Burn

Chapter 4 - Moments Forever Faded

'This plan is only surface

And I do not deserve this

I'm wondering if I'll withstand

To stand alone and stand to scream

To the world

To the world 'I'm through

And now I've come to mend

These wounds were gored by you

Through all of them.''

- Midtown 'A Faulty Fondation'

***

A short while after their mutual catharsis, Remus and Harry sat on the porch swing once again, devouring the sandwiches Mrs Weasley had left and chasing them down with pumpkin juice. All the while they spoke of inconsequential things such as Quidditch and Harry's OWL results. Remus was glad to see that Harry was now volunteering information without having to be pressed, but he was also mindful of the shadow that clouded Harry's naked green eyes every time a subject relating to Sirius came up. They never spoke his name, but the ghost of his memory was always present. Remus had not realised how integrated Sirius had become into Harry's life, despite having only been in it for two short years. That be the nature of family he mused.

'So which NEWTs are Hermione and Ron taking then?' he asked.

'I'm not sure, they've yet to tell me.' Another shadow flitted across Harry's face. 'From what I gather, I'm the only one of us doing Advanced Potions though.'

'They haven't told you?' Remus was incredulous.

'No, they're too busy inspecting each other's tonsils. They didn't even tell me about that, I found out on Monday when I walked in on them snogging in the dining room,' said Harry, a twisted look on his face.

Remus was silent for a moment. 'Maybe they didn't want you to feel left out?' he suggested.

'Oh yeah, they did such a great job of hiding it while I was here didn't they?' drawled Harry. Remus frowned. Harry had never been the sarcastic sort but lately it seemed he rarely spoke in normal tones. But he could see where Harry was coming from: the time he needed his friends the most they had turned away from him and towards each other.

'How do you feel about that?' he questioned tentatively.

Harry sat silently for a moment, staring out into the distance as he contemplated the question. How did he feel about it? 'Hurt, I guess...' he began softly. 'Oddly betrayed,' his voice increased in strength. 'I needed them to be there for me, to support me, to be strong when I was weak, to hold me if I wanted to cry. But they weren't there.' Harry paused for a moment. 'Why weren't they there, Remus?' Harry said in a lost tone as he turned to his mentor, the only person Harry would ever allow to help fill the Sirius-shaped hole in his heart. A look of childlike incomprehension graced his features, making him appear vulnerable and much younger than his sixteen years.

Remus wished he had the words that Harry needed to hear. He needed to comfort the lost soul in front of him but all the platitudes in the world fell short, and then some. 'I don't know,' he finally responded softly.

'It makes me wonder about our friendship. Was it ever really there or was I just imagining it because I wanted it to be there?' Harry continued, trying to sort out his feelings.

'It was there.' Remus began. 'No, it is there Harry. They're going through difficult times of their own -' Harry snorted. 'Maybe not as difficult as what you're going through but they're growing up as well. And despite all the turmoil they must feel for being the Boy Who Lived's best friends, they've been with you through it all, ever since you re-entered your rightful world. Who was it that went with you after the Philosopher's Stone, Harry? Both of them. Who was it that went as far as they could into the Chamber of Secrets? Ron. Though Hermione would have if she could. They've been there for you, standing in your shadow all this time while you found your feet. And now they're looking for their own feet, are you going to begrudge them that?'

'I don't know, I didn't realise...' Harry trailed off. 'I wanted to be angry with them, I wanted to let them know what they've made me feel, how their actions came close to breaking me. But over this summer I think I've lost the part of me that cares. I feel hollow inside, as if there's nothing left in me. What if I never get it back? What if I can never look at my friends the same way ever again? What if I find someone I could be with but am unable? What if?'

All of a sudden things became clear to Remus. 'Is that what this is about, Harry? It's not about them not telling you and it's not about you losing your ability to care because it's there. I can see it. You wouldn't be hurt and betrayed if you had lost it. But it's about your fear of not finding someone for yourself, isn't it?'

Harry looked away then, finding a butterfly perched on a nearby flower to be highly fascinating.

'Harry?' probed Remus.

'Maybe.' Harry muttered under his breath. What was it about today? He was bringing up all the issues that had been plaguing him for weeks but had been determined to keep to himself. Maybe it was high time he got it off of his chest after all, before his return to school and no doubt to another year of Voldemort's terror mingled in with the lessons.

'Is this about Cho?'

Harry's head snapped up. 'How do you know about Cho?'

Remus faltered slightly. 'Well, after you wrote to Sirius about what had happened -' Harry's eyes clouded slightly at the mention of his Godfather '- he came to me not knowing how to reply to you. He was never good at tact,' Remus said, smiling wryly in memory, 'and he wanted to make sure he was giving you the best advice he could.'

Harry sat silently, wanting to be annoyed that Sirius had broken his confidence but found he couldn't care. None of it mattered anymore. Without the grounding presence of his godfather Harry felt lost and alone. He was glad that Remus was still with him but what if he too was taken away? What then? Who else would he have left in his life? 'I'm scared of being alone again,' he finally murmured, eyes downcast. 'I'm scared of waking up one morning to find that all those I love and care for have been taken away just because I couldn't help but be me. But then I think that I'm being selfish for putting them in such a dangerous position. Maybe I am destined to be alone, the reluctant hero who wanted none of this.'

