Shades of Grey
10. Lies and Slander

Disclaimer: These stopped being necessary a long time ago. Yet I still write them. Bitterness over not owning a thing.
Author's Note: Isn't it great when I actually write and update?

Rose watched Draco's retreating figure, which was slightly obscured by Crabbe and Goyle who were lumbering alongside. His cloak blew out behind him as the wind grew stronger. He pulled his hood up over his ears, head bent against the current. She heard Daphne cluck her tongue impatiently behind her. She tore her gaze away from Draco and looked at her.

"What?" Rose asked.

"Nothing."

"No, it's clearly something. Speak your mind."

"I'm just wondering what's going on with you and Draco," Daphne said.

"What do you mean?"

"You were out all night with him yesterday, for instance."

"So?"

"So I'm a little confused; you're not telling me anything anymore. Are you sleeping together?"

"No!" she cried defensively. Daphne shrugged. "We're not. Really."

"So then, what?"

"Why are you suddenly so curious?" Rose asked.

"Because you two obviously have something going on that you're not telling me."

"Don't you worry, Daphne. If anything happens there, you will be the first to know."

"I better be."

Rose laughed and led Daphne away in the direction of the Common Room. As they walked, Rose replayed her time with Draco in her head, realizing that to anyone but themselves, it would look like something was going on. The way they snuck out at night, shared silent exchanges across classrooms, laughed at jokes no one understood, fought about things that made little sense. Yes, to anyone else it would definitely seem like something was going on. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, what with them being betrothed, but she hated having Daphne think she was keeping secrets from her best friend, of all people. She would tell her in a heartbeat, but there was nothing to tell. Everything going on between her and Draco had to do with the Vanishing Cabinet, and it was most certainly not her place to talk about that to anyone. She watched as Daphne threw her school bag on her bed in frustration, and wished she could tell her everything right then and there. But she knew she couldn't, no matter how much she craved a confidante.

"Daphne, I'm going to skip dinner," Rose announced, rummaging through her trunk. "I need to go talk to Malfoy."

She sighed. "What are you not telling me, Rosie?"

"Nothing! Honestly, it's nothing. I just need to ask him something."

"And you can't do that while planted firmly on the ground?" She nodded toward the Cleansweep in Rose's hand.

"Nope," she replied, walking out.

. . .

"MALFOY!" she yelled, looking up at the sky where Draco was flying around. Crabbe and Goyle approached her as if to scare her off, but she just glared at them. They faltered for a moment, then stood their ground, not advancing. Draco touched down after a minute, looking surprised to see her.

"What're you doing here?"

She nodded towards Crabbe and Goyle. "Can we be alone for a minute?"

"Go have dinner," he ordered them. They looked beyond happy as they scampered off in the direction of the castle and its delicious food.

"You brought your broom," he stated; not asking why, just observing.

She nodded. "Can we fly for a bit? I haven't decided what I want to say yet."

He looked at her in confusion, then mounted his broom and took off. She followed suit. They flew in circles around the pitch, the goal posts, and each other for a while. She wondered why she had come there. Something about her thoughts made her want to see him. Something about her conversation. But she didn't know what. There was something nagging at her, telling her to be there, but she had nothing to say. She actually feared touching down to the ground because she didn't know what to expect, and was worried that whatever happened wouldn't be good. Would it be different than in the Room, even though they were alone? He would probably act like a complete jerk, and she would walk back to the castle alone feeling awful. It was this that kept her in the air. It was the fear of landing and having to face Draco with not a word to say, hearing him tell her not to waste his time, and to stay away from him.

Whenever he flew close to her, she would jerk her broom in the other direction to avoid him. This was pointless. Briefly, she contemplated just turning and flying back to the castle; that would be a sure way of avoiding confrontation. But it would make it a hundred times more awkward later on. Why, why, why did she come here? What made her want to? She tried to think back again. Daphne said something to her, and then she thought something, and then she did something. A lot of somethings resulting in even more nothings. Maybe, she thought, what she wanted would suddenly come to her when she stood there to talk to him. Deciding this was the best she could do, Rose motioned Draco downward, and they both descended.

