And So Life Goes On...

Chapter Five
Underneath the Rug

Today is the day.

Harry knows it when he wakes up. It puts him off his schedule. But he tries to focus on getting undressed and forgetting what is to come. But first he must shower. He takes out a new change of clothes and he thoughtlessly tosses them to the ground like he does to his pajamas. It wrinkles the clothes, and while he doesn't mind this, he has a feeling Draco Malfoy's nose will crinkle with distaste. He dumps the creased clothes into the hamper, shucks his boxers, and gets into the shower. He is too busy thinking of how Draco will prove he's a wizard that he turns on the cold water instead of the hot water. He shivers for a minute or so, and then realizes he is going to remain cold unless he turns on the hot water. He curses and twists the knob.

The only good thing about being off his usual routine is that he is early to the shelter. He actually beats Becky and ends up waiting outside, standing awkwardly on the steps and thinking he really ought to have brought a change of clothes. They might not be crumpled yet, but it is hardly likely they will stay that way. The kids will want to play and he can never say no--so he knows he will oblige and get messy. He sighs and taps his finger against the brick. Such is life, he thinks.

He knows his friends are going to be unhappy with him when he tells them he has to cancel their regular Friday get together. He hasn't done that since... since he cannot remember when. But it was a long, long time ago. However, Draco told him that if he wants to know before next Thursday, he has to come today--this evening, actually. He has yet to call, has yet to tell them, but he will. He promises himself he will call right before he has to be there, even though he is a little afraid of Hermione's lecture on the responsibility of giving a 24-hour window for canceling anything.

"You're here early," Becky remarks, startling the shit out of him.

He jumps and then sheepishly scratches the back of his head. "I guess I am."

She chuckles. "For you, this is like the unthinkable."

He smiles weakly and follows her in after she opens the door. After helping her turn the lights on and get everything up and running, he retreats to his office and stares at the walls. He knows Becky would like to chat with him, but she respects his space and leaves him be. He glances at the clock on the wall and it reads 7:45. God, he puts his head down on his arm, he is so fucking early. And it is a long while before he can meet Draco at 5:00 at the train station.

It gives him too much time to think, to be afraid that if there is proof--then he must conclude that everything Draco has said is true. Right now, there is a part of him that doubts this. It is possible that Draco is a wizard, and that he is not. Only a small part of him believes this because the way Draco treats him and such leads him to believe he has known him for quite some time. Also there is the fact that Draco would never talk to him as someone so powerful if he was not. It is not in Draco to overestimate someone, and if anything Harry believes he prefers to understate a person's abilities and magnify their faults. And, god, his world is going to come crashing down.

"HARRY!" Teddy exclaims, running and launching himself at him. "You're early today!"

"Yeah," Harry says, "I guess I am."

Teddy plants both hands with their cold fingertips on Harry's cheeks. "Why?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares?" Teddy asks, rubbing his fingers against Harry's cheeks as if trying to suck the warmth out of him. Selfish bugger, Harry thinks affectionately.

"No. I was just... thinking."

"Worried about something?"

Harry looks carefully at the boy, sitting in his lap. "How come you're so smart?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Teddy drops his hands to his lap. "Aunt Pat says she's worried when she usually can't sleep."

Harry frowns, and he guesses that it's a recent occurrence because Patricia has looked very tired recently. "What she is worried about?"

"Money problems," Teddy answers and rests his head on Harry's chest. "It's worse than usual. Uncle Victor got laid off." The boy shudders and wraps his arms around himself. "Aunt Pat's been working a lot more. She's almost never home." He nibbles on his bottom lip. "After she picks me up and drops me off, she goes to her next job." Teddy leans up and whispers, "I hide in the closet, where Uncle Victor can't find me, so he can't scream at me for being a worthless, stupid little boy."

For some reason, Teddy's words make Harry feel very cold and very lonely. It's like a feeling of a memory, like the ones he gets when he sees photos of people that he knew well in the past. He gets the most from Remus, a little from Sirius, and almost none from his parents, which is weird. Harry has wondered about it, maybe tonight Draco can answer his many questions, explain the many discrepancies.

"Uncle Victor isn't right, is he?"

What Teddy says jolts Harry from his thoughts. He quickly wraps his arms around Teddy and whispers fiercely, "No, your uncle is dead wrong. You are sweet, lovable boy. Just listen to what your Aunt says."

