Chapter 21: Amnesia and Detention
...
Draco woke with a start. A freakish amount of red and gold met his eyes, still hazy from sleep.
Where the hell am I?
A yelp bludgeoned his lethargic ears. A small boy he vaguely recognized as Euan Abercondy-or-Attercrombie-or-something, who appeared to have been visiting the lavatory as he was still in his nightshirt, was staring at him fearfully.
"What- what are you doing in here?"
"What do you mean what am I doing here," Draco snapped, annoyed. Then it started to sink in, as he glanced around at the lion crests and the finely upholstered scarlet furniture.
He was in the Gryffindor common room.
But how did I get here?
He struggled to recall what he had done the previous evening, but the memories eluded him.
Vaguely impressed with himself for breaking into the Gryffindor common room without knowing the password or indeed having any recollection of doing so, he rolled off the couch and stretched briefly. Ignoring the stunned and pajama-clad boy, he strolled over to the portrait hole and let himself out.
...
Over the next few hours, Draco's day got even stranger. Which, given the state he woke up in, was remarkable in itself.
He received odd looks from people he didn't even know, a friendly "hello" from a Ravenclaw he had never seen in his life, and a downright dirty look from Pansy Parkinson across the breakfast table.
What is going on? Has everyone gone mad?
Maybe he was still dreaming. He surreptitiously jabbed himself in the leg with his fork.
Nope.
Even though it was only ten in the morning, Draco found himself exhausted. Since it was Saturday, there was no harm in taking a leisurely nap until lunch. Getting up from the table, he ignored the heated stares of his fellow Slytherins and plodded down to the dungeon.
Reaching the correct segment of bare stone wall, he said, "Oligarchy."
Nothing happened.
Draco coughed a little, clearing his throat, and said loudly, "Oligarchy."
Nothing happened.
Had the password changed? Surely he would have heard something if it had.
Perturbed, he paced back and forth in front of the stone wall, thinking hard about when the password had changed, and why no one had bothered to inform him.
He was having difficulty remembering anything, actually. Maybe someone had spiked his pumpkin juice.
Suddenly, the wall slid back. Two heavyset boys fought to get through first, their broad shoulders blocking the entire frame.
"Crabbe, Goyle!" Draco said, relieved. They looked at him suspiciously.
"You talking to us again, then?" Goyle rumbled.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Crabbe crossed his arms, with difficulty since they were both still wedged into the doorway. "What happened with mmmfmrn? You two split nerfnner?"
A weird ringing had started in Draco's ear, and he was having difficulty concentrating on what Crabbe was saying. Half the words sounded far away, and the other half sounded like nonsense. Although the nonsense bits sounded almost like "you're a prat, you're a prat."
Draco would have chalked all this up to a practical joke, except that he wasn't sure Crabbe and Goyle had the mental capacity to pull it off.
"What are you doing, you idiots? Stop messing around"
The hulking boys glanced at each other, then walked away without another word. They did make a point of knocking into Draco on their way by, though.
Completely nonplussed, Draco stepped through the door before it closed and went up the stairs to the sixth-year dorm. Thankfully, it was deserted.
Rubbing his eyes drowsily, he pulled off his robes and was at the point of tossing them over a chair when- Draco sniffed. What was that smell? He brought the fabric closer to his nose and inhaled. Vanilla?
Great. I can't remember anything about last night, but everyone's pissed at me, and now I smell like a girl.
Draco shoved all of that out of his mind, and flopped down on his four-poster bed. Pulling the emerald sheets over his head, he sleepily thought that everything would make sense after his nap.
...
It didn't.
When he woke up, there was a pink detention slip resting on top of his trunk.
'Offending Party: Draco Malfoy
Offense: Leaving house common room and wandering grounds after hours, defacing school property
Punishment: Greenhouse maintenance with Professor Sprout
Date: Saturday, 7pm
Signed: Argus Filch'
Draco was almost beginning to get used to this odd feeling of amnesia. Almost.
So, at seven o'clock, Draco made his way across the damp lawn to the greenhouses.
Just as he was walking through the entry hall, where Filch was scrubbing something off the Hufflepuff banner and shooting him nasty looks, Snape materialized out of nowhere (Draco needed to have him fitted for a bell or something, because this was ridiculous) and pulled Draco down a disused hallway.
"I won't pretend that it was easy, but I have been able to convince the Dark Lord that you are not completely worthless. He has consented to allow you another month, until the week before semester's end. No one, not even your dear mother, could say that I have not done all I could to help you. So do not expect anything more. Are we clear?"
Draco tried to keep from rolling his eyes at this newest piece of "what the hell is that supposed to mean," and arranged his face in a bored expression. "Do I ever expect more than cryptic advice and bad hairstyles from you, Severus?"
Snape then did a very convincing impression of a Graphorn, and then stalked off. Once the last of his robe had swirled around the corner, Draco lifted a hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed it in an attempt to ward off the dull ache mounting in his left temple.
...
Thanks to Snape, he was now running a few minutes late, and as he approached the greenhouses, Professor Sprout was already giving instructions to a bushy-haired girl.
Draco groaned inwardly. Why was Granger in detention, anyway?
"You're late," Professor Sprout said shortly.
"I know, I'm sorry Professor… Peeves."
Shaking her head, she said, "As I was explaining to Miss Granger here, I would like you to water the plants in Greenhouse 3, and feed the venomous tentacula. There should be a box in the supply closet marked 'tentacula food.' When you are finished, you may leave. But Merlin help you if you do a shoddy job. Are we clear?"
"Yes, professor," Draco said flatly.
The short woman disappeared into the first greenhouse, and Draco and Hermione entered the third. It was warm enough to be slightly uncomfortable in the greenhouse, so Draco pulled off his robes and hung them over a chair.
Broad jets of sparkling water were already shooting out of Hermione's wand and showering the thirsty plants. Draco did the same, and soon the small building was full of the sound of rushing water. It was calming.
Hermione, however, seemed on edge. Her eyes were puffy, and she was avoiding him more than usual.
Which was fine with him.
After all the plants had been thoroughly hydrated, Hermione tucked her wand into her robes and went to find the storage closet. She came back with a large cardboard box, from which rustling and thumping noises could be heard. She looked slightly ill as she opened it, and pulled out a white, wriggling mouse.
Draco mutely watched her.
She approached the writhing plant, but then suddenly dropped the mouse back into the box and turned away.
"You do it."
Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Not likely."
She looked at him desperately, her eyes shining like she was about to burst into tears. Sighing heavily, Draco snatched the box out of her hands. Their fingers brushed, and a weird warmth spread throughout his body.
Blasted greenhouses, hot as hell.
He grimly tossed a few mice at the plant, which greedily snapped them up out of the air. He then returned the box to the storage closet.
When he returned, Hermione was still standing in the same spot, looking gloomy. Draco pulled his robes back on and opened the greenhouse door. A cooling breeze ruffled his hair.
"Thanks."
Draco looked over his shoulder. "It's detention. You'd probably tell on me if I didn't do my share."
As it was late and they were both headed back to the castle, they ended up walking together awkwardly.
"So what did you do to get in detention, anyway, Granger?"
Hermione jumped a little at the sound of his voice, then stammered, "I, uh… I was out after hours."
"Really? Doing what? Studying?"
"Um… yes. Studying in the library after hours."
He could tell she was lying, and he was mildly interested in the truth, but they had reached the entrance hall, and Hermione dashed up the stairs before he could say anything else.