Obliviated [Drarry]✔️

Malfoy

"So,"Harry sighed, ignoring the very soft and firm hand on top of his rough ones,"did that...help in anyway? Any recollection of memories?"

Draco casually took his hand back, and nodded."A bit, actually. It's like flashbacks, and the emotions that I felt in them...I can feel them."

He didn't add that those emotions all happened to be mixed in a large bowl of tremendous fear, hopelessness, anxiety, anger, and sadness. He didn't have a lot of good memories to go by, he realized.

Every good flash of a memory he had gotten back though, seemed to have also been tightly connected to some sort of negativity too.

Like the time he got into the Quidditch team. While he did in fact have the ability to perceive as a good seeker, the tiny little detail that his apparent father had bought the Slytherin team new brooms also contributed to how he got in the team too.

Without thinking, he let out a frustrated yell, startling Harry."Why can't I remember any true good memory?"

Those emerald orbs studied him, searching Draco's face for some kind of answer, because Draco sure as hell didn't have one.

"I'm sure there's something, Draco. I know there is. Everyone's got something, no matter what you've been through or what you've seen. Trust me."

Draco sighed."Maybe,"he cleared his throat and straightened his back,"well, shouldn't we make a visit at Malfoy Manor? I suppose the faster we get my memories, the faster you get rid of me."

"R-Right,"Harry looked at Draco, setting aside his tea,"look Draco don't assume I'm annoyed by this. I really don't mind, I do want to help you get your memories back."

Plus it's the least I could do after all I've done towards you.

"Of course, thank you,"Draco stood up, placing his cup in the sink."I'm going to go freshen up-"

Suddenly he realized that he literally had no clothes with him except for what he was already wearing.

He also realized he didn't have a comb.

"Wait wait wait, please tell me you own a comb or a brush? Anything for my hair?" He looked at Harry desperately noticing just how messy and unruly his hair was, and realized that this man has probably never touched a hair product in his life. His hands slowly ran over his own messy, white blonde, soft hair.

Harry smiled guiltily."Sorry, I don't."

"POTTER!"

~~~~

Malfoy Manor looked as solemn on the inside as it did on the outside.

Harry remembered last he came here. When Draco had to identify Harry, and though Harry knew Draco was able to tell it was him, he didn't sell him out. That always stumped Harry, because he just couldn't understand why.

Now they both stood in one of the sitting rooms. Draco next to him, wearing Harry's clothes. (Which surprisingly fit, except maybe the trousers, Draco was a bit taller than Harry). His hair also washed and combed. (He transfigured a fork into a rather metallic comb, because 'Potter I can't go out looking like this. I'm not presentable!')

"So, any idea where a pensieve would be around here?" Harry asked, studying the large velvet black couch next to him.

Draco bit his lip."Not much of an idea, no. I've gotten flashes and bits of memories, but not a full one."