Shades of Grey
Chapter 8: Insufferable Prat
Disclaimer: Are these even necessary anymore?
Author's Note: READGO.
"Can I help?" Rose asked, stifling a yawn.
She sat upon the same box she had settled herself into when Draco first told her of his "mission." Now she sat there again, against her better judgment. She should have distanced herself from Draco and his slow spiral towards death, but she couldn't make herself do that. She felt more drawn to him now than ever before. Over the last few days, she accompanied Draco to the Room of Hidden Things and watched as he struggled with the cabinet. He was stressed and tired all the time. She felt genuine concern when she saw him like this. That concern often evaporated when they weren't alone in the Room anymore; he was just as rude and tactless as ever. But she always saw the stress in his eyes, the way he was always haunted by his thoughts. She tried to ignore it, but every time she saw him here, in the darkness of the clutter, it gripped at her.
"No, you can't," he answered, his voice thick with regret.
"Why not?"
He didn't answer. She waited for him to respond, but when he continued to work in silence, it became apparent he had no intention to. She sighed.
"Why not, Malfoy?" she repeated with more authority. "Because He won't let you?"
"That's right. In fact, you shouldn't even be here. He'd kill me if he found out." She glared. "No, I don't mean literall—"
"Yes, you do. That's the worst part. He would kill you. He'd kill you for just about anything."
"You're wrong. He's not like that."
"I am not wrong! What makes you think he wouldn't?"
"Because he needs me."
She laughed. "Bloody hell, you're stupid. He does not need you. You're just a kid, for Merlin's sake. You're more disposable than any of his worthless Death Eaters."
"Mind your tongue, Martell!" he roared. "We are not worthless. My parents are not worthless. And neither am I! I'm the beginning of the new generation. You'll see."
She stood up. "I can't be around you when you're like this," she groaned, turning away.
Rose hadn't walked more than two feet, when Draco's quiet voice spoke behind her. "Don't go," he whispered.
She turned around and looked at him; the expression she saw on his increasingly pale face broke her heart.
. . .
Rose didn't return to the Room the next day. She made up a lame excuse about not feeling well and opted to stay in her dorm. She didn't talk to Daphne, afraid of what she might tell her by accident. She swore to keep Draco's mission a secret. A part of her wished that she could tell Daphne, just so that she'd have someone to talk about it with; someone to help her sort through this mess. But, alas, she could not utter a word to anyone. There was always Crabbe and Goyle — Draco's only other confidantes — but for all the conversation they would provide, she might as well have talked to her pillow. She groaned into the aforementioned pillow, unable to fall asleep. Thoughts of Draco continued to circulate her mind for hours until she fell asleep. When she finally did fall asleep, she was haunted by blurry dreams of Dark Marks and wedding gowns.
. . .
She woke up the next morning to Daphne's shaking. She was yelling at her to wake up and get to breakfast, but Rose just simply had not slept enough to manage it. After several minutes of whining, Rose finally got out of bed and into her robes for the day. Draco wasn't at the breakfast table. She suspected he'd been up all night, without her there to urge him on to bed. She regretted not going with him the night before, but she didn't want to face him after what had happened. The look of pain, dread, and vulnerability that she saw displayed across his features was heart wrenching. She saw something she didn't want to see. He was scared, and she knew it. He'd never admit it, but he was. She wished that there was something she could do, but there wasn't. He was completely on his own, whether he wanted to be or not, and there was not a single thing she could have done to change that. He would never forgive her if she told anyone, that much was certain. So she sat with the burden of his troubles and his secrets, keeping it locked inside her, a plastic smile on her face, a fake laugh ringing out at a joke to which she didn't even hear the punchline.
"…'s so obvious," Pansy's shrill voice floated into her thoughts.
"What's so obvious, Parkinson?" she sneered.
"What's going on with you and Draco. You're faking it! It's all very obvious," she nodded, as if proud of herself for making the connection.
"I don't have time for you right now," Rose sighed, standing up.
"See?" she said to Millicent. "She didn't even bother denying it."