'Harry, everyone that you love and care for knows the risks. We know what it means to be connected to you; we know that Voldemort could strike through us at any moment to get to you. But no matter how hard you push us we won't go away.' Remus tried to reason with the strong-willed boy.

'But you should!' Harry looked up then, his eyes flashing with the passion of his feelings. 'You'll only get hurt! I can't take another loss at his hands; I won't be able to take it. I don't want to give him the chance, dammit!'

'We know that Harry, but you won't get rid of us! Want to know why?' Remus looked Harry squarely in the eye and said simply: 'Because we love and care for you right back. Nothing can change that.'

'Why do you love me?' Harry cried. 'You shouldn't love me! No one should love me, I don't deserve it -'

'NEVER say that,' said Remus sharply, sensing Harry's agitation on the rise. 'Believe that and you lose the one thing that makes you human! Everyone deserves to be loved, Harry, especially you.' Remus finished softly.

'You all can't help but care for me, because that is your way. You, Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley, Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron... it's just the way that you are!' Harry stated. 'But who in their right mind would want to love me for me?'

'I'm sure there is someone out there for you, Harry,' Remus hurried to reassure him.

'Yeah. Sure.' Harry said moodily. 'I thought it was Cho, but look what happened there.'

'Just because one relationship didn't work out for you doesn't mean you're destined to be alone forever,' Remus said. 'So you were misled by your hormones, it happens to all of us. Well, nearly all of us,' he finished, unable to withhold the gloating tone of his voice. It was more than just hormones, but Remus couldn't resist the gibe.

'Just 'cos you're super werewolf-y guy and you like, 'mate for life' or something doesn't mean you have to show off about it,' grumbled Harry, but with a hint of a smile as he responded to the lighter tone of Remus's answer. 'Besides, last I checked, you hadn't found your mate!'

'Details, details,' said Remus airily as the two companions grinned at each other over the abrupt change in conversation. He felt he had finally made a proper connection with the boy. See there, Sirius? He's just like James was when he was younger, always thinking too much about everything.

Harry sat in silence for a short while, feeling better than he had in previous days. He wondered if he should mention to Remus that aside from Cho he had had no romantic notions whatsoever on anyone else's virtue. Wasn't that a sign that he was destined to be alone? But Harry, being the teenager that he was, didn't speak about what was on his mind, but instead deflected the issue somewhat to keep the conversation in the lighter waters they had sailed into. 'I'm sure that any future relationships I may have, it'll be the same issue over and over again that'll pop up - my close friendship with Hermione. What is it with girls and jealousy issues?' There was more to it than that, but Harry really didn't want to go into it.

Remus chuckled, glad that Harry had given up his previous line of thought. 'It's not just girls Harry, it goes with the territory.'

'Now that really makes me feel better, thanks,' said Harry as he sent a wry grin in the older man's direction.

'Anytime,' grinned Remus. He and Harry sat on the swing talking some more, discussing Harry, from Harry's upcoming school year (so, the Yule ball this year Harry?) to Harry's Quidditch ban. Remus hoped that Dumbledore would lift the sanction placed upon the youth by Umbridge the previous year, as Quidditch was one of the few things that would keep Harry's spirits up in the coming months. The sun had past its zenith and it was well into the afternoon when Remus finally broached the subject of Draco Malfoy.

'Harry, one last thing before the others get here.'

'Uh oh, I don't like the sound of that!' teased Harry, having loosened up a great deal since the morning. Had it only been this morning when he and Remus had cried on the grass? It felt like eons ago.

'I don't know whether I have the authority to tell you this but I wasn't given any orders not to. We've been through so much today, Harry, I hope this means you'll come to me whenever you need anything. I'm here for you, remember that. So in this new spirit of honesty between friends, I'm going to tell you anyway.' Remus said, feeling in his heart that this was the right thing to do.

'Go on,' prompted Harry. He didn't like the way Remus was speaking.

'Draco Malfoy turned up at Hogwarts early Sunday morning. Professor Snape found him unconscious on the front steps of the school when he stepped out for his morning walk. It appeared as if he had flown all the way from Malfoy Manor,' Remus began.

'So? What's that have to do with me?' Harry was perplexed.

'Let me finish,' admonished Remus mildly. 'Anyway, he remained unconscious until earlier today. When he came to, we found that he has no recollection of why he arrived back at school early. What he did manage to tell us was that Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban.'

'What? How?' Harry demanded.

Remus shrugged. 'The Ministry hasn't said anything, this was the first time any one of us had heard anything about the escape.'

'And Malfoy told you of his own accord?' Harry frowned.

'I don't know who he told, I was told all this afterwards. Anyway, it seems that Draco is suffering from amnesia, blocking out something he might have witnessed late Saturday night that caused him to flee the Manor.' Harry frowned at Remus' words but otherwise stayed silent. 'Madam Pomfrey also said that while Draco was unconscious he mentioned Voldemort's name, coupled with a phrase from an old charm people rarely use anymore.'

