55Chapter 6: Memory Loss Revisited
Memory Loss Revisited
He was still alive. Amazing. How could that be? The Avada Kedavra curse was supposed to kill everything that it hit in just a fraction of a second; there was no known cases of survival. Except, of course, for one small boy who sixteen years ago came out of it alive with only a scar on his forehead. And here he had done it again—The Boy Who Lived.
He was still alive. Alive. Weak and slashed, sure, but alive. The scar on his forehead was bleeding, but not much. His breathing was pained and his emerald eyes shimmery with tears. Although he evidently did not possess the strength to pull himself up from the floor, he managed to raise his head and look at Draco.
A flash of pain shot through him.
"Do you know why I fell in love with you?" he asked the blond boy with a weak and bitter smile on his cracked lips.
Draco stood immobile, suddenly paralysed by fear.
What had he done? He had almost killed his lover!
And suddenly everything came back to him—their Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons in the dungeons, their first kiss, the reactions of their classmates when they announced their relationship, how Ron and Hermione became his friends, summer break at the Dursleys' and celebrating Harry's birthday, the first time they made love, Christmas Holidays at the Burrow, his becoming a Gryffindor … and his decision to return to the Manor to try to talk some sense into his father.
How on Earth could he have forgotten about all that? It was the two most precious years of his entire life—and he had forgotten about them! And that was not all that he had done … He had killed Harry's best friends intentionally, in cold blood, and now he had almost killed Harry too!
"It's because you never judged me," Harry answered his own question.
His head fell back down on the floor; the raven-haired boy was too weak to hold it up any longer. A last sigh of warm air escaped the ex-Gryffindor before his eyes closed and he became still.
Draco waited for him to move again, to open his eyes and look up at him anew, or at least for him to utter his name in the midst of a feverish, unconscious dream—but nothing. Harry stayed still on the floor, not a limb moving, not nothing. Fear rose in Draco anew, but not just fear this time, but also sorrow, pain—agony. And loss.
Acting on an impulse born out of sheer despair, he knelt beside Harry's limp body and put his forehead on the other boy's back. "No!" he yelled. "No! You can't die on me! You can't die on me, dammit! I won't let you! Do you hear me, Potter? I won't let you …"
His last words became a mere whisper as the fear and the sorrow created a huge lump in his throat. Crying, he clung to Harry, desperately clutching his shoulders, and his tears spotted the raven-haired boy's jumper.
Until then, the Death Eaters had all been quiet, watching in astonishment at this new development, but as soon as it became clear that Draco the traitor had returned from the bottom of his amnesia, they began to move in on him. "How dare you cry over that half-blood?!" Pansy was shrieking, beside herself with anger, but Draco only heard the echo of her scream inside his by sorrow twisted head.
They had made him a murderer. They had made him kill his own lover, his Harry … and they had to pay for it. Resolute and deranged by agony and loss, he stood up, his right hand tightly closed around his wand, and with a primeval cry of rage he pointed it at them all and screamed: "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
A blast of green light bigger than anything he had ever seen before shot out of the wand and hit the Death Eaters closest to him, sending them flying across the room, falling down dead like flies a good twenty feet away. The emotional chaos within him enabled him to summon all of the power that he possessed, and the curse became stronger than it should have been. At least thirty Death Eaters were killed in one go, and when almost as many remained after the last traces of smoggy greenish smoke had evaporated, Draco shouted it again, and again, and again: "AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA, YOU BASTARDS!"
He just kept shouting and shouting and shouting and shouting and shouting and shouting until there was nothing left in him to shout, until nothing remained of his voice but a faint wheezing. And only then did he lower his arm and calm down. The wand fell to the floor with a woody clinking. Shaking, he looked at the mess before him.
Sixty-seven dead Death Eaters lay scattered in the parlour, and they all had the same surprised expression on their malicious faces. Panting, he dropped to his knees beside Harry's body, too weak to stand up.
He had killed them. He had killed them all.
The eyes of his father stared at him from a distance of three yards. It had taken him some time, but at last he had succeeded to complete the task for which he had left Harry on their graduation day, but he felt no satisfaction over it. It did not matter anymore, because Harry was dead—and he had killed him.
How am I going to be able to live with myself? he thought grimly. How can I live with myself after this? I killed them all. I killed them. Harry, Hermione, Ron … I killed them all.
