Shades of Grey
18. Thoughts

Rose shook her head, unable to believe what Daphne was telling her. It made sense, sure, but it had all felt so real. The fear she had felt, the sticky warmth of the blood on her fingers, the putrid smell of Daphne's rotting corpse. It was all so vivid, so real. As much as this reality was a better one, Rose just couldn't believe it. Could Daphne really still be alive? Could she really still be here? She stretched out a hand and touched Daphne's hair. It was brittle, not the soft, silky strands that usually populated Daphne's head. The red of it seemed even darker than usual, bordering on a dark brown. And then the thought came to Rose. Maybe this is the dream.

Of course it would make more sense for Draco to have killed Daphne in cold blood. He was a Death Eater; that's what they do. But why had he done it? What had he said to her? Daphne had gone too far? Gotten too close? It was one of those clichés bad guys use when they've eliminated someone that was an accessory. But it didn't make any sense because Daphne didn't know anything. She didn't know about Draco or the Vanishing Cabinet or Snape or Dumbledore. None of it. So why her? What had she done? Somehow Rose felt it was all her fault. Her best friend was dead and it was all her fault. Draco was right; it's not safe. No one was safe. Especially not Rose or the people around her. They would all end up like Daphne. But at the hands of Draco? He wasn't a killer.

Well he is now.

That wasn't fair. She knew he was just following orders. There's no way he would have wanted to kill Daphne. He liked Daphne; they were friends. Or were they? Was anyone really a friend to a Death Eater? Rose couldn't get the thoughts to organize enough to form a conclusion, and she pulled her hand away from Daphne's unfamiliar hair, smiled as though to reassure her that she believed her, but the smile wasn't genuine, didn't reach her eyes. Daphne noticed this and frowned.

It's okay, Rose told herself. She's not even real. The real Daphne is dead.

"Maybe it's time the two of you went. Let her get some rest."

Madam Pomfrey. Rose recognized her voice, but the tone was a little too soft. Pomfrey was never this gentle with intruding visitors. Her dreams weren't as close to reality as reality, and she was strangely aware of this. Daphne nodded to someone behind Rose, and she turned her head to look. Draco sat on the opposite side of her bed, his brow creased with apparent worry.

Anger boiled up in Rose. How could he do that? How could he kill Daphne? Daphne who had never done a thing against him or anyone—mostly. How could he raise a blade to her and cut her the way he had? Red blood lust clouded Rose's vision, and she lunged toward Draco, screaming bloody murder. She wanted to rip him apart, rip him apart like he had done to her best friend. She wanted him to feel pain like he'd never known. She clawed at him, scratching his face and ripping at his clothes. He fell onto the floor, face bleeding. Hands were holding her back. She tried to squirm, tried to get closer to Draco so she could hurt him. She couldn't get any further. The hands were restraining her, and she realized that she wasn't very strong—dream weakness, like trying to run from a pursuer and not getting any further.

She fell back to the bed. It was pointless. He wasn't even real. When she woke up, she would really take care of him. Pomfrey held Rose down as Daphne and Draco left the hospital wing. Rose wondered if the dream would end now that they were gone, but she had no such luck. She lay motionless in the bed for what seemed like hours,—but that could have been the dream playing tricks on her mind—people coming in and out, Madam Pomfrey bustling around.

Rose soon came to the conclusion that this was by the far the worst dream ever. She stayed in the hospital for the rest of the night. Sometime after the sun started coming up, Rose started drifting off, thinking that the dream would finally fade away and end. Her vision began blurring and turning black when she heard voices coming from the direction of the door. She tried to drown them out and slip away.

"You can't come in, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey was saying.

"Just let me see her."

"I can't. Not after the episode we had last night."

"She was delusional then. Just let me talk to her."

"Mr. Malfoy, you need to leave." Pomfrey's voice was stern, much the same way it usually was. Much better than the last time she had spoken. The dream was getting more realistic. She smiled at her mind's improvement as she finally drifted off.

She awoke early the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the Hospital Wing windows and whimpered. Her head throbbed painfully, threatening to rip her skull apart. She groaned and sat up slowly, every part of her feeling sore from sleeping in the uncomfortable hospital cot. As though she had a sixth sense for knowing just when her patients woke up, Madam Pomfrey immediately descended on her.

"How do you feel?"

"Sore."

She nodded knowingly and handed Rose a glass. "Drink this. It's Pepper-Up Potion," she added when Rose wrinkled her nose.

She took the potion and gulped it down. It didn't take long for her to feel the effects. Her muscles began to relax and the tension released from her neck and back. The throbbing in her skull dulled. She set the glass down on the side table and properly sat up in her bed, looking around. The room was bright, a lot different than it was yesterday. Her recollections of the night before seemed to be dim, clouded with a filter screen, making them seem dark.

"Can I go now?"

Pomfrey shook her head. "I do not think so."

