Shades of Grey
17. Headache

Author's Note: So, I haven't posted since September. That was 5 months ago. That...there's just no excuse for that. BUT I'M BACK AND I'M BADDER THAN EVER. Well, okay, no. If you notice, I started an LJ fic as well on this account. You can read. You don't have to. I don't actually care. This chapter is really short but really insane. So enjoy it!

Once again, the way she usually did, Rose found herself sitting the Room of Requirement. Only this time, she was alone, having snuck out of the common room just before curfew. The Vanishing Cabinet sat in front of her; the tarp that usually covered it when Draco was away lay in a heap on the floor. Rose stared at it, as though hoping she could simply will it to work and this whole mess could be over. Well, maybe not completely over, but at least it would make things easier. At least Draco would be out of the dark with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Perhaps if Draco were to succeed, Rose would at least be more willing to stay with him and join up with the Death Eaters, because the constant threat would be gone. And if Draco failed, there was no joining up; there was no threat; there was just no Draco—he'd be dead. She shivered.

The faint sound of an opening and closing door sounded from the direction of the Room's entrance. Rose quickly waved her wand to restore the tarp over the Cabinet and dove behind a large pile of boxes. Draco appeared a minute later, dropping his school bag on the floor and setting to work. She waited until he was hidden within the Cabinet before quietly leaving the Room of Requirement.

On her way back to the common room, while thoughts swirled around in her head like angered fairies in a jar, Rose spotted Pansy Parkinson sitting alone in an alcove. The urge to make fun of her became too strong for Rose to overcome and so she approached her, a dozen insults springing to mind.

"Hey Parkinson, did—"

The sentence was cut short by the sight of tears streaking down Parkinson's face. Her eyes were bloodshot and there was an unattractive fluid pooling between nose and upper lip. Rose's brow creased, and she quickly began reconsidering the number of nasty things she was going to say to Parkinson, arranging them to fit this new scenario before her. Before Rose could say anything, Parkinson looked up.

"Get away from me, Martell. I don't have patience for you right now."

Rose scoffed. "As if I care. What—"

"Didn't you hear me? I said go away," she spat.

Rose found herself in the air, thrown off of her feet. Her back and head hit the wall, sending a crippling pain through her; she slumped to the ground. Everything went black for a moment, and Rose opened her eyes to an empty corridor. There was the faint sound of receding footsteps. Sparks danced in front of her eyes. She was only out for a second or two, but the throbbing she felt in the back of her head felt like it had been festering for hours. Slowly, carefully, Rose lifted to her feet, wobbling slightly. The walls seemed to spin around her, and she had to grab one for support.

It took several minutes for Rose to stumble her way back to the common room. She tripped and stumbled the whole way, the world a hazy mess. By the time she found herself muttering the password, her vision had cleared, but the pain was still just as prominent as before—if not more. The common room was empty, all of the students having long since gone to bed. The embers of the fire smouldered weakly as though trying against all hope to still burn but losing quickly. Rose took a seat on the couch, too dizzy to keep going.

She'd heard that falling asleep after getting a concussion could put one into a coma. Did she have a concussion? Sure felt like it. Parkinson must have sent her flying at least five feet into the air. Someday she had to get that spell off of her. But right now, the most important was not to fall asleep. She stared at the fire. Whatever she did, she just had...to...not...fall...asleep...

"Rose!"

Rose jumped as Draco's voice startled her. She turned around to see him standing just a few feet away, worry creasing his brow. He walked forward.

"What are you doing here? It's late," he said.

Rose shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," she lied, deciding that she didn't have the energy to tell him about Pansy. "And you? Just getting in?"

He nodded, coming to sit next to her on the couch. He put his hand on top of hers and smiled. She returned it, feeling like her face cracked with the effort. She lifted her other hand to caress Draco's face, feeling the hot, smooth skin. She leaned forward to kiss him, hoping that the feel of his lips on hers would ease away the memories and feelings and pain and hardships. After just a few moments, he pulled away, shaking his head.

"You know that's not safe, right?"

Rose's brows creased. "Not safe?"

Draco continued to shake his head as he stood and disappeared into the passageway for the boys' dormitory. Rose sat on the couch, confused. What did he mean it wasn't safe? What was safe? Honestly, that was just a vague statement in general, because there were many things that weren't safe right now. What did he mean?

Finally Rose decided that maybe some sleep wouldn't be so bad. Her head didn't even hurt anymore. She stood, quite stably, and began making her way to the dormitory. When she opened the door, the room was pitch black, her roommates soundly asleep. When she stepped over the threshold, however, Rose slipped. She fell hard to the floor, landing in something sticky. Mumbling, she pulled out her wand and whispered, "Lumos."

