Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Melody of Oblivion ❯ Destiny ( Chapter 7 )

Melody of Oblivion

By Kitsune Yarisha

 

A/N: It's been four years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and the man-who-lived has just woken from a long coma. He can remember everything aside from some minor people. He knows he's the one who defeated Voldemort but the last thing he can remember from the night of his victory puzzles him. A pale-skinned, blonde haired teenage male running towards him. Who is he? H/D

 

 

Chapter Six: Destiny

 

“What are the thoughts of a canvas on which a masterpiece is being painted? `I am being soiled, brutally treated and concealed from view.' Thus men grumble at their destiny, however fair.” - Jean Cocteau

 

--

 

One doesn't truly appreciate the intensity of a hangover until they've experience one, so naturally Harry couldn't say anything to comfort his once best mate Ron.

 

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron grumbled discontentedly, cradling his throbbing head in one hand. “Why'd you let me have so many drinks?”

 

Harry sighed, tiredly watching Hermione stir the contents on the cauldron, frothing and bubbling with the ingredients of a hangover potion. “I didn't even know the drinks were alcoholic, Ron. I haven't been around long enough to figure out purple isn't a natural color for a drink.”

 

“They weren't alcoholic, Harry. Blaise spiked them,” Draco stated matter-of-factly, coming back in from the den where several others were nursing their own headaches and weak stomachs. “Much longer, Mrs. Weasley?”

 

“No, no, Draco. Not much longer at all. In fact, I think it may be… There, done!”

 

Ron jumped from his seat, shouting, “Finally!” He groaned and gripped his head, sinking back into the pink kitchen chair, defeated.

 

Hermione pressed a glass of the potion into Harry's hands; he passed it to Ron. “There, you big prat. Next time, don't drink so much,” Harry chided with a cocky grin.

 

Out of the guests who had arrived to enjoy the reunion last night, only Hermione, Draco, Harry, and Neville had remained sober. Ironically enough, Blaise had decided to throw everyone off and drink the most of the spiked drink so no one knew who did it. Of course, Harry though to himself, Draco was privileged enough to know and not get smashed.

 

“How did you know, anyway, Malfoy? About the spiked drinks?” Ron asked, revived by the potion. Ginny staggered in to the kitchen to snatch it from him before stumbling back into the living room silently.

 

“Elementary, my dear Watson! I first arrived at this conclusion when I noticed that the red drink I had drunk before the arrival of my friend had mysteriously changed to purple during the arrival of Mr. Zabini himself,” Draco responded, tapping an imaginary pipe on the granite counter.

 

Harry ignored the conversation between the two men, in favor of looking around the temporarily and magically redone hut that had once housed Hagrid and Fang back when Harry was still at Hogwarts and before the war. He sighed and shook his head before leaning unto the counter and taking a big drink of his water.

 

Hermione took a slow step toward him, mindful of not knocking him down with the boulder of her so-called belly. “Harry? Are you alright?”

 

He raised his head again. Slowly the sounds drifted back in of Draco and Ron arguing and of relieved murmurs in the den, Hermione's came face back into focus. It all took a moment to sort out; Harry blanked out sometimes, slipping into something of a mini-coma, and then coming back ever so slowly. “I'm fine, and you?” He said cheerfully. “You look paler than Draco.”

 

Ron snorted from somewhere to his left and he heard Draco's intake of breath at the indignation.

 

Hermione said offhandedly that her stomach had been hurting since yesterday morning and she didn't feel to well.

 

“Maybe you should take it easy and go rest in the bedroom or in a chair in the den,” Draco suggested, holding out his hand for her to grasp so he could help her on her way.

 

She nodded. “Quite sensible. I think I—.”

 

The sound of water splashing on the floor took all of them by surprise.

 

Hermione's hand went straight to her stomach and looked up and gaspingly laughed.

 

Harry called gently, “Hermione?”

 

“My… my water just broke…”

 

 

“What?” Harry asked, completely lost and looking to Draco for some assistance but the blonde was to busy staring in shock at the pregnant woman.

