Author: freakingcrups

Title: Hidden Memories

Characters/Pairings: Draco/Harry.

Rating: Eventually NC-17

Warnings: Small amount of swearing and mpreg.

Summary: When Draco finds a line starting to form under his name on their family tapestry, he knows that something is off about it. He hasn't had sex in a year and he certainly hasn't impregnated someone. His only choice is to go to the Aurors, who he gives generous donations to every month, to start an investigation. What he doesn't expect is for a very pregnant Harry Potter to be put on his case as Head Auror. On top of working with Potter, there is also the strange urge to kiss the insufferable prat. Something is definitely up and Draco wants to get to the bottom of it.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Notes: I hope you all enjoy! Thanks to crazyparakiss on LJ for betaing it for me.

CHAPTER ONE

"What do you propose then, Blaise?" Draco crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his friend and business partner in expectance. "How does one impress the old fool?"

Blaise rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders languidly. "That's one thing that no one can quite get right, yet. Moran is just that, a sentimental old fool who doesn't care for business."

"And yet," Draco sneered, "I am trying to be in business with him. Why?"

"Because he's rich, Draco, powerful. With his money and influence, you could earn a fortune with the potions. You'd have a large client base."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Blaise, to get his money and influence, I need to impress him first, you imbecile. And yet, no one knows how to impress him. See what that tells me?"

"That we need to find a way to impress him quick?"

Draco groaned. Sometimes, he wondered why he hired such people, friends or not. "Exactly. Now go away." He waved his hand at Blaise impatiently. "Find out his hobbies or something."

Blaise nodded hastily and waved goodbye, before his body disappeared through the Floo.

Draco pursed his lips and pressed his fingers into his forehead, rubbing it gently to relieve a headache that was starting to build. He could already feel the tension in his back and he knew that today was just going to be another day filled with imbeciles who didn't know what they were doing.

A knock on the door reverberated around the room, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Come in," Draco sat back against the chair and smiled at his mother as she entered. "Mother."

"Draco," his mother greeted with a smile of her own as she glided towards him. "Might I have a word with you?"

"Always." Draco gestured to the chair that sat in front of his desk.

She lowered herself into it and stared at him seriously. "Draco, why did you not tell me?"

"Tell you?" He frowned as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Tell you what?"

"A child, Draco, a child."

Draco's frown deepened. He didn't know what his mother was saying. "What child?"

"You do not know?" His mother hummed questionably under her breath and it was all Draco could do to not shake his mother and ask her what the bloody hell she was going on about.

"Obviously, Mother, I do not know," He growled angrily.

"Watch your tone, young man." His mother pursed her lips. "I asked Ashy to clean the spare bedrooms today because Nixy was cleaning the kitchen."

Draco felt the urge to ask his mother why this was so important, but he bit his tongue, letting his mother continue.

"Nixy is one of our new house-elves, if you don't remember. She's worked with us for at least six months now. Quite good, quick and productive. But she doesn't know our family well enough, not when she started working, so when she first saw it, she didn't know that she had to inform us of it." His mother crossed her legs and rested her hand on her knee. Her sharp grey eyes penetrated Draco, as though she was searching for something. A truth. "Ashy saw it and came to report it immediately."

"Report what, Mother?" Draco ran his hand over the side of his face. He could feel fatigue creeping into his system, but he did well at ignoring it. After spending four fifteen hour shifts trying to perfect a new potion, he didn't expect any less. He wasn't Britain's best Potioneer for no reason, after all.

"Draco." His mother leaned forward, her hand reaching out to seek his own. She squeezed his fingers. "Who did you sleep with?"

"What?" The questions were only getting stranger with each new one. "What kind of question is that?"

"Draco...the family tapestry. A line is starting to form under your name."

"A what?" Draco snatched his hand back and frowned at her. "What do you mean a line?"

His mother's gaze searched over his face again, before she finally sighed. "It means, Draco, that someone is pregnant with your child."

"Codswallop." His mother jumped in surprise as he stood, slamming his hands on the mahogany desk. "Utter Codswallop."

"Draco!" His mother frowned at him. "Language."

