Beneath the Rose

Chapter One -- The Beginning of Trouble

When I first saw him, I thought he was a princess.

The silvery blonde hair came into sight first, followed by his unbelievably pale skin, as if it had never been touched by a ray of sunlight. His movements were graceful, and his every motion held a sense of purpose. He looked delicate and fragile, far frailer than a china doll, as if he might break at any moment. The boy had every right to be called an angel, but he was far from being one. Then came his eyes: stormy grey orbs that shone with arrogance and pride like the princesses in fairy tales.

He stood out in Hogwarts -- even among hundreds of students -- whether he was walking into the Great Hall or just chatting with his friends in class. He seemed almost unearthly, and it felt unnatural to see him hang around with his fellow Slytherins; they were far too mediocre compared to him. Sometimes I would drift off in my imagination, thinking that he had once lived in a grand castle and ruled over its people.

From the moment I laid my eyes on him, I knew Draco Malfoy was special.

* * *

"Sectumsempra!" The word came out of his mouth before he had time to think. The raven-haired boy grinned slightly as the spell hit the Slytherin squarely on the chest. The blonde merely stood there, as the smug smile slowly faded from the other boy's lips.

What have I done?

The dark-haired boy watched in shock as the blonde in front of him collapsed onto the wet floor. Moaning Myrtle was screaming her head off, but the boy stood petrified with fear at the spot where he'd cast the spell. The blonde now lay on his back. His face and robes were smeared with blood that continued to gush from his cut. The thick liquid reached the waterlogged floor and spread like dancing flowers, slowly staining the water crimson beneath his robe. The boy's eyes were tightly shut as he clenched his bleeding chest. The brunet stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside the blonde.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He crawled closer to the boy lying on his back, picked up his head from the cold, wet floor, and placed his left hand under his hair. The raven-haired boy noticed that his face was even paler than before, with tear marks that had dried not too long ago. Nervously, he bent over and tried to heal him, but none of the spells worked.

The boy began to worry. He wished he had paid more attention to the healing spells mentioned in his books. He chanted the spells over and over again, hoping the wounds would heal just a little.

Suddenly, the door was slammed open, revealing a tall man with long, greasy hair. The dark-haired boy opened his mouth to speak, but the man pushed the boy aside roughly, and he staggered back and hit the wall. The man then took out his wand, placed it above the blonde's chest, and muttered a spell as he traced his wand down the boy's wound. Seconds after the man began treating the wounds, the deep cuts began to close as the tissues knitted together. The blonde opened his eyes slowly and looked up at the longhaired man who was still trying to mend his wounds.

"Severus ..."

"You need to go to the infirmary. If we treat your wounds immediately, you might not even have scars. Now come," the man said gently to the boy as he helped him stand. The warmth was wiped clean as he turned around and glared at the raven-haired boy with a mixture of disgust and hatred. "And as for you, Potter, I hope you will provide an explanation for this when I come back."

The raven-haired boy stared as the two of them moved out of the bathroom and disappeared down the hall, hoping that this was all just a nightmare.

* * *

"I don't think I need to say it again, Harry, but I'll say it anyway: Leave the goddamned book alone," Hermione Granger said as she flounced over to the sofa in the common room.

"But it's not Harry's fault. Malfoy deserved it!" Ron Weasley frowned at the girl with bushy hair.

"Look, if it wasn't for that book, this would never have happened in the first place," Hermione said, her fingers tapping on her knee with impatience. She turned toward other boy and continued on with her lecture. "Harry, there's Dark Magic in that book. It's not as fun as it looks."

"Hermione, he tried to curse Harry, for goodness' sake!" Ron stood up from his seat, face red from frustration. "For all we know, Harry could have been dead if he hadn't defended himself!" Hermione and Ron were glaring at one another as if trying to burn a hole through the other's face.

"If defending oneself means killing the other--"

"Guys, can we please stop this."

The two heads turned at the same time to face the boy with unruly hair. Hermione immediately took a seat next to the boy. Ron hesitated before taking a seat on his other side.

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have tried that spell. I would never have done that to Malfoy if I'd known what was going to happen to him." Harry Potter sat between his two best friends, rubbing his temples with his hands as he murmured. The memory of what happened several hours ago repeated itself over and over again in his head. He felt guilty for what he had done. He didn't mean to harm Malfoy, even if he was an archrival at school. The image of him falling in a puddle of his own blood made Harry shutter mentally.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Hermione put her hand onto the boy's shoulder. "I didn't mean to blame you for this, but you really shouldn't have used an unknown spell like that. Promise me you won't go and look for that book again."

