Author’s Notes: I can’t thank Skipper424 enough for the immense help he was to this story. Also:
A- I’ve taken the unidentified sixth year girl from the Inquisitorial Squad who captured Ginny in OotP and given her an identity, so technically, Rema Crosswright really exists. ; )
B- The dialogue that Rema overhears on the train is taken straight from HBP; Chapter 7, The Slug Club.
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Beneath the Shadows
The Slytherin common room looked as magnificent as ever in all its green-and-silver glory. In the absence of windows, green lamps hung on chains from the ceiling, and torches were propped on every wall, shadows dancing all around from their flickering flames. A grand fire warmed the dungeon from underneath an elegant mantelpiece at the end of the room. Echoing calmly off the cold stone walls was the ever familiar evening buzz as the Slytherins wound down after a long day of classes.
In a far corner of the common room, out of the firelight and away from the chatter, a girl with a thin face and an upturned nose was draped lazily over a green, winged armchair, her skinny legs propped up on a satin pouf. She had very high cheekbones, green-brown eyes, yellow ringlets that just reached her shoulders, and she was distractedly stroking the back of a fluffy black cat that lay on her lap. Her too-skinny face would have been pretty had it not been wearing an expression of such hatred.
Rema Crosswright indeed felt quite hateful at present. From where she sat, she could see everything, including the actions of the group of sixth years settled in front of the fireplace in the center of the common room. More specifically, she could observe Pansy Parkinson as she leaned close to Draco Malfoy’s face, whispering suavely into his left ear. She could observe as that cow hung herself all over him, with that unbearable smirk on her face. And she could observe, for the umpteenth painful time, the fact that Draco seemed very distraught, that his face was thinner and paler than ever, that he had the faintest of dark circles under his eyes.
Rema ground her teeth absentmindedly. It frustrated her to watch as Draco lied to the entire world. It angered her that when he was obviously troubled, she couldn’t approach him in the midst of a crowd and wrap her arms around him, look into his eyes and offer him comfort. It infuriated her that Pansy had taken her place, and that Pansy was the one keeping Rema from knowing what was wrong with her boyfriend.
Rema and Draco had been dating in secret for just over five months, two of which had been spent in separation over the summer holidays. They had met when Draco was in his fifth year, Rema in her sixth, as fellow Prefects. They had then been reacquainted when they were both made members of Professor Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad.
“Pansy’s nothing to me,” Draco had said. “I only pretend to like her because our mothers are best friends, and our fathers think it’s a perfect match. It’s only pretend.”
From the time their hidden relationship had begun until June, things had been going quite pleasantly, or as pleasantly as a secret teenage love affair can go. Then Draco’s father got into trouble with the Ministry, and he began steadily slipping away. By the last day of school, he had gone from mischievous and excited to detached and angry. Rema knew things were going on inside his precious head that had nothing to do with Pansy. After they exchanged one letter each over the summer, she stopped hearing from him at all. Finally, on the train ride back to school a month and a half ago, she overheard part of a conversation that pushed her concerns over the edge.
“You take the back end of the train, and I’ll stay up here,” said Eddie Carmichael. He turned and walked off down the narrow corridor, peering through all the compartment windows as he passed.
Hours after wrapping up their Prefects’ meeting, the time had come for Rema and her fellow Head to patrol the train. As the Ravenclaw made his way toward the front end, Rema turned and walked the opposite way.
She only took a few steps before a familiar voice floated out to the aisle and into her ears. She stopped short and then backed up a few paces, edging closer to the nearby compartment door. Through the narrow window she could see Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, and a boy she thought was called Blaise. She would have bet anything Draco was in that compartment with them, but she would have had to shift to the other side of the window to get a better look, and she knew if she moved an inch the inhabitants of the compartment would notice her. Instead, she backed up one more step and pressed her ear to the wall.
“…pity Slughorn’s taste,” came Draco’s voice. She knew by his tone that he was vexed. But who was Slughorn? She supposed he must have been the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, as it was the only position open. She continued eavesdropping. “My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or””
“I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Blaise. She could see his calm, uninterested expression. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived…” Nott was another sixth year, the son of a Death Eater, she knew. And where had Blaise “arrived”? “...When he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.”