"Are you really going to sit there and tell me that I knocked someone up?" He shook his head roughly. Stacking the scrolls he had been working on in his arms, he opened the cabinet with a flick of his wand and restocked them inside. He closed it again and cast a locking spell before even bothering to pay attention to his mother again.

She was angry. Narcissa Malfoy didn't show her emotions often, it was unlike a Malfoy to do so and she had a knack for restraining herself, but Draco knew her well enough to know when she was irritated. It was her forehead that gave it away: a crease had formed like it did when she frowned, except this time, she wasn't frowning. Her lip twitched, ever so slightly, and her eyes darkened, watching Draco like a wild creature poised in its attack position. So it wasn't just a simple anger, it was true, and Draco knew when to shut up and sit down.

"Mother..."

"Draco, hush," she ordered softly. Although there was gentleness in her voice, it dripped with irritation. "The tapestry does not lie. Someone is pregnant with your child."

"It can't be possible!" Draco exclaimed.

"Why? Because you used a protection spell?" She snorted. "That is not guaranteed protection, Draco. When you were made, we used the protection spell."

Draco grimaced at the thought of his mother and father shagging. He shook his head again and pressed his forehead against the heel of his palm. "Mother...I haven't had sex with anyone for a year." He made sure to mutter it quietly, because Merlin forbid, he was bloody embarrassed. It wasn't every day that he had to admit to his mother that he hadn't shagged anyone in a year.

"What? Do talk louder, Draco. Don't mumble." His mother's soft voice was cooler than before and she had relaxed, a grim smile caressing her thin lips.

Draco growled in annoyance. "I haven't bloody shagged anyone in a year."

His mother was silent. She looked unsure what to say for a moment, before she finally nodded. She smiled grimly. "Draco, the tapestry does not lie. Which means that in some way, someone is pregnant with your child. At any point, did you drink too much alcohol?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "Mother, I am not stupid. I know..." He paused. A thought occurred to him and he cursed. "Wait. There was one night, six months ago. I woke the next morning, no recollection at all of the night before except doing one strange thing. Reading all night. I don't read and I can't remember ever doing anything else except reading. However, mother, I did not drink over excessive amounts of alcohol, for that I am sure."

His mother pursed her lips in thought. "Could someone have Obliviated you?"

"I don't know." He hissed in frustration and stood from his chair, pacing behind it as he tried to remember the morning he woke up. "It's possible, but for someone to do that, they'd have to be powerful. You remember the potion Severus brewed for us, to try and stop any sort of Obliviation."

His mother nodded sombrely. She always did when she thought about Severus. His death had not been easy of any of them, especially his mother and father.

"Which means, whoever Obliviated you, Draco, is powerful and dangerous."

"What do you suppose they are trying to do?" He halted his pacing and glanced at his mother.

"I do not know." His mother stood from her seat and patted his cheek comfortingly. "Have no fear, Draco, we will sort this out. I think for now, it is best if you pay a visit to Head Auror Shacklebolt, don't you?"

Draco nodded. They needed to figure this out and as soon as possible.

"Harry, Shacklebolt wants to see you."

Harry tried not to groan. He nodded his thanks to Kristen and grasped his mug of tea that he had just set down on his desk as he heaved himself out of the chair. It was getting hard to do, being six months pregnant, and sometimes he asked himself why he was going through with this in the first place. And then the baby would kick and he was suddenly reminded of why. A family.

He rested his hand on his stomach as he waddled towards his boss' office. Even now, four months after admitting that he was indeed pregnant, he still received stares as he walked by. He was used to it, but that didn't make it any easier. These stares weren't because he was Harry Potter, they were because he was a pregnant Auror who was still working on the job. Not many people agreed with it, which he could understand. Being an Auror was his life though, and he didn't think he could give it up for a year to have a baby and look after it. He wanted to work for as long as possible before going on a break.

He knocked on the door softly and when he heard Kingsley's voice commanding him to enter, he opened the door and slipped over the threshold. He closed it behind him and turned, ready for the same lecture he had received every day after his fourth month. The one where Kingsley told him it was time he took a break from the job and concentrate on his pregnancy. However, what he saw shocked him.

Sitting in the chair in front of Kingsley's desk was Draco Malfoy, in all his snobbish glory. The git turned to smirk at him, but when he faltered at the sight of Harry, Harry couldn't help the smug look that graced his own face.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted tersely as he waddled up to Kingsley's desk and took a seat beside the blond. "Kingsley."