Can it be linked? Harry wondered. Could the cause of my blackout have been witnessed by Draco Malfoy of all people?

'What are you thinking, Harry?' asked Remus after Harry hadn't responded to the news.

'Hmm?' Harry started. 'Oh, nothing, nothing of any importance. I was just wondering what it would be like to lose part of your memories,' he fibbed, not wanting to tell Remus of his blackout just yet. Feeling a twinge of guilt after Remus had been honest with him, Harry quickly changed the subject. 'Any idea what Voldemort is up to?'

'Frustratingly, no. Dumbledore merely mumbled something about doing his own research and then dismissed us. So, unfortunately, I have nothing more to tell you.' Remus finished.

Harry remained silent for a few moments more. 'Thank you for being honest with me, it means a lot.' The other wizard nodded in his direction. Feeling guilty, since he had not returned the favour, Harry got up from the swinging seat and excused himself to visit the loo. Remus watched him go, his feeling of finally making a connection rapidly diminishing. He felt as if they had come a long way since the morning but were oddly back where they had begun.

***

Draco sat moodily in his private quarters, glaring at the offending room. Apparently, Snape had been charged to arrange some living quarters for him for the final few days of the holidays, as the dorms were yet to undergo a thorough cleaning before the students returned for term. Obviously not used to wealth and comfort, it appeared as if Snape had found him the most hideous rooms in the castle: located on the highest dungeon level on the south facing wall, it was levels above the normal Slytherin dormitories. All aside from the South wall were blank stone; that had a central fireplace and half-windows lining the top. Anyone walking by on the outside, say, going towards the lake would be able to peer in, and depending on what Draco was doing, get an eyeful. Being the private person that he was, Draco was not impressed by this turn of events. The room was only just slightly larger than the individual rooms given to the Slytherins in the final two years of school, and like those, a small desk, chair and a wardrobe were provided. Additional features included a full-length mirror and a larger-than-single but smaller-than-double bed complete with green velvet drapes. The one feature Draco did like though, was the adjoining private bathroom, complete with shower cubicle and a sunken round bathtub.

Getting up from his perch on the bed, Draco moved to his trunk, which Professor Snape had placed at the foot of the bed. He had been released from the Infirmary after he had woken up from the dreamless sleep Madam Pomfrey had induced, much to the matron's distress. She was convinced Draco was as fragile as a butterfly, despite there being nothing wrong with him other than a rapidly healing bump on the head and a few misplaced memories, and flitted around him the whole while he gathered his stuff so that he could leave. Finally having had enough, Draco had grabbed the lifetime's supply of chocolate she was trying to force upon him and left in search of Snape. On his way to the dungeons, Draco had passed a portrait of Hesper Starkey who called out to him:

'He-llo there. My my, aren't you the adorable hunk.'

'Adorable?' Draco had scoffed. 'Adorable is for kittens and puppies, adorable I am not. Suave and handsome is what I am,' he had haughtily informed her.

She laughed. 'That you are, that you are. You must be the delectable Draco Malfoy then.'

Draco inclined his head in her direction, ever so slightly. 'I must be'

'I have heard all about you,' the woman leered as she gave him a thorough once-over.

'Really.' Draco made his question seem like cool disinterest.

'Oh yes. The other portraits couldn't stop talking about that incident with that Parkinson girl. They were all appalled at how you could treat a girl in that manner. Me? I think she deserved it and then some,' she said, grinning in an almost manic way.

Draco decided he could like this woman. 'I never caught a name.'

'Hesper Starkey. Was working on the most intriguing potion, if I may say so myself, when I bit the dust...two days before the new moon. I was not happy in the slightest, let me tell you,' she scowled in memory. 'Anyway, that's all dead and buried as they say -' she laughed at her own joke '- but I bet you're a-wonderin' why I called you over, eh?'

'Not really,' Draco drawled. 'Portraits have the oddest tendency to call me over or drool when I walk by. Can't say I blame them really, I am the delectable Draco Malfoy after all, as you so aptly put it.'

Hesper laughed, a deep, throaty, sincere sound. Draco was taken aback; he hadn't expected such a reaction. 'Well, your Royal Delectableness, welcome to your new quarters,' she said with a smile and swung inwards to reveal the room he was currently occupying.

Draco had stood dumbfounded, contradicting his earlier 'suave' remark. 'My quarters?'

'Snape, that dingleberry who thinks he knows potions, approached me to guard your door. These are your quarters for the next few days, he said.' Hesper informed him, rolling her eyes as she spoke of the potions master. 'Got a password in mind?'

'My quarters. Right.' Draco said coming out of his stunned state. 'The password, Hesper... shall be venom,' he said, saying the first word that came to mind.

'Venom? Excellent choice. Incidentally, that potion I was working on, had venom as one of the key ingre-' Hesper began. Draco ignored her and entered the room, sighing gratefully when the portrait door swung closed with Hesper on the other side. He hadn't wanted to get into a discussion about potions quite so early in the day.

