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Lazy Crazy Baby
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I fell off my broom during a Quidditch match in early December; I hit my head and lost part of my memory.

The plump woman, Poppy, allowed me to go home. She said that there wasn't anything else she could do besides healing my physical injuries and that my memories should eventually return to me. I asked her why she couldn't just wave her wand and restore them as she did with my broken bones.

She replied, sternly, that a mind was a delicate thing and, since it was only a partial memory loss, she recommended that I wait at least a week before she used magic.

I remembered that my name is Harry Potter, that I am the famous Boy Who Lived. I had friends named Ron and Hermione; the names matched with their faces when they picked me up. Poppy objected to the idea of traveling by Floo Powder or flying; I was glad for her opposition, I wasn't sure if I remembered how to fly.

Ron and Hermione filled me in on major events in my life during our walk to my flat. I had been a hero since birth and had continued to be a hero throughout my school years; I had killed Voldemort at the height of his power in my seventh year. I had become a professional Quidditch player after graduation and was now living with someone.

They wouldn't tell me whom I lived with though, or the relationship I had with said person. Hermione set her mouth in a line when I asked her who the person was and Ron fidgeted uncomfortably and kicked the ground.

I decided not to push the issue, since I would find out sooner or later, right?

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Ron and Hermione declined my invitation to come inside when we reached my flat; I sensed that they wanted to be absent when I saw my roommate, but I couldn't figure out why. I didn't feel like pursuing the reason, so I just shrugged and said that I would talk to them later. They left at an almost offensive speed.

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As I walked through the door, I felt a pang of anxiety and I couldn't understand why. I wasn't expecting anyone, was I?

"I'm surprised that Pomfrey let you out this soon." A voice, sounding familiar and strange at the same time, came from the foyer.

The man standing in front of me was stunning. Light blonde hair that resembled white gold strands, gray eyes that focused immediately on my face, the high cheekbones and thin lips that looked so soft and kissable.

A name entered my head. Malfoy.

"What's wrong? Harry?"

I kept my mouth closed. I still wasn't sure who he was but for some inexplicable reasons, I didn't want to tell him that I didn't remember him.

"Harry?" He frowned and I had the oddest urge to kiss it away.

"Umm.." I started. "You are Malfoy, right?"

"Very funny. Is this some kind of a joke?" His eyes narrowed dubiously.

"No, I lost part of my memory." As soon as those words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back. The look on his face spelled one word - devastation. The gray eyes dimmed, as if a layer of frost had been draped over them. If I had known my answer would yield such results, I wouldn't have said anything.

He tightened his hands into fists and pressed them to his sides. I thought he was trying to stop himself from hitting something. Oddly enough, I knew he would rather hurt himself than me.

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He later told me his name was Draco Malfoy and I was glad that I had gotten part of his name correct. My relief was short-lived when he informed me, in a strained voice, that I usually called him by his first name - Draco.

He also told me that I should spend the winter vacation with him because, without me by his side, he'd know nothing but darkness.

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In my flat, a small black cat was eating out of Draco's hand while he was squatting on the floor. Funny, he didn't strike me as a cat person.

"Do you think we should continue our." I searched my mind for a more appropriate word, but couldn't find any. "Relationship?"

His eyes remained on the cat and only after the animal had mewled in contentment, Draco glanced up at me as he stood up.

"I'll be back tomorrow." He walked out the door after giving me a brief nod.

After Draco left, I started to panic.

We were apparently lovers and I did find him attractive, but something was out of place. What was I doing? Thoughts of Draco filled my head and that same feeling of anxiety returned with a vengeance.

I needed to stop thinking about Draco; thoughts of him made me uncomfortable.

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We began a routine. Draco would stop by in the morning and I would have breakfast ready for him on the table. He would leave then come back at five in the evening and make me dinner. He said I should spend my day with my friends and visit places around the city so maybe a familiar anecdote or sighting would jog my memory.

I had lunch with Hermione and Ron every day. They told me bits and pieces of my past, about my likes and dislikes, and my relationship with Draco. According to Hermione, I couldn't boil water, so she was thoroughly amazed that I cooked breakfast every morning. She was astonished when I told her that I made scrambled eggs for Draco - apparently Draco hated eggs. Funny, he never said a word and always cleaned his plate.

It was strange how easily his name rolled off my tongue.

After the second day, Draco never again asked me if I recalled anything. I guessed he was afraid and didn't want to get his hopes up.

When my memories didn't return after a week, Madam Pomfrey performed a spell. It failed. She sadly announced that I might have lost my memories forever. I didn't feel the rage I thought I'd feel, I just patted her shoulder and told her it would all work out in the end. I had thought Draco would stop coming by, but he didn't.