Rema narrowed her eyes and pushed her ear even harder against the wall, ignoring the pain it caused as she concentrated on the sixth years’ conversation. She heard Draco laugh hollowly. “Well, who cares what he’s interested in?” he said. “What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher.” He made an odd sound, like a yawn. “I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?”
What did he mean, he might not be at Hogwarts next year? She hoped he wasn’t insinuating “
“What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?” said another voice, as if having read Rema’s mind. Her jaw dropped as she recognized with newfound loathing to whom the high, feminine voice belonged.
“Well, you never know. I might have “ moved on to bigger and better things.”
Rema closed her eyes and moved her head away from the wall, then turned and leaned back against it. Bigger and better things? He couldn’t mean…but his father obviously supported…the Dark Lord?
Rema shook away her thoughts and refocused her eyes when she noticed vigorous movement from where the sixth years were sitting. Draco was standing up. He said something offhand to his friends (Pansy looked sour), and before he could turn away, his eyes met hers for the first time in weeks. In that second Rema felt like an unbearable amount of information was being communicated: she was prying him for truth, but he was pulling away.
Pansy had seen it. Draco turned sharply and made for the common room entrance. As the bare stretch of stone split open and swallowed him, Rema could feel Pansy’s stare boring holes in her, but she turned her head and ignored it.
The glance had not been an invitation for Rema to follow Draco, but she didn’t care. She checked her watch. 8:16. Of course, Draco had to be doing his Prefect rounds, making sure no one was out of bed at such an hour. She knew this was her chance. Rema hadn’t been able to catch Draco alone for several weeks, and even when they did meet, she never had enough time to ask about what she’d heard. She couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.
She wracked her brain for some sort of alibi “ she couldn’t just get up and walk out after him, or people, particularly Pansy, would get suspicious. But how was she going to let the entire house know that she was in fact not exiting the common room to follow Draco Malfoy? She had to think of something quick, before he returned and she lost her chance.
Ten minutes later, after Rema had concluded, miserably, that she had lost her chance, she was saved. The stone wall that was the dungeon entrance opened wide and produced two laughing second years, and before it closed Rema seized the moment.
“Go, Mab!” she whispered urgently, nudging the ball of ebony fur on her lap with her hand. “Get out!”
The cat obeyed, springing with spectacular agility toward the quickly-closing gap in the dungeon wall. After a couple of fantastic leaps, she was through the narrow space. Her bushy, black tail whisked through it just a fraction of a second before it snapped shut.
“Mab!” Rema shouted, jumping up from her seat and rushing across the common room, happily aware that the other Slytherins were paying very much attention to her. “Merlin, that idiot cat…” And with that, she was out of the common room and into the empty corridor.
*
A few minutes later, Rema had directed Mab ahead of her, requesting that the clever cat locate Draco and lead Rema to him. By the time she had conquered the fourth floor, Mab came soaring down a staircase ahead and wound herself around Rema’s legs, purring, only to run back up them once more and halt at the top, waiting for Rema to follow.
“So you’ve found him?” she said, rushing after the cat up three additional flights of stairs until she found herself on the almost deserted seventh floor.
Peering down the long corridor, she could see Draco pacing opposite a massive tapestry displaying Barnabas the Barmy and a bunch of trolls. He looked in deep concentration. Scooping Mab up into her arms, she decided to speak up.
“Hi,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear her. He turned around; she watched his expression shift from bewildered to almost happy to nervous.
“What are you doing here?” he said, glancing behind him and then back at her.
“What are you doing here?” Rema replied playfully, walking still forward until they were standing right in front of each other. She looked to her right at the tapestry, and then to the left at the long, blank wall. “Isn’t this the entrance to that room where we found Potter and his friends having meetings last year?”
“Yeah,” he said, obviously trying to give off an impression of calmness. “I “ er “ thought I heard someone up here, figured it was a student. Must have, er “ got away, though.”
Rema narrowed her eyes and gazed into Draco’s gray ones, hoping to find some thread of honesty there amidst the web of deceit he was quickly weaving. “Hmph,” she muttered halfheartedly. “Filch’ll catch them, I suppose. Which leaves you free… I’d like to have a word with you then, if you please.”
