Third Place - Drama

(Wednesday night)

He�s so bloody small.

No.

Small implies lack of growth, lack of stature. He hasn�t either. He�s tall enough. He�s muscled enough. But lying there so pale against those white sheets, unconscious in the infirmary, moonlight shining through the window and lighting him up...

He�s just so... small.

Bollocks! One would think a young man as learned as I could come up with another word. But...it describes him.

He looks frail. Not eating for weeks will do that to a body, I suppose. He looks used. I�m sure he has been. Pomfrey won�t tell me, but I know my father. I know that he wouldn�t let go the opportunity to use the Golden Boy�s body.

He looks lost. But we won�t know how far until he wakes.

Twenty minutes under Cruciatus is enough to drive some insane. The Longbottoms, I hear, lasted over an hour. My father had Harry under it for a whole night. Bloody bastard cast it, watched for a while, and when Harry�s vocal chords gave out...he went on up to bed.

At least that�s what he told me. I have no reason to doubt him. He was fresh from the spell himself as he shared that bit of information with me. Only, I�m not quite so cruel. I held him under for perhaps five minutes. Oh, all right. Five minutes at a time. But no one will ever tell me it wasn�t deserved. No one who saw Harry�s small body, crumpled in the corner of the dungeon, reduced to whimpers and spasms, will ever disagree with me.

I committed murder that night.

Rightly, I should be in Azkaban rather than hovering by Harry�s bedside like some worried wife. But when people see you walk into a room holding the body of the missing Boy Who Lived, and hear you speak of rescuing him from your very own manor...from your very own father...let�s just say no one really asks much more of the tormenter than "Is he dead?"

To which I may reply, "Why, yes he is."

No one need know that he died cringing against the dining room table, the light fading from his eyes as he realized his prot�g�, his precious heir no longer belonged to him. No one need know that Lucius Malfoy begged at the end, and cried. No one need know that I shook my head and gently said goodbye before the blinding green light filled the room. No one need know that I arranged my father�s body into a more dignified position before heading back down to the dungeons.

He may have been a bastard. But, he was my father.

He was my father...but this is Harry.

Harry whom he hurt. Harry whom he bled. Harry whom I...

Yes, well we won�t be going there. Not now. Possibly not ever, depending on if Harry ever opens his eyes again. I wait at his bedside. Granted, I cannot wait during normal visiting hours. Every Weasel and his redheaded brother feels the need to camp out at Harry�s bedside during visiting hours. And then, like the good little Gryffindors they are, scamper off to their dormitory when Pomfrey asks it of them.

Not so, I. I have little care for the �rules� of visiting hours. The rules of curfew. The rules of anything at this point. My Harry rests, perhaps forever, in this hideous bed and I will not leave him alone. Not at night. Not when his fears are most likely to come to fruition. Not when he shivers and shakes; and trembles and whimpers. And so I sit, night after night, keeping a silent vigil at his bedside just as his surrogate family keeps their vigil during the day.

The old man knows. I can tell. Even if I could not read his expression during the day as we pass in the hallways, the presence of a warm blanket in my chair of choice that second night spoke volumes. As did the vial of Pepperup potion sitting next to the steaming pot of tea at my arm the next morning.

But he will not betray me. Perhaps he even understands why I did it. Why I betrayed my father. Why I turned against Voldemort. I don�t know. I don�t really care, providing that he leaves me to my vigil.

One sleepy morning, one week and two days after I carried his twitching body into the infirmary, he awoke. I was just getting up from my post. I�d folded the blanket and tucked my hair under the hood of my cloak when the first moan came. I saw his eyes fluttering, trying desperately to open. I saw his head tossing from side to side.

Harry�s movement set off an alarm in Pomfrey�s office and she came at a run. I melted into the shadows, watching where no one could see the wringing of my hands, where no one could hear the shortness of my breath. Dumbledore came moments after, followed by Snape. Apparently, they had all been linked to the alarm.

Pomfrey began casting and checking. Snape hovered, his arsenal of potions clinking together as he waited for Pomfrey to make a pronouncement. Dumbledore watched silently, as did I, as the Boy Who Lived awoke.

