A/N Written for the Quidditch league season six. Thanks to the Chudley Cannons for allowing me to be a reserve for them. I haven't managed to finish anything since having my baby but I found the prompts for this round inspiring. Thanks to insertcleverandwittytitlehere for the beta.

Quidditch league season six round ten

Team: Chudley Canons

Position: Beater 2 (reserve)

Prompt: Write about a character suffering from amnesia (or relevant memory impairment)

Additional prompts: (2) Potion vial, (5) If he's dead I'll kill him (6) Poisonous

Word count: 2830

Better best forgotten

"Draco Malfoy you conniving, poisonous, two-timing little…"

"Hey." Ron placed a hand on Harry's arm and pulled him back against the wall. "Trouble in paradise."

"Sounds like it." Harry strained his neck trying to see around the corner.

"Pansy sounds well scary," Ron muttered.

"I know." Harry leaned out further. "I wonder what Malfoy did."

"Well we won't find out if they see your fat head." Ron pulled Harry back once more.

"Pansy, I don't know what you're talking about…"

"I saw you myself and Blaise saw you too, so don't even try lying."

"I'm bored of this conversation." Draco's footsteps rang out on the flagstones quickly followed by the lighter tap of Pansy's.

"I saw you snogging bloody Astoria Greengrass at the top of the astronomy tower…"

"Pansy…"

There were the sounds of a scuffle. Malfoy gave a grunt, followed by the grinding sound of a staircase shifting then a series of thumps and a sickening crunch.

"Draco!" Pansy's wail attracted the attention of the entire assembled sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors who were waiting outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Draco! Draco! He's dead isn't he? Draco, I'm going to be in so much trouble if you're dead. Urgh I swear, if he's dead I'll kill him!"

Harry and Ron were only allowed a brief glimpse of Malfoy's crumpled body, his limbs bent at impossible angles and a puddle of blood forming behind his deathly pale face before Professor Snape swept onto the scene and shrouded his favourite pupil with his bat like robes.

Everything hurt. Draco lay still for several moments and acclimatised himself to the pain before he opened his eyes. Every object in the room was surrounded by a strange, golden halo. He cautiously sat up and took in his surroundings, blinking furiously. The room was familiar, he was certain he'd been here before, but he wasn't sure when.

A middle-aged witch entered the room and made her way towards him. She had a kindly look in her eyes, but her mouth was unsmiling.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, you're awake I see. You will be pleased to know I've repaired the fracture your friend managed to put in your thick head."

"Fracture?" Draco reached up to touch his aching head.

"There's nothing to feel," she said crisply. "I imagine Professor Snape will be along soon to discuss your punishment."

"Punishment?" Draco echoed.

"Of course." She frowned at him. "You didn't think you could get away with blatant brawling in the corridors did you?"

"I'm sorry." Draco mirrored her frown. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mr Malfoy," the witch came closer and placed a professional hand on Draco's forehead, "what exactly do you remember about what happened?"

The infirmary doors blew open and two wizards strode into the room. One was tall and thin with a large hooked nose and greasy black hair. His cold black eyes scanned the room with an intense watchfulness that Draco found rather disturbing. The other wizard was the complete opposite to his companion. His blue eyes held a twinkle and he made his way across the room at a relaxed pace, an indulgent smile playing over his lips.

"Ah, Headmaster, Professor Snape." Draco was surprised to hear the vague old man described as headmaster. He would have guessed the terrifying man in black would have been in charge.

The medi-witch was whispering with the two wizards now. Draco watched anxiously. Finally, the twinkly-eyed wizard approached the bed.

"Mr Malfoy, Madam Pomfrey informs me that you appear to be suffering from a touch of memory loss."

"Apparently so." Draco felt a strange sense of calm as he looked at the older wizard. The headmaster would take care of him, he knew it.

"Do you mind if I take a look?"

Draco shook his head as the elderly wizard drew his wand. "Legilimens."

The next time Draco awoke there was a woman sitting by his bed. She was beautiful with flawless pale skin and perfectly coiffed blonde hair secured beneath a tiny hat and artfully arranged veil. A single tear glistened on her left cheek. She looked vaguely familiar.

"Draco...oh Draco."

"...Mother?"

A look of joy bloomed across her features. "You recognise me?"

"Not really." Draco shrugged. "You look like me."

There were more tears and more hand holding, and then, "This can't change things, you know that, darling. You still have to kill Dumbledore."

"What?" Draco physically recoiled from her. Kill the kindly wizard who had sorted so delicately through his few remaining memories? Why on earth would he do that?

"The Dark Lord may accept a brief delay when he hears of you incapacity, but you must know he won't relieve you of your burden."