"You just don't want anyone to beat you in Potions, that's all." Hermione shot Ron a look.

"Maybe I should go to the infirmary to check on how he's doing." Hermione looked disapproving, and Ron was about to protest, but Harry continued before either of them had time to speak. "After all, it really was my fault."

It was already eight o'clock when Harry headed for the hospital wing. Hermione had insisted on coming with him, saying that she could keep an eye on Malfoy in case he tried to do anything funny, but Harry assured her that nothing was going to happen.

"It's only going to take five minutes," Harry said.

"But this is Malfoy we're talking about. How do you know he wouldn't hex you the second you step through those doors?" Hermione had always been the paranoid one.

"Look Herm', Malfoy had just been revived from a severe injury." Harry's stomach lurched as he spoke, but he went on. "He probably won't have the strength to even sit up, not to mention casting spells. And even if he does try to do something funny ... well, I'm sure that nothing serious is going to happen." Hermione raised her brows at Harry. He was never good when it came to reasoning. The boy grinned, hoping that this sensitive girl would be more convinced. And surprisingly, Hermione did not argue back.

"Oh, all right. But make sure you come back quickly." The smile on Harry's face broadened.

The boy found his way to the infirmary and stepped in to talk to Madame Pomfrey about seeing Malfoy. At first, she eyed him suspiciously, but she finally decided that if Harry was asking permission to see Malfoy nothing bad was going to come of it. The dark-haired boy was secretly happy that he had been one of Pomfrey's favourites; if Malfoy had been asking for the same thing, he would probably have been kicked out the second those words left his mouth. Well, things might have been different if he hadn't tried to pull that stupid stunt in their third year.

After obtaining permission, Harry walked further into the infirmary. He scanned the room for the Slytherin and found him on the third bed to his right. Slowly, he walked over and sat down on the chair placed beside it, watching the blonde as he slept. The wound on his face had almost vanished. His skin had almost returned to its usual colour, but there was still with a tinge of grey. Harry noticed the dark shadows under the boy's eyes and could not help but wonder what Malfoy had been doing since school had started. The Boy-Who-Lived began to worry that his suspicions had been true, that Draco had been working for the Dark Lord.

The door of the infirmary opened and closed, and Harry pushed his thoughts away. It seemed that Madame Pomfrey had gone elsewhere. He looked back at the boy, and his heart almost stopped. The face that had been so calm and peaceful was no longer resting. The previously shut eyes had opened to reveal cold, grey marbles that stared back at Harry.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" The blonde spoke weakly as he sat up on the bed, trying to level himself with Harry. However, he had fallen back onto his pillows. Tension built between his brows.

"Don't try to get up. You're still hurt." The Slytherin ignored Harry's comment and attempted to sit up again, fighting back the pain. This time, he succeeded.

"And whose fault do you think it was?" Even in such a state, there was arrogance mixed with the bitter words Draco Malfoy spoke. The two of them fell silent, with the blonde still glaring at the other boy. Moments later, Harry opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry about what happened. I--"

"Am I supposed to forgive you after you tried to kill me?" Malfoy snapped before Harry could finish. "For your information, Potter, I could've been scarred for life, or even worse, dead. Now get the hell out of my face before I curse you."

"I don't need you to forgive me, and I know what I've done might have ended up being worse than this. But I'm going to apologize anyway. I'm truly sorry for what I did." The blonde narrowed his eyes in distrust, but he could only find sincerity burning in the deep emerald eyes of his enemy. Malfoy turned his gaze away.

"Out."

Harry did not need to be told again. He stood up and marched out of the infirmary.

* * *

Harry woke the next morning and found himself alone in the dormitory. He dressed and decided to fill his stomach before going to detention with Snape. As he stepped into the Great Hall, he felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on him. There was no doubt the whole school knew the series of events that had happened in the boys' washroom. Harry tried his best to ignore the stares and sat at his usual spot at the Gryffindor table eating a bowl of cereal. While drinking his pumpkin juice, Harry stole a few glances at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was nowhere in sight.

Harry finished his breakfast quickly and went down to Professor Snape's office.

Detention did not go smoothly. Snape, gazing hatefully at him all the while, kept him in his dark office for almost three hours. Just when he thought he was about to die, Snape dismissed him and told him the next session will take place at the exact same time the following week.

Feeling tired, Harry spoke the password to the Fat Lady and entered the common room. His felt the weight in his heart lighten once he saw the smiling faces of his fellow Gryffindors; they had, no doubt, won the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Ron cheered when he saw Harry enter the common room. Ginny turned around, came running toward him, and gave him a warm hug. Seamus and Dean each handed Harry a glass of butterbeer and almost forced it down his throat.