She didn’t let herself look away from him as he sat on his reply. Finally, standing his own guard, he spoke. “Yeah, yes. Of course.” He gave a weak half-smile that couldn’t have fooled anyone.
“So how do you use this thing?” Rema asked curiously, stepping toward the bare wall and looking it up and down.
“You just “ I, er, I think you “ just walk past it about three times and think about what you need it to be.”
“Well, that’s easy enough,” remarked Rema. She dropped Mab and quietly told her to leave. She began to pace back and forth, slowly, and thought the same thought: Give me a place where Draco and I can talk alone, without any disturbances. After walking past the wall three times, she stopped, waiting.
A door had appeared. She nodded toward it to Draco and they walked through it together.
They found themselves in a small sitting room, with a purple velvet loveseat in one corner, a grand marble fireplace in another, mismatched tables laden with candles and books scattered all about, and a single, violet-draped window in the center. Rema led Draco to the window, which framed a clear, indigo night sky that complimented the room magnificently.
When the door was sealed and Draco stood before her, Rema smiled up at him, only to see it feebly returned. She kissed him, but it took a few seconds for him to reciprocate. She withdrew and surveyed his face again, watching as he looked awkwardly out of the window.
“Draco,” she said, quite firmly, “there’s something going on here. You’re different. Over the summer, when you just…stopped writing, I thought something might have happened. And on the Hogwarts Express this summer I “ I heard you talking to your friends, about how you might not be here next year.” She shifted the position of her head and tried to catch his gaze, but he just swallowed and clenched his jaw, the reflection of the moon shining in his eyes. “I just hope you don’t mean “”
“You hope I don’t mean what?” he interrupted, looking at her with an expression suddenly contorted with aggravation. “You hope I don’t mean that I “ I might be going into my father’s line of business?”
A lump formed immediately in Rema’s throat, and she felt as though her now leaden heart had dropped down into her stomach. “You can’t be serious. Draco, I’ve been raised by pure-blood grandparents, so “” She paused. She couldn’t agree with his support of You-Know-Who; she didn’t agree. But she couldn’t say that. “You know I can at least see your side of things. But do you really need to become “ you know? I mean, it’s dangerous, isn’t it? Look what happened to your dad “”
“Please, Rema,” he scoffed. “I’m not afraid.” He didn’t look all that convincing. “And I don’t need you to give me career advice. Snape already did that last year.”
Rema sighed. “Draco, please… I know something’s wrong with you, and I know it’s got to do with Him. I’m just saying that maybe “ you’ve got your priorities wrong. This business with You-Know-Who, whatever it is, isn’t treating you well at all.”
“Well, this kind of work isn’t supposed to be a piece of cake,” he snapped. “I can handle whatever He puts on me, all right? I’m fine.”
The lump in Rema’s throat swelled. “So you are working for him…”
He seemed to realize that he had said too much. “That’s not what I said. I “ I meant that “ that if I was working for him, and if I had a mission, I could do it. So “ just don’t worry about me.” His face was paler than she had ever seen it.
“I’m going to try to believe you,” said Rema, but she could feel the hollowness of the statement as soon as it left her lips. “Just “ please know you can talk to me. You-Know-Who or not, you can talk to me.”
Draco turned to the window again. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”
“It would just be so much easier if we could see each other more often,” Rema mumbled, more to herself than to him. “Well, I suppose we’re through here. I’ll see you later then?” She got on her tip-toes and kissed the corner of his tight-lipped mouth. “I’ll leave first.” She touched his arm, then left the room and set out after Mab for the second time that night.
On the morning before the day the students were scheduled to return home for the Christmas holidays, Rema sat at the end of the Slytherin table, picking at her toast in silence. She tried hard as usual to conceal the jealous looks she was throwing down the bench at Draco, who continued to flaunt his false normalcy, and Pansy, who continued to devour it. It was difficult, however, resisting the urge to glance every few seconds to her left, for from across the table her friend Helena would have noticed in an instant. So, growing used to the constant secrecy, she put on her calmest face and retained her signature Head Girl posture “ head erect, shoulders back, and nose obnoxiously turned up.
“Eddie Carmichael is looking this way,” Helena said with excitement, tossing her waterfall of brown hair glamorously. She fixed her gaze on the Ravenclaw table and batted her eyelashes. “Oh, Rema, you have spoken to him about me, haven’t you?”