So now he stood at his trunk, wondering if he should unpack. Kneeling before it, he opened the lid and winced at the state of disorganisation within. His possessions looked as if they had been thrown in hurriedly. Not being able to recall packing, Draco could only assume that he had been in great haste to get to Hogwarts, as insane as that sounded. Rooting through the trunk contents, Draco noted the presence of a few books that he had noticed his father reading. Curious to the end, he had removed them from the Malfoy family library to read late the previous week.

Father's not going to be pleased when he notices these missing.

There was one called Carmen antiquus, another was Moste Potente Potions and the third was called Duplicatum. Draco carried them, along with a few textbooks, over to his desk and made a mental note to ask Snape about the coming year's textbooks. His equipment list hadn't arrived before his hasty departure, not that it mattered, as he hadn't gotten the chance to get to Diagon Alley anyway. He continued to organise the contents of his trunk for a while but quickly became bored. Grabbing some clean clothes, Draco had a shower and freshened up, having been in the infirmary for three days straight clothed in cotton. How plebeian. The call of his hungry stomach (he could only recall consuming chocolate and a dreamless sleep potion since his arrival) was enough to entice Draco to leave his room in search of three-dimensional life.

He wandered towards the Great Hall, not exactly sure what to do or where to go. As he entered the vast room he was pleasantly surprised to see his normal spot at the Slytherin table set with a meal for one. Striding over, he sat down and tucked in. Just as Draco was finishing his most excellent meal of chicken, potatoes and vegetables the Headmaster entered the hall. Dumbledore came to stand opposite him and greeted him politely.

'Good afternoon, Draco.'

'Headmaster,' acknowledged Draco coolly.

'Draco, I have requested Professor Snape to order your school necessities by Owl. If there is anything specific you may need I suggest you tell him before he dispatches the post,' Dumbledore began. 'Now, I do realise you are no doubt a trifle concerned about your condition -'

'Don't call it that, it makes me sound like I have some sort of disease,' Draco said shuddering.

Dumbledore smiled. 'It does rather doesn't it?' he mused. 'Very well. Professor Snape has agreed to let you have this afternoon off to research matters in the library should you wish to. Tomorrow, you are to report to him promptly after breakfast, I believe he has a few tasks lined up for you.'

Draco nodded, not quite able to believe his last few days of the holiday were going to be spent working. Like a house elf. Malfoys did not lower themselves to such menial tasks! But Draco hadn't the courage to point this out to the eccentric headmaster and so sat silently.

'I hear your quarters are guarded by Hesper. She was a bright woman, an excellent potions pupil.' Dumbledore changed subjects abruptly. 'There's a lot to be learnt from her. How are you finding things?'

'The room is adequate, sir,' said Draco, surprised at himself for meaning it. After his initial disapproval he had decided he quite liked his new quarters with its own private bathroom. He personally thought the shower big enough for four with its triple showerheads was the deciding factor.

'That is good to hear. It may be wise to remain there until your memory returns, but we shall cross that bridge when the other students arrive.' responded Dumbledore and then changed the topic of conversation abruptly once more. 'Dinner is very informal in the holidays. You will find that the staff prefer to eat in the staffroom, you are more than welcome to join them. Ask Hesper for the directions if you wish.' Dumbledore turned to leave but paused at the doors. 'Good day, Draco, I hope you find what you are looking for.'

Draco watched the headmaster round the corner and walk away, his footsteps echoing heavily in the empty hallways. What an oddball, he thought, rolling his eyes. And Voldemort is *scared* of him? Draco narrowed his eyes at the thought of Voldemort. There was that nagging feeling again, as if his missing memories were somehow signalling to him that maybe Voldemort was involved somehow. Considering his Father's ties to the Dark Lord, Draco didn't doubt it much. What he couldn't work out was why he would run away over it. He had known a lot about Voldemort's schemes last year but they certainly hadn't made him run straight to Albus Dumbledore now, had they? Pursing his lips, Draco pushed his empty plate aside, downed the rest of his pumpkin juice and headed off towards the library.

***

Harry had just reached his room after excusing himself from Remus's company when he heard the front door open and Ginny call his name. He peered over the banister as she called.

'Harry! Harry, I got you that ice-cream - come quick before I drop it!' Ginny stood just inside and to the right of the front door, out of the others' way. She was holding an excessive number of bags and a rather large ice-cream cone that looked as if it might slip at any moment. Having a huge weakness for ice cream, Harry bounded down the stairs two at a time to rescue his prize.

'Mmm, chocolate chip toffee and banana!' Harry exclaimed as he delved into his snack. 'Nice one, Ginny.' He noticed the many bags that they all seemed to be carrying, not just Ginny. 'What's with the bags?'

Mrs Weasley came bustling by as he spoke. 'Really, Harry, if you wanted new clothes you could have just asked me!' she said on the way to the kitchen. 'Oh hello, Remus, dear, would you mind giving me a hand unpacking these groceries?' Remus, who had been leaning against the kitchen doorframe watching the commotion with a smile upon his face, nodded his assent and followed Mrs Weasley into the kitchen.