"Why not?" she exclaimed, not really wanting to spend any more time in the sterile room and scratchy sheets.

"Miss Martell, you spent the better part of last night muttering about dreams and illusions. I do not think you are in your right mind."

"I am perfectly fine," she said angrily, throwing the sheets off of herself and getting up from the bed. She swayed slightly on her feet before finding her balance. "You can't force me to stay here."

Pomfrey shrugged dejectedly. "I would just like to advice caution."

"Noted," Rose snapped, then turned on her heel and exited the Hospital Wing.

The truth was, she could remember just exactly Madam Pomfrey was referring to. Not only could she remember thinking that she was asleep all of last night before actually falling asleep, she could also remember why. She fought to convince herself that she was sleeping while simultaneously convincing herself that the alternate reality was the real one. Why would she wish that? Wouldn't a normal person cling to the reality of her best friend being alive and boyfriend not being a cold-blooded killer? Why had she tried so hard to tell herself that her dream was real? And at that moment, a thought came unbidden to her mind.

Maybe it's because it would be easier that way.

Rose shuddered at herself for even thinking it. No, it would not be easier that way. What on earth would possess her to think that? She would not rather Daphne be dead, not for anything. As for Draco…well that's a possibility she didn't want to go anywhere near, because it was a possibility that was very, very likely. Admittedly, Rose was sure he would never resort to the kind of killing that she had dreamt of, but that didn't mean he wouldn't resort to killing. In fact, isn't that what he was currently working towards—murder?

Before the thoughts could work themselves out, she ran straight into the devil himself. Draco wrapped his arms around her, and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"I was so worried," he murmured. "Are you okay?"

Rose nodded numbly, not trusting herself to speak aloud. Draco squeezed her tightly. Warmth swelled up inside of her, mingled with just the slightest cold of dread. She couldn't get the image of him from the dream out of her head. She pictured him standing in the doorway of the dormitory, his eyes dead and his face completely void of all emotion, the knife glinting in his grip. She could almost hear his voice, cold and detached. She shivered at the memory. She gathered herself and looked up at him, a weak smile on her lips.

"Rose, what happened?"

She shook her head. "Parkinson…"

His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. "I told you not to fight with her, Rose. You're lucky both you didn't—"

"I didn't do anything! I barely said two words to her and she hexed me across the corridor!"

"I'll talk to her."

"No, forget it," she shook her head. "It's not even worth it. I'm fine."

"Rose, you were just in the hospital for four days. That's not okay."

"I'm fine," she snapped, pulling away from his grasp.

It was strange, because normally Rose would have been the first one to track down Parkinson and hex the living daylights out of her, but not today. The last thing Rose wanted now was to pick a fight with her. She looked at Draco, her eyes still narrowed. He looked confused and a little taken aback. She realized how short she had just been with him, but something was making her irrationally angry with him. She needed to calm down. The dream wasn't real. It wasn't real.

It wasn't real, she repeated in her head.

"Rose," he stepped forward tentatively, holding his hand out toward her, "is everything alright?"

She shook her head. "No, it's really not, Draco."

She stepped forward and let him wrap his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest.

"Nothing's alright at all."

. . .

It took Rose the entire week to return back to normal. Every night when she went to sleep, she could see the images from her dream behind her eyelids. The nightmares plagued her to the point where she stopped sleeping. The following weekend, Rose didn't sleep all three nights, and when she finally passed out in the middle of Charms, nearly setting a bookcase on fire, Draco put his foot down and made her explain herself. She told him about the dream and what she thought lay in their future. All of her fears about him. He didn't have much of a response. Mostly he murmured words of reassurance, but he didn't actually tell her she was wrong, and Rose knew why—because she wasn't. But after that day, he had let her spend the night with him in the boys' dormitory, which kept the nightmares away for the most part. When they returned, he would wake her and assure her that it was just a dream. They spent all of the following week that way before Rose was ready to return to her own bed. She didn't want to continue this way, with nightmares that made little sense invading her slumber. She tried her hardest to do everything that would prevent them from coming, but they still did. She learned to turn her back on them, though. Eventually, she woke up in the morning, not remembering anything she dreamt, which was much preferable.

Other than her lack of sleep and constant nighttime terror, the three weeks following the episode passed without real incident. It was back to normal, for the most part. Rose continued to accompany Draco to the Hidden Room on regular occasions. They kissed, they fucked, they bickered. Daphne was as alive and well as ever, finally adjusting to having to share her best friend with someone else. But Rose suspected that she took advantage of the time apart to get closer to Theodore Nott, whom she seemed to be spending an awful lot of time with. Yeah, everything seemed to be going well, until it all fell down again on the first of March.