“He said he thinks you’re rather pretty,” Rema said offhand; she was glad for Helena’s distraction, for at the moment Rema couldn’t rip her eyes away from Pansy as she gave Draco’s hair a few loving strokes.
“Well, of course, don’t they all?” stated Helena loftily. “But did he say anything else? I mean, he isn’t with anyone, is he?”
“I doubt it.” Rema sighed, eager to get off the topic of Helena’s love life. “Helena, I don’t know why you’re worrying “ you said it yourself, you can have any boy you want.”
“I suppose,” Helena replied, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders dramatically. Her expression quickly became mischievous, however, and Rema dreaded what she knew would come next. “So,” her friend continued in a low, conspiratorial voice, “don’t you think it’s about time for you to make yourself remotely available?” She waggled her eyebrows. “I could give you an entire list of boys who’d love to be set up with you.”
“Please, Helena, I appreciate it, but honestly, I’ve got no time or interest right now,” Rema said quickly. “Head Girl duties “ preparation for our N.E.W.T.s “ you know I can’t handle more.” If she had wanted to move on from Helena’s romantic problems, she certainly hadn’t hoped to discuss her own.
Helena opened her mouth to speak, but someone beat her to the punch.
“Excuse me.” Draco had leaned across the table to where Helena sat, and was looking at Rema with the sneer he always wore in public. “Could I borrow that plate of toast? Goyle ate all of ours,” he said in his uncaring drawl.
Rema passed him the platter in silence, hoping against all hope that her face wouldn’t betray her by blushing. She could feel Helena’s scrutinizing gaze, but knew that if she glanced up now her cover would surely be blown.
A second later Draco was passing the platter back. Rema accepted it, still avoiding his eyes, and no sooner had it touched her hand than a folded scrap of parchment had fallen from underneath the platter (apparently Draco had had it clamped between the bottom of the platter and his hand) and onto her bacon.
Rema hastily set the platter down and grabbed the parchment before anyone else could see it. Helena was still looking at her strangely, so Rema spoke quickly. “Well, I’m off to the library; I’ve just remembered something I wanted to add to Slughorn’s Potions essay before class this morning.” She grabbed her schoolbag, discreetly stuffing the note inside, and with a fast wave at Helena, set off.
Rema made quickly not for the library, but for her dormitory. Once in the privacy of her own sleeping quarters, she opened the note and read.
Rema-
Meet me at the Room of Requirement tonight at 8:30. Think of the same place as last time. Don’t come early; I’ll already be waiting inside.
There was no signature, but Rema certainly didn’t need one to know that the note was from Draco. She pushed the parchment deep into a pocket of her robes and exited the dormitory.
*
I need the place Draco and I talked last, said the voice in Rema’s head as she strode slowly back and forth before the Room of Requirement like a pendulum. When the door appeared, she entered with anxious energy and was relieved to see Draco waiting for her by the window as planned.
She didn’t have to make the first move this time. Before she thought of doing so herself, Draco kissed her, just lightly, with the air of someone who had changed his attitude considerably.
“Er,” Rema said awkwardly, unable to suppress the smile that crept across her face. “I assume you’re feeling better…”
To her surprise, Draco smiled back. The expression that she had seen etched so often in his features now looked strange on his still placid face. The grin didn’t reach his eyes, whose shadows had grown steadily darker; however, she supposed he was trying. “I wanted to see you before we leave tomorrow morning,” he said in a forcedly natural tone.
Rema knew she shouldn’t have expected an apology from one with such pride as Draco’s, but this was equally appreciated. “Well,” she stammered. What was there to say? Finally she clumsily settled for, “Here I am.” Her spirits dropped only slightly as she felt the chances of a confession slipping slowly away.
“So, what is the best thing I could do for you for Christmas?” Draco said smoothly, his half-smile becoming slightly truer.
“Tell me the truth about what’s bothering you,” said Rema seriously.
His smile faltered. “I already told you, there is nothing wrong with me.”
Rema rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, her eyebrows raised. “I don’t know then… What did you have in mind?”
He reclaimed his flimsy smirk. “Well, I was thinking of what you said about us seeing each other more often.”