After spending the rest of the afternoon celebrating, the gang went down for dinner as night descended. They arrived at the Great Hall with most of the Gryffindors looking at Harry's direction as the group sat down on the long table. Instead of butterbeer, which Harry now felt sick from drinking, his friends cheered the victory with pumpkin juice. The glasses clattered as they hit against each other. As the gang engaged in another round of discussion about the Quidditch match earlier, everyone seemed to have thrown the event in the boys' washroom to the very back of their minds -- all except for Harry, that is.

Halfway through dinner, Harry noticed that Malfoy was absent. His stomach lurched uncomfortably. The injury should have healed by now. He tried to tell himself that the blonde might have skipped dinner to do his homework or that he simply wasn't feeling hungry. He failed miserably, however. He was not good at lying, not even to himself. Pretence was replaced slowly by concern.

What if Malfoy never healed properly?

Harry chocked on a piece of ham at the thought. His heart was overwhelmed by guilt and fear. Then he remembered the conversation between Professor Snape and Draco.

If we treat your wounds immediately, you might not even have scars.

Malfoy would probably hate him even more if he was scarred. Even if Malfoy acted as if nothing had happened, Harry would probably drive himself mad for the rest of his life out of guilt.

He stuffed down as much food as he could and slipped out of his seat. The other Gryffindors, who had been talking about Ginny's brilliant performance, did not notice Harry sneaking out of the Great Hall. Hermione was the only one who paid attention to Harry's abrupt actions. However, she did not say anything to the others as Harry disappeared down the corridor.

Within minutes, Harry had reached the hospital wing. He stepped inside, but he did not see Madame Pomfrey anywhere. The infirmary was dimly lit, and Harry was only able to make out the outline of the few beds in the room. It was only when he stepped inside the room that he felt his own anxiety. He arrived a few steps from the foot of the bed that he thought was Draco's and realized that it was empty. The white sheets had been smoothed evenly, without a trace of fold.

I told you he's fine. The voice in the back of Harry's mind told him. The odd, suffocating feeling in his chest died away, and he let out more or less of a sigh in relief.

"Coming to kill me again, huh, Potter?"

The words caught Harry off guard. He would recognize that voice anywhere, and he spun around instinctively. For a moment, he could only see the dark silhouettes on the opposite wall. Then he caught the stormy eyes.

The blonde was sitting a few beds away on the other side of the room, with a thin layer of blanket that covered his waist and below.

"Malfoy ..."

"I thought I told you to get lost," Draco Malfoy said. As calm as his voice was, the blonde was clearly irritated to see his nemesis standing before him. "It looks like I have to use a more effective way to get rid of you." The blonde reached for the wand on his right and pointed it at Harry.

"Please, I didn't come here for a fight. I just want to talk."

"I'm not convinced, Potter. Coming here at this time of the day ..." A cold sneer found its way to Malfoy's face. "And may I add that I think we went over this last time, but I guess I'll have to repeat myself: Get out."

"Look, can we just --"

"I'm afraid not, Potter. There's nothing more needed to be said." The smirk and sneer were wiped from his face without a trace as the blonde cut abruptly into Harry's sentence. The room fell into silence, and the two boys stared at one other. But, the Slytherin still had the wand gripped in his fingers. Harry frowned, more towards himself than anything else. He walked closer to the bed the blonde was now sitting on and made another attempt to speak with him.

"I know that nothing I say will change the way you think about what happened." Harry paused, waiting for the other boy to cut him off again. No comment came, and Harry continued, "So, I was wondering if I can do anything to make it up to you." The words made him sound more cautious and nervous than he had intended. Careful as he was, though, Harry did not once turn his gaze away from the blonde. Malfoy stared at Harry with the same blank expression, but the Gryffindor knew that he was considering and weighing his words. Finally, the blonde opened his mouth to speak.

"Actually, yes."

Harry was startled by the quick response. He tried not to show it, and Malfoy didn't seem to notice.

"Turn right, walk three steps, turn left, and keep on going until you see a door. Open it, walk out, head toward Gryffindor tower, and don't show your face here again."

"Malfoy, be serious," Harry said, but he could not suppress the exasperation growing in his voice.

The Slytherin stared into the green eyes, locking gazes, and for a minute Harry seemed to see uncertainty in the stormy grey. Whatever emotion was there was quickly covered by a barrier, like a layer of mist that lay beneath the pupils. Malfoy swung his head, almost too quickly, and laid his wand beside his pillow.