He looked at Harry. Still hoped that his lover would open his eyes and grant him a loving look, say his name, smile … anything. He still hoped that he would get up from the floor, not hurt after all, but he remained still.
Oh my God … he's dead. He's dead! And he will never come back to me. I killed him. He's dead …
With true affection, he lifted up Harry and carried him up the stairs, holding him close to his chest, chanting quietly to himself: "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, you know I didn't mean to, I never wanted to hurt you, I am so sorry, but everything is going to be alright now, everything will be all right, I promise I'll make everything right, somehow, it's over now, baby, there will be no more attacks, no more pain, it's over, I killed them, the Death Eaters are dead, they won't come after us again, baby, it's all over now and everything will be all right …"
Over and over again he repeated those words, speaking faster and faster for every step he took up the stairs, holding Harry ever closer. He imagined that he could feel the heat leaving Harry's body at a crazy rate, but it must have been a hallucination because no-one could go cold that quickly.
When he reached his room, he put Harry on the bed, very carefully, afraid that he might break something, and then he gently put Harry's hands over his chest to make him look more peaceful. A faint smile came to his lips. It was perfect. He had given his lover a final dignity and at last granted him some peace.
Draco bent down and kissed Harry's forehead. "I'm sorry it had to end like this, Harry," he said with new tears in the corners of his eyes, "but at least I got them. I got them all. I made them pay for what they did to us." He rose from the bed and gave his lover one last look. "Now I just have to get rid of them before anyone notices them down there. I'll be back in a short while, baby."
As if sleepwalking, he went back downstairs and began to magically remove the bodies of the dead Death Eaters. He worked quickly and efficiently, like a robot. All his feelings had been numbed the moment he carried Harry's body upstairs, because the shock of his lover's death had cast him straight into denial. He did not want to acknowledge what had just happened, because as long as he denied it, it could not hurt him. And he convinced himself that it would not be true unless he admitted it to be true.
If he pretended that it had never happened, Harry would be alive when he went back up to his room, and they would finally be reunited.
Reunited.
Forever ...
She rose with a lot of effort. Every single muscle in her body ached, but nothing seemed to be broken and she did not seem to have any other injuries. Just a few bruises, which she had got when she fell to the ground. Her right elbow was slightly scraped.
She gazed at her surroundings. They were still in that field, but they were alone. She sat up and put an elbow in Ron's side. "Hey, Ron! Wake up!" she demanded. "They're gone."
Ron moaned beside her. He was more bruised than she was, and his left arm was broken. "What happened?" he asked as he sat up beside her.
"It worked!" Hermione exclaimed satisfactorily.
"Wha' worked?"
"The potion! You know, the Protection Potion we took in case Draco would hit us with the death curse. It worked—we're still alive!"
Ron jerked and flew up to his feet. "That bastard cursed us! He nearly killed us, for bloody Christ's sake! When I get my hands on him, I'll … Hey, where's Harry?"
He only then realised that one of them was missing.
Hermione frowned. "I think Draco brought him back to the Manor," she said with conviction.
"What? Why would he do that? If he really wished to kill us, why bother to take Harry back home with him first? Did he invite him over for tea first?"
"I don't know, but I don't like it," Hermione said. She reached for her wand. "We need to get back to my apartment and get some more potion."
Ron gave her a frightened look. "You're not suggesting we go to the Manor, are you?" he pleaded.
"No. I think we need help."
"Help? Really, you think? From who, if I may ask?"
She was silent for a long while before answering. "There is only one person who knows the old Draco better than anyone else. Piper."
Draco's older sister was mighty surprised to see Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley step into her office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and since she had always found it hard to hide her feelings, her utter astonishment was plain to read on her face. "Hey! What are you guys doing here? I thought you graduated over a month ago!"
"Yes, we did," Hermione informed her authoritatively, "but we need your help."
Piper instantly returned to her usual charismatic self and fired a broad smile at them. "Oh, really? Well, in that case you have come to the right person! There is nothing I can't do with a little magic!"
"Can you turn back time?"
Once again, Piper was dumbstruck. "Turn back time? Why would you need to turn back time? I would have thought you were in your prime or something right now!"
"We are," Ron hurried to say, "but it's just that Draco—"
"Ron, wait," Hermione interrupted. "I wasn't serious when I asked if she could turn back time, it was simply a way for me to express my helplessness in this situation."
Ron blinked. "Oh. I see."
