And So Life Goes On...

Part of "The Aevum Series"

Chapter Eight
A Door Opens

The first thing Harry does after falling on his arse is groan like a respectable man in pain would. Of course that does little to deter the bouncing, enthusiastic boy on his lap giving him a hug that squeezes him more than he would like. But he would never push the child away even if he feels like this is the right thing to do--this is what he would want if he were Teddy.

"I take it you missed me?" Harry remarks with a cheerful smile.

Teddy frowns, looking older than he should. "You didn't come back yesterday!"

"Ah yes," Harry murmurs, "I was detained for a while." He had not even realized how much time he had spent at Severus' office until Severus literally pushed him out the door and told him to go home and get some rest. By then it was so late that the streets were pretty much deserted. "I'm sorry, was Becky upset?"

Teddy shrugs, his arms still linked around Harry's neck. "She was surprised when you didn't come back." The boy grins impishly. "I don't think she expected you to listen to her." He leans in and whispers conspiratorially into Harry's ear, "After an hour or so when you should have been back, she thought maybe you had gotten sidetracked by someone."

Harry rears his head back and blinks a few times. "What?"

"So," Teddy murmurs, getting a sly look in his eyes that Harry definitely doesn't recognize as his own, "who was it?"

Harry fights the blush because it is true--he was sidetracked by someone--and in the way the boy insinuates. Goddammit, why does Teddy have to be so mature and with it at his age? Harry bets anything, bets his trust fund that he was nothing like Teddy is at this age, and yet why does he feel such an affinity with him? Harry knows it's the feeling he wants to ask about, it's just the why behind it that troubles him.

Severus, he repeats, feeling warm and yet not. So much the man, his lover, has told him about the life they had led together after he had graduated from Hogwarts. Told him about why he fell into the darkness, explained how he became depressed and wanted nothing to do with living, and what really mattered was the fact he overcame that. He climbed out of his depression through the Dark Arts and managed through luck, protection spells, and sacrifice to defeat a powerful Dark Lord. What a life he had had.

"Harry?" Teddy calls, patting his face with both hands. "Earth to Harry!"

"Hmmm?"

"Play with me?" Teddy asks, pointing over to the miscellaneous games on the floor. "How about chess?"

"All right," Harry agrees, thinking life had been much simpler when he hadn't known about his former life. "Chess sounds--" Ron also likes chess, he remembers and pauses. They had played at Hogwarts, and Ron was very good. He frowns at the memory and then shakes his head when Teddy squeezes his hand.

"Chess is okay, right?"

Harry smiles and nods, knowing that Teddy picked it because he's good at it. "It's fine."

"Awesome!" Teddy exclaims and jumps off his lap to go and set up the board. "Do you want to be black or white?"

"Err... black is fine," he answers.

Teddy grins and waves the white Queen in the air. "I get to go first then!"

Why had he ever thought that Teddy reminds him of him?

-

"Sometimes," Harry said and snapped his fingers, "I think I'm so close to remembering. I can almost feel it, almost grab it but it slips from my fingers as if it doesn't want me to latch onto it yet."

More than a year, Hermione smiled down at him and ran her fingers through his dark hairs. "I'm sure you'll remember one day. Didn't your doctors, Pomfrey and Snape, say it'll take time?"

"It's been more than enough time," he grumbled and pouted. "You'd think I'd get some of my memories back by now!"

She sighed and twirled his hair around. "Have you finished the book I gave you?"

"You gave it to me last week," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "You really don't expect me to have finished that thick book, do you?"

She laughed. "I guess I can't." She pinched his nose playfully. "But promise me you will read it, all right?"

He grimaced. "One day, I will."

-

It is Wednesday and like the previous day, he spends it with Severus talking. Well, mostly he does the listening and Snape does the speaking. But it doesn't bother him, not when he's finally learning details about his life that Draco would never know. He blushes lightly when he thinks about some of the sexual questions he'd asked and had been answered. Who would have thought he was that bold in bed?

Severus coughs and Harry jerks his face toward him. "What?"

"You weren't paying attention," Severus snaps, much like he usually does as his doctor. But this snapping tone has a familiarity to it, and dare he think--an affection? From what has been told of their relationship, Harry has to conclude, it was as dysfunctional as Severus claims--but it wasn't without some real feeling to it, even if it was not the wholesome variety. "Daydreaming of Draco maybe?"

