seven days lost

Waddled.With his back bent, he cautiously moved towards Harry in the corner. The latter's cheeks were slightly raised, the corners of his mouth twitched, and the veins on his neck were protruding, looking extremely painful.

Draco crouched cautiously beside him, taking the tranquilizer from his pocket.He conjured a syringe, pulled it over Harry's left arm, felt the skin over it, found a vein and pushed it in.

Harry's body trembled slightly, and he slowly turned his head to look at him.His face was covered with black marks left by the out-of-control magic power, and it was extremely dirty.Draco didn't look away, he was still holding the syringe, feeling uneasy for some reason.

Harry looked away quickly, however, as though he really didn't recognize him at all.Draco breathed a sigh of relief, but also felt a little lost.

After all the out-of-control magic power was taken back into Harry's body, he closed his eyes tiredly, tilted his head and passed out in Draco's arms.He quickly wrapped him up in a quilt and carried him out of the room. Senari, who was waiting outside with his head in his arms, widened his eyes when he saw him come back safely.

"My God, Draco, you're hiding it from me!"

"what?"

"You hide it! You told me that you don't understand the brain!"

Draco glanced at the boy in his arms, his brows were still frowning in a coma, his sweat-soaked fringe clinging tightly to his forehead.

"I really don't understand the brain."

He knew very well that from that moment on, he couldn't get rid of this trap.

Harry's condition continued to deteriorate.Since that time when the magic power went out of control, his memory has become more and more disordered.He used to remember Ron and Hermione occasionally, but then he completely forgot about it; he could forget what he was told one second, and his memory flowed over stones like water, without a trace, with Several times when Senary walked into the ward he threw pillows at him, saying that he looked like a murderer in his dream.

"I want to know what other dreams he can have. A lot of memories are hidden in the dreams. If I can analyze his dreams, maybe I will get useful information. But he can't communicate at all now, I mean, Since he couldn't manipulate magic anymore, he's been rather eccentric—" said Senari, who now often complained to Draco about Harry's condition, seemingly using him as his only outlet.

"He can't manipulate magic?" Draco subconsciously clenched his teacup, then immediately withdrew his hand from the heat.

"Just like those little wizards who haven't got the wand yet, he can't control his magic power very well now. Although it shouldn't happen again last time, it has a great impact on his recovery." Senari Looks pretty distressed.

Draco didn't answer.He thought of that pale and frail face, thin and bloodless, cast in the shadows of the cobwebs.

He began to visit that ward frequently.

He didn't understand what he was waiting for.He often saw black and white shadows, continuous, intertwined horizontally and vertically, running through the man's sweaty quilt.Yes, his quilt was always stained with sweat, he didn't know what kind of nightmare he had to make himself as wet as rain, he made a small cry in his dream, he bit hard He took off the quilt, bit his hand, closed his eyes, but the blood red tooth marks remained on his heart.

He always came late at night, when the hospital lights were out and the hospital was silent.He would move a white armchair and sit in the dark blue reflection and look at him.He watched him trembling in his sleep, his brows furrowed, and his body curled up into a ball.He sometimes yelled unknown words, broken names, phantom fences and knife-like blood reflected in his dreams, and he wondered if he would dream of him.

Does he dream of him?he does not know.He may have forgotten him, maybe he still has a vague memory, maybe he still has a feeling of disgust in his heart, but what he fears most is that he has become a background board in his dreams, a dark shadow, drowning in Hogwarts. Ci's sentient beings.

He didn't go one night because he fell ill.Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with his body, at least during working hours he's flawlessly treated 33 patients.But his heart was filled with unease and fear, and he wept silently on his desk—he hadn't cried like this for a long time.

Why are you crying?He didn't know, he just wanted to take a good rest for a while.He was oppressed too tightly, but no one was oppressing him.He understood that he was his own ghost, that his soul was bound by a heavy stone and could not cross the river.

He is a busy therapist by day and a prisoner in the shadows of the past by night.However, he felt that he was the real him at night. He listened to the rain at Hogwarts in the silence, and the sound of the rain turned into a sharp knife and pierced his chest.