"You have a situation?" Piper inquired, confused.
"Yes," Hermione admitted. "Draco lost his memory. Or, well, your father had someone erase it, rather. When Harry found out, he decided to do everything in his power to bring the Draco that we know back, and he really tried hard—harder than anyone else would ever have the patience to try—but something went wrong and the old Draco returned. Only this time he is twice as cruel as he once used to be. He used the Avada Kedavra curse on us, but since we took some of the Protection Potion you taught us in Defence class, we came out of it with just a few bruises."
"Hello!" Ron protested angrily and indicated his broken arm.
Hermione sighed with frustration. "Okay, I came out of it with a few bruises and Ron broke his arm."
"Excuse me, I didn't break it—Draco did!"
"Whatever. So, can you help us, Piper?"
Grinning, Piper stood up. "Of course I can! Be back in a snap!"
She instantly Apparated to the Manor to go look for Draco. She figured that he must know where Harry was, even if he did not want to befriend the young Mr. Potter in his current state of mind. What she found was a mess worse than anything she could have imagined: men in black capes were scattered all over the floor, at least thirty of them! And right in the middle of all this was Draco—but he did not seem to be the least bit cruel and cold-hearted, from what she observed. He looked so small, so vulnerable, that she felt an urge to embrace him and comfort him. He was currently holding their father's left leg in both his hands, obviously on his way to discard of the body.
She took a few steps towards her baby brother. "Draco, what in the world are you doing? And what did you do to all these people? Did you kill them?"
When he spotted Piper, he let go of Lucius's leg and just stood there staring at her. His grey eyes were completely expressionless; not a single emotion was conveyed in their silvery surfaces. It scared her, because this was not the brother that she knew. Something significant had changed in him since she last saw him.
"They were evil, Piper," he said in a low, robotic voice.
She looked at the dead men anew. Noticed that several of them bore the mark of Lord Voldemort. "I can certainly see your point," she said, "but was that really a reason to go through with this slaughter?"
"Yes. I did it for Harry."
The mentioning of Harry's name made her lock gazes with him anew, and for the first time since she had arrived she detected some kind of emotion in his countenance. For a while, his voice had trembled and a dark shadow had travelled over the surfaces of his silver eyes. "What about Harry?" she asked. "Where is he? Hermione wants you to give him back."
Draco stumbled backwards a few steps. He looked as if he had been slapped in the face. "What did you say? But that's impossible—Hermione's dead. I killed her. She's …"
Piper swiftly shook her head. "No, she's very much alive. She and Ron used my Protection Potion just in case you decided to use a certain curse. And you did, didn't you? Hell, by the look of this room I'd say you've used it enough for three whole lifetimes!"
Neither of them laughed.
Draco lowered his eyes in shame. "I'm glad to hear that, but unfortunately I can't bring Harry back to them. I … I killed him."
Piper was so astonished to hear those words come out of her brother's mouth that she actually fell to the floor. "Say what?"
"I killed him. Hit him with the Avada Kedavra curse just half an hour ago. He … he was still alive when the smoke evaporated … he spoke to me … He asked me if I knew why he fell in love with me, and then I remembered everything. I had forgotten everything … I thought I was doing the right thing, thought I was acting of my own accord, but I was in fact under their spell all the time. They made me do this. They made me kill him, and they had to pay."
When Piper saw the sorrow in his eyes, she went to him and put her arms around him. "Oh, Drakie, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry … I wish you wouldn't have had to go through this."
"So do I. But Piper … is there nothing you can do to change this? To prevent this? You're the most skilled witch in the entire world—you can even give Dumbledore a run for his money! Please, Piper … if there is anything you can do, then please do it. I don't care what it is. I just want him back."
She was very reluctant to return to her office at Hogwarts with such bad news, and she felt as if a part of her died when Hermione burst out in hysterical tears. Ron did his best to soothe her. They were getting real close, those two. The only thing that kept Piper's spirits up at that moment was the belief that she could fix it.
She gave them both a knowing look, and then she said, "You still want me to turn back time?"