"Harry." Kingsley smiled softly; his concerned brown eyes scanned the length of his body.

Harry cleared his throat. "Fine," he answered promptly before Kingsley could even ask how he was feeling.

Kingsley snorted in amusement and nodded. "Harry, Mr Malfoy has come to us today with a slight problem."

Malfoy grunted. His gaze darted to Harry for a second, before he looked away quickly. Harry assumed that he was unsure what to say about a very pregnant Harry Potter sitting beside him. He wondered where Malfoy had been for the last four months, as Harry's pregnancy was all over the Daily Prophet nearly every week. It was hard to see the pictures, because it reminded Harry of just how big he was getting.

"I wouldn't call it a slight problem."

"What's happened?" Harry asked professionally. Right now, he didn't want to be anywhere near Malfoy. Actually, he wanted to be as far away from him as he could be. Just sitting beside him made his skin crawl with nerves.

"If I had known..." Malfoy swallowed. "This is ridiculous. You want Potter to work the case? Really, Shacklebolt, can he even move?"

Harry growled angrily. "Piss off, Malfoy."

"Got fat, did you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered at him, staring pointedly at Harry's stomach. "Which man had the pleasure of shagging the Great Harry Potter and knocking him up?"

"Mr Malfoy," Kingsley cut is sharply as Harry opened his mouth to retort. He raised his hand to stop any more arguments. "Harry is the best Auror we have. Your case does not require running or capturing. There is no danger in it, which is why I even considered Harry."

"Does someone want to tell me what this is about?" Harry snapped angrily. He re-adjusted his robes, trying to hide the bulge, but it did little to help that. Not that he actually thought he could hide it. He was bloody huge for being six months pregnant.

Malfoy snorted. "Potter, you know about family tapestries, yeah?"

Harry nodded, biting his tongue to stop any snide remarks.

"Well my family has one, obviously. However, we rarely check ours. It's in an old dining hall and we very rarely frequent it anymore as Mother has built another one in the Manor. Today, my mother's house-elf reported something peculiar to her. A line is starting to form under my name. A line that insinuates that someone is pregnant with my child." Malfoy rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was only then that Harry noticed how exhausted he looked. With dark rings staining the skin beneath his barely opened eyes and his slightly quivering hand, he looked on the verge of passing out.

"So, what? You knocked someone up the duff and you can't remember who?" Harry couldn't help but snicker. He shouldn't be laughing, considering...no. He wasn't going to think about that. When he thought about it, Kingsley always gave him a look, a stare that told Harry that he knew something was up. He hated that his boss was so insightful. At that moment, however, he had Malfoy glaring daggers at him and Kingsley staring at him in a disapproving manner. He tried hard to wipe the smile off his face and looked at the blond git sombrely. "Okay, what do you know, Malfoy?"

Malfoy grunted in annoyance. "Nothing." He waved his hand impatiently and stood from his chair. "Shacklebolt, might I remind you just who donates a vast amount of money to your department. Maybe you should think long and hard which imbecile you want on this case. If this is not solved hastily, you will see no more donations from my part." He glanced at Harry, his gaze wandering to his stomach, before he snorted and spun on his heel, storming out of the office. Harry cringed at the slamming of the door.

"Are you really going to let him blackmail you like that?" Harry asked. He groaned when he felt a kick to the stomach. The baby. His hand ran over his bulge softly, soothingly. He idly wondered if his baby boy knew who that git was. Did his little boy... He shook his head to push away the thoughts.

Kingsley sighed. "Usually I wouldn't, but Harry, he's right. He does donate a large sum of money and it's money we need. The Ministry can offer us only little budgets. We live off that money."

Harry snorted. "So basically, he has you under his thumb?"

"It's not like he's asking us to forget we saw him commit a crime. The Malfoys have been helpful since the end of the war and while it may be just for their public image, the money helps us keep our staff and do our jobs right. Mr Malfoy's money is the reason you're still here while being six months pregnant." Kingsley pressed his fingers into his temples, rubbing them. "We need to do this case, Harry."