 

Ron seemed to know where his wits were and immediately grabbed his keys and shouted into the den, “'Mione's having the baby!” He rounded on Harry and Draco. “Hurry up, will you! We have got to get to the hospital this instant!”

 

Harry didn't have a clue and simply stared at him. “She's having the… baby…? Right now?”

 

Hermione's screech of pain - along with the fingers that were digging into his shoulder - got him to stop asking questions though.

 

--

 

Cries rang through Harry's ears from where he stood at the hospital bedside. Ron had gotten him in, with the claim that Harry was Hermione's brother.

 

Draco had been thrown out, however, considering Ron didn't look like he was related to the aristocrat and they couldn't really lie about his relation. Everyone knew a Malfoy when they saw one.

 

The nurse smiled at the little boy crying in Hermione's arms. Everyone in the room was sweaty and exhausted from helping this young witch give birth to the joy of life in her hands now. Doctors left the room quietly and left the rest to the nurses.

 

Ron looked overjoyed. “Look at him, he's got my nose!” He gently stroked the top of the baby's head. “I guess I won't be able to sleep now, eh, mate?” He asked, grinning over at Harry.

 

“Why's that?”

 

“This one doesn't look like a crier…so that means I'll get so fond of him that I can't think of anyone else.”

 

Hermione smiled tiredly, “I remember when Draco use to say stuff like that, Ron.” The baby gurgled and giggled when she rocked him against her reclined chest; the little thing clung to her shirt as if he could smell exactly who was his mother and didn't want to be separated from her after pulled so rudely from the womb of the woman.

 

“Draco?” Harry asked, quietly. “In the absence of the other, silently, your heart reaches out, imploringly. Therefore, so anguished, your heart sends thoughts to your brain…”

 

“Yes. He was philosophical like that. I don't know whom he got it from. He shocked me when he first said something like that. It was so unlike him, in a way,” She giggled quietly.

 

“Really? I can't remember…” That was a lie now, wasn't it? “Even if you don't understand why you think so much of the person after they have left, your heart knows very well…”

 

Ron frowned slightly, tickling at the baby's chin. “Malfoy doesn't say things like that much often anymore. The war seriously changed many things about him. I don't hate too much anymore. He's become more of a person - of a man - since all this happened. I'm not saying I liked the war, but for people like Malfoy, it didn't end up being such a bad thing.”

 

Harry frowned, confused. He asked in a whisper, “But Draco lost a very important person because of the war, right?” “This explains why the heart grows fonder in absence. Your brain only remembers all the good things about the person when they are not so near, because you aren't subjected to their faults. To be subjected continuously to those faults causes fights between the other and yourself and the brain doesn't like to remember that…”

 

“In a sense,” Ron said, kissing Hermione's forehead gently. He stood and guided Harry out of the room by his elbow, gently. “Something terrible happened to his lover, but the man isn't dead. Malfoy just has to wait for the man to coming running back to him, right?”

 

“However, the heart cares not, for that other person is in their entirety the only reason for its existence; however, all those goods things over and over again, makes the heart yearn to experience the real thing…” Harry could remember now, the lecture Draco had been instructed to give in their thesis class. He wondered… “Why hasn't that man run back to Draco yet then?”

 

Ron smiled sadly, looking down at Harry. He placed a warm hand on his friend's shoulder. “I think it is because that man…does not yet remember who to run to.”

 

“…With all its good and its bad.” Maybe this side of Ron was the reason Harry had become friends with him.

 

There was a soothing silence as they walked to the waiting room, Ron's hand still placed protectively on Harry's shoulder. “Malfoy must be wondering what the heck has been going on. Why don't you go ahead and tell him and I'll head back to Hermione?” He said, pushing Harry forward into the room.

 

“Ah,” Harry didn't really have much say in the matter because Ron took the moment of hesitation to motor straight back to his honey. Sighing, the wizard looked around the waiting room. Finally, he caught sight of Draco, who just happened to already be staring at him. “Ah!” He squeaked out again, caught off guard.

 

“Whom does the baby look like?” Draco asked, standing and adverting his eyes.