"You've got quite a bit of talent on that broom, Martell," Draco commended as he wiped a sheen of sweat from his forhead, despite the cool night. "Ever think of taking up Quidditch?"

She allowed herself a laugh. "Thanks, but it's one thing to know how to fly, another entirely to be able to catch and throw at the same time."

"Fair enough," he agreed with a chuckle. "So what can I do you for?"

She hesitated. A moment passed in which she stared at the ground. "I'm not really sure why I came here, Draco," she finally admitted.

"Well that's...weird."

"Yeah, quite a bit. I've just been thinking."

"About me, no doubt," he offered smugly.

"Uh-huh," replied Rose, rolling her eyes. "You're right, but not just about you. About us. In general."

"There's an us?"

"Well, yeah. You plus me equals us. It's called the English language, Draco. Look it up."

"Right," he nodded. "What about us?"

"People are starting to wonder about what we're up to. And by people, I mean Daphne. I don't really lie to her, Draco; she's my best mate. But I have nothing to tell her here. You're so bent on keeping this whole thing a giant secret, but I don't think you realize that we've been sneaking around a whole lot, acting very private. What are people supposed to think? What are we supposed to tell them?"

"Merlin, you have quite a lot going on in that tiny little head of yours, don't you? It's none of anyone else's busines. And if you recall, we're supposed to be engaged," he reminded her, stepping closer. "I think it's perfectly acceptable for us to be sneaking around together, don't you think?"

"And Daphne?" Rose pressed, taking a step back. "What about her?"

"Lie to her."

"No."

"You have no choice," he said, walking forward. "This is important. More important than anything. She can't know; she doesn't need to. Just let it go. She'll get over it, I'm sure."

"Yeah, but—"

"Let it go," he repeated.

Was he really close to her, or was she hallucinating? No, no, he was really close to her. She could feel his breath on her face. And smell it. Which was less attractive. It smelled like licorice. She didn't care for licorice. But somehow she was suddenly more concerned about the smell of her own breath than his. What was the last thing she ate? She was chewing on a Sugar Quill earlier in class today. And after that? She couldn't remember. Merlin, she hoped she smelled like Sugar Quills and not something completely disgusting.

"Still alive in there, Rose?" he asked suddenly.

She realized she had gotten lost in her awkward thoughts about breath. He chuckled at her. "Fine, I'll keep it from Daphne. I'll lie, whatever. What's the story, then? She thinks we're sleeping together."

He shrugged. "So tell her we are."

"Oh no. I'm definitely not doing that."

"And why not?" The volume of his voice dropped several notches.

"B-because we're not," she stuttered. For a second, she wanted to roll her eyes at herself. Did she really stutter? When does that happen?

He chuckled again. "Well we could start. That way you wouldn't have to lie to her," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

Rose groaned in annoyance, and took a step back. "Why do you have to be such an idiot?" she asked.

"What? Did I spoil the moment?" he mocked. "'B-b-b-b-b-ecause, Draaaco!'"

He laughed at his horrid and over-exaggerated impression of her. She scowled at him. She should have known. Typical Malfoy. She sighed, picked up her broom, and turned to go.

"Wait up, Martell," he called, still laughing. He jogged up beside her. "I was joking. Calm down."

"You're a pig, Malfoy. Leave me alone."

"Touchy."

She ignored him and kept walking. Why she bothered, she didn't even know. She stood there and contemplated the smell of his breath, for Merlin's sake. How pathetic can a person possibly be for that to happen? She could just about kick herself. She could still hear Draco chuckling to himself just a few paces behind her. Rose gripped the handle of her broom so tightly, she imagine it snapping like a twig in her grasp. Good thing she didn't have that kind of strength. If she did, she might have punched Malfoy across the jaw. Come to think of it...

"Martell, slow down," Draco said, interrupting her thoughts. "You're not seriously mad at me, are you? I was just fucking around."

"Glad you were enjoying yourself," she replied, the acid in her voice burned a hole on her tongue.

Draco suddenly grabbed her arm, and turned her to face him. She glared at him with such hatred that hell itself would have frozen over had she not been focusing all of her attention on freezing the insides of the boy in front of her. She suspected his heart was already so cold and dead, it was having no affect. He kept his grip on her arm, not tight or restraining, but just there. He looked her face over, trying to figure out what she was thinking, she supposed. It shouldn't have been hard. Her feelings were pretty plainly displayed. Hatred, hatred, hatred.

