I was awake by 6am on Friday. My neck was burning as usual, and I was beginning to normalize the horrible sensation. It seemed to be pulsing more and more as the days passed by and I had to keep gritting my teeth every day. Now that I knew however, I woke up to acknowledge it with a dead feeling inside. It was as though responding defensively to it before made more sense because I'd had hopes that it would fade or be curable. Now, I was stuck with it and my fate felt sealed. I stared at the glossy green canopy like a zombie.
The night before was rough. I had cried for a few hours, shoving Hilda's questions away until she had eventually left me to be. Then the rage had begun spreading in my heart and tunneling through my veins.
How could he allow us to get together knowing what he knew? He had barely tried to warn me. He WANTED this didn't he? How could he be such a coward and run away for the whole entire week knowing I would be there with the back of my skull burning? Did he think he could avoid me forever? What if he didn't want me and that was why he had left? What if he didn't even remember the night? Did his family know? Was I being called a whore? What was going to happen to Astoria?
The torment had grown into an unspeakable ball of anger, writhing in my being and keeping me awake until at least 1am. Now I was there awake at 6am - five meager hours later, and I was going to suffer in classes and in the Quidditch game from exhaustion. I decided not to fight it anymore and shoved my silky green sheets off.
I made my way to the lavatory in a long turquoise lace dress and took a deep breath. I had brought an ornate, gold hand mirror from my great grandmother and slowly lifted my left hand holding the mirror and turned around. I aligned the mirror in front of my face and shifted my blond hair aside.
There it was: a highly intricate shield with black and green colors blossoming across my neck. The large silver 'M' in the center almost appeared to be raised off of my skin. It wavered with animation as if in the wind, and I covered it with my hair quickly. I took a deep breath and sighed heavily, pursing my lips, willing myself not to panic or cry. What was done was done.
I slept through much of my Transfiguration class, earning Slytherin a deduction of ten house points. I didn't even flinch as my house mates glared at me on the way out. The nap had invigorated my deteriorated body. Fawley had sent me a sympathetic glance when McGonagall decided to scold me publicly.
I dressed for Quidditch, quickly repairing the outfit to an appropriate standard since Hilda had worn it. I stared at myself in the ornate mirror dreading the reaction of my team mates when they realized I wasn't going to put my hair up. I had considered a few options to conceal the mark. I had tried glamour charms, a low pony-tail, even muggle makeup. It seemed to have a mind of it's own as it burned right through the glamour charms and makeup, the pony-tail only proved to be useless due to uncontrollable shifting of the hair.
On the way down to the icy pitch I sighed against the harsh wind and with anticipation of the dreadful interaction with the boys. Would Malfoy show up? He was the only seeker AND the team captain after all. When a seeker didn't show up it meant that someone inexperienced would have to sub in and we were likely doomed from the get go.
A few younger years pushed past me as they ran down to the pitch early. I glared at them with evil eyes but the boys just stuck their tongues out at me and continued on.
When I reached the bottom and joined my team they grew suspiciously quiet upon my arrival. A few of them stared at the ground and some of them just stared at me. Nobody questioned that several feet of my long hair was blowing around my shoulders. I cringed and bent to tighten my boots in the eerie silence. Warrington cleared his throat loudly. Everyone turned to look.
Finally, someone broke the seal. A boy two years below us with dirty blond hair sat up with annoyance, "Where is Malfoy? Shouldn't he be here? The game is starting in ten minutes!"
"Shut up!" Warrington scathed defending his mate, baring his unsightly teeth, "He'll be here when he'll be here!" His eyes darted quickly over to me with a dark, provoking look and I narrowed my eyes back at him.
"Shouldn't your uh, hair, be up Desrosiers?' Montague ridiculed me from the pack, "Don't you want to see if there's a bludger coming? I heard there was gonna be scouts at this game. Shame if you missed an opportunity just so you could let your hair loose." Montague stepped forward towards me with a vicious sneer on his face, dragging his black and battered broom behind him. He knew. He knew quite well why my hair was down and he was taunting me.
"Leave her be," A dark, villainous voice came out of nowhere. Several of the boys were shoved aside like the Red Sea as Malfoy pushed his way through the group. His blonde hair blew back in the icy wind and his light blue eyes looked unforgiving, "Snape will have any one of your daft skulls on a plate if you even think about offending her. You know the rules. Go get ready at the gate!"
Montague just laughed at Malfoy, who gave him a murderous look in return. We aligned at the gate in our usual lineup. I stood beside Malfoy at the front, my heart racing. I tried tucking my long hair down into the back of my hood so it would possibly stay somewhat in place. He was stealing sideways glances at me with a stony face.
"What?" I asked defensively with my arms raised, clumsily shoving locks of hair into my clothing. The anger in my voice went unconcealed, "Do you 'ave a better idea?"
"Maybe try a hair tie." He said brutally without making eye contact, "I hear silk is good quality,"
My nose shriveled in rage, "We need to talk after dis. I'm not taking no for an answer, Malfoy."
"Careful saying my name like that, princess. It might mean something to you someday." His cold and lifeless tone caused me to sharply inhale.
It was silent in the gateway tunnel for a few very long and painful seconds, save for the pounding of the crowd against the rails, the clapping of thousands of hands, and screaming. My focus was so divided going into this game that I had the sudden desire to "accidentally" hit my head off of the goal rings and get sent to the hospital to escape.
"We'll talk. Later. Focus." Malfoy's stern voice finally cut through my mind as if reading it. His white glove suddenly reached across and shoved something into my glove. I opened it slowly to reveal pointed green leaves.