"Dark Lord?" Draco shook his head. He felt as if he had picked up a book half way through and was now struggling with an incomprehensible plot. His mother reached out an immaculately manicured hand and drew back the sleeve of Draco's pyjamas to reveal an ugly tattoo on his left forearm.

"What is that?!" Draco gazed in horror at the twisted skull and snake motif emblazoned on his skin.

"You really don't remember?" His mother's eyes filled with more tears. "Oh, Draco I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell you."

Draco made his way towards potions with a heavy heart. Pansy, who claimed to be his girlfriend, had been guiding him around the castle with a level of attentiveness Draco found to be frankly sickening. Her tour came with numerous cruel little asides directed towards their fellow pupils. There seemed to be very few other students who met her high standards and Draco wondered what she must say about him behind his back. He had realised fairly rapidly that he didn't actually need Pansy's guidance. If asked, he would be unable to provide directions to the Potions classroom, but if he allowed his feet to guide him he was usually able to find his way about without too much difficulty. He knew that Madam Pomfrey, the medi-witch, found the selective nature of his amnesia difficult to accept. Professor Dumbledore had simply taken it in his stride.

"My dear boy," he had said, "if your memory is meant to return then it will do so in its own good time. In the unlikely circumstances that it does not come back, then we must assume some things are better best forgotten." After his conversation with his mother, Draco was inclined to agree.

He stopped on the threshold of the Potions classroom and gazed around, his brow furrowed. He didn't recognise most of the students there and those he did know were already sitting in pairs. In fact, the only free seat was in the front row next to a brown haired girl wearing a red and gold Gryffindor tie. Draco felt himself blush a little as he sat down next to her. Her hair was dreadful, like a halo of unruly snakes, but her large brown eyes were kind and her finely-boned face was rather pretty.

"I'm Draco," he said as he took his seat. The girl glanced over to the next desk where two boys were sniggering and muttering quietly together.

"Hermione." She eventually reached out and took his proffered hand much to the apparent amusement of most of the class. Draco ignored the giggles and whispers and concentrated on finding a Potions text book in his satchel.

"You don't like me," Hermione hissed as she laid out her own books.

"What?"

"You don't like me. In fact you hate me, you would never have shaken my hand... before."

"Oh." Draco considered this for a minute. "What did you do?"

"Do?"

"To make me hate you?"

"I was born," Hermione muttered as she arranged her parchment and quills with obsessive tidiness on the desk in front of her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm Muggle-born," she said loud enough for everyone in the class to hear. "You don't like Muggle-borns. You think I'm a filthy abomination who doesn't deserve to be in this school."

"Do I?" Draco stared at her. Somehow he knew that he was a Pureblood wizard, that he was descended from a long line of Purebloods and that he didn't have much experience of Muggle-borns. He waited for a feeling of loathing to overwhelm him, nothing came. He gazed at Hermione. She looked like any other witch to him, except she was considerably more pretty. She was scowling at him.

"Do you want me to move?" he asked eventually.

"What?"

"Do you want me to move seats?"

She stared at him for several seconds. Eventually she shrugged. "I suppose not, you can sit there if you want."

It was strange what he could and couldn't remember. It turned out that Draco was pretty smart. Not quite as smart as Hermione to whom he came a close second in every class, but his studies and magical ability came easily. He couldn't have told anyone which of the Goblin Wars they were currently studying in History of Magic, but when asked to write an essay on the 14th rebellion, he was able to do so with no difficulty whatsoever. He remembered spells and wand movements without any problem, but ask him to name his classmates or tell you what he'd done during the summer holidays and he had no clue.

He didn't blame his classmates for treating him with a definite air of suspicion either. He was willing to admit it was pretty weird. What was also a little disturbing though was the fact that most people didn't seem to like him much and made little effort to hide their animosity. The two boys who usually hung around Hermione were case in point, both of them appeared to loathe him, and Draco wasn't quite brave enough to attempt to challenge their opinion. Indeed, the more his housemates told him of his past the more he began to dislike himself.

He entered the library as unobtrusively as possible. He had taken to studying there rather than the Slytherin Common Room. He liked the solitude. He was irritated to see that his favourite table in the Ancient Runes section was already occupied. After a moment's hesitation, he crossed the room and dropped his book bag onto the desk.

"Malfoy, you scared me." Hermione straightened the already neatly aligned parchment on her desk.

"Sorry." Draco began unloading his scrolls and parchment. Hermione stared at him for a moment before returning to her own work. Draco glanced over at the parchment in front of her.

"You've made a mistake."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes.

"There." He tapped the parchment in front of her. "That rune is to blame not to forgive; your entire paragraph is altered because of it.