Harry, who had been enjoying his ice-cream cone stopped mid-lick at Mrs Weasley's words. 'Please tell me this isn't...' he trailed off, horrified at the thought. Why would anyone need such an excessive amount of clothes? Hermione took one look at his face and burst out laughing.

'Your face! Oh Lord, the look on your face,' she gurgled, Ginny chuckling along with her while Ron came to stand beside Harry and put one hand on his shoulder.

'I'm sorry mate, I told her you didn't need so much but she went mad! She was like...' Ron searched for the correct term, '...a girl!'

'I am a girl, Ron!' said Hermione between giggles. 'Anyway, no, this isn't all yours Harry...' Harry felt slightly relieved, '...just about ninety nine point nine percent of it is!'

Harry's heart sank. He surveyed the million or so bags filling the hallway. Maybe he shouldn't have asked...

'Now now, don't look so glum at the idea of a new wardrobe!' admonished Ginny. 'I'd kill for one! Come on, let's show you what we got.' Together, she and Hermione hefted a huge portion of the bags and proceeded up the stairs directly to Harry's bedroom.

Ron and Harry watched as the excited girls disappear around the corner at the top of the stairs.

'Who replaced Hermione with a giggling schoolgirl?' asked Harry, his appetite for ice cream almost, but not completely, ruined. After his talk with Remus he was determined to at least try and be happy around his friends.

Ron shrugged. 'They were getting too much for me after a while. At one point I was convinced they were going to buy you the entire 'Armani for Wizards' store! I left them to it and ran for the safety of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Rather the company of Fred and George than those batty women!' Together the two friends collected the remaining bags and began to ascend the stairs. 'Mum wasn't happy though, when she found out you had asked Hermione to buy you new clothes and not her. Not that I blame you or anything but I wasn't about to tell her that!'

'Erm yeah...' Harry began. He was too busy trying to finish his ice-cream cone before he reached their destination and his appetite was totally killed. But the cone was too large and he had only managed a quarter of it when they reached his room.

Or what used to be a room. He dropped the bags he was holding and surveyed his room in shock. Now it resembled a changing room at a large Muggle clothing store. There were clothes everywhere. On his bed, on his desk, on his chair...wait. Backtrack a moment. Was that...? No, surely it couldn't be...

Hermione had bought him leather trousers?

'Hermione!' Harry squeaked as he rushed over to his desk where the offending garment was perched. He gingerly picked up the trousers between thumb and forefinger as if contagious, his other hand still full with ice-cream cone. 'You got me leather trousers? Why!'

'HEY!' yelled Ginny. Shocked, Harry dropped the pants and turned to the red-haired girl who strode over to where he stood and collected the trousers from the floor. 'Honestly, Harry, you'll get grubby fingerprints over the leather! Do you know how hard it is to clean these?'

'Then why the hell did you get them!' Harry demanded, licking his ice cream quickly as he could, guessing what was coming next.

'Because they're a damned sight better than jeans three sizes too big!' Hermione replied. 'Now put that cone down and try these on.' She advance on him then, clutching some of her new purchases and reached for his cone.

He held it out of her reach and took one involuntary step back. 'Nu uh. Me and my cone have yet to complete our bonding session. You and Ginny do your girl thing here; Ron and I are going to the drawing room until I've finished my cone. Then I'll come and try on these blasted clothes!' Harry laid down the law. He wasn't parting with his cone for anything. Ignoring the crestfallen expressions on the two female faces he marched out of the room with Ron at his heels. Silently, they entered the first floor drawing room.

'I am so sorry mate, I didn't know she bought you leather!' Ron began. Harry paced the room while eating his cone.

'Don't worry about it, Ron, she may have bought them but that doesn't mean I'll wear them!' He wasn't really upset, he planned to hide them at the bottom of his trunk or 'forget' them here on his return to school anyway.

'But you know...' Ron trailed off.

Harry looked at his friend sharply. 'I know what?'

'Well, Malfoy's always wearing them tight leather trousers right? And you see how the girls all swoon over him, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad-'

'Ron! What are you saying? You want me to wear those freaking trousers? You're meant to be my friend!' Harry wailed dramatically.

'I am your friend, Harry, I just suggested that the trousers might be helpful to you in the long run!' Ron defended hotly. He didn't know why he was bothering, it wasn't like the girls didn't swoon over Harry anyway, but usually Harry was too oblivious to notice.

'Then why don't you wear them?' Harry demanded.

'Because mate, I already have a girl.' Smirked Ron.

'What if I don't want a girl!'

'WHAT?' Ron started. 'Harry, you're not saying you, that you're-' he spluttered.

'What?' Harry said, confused. 'Oh, no! No! I'm just saying I don't want a relationship right now!'

Ron sighed in relief. 'Thank god. You had me scared for a minute there!'

Harry smirked. 'It's okay, Ron, your virtue is quite safe with me.'

Ron thought for a moment. 'You know. I'd be okay with it if you were... you know... gay,' he said, the last word uttered in a theatrical whisper.

'Ron! I am not gay!' Harry bawled. I could so kill him right about now, he thought murderously.

'No, just severely sexually repressed,' snickered Ron.