Something about Draco didn't add up. From what I heard from Ron and Hermione, Draco was cold, ruthless and arrogant. Yet when he was with me, he appeared to be a completely different person. He was thoughtful in his own ways and so vulnerable whenever he thought I wasn't looking at him. He seemed almost.submissive and afraid that I would abandon him.

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I constantly thought about Draco and me, our past and the feelings we once shared. When I couldn't remember anything, I got frustrated and angry. Angry with myself for not remembering him, and angry with Draco for constantly reminding me of my forgotten past Why won't he just leave me alone?

We didn't touch more than necessary. His fingers would sometimes linger on mine when he passed me the plate during dinner, but that was the extent of our physical contact.

'Why won't he touch me?'

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Christmas arrived and Draco prepared a nice dinner with foods that were my favorites. Afterward, we shared a bottle of wine while sitting by the fireplace.

I didn't know what possessed me to circle my arms around him and to lean in to bite him lightly on the neck.

He stiffened then pushed me away.

I couldn't understand what he was thinking. He wanted to continue our relationship but he refused to have any sort of physical intimacy with me. We never kissed or even hugged!

What the hell was he doing? What the hell was I doing? Was he screwing with my head? I needed to find some ways to drown out all the questions in my mind. But I couldn't.

Why won't he let me touch him? Did my touch disgust him because I wasn't the Harry he fell for? I cringed at that thought but it continued to haunt my mind until Draco placed a concerned hand on my arm.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing," I flinched at his warmth. Why did he look at me with that hurt look in his eyes? Why did my heart ache as if his pain were my pain? "Does my touch disgust you?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

"No!" Draco looked shocked.

Shocked because he never contemplated that thought? Or shocked because I voiced the thought in his head? Either way, the pain wasn't going away. "Prove it to me then. Prove that you don't hate my touch!"

I didn't bother to wait for a reaction. I ripped open Draco's shirt and pulled it halfway down his arms, successfully binding his upper body. I settled my weight on his waist and nudged his legs open with my knees.

I wanted to make him suffer that night. I wanted to see him cringe in pain and howl when I drove into him without any preparation. I wanted him to feel the pain I had been feeling in tenfold.

If he didn't want my touch, why did he act like he cared? He knew I wasn't the person he fell in love with. He knew I probably would never be that person. Then why did he come by every day? To torture me with the heavy guilt that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in my stomach?

I drove into him with all the force I could muster and the anger within me. I wanted him to accept my touch - mine, not the other Harry's.

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I had no idea when my feelings for Draco took a violent route. All I knew was that I couldn't take the silent expectation from him any longer, the quiet hoping that I might wake up one day and revert back to the Harry before the accident.

I knew that he knew it would never happen and I hated that glint of disappointment in his eyes. I also hated the unreasonable guilt I felt in my gut. I did not cause this.

On some days, I was almost certain that he came to my flat for one reason - to hurt me for things I hadn't done. He blamed me for losing the other Harry.

But how dare he try to blame me? How dare he look hurt when he caused me pain every day? How dare he keep on coming back to my flat when he definitely knew that his presence distressed me? How dare he?

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When I entered the room, I saw Draco sitting on the couch, playing with the cat.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his tie was discarded on the floor along with his loafers. He seemed fragile and breakable, like a porcelain doll that must be treated with care. I wanted to shatter him.

"Hey," I said.

He didn't reply, his eyes focused on my face, searching, expecting.

I couldn't understand the emotions in his eyes; there were so many of them.

"Want to fuck?" I asked casually as I strolled to the bedroom, knowing he would follow. I stole a glance at him in the mirror while I undressed. His eyes hadn't changed. Draco had flinched the first time I posed the question after that it had no effects on him as if he had become immune. Like one would be with smallpox.

I had to do something to remove all the tangled emotions from his eyes. Inflicting pain was the easiest course. When he hurt, his expression only consisted of suffering, so simple. I got a rush of power whenever I plunged into him; I dominated him.

We never talked during sex; it was pointless. We only used one position, Draco on his knees with his forehead against the mattress and me entering him from behind. I never prepared him.

Sex with me was always bloody and painful, but Draco had never refused.

Once I asked him if he hated me.

He mumbled something under his breath, it had sounded like "I can't."

Why couldn't he hate me? I would probably never understand him.

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The snow-covered trees outside my window were the sight which greeted me when I woke up. I took a shower to wash off the semen and blood; they were Draco's. I didn't want his scent clinging to my skin.

He sat at the dining table, with a glass of water in his hands.

His eyes followed me as I went through the cabinets, looking for some bread. He had that damn expectant look again; I could feel it in my back.

"Stop staring at me!" I yelled as I slammed the cabinet shut, breakfast forgotten.

He obeyed, lowering his gaze to the glass.

His submissiveness pissed me off. I pulled the glass out of his grip and threw it at his head.