"Just leave." The blonde shifted in his bed so his back faced the raven-haired boy.

Enraged, Harry wheeled around to leave the ward. Then something caught his eye as he glided past the blonde. Even in the dark, Harry could see the shape of the other boy's small body. He had noticed the blonde seemed to be getting thinner every time they passed each other in the hallways. But, that was not what made the boy stop in his tracks. For a second, he thought he had seen the boy's pyjama-clad shoulders quiver slightly.

"Malfoy--?" The anger drained out of his voice, and it was replaced by tenderness that had not existed seconds ago. When the Slytherin did not respond, Harry repeated his name again, in a more anxious voice this time. The dark-haired boy waited, but once again there was no reply. Worried and slightly confused, Harry walked up to Malfoy's bed and placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder. The Gryffindor flinched away as his fingers brushed by the boy's pale skin. The marble white flesh felt like it was caught on fire. Without a second thought, Harry held onto both sides of the boy's shoulder and turned his body so the blonde was facing him. Malfoy squirmed and tried to pull away. Harry had anticipated the action, and strengthened his grip. The struggles became light nudges, and finally the blonde stopped moving. Harry could feel Malfoy trembling, now that the boy ceased to attempt an escape. Perspiration built on the blonde's face, and Harry could feel the heat radiating from him even through the thick fabric of his pyjama. He shook the pale boy lightly, but he seemed to be ignoring it.

Harry placed Malfoy back onto the bed. The blonde jolted slightly as the raven-haired boy removed his hands from his shoulders. Seeing that Madame Pomfrey would not be back anytime soon, Harry decided to look for the potion himself. He lit his wand and looked through the shelves full of containers of different shapes and sizes, checking for the one he needed. When he was finally able to find the right bottle, he heard a scream that made him drop the glass. Harry left the broken bottle and its remains and rushed to the blonde's bed.

Malfoy is now sitting, shaking violently. "No ... don't ... please don't ..." He spoke in a voice that was barely audible. His eyes were wide with fright, but there was something about them that did not feel right. The stormy grey had lost their usual colour, as if all life had been drained out of them. Harry, watching the boy's every move, walked slowly toward the blond, taking each step with caution.

"I ... I'll do anything ... I promise. I'll do anything!" The Slytherin pleaded, almost desperately, choking on his words as he sobbed. Harry reached the boy and sat on the empty space on the bed beside him. Malfoy did not even seem to notice the presence of the other boy, and simply sat there, crying. Harry put his hand onto the boy's shoulder again, slow and lightly this time. Malfoy veered his head just as the other boy felt the fabric under his fingers, as if noticing Harry for the first time. Malfoy backed away abruptly until his back hit the cold metal of the headboard.

"Malfoy--"

"Don't kill him ... please ... don't kill the!" Grey eyes stared at the green, vacant as ever. Harry moved closer to the blond and enclosed him in his arms. His body felt so small, so light. Malfoy resisted, more aggressively than he had before, and tried to push the other boy away, but Harry only tightened his arms around the blonde. Soon, he stopped moving in Harry arms and clenched his hands around his robe. His grasp was so tight that his knuckles turned a deathly white.

"Shh .... No one's going to die," Harry whispered as he rubbed and patted the blonde on the back soothingly. This was the second time he had seen Draco's tears. It felt weird, seeing the Slytherin cry like this. He looked helpless and desperate -- not at all like the proud Malfoy he had known. It reminded Harry of how he had been locked up in the cupboard whenever he did something wrong or unnatural. Harry kept on comforting the blonde. After all, it was the least he could do for him. He had never truly disliked Malfoy. Although the young Slytherin had done a few things that had provoked Harry very much, he could never bring himself to truly hate the boy. He remembered when they first met at Madam Malkin's robe shop. The genuine smile on the blonde's face had made him feel welcome for the first time since he first joined the Wizarding World, like he had actually belonged here. Maybe a first impression had had a far bigger impact than he thought.

Harry returned his attention to Malfoy. The boy breathed calmly now, but he still seemed a little shaky. "Go to sleep. No one's getting hurt. No one will hurt you," Harry whispered. Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned his head onto Harry's shoulder, like an obedient child. Harry continued to stroke the other boy's back until he heard slow, even breathing. He then laid the blonde back onto the bed and covered him with a layer of blanket.

A million questions were going through his mind. The boy knew, however, that asking these questions would not help the current situation one bit. Seeing that it was getting late, Harry stood up from his seat and walked out the infirmary. Questions could wait till later.