He was so still, but not even death could take away his natural beauty. Some parents he must have had, to give him that thick, lustrous raven hair and those sparkling green eyes, the playful smile that so often came to his cherry lips, that even baby-smooth skin … Parents who had loved him enough to save his life and only give him that scar. Funny how it now seemed to be a cheap price to pay for one's life … Not losing his parents, of course, but to be left with nothing but a lightning-shaped scar. And it was so sexy, too …
Draco sat there with him for what seemed to be an eternity, wondering at the perfection of his Harry. Everything that he could have had if the Death Eaters had not cheated him of it … Theirs would have been a perfect future, a perfect life. How could anything be less than perfect with Harry? He was ethereal, spirited … life with Harry must be Utopia.
Sighing deeply, Draco rose from the bed anew and went over to the window. Looking out over the vast Malfoy grounds, he said, "Don't worry, baby. Piper will make you well again. Somehow …"
Something stirred behind him and elicited a crisp, rustling sound.
"D … Dracums …"
Draco went rigid. A solitary tear glimmered in his left eye. Sweet disillusionment. Now he imagined hearing Harry's voice, too. Maybe he needed a long-term resort at St Mungo's when all this was over. Yeah, he would commit himself first thing in the morning. But first he needed to find the perfect spot to bury his beloved Harry. He deserved nothing but the best; the most beautiful hill, flowers, trees, live water …
Coughing. Behind him. More crisp rustling, and he recognised it as the sound of fresh sheets. The rustling. His bed. No …
"Dra … Draco … why … *cough* …"
Somehow, he found the strength in his heart to turn around and look at the bed, and when he saw Harry's wonderful, lovely emerald eyes looking back at him he cried out in bewildered joy and ran up to him, threw himself down on top of him and locked his arms around his neck. And then the most wonderful thing happened.
Harry laughed.
It was only a half-choked chuckle, vague because of his dry, raspy throat, but still enough of a laugh to make Draco guffaw with happiness and relief.
Harry put his hands on Draco's back. "Does this mean that you're finally back with me?" he asked, and his voice was merely a faint whisper, hardly audible.
But Draco heard, O, how he heard him! Those were the most wonderful words he had ever heard in his entire life! He placed a hard, wet kiss on Harry's dry cheek. "Yes, yes, yes, I'm back! I'm back, baby, and I'm never going to leave you again, never! I am so sorry, so sorry …"
"Sssch …" Harry patted his back.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand how I could do that to you, I don't … I don't understand how I could have let it go that far … I mean … I could have killed you!" And that reminded him. "How come you didn't die? How could you survive a curse that strong and powerful twice?"
He partly let go of Harry in order to lift his head and meet the raven-haired boy's gaze. The mystery in those deep, green ponds intrigued him.
Harry smiled. "It's easy, really. The first time, when Voldemort tried to curse me—oh, come on, Dracums, don't tell me that you're afraid of his name too! Anyway, my Mum protected me with her love. She sacrificed her own life to save me, and that selfless sacrifice still functions as a kind of protection for me. Not big enough to save me again, of course. This time, when I understood that you were going to curse me … Well, I realised that that would be the only way for you to regain your memory, so I let you do it. Making you remember me—ensuring the best life there is for you—was all I cared about; it was my deepest wish. So I sacrificed myself for you in order to make you remember, and evidently that had the same effect as my mother's love had sixteen years ago."
Draco gently caressed Harry's forehead, his index finger resting on the scar. "I caused you so much suffering … so much pain … and yet you sacrificed yourself for me," he whispered, utterly nonplussed. "Why?"
"Well, isn't it obvious? I love you, Draco. I want the best for you, and as long as I know that you're okay, it doesn't matter if I am."
Draco's eyes were watering again. It became difficult to see; he could only make out hazy, liquid shapes in the gloom of the bedroom. "But I … but I tried to kill you … twice … How can you do something like that for me when I tried to kill you twice?"
Harry laughed and roughed up Draco's fly-away hair. "Idiot, that doesn't matter! You were under the influence of a spell—I knew it wasn't your original self who tried to kill me. You would never do such a thing."
Draco stood up. "I love you, Harry. I don't deserve this. Hell, I don't deserve you, for crying out loud! Not when I have this!" He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and exposed the Mark. It was as strong as ever on his pale arm, and Draco hated himself for taking it.
He had allowed Harry to change him and to encourage him to join the good side—and he had stepped right back into the dark one. "I'm a Dark Wizard now, you can't change that. Neither can I. I don't deserve you, Harry. You should go to Ron and Hermione and help them realise that they are meant for each other instead, you're just wasting your time with me."
"And that comes from someone who just killed over sixty Death Eaters along with his former best friends simply to avenge little moi?"