Harry made a noise deep in his throat that made him sound like he was being strangled. Ron couldn't help but fall about laughing at the second look of horror Harry was sporting in the last half an hour.

'You want to see gay?' Harry choked out eventually once he regained control of his paralysed voice box. 'Malfoy and his damn leather trousers! Now they're gay and there is no way I'm wearing them!'

Ron managed to control his laughter long enough to say 'Sure, Harry,' and then dissolved once more. Knowing Hermione, she would not rest until Harry wore those trousers at least once in public, especially after Ron told her about Harry's current reaction.

Rolling his eyes in disgust at his supposed friend, Harry finished his cone and exited the room, only to leave the frying pan and enter the fire. Ginny and Hermione, who were waiting outside, grabbed him by either arm and proceeded to drag him bodily into his room.

'What?' Harry cried bewildered, as his motor control seem to evade him. 'Ginny! Hermione! Jeez, oh come off it, girls, leave me - OI!' Ginny had reached for the zipper of his jeans and was about to yank his jeans down but was thwarted by his belt.

'What?' she asked innocently. Harry spluttered and made to reply but was stopped by a face full of cotton as Hermione yanked his t-shirt over his head.

'Okay, that's it, TIME OUT!' Harry yelled at the same time Ron finally made it to Harry's door. He took one look at red-faced, bare-chested Harry, Hermione standing just behind him holding his t-shirt, Ginny's hands attacking the belt holding his jeans up, and once again dissolved into peals of laughter.

He wouldn't be laughing if he hadn't known what the girls were up to, mused Harry bitterly. Then he would be pissed off at me as he jumps to the wrong conclusion.

'Am I glad I am not in your place!' Ron gurgled because he did know what the girls were up to.

Harry sent him a reproachful look before glaring at the two girls. 'I am perfectly capable of undressing and dressing myself thank you very much! I said I'd try the clothes on and I meant I'd do the trying, not model as the human mannequin! So hand over what you want me to try and I'll attempt to salvage whatever dignity I have left -,' another reproachful look in Ron's direction, 'and go and change in the bathroom!'

Hermione, having the grace to look at least a little sheepish unlike Ginny who was grinning at him unabashedly, handed him a few pairs of jeans and some tops. Taking the items from her, Harry strode towards the bathroom. However, Ginny had managed to loosen his belt sufficiently enough to cause his jeans to pool around his ankles halfway there. He felt them slipping but damn the clothes in his arms! The denim fell to his feet, exposing his rubber duck-covered boxers. Crap, crap, crappity crap! There was a shocked silence in the room in which all motion ceased and then -

'Ducky boxers!' squealed Ginny and collapsed in hysterics. Hermione was not far behind and Ron, who was on the floor anyway, proceeded to laugh even harder than before. Harry flushed red, bent low to grab his jeans and hurried into his private bathroom, closing the door quickly to block out the sound of his remaining dignity being ripped to shreds. Weakly, he leaned back against the door, holding the clothes in his arms closely to his chest and wondered what he had gotten himself into. Why, oh why, did I think this was a good idea? Oh yes, horrible mis-fitting cast-offs. He cursed himself all shades of purple for choosing these particular boxers to wear today. You couldn't have worn the plain red ones or even the blue and yellow polka dots, oh no, you had to wear the ducky boxers!

He didn't know how long he stood there but he could hear Ron still laughing and Hermione and Ginny taking a break from their amusement to yell at him to hurry up from time to time. With a resigned sigh, Harry pushed away from the door and deposited the clothes in his hands on the closed laundry hamper. Selecting a pair of artistically faded jeans and the first top that came to hand - blue and paint-splattered and far far too tight for Harry's liking - he pulled them on, steeled himself and left the room.

'...What's taking him so long?' Hermione was gesturing at the others with, presumably, one of his new trainers in her hand. 'Ginny, go and knock on the do-eeep!' Hermione caught sight of him and Ron and Ginny turned to see the source of Hermione's reaction.

'Merlin,' breathed Ginny. 'Damn, Hermione, we should have done this ages ago!' Hermione looked at her co-conspirator then and they exchanged hi-fives. Harry looked on at his best friend, wondering if she was running a fever. He then turned to look at Ron who had yet to say anything. Ron was looking at him oddly, a weird glint in his eye...

'Ron?' Harry said tentatively. What's with him? 'Ron!'

'What?' Ron started out of his stupor. 'Holy crap Harry, you look-'

'Fit,' breathed Ginny. It was true; the faded denim moulded his upper thighs, rips placed down the length displaying its contents proudly, the blue stretchy t-shirt encasing his quidditch-built chest and his normally messy-looking hair now looked artfully tousled, not because he had done that, more because of the clothes he was wearing. Combined with the intensity of his naked green eyes the overall ensemble shouted sex.

'Ginny!' Harry cried. 'That's it; it's all going back. This t-shirt is too damn tight, these jeans show my legs, those leather trousers,' Harry pointed to the offending articles in Ginny's hands, 'are just gay and I don't even want to think about the rest!'