Harry is starting to believe that Draco had lied about the fact that Severus liked him. Everything his former lover has said has been negative. A part of him wants to attribute it to jealousy, but that seems a little weird considering Draco and him used to be rivals--enemies. But he wants to trust in Draco, even more than Severus, because Draco offered the key and gave it.

"Why would I?" Harry inquires, staring resolutely into the dark eyes. "And why do you sound like you hate him?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Severus counters, his eyes piercing Harry's.

He feels paralyzed, trapped, and confused. "I thought you liked him."

"Is that a memory?" Severus demands, his voice low and lethal. "Or is that what Draco Malfoy told you?"

"Draco," Harry answers. "That's what Draco says." He hesitates and nibbles at his lip, noticing how Severus' gaze diverts to the simple motion. "But weren't you his Head of House, shouldn't you like him?"

Severus rolls his eyes slowly, exaggeratedly. "Just because he was in my House does not mean that I have to like that arrogant, spoiled little horror."

"But..."

"I know what he said," Severus retorts, "but considering that you now know I used to be a spy, don't you think I could disguise my real feelings from him?"

Harry nods reluctantly. "I guess."

"But you want to know more," Severus states simply.

"I do."

He lets out a growl of frustration. "You and your incessant questions," Severus mutters. "You've heard me mention that Draco's father, Lucius, was a Death Eater. Lucius not only wanted you dead, but I was also his instrument for practicing the Dark Arts. Unlike--"

"Wasn't I--"

"You were mine," Severus snaps, his eyes flashing fiercely. "But I was never as cruel or as vindictive as Lucius Malfoy was. I did it to help you get what you wanted. Lucius did it because it helped him and fed his sadism. I didn't do it out of that sick love of torture, but because..."

"You wanted me," Harry finishes softly. "Didn't you?"

"Yes," Severus hisses.

Harry rubs his tired eyes. "You've told me about our relationship and the events that led up to it, and you've even mentioned my years as your student. You've given me more information than Draco did. But neither of you ever mention my childhood." He pauses and blinks once. "What of my parents? What of my childhood? What was my life like before Hogwarts?"

Severus presses his lips into a thin, unforgiving line. "You would not like what you would hear."

"But I'm asking."

"In this..."

"Answer," Harry demands. "Answer my question."

Severus swallows with difficulty. "You are right, it is a lie. You never knew your parents, they died protecting you from Voldemort--dying the same day when you freed the Wizarding World from his first reign of terror. You were a savior for everyone but your own parents, though I suppose they are proud of you--wherever they are."

"And?"

"And you went to live with your mother's sister, Petunia and her husband, Vernon, and their son, Dudley Dursley..."

-

"You like Hermione, don't you?"

Ron blushed sheepishly and nodded, ducking his head beneath a pillow.

Harry chuckled and chunked his pillow at his best friend. "If you like her, you ought to ask her out!"

"I... I--uh, I don't know what to do!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry threw back his head and nearly shouted with laughter. He was shaking so hard that it took a good few minutes before he was able to control himself and actually say something to the beet-faced Ron. "I think saying you're crazy about her would work. Or," Harry remarked with a sly look, "you could say you love her truly, madly, deeply and can't live without her!"

"Harry Potter!" Ron screeched, throwing both pillows at him. "I will not!"

Harry caught them both with his excellent reflexes and tucked one underneath his head. "Why not? It'd work," he responded casually. "And it's better than doing nothing, which is what you're doing. If you're going to wait for her to come to you, then you're going to wait for a very long time." Harry uncrossed and then re-crossed his ankles. "She's a bit oblivious about matters of the heart, though she's got a tremendous grasp on book-learning."

Ron sighed raggedly and his body slumped forward. "Don't I know it."

Harry chuckled and threw Ron's pillows back at him. "She'll find out eventually, but if you told her--it'd be a lot better... for both of you. It'll only get worse if you keep stalling. She's not going to figure it out by herself and when someone else tells her--like your Ginny--she's going to be pretty upset that you weren't the one to tell her first. I mean, I think everyone knows, especially if I know!"

"Ugh," Ron muttered, burying his face in his hands, "why does life have to be so bloody complicated?"

-

"Oh god," Harry says, burying his face in his hands. "I don't believe this. I can't believe this. All this--" His shoulders slump forward and he takes a trembling step forward. "My entire childhood has been a lie."

"Harry..." Severus reaches out to him, but when Harry feels his hand touch him--he jerks his body away. "They did what they thought was best," he says, though Harry could tell there is disapproval in Severus' voice, "even if what they did was unwise."