"I went berserk, 's all. And it didn't feel good."
"See, that's a sign that you're not really dark—a dark wizard would never feel guilty about anything, and certainly not something as trivial as murder."
Harry's humorous arguments were actually making Draco feel better. "Okay, I see where you're going. You won't ever let me get away, will you? You won't ever give up on me, will you?"
"Never!" Harry emphasised. "I made a promise, didn't I?"
"Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Now, let me help you with that awful scar."
"Awful now, is it? I thought you found my scar incredibly sexy …"
"I do, but not when it's bleeding."
"Then please wash it for me," Harry demanded teasingly.
Draco went to the bathroom to collect a few tissues and some hot water.
"Remember the rules, Ron: We can't be seen by anyone else than Harry!" Hermione repeated several times as they stole through the corridors of Hogwarts, on their guard for wandering students.
Ron sighed and rolled his eyes at her. "Didn't Piper say that we mustn't be seen by anybody?" he corrected her.
"Of course she did! But how do you expect us to warn Harry if he can't see us?"
"Don't ask me—he's the one with the Invisibility Cloak."
"This is no time for jokes, Ron."
"I'm not joking. I'm dead serious."
"I hate you."
"That's not what I heard only a few hours ago …"
"Oh, shut up!"
They knew exactly where to find Harry; he was in his dorm, packing up the last of his possessions and getting ready for the graduation ceremony. For some reason, he had become utterly aware of his appearance since he started dating Draco, and on such a special day he wanted to look extra good for his boyfriend. Ron had never understood it, but he guessed he was okay with it. They also knew that no-one else had been in there with him, because when they had come to get him, he had been alone and said that he had been so for a whole hour. Therefore it was safe for them to confront him at that very time. No-one would disturb them.
"Harry!"
Harry jumped and turned around to face them. He had been bent over his trunk, examining something with an absent-minded look on his face. Now he hastily put it back in the trunk. "Er, hi," he said quite nervously, "what are you doing here? I thought you were going to help Ginny …"
"We are," Hermione said before she could stop herself. "Or, rather, we were. Anyway, there is something that we need to discuss with you …"
Harry frowned. "Discuss? On graduation day?"
"Yes. It's about Draco."
A shadow passed over Harry's face the instant she mentioned his lover. Concern coloured his face a dull grey. "What about him? Did something happen?"
"No, no, no," Ron was quick to protest, "not yet, anyway …"
The frown on Harry's forehead deepened into a scowl.
"What Ron is trying to say is … we're from the future." Oh, could it have come out more wrong?
Harry stared at them for several seconds, then he started to laugh. "From the future? Yeah, right. Funny, that one. Almost got me there."
"But it's no joke, Harry!" Hermione objected desperately. "We really are from the future! Remember the Time Turner that McGonagall gave me? Well, something happened in the future that made me wish that I hadn't returned it, and … I probably shouldn't tell you this because it's never good to know too much about one's own future, but since it's for your own survival …"
"Hermione, I really don't understand a word you're saying. What's this urgent thing that makes you say all these incredible things? And what does it have to do with Draco?"
"You can't let Draco go to the Manor all by himself, Harry, the Death Eaters will be there waiting for him and you do not want to see the consequences of that, believe me! Please, Harry, it is crucial that you do as I say. You have to stop him—don't let him go."
When she had finished her plea, Harry stared at them as if they were both insane. Then he slowly shook his head. "You guys sure are something. Now would you excuse me, I have loads to pack before we leave on the Hogwarts Express."
Amazed at this, neither of them reacted to Harry's shoving them out of the room to have some privacy while packing his paraphernalia. When they finally snapped out of their paralysis, it was too late to stop him. "Can you believe it?" Ron said exasperatedly.
"Actually … I can," Hermione surprised him by saying. "Do you remember what he said when we went up there to get him on the real graduation day?"
"No, not really …"
"He said: 'Why did you change your clothes?' And later, he said, 'Some jokes you pull nowadays, Ron. Just surprises me that you got Hermione in on it this time.' Neither of us understood what he meant back then, but now I understand it perfectly well. This mission was doomed to fail from the start—we were never meant to stop Draco from going. All those times when I used the Time Turner in our third year … everything that I did the second time, so to speak, happened even the first time. Do you understand what I'm saying, Ron?"
"Er … no."