"But why me, Kingsley? Malfoy and I hate each other," Harry protested. The realization of what this meant was creeping up on Harry and he really didn't like the sound of it. If Malfoy would stop at nothing but the truth, Harry was in trouble and so was his son.

"Because Harry, I can't do much else with you other than paperwork. I know you hate the paperwork and this gets you out. Interview people, find out just what Mr Malfoy remembers." Kingsley rested his elbows on his chair's arms and entwined his fingers, scrutinizing Harry with a hard stare. "This will give you something safe to do."

"But—"

"Harry!" Kingsley sighed. "We need this case sorted out. You are the best Auror I have."

Harry sighed. He knew he really didn't have a choice.

Draco poured himself a shot of Firewhiskey and gulped it down. "Ugh." He grimaced at the burn in his throat. He always did love this stuff. He poured himself another one. The sudden knock of the door made him spill some out of the glass and he hissed. What a waste.

"Come in!" He demanded with a growl.

The door opened and Draco grunted when he saw Potter waddle into the room.

"Your mother let me in," Potter explained as he gestured to the door. Draco assumed he meant the front door, so he just nodded.

"Whaddya want, Potty?" Draco asked, falling back into his seat with an 'hmph.'

"Are you drunk, Malfoy?" Potter frowned at him and slowly walked forward. He eyed the chair in front of Draco's desk.

"Sit down, Potter." Draco chuckled and downed another shot of Firewhiskey.

Potter flushed in embarrassment. He glanced down at the chair again and shook his head. "No, thanks."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Didn't anyone teach you manners, Potter?"

Potter's frown deepened. "You're drunk!"

Draco ignored the statement. "Sit down, Potter, or we can't talk."

Potter's flush returned and he shook his head. "I can't. I..." He cleared his throat. "I won't be able to get back out of it. It's too low and..." he waved at his stomach.

"Oh." Draco laughed loudly, earning himself a glare from Potter.

"Piss off, Malfoy." Potter crossed his arms and shifted from one foot to the other. Draco could see his embarrassment grow, so he stood and gestured to his own seat.

"Sit here then, it's higher and more comfortable." He stumbled a little as he walked around the desk. Draco was good at holding his liquor, but when a person has drunk as much as he had, there was bound to be some drunken behaviour.

Potter looked at him suspiciously, before he waddled over to Draco's office chair, lowering himself into it. Draco snorted again, but kept quiet as he sat in the visitor's chair.

There was silence, with Potter staring at Draco carefully and Draco staring right back at him. It was Draco who chose to break the silence.

"Who knocked you up?"

Potter grimaced. He was obviously not expecting the question. He seemed to hesitate before he answered. "Just a bloke. It was a one night stand."

Draco nodded. "You didn't know him then?"

"I..." Potter cleared his throat. "I did, yeah. But my life doesn't matter, Malfoy. Yours does. I've been told to help you find out who is pregnant with your kid."

Draco shrugged his shoulders and reached out to grab his shot glass and bottle of firewhiskey again. He poured himself a glass. "I would ask if you want one, but you know." He nodded at Potter's rounded stomach.

Potter snorted. He smirked at Draco and nodded. "Yeah, trust me, I know. No alcohol, uncomfortable sleep, weak bladder. I definitely know."

Draco cringed. "Why are you even going through with it then?" He downed the whiskey, closed his eyes and hummed at the burn in his throat.

"Why do you want to find out who's pregnant with your child?"

Draco opened his eyes to find Potter staring at him intensely. Draco knew that he was waiting for a specific answer, but he didn't know what Potter wanted to hear.

"A child, Malfoy. A child of our own."

Draco snorted. "Or an heir. I can't have Malfoys running around out there, can I?"

Potter rolled his eyes. "Yes, the world really doesn't need any more Malfoys."

Draco knew he should have retaliated with a snide remark, but all he could do was laugh at Potter's comment. "Too right. We don't want to become another pureblood family like the Weasleys."

Potter frowned at him and sighed. "You know what, Malfoy? They are a good family. They love their children and they take in others who aren't even theirs by blood. Sure, they don't have money, but money can't buy you a family that loves you."

Draco sneered. "If you say so, Potter."

Potter knew when to give up because he shook his head in exasperation. "How about we get on with this, yeah? I don't want to stay longer than I have to. Now, have you spoken with everyone you've slept with in the last however many months?"