How is it that Harry can still read this enigmatic man's tone even when his memories elude him? The funny thing is, he knows he isn't guessing, he just knows. It is like how he knew how to walk, though he still doesn't understand why he could know that and not remember his memories. And isn't this some innate memory then? Or is this all instinctive? But how?

"You've told me who I became, my life as student, and even of my childhood," Harry murmurs, lifting his face up and staring at Severus, "but you have yet to tell me why they decided to keep this from me."

Severus takes in a sharp breath and then lets it out raggedly. "You lost your magic at first and becoming a squib--"

"A squib?"

"Someone non-magical born to a magical personage," he explains. "As I was saying, becoming a squib when you were born with magic has a high probability of making a person go crazy. The more powerful the wizard or witch, the more likely and the worse it gets. They were trying to save you from that insanity."

There was a justifiable reason for what they did, Harry thinks with a rush of relief and yet as his mind playback what Severus had said he picks up a funny phrase. The type of phrase that makes everything infinitely more complicated. But then a simple answer would not sate his grim curiosity nor would it be enough in a situation like this. The only true answer would have to be complex, difficult, and life-shattering.

"You said at first..."

"You eventually got your magic back, and I believe when the connection that was broken mended itself, it pulled your memories back too." Severus pinches the bridge of his nose. "You have always been amazingly resilient and lucky, so I suspect that your innate magic doesn't like it when you're not completely yourself. Whatever it was, your memories returned nearly at the same time as your magic. That is--"

"That's why they cast that spell on me," Harry mutters, his eyes growing darker and filling with some anger. "You said that this isn't the first time that I've remembered, that you didn't know about it until it was too late. It's because my memories came back with my magic, and they were afraid of how I would react, so like the fucking cowards they are--they restarted me so everything would go as they wanted it to. They never even considered what I might have wanted. "

"No," Severus agrees, reaching out with his hand to pull Harry to him into a tight embrace, "they didn't."

"I want to hate them," Harry whispers fiercely. "I need to hate them."

Severus' hand trails down his back, stroking him softly and comfortingly--unlike the man he used to know, and yet sending tingles of feelings of what his love life had been in the past. "I have hated them," Severus declares in a chilling voice. "I have hated them for a very long time." He presses his lips against the top of Harry's head. "You should hate them for what they have done to you. Because how can you forgive them?" A cold finger traces his cheek. "You were angry last time, I heard, filled with wrath. Don't tell me," he whispers, "you want to forgive them."

Harry shakes his head, pulling away. "But I can't."

"You can," Severus says fiercely. "If you believe you can."

"No, no, no!" Harry crouches down, rocking back and forth. "No..."

"Why not?" Severus goads. "After all they have done to you?"

"What about you?" Harry cries suddenly. "You have been drugging me! Shouldn't I hate you too? After what you've done! What do you have to say? And is it permanent?" He digs his fingers into his hair and pulls at the ends in frustration, anger, and helplessness. This, at least, he can control unlike his life. "The pills! What do they do?"

Any semblance of color on Severus' face drains away. "They reinforce the Abdo Animus spell and restrict your magic."

Harry lets out a ragged breath and hugs his legs tighter. "What am I suppose to do?" He rests his forehead against his knees. "Who am I?"

He doesn't know when Severus knelt down next to him until his hand strokes his back. "You are Harry."

-

Neville had asked him out. Harry slumped against the door and sunk to the floor. Neville Longbottom had asked to go to dinner with him whenever he was free next week. He had never even considered the nice young man in that way, as anything more than a friend, even if he was gay and thought that Neville leant in the same way. Now to even consider it made him feel weird. It felt almost wrong, but why?

Harry shook his head and sighed, staring at nothing really and yet everything at once. There was nothing wrong with Neville, he was a pleasant young man but certainly not someone he envisioned himself with. Of course, there was the problem of rejection. He knew rejection would hurt Neville, and he hated hurting anyone. Maybe he could say he needed more time, that he still wasn't ready to date anyone. It was hardly more than a year since his accident, and he was still getting settled into his new life--into his new routine at the children's shelter. And he simply couldn't possibly... go out with him.

"I'm sorry, Neville," he practiced. "I'm still not ready." He fidgeted with his hands. "I'm still adjusting. I'm honored you asked though, but I can't go with you for dinner."