He turned to return to the bathroom but an intense silence followed by a dull thunk, signalling the shoe Hermione had been holding hitting the floor, stopped his progress. Shit. That doesn't sound good. Ginny began giggling once more and Ron exclaimed:

'Merlin's balls, Harry, we can see your boxers!'

Harry glanced around and saw a strategically placed rip meant to display the flesh where his upper thigh met buttock, but due to the enormity of Dudley's boxers, the little yellow duckies were visible instead. Oh, for heavens sake! Clamping a hand over the rip, Harry glared at the others and made to continue his journey.

Hermione however, had other plans.

Spurring herself into action, she pushed past him and picked up his discarded jeans from the bathroom floor as well as the laundry bin.

'Hermione, what are you...' Harry stopped as he realised exactly what Hermione was doing. No. Way. 'Hermione! No! I need those!'

But she ignored him and together with Ginny, she scooped up the remainder of Dudley's cast-offs from his trunk into the basket. With one last grin in Harry's direction, she dashed out of the room, bin under her arm and Ginny beside her. Ron and Harry spared each other a glance and immediately followed the girls as they made for the backyard, Harry yelling at them all the way. The boys burst onto the porch just in time to see Hermione throw a lit match into the hamper.

'Hermione!' wailed Harry. 'My clothes!'

'And good riddance too,' said Mrs Weasley as she followed them outside to see what all the commotion was about. 'Honestly, Harry, you dress worse than a street urchin on a bad day, it was high time you got yourself some new clothes!' she said as she returned to the kitchen. Hermione and Ginny laughed in their position by the hamper as they blocked Harry's attempts at stopping the fire before it burnt everything.

'Nice boxers, Harry,' drawled Remus who had also come outside with Mrs Weasley. He leant insolently against the doorframe and watched the activities with a bemused smile.

Harry coloured and stopped his struggle to clamp a hand to the rip once more. Damn blast these jeans to hell and back again! 'Yeah, well, get used to them,' muttered Harry, ''cos Hermione's gone and torched all my other pairs!'

Hermione and Ginny grinned triumphantly, as they moved to stand either side of him. Warily, he looked at them both wondering what else they had up their sleeves. A strategic retreat might be a good idea he mused better get out before things get worse! 'Er, right...I'm going inside... to see, find...' Harry stammered.

'Don't worry Harry,' Hermione began 'I got you some new underwear too!'

'WHAT?' screeched Ron and Harry in unison. Remus thought he was going to rupture his spleen from laughing so hard.

'Hermione, you said you wouldn't!' Harry wailed as he threw an unimpressed look in the werewolf's direction. Stupid women and their stupid do-all complexes.

'No I didn't. You didn't answer the question so I figured you were too embarrassed to ask and so got them for you anyway!'

'Yes that's right, I was embarrassed, exactly the reason why you shouldn't have! Hermione, you have got to start listening to what I say, not hear and do what you want anyway!' cried Harry, exasperated. Would his friend ever learn not to poke her nose into everything?

'Isn't it a good thing we got you some new ones?' Ginny began. 'At least you're not stuck with only those ducky abominations now!'

'Well I would have had more - if you guys hadn't decided to become pyromaniacs!'

'Pyromaniacs!' repeated Ron and then joined Remus in the bust-a-spleen spree. For some reason, the image of his sister and girlfriend running gleefully from one clothing article to the next, lighting them and laughing insanely as they went was the funniest thing Ron had heard in ages.

'You say that like it's a bad thing,' said Hermione, trying to hide a grin.

'It is a bad thing! Now I have no outfits left, instead I'm stuck with these...these...pieces of materials masquerading as clothes!' Harry pulled at the front of his t-shirt with his free hand. 'Why'd you buy things so tight anyway? You can see every bulge and curve!'

'And all the better for it!' grinned Ginny. 'What's the problem, why'd you hide them anyway?'

''Cos I have enough people gawking at me anyway, I don't want to seem like that vain twit Malfoy who feels the need to put everything on display!' Harry was quite worried he had noticed that.

'No one's going to think you're vain Harry,' began Ginny. ''Cos once they get a glimpse of you in that outfit -'

'- They won't be thinking at all!' finished Hermione as she and Ginny exchanged mile-wide aren't-we-clever-bunnies grins.

Harry made a noise deep in his throat. 'But I don't want to give them a glimpse of me in this outfit!'

'Oh well,' Hermione said, her voice full of mock-sympathy, 'there's nothing we can do about that now.'

Ginny smirked. 'Other than change those boxers.'

***

Draco wandered the shelves of the Restricted Section aimlessly, not looking for anything in particular. He really didn't want to research his... problem, as it would serve only to depress him further. It was bad enough that he was back at school one week earlier than planned! What had made him do something so drastic anyway?

Absently, he noted a few titles that caught his eye but otherwise did nothing more than stroll up and down the aisles. He had always wanted to see what the great Restricted Section of Hogwarts held but it all seemed rather paltry really, in comparison with the library back home. Of course, Draco smirked, most of the contents of the library back home were illegal and/or presumed lost after all.

