Heaven Through a Window • Drarry •

Chapter Twelve: Pansy's Palliation

"What the hell is going on?"

Draco turned around to see Pansy in a fluffy dressing gown, slippers with pom-poms and her hair in rollers. He smirked. "Good morning."

She rolled her eyes and pointed her wand at him.

"Look, I'm slightly hungover, my toddler is having a mental breakdown in the playroom, and I've left behind my domestic familial bliss to be at your side like the fantastic compatriot I am," Pansy said. Her lips were twitching, which ruined the effect somewhat. "Bloody tell me what's going on, or so help me—"

"I need you to Obliviate Potter."

Pansy lowered her wand and studied the sleeping form.

"As an Obliviator? Or as your friend?"

Draco didn't answer, jaw clenched.

"All right, then..." she said with an exaggerated sigh. "But you'll owe me."

"You're a brick, Pans."

"I know." She perched on the bed. "Is he asleep, knocked out, in a trance, or...?"

"Sleeping Draught. Strong."

"What happened? Why didn't you call the Ministry Dispatch Team?"

"I needed a touch of discretion."

"Not another one of your schemes, again..." She opened Potter's lids to peer into vacant green eyes. "He's quite fit close up, don't you think?"

"I—what?—No, not really—"

Pansy cackled. "You're so easy to wind up." She sniffed at the smoke smell, the only other evidence that something had gone wrong. "What happened here?"

"Potter opened a package full of photographs from his future, a malicious communication. Someone sent it anonymously. It's my day off, but at least I dress by eleven o'clock."

Pansy ignored the slight. "So why do you need an Obliviator?" She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not doing your dirty work. You're more than capable of a simple charm—"

"It won't be a simple Memory Charm," Draco said. "He opened the package, had some kind of magical meltdown. There was a lot of shouting, and then he had a seizure. So you'll excuse me for calling in the professionals."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "What lovely long hair he has."

"Stop ogling my patient."

"So do we need to wipe the last day? Or all his future memories, which he hasn't remembered yet, or...?"

Draco paced. "He could wake up and die. He could wake up and remember nothing ever again, transfer to the Janus Thickey Ward to rot for the rest of my career. Alternatively, it might already be too late, and he'll have lost his mind—"

"Stop panicking and just do your best. You know I hate it when you blame yourself for situations beyond your control. It wasn't your fault, it's a shitty situation all round." She tapped her wand against her chin. "Hmm, I can wipe the package from his memory, but the results might not be pretty... "

"What do you mean?"

"Memories are tied to other memories by associations." Draco nodded; he knew all this. "He's got a weird experimental-induced memory loss that behaves like no other magical disease. He'll probably lose a lot of progress. Can't be helped. He'll be exhausted, definitely."

"There'll be increased engagement with the thalamus," Draco said, "which might reflect an attempt to compensate for attentional performance during demanding conditions."