Beneath the Rose

Chapter Two -- Foggy Memories

Draco woke the next morning with a throbbing pain in his head that ceased to go away. His left hand automatically found its way to his temple. He let his fingers press hard into his skin and massaged it, while he slowly adjusted to the sting. Feeling better, the boy sat up and leaned back on the headboard. It only took a few seconds for him to think back to the day before.

Potter had been here. We argued, and I told him to leave. Then I felt pain, and then...oh my God.

Draco dropped his head in his hands. The boy winced as his sudden action brought a jolt of pain to his head once more.

This has to be the worst day of my life.

Slowly removing his hands from his face, the blonde turned to look at the clock. It was quarter after eight. His hands instinctively reached for the pile of clothes placed on the table and began fumbling through it. It was when he finally spotted the sleeve of the white top he was looking for that his body caught up with his mind.

What am I doing? I shouldn't be worrying about class right now. Fuck. It's the last thing I should be worrying about!

Pushing a strand of hair out of his face, Draco folded his clothes into a neat pile and placed it back onto the table. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and then took another, trying to wash away a rising mixture of emotions.

Shit. Potter knows.

Draco wanted to kick himself. As if he had not taken enough precaution already. He knew that Potter had been keeping an eye on him and his gang ever since the beginning of the year, and he had done everything he could think of to make himself less suspicious. But so far, nothing seemed to distract that bloody Gryffindor from digging into this matter. In fact, Potter seemed to know exactly where they were at times. Although he would like to think of it as his own paranoid nature to suspect and question things a great deal, it was far beyond what one could call coincidence. Potter also seemed to have already learned about their little hiding place on the seventh floor. He had to be more careful from now on. This meant that he would have to stay out of Potter's way and avoid him whenever possible, even if it would cost him his reputation.

After minutes of frustration and dissatisfaction, Draco fell back onto the pillows and pulled the covers over his head. He needed some time to work things out, and he could care less about missing a few classes. Before he even got to the next step, waves of exhaustion hit him, and he suddenly realized how tired he was. Draco shut his eyes and slept.

* * *

The afternoon sun penetrated the thin layer of curtain. Feeling the light on his face, Draco fluttered his lashes several times before finally forcing his eyes open. The headache that had pained him so much was gone without a trace. The boy sat up, sighing in relief, and began to smooth his hair with his hand, running his fingers through each strand. The room was painted a beautiful gold, with a tinge of orange and red. Sunsets reminded him of his childhood memories. He used to sit in his father's study, watching him work hour after hour. His father would always turn around at the sight of dusk with his hair and eyes luminous from the rays. Every once in a long while his lips would curve up, forming not a sneer, but something so rare that he remembered seeing it only a dozen times in his life. He felt proud, even privileged, to see one of his father's few genuine smiles. Those were memories too precious, too dear to forget.

Then it all came crashing down. Death Eaters. Dementors. The Dark Lord. Azkaban. The Kiss. The Dark Mark. His mother. His mission. Killing Dumbledore. He didn't want to think about these things. He hated his reality and longed to go back to his childhood, where the only thing he had to worry about was being happy. He knew he could not possibly go back in time and stay there for the rest of his life. The world didn't work that way.

For a long time, Draco merely sat there and watched the magnificence in front of him in silence, letting his mind travel to those distant memories. He felt his eyes moistening and blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. Crying meant exposing all sorts of vulnerabilities. He had done enough crying to last him a lifetime. Finally, the last rays of the setting sun slipped away, and they were replaced by the faint glow of moonlight behind the thick coat of clouds.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

The voice broke Draco's thoughts and brought him back to the now candle-lit room. With a swift, graceful swing, the blonde turned to face the woman standing a few beds away from him. His eyes returned once again to a cold grey, no longer lucid and readable.

"Hello, Madame Pomfrey," the boy replied. Like his eyes, his voice maintained its usual colourless tone.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, fine. Thank you," Draco responded.

"Well then, Mr. Malfoy, I am happy to inform you that you've made a complete recovery," the woman stated, not sounding the least bit glad. "I think I'll let you out of bed early." She paused and eyed the blonde for a moment before she continued. "Are you quite sure you don't want to spend another night here? Professor Snape told me the injury might take some time to recover fully."

"No, I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern," Draco spoke, politely, with a smile on his lips. He had recovered from the injury on the day the incident had happened, but since Professor Snape had the duty of being his Godfather, it was only natural that he made sure his Godson was "cared for the best." But today was not the day for that. The last place Draco wanted to be at was the Infirmary; Potter had dropped in the previous two nights, and Draco was positive that he would appear again tonight. He would need to go somewhere that Bloody Gryffindor couldn't bother him. At least then he would have been able to be spared from Potter's stupid questions. In fact, that convenient little hideout up on the seventh floor would be the perfect place. As long as he was in there, Potter wouldn't be able to disturb him.