"Oh." Hermione looked down at the area he indicated. "You're right," she said sounding rather surprised. "Thank you." She shot him a hesitant smile.

"You're welcome."

They studied in silence for the next half hour. The library was quiet but for the scratch of their quills on parchment and the odd cough from beyond the book shelves. Draco was surprised when Hermione broke the silence.

"So your memory hasn't come back yet."

He shook his head. "No. To be honest, I'm not really sure I want it to come back."

"Really?" She put down her quill and gave him her full attention. "Why?"

"It can't have escaped your notice that I'm not exactly popular around here." She didn't respond and after a moment he continued: "From what my housemates have told me, I wasn't a particularly nice person before I lost my memory."

Any hopes he had of her uttering a vehement denial were dashed as she gave a hesitant, "No."

"I'm supposed to kill Dumbledore." The words had come unbidden. They slipped from his mouth in a moment of inattention, but once they were out he couldn't take them back and they hung in the silence between him and the curly haired witch. She gaped at him.

"How do you know?" she finally asked.

"My mother told me. If I don't kill him then he... Voldemort, will hurt my parents... and me," he felt compelled to add, he could hardly claim to be selfless.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione glanced around the library, her eyes wide.

"I don't know. I had to tell someone." Draco's fingers went unbidden to the sleeve of his left arm where he knew the hideous tattoo was glaring up malevolently at him. "I feel like I've just woken up in the plot of a horror story, and I'm on the wrong side and I don't know what to do about it."

Hermione twisted her quill between ink stained fingers. "Are you going to do it?" she asked.

"What? No!" Draco stared at her in horror. "Aside from anything else, he's the most powerful wizard alive and I'm a sixteen year old school boy, do you honestly think I could kill him?"

Hermione was frowning. "It does seem like a poor plan," she admitted. "No offence, but you wouldn't be my first choice of assassin."

"None taken." Draco lapsed into silence and doodled on his parchment.

"Have you told anyone else?" Hermione asked.

"No. I tried to speak to Professor Snape, but he kept giving me half answers and making all these cryptic statements. I couldn't tell whose side he was on."

"Ours," Hermione said shortly, "but that doesn't mean he can help you, he can't risk blowing his cover. You need to tell Dumbledore."

"What!?" Draco stared at her. "I can't just waltz up to the headmaster and tell him that I've been employed by his arch enemy to kill him."

"Yes you can. He'll be grateful to you for sharing the information. Besides -" Hermione fixed him with her big brown eyes "- what other choice do you have?"

Dumbledore was no help whatsoever. "Well my boy," he said. "You must do whatever you think is right." He crunched beatifically on a lemon drop.

"What?" Draco stared at him. "What if I decide that killing you is the right thing to do?"

"We all have to die at some point." Dumbledore inclined his head. "I will not falter when my time comes."

"Can't you offer me something more than that?" Draco asked. "Can't you protect me and my family?"

"I'm afraid not." Dumbledore appeared genuinely regretful. "As long as you remain within the walls of the castle, you are safe, but I cannot extend my influence to your parents. And even if I could I doubt they would accept my help."

Draco didn't know where to turn. He couldn't believe that he had so readily accepted such a task before the loss of his memories.

"But you didn't." Hermione told him when they met again in the library. "You've looked miserable all term, almost ill. It's been eating you up inside, I know it has." Draco wished he could believe her.

It seemed like fate. It was the very same staircase, the same time of day, and Draco was on his way to the very same class when he tripped. Images blurred before his eyes, before the flagstones came up towards him, his head cracked against the stone and he lost consciousness.

He remembered everything. It had been a relief at first to have his memories back. He had welcomed his ingrained hatred of Granger, the Mudblood. It all made sense now. Except there was something wrong. His old persona was overlaid with his new memories. The way he hadn't much liked his Slytherin friends. The kindness Dumbledore had shown him, and the way Hermione had shyly smiled at him when he had corrected her homework. She had been kind to him. Almost the only one to give him a chance despite the fact that he had treated her abominably in the past. He longed for the peace of his amnesia, when good and bad had been obvious even if he had somehow ended up on the wrong side.

"Are you sure about this?" Professor Snape held the potion vial out of Draco's reach. "This elixir will permanently erase your memories. No blow to the head or charm will bring them back. Once they are gone they are gone for good."

"I understand." Draco forced himself to meet the Potion Master's eyes.

"What will you do?" Snape asked curiously. "Once your slate is wiped clean."

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. There's no point in me knowing, is there? It's not like I'll remember what I've got planned. I just know I can't live with all this bitterness, all this hatred, not when you can take it away."

A strange look flickered across Snape's face but he held out the vial without further question. Draco hesitated for only a moment before he raised the bottle to his lips and permanently erased his entire past.