"I'm not dignifying you with a response, Parkinson."
"Call it what you will, but I'm positive that I'm right. You never kiss, or even hold hands. Merlin knows you definitely don't have sex," she scoffed.
"That's where you're wrong," Rose replied smugly. "I have had sex with Draco Malfoy. Even in his very own house, as a matter of fact!"
"You're lying."
"Am not. Guest room upstairs? Dark blue drapes? Undecorated, big bed, relatively small? When you jump on the bed — or more accurately have wild sex on it — it makes a faint squeak?"
Pansy's expression grew dark. Rose looked on with triumph, turned, and walked away.
"She's lying, Pansy," she heard Millicent console her. Pansy had no response.
Once out of the Great Hall, Rose exhaled deeply. Why did she just bring that up? What had possessed her? She swore to herself never to mention that. Saying it only made it seem like a reality, and that's something she never wanted to do: make that horrible, horrible night a reality. She was perfectly content with storing it away in the deepest, darkest cupboard of her mind, and never thinking of it again. Rose stalked off toward class, angry with Pansy for making her say it, angrier with herself for even thinking of it, and angrier still at Draco Malfoy for having done it in the first place.
. . .
"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall drawled. Draco didn't reply as he took a seat next to Rose.
"Where's Daphne?" he whispered.
"Sick in bed," Rose replied, and Draco nodded as though he didn't actually care and was only asking as a courtesy.
"How much sleep did you get last night?" asked Rose, her brow creasing.
"I didn't," he said in a stiff voice. "Just getting back now."
She looked up at him in horror before fishing in her bag for a piece of candy. "Want one?" she asked politely.
Draco willingly took the first bit of food he's had in Merlin knew how long. His nose immediately started gushing blood. Rose shot her hand in the air.
"Professor!" she called.
McGonagall took one look at Draco's shocked face and waved both of them out of the room. Rose grabbed her stuff, and dragged Draco out of the room by his unbloodied hand.
"Here, eat this," she said when they left the room. He backed away in fear. "It'll make it stop."
He hesitated for a second before swallowing the candy in one gulp. The blood flow stopped at once. Rose took out her wand and cleaned up the mess. Draco looked positively livid.
"What was that?" he sputtered.
"Skiving Snackbox." He stared blankly. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes? The new shop in Diagon Alley?"
"Ugh, you buy things from those blood traitors?"
"I'm sure their products haven't got any sort of disease on them that will make you love muggles," she replied sarcastically. He huffed in annoyance. "We have to talk."
He sighed. "Again?"
She gave him a stern look. "Again." She grabbed his hand and led him into an alcove.
"Why does it seem like you always have something to say, Martell? Especially when I don't care what you have to say."
"Cut it out, Malfoy. I'm being serious. You need to take a break. I can't keep seeing you like this. You don't sleep, you barely eat, you look like a mess, you're falling behind in your studies—"
"Studies," he scoffed. "What do I care for my studies?"
"You should care a lot. Think what you will, but they're just as important now as they ever were."
"Says the girl that hasn't done a scrap of homework in her life!"
"Don't you worry about me. I've got myself taken care of. It's you we're talking about now. You need a break. A long, healthy break."
"I can't do that. It's not my decision to make. If He wants me to take a break, then I will."
"What do you mean it's not your choice?" she asked in anger. "This is your life. What? You think it's His now? No. You're a human being, Draco. He doesn't control you!"
"Yes, he does. I can't expect you to understand," he muttered darkly.
"Then explain it to me, Draco. I seem to continually have a hard time bloody understanding."
"You can't possibly understand the devotion I feel for him. He needs me and loves me. You can't understand the trust and respect we have. He's going to give me everything. I'll never need anything but his protection and providing. I will be honoured beyond everyone else. He not only has my life, he deserves it."