The blonde got out of bed and began taking off his pyjamas, all the while with Madame Pomfrey watching. As Draco unbuttoned his top, she could see the outline of his small body, with his pale skin tightly wrapped around his ribs and spine. The boy was far from muscular, not to mention healthy. There were heavy shadows under his eyes--not at all the kind that one would get from missing a day or two of sleep. Of course, Draco was oblivious to the fact that Madame Pomfrey was watching him. It was only when he finished changing that the woman opened her mouth to speak again, in a less stern manner.

"Dinner has just started. They're serving shepherd's pie today. If you hurry, there might still be some left." Draco nodded, thanked Madame Pomfrey for the information, and began walking out the door. Of course, he had no intention in going to the Great Hall. "Actually, I'm heading there myself. Do you mind if I go with you?"

The blonde stopped in his tracks.

No...this is not happening. Could a day be any worse?

Draco nodded slowly, as if his ability to speak had been taken away.

"Well, what are we waiting for? The food be gone!"

Madame Pomfrey marched swiftly to the door, opened it, and gestured for the blonde to walk through. Unwillingly, Draco stepped outside, cursing every last word and phrase imaginable.

* * *

Hogwarts during dinner was always quiet; but for Draco, it was quite different. A fierce battle was taking place inside his head.

Tell her you need to go to the bathroom, and then make your way to the kitchen and terrorize the house elves. I'm sure it won't hurt to ask them to make you something to eat. I mean, serving food is their duty. The voice in the back of his head spoke.

No! You know for a fact that this is a lame excuse and will only arouse her suspicions. Remember? I went to the bathroom two minutes ago. That is not my main concern, though. Pomfrey is on to me. Just look at the way she's staring at me!

Well, it's far better than walking to the Great Hall and meeting your demise. You know how people are going to react when they see you enter the hall. Sure, you'll be in the centre of attention and all, but that's not the point. The point is that Potter will be notified of your return, and the first thing he's going to do is to bombard you with questions. It might make it easier if you don't go there at all.

If you want to lighten my burden a little, you could start by shutting up right now.

Surprisingly, the voice stopped nagging. Draco would have enjoyed the tranquility and peace if it wasn't for the fact that he had just been reminded of something he'd tried to forget. He wanted to skip dinner, of course, for the sake of unwanted attention and the fact that he needed some time alone to sort things out in his head. Above all, he needed to be away from Harry Potter; his presence would only add more pressure to his fragile mind at the moment. He was already feeling angry and frustrated at the thought of Potter's name.

He's going to pay for this.

"Mr. Malfoy." Madam Pomfrey's voice startled Draco. She was standing a few meters behind him; her eyebrows were raised, questioning his sudden behaviour.

"Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts." Draco resumed his lazy strides as he replied. The woman looked at him for a few more seconds and followed after the Slytherin.

Then again, his hunger could not be suppressed forever. He hadn't taken in much of anything other than water for the last two days. Draco had to admit that he really was famished. Food was one of mankind's three greatest needs for a reason.

The two reached the Great Hall shortly. Draco paused again in front of the door; taking a long, deep breath, the blonde stepped through it.

He saw heads turn at the Ravenclaw table, followed by the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, and then the Slytherins. The casual conversations ceased, and quick, urgent whispers emerged. Draco ignored their stares and continued to stroll leisurely to his table.

"Finally back, are we? I thought we might never see you again," Blaise said half-jokingly.

"Professor Snape gave me permission to stay, but Slytherin would probably crumble to pieces if I don't show my face here tonight." He sat down beside Blaise and Goyle and smirked. "So, here I am."

"Oh, Draco, we missed you!" Pansy Parkinson came running from the other end of the table, and hugged Draco so hard that he was sure the air left in his lungs might not maintain him for very long. Pansy released her grip, a grin on her face. "I was so worried about you! Professor Snape wouldn't let me visit you."

Oh I'm glad he didn't. Draco was barely able to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. Pansy was a very bright girl, but at times she could be very annoying. Other than that, the blonde enjoyed her company quite a lot.

After a few more greetings from his housemates, the murmurs at the Slytherin table came to an end, and the conversations they left off earlier resumed. And that included his friends. Usually, Draco would have been furious if they left him out, but he decided to let it drop for now. He didn't want to be disturbed while having his first and only meal of the day. The blonde picked up his fork and knife and ate quickly. For all he knew, dinner could be over any time now. He needed to distract himself from the things on his mind. In fact, Draco forced himself to look at the food on his plate and only the food on his plate.

Supper was over in twenty minutes, and Draco had been able to clear everything from his plate before the empty dishes became slices of cheesecake.

"Are you all right, Draco?" Pansy, who had been watching Draco for some time now, made her move.