Narrowing her eyes, Rema tilted her head. “What can you do about that?”
Draco reached into his robes and produced a gold coin, which he dropped into Rema’s outstretched hand.
“I don’t need your money,” Rema said, confused, staring at the galleon in her palm.
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s not real money, Rema, it’s a fake. I’ve got a matching one; I used a Protean Charm on them. I can send you messages through it, so we can figure out when to meet each other. Just keep it on you at all times, and when I send you a message, it’ll heat up.”
It wasn’t the honest revelation she had been hoping for, but she felt that it was certainly thoughtful enough. After all, she didn’t want to ruin the peaceful mood he had set by pressing him any further, especially during the holidays. Instead she made sure to smile gratefully at him. “This is really wonderful, Draco. Thank you.” She got on her tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re, er…” he said, the tired expression taking over once more. “You’re welcome.”
Once back at Hogwarts, Draco, whether he was troubled or not, tried tirelessly to convince Rema that nothing was out of the ordinary, and she timidly allowed herself to look past his weathered visage and thinning body in the hopes that perhaps his level of stress was not as serious as she thought. The fake galleons were working marvelously. Draco, always in the Room of Requirement before her, did his best to put on an act of utmost calm when they met. However, after many a tense rendezvous, Draco’s façade had begun once more to wear off, and Rema was positive that whatever secret problems he had were becoming more challenging.
But, worried as she was, Rema was not given a reason to question Draco again until May. As always, she dined in the Great Hall with Helena “ who was now involved in a relationship with Eddie Carmichael and kept blowing kisses at him across the table. Draco’s troubles, however, were now not only stripping him of his appetite, but making her unenthusiastic about meals as well. She swirled her stew around with her spoon absentmindedly, wondering why in Merlin’s name Draco wasn’t at dinner tonight.
“Oh, what is that stupid girl crying for?” scoffed Helena suddenly. She was staring down the table with an irked expression. “I really can’t stand her, always so eccentric…”
Rema turned curiously to the spot where Helena’s eyes were fixed and saw Pansy Parkinson sobbing onto the shoulder of Millicent Bullstrode, who looked very stiff and uncomfortable. “I’ve just been to see him in the hospital wing,” she blubbered. “Oh he just looks terrible… He doesn’t deserve it!” Rema could see that no tears were falling from Pansy’s doggish eyes, but she continued to dab her face with a handkerchief as ferociously as if she were afraid of drowning in sorrow. The other sixth year girls seemed to be fooled as they patted her shoulders and whined with sympathy.
“Who’ve you just been to see?” a younger student asked.
“Draco Malfoy!” Pansy shrieked, making the boy who’d addressed her jump a foot into the air. “Harry Potter attacked him!” She dissolved into dry hysterics once more.
Pansy may as well have smacked Rema across the face. Draco was in the hospital wing. He had been attacked. Pansy had been there to see him already. And he had insisted that nothing was wrong. Her mind was swimming with choppy, unfinished thoughts that together made her feel nauseated. But, somehow, she was able to come to one intelligent conclusion: this had something to do with Draco’s secret.
She was feeling queasier by the second, and her head was throbbing. She couldn’t decipher whether she was worried about Draco being injured, angry that Pansy had been to visit him first, or confused about how this factored in to whatever was bothering him.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Rema muttered, rushing from the table and hoping Helena wouldn’t connect two and two.
“Was there something in the stew?” her friend called after her.
*
By nine o’clock, Rema’s hand was trembling as it reached for the door of the hospital wing. Pulling it creakily open, she peered down the long aisle between the clean white beds. There were only two occupants: a small boy at the very end of the left row who sat up coughing violently, and Draco. She saw the latter lying, his eyes half-closed, in a middle bed to the right. Madam Pomfrey being nowhere in sight, Rema approached Draco’s bed cautiously.
He raised his drooping eyes to her as she stood next to him. The window above his head let in a torrent of glistening moonlight, which gave him a most unsettlingly ghostly look. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his face was actually paler now as he lay pitifully atop his crisp sheets, with which his thin, papery skin blended eerily. An opening in the top of his half-buttoned pajama shirt revealed heavy bandages.