"You fancy me," he announced suddenly.

She blinked. It took a moment to process that this in no way was the same as hatred. "I beg your pardon?"

"You fancy me," he repeated, slower this time.

"Do I?" inquired Rose. "And how do you figure this?"

"Because I'm a lot more clever than you give me credit for. It's fine, though. I think it's charming that you fancy me."

"Charming."

"Yeah, charming. Though I hope you know this gives me a huge advantage over you."

"What are you talking about?"

As if demonstrating, he stepped right up to her, and leaned his face down to hover inches from her own. He paused there, his breath growing shallow. His warm, sweet, licorice breath. How she hated licorice. His hand came up to rest on the crook between her neck and shoulder while the other pulled her right against him. She froze, waiting for the kiss she knew would inevitably come. To her surprise, she found she wanted him to kiss her, but didn't have the motor ability to lean forward and do it herself. He looked in her eyes, and she looked back into his. They were grey, with just the faintest shade of blue. Quite a contrast from her brown ones. Though, she often liked to refer to them as exciting colours with names like chestnut or chocolate. It made them sound less plain. But compared to his orbs of melted silver, they were nothing but stupid and brown. Oh dear. Not the time to get into thoughts about her eyes now. What a depressing topic. She focused back on his eyes. His eyelids began to drop over them, and she followed suit. His lips were so close, she swore she could feel them, but they hadn't touched yet.

"And that, my dear, is what I'm talking about," he said suddenly, pulling away.

Rose stumbled backward, but caught herself before doing something embarassing like falling over. Draco looked at her smugly, and she slapped him. Yeah, she did it. The moment she did, she regretted it, and flinched against the strike that he would return. But he didn't hit her. He just continued to smirk like he had won a very difficult game and was too proud of himself to let anything ruin it.

"What is the matter with you?" she growled. He laughed, and she walked the rest of the way up to the castle alone, fuming.

. . .

Rose was a drug addict. Plain and simple. Because there was no other explanation as to why she insisted on coming back again and again. She was clearly out of her mind, and on drugs. What would make her do it? Why? Was she crazy? Or just masochistic? Maybe a bit of both. And also definitely on drugs. She concluded this with a nod as she sat in her usual place in the Room, watching Draco work on the cabinet. Her eyes lingered a little too long on him as he bent over to look at the Cabinet's floor. She looked away, blushing at having caught herself. Now she was just being ridiculous.

"Enjoying the show?" he asked, shaking his arse for emphasis.

"Very funny, Malfoy. I wasn't even looking at you."

"I'm sure you weren't," he replied, the smirk evident in his voice.

She yawned. "Are we almost done for tonight?"

"We are never done," he answered.

"That's a yes. Let's go to bed." She stood.

"Together?" he said suggestively.

"Get a grip, Malfoy."

"A nice firm one. On you."

She rolled her eyes. He winked at her. Shaking her head, Rose began navigating the familiar path out of the Room, with Draco following closely behind. His arms unexpectedly wrapped around her waist, and his lips leaned down to her ear.

"How long are you going to deny this?" he asked.

She pushed him away. "For as long as I don't fancy you. So it might be a while."

"You're not fooling anyone," he said in a sing-song voice.

"I don't know," she said, turning around. "You don't sound so sure of yourself."

"Well that can't be right, because I am very sure of myself. Face it, you can't resist me. Not that I blame you, of course."

"Tell me, is your head naturally that big, or do you cast engorgement charms every morning so it'll match your ego?"

"I'm naturally big," he stated. The double meaning was not missed.

They walked back to the Common Room without speaking much after that. The Common Room was empty, the fire smoldering, waiting for the house elves to come and tend to it. She wondered when they managed to get that done. She's never seen them do their job before. Sneaky little creatures.

"Goodnight, then, Martell," Draco said with a smirk. "Dream of me."

"I'll be sure not to," she said as he disappeared into the passageway of his dormitory. She retreated to her own and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

A/N: Those things that people call reviews. I hear they're really nice to get. This might just be a rumour, but I say it's worth a try.