Harry buried his face in his hands. Goddammit, he cursed, why am I saying no to someone perfectly nice like Neville? Because of his stupid, past lover whose identity was shrouded in mystery and Harry just knew whoever he was--was nothing like Neville Longbottom. Harry snorted and knocked his head against the wall. Somehow he just had the feeling that his lover was the antithesis of everything Neville represented, and yet why was he attracted to such a man?

He sighed. He guessed love was an irrational thing. Crazy love.

-

Today it is not his alarm clock that wakes him, but loud knocking on the door. Harry rubs his tired eyes and blinks warily at the darkness pervading his room. Whoever the bloody hell it is, he thinks, better have a damn good reason for making such an ungodly noise this early in the morning. He stumbles out of bed and shakes his groggy head to try and wake himself up a bit more. The only thing he really registers until he gets to the door and opens it is that no one ever visits him this early.

Well, he now knows one person that does... "Draco," he says. "What are you doing here?"

Draco smirks and breezes by him. "Good morning, Harry. Not a morning person are you?" he inquires, giving him a thorough lookdown from head to toe.

Harry realizes that his hair must be messier than usual and his eyes are probably tiny slits, not that he really cares. He bets it's only 6:00 at the latest, and who wakes up at that time? He stifles a groan and tries to smile, but he fails. "You didn't answer my question," he grumbles. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't friends visit each other?" Draco inquires, lifting an elegant eyebrow.

How the man looks so bloody good at a time like this, Harry has not the faintest clue. But that's beside the point, considering Draco still has not answered his question. Really, Harry could learn the technique for evading questions from him. "I thought you said we were enemies during our school years and that we hated each other."

"Oh we were, I don't deny that," Draco murmurs, stepping closer to Harry--much too close. They are but inches apart and Harry can feel Draco's warm breath when he talks. "We definitely were enemies, but I like to think that happened more because of Weasley and different House affiliations than anything else."

Harry backs up and trips over something on the floor. Draco grabs both his arms and yanks him close, their bodies pressing against each other. "Watch out," Draco whispers into his ear, "you don't want to fall, do you?"

Gulping nervously, Harry steadies himself and then moves away from Draco. He goes over and plops himself down on the couch, mentally cringing when Draco takes a seat right next to him. He stares down at his hands because he doesn't want to look at Draco looking at him. And he still hasn't made up his mind if he is going to tell him about Severus. He does trust Draco, but then--he trusted his real friends and look where that led him.

"And we are friends, aren't we?" Draco asks, leaning toward him and reaching over with his hand to tilt Harry's face up. "Because when you have friends like yours, shouldn't your enemies become your best allies?"

Harry raises his eyes a fraction to meet Draco's. "Friends that hurt each other?"

Draco's finger touches his lips and he smiles unpleasantly. "I think I'd say helping and hurting. And there's a reason you know, a reason for all this."

He is afraid to ask, to know, to find out what reason Draco has. Whatever it is, it cannot be good, and he is tired--weary of hearing things he cannot handle but must.

"Don't you want to know?" Draco inquires, his fingers tracing down Harry's throat. "It's nothing really bad, I suppose. But to me, I think it's justification enough."

Harry's throat constricts, and he swallows harshly. "You're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?"

"Of course," Draco remarks, his hand leaving Harry's face. "You have a right to know why I would even want to hurt you. At first, it's because just knowing you would never feel the same about your friends again was enough. And knowing you, that would hurt you--pain you to know you couldn't trust those you loved. But then, I got intrigued--thinking about you as you are--not knowing anything and not having any of the prejudices that the Wizarding World currently has for me. And finally while I was away, I realized I could not stop thinking of you."

Draco pauses and looks away, his gaze focusing on something--the wall. "It's something strange to realize you're obsessed and have been obsessed for many years," he murmurs, tucking some stray hair behind his ear. "It began when I was child, hearing so many stories of you and your impossible act, and it really started when you rejected me for Weasley." Draco stops and his nostrils flare. "I mean, how could you? How could you choose that redhead over me? And yet, it only made me more interested in you and you were a challenge to me--besting me in everything except grades. But what do grades matter? Your friend Granger, the smartest witch Hogwarts has produced in a century is toiling behind a desk in the Ministry waiting to be promoted, which is unlikely to happen anytime soon.