Rema unstuck her throat and swallowed. “What happened to you?” she said with a voice barely over a whisper.
He looked away and took a deep, slow breath. His gauzy chest rose and fell dramatically with the rhythm of his hoarse breathing. “Just a bad curse, that’s all. Madam Pomfrey’s got it fixed; nothing to worry about.”
Rema let out a nervous, curiously sinister laugh. “Nothing to worry about?” she breathed. “You’re bandaged up like someone’s cut you in half, Draco.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly. His eyes were focused everywhere but on her, eventually landing on the small boy across the way, who had stopped coughing seconds before and, Rema saw, was now gawking at them. Draco’s face became twisted with rage. “What are you staring at?” he snapped. “Ten points from Hufflepuff! Go on, then, mind your own business!”
Terrified, the boy retreated deeper into his bed and pulled up the covers, then turned over and faced the wall behind which Madam Pomfrey’s office resided.
“Draco, please, calm down. If you would just tell me what happened“”
“Potter and I got into it, all right?” he shouted, now turning his fury on her.
The door at the end of the hospital wing burst open and Madam Pomfrey came bustling out. “What in Merlin’s name is going on out here?” Her eyes flew from Rema to Draco. “Oh, not another one! All these silly girls coming in and getting you riled up!” she cried, exasperated, as she hurried over and began fluffing the pillows underneath Draco’s head. She rounded on Rema. “Now, you just leave this boy alone, he’s been hurt and he needs his rest! How do you expect him to get better when you’re in here, pestering him“”
“She’s fine!” Draco interjected, now looking more agitated than ever. He waved Madam Pomfrey away with as much energy as he could screw up.
The nurse looked offended. “Well, if you don’t want to get better… I see I’m not needed here; I suppose I’ll just let you mend yourself then, since you know what you’re doing!” She stalked off, muttering to herself. Rema heard the words “careless,” “ungrateful,” and “ignorant.”
Then she remembered what Draco had said before their interruption. “You and Potter? What, like a duel? He cursed you?”
Draco rolled his eyes again. “We were cursing each other, and his got me. That was it.” As he said it, she could see him wincing, his mouth twitching in what was unmistakably anger and possibly embarrassment.
Her head was bustling with questions. Why was it so hard for him to explain himself? Was she that untrustworthy? “But…where? How? I don’t understand why you can’t tell me. I’ll understand, whatever it is.”
“I was in the girls’ bathroom,” he said shortly. “No one ever goes in there because of Moaning Myrtle, and I wanted to be alone. He walked in, and we don’t get on too well, in case you haven’t noticed, so we just got into it. Enough for you?”
It pained her immensely to see that he so obviously didn’t want to talk to her about this. But she wasn’t going to back down. It was not enough, and, frankly, she was sick of this constant battle for information. “The girls’ bathroom, eh?” she said, feeling the anger boiling up inside of her. After having been kept in the dark for so long, she was ready to burst. “Wanted to be alone, eh? I see, you fancied a chat with Moaning Myrtle. Couldn’t find anyone else to talk to, could you? Couldn’t find anyone who would understand you? I can sense you didn’t find me to be trustworthy enough, but God, Draco, that wailing ghost is better? Why don’t you just blast me with the Cruciatus Curse right now, it’d be less painful.” She couldn’t stop herself; she was fuming.
“Just shut up, Rema!” he shouted with a fervent glance toward the coughing boy. “We’re not talking about this now!”
“That is ENOUGH!”
Madam Pomfrey was back. She looked as livid as Rema felt. She stormed toward her and grasped her by the shoulders, steering her toward the door. “Never in my life… Such reckless students…!”
As she was forced toward the exit, Rema whipped her head around and glared back at Draco. He was staring directly ahead, breathing heavily, his lip curled like Professor Snape’s so often was. Rema saw that he was shaking. She faced ahead once more and was thrust out the door, so hurt that it felt like Draco and not Madam Pomfrey had slammed it behind her.
She didn’t allow herself to cry until late that night, lying in bed, with the curtains pulled around her and a Silencing Charm safely in place.