"But--"

"No buts," Harry states firmly, bending down to brush a kiss on Teddy's forehead and thinking this feels familiar in an odd way. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, though I wish I could change one thing about you."

Teddy's forehead wrinkles as much as a child's can. "What?"

"I wish you didn't have to grow up so fast."

-

He liked watching the children after lunch when most of them were knackered from playing all morning and having food in their tummies, when they fell asleep on their mats to take their afternoon nap. Even the exuberant and tireless Teddy was taking a nap today, and Harry watched the child with longing and a sense of helpless bitterness. It was not like he would ever have a child of his own flesh and blood, he thought. Not when I'm gay.

"You look tragic," Becky remarked, coming up behind him to peer over his shoulder at the kids. "What are you thinking about?"

"Them," Harry whispered, gesturing to the sleeping children. "I want what I can't have."

"You can always adopt."

"Do you think," he began with acrimony, "they're going to let a gay, single man adopt a child?"

"I would," she said. "You're loads better than the single shitheads I date. You're great with children. I think you must have had a wonderful father. Or maybe mother, but you know how to be a good parent figure. Most of the blokes I date are absolutely criminal with the kids here."

Harry laughed. "I think Frank was the worst of the lot."

"Have you noticed I haven't brought any of my boyfriends around in a while?" Becky queried. "Frank was awful! The things he was saying to the kids! It's like he'd never been young himself. Insensitive prick."

"Are you still dating him?"

Becky laughed and smiled sheepishly. "Of course, though heaven knows why."

"You love him," Harry stated.

"It's irrational."

Harry smiled back. "Since when is love rational?"

-

"This is Malfoy Manor," Draco declares, waving his arms grandly at an equally magnificent estate. "I would be careful not to touch anything at all, whether or not it looks dangerous. Some of the items are meant to look appealing and are not meant to be touched unless you would like to be cursed." Draco whispers something and the doors open. "Stick close to me, and try not to stare at the portraits. Some of them have beguiling spells on them."

These are reminders, Harry knows. Draco has already warned him about the paintings that will move, the sinister objects on the tables, and walls that seem to watch everything. Of course, Harry would have liked Draco to have warned him of apparition. The only warning he got is when Draco asks: "Have you ever been one place one instant and another, the next?"

And here they are, in the majestic mansion that Draco calls home. No wonder, Harry muses, that Draco is such an arrogant and egotistical person. To grow up in such a place must have given the blond a sense of superiority and whatnot. Draco probably couldn't change even if he wanted to. This is who Draco is, and Harry wonders what kind of family history he might have.

They walk through a long hallway, then make a right turn into another long passage way. They make so many turns, left and right, and right and left that Harry has no idea how anyone can find their way around such a place. He already has a headache thinking about it. And he has no idea how to get to the front door anymore.

"And here we are," Draco announces, gesturing for Harry to enter into the room first. "It's possible you can do wandless magic, but I thought it best for you to use one today. It will help you focus better. So go ahead, choose a wand, Harry."

Harry stares in absolute amazement at the room. It's a huge room filled with wands all around: some displayed in glass cases, other on wooden stands, and the rest in a pile on the ground. They are all in different sizes, various colors, and some are dull and others are polished shiny. This collection is amazing, in every sense of the word. Harry wonders whether it is Draco that collected these wands or if he inherited them from his ancestors.

"There ought to be one that suits you," Draco remarks and shrugs. "You could say my family is into collecting the wands of dead wizards and witches."

"Dead?"

Draco glances at him and raises an eyebrow. "You don't seriously think a wizard or witch would let you confiscate his or her wand for a private collection unless they were dead, do you?"

-

"You're here, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, running up to hug him. Behind her, he saw the rest of the Weasley family crammed into Ron's flat. "You're finally out of the hospital! And you look very good, as if you hadn't been knocked out for the past two--"

"Ginevra Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "That is hardly the type of thing to say to a guest, even if Harry is considered an honorary Weasley."

Ginny glanced toward her mother and shrugged her shoulders, winking at him on the sly. "I can't help it if I'm a bit on the blunt side," she retorted, stepping away from him. "You ought to blame my brothers for teaching me to have a sharp tongue." She gestured to the numerous male redheads. "They always liked to pick on me and the only thing I could do as a weak little girl was to use my tongue."