She stared at him blankly. "Respect?" He nodded. "Trust?" He nodded. "Love?" He nodded. "And you really believe that?" He nodded. "Then you're more of a fool than I thought. Want to know what I think? I think you're going to fail in this task, and then you know what will happen? He'll kill you without a moment's hesitation. He'll kill all of you in cold blood. You, your mother, your father — who should consider himself lucky that he's in Azkaban, because he'll be dead if he ever gets out. Not that he won't have deserved what he got—"
"Enough!" he shouted, and hit her face so hard with the back of his hand that she stumbled backward into the wall. He gripped her chin between his fingers and turned her head to face him. "Don't you dare speak of my father that way. He will come back a hero, and if he doesn't come back, he'll die a hero. You don't understand anything."
He released her face, letting her head hit the back of the wall with a thud. Sparks erupted in front of her eyes. She blinked them away, defiant.
"Does it make it better?" she said, looking straight at him. "Does it make you feel better when you hit me? I know why you do it. You feel weak and useless, so you hit me to assert your power. But it won't work; I'm not hurt, because I know that you are weak, feeble, and powerless. Funnily enough, you're just like Him. He kills all the people he does for the same reasons that you hit me; he feels weak. He wants to show that he's better than them. And for that, he is weak. You both are."
"Well aren't you just the muggle-lover. Off to join Potter and his crusade any minute now," Draco said angrily.
"No, I'm just a big fan of not being a mindless drone to a fascist tyrant," she spat.
"Is that so?" he sneered, gripping her throat in his right hand. "And who's going to save your life when that so-called fascist tyrant rules over all, and you'll be marked a traitor?"
"I'm sure I'll have my strong, scary Death Eater husband to protect me," she said acidly through her teeth.
Draco's grip suddenly tightened on her as he leaned his lips to her ear. "I'll kill you myself," he whispered.
Rose's gut went cold, and she froze. He trailed his tongue under her jaw line, and kissed her cheek before releasing her. She watched him walk away, still frozen in shock. He didn't look back as he left, and she was glad for it. Shaking herself out, she started walking back toward Transfiguration. She didn't want to go back to class now, but she felt it was the safest place for her, where she couldn't be alone with her thoughts, or alone with him.
. . .
For the rest of the day, Draco was nowhere in sight. As she had guessed, he didn't go back to Transfiguration after their encounter. Rose covered for him by saying he was in the Hospital Wing. When he didn't come to any other classes, she knew he must have retreated back to the Hidden Room. Rose ground her teeth against the thought. If he wanted to destroy his life, then good riddance. Even as she thought that, she knew she didn't believe it. She knew that if he were to be killed, she would be devastated.
The entire group of them were sitting together in the Slytherin Common Room that night. Everyone was there and having a relatively good time. Blaise and Daphne were engrossed in a mediocre game of Wizard's Chess—Blaise wasn't very good, and Daphne was okay at best—while Theodore watched, whispering suggestions in Daphne's ear. Pansy was sorting through her Chocolate Cards alone, seeing as no one really talked to her anymore, unless you counted Millicent, who was in detention. Crabbe and Goyle sat next to each other awkwardly, shooting anxious glances around the room. Rose festered, letting herself laugh when the game in front of her turned into a pointless argument on cheating—this happened after every other move. Only one person was missing.
"Where's Draco?" Theodore suddenly piped up, as if reading her thoughts. "I haven't seen him all day."
"I'm sure Rose would know," Pansy wheezed, shooting Rose a pointed look as though by not knowing where Draco spent the day, it proved once and for all that their engagement was fake.
"In the dormitory, sleeping," Blaise volunteered, groaning in defeat as Daphne took his second Bishop.
Right on cue, Draco came waltzing into the Common Room, looking more rested than Rose had seen him since Christmas holiday. He glanced around with a raised eyebrow, seemingly confused by the crowded Common Room. He looked at his watched, and his eyes popped a bit.
"Draco, mate, do you want to play a round of chess?" Blaise asked, clearly giving up on playing against Daphne and Theodore.
Draco faltered, and looked at his watch again. "Uh, I can't right now," he answered hastily.
"Oh, don't mind him," Rose interrupted in a bitter tone. "Draco has this thing where he can't make his own decisions. I'm sure participating in a trivial activity like chess would require weeks worth of paper work."