*
Rema spent the entirety of the next day in a constant mental battle with herself. Regretful for having lashed out at Draco, scornful at his unwillingness to open up to her, and severely worried over his current physical state, she couldn’t for the life of her concentrate properly in her classes, and people noticed. In Potions, she skipped three entire steps in Professor Slughorn’s instructions, causing her mangled concoction to actually transform her cauldron into a live octopus, which wiggled and writhed about her desk until Slughorn could successfully change it back to its inanimate state. In History of Magic, she began her notes with “The” and left off there, remaining dazed and unmoving for the rest of the lesson. And in Defense Against the Dark Arts, her best subject, she couldn’t even produce a ghost of a Patronus, and Professor Snape, who had never treated her excessively badly (though with nothing close to favoritism), gave the entire class extra homework.
By dinner, having passed the stage where playing with her food would suffice, she merely sat still on the bench while Helena self-consciously ate small portions of all the unappetizing foods at the table, like sprouts and lima beans and cabbage. It wasn’t until she felt something warm “ no, now hot “ in her pocket that she was snapped back into reality.
It was her fake galleon. A flock of butterflies erupted in her stomach, for messages from the fat, gold coin always made her anxious. She glanced around; no one was paying her any attention. Feeling safe, Rema took out the galleon and looked for the message: she needed to see him in the hospital wing tonight at eight o’clock. Her heart was fluttering now. It was glorious… They were going to sort things out. Draco wanted to talk to her.
After dinner, Rema told Helena that she was going to the library, taking care to grab a few books from her bag, and hurried quickly toward the hospital wing. It didn’t occur to her that Madam Pomfrey might not be very keen on seeing her again, however, until she opened the hospital wing door and saw her bending over Draco.
“You again?!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed from across the room, her eyes suddenly wide with fury. “How dare you even come in here?!”
She had made it halfway down the aisle before Draco spoke. “She’s okay, Madam Pomfrey, we’re studying!” he said hastily, the familiarly commanding tone back in his voice. “Since I’ve missed my lessons today, she’s catching me up.”
“She’s not in your classes,” Madam Pomfrey snapped suspiciously at Draco. “She’s not even in your year.”
“Which is why I’m helping him,” Rema interjected, cottoning on. She took care to show the books she was glad to have brought. “Who better than Head Girl to tutor him? I’ve already taken and passed all his classes.”
Madam Pomfrey still looked very reluctant, but nevertheless she finished pouring medicine down Draco’s throat and went back to her office wearing a sour expression.
“We’re alone tonight,” Draco said quietly when Rema had reached his bedside. Sure enough, the coughing boy was gone. “So I decided “ we could talk.”
“Listen, I’m so sorry“”
“Stop,” Draco interrupted. He sounded serious.
Rema closed her mouth obligingly. It seemed that this time, he would do the talking. She didn’t allow herself to smile now, as she prepared herself for what Draco had to say. She didn’t know what to expect, though she had a hunch it wouldn’t be all flowers and sunshine. “Well,” she said timidly. “Go ahead.”
“You were right,” he said. He sounded miserable, and he didn’t look at her as he spoke. “About…you know. The work I’m doing.”
The leaden feeling was back in her heart, and her stomach turned. She ground her teeth vigorously and glanced away.
Draco pushed on. “He gave me a “ a task. Said “ if I don’t do it…”
Rema swallowed and consented to look at him once more. His face was horribly mangled with emotions, a mixture of pain, fear, and misery taking over. “If you don’t do it, then what?” she asked.
Draco’s bottom lip trembled, and he swallowed. God, she hoped he wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t handle the strangeness of it. However, his mouth soon twisted with fury again. “He said he would kill my family,” he muttered bitterly.
The ferociousness in his face was unlike anything she had ever seen written on his features. Before she could stop herself, before she could think of the whole spectrum of gruesome answers he could offer, she asked the question. “What… what’s the task?”
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “I, er…” he said in a voice that was barely audible. “I have to kill someone.”
Rema’s insides froze. Every thought running through her head ceased. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes widened with fear. And then she dropped her head, losing all incentive to keep back the tears. She let out a sob as they rolled down her face and fell quickly to the flagged stone floor. Finally getting a hold of herself, she looked up and saw that for once he was gazing into her eyes.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry…” She reached out and touched his hair, then his shoulder, then his cold, shaking hand.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut again and inhaled deeply. “So you know,” he said, struggling, it seemed, to force the words out, “why we have to stop.”