His eyes fluttered. He moaned a bit. His eyes shot open and he stared at the ceiling in something akin to fear. Then the screaming began. High pitched and terrified. The thrashing forced Snape to quickly divest himself of his potions and fling himself over Harry to hold him down. Pomfrey fumbled with a vial of calming potion. Dumbledore stood, wand at the ready, should neither Pomfrey nor Snape be successful.

I continued to watch, my heart in my throat.

Finally, the mediwitch got the potion down his throat and his thrashing slowed and eventually stopped altogether. Then the silent tears began. Huge tears, slipping from the corners of his eyes to slide down his temple and moisten his pillow.

Dumbledore attempted to speak to him several times, asking him what he remembered about his time in my father�s custody, asking him what the last thing he remembered at all. Each time, Harry would whimper and turn his head away. Finally, the old man sighed and nodded to Snape. Snape pursed his lips and leaned closer to the bed.

"Legilimens," I heard him whisper. And then the moaning began. Harry was still too drugged to scream, but it was obvious that if he could...he would be doing so. Snape squeezed his own eyes shut and pulled away from the bed. "Albus," he managed to croak, "the boy is gone. He remembers nothing past the age of four or five. The Harry Potter we knew...is gone."

Pomfrey gasped and held her hand to her mouth. Dumbledore just dropped his head and sighed sadly.

"I understand, Severus," he replied, his voice sounding like an old man�s for the first time in my recollection. "Perhaps we should retire for the evening. Sleep on this new revelation...and let our Harry rest as well," he finished, gently stroking an age spotted hand over Harry�s dark hair. "Poppy, be sure to let me know if there are any changes," he requested before rising and herding a surprisingly shaken Snape out the infirmary door.

Pomfrey tutted over Harry a few more minutes and then went back to her rooms in the rear of the infirmary. I made my way out of the corner and back to Harry�s bedside. He looked even smaller, lying there with tears seeping out of his eyes. Those green eyes shot to me as I took my seat again. He stared warily at me and snuffled his nose onto the sheet.

"Hi," I said softly, not really having any idea what the hell to say or do next. Long moments later, I was rewarded.

"Hi."

"My name is Draco," I offered. "Do you remember your name?"

He nodded and sniffed again. "Harry." He frowned at me briefly, as though I confused him. "I know you," he stated.

I smiled. "Yes, you do."

He shook his head. "I remember you."

My heart started pounding. This had to be good, right? For someone who could remember �nothing� after age four?

"Do you?" I was rather pleased with the level of calm I exuded.

He nodded again. "I can�t remember where," he whispered, going back to frowning.

I shrugged. "It�s okay. I�m sure you�ll remember soon." Dear Merlin, please let him remember me. I made a decision as I watched him curl one arm around his own small body and stuff the thumb of the other into his mouth. I reached for a pillow on the bed next to me. "What�s your favorite animal?" I asked.

Harry eyed me warily. "A dog."

"What�s your favorite color?" He shrugged.

With a wave of my wand, a small stuffed dog, black fur and green eyes just like his master, lay in my lap. Harry squeaked and tried to back up through the wall. I placed a hand on his blanket covered leg and tutted at him. "It�s all right, Harry," I soothed. "It�s just magic."

Harry�s whole body shook. "N-no. Magic isn�t r-real."

I snorted. "Of course magic is real. This is Hogwarts, a school that teaches magic. I go to school here. So do you," I pointed out. "They teach you the right way to use magic here."

Harry still looked wary. "It�s okay," he whispered, glancing around the room. "I�ll just tell them you bought it for me."

I couldn�t help but grin. Harry Potter...lying for Draco Malfoy. I also felt a warm glow start in my chest that he would care enough about me to try and prevent me from getting into trouble.

"If you like, Harry," I replied. "Now, you need your sleep. I have to go back to my dorm but the puppy will keep you company, all right?"

Harry looked a bit traumatized at the thought of me leaving, but as soon as I handed the puppy over to him, he wrapped his arms around it and clutched it to his chest. He pulled his hand up and shoved his thumb back into his mouth and watched me as I stood.

I couldn�t resist. He looked so innocent, so sweet.

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. He smiled around his thumb and then closed his eyes. He was asleep by the time the infirmary door shut behind me.

Retreat - Chapter 2

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