Harry watched the varied expressions on each of her brothers with interest: the one in dragon-hide boots was amused and so was the one with long hair, standing next to him, the stern-looking one seemed putout, while the twins seemed to be trying to stick something into the disapproving one's back pockets. Ron (his first and best friend) was just rolling his eyes.

"You broke my nose," Ron remarked. "So I don't think you were a weak little thing at all."

Ginny laughed and it was a pure and lively sound. "No, you are!"

Ron turned red and he turned to Harry, whispering, "This is my family, and it's still not too late to back out of being an honorary Weasley. After all, you've got the memory loss excuse."

Harry saw all of them watching him and Ron closely, and Harry smiled at them reassuringly. "I'm glad to be part of this family."

-

"I don't know what I'm looking for," Harry mutters, holding up another wand and waving it in the air. As with the other wands that he has held, nothing happens. When Draco had demonstrated, there had been sparks shooting around haphazardly, which he said meant the wand was not compatible with him. "Nothing's happening."

Draco frowns and takes the wand from Harry's hand. Once again it sparks for him, shooting out a blue light that hits the wall. Draco quickly puts the wand down and remarks, "I have no idea why none of the wands are reacting to you. But what you're supposed to be feeling is sort of like an internal glow, a feeling of connection. Basically as a wizard, the wand completes you. You're looking for a feeling of being linked to something that makes you whole." Draco shrugs and pushes aside a few of the wands. He grabs the slender box underneath and opens it. "Try this one."

"I doubt it'll work," Harry says, feeling like maybe Draco is wrong and he isn't a wizard after all. But then why would Draco say he is if he is not? Because there is no doubt that Draco is a wizard. And from the looks of this monstrosity of a mansion, a filthy rich wizard at that. "None of the others I've tried worked. And I've tried, I don't know, about a hundred or so of your wand collection already. My wrist is getting tired of swishing and flicking."

"Just take it," Draco snaps. "This is the last one."

Harry reluctantly picks up a slender wand made of yew wood that is a bit longer than the rest. He expects to feel nothing and he is about to say, 'I'm obviously not a wizard' when he feels something. He stares at the wand and it starts to glow a deep emerald shade before it fades. Shocked, he drops the wand and it clatters onto the marble floor.

"So this wand is the one," Draco remarks, bending over with a piece of cloth in his hand to retrieve it. "I should have known it would be this one. Who else but you could ever touch this without feeling any side affects?"

"Whose wand is that?"

Draco places the wand back into the box. "Do you really want to know?"

Harry takes the box. "Yes."

"Voldemort's, of course."

-

He was probably not supposed to hear this, but he was nonetheless. He should feel bad about eavesdropping, especially since it was obviously about him. And yet he didn't think he was hearing anything that would cause any serious problems or that he should feel guilty about. Of course, that did not stop him from feeling that way.

"I don't see why he should spend his time here," Ron muttered. Harry wondered if it was in exasperation or something else. "Don't you think he should be doing other stuff, especially since this atmosphere is probably not the best for his memories?"

"I think it's a good place for him," Hermione remarked, sounding insistent. Harry was used to her bossiness and wondered if Ron knew he almost always let Hermione get her way. "He does good things here, and I think the children need him. Besides, what would you have him do? Not many people will hire him without any work experience. And it's not like he can remember his prior experiences, so what is he supposed to do? Be a bum?"

Ron sighed and probably shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but I don't think this place is good for him. I find it depressing."

"I think it's the opposite," Hermione whispered fervently, just loud enough for Harry to catch her words. "I think it's a wonderful place of hope, and I think Harry sees it the same way. It's a place he can be useful, where he's needed. Besides, you can see it from watching him that he loves working here. Would you take that from him when he has nothing?"

"That's not true," Ron protested. "He has us."

"He needs more than us," Hermione said gently. "And don't pester him about working here anymore. If you must know, I found this place and I thought it perfect for him."

"Hermione--"

She did something to make Ron stop, and Harry had no time to move when she walked out of the door and saw him standing there like the guilty eavesdropper that he was. She did not say anything nor did she reprimand him like he expected. All she did was wink and whisper into his ear, "I meant every word. This place is perfect for you to find yourself."