Draco shot daggers at her. "Can I speak to you outside, Rose?" he said through gritted teeth.
"I don't know, can you?" she shot back icily.
He made a low growling noise in his throat, and dragged her out of the Common Room by her arm, motioning for Crabbe and Goyle to stay seated on his way out. She followed him out of the Common Room, his grip on her arm alarmingly tight. When he let her go in the corridor, she had to rub her skin to get the blood flowing. She saw that his hands stayed clenched in fists at his sides. She struck a nerve, evidently. A smirk almost spread across her face. Almost. She wasn't stupid.
"What are you doing?" he spat angrily.
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," she replied innocently.
"If they found out—they can't find out, okay?"
"I still don't see why not. They're your friends; I'm sure they'd understand. Not to mention their parents are all Death Eaters, so Merlin knows they wouldn't tell anyone."
"That's not the point. They can't know," he insisted.
"But why!" she groaned in exasperation. "Crabbe and Goyle know. Why can't the others?"
He snorted. "Crabbe and Goyle don't know anything. Their job is to keep watch over the Room. They think that I'm entrusting them with more than they're worth just because they can get into it. And of course they're right."
Rose couldn't help but smile a little.
"In truth, besides Snape, you're the only one that knows what I'm up to." He paused. "Actually, I don't know if he's too sure what's going on either. Congratulations, Martell, you're just that special."
"Gee, thanks," she answered in a sarcastic tone, but smiled at him nonetheless.
His face grew serious. "Are you coming today?" he asked hopefully.
She thought for just a second. There wasn't any reason not to go. And truthfully, she liked going to the Room with Draco. She liked to watch him work, and talk to him without the pressure of anyone listening. They act like themselves, like idiots, like two friends. And it had been a couple of days since she'd been there last. It wasn't long, but already she felt herself missing their time in the Room. The fight from the morning seemed years away, and so unimportant now as she looked at his expectant face, that she almost forgot it happened.
"Yeah, I'm coming," she said.
He grinned.
. . .
"So you'll never guess what happened today in the Great Hall!" Rose said, suddenly remembering.
Draco's voice came muffled from within the Vanishing Cabinet, "What?"
"Come on out, you have to hear this," she insisted.
Draco pulled himself out of the Cabinet, and dusted off decade-old dust as he did. She laughed a little as he sneezed from it. She felt like a child, finding unamusing things funny. He glared at her, but ruined his stance by sneezing again. Rose promptly laughed. He pretended to ignore her. Really, how old were they? She smiled as she realized she didn't care that they were acting like children.
"Okay, so go on. What happened?"
"Pansy Parkinson happened," Rose began plainly.
"Oh no," he groaned, already sensing the story wasn't going anywhere good.
"She's under the impression that you're faking your engagement to me in order to make her jealous."
He stared at Rose for a moment, waiting for her to say she was joking. Then he laughed. "Bloody nutter," he sighed, shaking his head.
"Well, aside from the making her jealous part, I can see where she can be mistaken. She says we don't act like we like each other."
"Because we don't," he reminded her.
"That's not true! I like you!" He gave her a look. "You know, occasionally. When you're not being an insufferable prat."
"Me?" he asked in outrage. "You're the prat!"
"Am not! You're such a wanker," she replied.
"I won't deny that one," he nodded. She laughed. "So what did you say to her?"
"That she was full of shit, obviously."
"I'm sure that got her off your case." He rolled his eyes.
"I told her that we have sex. I thought she was going to have a heart attack. It was brilliant. You should have seen her face."
"She believed you?" he asked skeptically.
"I gave detailed," Rose shrugged.
He nodded for a moment, as though this made sense. Then stopped, realizing she had to have gotten the details from somewhere. And it finally dawned on him. "Oohh," he said.
An awkward silence ensued.
A/N: I am so grateful for everyone that is reading and reviewing. If you're only reading, not reviewing, I am less grateful. If you're only reviewing, not reading, I am...confused. What are you doing?
No, seriously, reviews are beyond appreciated.