He cried, and the next day he asked for leave to stay at home.But even this was not peaceful, he was haunted by ghosts, and was strangled by the boy's pale sobs.Only then did he realize that he hadn't escaped all this time.

He re-entered that ward at night.

The room was dark, and the bed was covered with a curtain, which floated up and down again when he opened the door.He gently drew back the curtain, moved a chair and sat beside him as before.He stared blankly at the boy curled up on the hospital bed. He was as weak as him at this time, the only difference was that he was covered with a snail shell.

"Potter," he whispered, "we're never going to get out, are we?"

The boy didn't answer.His breath was long, like a mist winding around a valley.

"We can't get rid of it, although everything is over. The mountain falls, the sun comes out, but the shadow still remains in the heart.

"Although I pretend that nothing happened, I continue to work here. Although I am a therapist, all I can treat are some temporary pains, some superficial defects, and those diseases that really have eternal trauma, I can't help it at all.

"Potter, I said I don't understand brains. I really don't. How do we get out? I don't understand. We live like bugs without memory. Ah, I forgot, you do Lost memory.

"But I think you remember it better than anyone else."

Naturally, there was no response to his words.He didn't want to get his response either, he could only tell him these things, and only the souls who had experienced this darkness together could echo.Maybe he will forget it in the next morning, he will throw it all away and continue to move forward. His dreams are empty, his body is light, but his soul is sleeping on the other side of time, heavy, and immersed in the bottom of the lonely lake.

Draco stood up, ready to turn and leave as before.As soon as his wrist warmed, a hand grabbed him.He stiffened.

He turned his head slowly, and the person on the hospital bed sat up at some point, and he looked at him quietly, his eyes piercing countless latitudes of time.

The next time Draco had Chinese food with Senary was a week later, when the latter rushed out from a medical meeting with his briefcase in hand, just in time to bump into Draco walking out of the bathroom after washing his hands.

"Oh, buddy, it's been a long time since we got together!" He said, walking forward carelessly with his shoulders hooked.

Draco didn't know when he had become Senari's buddy, he remembered that he only had dinner with him a few times and exchanged some academic issues.But he went with him to a nearby restaurant anyway.

"You know, it's a miracle. His condition has improved a lot recently!" Senari said impatiently as soon as he sat down. He seemed to have held back for a long time.

"……Who?"

"Who else?" He winked at him, "I was really busy a while ago, and now I can finally breathe a sigh of relief." He tugged at the collar and placed the purse more stably, "His mood has stabilized a bit, and Ken communicated with me. His memory is not so chaotic. Although he still can't remember most things, he is at least organized."

"Oh... that's good, good." Draco's thoughts drifted away again, he seemed to have entered the night ahead of time, those green eyes looked at him, and that hand seemed to still have nostalgia.

"Who are you?" he asked, innocent and dazed.

"...I'm your friend." He lied, his voice trembling slightly.

"Are you here to see me? It's late now." He looked at him and said, "Why don't you stay here overnight."

Before he answered, he let go of his hand and moved to the other side, patting the place where he had slept warmly: "Sorry, there is no spare room for you, the room next to it is not mine .”

He smiled apologetically, pulled up the quilt to reveal only one head, and looked at him curiously with clean eyes.

He lay next to him that night, a sleepless night.He froze, staring blankly at the ceiling, not daring to say a word or even move.Any disturbance of the people around him made him terrified, and he didn't dare to look at him. He felt that this was a scene that would only appear in a dream—he and his enemy lay peacefully on the same bed, without harsh words or punches. Hitting and kicking, and no cold greetings.

He soon realized again that it was only because he forgot about him.In their waking hours they never had such a peaceful moment.He was suddenly out of breath.

He wondered if he harbored a glimmer of hope that he wouldn't remember.But if he really forgot, he felt very unwilling.

Out of a kind of evasive psychology, he didn't go to see him after that day.Though he may well have forgotten him again, or thought it was a fever dream, his heart was tormented, and he was