from the mess and looked at Potter accusingly. "Now, why would you do something like that?" he asked loudly.

Snape arrived at the door, but Draco continued. "And after Professor Snape specifically asked you not to even touch that one you go and drop it on the floor -- Oh, hello, Professor Snape."

Professor Snape was already fuming. "What is going on here?" (Harry said nothing.) "Well, Potter? I suppose you think that since you lost your memory there will be no consequences for your actions."

"No, I --"

"Well, you're wrong. You Mister Potter, will be serving another five days detention and since Mister Malfoy has been wrongfully accused of pushing you to your memory loss, you will be serving those five more detentions with him." He turned to Draco. "And you, Mister Malfoy, are excused for tonight."

Draco suppressed a smirk. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

When Snape went to sit down, Harry took this as an opportunity to confront Draco. "What was that for?" he whispered.

Draco contemplated not saying anything at all, but whispered back:

"Misery loves company, Potter.... Don't you know?" And Draco left Snape's office after bidding Snape good night.