Draco dodged and the glass shattered against the wall. A few small pieces ricocheted off the wall and nicked his face, marring his pale complexion. Blood oozed from the cut, but he didn't cringe or make a sound to acknowledge the wound. He continued to stare at me, but the hope turned to surprise.

I turned my head to avoid his gaze.

I heard him getting out of the chair to pick up the broken glass and heard him gasp. I looked over my shoulders. His once long, elegant fingers were covered in blood. The crimson was slowly eating away at the smooth, marble- like flesh.

"Stop." My voice sounded strained.

For once, he didn't listen to me. Draco picked up another piece and allowed it to slice open his skin.

Something snapped within me. I hurried over and stomped my foot on his moving, blood-covered hand. I ground my heel to make the glass dig into his skin. "Stop!"

When his eyes met mine, I was shocked to discover tears in his eyes but the astonishment was gone. He was studying me, examining me and probing for the motive of my actions.

I couldn't take his searching eyes any longer; I felt as if I might go insane. I ran to the door, grabbed my jacket and headed out, ignoring the fact that it had started snowing again.

Frozen flakes flew against my face, getting caught in my hair and skin. The chill was warm compared to my frozen despair.

Draco's voice came from behind me, he must have come after me as soon as I stepped out the door.

"Harry!"

I stopped and turned to face him, anger bubbling inside of me when I saw that he hadn't put on a coat. How was his frail body going to survive in this weather without any protection? What was that ache in my chest?

I must have gripped my chest unconsciously, because Draco rushed over and was beside me within seconds with his arms around me.

"Are you alright?" Concern radiated in his words.

"Don't touch me!" I flung his arm off and watched in sickly satisfaction when he tumbled backward and fell into the snow. I walked over to his still form in the snow. The blood from his hands was splattered on the white ground. I was so angry. I started kicking him. Why wouldn't he leave me alone? Why did he have to follow me out here? Why couldn't he have enough common sense to take care of himself?

I aimed for the small of his back. "Stop following me! Stop coming over! Stop looking at me with your damn eyes! Stop thinking that I'll remember you! Just stop it!"

He groaned and rolled over on his back.

I continued my assault. "Why do you want to be with me? I don't even like you! I hate you! I hate you! I don't want to be in a relationship with you! I hate you!" I coughed as I finished shouting, my throat raw like someone had just grated it with sandpaper.

Draco struggled to get up and I didn't bother helping him. He took a while, but he was on his feet, shivering and his teeth were clattering. His sweater wasn't warm enough to begin with and it was soaked from the snow. His nose and lips were red and gray eyes stood out against the paleness of his face.

I didn't know what that strange feeling surging from my heart was; all I knew was the longer I spent with Draco, the stronger it got. The emotion threatened to tear me apart. I couldn't face him anymore; I couldn't look into his hopeful eyes because I knew it would crumble my mind and my world.

"Harry?" He sounded too timid.

"I don't know why I always think about you." I closed my eyes. Maybe it would be easier to let him know how much he irritated me if I didn't have to look at him. "I think about you every second, trying to remember our past, but I can't. You make me uncomfortable and feel guilty about something I wasn't responsible for." I inhale deeply, letting the cold air into my lungs. "You screwed up my life. I can't do anything without thinking about you. I hate it."

"I...I don't understand."

An invisible string pulled at my heart when I heard how lost he sounded.

"But..." Draco's words were almost smothered by the wind. "Does it mean I can't see you again?"

The string tightened and was squeezing, splitting my heart in half. I opened my eyes and saw a trail of frozen tear on his cheek.

He was covered in snow, as if he could blend with it and disappear forever.

A sob croaked out of my throat, I didn't have to touch my face to know I was crying. I could feel the tears freezing and burning my skin.

"Tell me what I should do so I can be in your life," Draco whispered, his voice quivering.

Oh god, how weak he sounded! He looked like death.

Something within me shattered at that thought. Draco, dead, those two words brought an unpleasant taste to my mouth.

That moment, I didn't care about the guilt in my gut or the anxiety in my chest. All I cared about was making sure Draco stayed in my embrace and in my life. When had he become such an important part in my life?

I pulled him into my arms and rubbed my hands up and down his back, mindful of the bruises forming there, trying to warm him up.

I didn't care about the fact that Draco might be in love with a figure from the past, as long as he was with me. I wasn't going to ask for his love anymore, his presence would be enough. It would have to be.

"Oh god," I gasped quietly. I suddenly knew the word for all the emotions jarring inside of me; it was love.

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I knew trying to build a new relationship after all we'd been through would be tough, but I couldn't ignore the true feeling in my heart any longer. I loved him and was incapable of leaving him because, without him by my side, I'd know nothing but darkness.

~ END ~