"Pansy, I'm fine," Draco said without looking up.

"You haven't made any sarcastic remarks or shot any insults at those stupid Gryffindors for some time now." Most of the conversations died down. The rest of the Slytherins now turned their attention to the two of them.

"I just grew out of my immaturity, that's all. You don't expect me to run around and yell my head off at them every second of my life, do you? They won't get any brighter anyway." Draco grinned, but it wasn't reflected in his eyes. He let the curve on his lips drop. "We're not children anymore."

"Right." Pansy was clearly not convinced. "Let's drop that matter and talk about something else. What have you been doing the last few months?"

"Waking up, having breakfast, going to class, having lunch, going to more classes, having dinner, doing homework, and sleeping."

"You know what I mean." Pansy stared sternly at the blonde, only Draco stared back with equal carelessness.

"Actually, Pansy, I haven't the slightest idea."

"Do you think I haven't noticed your little...disappearances?" Pansy's voice rose. "It's not just me, you know. All the people seated here have noticed. They just don't want to be hexed for saying something they think they shouldn't be mentioning, that's all. I believe people from other houses have had their suspicions for quite a while as well." She took a deep breath and exhaled. "I'm really worried."

"If you've learned of my 'disappearances,' then you must know that Crabbe and Goyle are always with me. You've got nothing to worry about. I just need some fresh air."

"But, Draco, you've been acting so differently..."

"Look. This is not your business--nor is it anyone else's. It's mine and mine alone." His voice became cold once more, and his eyes gleamed with annoyance, replacing the lazy, carefree expression that was there. "I will repeat myself. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Now if you'll excuse me. I have some unfinished homework to catch up on." Draco spun around and headed for the door. The Slytherins recommenced their conversations, all except for Pansy, whose eyes followed Draco until he left the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry sat between Ron and Seamus, poking at the tiny pieces of carrots on his plate. He constantly found himself shifting his eyes from his housemates' animated conversations to stare at the entrance to the Great Hall. He wondered if Malfoy was still paralysed in the Hospital Wing or merely not wanting to get out of bed and write the essay Snape had assigned the day before the incident. If he had not made the visit to the Infirmary yesterday, Harry would have, without a doubt, happily chosen to believe the latter. However, things seen cannot be unseen, and things known cannot be unknown. He wanted to go to the Infirmary again but remembered that the last two times he went, the Slytherin told him to never show his face there again. Harry's thoughts were broken as he spotted a figure with fair blonde hair marching into the Great Hall with Madame Pomfrey walking just steps behind him. Harry could not find the usual laziness and arrogance on Malfoy's face. He looked rather exhausted, annoyed, and...nervous? All of that was sealed once again as Malfoy took his seat beside Blaise.

After a while, Harry looked away and decided to stick with the food on his plate instead. He stole a last glance at the blonde and continued to work toward finishing the rest of the shepherd's pie on his plate.

The chatting seemed to have stopped in one part of the room. Harry raised his head to look around. His housemates were still talking. He looked at the Hufflepuffs and then at the Ravenclaw table. Nope. Not them either. Then his eyes traced to the last table, the Slytherins, and he saw they were unusually quiet. Just as his eyes rested on that area of the room, Malfoy stood up and, with an air of superiority, left the room.

* * *

It was a quarter to eight when Draco left the Great Hall and headed down to the dungeon. Once reaching the secret passage, he spoke the password and entered. The common room was nearly empty. A small group of third years, who were cuddling on the couch, looked up at the sight of someone entering and immediately began to whisper among themselves as they saw him. Draco ignored them and walked to a table further inside the common room. He sat down on the chair, took out a fine quilt and some parchment, and began writing his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay on Inferi. He was not very eager when it came to homework, but Draco needed something to distract him from all the things on his mind. Desperately.

Focus, Draco, focus.

The blonde tapped his quill on the parchment. Once. Twice. He lifted the white feather one more time and then let his wrist fall slowly; only this time, the quill did not land an ink blot on the paper. His hand began to scribble furiously on the parchment without even needing to think about how the words came out, pausing only when he needed to dip his quill in the bottle for more ink. Within half an hour, the essay was complete, read, and reread. After making a few minor adjustments, Draco placed his quill down on the table and rolled up his parchment. He stuffed the scroll in his bag and headed for his dormitory. As the blonde placed his things by his bed, he could hear his roommates outside. Seconds later, they opened the door and entered.

"Hey, Draco. Off to bed so soon?" Nott, who spotted Draco standing beside the window, spoke as he approached. "I thought there was some unfinished homework you needed to do."

"Did you think I sat here for half an hour doing nothing?" Draco turned away from the window to face the rest of the Slytherins. Without giving them a chance to ask what had happened during dinner, the blonde moved past his roommates and out of his dormitory. "I'm going out for a bit." He could see Crabbe and Goyle opening their mouths to say something, but he gave them no time to retort. He walked quickly across the common room and marched out the door.