"Six."

Potter looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"According to my mother, if you calculated the length of the line, the pregnancy would be six months along." Draco shrugged his shoulders. "And the bad news is, Potter, that I never slept with anyone around that time."

"And can the tapestry be wrong?" Potter pulled out a piece of miniature parchment from his robes as well as his wand. He flicked it, muttering a spell to maximize the size of the parchment. An ink bottle and quill was next. He flattened out the scroll of parchment and dipped his quill in the ink.

"No, it can't." Draco gritted his teeth. "A family's tapestry is never wrong."

The scratching of the tip of the quill on parchment seemed loud in the very quiet room. Or maybe it was because of the headache that Draco felt throb in his head. He watched him write, his gaze darting from Potter's hand to his face. Potter looked beautiful when he concentrated. Draco frowned at his own thoughts. That definitely was not a good sign.

"So how do you explain this? Any suspicions?" Potter didn't even look at him as he continued to write.

Draco leaned forward to have a look at what he was writing and snorted at the messy handwriting. He shouldn't have been surprised to see the small, untidy scrawl.

"No. Nothing to explain why someone would sleep with me and then run off while being pregnant with my heir. They obviously Obliviated me though." Draco fell back against the chair. "Which means they are a powerful wizard or witch. Most likely wizard."

Potter finally graced him with a glance. "What makes you say that?"

"That he's powerful or that he's a wizard?" Draco smirked. "My godfather gave me a potion before he died. It was to stop any attempts at Obliviating me or my family. He was worried about what the Death Eaters would attempt to do. And how do I know he's a wizard? Because I'm a ponce, Potter, I like arse, not fanny."

The corner of Potter's lip twitched and Draco's smirk widened, aware that Potter was trying hard not to smile at his confession. He knew that it wasn't so much his confession of being gay, rather the way he put it.

"I should have known. The way you dress is a dead giveaway," Potter snickered and went back to writing.

Draco grunted. "And the bun in the oven was the giveaway for you."

Potter's fingers paused what they were doing and he glanced up again. He looked at Draco strangely before he finally snorted. "Trust me, the bun in the oven is not the giveaway at the moment. You'd think it would be a clue, but apparently not everyone would question it."

Draco frowned. Something was telling him that Potter wasn't talking about being a ponce, but he just shrugged it off. It was most likely that the Gryffindor git was trying to confuse him, which wasn't hard at that moment. Draco felt light headed.

"Malfoy, I don't see how we can help you with this. If you have no idea who you could have shagged and if what you say is right, and you have been Oblivated, there isn't much we can do." Potter took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes impatiently. He slipped them back on his nose again.

Draco rolled his eyes. "How did you ever become an Auror, Potter?" He raised his feet and crossed his ankles, resting them on the edge of his desk. "I know a mind healer, one of the best in St Mungos. She's going to do some tests on me, see if she can get anything out of my head." He tapped his forehead for emphasis. "She says there's a chance that we can drag something out of the locked memories."

Potter's hand slipped from his writing and hit the ink bottle, causing it to fly to the floor and crash, smashing into pieces over the tiles. He looked down at the bottle in shock, before turning his gaze on Draco. "What?" He asked in surprise.

Draco glared at him. "You can bloody clean that up, Potter," he snapped angrily. He didn't even bother to try and stand though. He would most likely land on top of it with his wobbly legs. "You heard what I said. When you Obliviate someone, Potter, you don't fully rid them of their memories. You only lock them up in this little compartment in their mind. In some cases, Mind Healers have dragged the whole memory out, in others they've pulled out nothing. But Daphne says that it's worth a try. She said that maybe with the potion that Severus gave me to stop Obliviation, it would be easy to do. At the very least, we could drag out one part of the memory."

Potter shook his head. "Impossible!"

Draco frowned. Potter sounded almost desperate when he said that. "Not impossible, Potter."

"I...good then!" Potter pushed himself out of the chair, arching his back to do so, and grab his belongings. "I must be off, things to do. When are you going to see this Healer, Malfoy?"