"When Harry and I used the Time Turner to save Sirius from the Dementors, and Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf, did you by any chance hear another werewolf cry that night?"
"Yeah, but what does that have to—"
"That was me imitating a werewolf. Yes, I know, I was standing right there next to you, and Harry was too, so I couldn't possibly have imitated a werewolf. But at the same time, Harry and I was in another part of the forest, you know, after using the Time Turner, and I cried to Lupin to prevent him from attacking you. That's why he ran off like that; he came after us instead. Do you see now, Ron? Even though we hadn't gone back in time yet when Lupin turned into a werewolf there still was a cry from another 'werewolf' that beckoned him away from us—the cry that I made after going back in time. That's the mystery of things. If we had succeeded to warn Harry properly tonight, Draco never would have gone to the Manor, and none of that would have happened. We haven't changed anything."
"I actually think I understand … and I know what I have to do, too."
Hermione knitted her eyebrows. "Ron, why are you looking like that?" she asked suspiciously.
Ron clenched his hands. "I have to kill Malfoy."
Hermione gasped. "What? Are you out of your mind?!"
"He killed Harry, didn't he? Well, then it's only fair that I kill him, right? The world will be better off once we've rid it of that monster. He'll just keep on killing anyone who's not a wealthy pure-blood."
Hermione sighed. "I guess you're right. But only if it's in self-defence—I don't want you to get us arrested by the Ministry."
"Oh, so you're going with me, then?"
"Of course I am! Someone needs to make sure that you don't dismember yourself on the way."
Draco carefully washed Harry's wounds and tended to the bleeding scar, and when all that was done, he sat down on the bed and gently put Harry's head in his lap. Tenderly, lovingly he stroked Harry's hair, their gazes locked. No words needed to be spoken, because they both understood perfectly what the other wished to say.
The bond between them had been re-established as if it had never been severed in the first place, and it was wonderful to just be sitting there, doing nothing, just being together again …
A shriek interrupted their silent adoration. When Draco looked up, he expected to find Hermione standing there, but the person in the doorway was in fact Ron. That was actually kind of amusing, because he screamed like a girl. "Hey there," Harry said without getting up from the bed. "You're looking well for someone who died three hours ago."
The shock of seeing them together had rendered Ron both speechless and motionless. It did not take long before Hermione appeared next to him, though, she too very much alive. "Eeeek! What are you doing?" she yelled.
"What does it look like?" Harry asked, feigning astonishment when actually he was laughing on the inside. Draco could hear his silent amusement as if he had actually laughed out loud. "We're getting re-acquainted with one another."
"But, but you … he killed you … Piper told us …"
Harry shook his head.
"I thought he was dead," Draco admitted silently and shamefully. "I mean, it was the Avada Kedavra curse, after all … but he wasn't. He came back to me."
"It was just like with my mother," Harry explained to his friends. "I sacrificed myself for Draco, and somehow that prevented the curse from finishing me. I got injured, of course, but it could've been a lot worse. The only thing that's changed is my scar's got an extra zag to the zig."
They looked closer at him. "Yeah, you're right," Ron said, "it is bigger."
"But what about the Death Eaters?" Hermione prodded.
"Draco killed them," Harry said proudly. "When he thought I was dead, he went berserk because he wanted to avenge me. Killed sixty-seven of 'em all on his own, including Lucius Malfoy himself. I think he's made up for taking the Mark now."
"Yes, indeed you have, little brother," Piper said, suddenly stepping out of the shadows in one of the corners of Draco's room. "And I'm here to take it off your hands—or, rather, your arm."
Draco looked at her in surprise. "You can do that?"
"Of course I can! There is nothing I can't do with a little magic! I've even created a little spell for this special occasion: 'From the source of malice, erase what has been dark, return to the Dark Lord's palace, this un-wished-for Mark.'" With those words uttered, Piper waved her wand and the Mark on Draco's arm magically disappeared.
They all stared at it in disbelief.
Piper applauded herself. "Well, I guess that's our cue! Come on, Wonnie-Lonnie and Minie-Hiny, let's scram and leave these two lovebirds to get 're-acquainted.'"
She swooped them away in a cloud of purple smoke—anything for the dramatic effect of it all.
Once they had left, Draco turned to Harry. Smiling broadly, he put his lips to Harry's. "How about we try out this bed? Never used it together before …"
Harry returned the kiss. "Sounds like a brilliant idea, Drakie-poops."