-

The wand has done nothing: no sparks, no glowing, no anything. Draco has taught him several spells: wingardium leviosa, accio, silencio and none of them seems to work for him. The stick of cherry wood in his hand no longer glows a deep green. It stays lifeless as if it is nothing more than a dead twig from a tree.

"I wonder," Draco murmurs, tracing his finger from Harry's right hand, but not touching not the wand, "if this is the reason you are in the muggle world. The reason they did not tell you that you were a wizard." Draco steps forward and leans over, his lips so close. "Have you lost your magic, Harry?"

Harry's eyes drop to the wand in his hand, watching Draco's slender finger wandering on his skin. It leaves a hot trail that makes Harry nervous, especially when he realizes that Draco is a very, very good-looking man and is standing far too close than is appropriate. And there is no real indication that Draco's inclinations are like his own. Small hints though, like this touching and the caress on the cheek and that hints to Harry that the blond might lean his way, but still no substantial evidence.

"I don't know."

Draco uses his other hand to tilt Harry's chin up. "But if you lost your magic, then the wand should not have reacted at all, regardless of the fact that this is a brother wand."

"Brother wand?"

"It means your original wand, wherever it is, is very similar to the wand you now hold in your hand. In each wand there is a core made of some part of a magical animal. Yours was made from a phoenix feather, as is Voldemort's, and the reason your wands are brothers is because the feathers came from the same phoenix."

"Not that it really matters," Harry mutters, removing himself from Draco's touch. "Obviously I am no longer a wizard and this life that you're showing me is useless. No wonder my friends didn't tell me about this. I would only feel pain in the loss of who I was, and I was wrong to come here."

Draco grabs Harry's wrist and pulls him toward him. "Did you not hear what I said? I said that if you lost your magic the wand would not have reacted at all, which means there is still magic inside of you and I don't know why you can't do the spells. What I have taught you, shown you would be like child's play for a wizard of your power. Do you understand me? You could probably do all this wandless, which is difficult for a mere wizard such as I, but to you it would be easy."

"What are you trying to say?" Harry snaps, trying to removing Draco's hand from his own.

"What I'm trying to say, you idiotic moron," Draco drawls, "is that I think there is something blocking your innate magic. But I think I have something that will prove to you without a doubt that you are a wizard."

"And how do you plan to do that when my magic is being blocked?"

Draco smiles sinisterly. "I would stand back if I were you. If it fails, you won't want to be within striking range."

-

"I still can't remember anything!" Harry exclaimed, waving his hands furiously in the air. "It's been bloody months, and I'm perfectly healthy but I still have no idea who the fuck I am!"

His doctor stared at him with a neutral face and dark eyes. "Of course you can't remember anything," Dr. Snape said sharply. "When you're being an emotional wreck like you are now, you don't get anything done that will help your memories return! How do you expect to regain anything in this state, even if it has been months? If life was so easy, then where would the challenge be?"

"But what if... I never remember?"

Dr. Snape stepped toward him and took a hold of him by his chin. "You will remember, Harry, because you must. And I will try my best to make it possible, just believe in me and do what you think is right and not what others say you need to do. Sometimes, what seems right is really all a lie."

Harry stared at his doctor, getting lost in the fathomless gaze. Dr. Snape had said odd things before, but never so blatantly. It was in these times, when his assistant wasn't there, that Harry knew that his doctor cared about him. It did not stop him from being a bit of a bastard, but he was certainly less of one today. And there was something else, though he was not sure what.

"But how will I know?" he asked, confused and curious.

Dr. Snape released him from his hold. "You have good instincts, use them."

-

"Serpensortia!"

A dark green, almost black jet of magic springs from Draco's wand and lands on the floor with a distinct thump. When the smoke dissipates, Harry stares with horror and fascination at the large black snake that materializes, hissing at him. He takes a step back and immediately draws the serpent's attention. Its hooded head flares wider as if to scare him further, as if it feeds on his fear.

"Are you crazy?" Harry whispers. "What is this suppose to prove?"

He catches a vague smile on the blond's face, but his attention is too wrapped up in the legless reptile in front of him hissing in a threatening manner. "It is suppose to prove everything," Draco answers softly. "You have the innate ability to talk to snakes, and it is a form of magic so natural I don't think they can block it."

"What do you mean I can talk to snakes?" Harry hisses and sees the snake draw back in surprise.