She couldn’t say she hadn’t seen it coming. His secret was so much more terrible than she had ever imagined. How could she have expected things to remain fine between them? But, then, they had never been fine. “Yes,” she sobbed. She blinked several times and squeezed out a few more tears.
Draco took hold of her hand and gently guided it open, so that her palm faced upward. He then reached for an envelope on his bedside table, from which he pulled a galleon. His galleon. He placed the gold coin in her hand and closed her fist around it. “I just“” he began. “I just wanted you to know that I could talk to you.”
Rema nodded over and over again, opening her hand and staring at the gold coin that matched hers exactly like it was the last thing she would ever see on Earth…the last gift she would receive from Draco.
The Hogwarts grounds were bathed in a combination of sunlight, sadness, and eerie silence. The magnificence of the great, white tomb against the dark backdrop of the lake was enough to cast a calm spell over the crowd. The rows and rows of chairs were now being emptied as students and other guests stood and stretched, blowing their noses or wiping tears or hugging friends. Some immediately set out for the castle once more, while others stayed back to talk or to think. Clear summer air elegantly engulfed them like a comforting embrace.
Out on the lakeshore, separate from the mourning crowd, a girl with a thin face and an upturned nose was standing alone under the shade of a tall tree, her head bowed and her arms folded across her chest. Today her green-brown eyes produced salty tears, which ran races down her high cheekbones and drenched the ends of her blonde curls. Her features would have been pleasing had she not looked so sorrowful.
Rema Crosswright was horribly grieved at the moment. From where she stood, she could see everything “ the castle, the Forbidden Forest, and all of the guests who had come to the headmaster’s funeral. But she turned away from that scene, a scene featuring a fine summer day that contrasted her mood ferociously, and focused on another that matched her emotions more accurately: the lake. She stared at its black surface, which was still rippling from when the mer-people had re-submersed their wild, green heads. Their song was over now, so that no sound touched Rema’s ears as she gazed absentmindedly into the dark depths of the water.
She gazed as if she would find something within the shadows of the lake, something to comfort her, but of course, she knew the action was in vain. Nothing immersed in that swirling mess of blackness could ease her heart, which hurt not for the death of Albus Dumbledore, but for the loss of Draco Malfoy. She didn’t know what exactly had happened the night the headmaster died, but every time she thought about it, a voice inside her head hissed that Draco had probably killed Dumbledore, and she felt sick. When she pushed the thought away, however, one thing was clear: Draco was not at Hogwarts anymore and Rema missed him.
It sickened her to ponder the possibilities of where Draco was or what he was doing at that very moment. She was sure the answers weren’t pleasant. She supposed he must be with Him. And if he was with You-Know-Who, he was with Death Eaters. She sniffed and swallowed. Perhaps he was going to become one of them. Perhaps he already had. Perhaps she had been in a secret relationship with a Death Eater all year. Her head throbbed.
Rema’s heart told her the truth: Draco had been buried in a world of darkness for a long time, and now he was really gone from her. There was as much of a chance that Rema would see him again as there was of the headmaster climbing out of his tomb that second and informing the party that he had got them good. And so it was time to forget.
Since that night in the hospital wing, Rema had taken to carrying her fake galleons with her everywhere. Her great uncle had given her a plain, thin belt for Christmas from which a small leather pouch hung, and she kept the coins inside it, dangling at her hip and hidden from view behind her robes, every day. Now she fumbled inside the pouch and withdrew the galleons, letting them rest in her open palm like something on display at a museum. The gold of the coins glimmered as the sun’s rays bounced off of their edges. For a second she closed her fist around them, moving to put them back inside the leather pouch, but she stopped herself.
And then she flung the coins away from her, sending them soaring across the lake’s surface until they plopped into the water, one after the other, and disappeared with two distinct splashes. She could just see their bright light dimming quickly as they sunk faster and faster into the depths, and she wondered how long it would take for them to reach the bottom of the fathomless lake, hidden beneath the shadows like the acquaintance between Rema and Draco had been. She continued to peer into the murky water, even though the sight of the coins had long gone, and she wondered if the lake even had a bottom, or if the coins would just float on in the dark forever.