My eyes searched his questioningly and he lowered his voice, hardly looking at me, "It will help with the burning. I'm giving you an order to focus for this game. Chew it now and stop staring at me." I chewed it and felt an icy feeling spreading across my whole head. My throat was burning from the cold but not in an unbearable way. Slowly the chill spread across my forehead, across my skull and down my neck, soothing the Malfoy Crest into oblivion. I felt physically relaxed for the first time in a week.
The horn blew and suddenly we were running out and mounting our brooms. The game was fast and aggressive given the presence of the scouts in the visitor's box. I had to block bludger after bludger, at least twelve in the first ten minutes alone. I almost let three get by due to slow reactions and Malfoy cursed at me to get it together. When the chasers had moved down to the Gryffindor end of the pitch I had a moment of peace. I saw Harry hovering in the center of the field, Malfoy wasn't far from him. Both of their eyes searched frantically for the snitch while simultaneously keeping each other in their fields of view.
Suddenly they were yelling - at each other. Malfoy moved closer to Harry with an outraged and defensive look on his face, his white-gloved finger was pointing in my direction repeatedly, his face scrunched up. Harry looked like if he was capable of doing it, he would melt Malfoy with his eyes alone. Harry had always had an impressive yell and he was giving it all he had.
Suddenly a bludger was barreling across the field oblivious to either of the boys. I positioned myself directly in front of the center ring to block it and watched in horror as it collided with the ends of both of their brooms knocking them off. Malfoy was able to hang on somehow, he was dangling by both arms from the broom. Harry was not so fortunate and the crowd screamed in horror as a flurry of red robes shot like an arrow towards the green grass several hundred meters below.
I made to abandon my post and dipped my broom hard towards the ground. My broom was newer and faster than anyone else's besides Malfoy's and I squinted against the maximum speed it was capable of, my eyes wept with tears. I had caught up with his angle and I could catch him, I was sure of it. I looked up as his robes came into view and then suddenly I screamed from the back of my head burning worse than it ever had before. I was blind from the pain. Something collided with my shoulder and knocked me off my broom, I felt the spiral of air and the timeless reality of falling. Then, I was winded on the ground, staring through blurred, rotating vision at the bright sky. Blobs of green floated above me. My bones felt shattered, and then, blackness...
I could hear voices. Panic and harried responses, things were shuffling around me rapidly.
A woman's frantic tone, "Get her on this bed here. Careful, careful! She's broken several ribs. I can't say for sure what else is damaged until I can do a diagnostic. No! No don't get the dittany first I need a hand on this side. That's it."
Another voice flooded with fear, "Is she going to live?"
"My dear boy, you need to get out of here right now. I can't tell you anything and you'll only get in the way. Ms. Parvati, please hand me that roll of gauze!"
I tried to speak but my lips refused to move, my vocal cords seemed detached from my body. My eyes were sealed shut. I wanted to scream out in the blackness that was my cage.
"This is very serious. Very serious. We need to stop the bleeding coming from the back of her skull. She's still not responsive and her breathing is shallow. My god, you students need to stop trying to be so damn brave!"
"Should I lift her head to do that? Is it safe?"
"Yes dear, we know at least her spine is intact. She has so much damned hair we may need to tie it up. What-what is this? I thought this young lady was from a French family what is this Crest?"
Silence. It was deafening. I fought against the meat cage that was my unconscious body. I am a French girl! Please call my parents!
"That would be my family crest. That is why I am here and I'm not leaving," Malfoy's voice was suddenly recognizable. He sounded terrified, but he had managed to still convey power in his tone, "I will call on my parents. Her care will be done by professionals. The best. She is a Malfoy now and I am required to protect her." It sounded almost like he was being forced to say it, but he said it nonetheless with an air of authority.
No. No I was not. I wanted to beg Pomfrey to object but she wasn't saying anything. Someone else in the room gasped, multiple girls in fact. The embarrassment was overwhelming.
"Call them then!" She suddenly shrieked, "But until someone else capable comes to move her I will treat her until then, and I will be calling her biological family you mark my words Mr. Malfoy."
There was a shuffling sound and I fought to open my eyes. How much time until I was moved to Merlin knows where? If I didn't manage to regain consciousness now I would be helpless to prevent my transportation. I thrashed in agony.
"Her fingers twitched Poppy!" A young girl's voice said hopefully.
"Good, thank - Hold her head up straight silly girl, focus!" Pomfrey clearly needed better help than student healers. She sighed heavily, "Oh good, Mr. Potter you are awake. Please do not move I will be right over there to see to you. DO NOT MOVE Mr. Potter I will not say it again."
Harry was alive. I felt a flood of relief ripple through my detached consciousness.
"You wanted to see me, Poppy?" A gloomy, bored voice sifted through the air. Snape.
"Yes - this girl, she's in your house correct?"
There was a pause, then Snape dryly remarked, "I can hardly recognize her through all the blood you've failed to wipe from her face but thankfully, I attended the game. This would be Ms. Desrosiers. What can I do for you?"
"So she is not a Malfoy? I need you to contact her parents and tell them what happened."
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "Why on earth would you think her to be a Malfoy? May I remind you that phenotypical similarities in genetics does not always imply that two people are related?"
"Look for yourself then at this poor girl's neck. I don't know what that boy has done but this is irreversible magic. Either way her actual family must know about the accident before she is shipped away off the property."
I felt myself slipping into oblivion. Snape said something else but it was an incoherent blur of words. I was falling deeper and deeper into my head, until silence, and a timeless void became my reality.