An Eventful Quidditch Match (HP) (Drarry) (COMPLETED)

chapter eight

"Do you ever think of kissing boys?"

Harry pushed himself up to a sitting position. They were both relaxing in the infirmary, where they had been sleeping. Though Harry was officially released, Harry still needed an escort around the school; so they convinced Madame Pompfrey to let them stay there together. Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy's question. "I have for years," was his simple answer.

"Really?" Before, Draco had asked the question with an air of casualness, but now that was all but dropped. He was intrigued.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged, and his short reply infuriated Draco.

"Wait," Draco's eyes widened at he out two and two together, "Wait a damn minute."

"What, Draco?"

"Nothing," Draco lied. 

If Harry can only remember me, Draco thought, And Harry can remember wanting to kiss boys in the past... that means-

He stared intently at Harry. Harry thought about kissing me before.

Harry looked confusedly at Draco's flustered look, but didn't say anything. Instead, he settled himself back down, propping the book of first year potions onto his chest and continuing where he had left off.

Draco wanted to return to his work, too, but simply couldn't find it in himself to focus. His mind was occupied with thoughts of the green eyed, raven haired boy in the bed aside his. He chewed on the inside of his mouth, unsure how to feel. On one hand; part of him very intensly returned those thoughts but on the other; he was Draco Malfoy for Christ's sake, he couldn't be infatuated with Harry Potter, his arch nemesis!

And yet he was. And they weren't rivals, not anymore.

"I've been getting those dreams again," Harry admitted out of the blue.

"Which ones?"

"Pristina and Armistice."

"Ah, those ones."

"Do you think they mean anything?"

Draco shrugged. "Probably not. You haven't had any dreams about your life before the sweep, so I doubt it's anything other than randomness your subconscious made up."

Harry bit his lip. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Why so?"

"You know the...." Harry searched for the name, "Lovegood! You know the Lovegood girl? With the Quizbits and Wrak-whatever-the-fucks?"

Draco nodded.

"Well, I told her about my dream. She said the Quizbits said it was important, but they refused to say anything else. But Luna said it seemed like the Quizbits knew more, but didn't say. Like, they were lying through omission or something," Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Do you think she's- well, the Quizbits, are right? That it's important?"

Draco shook his head. "Luna's a bit weird, Harry. It's not like anyone else has seen these aforementioned Quizbits, after all. She sounds delusional, if you ask me."

"I think that's quite rude," Harry snapped, then sighed, "But you're likely right. They're just dreams. Can't be that important, after all."

That night, he did not sleep soundly.

"Hello, Harry." Dream Harry (Drarry) turns toward the voice. He recognizes her. The tall girl from his reaccuring nightmares. "Good, you're here."

"Please don't do this to me again," Harry croaked. Everytime he saw her, the dream played out the exact same way. But Harry noticed something different about this one, not that he could out his finger on it.

They were sitting accross from each other at a small table, each with a platter of tea in front of them. This hadn't happened in the dream before, Harry thought. That's unsettling. And Harry hadn't been able to realize he was in a dream before. That's new, too.

Pristina sipped her tea. "I would like to apologise for our previous meetings," she said at last. "I didn't have complete control of my form before, and I was manifested in a vicious way. My apologies."

"Forgiven," Harry said with hesitance. "What do you mean by 'form'? This is just a dream."

"To you, maybe. But, Harry, much greater forces are at play here," Pristina sighed. "It's a lot to explain, so I best be getting to it huh?"

"Yeah," he said. "Let's."

"I created the spell that erased your memories. The moment you were cursed was the exact moment I died. Since it was such spectacular timing, my soul combined with the spell's. I'm taking particular residence in your body until the spell is undone, I suppose."

She paused to sip her tea and Harry tried to disgest this information. "So you're real? Not just a dream?"

"Yes, Harry, and I'm here to help you," Pristina looked around the room, which was quickly fading. "We don't have long, the dream will be ending soon, but we will talk again soon, Harry. Before I go, I mustn't let you get your hopes up. I can't tell you how to break the curse. Those secrets are held by the Secret Keepers, called Quillbits or something. Only they can tell you and they lie by ommision. But I can tell you something else; I know who cursed you. He helped me create the spell. Jackson Smith, though he doesn't go by that anymore. But you do know him, Harry. Remember that."

And with that, the dream faded.

∆¶∆

Hermione shakes Ron's arm. "Honestly, Ronald, are you even paying attention?"

"Not in the slightest," he admitted, setting down his fork.

Hermione sighed and released his arm. "I was talking about who cursed Harry."

"Is the list done yet?"

"Not yet, but I'm talking about other possibilities, outside the list," Hermione shifts closer to him and drops her voice to a whisper, "I'm considering your sister a suspect."

Ron's eyes almost buldged out of his head. "Ginny? You can't seriously be considering Ginny, of all people!"

Hermione put her hand over his mouth. "Keep your voice down!" she hissed. "And yes, I am."

"But it doesn't make any sense. If it was Ginny, then wouldn't she make it so he could only remember her, not Malfoy? She doesn't gain anything!"

"It's a stretch, but I have a theory," Hermione took a sip from her goblet. "Maybe she was trying to prove to herself that Harry would like her, no matter what. Even if he didn't remember her. And Ginny was hysterical when she knew Harry could remember Malfoy, right? And we assumed that it was a rational reaction because she was in love with him. But what if she was just overreacting intentionally? So we would believe that she was innocent?"

Ron shook his head. "You were right about one thing; it's a stretch, 'Mione."

"Just something to keep in mind."