Deciding that spending the afternoon walking up and down rows of musty books was not the most stimulating in the world, Draco skimmed the titles and pulled out a few of the more interesting-sounding tomes. Magizoology: The Dark Side. They didn't have that one back home, if Draco remembered correctly. He found another: Rules and Regulations of Creaothceann (updated version including: Why The Sport Was Banned). Draco had always wanted to play Creaothceann and Lucius had once promised to find some people to play with him on their annual trip to Scotland when Draco had been eight, but a misdemeanour, he forgot which, put paid to that idea.

It didn't take much to fall into Lucius' bad books, especially when you were an inquisitive child who thought the world of your Father. Punishments ranged from the cancellation of an activity Draco had long been looking forward to, to a severe beating and a day (or three) without food in the pseudo-dungeon that Lucius had conjured specially. Draco always wondered why he was never put in the actual dungeons, but then again, he wasn't supposed to know they existed. That had all long since changed - now Draco did his best to avoid his Father, and usually in a place as vast as the Manor, he got away with it. It was when Lucius insisted that Draco be present around him that 'accidents' happened.

Refusing to think about a few of the nastier incidences this summer, Draco carried his now large pile of books to a small circular table by a window that overlooked the impressive school grounds. Sitting down, he ignored the books to stare outside. To his right lay the lake. Ahead in the distance was the Forbidden Forest and if he craned his neck slightly, he could see the Quidditch pitch just to this left. Maybe he would go out and fly for a while later. If there was one thing in the world Draco loved to do more than anything, it was flying - whether it was just flying for the sake of it or flying while playing Quidditch. Though the Quidditch experience hadn't been all that good until the previous year, after all constantly losing to the resident Golden Boy did get tedious after a while. While some part of Draco was overjoyed at Potter's lifetime ban, another portion wasn't as pleased as now there was no challenge, no reason to play anymore. Without Potter, there would be no mid-air verbal spars, no subtle attempts to knock the other off their broom. No physical fights to get to the Snitch, no pre- and post- match taunts. This was a dance he and Potter had been participating in for three years; it just wasn't the same to do all those things with someone else.

Draco frowned at his contradictory thoughts. Why was he thinking about Potter anyway? Pushing all thoughts of the messy haired runt out of his mind, Draco pulled a book towards him, opened it at a random page and began to read.

As far back as recorded history goes, and even before then, there have been many accounts of 'foretelling'. Such Foretellers had many names, some tribes called them Seers, others called them Diviners and a third name was Prophets. But whatever the name, they did the same thing; they appeared to have some link with the future and were able to predict or warn of events to come.

Each tribe treated each 'prophecy' differently. For example, the Finn witches would scribe theirs into stone and use the tablet as the centre stone in their stone circles. The Native Indians would change the prophecy from verbal to visual form and paint the foretold events onto the walls of sacred caves. Modern day Merlin wizards capture the moment of foretelling in a glass globe and each Ministry of Magic worldwide keeps said prophecies in a highly secured area; only those the prophecy pertains to are able to lift it without suffering from madness.

However, whatever 'inner-eye' these Seers possess, it appears that some of them are able to repeat prophecies that have already been recorded, dated and labelled. The Normans would burn these 'Fake Prophets' for telling lies but then it came to be that the repetition of a prophecy was a mere fluke, not a fake. The repeats were then given the name 'Echo' as they were exactly that; an echo of a pre-existing prophecy. Often, the Echo would differ slightly in the wording but overall would mean the same thing. These Echoes are recorded in a book, scroll or stone tablet, one for each tribe and each geographic location. Modern day Echo books are usually entitled 'Duplicatum'. These books are also kept under the heavy guard of the Ministry of Magic.

On rare occasions, a prophecy per-

Draco didn't read further. Duplicatum? He was pretty sure that that was one of the books he had lifted from the Malfoy Family Library and that now resided in his quarters. To say that Lucius would not be pleased when he found it missing would be something of an understatement if it truly was the same book this particular tome was referring to. Draco glanced at the title of said tome: Oddities and Oddballs. Why had he selected this book? Shaking his head, Draco closed the book and placed it to his right. He wasn't overly worried about Duplicatum being in his possession; Hogwarts was too laid back to insist upon dorm searches and Lucius was unable to reach him at the school anyway. Draco smirked at the thought. Ha! Take *that* Father!

Selecting another book, M4: Muggle & Magical Mental Maladies, Draco opened it at the relevant page and began to read about amnesia, his heart sinking at every word.

Amnesia: Loss of memory. Memories are held in the brain in short-term and long-term stores, and either or both functions may be impaired by disease or injury. Loss of recent memory can be a feature of chronic alcoholism and also of brain diseases such as pre-senile Dementia. Head injuries that cause loss of consciousness and/or severe/ frightening accidents that do not involve the head may also be associated with amnesia. Often there is a blank in the memory for some minutes or hours before the injury (anterograde amnesia) and for a variable period after the injury (retrograde amnesia). The duration of both types of amnesia tends to diminish as the patient recovers from the injury, but often parts of the memory are never recovered.

***

In the days to follow, it was those last eight words that would haunt Draco through every waking moment.

Often parts of the memory are never recovered.

***