Most students were now back in their common rooms or dormitories. It had been routine for most to spend Sunday nights doing reading and homework. Thankfully, that was also the case today. There was no need to hide from Potter now, unless for some bizarre reason the stupid twit decided to ditch his homework and roam the castle.

For once, Draco had no urge to go anywhere near the seventh floor. He had absolutely no desire to think about the task given to him by the Dark Lord. There was still time left to decide. He spent the next fifteen minutes walking around in the castle, but the pointless strolling only made it more frustrating. He needed to go somewhere open, and he knew from experience that such a place could calm his mind a little. He moved swiftly past the next few corridors. The clock on the tower had just struck nine

To Hell with curfew. Draco sneered.

The number of times he had broken the rules this year could probably amount to three months worth of detention, not to mention how many classes he had skipped.

Draco stepped out into the open night. He could feel the wind lashing against his face and body, but he didn't care about the drastic decrease in temperature. He roamed the grounds and minutes later ended up at the Black Lake. The blonde turned his head around lazily. The castle seemed oddly baleful from his angle, silently looming on the hill. The Slytherin looked away and sat down beside an oak by the lake. He looked into the dark water. It was like looking into a black mirror; there was only the reflection of the moon and himself. Draco saw how thin he looked, and the dark circles beneath his eyes only made it worse.

Oh God. I really do look awful.

The blonde closed his eyes and brought his hands to his forehead, rubbing it gently.

Had Potter seen how devastated I looked?

Draco withdrew his hand and leaned back onto the tree.

Why in Bloody Hell do I care what Potter thinks, when I should be trying to get him out of my mind.

He had hated Harry Potter ever since first year, when that ungrateful git refused his hand of friendship. That was his first public humiliation. He had loathed the bloody Gryffindor and his friends from that day on. He wanted Potter to feel the same way he had felt in first year, and probably still did, despite what he told Pansy. Over the last six years, it became impossible to content himself with just making Potter embarrassed. He wanted Potter to hate him as much as he hated the Gryffindor. It began in third year, when he tried to get that stupid Hippogriff killed and the giant oaf sacked. Then came the Triwizard Tournament when he made those "Potter Stinks" badges and tried to get everyone in the school to wear them, just to embarrass Potter. In fifth year, he'd become Umbridge's favourite, even though he utterly hated her, so that he could use his power to hunt down the Gryffindors.

Finally, he remembered the event that had happened on the Hogwarts Express. He'd spotted Potter sneaking into their cabin, cast his Full-Body Bind on the Gryffindor, broke his nose, and once again covered him with his Invisibility Cloak to be taken back to London. Out of all his "witty plans," this was the most daring, and it should probably have been the most satisfying one out of them all. But it hadn't been. He did not feel the triumph. There was a different sensation, something that had never been there before. When he felt his foot on Potter's face, he'd felt a sting in his chest--almost like he was hurting himself. Deep down, he regretted doing it. He always believed that he detested Potter and his presence, but he began to waver. Did he really hate Potter, or had he never stepped out of his embarrassment? Was it all for the attention--to put himself in the spotlight? Was it jealousy of Potter and his friends that drove him to his actions? Had he never grown out of his childhood obsession with the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived? Did he still long to be his friend and wish that it was him sitting next to the Gryffindor instead of the Weasel and the Mudblood? Draco asked himself, over and over again, but he was not able to come up with a definite answer. Maybe he wasn't trying hard enough because he was afraid of the truth. He was perfectly fine with the way things were right now, staying in the dark and all that, he really was.

...Or was he?

A gust of wind made the leaves and grass dance in the air, and Draco finally realized how cold the night was. He folded his arms in front of his chest and huddled closer to the tree. He did not want to go back to his dormitory, at least not yet. The blonde leaned back a bit and closed his eyes, listening to the wind. He could hear the rustling of leaves as the breeze went from tree to tree.

...Malfoy...

Draco opened his eyes. He looked around and saw nothing but endless green hills and the black water by his feet. Just when he leaned back down, thinking it was his paranoia, the whispering came again, clearer this time.

...Draco...

The blonde froze and turned pale at the sound of the hiss. Scene after scene raced across his mind. The slender, inhuman figure was standing before him, looking down at him with his fearful crimson eyes. The slit-like nose breathed calmly, with a twisted curve of his lips intended to be a smile. Those long, white fingers reached under the black cloak, searching, and finally took hold of what they were looking for and pointed its tip at him. Then came the sudden jolt of pain, like his body was ripped in half, and he heard his own screams over and over again.

"No..."He's not supposed to be here. He can't be here.

...Draco Malfoy...