Draco resisted the urge to tell to Potter to sit. As a surprise to even himself, he wanted the other man to stay. For once in their life, they were actually having a semi-decent conversation. However, he merely responded in a condescending tone. "Tomorrow morning. 9am."

Potter nodded hastily. "Well, I'd go to bed if I was you, I wouldn't want a hangover if I was going to let some bird probe my mind." He seemed to hesitate before he took the bottle of Firewhiskey off the desk. He pushed the cork back into the bottle and set in on one of Draco's shelves behind his chair. "You've had quite enough. Get some sleep."

Draco swore Potter sent him a small smile before he waddled out the door, but he put it down as his imagination. Potter would never smile at him, surely.

Potter was right. He did have a hangover and it hurt like a bitch. He groaned as he held his head in his hands. Damn him and his stupid choices.

"Draco? What the hell happened to you?"

Draco glanced up at the voice and smiled at Daphne. He rose from his chair and pulled his friend into a hug. "Hey to you too, Daph."

Daphne chuckled into his neck and nipped at it playfully. It had always been their thing, ever since they lost their heterosexual virginity with each other. It hadn't gone too well and now Draco was a ponce and Daphne was a lesbian. They joked that they turned each other off the opposite sex.

"So, you knocked someone up the duff, hey?" She giggled as she backed out of the hug and crossed her arms. "Wasn't that Scottish guy, right?"

Draco snorted. "He was well over a year ago. He was the last guy I shagged, or at least, what I was aware of. I'm starting to wonder if I did shag someone. Could it be that someone Polyjuiced into me or something?"

Daphne shook her head. "They could have Polyjuiced into you, yeah, but Polyjuice doesn't work when it comes to the sperm. The person's bodily fluids, like their sperm, blood, and urine, are all their own. But you should know that, big time Potioneer." She pinched him lightly on the stomach and he chuckled. Looking around the waiting room, Daphne gestured Draco to follow her. "Come on, let's go talk in my office."

Draco nodded. He followed her down a small corridor. The pastel walls were covered in portraits, many containing former Healers. Some contained former, important patients, but not many. By the time they reached Daphne's office, Draco was unsettled. He needed to know who did this and why.

He sat down in the patient chair and sighed as he watched her move around the desk with grace. She seated herself and smiled at him.

"Look at you," Draco said with a smirk. He glanced around the room.

"I'm very important to St Mungos," Daphne replied with a laugh. Pulling open one of the drawers of her desk, she pulled out a file - Draco's, most likely - and set it on her desk. "I want to ask you some questions first, okay?"

Draco nodded his confirmation. "I thought this wasn't going on the record." He pointed at the file.

Daphne shook her head. "It's not. But I do need to know your former medical history. It's just as a precaution, in the case something happens and we need to take medical action."

Draco nodded again.

"Now, let's get on with this, shall we?" She opened the file and glanced through it. Her eyes shifted from one side to the other as she read something in the brown folder. "About six months ago, was there ever a point in your life where you felt like a memory was gone?"

Draco thought about her question. While there had been that moment at the pub which he found weird, it hadn't felt like his memory of that night was gone. "No. Nothing."

Daphne nodded. "Six months ago, was there a point in your life where you did something that you didn't normally do?" She dragged a piece of parchment across her desk and dipped the tip of quill in ink. She started to write on the parchment.

Draco frowned. The time at the pub definitely classified as something he didn't usually do. The morning after that night, as weird as it was, he had merely shrugged his shoulders and went on with his usual day, as though he couldn't bring himself to think about it. Even now was hard to stay on the memory in his head. "There was something...if your memory was wiped and replaced with another, could the perpetrator make the victim not think twice about the memory replacement?"

Daphne hummed. She tapped the feather of the quill against her lips before she finally nodded. "Possible, yes. But for that to happen, we're talking about a very powerful wizard, Draco. An idiot or even an ordinary wizard cannot do that. What do you remember?"

Draco's frown deepened as he tried to remember. He fought with himself as an inner demon tried to push him to think about something else. A headache was starting to throb at his head. "I went out for a drink. And I drank some, but not much. I drank Mead."

"Mead?" Daphne's eyes widened. "You don't like Mead."

"Exactly!" Draco growled in annoyance at himself. The memory was foggy and the harder he pushed to remember it, the worse his headache grew. "And I was a reading a book. That's all I did. Drink Mead and read a book at a..." He thumped his fist against the armchair. "I can't even bloody remember where!"

