More Than a Memory

1

Draco Malfoy stares at his past self in the Pensieve.

"Will you marry me?" Harry is smiling, down on one knee in their kitchen, eyes full of hope and excitement.

There's a long, awkward pause.

"Say yes! Say yes, you imbecile! Say anything, except—" Draco can't help screaming, even though he knows no one can hear him.

"Can I have some time to think about it?" his past self says.

Harry's face falls. "Oh."

"I'm sorry Harry, I just...I wasn't expecting..."

"I, er, yeah, of course. I'm sorry. I mean, it's been two years since you moved in, so I thought..." Harry closes the ring box and sets it on the table.

"You didn't do anything wrong, love," Draco tries to reassure him, even though internally he's panicking. "You just took me by surprise."

"Okay," Harry forces a small smile and lets Draco press a kiss to his mouth. "Listen, I'm going to go to bed early. I'm still sore from sparring with Ron this afternoon. He kicked my arse."

"Alright," Draco answers, kissing him again. "I'll clean up dinner, and then I need to check on my potion before I can come up."

"Okay. Thanks." Harry turns and walks away, head bowed.

Draco begs himself to do something. Anything. Call him back, follow him upstairs, remind him how much he loves him, repeat the words until he can't possibly doubt it, not even for a second—

But he doesn't, and Draco can't change what happened, no matter how many times he watches the memory.

He exits the Pensieve and collapses on the bed.

"Draco? Draco, wake up, it's nearly noon!"

Draco wakes, heart aching and eyes wet. He groans and rolls away from the noise and the bright sunlight as his mother yanks the curtains aside.

"No."

He pulls the covers over his head and curls onto his side.

"Draco, darling. You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Please."

The genuine concern in her voice makes him reconsider.

"Fine. Toast."

"Anything else?"

The thought of eating anything else makes his stomach lurch uncomfortably. "No."

"Not even tea?"

He considers. "Fine. Tea, too."

"Alright."

Draco hears his bedroom door open, then close, and then he's alone again.

He lets himself cry, hoarse sobs that wrack through his whole body.

What has he done? 

✦ ✦ ✦

Harry Potter is trying to forget.

The empty house, the empty half of the closet (although "half" is relative, they'd always joked that it was more like three-quarters), the empty bed, the not empty ring box stuffed in the drawer of his nightstand so that he doesn't have to look at it.

His friends keep telling him he'll be okay, that it'll get easier, that he'll get used to sleeping alone again, that he'll meet someone new.

Ginny commiserates best. She went through a horrible breakup with a teammate named Alice a year earlier, and she seems okay now, most of the time. She's dating again, and she swears she still believes she'll find love when she meets the right person.

Ron and Hermione try to be sympathetic, but they've been happily married for two years and they don't really know what it's like, this feeling. The hollowed-out place in his chest where he swears his heart has been ripped out, packed up, and shipped off to France with the man he loves. He wishes he could think it in the past tense: Loved. But he can't. He still loves him.

And he's trying to forget.

Here, in the crush of bodies, with the sweat beading on his skin, alcohol pumping through his veins, the music pounding in his ears, another man pressed up against him, spinning in his arms and grinding his arse against him, it almost feels like he can.

He lets himself put his hands on his waist, taste the skin of his neck, salty with sweat. The man turns again, wrapping his arms around the back of Harry's neck and kissing him hard.

"What's your name?" The Muggle asks, half shouting to be heard over the noise, pulling back to smile at him.

"Harry," Harry answers. "Yours?"

"Aiden."

Harry kisses him again. He doesn't want to talk.

Aiden pulls him back by the hair so that he can pant against his mouth, "Want to go back to mine, Harry?"

"Fuck yes," Harry groans.

Yes. Help me forget. I need to forget.