~I have wondered where you are~ the snake hisses as he slithers closer into his seeing range, and Harry's eyes widen when he understands. ~You have not called me in a long time, and I have wondered where you have been. So tell me, Harry, what will you have me do?~

~What are you talking about?~ Harry inquires, his entire being perplexed because he knows that talking to any animal is hardly a normal occurrence of one who believes himself to be non-magical. ~Do what?~

~Will you ask me to help you like you did once before?~ the snake answers as if it is obvious. ~To spy? To kill? To serve you if I wish it again? I did not mind, you are a rare one, a special one like the Great One and not like the Terrible One. You have always been mine, and you have finally called me again to your side.~

Harry takes a few steps backwards and stumbles to the ground, falling hard on his arse. It gives the dark serpent the perfect opportunity to slither up to him and place his poisonous fangs inches from Harry's vulnerable throat. ~I have no idea who you are and what you are talking about. I did not call you~ he hisses and points to Draco. ~He did.~

~He might have called~ the snake hisses, turning his head for a second toward Draco before refocusing on Harry, ~but you are the one that draws me to you. Do you not remember me?~

Harry shakes his head. ~I do not remember anything!~

~So it is like that, I see and I understand. I am Gwrtheyrn, a serpent you called long ago to help you in learning what you said you needed to know. To summon power as you needed, you had to have a strong familiar and you asked for me, choosing me over the others as it should be.~ The long, black serpent slithers further up his body and wraps himself around Harry's neck, loosely and gently. ~I will remind you only this once: you are my human.~ The snake opens his jaw and bites down on Harry's neck, hard and somehow it does not hurt, though he hears Draco's cry of panic and sees the blond running toward him. Draco tries to grab the serpent but it disappears before he can.

"Are you okay Harry?" Draco asks, his face suddenly much kinder when he looks worried. Harry bets that Draco did not expect the snake to bite him, and the anxiety on his face was rather amusing. "The bloody snake didn't hurt you, did he?" The blond kneels down and touches the spot where Gwrtheyrn bit him. "I don't think the snake was poisonous, but we should probably get you some healing potions just to make sure. And what the fuck did you say to make it bite you? You stupid, lamebrain..."

Harry moves his hand, placing it over Draco's. "I'm fine," he states firmly, pulling Draco's hand off of his neck. "What I'm more worried about is what the snake said to me."

Draco frowns. "What did it say?"

"He said I was his."

Draco shrugs and shakes Harry's hand off of his. "You need to get this looked at."

Harry finds himself being pulled to his feet and basically dragged from the wand room into the hallway, down it, and making a turn into another. When they get to wherever Draco wants them to be, Harry feels himself pushed into a chair and sees Draco summon a small glass vial filled with a nasty green liquid. Before Draco can pour some of the liquid onto the white cloth, Harry says softly, "I believe you. I believe I'm a wizard."

Draco drops the vial and it shatters onto the ground in hundreds of little pieces. "Merlin, damn you, you always knew how catch me by surprise."

There is something about the way he curses that reminds Harry of something and he says the first thing that comes to mind: "Actually, you were the one always spying on me for your father."

Draco stops in mid-fixing spell and inclines his head in acknowledgement that Harry is right. "I think you just remembered something," he remarks and whispers the fixing spell that reforms the broken vial. "So Harry, now that you have proof that you are a wizard and you believe me, do you trust me to tell you and show you everything you have been missing?" He dabs the green liquid onto the white cloth and places it on the two punctures on Harry's neck. It feels cool to the touch and tingly like magic. "Much better," he hears Draco murmur. "The bite marks are gone." Draco lowers his hand, replaces the vial in the cabinet, and banishes the cloth. "Because I will if you want."

"But why?" Harry inquires, staring into those beautiful grey eyes. "Why would you help me when you hate me?"

"I've already answered that."

"You said," Harry says softly, "that it would send my life into complete chaos. That it helps me and hurts me, but other than that you get nothing from this. So why? Why Draco? Why do this?"

"Because I have nothing else to do." Draco looks away, and the sunlight catches his face and makes him look like a fallen angel. "So do you want my help or not?"

"I don't think it is in you to give aid freely for nothing."

"It's not," he agrees, "but I'm offering it nonetheless."

"Then it would be foolish for me not to take it, wouldn't it?"

Draco shrugs and turns back, the shadows darkening his pale features. "It's foolish either way."

TBC