Rose sprinted up the stairs to the seventh floor, her heart racing and hands balled up into fists. She stomped down the familiar corridors to where she knew the two second year girls standing in the hallway were Crabbe and Goyle on Polyjuice Potion. As they saw her approaching, eyes flashing with undeniable rage, they stepped aside, letting her entire the room hidden in the apparently solid wall. She slammed the door to the Room of Requirement shut and stormed through the stacks of miscellaneous items until she came upon the blonde boy she was looking for. He was sitting on the ground, scribbling in a notebook, his tongue between his teeth in concentration, robes discarded on the floor beside him. He looked up as she approached, grinning, but his smile quickly fell as he saw her expression, and he got to his feet. As he was about to open his mouth to speak, Rose slapped him hard across the face.

"What the bloody hell!" he shouted, grasping his cheek.

Rose's hand burned from the contact, but she didn't pay it any mind. Her chest heaved as she breathed heavily, her eyes narrowed at the wizard in front of her.

"You are possibly the dumbest fucking person on the planet."

"Thanks very much, love," he said sarcastically. "What's crawled its way into your arse?"

"I was just strolling past the Hospital Wing and guess what I found out?"

Draco shrugged.

"Ron Weasley has been poisoned," she said, and waited for his reaction. Draco paled a little but said nothing. She added, "By some faulty mead."

"Oh fuck," he whispered.

"I knew it! Would you mind telling me what that's about, Malfoy!"

"Okay, okay, it's not what you think!" he began, holding his hands out as though warding her off.

"No? Because the way I understand it, you thought you could slip some poisoned mead to Slughorn and he would give it to Dumbledore."

"Oh," he stepped back. "I guess it is what you think."

She hit him again. She continued to hit him, pushing him back against the Cabinet as she did. Her fists, nails, palms hit him repeatedly on the face, chest, arms. He was scratched and bruised and red from her abuse but she wouldn't let him stop her. Finally he managed to grab both of her wrists without being attacked by her nails. He held her tightly and she thrashed around, tears falling freely down her face.

"Let me go, you bloody moron! Let me go!"

"So you can hit me some more? Not likely," he scoffed. "Stop it, Rose. Stop it."

She collapsed onto him, helpless. He released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her. She took the opportunity to try to hit him again, but he stopped her before she could. Knowing that she did as much damage as she could manage, she settled for kissing him.

"You're so fucking stupid," she cried, kissing him between her words. "What happens when you get caught, Draco? Why are you such a moron?"

"Rose, please calm down. It's not a big deal, okay? They won't know it's me."

"Of course they will, don't be even more stupid! Don't you know Potter is going to automatically assume it's you? And Dumbledore always listens to Potter. You'll be out of here by morning, I just know it."

"Rose," he said sternly, pulling her back and holding her at arms' length by her shoulders. "Listen. I won't get caught, okay? It was a stupid plan. It was a pretty last-ditch kind of plan. I didn't think it through. It was stupid. I get it. Now will you please calm down?"

She slumped to the ground, defeated. This had not at all gone the way she had expected it to. She envisioned beating him until he agreed that yes, she was right and maybe they were in danger. And maybe they should both just run away and never look back. That he'd abandon this whole Death Eater thing and they'd run away somewhere safe where no one can ever find them. Maybe the actual outcome was a little more realistic, but she much preferred her imagined one.

"I just can't lose you now. Not now. We're so very close to just making it all work, you know?"

Even as she said that, she knew it was a load of bollocks. They couldn't make it work. He was still a Death Eater and she still either had to make the same allegiance or…or she had to leave him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to consider the second option with each passing day. At this point, she wasn't really sure how she could leave him. They had been through so much in the past few months, and she knew there were even more hardships ahead. But the thing was, she wanted those hardships. She could envision herself facing them with Draco, but without him…she just couldn't see it. It had become so normal for her to sit in this room and watch him work on the Vanishing Cabinet—which was getting closer to being finished every day, even if it did still explode on occasion. Being with him was something she was used to now, and she didn't really want to give that up. But the possible bleakness of her future with him still sent a shiver up her spine. She just couldn't be that type of person. She couldn't.

"You won't," he assured her, gathering her in his arms. "You won't lose me."

Rose looked up at him. She looked right into his eyes and searched them to see if he was saying that sincerely or simply placating her. In the meantime, though, she got lost in the oceans of silver and found herself drawing closer to him. Their lips met gently at first but then she realized just how much she actually wanted to kiss him and tangled her fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. Pretty soon their kissing turned into a much more heated affair. They shed their clothes one at a time. He lay atop her on the floor of the Room of Requirement. She looked up at the sweat matting his blonde hair to his forehead and down to his bare torso hovering above her own and couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain in imagining the loss of it.

She grabbed the back of his head to bring his lips down to hers as he picked up a steady pace inside of her. She let moan after moan escape her lips, her nails making crescent-shaped impressions in his back. Their breathing increased and after a few minutes, she screamed loudly, his name leaving her throat over and over as she rode wave after wave of pleasure. Draco collapses atop her, then rolled over to the floor, and as Rose leaned over to place her head on his chest, one very distinct thought ran through her mind.

I have to leave him.