How Are You, Really? (Drarry)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Dementor's Kiss

            "Is something bothering you, Draco?" Harry asked, pulling Draco from his thoughts.

"Is something on your mind?" Althea echoed, looking at Draco interestedly.

Draco shook his head, then stopped. "Yes, there is. I just have something on my mind. That's all."

"Would you like to show us?" the Healer asked, pointing at the pensive.

Draco swallowed, hesitating. He wanted the memory out of his head, but he didn't know how Harry would take it. Sneaking a glance at the other man, Draco found he was giving Draco an encouraging smile. "Fine." Draco placed the memory in the pensive.

The moment they landed in the memory, Draco started shivering. The cold was seeping into him, even now, even this far away.

"Where are we?" Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Azkaban's stadium," Draco muttered, walking over to where his memory self and his mother sat in the front row. He noted he looked as miserable then as he felt now.

"Why are we here?" Harry asked, taking a seat behind the Malfoys.

"Shhh," Althea hushed. "Let Draco get his memory out."

Draco sat next to Harry. His memory self leaned forward to his mother, who was seated stonily, "Mother, why are you here? You should be at home."

"Home?" Her voice was oddly high, not her usual smooth melodic tone. "He is my husband, Draco, and will be until the day we die -," her voice broke off.

"So today, you mean?"

Draco was shocked at the audacity he had exhibited and cringed. He watched his mother withdraw as if she'd been slapped.

"Draco! Your father isn't dying today!"

"It'd be better if he was."

Narcissa reached out and slapped her son across the face, leaving an ugly handprint. Harry gasped beside Draco, but the current day Draco sat still, too tired to care. This memory had been swirling inside his head since his visit to Hagrid's the other day, and he needed it to finish playing out so he could have peace.

Before anyone past or present could say anything else, the Dementors started gliding out into the arena. Both Draco and his mother raised their wands to cast patronuses. Harry gasped again as Draco's giant dragon erupted from his wand and curled around him. By comparison, Narcissa's fox seemed boring.

"Draco, what's going -," Harry started but stopped when Lucius was carried out in chains. "Oh no," Harry moaned. Draco began to shake uncontrollably, both in the past and the present. Through a haze, he felt Harry reach out and grab his hand, squeezing it tight.

"Narcissa, Draco, I told you not to be here," Lucius called out. He was a shell of the imposing man Draco remembered from his youth, his handsomeness stripped away by months spent in a tiny cell in this horrible place.

Narcissa sat frozen to her seat, her eyes eating up her husband one last time. Draco called back, "One last time, father. This is all we have. If you'd just done the right thing, we wouldn't be here."

Lucious stared at his son. "You are not my son. You're nothing to me."

Narcissa gasped, but Draco only looked down at his hands. His past self kept his eyes firmly downturned as the Dementor lowered it's hood and kissed his father. But present-day Draco watched the light leave his father's eyes, never to return again. Both patronuses flickered out as they watched, but for very different reasons.

They were back in their little therapy room. Somewhere in his exhausted mind, Draco realized Harry was still holding his hand, giving him silent support and comfort.

"Here, both of you take some chocolate. Even memories of Dementors can mess you up." She shoved chocolate into their hands, forcing Harry to let go of Draco's. Draco felt a twinge of disappointment.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked softly.

Draco rubbed his face. "It's just been on my mind since – since -," he broke off.

"Since Blaise brought it up at Hagrid's," Harry finished for him. Draco nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it, or was showing it enough to get it off your mind?" Althea asked.

Draco thought for a long moment. "I don't want to talk about it. Showing you both was enough."

During the rest of therapy, Draco sat silently in his chair, mulling over his own feelings. His father's words still hurt him, but he'd rather be a disgrace to the Malfoy name than follow in his father's footsteps any farther. That just as easily could have been Draco getting the kiss, sitting in Azkaban for months, if it hadn't been for Harry Potter, the Golden Boy. He was the one that had ultimately convinced the Wizengramot that Draco deserved to be set free, that he had saved the trio while in Malfoy Manor.

Draco would never be able to repay Harry for saving him.

"Draco, can you stay a second so I can have a word?" Althea asked.

"Sure."

Harry glanced between them and then rose. "I'll see you later, Draco." He left the room.

"It's about your mother," Althea said without preamble. "She's not getting better. She's completely unresponsive. I think it's time we sent her to St. Mungos. I know you have the best Healers at the house, but she needs a different environment. It's my professional opinion that moving her is for the best."

Draco groaned. "The reporters are going to have a field day. But if this is what needs to happen, then let's do it."

Althea nodded once. "I'll make the arrangements." She rose, and so did Draco. "You're doing the right thing."

Draco remained silent, exiting the room quickly and heading straight to his dorm. The moment the door was closed, he was attacked by Harry, who wrapped him in a tight hug. Draco froze, stunned. Slowly he wrapped his arms around the other man. They were almost the same height, but Draco was a few inches taller. Harry rested his chin on Draco's shoulder and squeezed him tighter. Before he knew it, Draco was crying big silent tears.

"It's okay, Draco," Harry crooned, tightening his hold on the other man.

Draco sank into the comfort he'd been denied for years. No one held a Malfoy; Malfoys didn't need comforting. At least, that's why he'd been taught.

After what seemed like both hours and seconds simultaneously, Harry let go of Draco, who had calmed down.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco said, trying to put all his feelings into the simple words.

The other man seemed to understand.

"I think I'm going to lay down for a little bit."

Harry took the hint and exited the room, leaving Draco all alone.