Draco was staring at me as if I had turned into a three-headed dog as I went over to tend to his wounds.
"Close your mouth please, it's mildly frightening with you gaping like that." Draco had the good grace, and pureblood teachings, to pull his composure back, though his cheeks were tinged pink. Who knew the ice prince could feel anything other than selfishness, let alone embarrassment? Surely not I, I knew he had changed after the war, repented and started atoning for his mistakes, but I thought once a Malfoy always a Malfoy. Though I suppose his father's imprisonment in Azkaban must have been hard on him. I truly believed that Voldemort's followers all belong in that hellish place, though the Ministry felt Draco's hand had been forced so he remained free. It was the least that could be done, to lock them all away, for those who had lost everything because of them. I should know, my father stood in one of those cells, and it was my testimony that put him there. I feel no remorse for sentencing my father a fate worse than death, but my mother's disownment from taking her beloved husband away from her made my heart ache. I tried to push those thoughts away as grabbed a cleansing potion from the bedside table. I slipped my wand out of my robes and conjured a chair to sit myself close to Draco, but not have to sit on the bed with him. I grabbed a piece of gauze, poured some of the potion on it and held my hand out. Draco just stared at it like he had never seen such a thing in his life, which I would hope he had, seeing as he had two hands himself.
"This will go much quicker if you give me your hand to treat, you know." He pulled his injured hand closer to his chest.
"Why would you help me? After all you just said why do you care?"
"Care about you? I don't, but Pomfrey doesn't want to deal with you, so I'm stuck here. So just give me your hand so I can get on with this. I have more important things to do with my time than look after spoiled gits such as yourself." He tentatively held his hand out to me so I dabbed the potion onto the broken skin on his knuckles. He drew in a hiss of breath as the cleansing potion stung his wounds, which I had to smirk a bit at.
"Serves you right for fighting with that Gryffendork." He was staring at me again. It was as if he had never seen a human before. What was wrong with him? Had he been looked in a broom cupboard his whole life?
"You're a Slytherin." I sat there dumbstruck for a moment, my hands paused on his.
"Deduce that yourself? Aren't you brilliant, what gave me away? Was it the green and silver tie? Or perhaps the Slytherin insignia on my robes?" He turned pink again, but kept looking.
"Why have I not seen you before?" Did he really not remember? He used to pick on me nearly every day for my first four years of going to Hogwarts. Before he had let those monsters into the school and killed Dumbledore. I just stared back at him. How could the person who had made my life a living hell for years not even recognize me? An empty vase two beds down exploded making Draco jump a foot in the air. Sometimes I hate being a witch, whenever my temper started to get out of control I couldn't control my powers. I sighed as he looked fearfully at the glass shards. It had been months since that had happened, and I thought I was finally getting my temper under control.
"You…you just… it blew up…" His eyes were glued to the shattered remains of the vase.
"Yes, it blew up Malfoy." I set down the gauze and grabbed the splint from the table as well as some clean bandages.
"You blew it up." I cast Repairo silently, one of the few spells I was very good at, comes with the uncontrolled powers.
"Better? Now can I have your hand back?" He stared at me with wide eyes, not moving an inch.
"Why?" He slowly held his hand out to me.
"Why what?" I grabbed his hand and rolled back his sleeve so I could lash the splint to his arm.
"Why did you blow it up?" He looked a bit less afraid.
"I was angry." I started wrapping the bandages trying to take deep calm breaths.
"But why are you angry?" I kept my eyes on his hand.
"Do you really not know?"
"No, I don't know why you are angry." I looked up at him. His blonde brows were furrowed.
"No, I meant do you really not know who I am?" He looked harder at me, but shook his head.
"Do you not know why I might hate my own house, you, and Parkinson?" The puzzled look on his face grew as I talked. I tied of his bandages and reached for the 'Skele-gro' potion and handed it to him. "I was mad because though you made my first four years here miserable, you still have no idea who I am. Apparently I am that invisible, that people who go out of their way to ruin my day don't even remember me. Drink the potion Malfoy." He didn't drink it. He just kept staring at me trying to figure out who I was. He had teased me for so many things growing up, my glasses, which I no longer wore because of him, my plain straight brown hair, that I tied in a braid at night to give me prettier waves , my family not being wealthy, my freckles, not dressing in the latest fashion, being shy and quiet. You name it and he teased me for it. It was so bad I would avoid my common room to hide from the jeers and hexes that were sure to come my way if I were to study there. Though that was how I ended up working in the Hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey, but I don't think he deserved thanks for that.
"What's your name?" I sighed, he wasn't going to drink the bloody thing until I caved and told him.
"Rose." Was all I said as I grabbed the bruise salve that Harry had left on his bed and began putting it on Draco's black-eye.
"I meant your surname." I froze. I don't have a surname, not anymore. It was stripped from me when I was disowned. I had even stopped going by my full name in an attempt to disconnect myself from my family and their dark ties.
"Just Rose, no surname."
"If you don't have a surname how am I suppose to remember you?" I didn't think that I had changed so much over the years that my surname would suddenly bring back his memory of me.
"Maybe you aren't, maybe you were meant to forget me. Maybe it's better this way. Better that I'm invisible." I stood and crossed the room snatching my cloak off the rack and pushing open the doors escaping into the corridors before he could see the tears welling up in my eyes. I thought I had grown use to being invisible. After he left and the mocking stopped, it was like I had never been there to start with. I heard him call out my name as I took off running down the stairs towards the dungeons. I stopped at the entrance to my common room. I couldn't face my housemates like this. In Slytherin you could not show any weakness, or else they would eat you alive. Everything was about power and dominance. I turned on my heel and ran back up the stairs walking through empty corridors.
I found myself in front of a door that led outside onto the grounds. The doors in front of me were pristine and unmarked, but that was not the door I saw in my mind. In my mind I saw the same door blasted open by Death Eaters. This had been where I had fought alongside of other students and even a teacher. This is where we had tried to keep more Death Eaters out of the castle, including my father. This was where I had turned my back on my whole family. This was the last place that been repaired flawlessly over the summer. The whole castle had been securely restored, but all I saw was the carnage and broken stones from that night. They haunted my dreams and made me wonder how no one else seemed to see them anymore. Other than a small stone monument outside everyone went on as if the world had not been torn apart at the seams. They lived and laughed as if everything was suddenly fixed. No more Voldemort. No more worries. I leaned against the wall and slid down to the cold stone floor waiting for my housemates to go to sleep so I could enter my dorm in peace.