 

“Uh, he looks like Hermione but he kind of has Ron's features,” Harry replied. That brief moment of clarity, where he could almost remember everything, was gone. The fog had resettled on his mind, but now he could somewhat see how unsure and careful Draco was around him.

 

“Really? The little tyke is going to be more Granger than Weasley so we should celebrate tonight! What did they name him?”

 

“I don't know. I got thrown out before Hermione could bring it up. We were talking about you before I left.”

 

“Oh, how so?”

 

“Ron said something that Hermione said you use to say or something to that effect.”

 

“Perhaps I should leave this discussion at that. I think you three finally had another trio moment,” Draco laughed, patting Harry on the back softly before nudging him forward. “It should be fine for me to go in now, right? We can see what they named the baby together.”

 

Harry hesitated a moment before quietly adding, “Ron and I talked about your lover.”

 

Although he kept walking, Draco seemed to freeze expression wise as if he was clueless as to how to respond.

 

“You don't have to talk about it. I understand how hard it must be. Even for him it must be hard; not knowing whom it is he left behind after the war. I wonder now, how he came to be unable to remember you…” He dropped it at that, feeling nosy.

 

Draco didn't answer till they had made it to the room Hermione had been moved to after the birthing. He paused, mid-step and looked straight at the door, somewhat hiding his expression. “It's hard for everyone he has forgotten. It hurts when I see him sometimes; it hurts for all of them too. You have to think of what to say before you say it because he may not remember the event. I think it's not so painful because all of us forgotten get to see him.”

 

Harry titled his head to the side, trying to get a look at Draco's face. “Is that often?”

 

“Sometimes, when I see him it doesn't feel like the same person because so much has changed. Yet, I'd wager I am not the same person either, at least in his eyes,” Draco murmured, not answering Harry's last question.

 

Harry lowered his eyes, pondering, before finally he pushed open the door.

 

Ron seemed to tackle him just as he stepped in. “We've a name!”

 

Draco couldn't help but joke at Ron's enthusiasm. “I hope you haven't named him Harold and Frederick!” He cried out.

 

“For your information, Malfoy, we named him Lucian Harry Weasley,” Ron exclaimed in a matter-of-fact tone.

 

There was a tense silence before Draco gritted out, “Lucian like Lucius? After my father?” It seemed tough for him to say something related to his father like this.

 

“No, Draco. We named him after you and your middle name, and then his middle name is after Harry. Is that okay?” Hermione asked timidly. The baby wasn't with her, it was in the nurse's care, getting washed up and dressed. She would have to breast feed Lucian when he was returned to her.

 

Draco looked taken aback. “After me?”

 

“It's fine. Thank you, Hermione. It means a lot…to both of us,” Harry smiled.

 

“I'm honored, Mrs. Weasley, to be your son's namesake,” Draco said finally, his eyes bright.

 

Ron teased, “You're not going to make a fuss about it, Malfoy?”

 

“Why should I? It was destiny that named your child.”

 

“No, Malfoy, it was you who named my kid. You and I may still only be just acquaintances but I really want to thank you for making me aware of my love for Hermione. Without you, this boy would have never been born…” Ron said, blushing in embarrassment.

 

Draco smiled and let out a hoarse laugh. “Without me, Hermione wouldn't have just gone through eight hours of labor!”

 

“Thank you, kind sir,” Hermione chimed dryly, not appreciating the joke.

 

Draco laughed harder. “Dear God, Merlin! It was just a joke.”

 

That moment triggered it, just those words. As if someone had tugged on the rope, the curtain on the memory of the night Voldemort had been defeated fell away and the lights flashed on.

 

“Dear God, Merlin. Harry?” The saddened voice called out, tugging at Harry and trying to part the fog. “It's me! Draco!” Harry gasped. Suddenly, everything was bright.

 

 

 

To Be Continued…

 

Author's Note: The next chapter will be the end of Melody of Oblivion. I'm not quite sure where I will go from there with my Harry Potter bunnies, but hopefully more wonderful projects like this will emerge. Notice, the note segment has no reference to the story. Why? Because I know that if I say one thing, I'll give away the grand finale. So stay tuned for le piece de resistance, oui?