Daphne dropped her quill and held up her hands. She smiled at him sadly. "Calm down, Draco. We'll figure this out, I promise."

"I'm going to kill whoever did this to me." He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, massaging the ache.

"I'm sure you will." Daphne rose from her chair and walked around to stand in front of Draco. She pulled out her wand from her robes and pressed the tip of it against Draco's head. "Just breathe."

Draco closed his eyes and let her soft voice soothe him as she whispered Latin spells. He didn't know what she was doing, but whatever it was, it caused his muscles to relax. His body slumped in the chair as fatigue overtook him.

"Draco." Daphne's voice sounded distant as he zoned in and out of his surroundings. "I need you asleep for this. So I'm going to hover your body over to the bed, okay? I'm going to try and unlock your memories. The memories will feel like a dream, but they're real, Draco. I need you to remember them for me."

He mumbled incoherent words that not even he could understand and he smiled softly when he felt his body rising into the air. He fell back into a lying position and when he finally rested on the bed, he fell into a pool of darkness.

The next time that Draco became aware of his surroundings, he was in a dark place. It was raining hard and he was shivering as a cool breeze wracked his body with force. He was so bloody cold. He gazed around the small township he was standing in and his eyes finally settled on a little bar. A bar he recognized, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Striding towards it, he entered; glad to escape the chilly air.

Inside, it was dimly lit with oil lamps and there weren't many patrons in the establishment. He did his best to ignore the dirtiness of the pub as he scuttled towards a bar stool and sat down on it. An old man stood behind the wooden bar, but he didn't pay Draco any heed. He was faceless, or at least to Draco he was, and as he tried to blink to get a better look at the face, it stayed a useless attempt. It appeared too dark for him to see the facial features of the man, but his wrinkly arms gave away his age.

"Where am I?" Draco demanded immediately, eyeing the bartender.

The old man didn't react to Draco's words; he acted as though he couldn't hear him. His body was turned forward, away from Draco, and Draco spun in his chair to see who he was looking at. In the corner booth were two men, huddled close on either side of the table as they talked lowly to one another. They seemed familiar to Draco, but he resisted the urge to stand and make his way over there, he'd see how this panned out.

One of the men raised his hand to the bartender.

"Two more Firewhiskeys for us, thanks Rupert."

Draco jolted in shock when he heard his own voice. He could make out his face now, pale and taut, but happy as he smiled at the bartender. The other man in the booth, however, stayed faceless like the bartender was.

"Coming right up, Mr Malfoy."

Draco's eyes widened and he turned to look at the bartender again. "That's Draco Malfoy?" The bartender ignored him as he flipped two glasses over the right way. "Answer me!" But once again, he was ignored.

When someone sidled up beside him, he jumped in surprise to see himself. Wow, was his face really that perfect up close? Draco shook his head and rose from the chair. "Can you hear me?" However, not even his other self answered his question. He was invisible to them.

"Like him then?" The bartender asked Draco's other self.

"Yeah." His other self smirked. "I think I'm going to get lucky tonight, Rupert."

The bartender – Rupert – chuckled in amusement. "I hope you do, Son. He seems to like you back. You dated before or something?" Rupert put down two glasses as Draco's other self pulled out some money.

"No. But not saying it can't happen in the future. He sets my stomach rolling, you know? Makes me crave him. He has fight in him and I don't ever get bored around him." The other Draco shrugged with a smirk.

"Well, don't be ruining the room when you go and shag, okay?" Rupert's words sounded suggestive.

"Can't promise anything, Rupe." Draco's other self picked up the glasses and turned to walk back to the table.

Rupe? Since when did he give a bartender a nickname? Draco frowned and took a step in front of the faceless old man. He pressed his hands to the bartop and leaned forward, squinting as he tried hard to see the face. Nothing. The old man was still faceless.

"How do I know you?" Draco asked, but this time, he didn't expect a reply. The question was more for himself anyway.

However, like he had finally heard him, the old man's head turned and a face appeared quickly. A glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips had Draco stumbling backwards.

"I'm in your head," the old man said and then Draco was thrown into darkness.