"And you had to be better and braver than me in everything," Draco declares, punctuating his words with a snap of his fingers. "Do you know how fucking irritating that is?" Draco jerks his head toward Harry and shoves his face forward, a lot like Severus had done earlier. "Especially when my father married my mother to produce the best heir possible? Mingling the Malfoy blood with that of the Black family, ancient pureblood with ancient pureblood, and yet you--a half-blood proved superior, able to defeat the strongest wizard born since Grindelwald."

Draco clenches his fingers until his knuckles turn white. "What is even worse than you being better than me is that now I realize how bloody obsessed I am with you. How I collected articles about you, how I wasn't happy unless you were around for me to torment, how unsatisfying my life has been since you've disappeared as if you no longer existed! And here you are now, here you are, and you don't remember anything about me--and I can't help thinking what a fool I am for not compounding on that, for not using that!

"I should never have told you about your past," he whispers. "I should have left you in the dark."

-

"Shouldn't you be at work?" he remarked after they had both taken their customary spots in his living room. "I mean, it's the middle of the day and all."

"Shouldn't you be at the shelter?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow at him.

He rolled his eyes. "I have a feeling you won't answer my question until I answer yours, so here goes... I'm home because it's a government holiday and the kids don't come on those days. It's like our 'off-days' during the week."

"Ah, I see," she murmured. "I'm not at work because I finished the busy work they gave me and I thought I might as well drop by and see if you were home."

"Oh, is that so?" Harry stretched and placed his arms behind his neck. "Hey Hermione, can I ask you a question?"

"I can't guarantee to answer," she remarked, "but go ahead."

"I've been wondering... why is it that I've never been to your flat?" he asked from his spot on the couch where his legs spread to the very end. "I mean, I've been to Ron's and you guys regularly come to my place, but I haven't been to yours, Ginny's, or even Neville's."

Hermione frowned a bit and straightened up from lounging on one of his soft, comfy chairs. "Well, uh..., my place's a bit of a mess," she admitted, blushing. "I mean, there are books everywhere--but they're in neat stacks! And well, my cat's very antisocial, really doesn't like anyone much."

His shoulders slumped forward in disappointment. "I see."

She chewed on her lower lip and tucked her feet underneath her bottom. "Do you really want to go?"

He shrugged. "It's okay." It took a moment before he smiled brightly. "You know, you having a lot of books around is so like you."

She laughed. "It is, isn't it?"

-

"What are you saying?"

"WHAT AM I SAYING?!" Draco explodes, his hands reaching out and grabbing Harry by his shirt. He drags Harry to him until their bodies touch intimately and that is when Harry notices something odd poking into his belly. He glances down, and his eyes snap up abruptly. "Don't you know?" Draco murmurs darkly, his arm snaking around Harry's waist and using it as leverage to press his erection even more against him. "Can't you feel it? Or are you as dumb and witless as you were before?"

Harry struggles, pushes against Draco's chest, and tries to do anything to get the blond off of him but of course it does little good except to cause Draco to moan as Harry rubs against his erection. Harry closes his eyes and feels the moan go straight to his groin. Dammit, he thinks, this is not what he needs if he intends to get the fucking blond off of him! And why is he becoming aroused anyway? His lover is, was Severus--Severus!--not Draco!

"Why?" he rasps, leaning his head as far back as he can and panting. "You hate me. You want to hurt me. I know about--I remember some things about the past--you really hated me, and your father wanted me dead."

Draco lifts an eyebrow and there is a gleam in his silver eyes that Harry doesn't like. He has a feeling that he has made a mistake, that he shouldn't have trusted Draco, that he is handling a dragon as a ranked amateur instead of a pro. "So your memories are coming back to you, are they?" Draco whispers, his hands gripping Harry's arse. "That's rather sudden, isn't it?"

"You were the catalyst," Harry says softly, breathing harder and feeling very uncomfortable. Considering the position he is in and the fact that Draco is a beautiful young man--his reaction is only normal, he tells himself. "You made my memories come back."

"Are you grateful?"

He feels horribly aroused and wishes that his erection would go away. He wishes that this had never happened, wishes that he had never bumped into Draco, wishes that
Draco had left him in the dark. Maybe this kind of help isn't what he needs. But then who should help him?

Severus has been trying to help and says he did the best he could under wizard's oath, but did he really? There is also his friends to factor in, especially Hermione's odd behavior when the two of them were alone. Is she under the same oath? Is that why she gave him subtle hints she knew he probably wouldn't get? And then there is Draco--he stares until the blond blurs--who was his enemy and now his friend?

"How much do you remember?"

Not... "Enough."