Red. It was red. All over her hands and her pants and the floor. Blood everywhere. Rose stifled a scream. A led weight dropped into the gut as she panned her wand around the room, looking for the source of the fluid. It was absolutely everywhere. All over the floor. It wasn't on her bed, Rose noticed. Nor was it on any of the other beds. Except one. Before the thought even properly registered, Rose was running out of the room. She stopped at the entrance to the common room, doubled over, and vomited.

After taking a minute to compose herself, Rose walked cautiously back into the dormitory, wand light in front of her. She cast the spell out, to examine the room. There wasn't as much blood as she had originally seen. There wasn't a pool of it around the entire room. It was splashed around, some parts mostly bare with a droplet or two. She took a few steps toward the beds, careful to step in as little blood as possible. She approached the blood soaked bed, and nearly threw up again.

There was Daphne, or what used to be Daphne. She was completely split up open, head to crotch, right down the middle. Each of her organs lay almost-dry within her bloodless corpse, acting like a bowl for fruit. The analogy made Rose gag. She noticed that things were out of place. Daphne's heart was where her uterus should be, the brain in place of her spleen, the intestines neatly curled up inside her skull. Everything was shifted around in a random manner, as though for no other purpose than to put them where they didn't belong.

Rose gingerly lowered her hand to rest on Daphne's face, each half of which was lying on the side of the bed like a split watermelon. The food similes were making Rose nauseous. She touched Daphne's cheek, the blood there dry and crusty. Her eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, irises blank of emotion. Rose had never seen a dead body—especially not one like this. She figured she was taking it better than expected, though maybe that was just the shock. Rose tried to close each of Daphne's eyes like she heard you're supposed to do but the post-mortem paralysis had taken hold and they wouldn't shut easily.

Rose saw that Daphne was naked, even before the slicing. Her clothes were in a bloody heap on the floor, as though having been torn off in haste and discarded. Rose couldn't bear the thought of whoever did this to have taken those clothes off, because there was only one reason he would. As Rose was about to turn away, she saw something on one of Daphne's arms. There, on the skin, a crude mark had been cut. Even with the scratchy and non-too-detailed carving, Rose could tell what it was. A Dark Mark.

Rose turned and ran for the door, one person on her mind. As though reading her thoughts, Draco appeared in the doorway. She ran for him, ready to fall into his arms and beg for help. Beg for him to take her away and never make her come back. Beg for them to run away together. But she stopped just a foot away from him. He stood just on the other side of the threshold, smirking, his white button-up shirt stained with blood. It took Rose a minute to find her voice.

"Draco?" she tried.

He smiled. "Are you okay, baby?"

She shook her head. "What happened?"

"Looks like she finally went too far."

"I…I don't understand."

"I told you," he said seriously. "It's not safe."

"You-you did this?"

He shrugged nonchalantly.

Without another word, Draco walked away, a blade of silver glinting in the palm of his hand. Rose's mind spun. She ran after him, but as she stepped through the door, she fell. She fell for what seemed like forever before finally landing on a soft bed of white.

"She's got some colour back," Draco was saying.

Rose looked up at him, and reeled back. She jumped from the bed and fell to the floor, losing balance. She shuffled backward across the floor in terror, hands scraping on the dirty floor. Her heart hammered like it was trying to force its way out of her chest. Draco started walking forward, Rose panicked, managed to shoot to her feet with a burst of adrenaline, and lunged at Draco. They both fell to the floor, her on top of him. She began to claw at his face with her nails, howling like mad the entire time.

Suddenly hands were on her, pulling her back. She continued to flail, trying desperately to reach Draco and cause him harm, but she was pulled away. The arms restraining her tightened their grip. She couldn't see past the rage clouding her vision. It took nearly ten minutes for everyone to calm her down. Eventually a Full-Body Bind Curse had to be employed.

Rose was laid on the bed, unable to move. After what seemed like forever, the curse was lifted and she felt feeling return to her limbs again, but was too weak and tired to move them. She couldn't hear or care what everyone was saying. She just wanted some sleep.

"Rose," came a voice so familiar, Rose almost started crying.

"Daphne?" she whimpered.

"Rosie, are you alright?"

Rose turned her head to the side to see a familiar head of dark red hair next to her. A smile wider than any she'd ever wielded spread across Rose's face, tears running like a waterfall down her face. She sat up and threw her arms around her best friend, weeping uncontrollably.

"You're alive," she sobbed. "You're alive."

"Of course I'm alive. Rose, honey, I'm fine."

Rose pulled back, wiping her face with her sleeve. "I don't understand, what happened?"

"You've been out for almost three days," Daphne explained, brow creasing. "Don't you remember?"

The memory of Pansy Parkinson throwing her across the room with her wand came rushing back. She stood up, and stumbled to the common room. She sat on the couch, watching the fire.

"I fell asleep," she finally muttered.

Daphne looked apprehensively to someone behind her. "Yes, you had a concussion. A second year found you in the morning."

She shook her head. It was too much to wrap her brain around. But the most important thing she thought before laying her head back down on the pillow to rest was not utter weirdness of it all, but what did it mean?