Gaining Memories
A/N: Sorry for the long ... long wait. Got a huge writer's block that I'm trying to get away by throwing dungbombs at it. Thanks for everyone who reviewe - *cough* send an owl for the Draco column! This is the first and last chapter were I will use the reviewer's letters.
Chapter 10 - Hunting for memories
Wasting full of paper
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Lost of time, Draco wandered around aimlessly around the hallways of Hogwarts. He did not know what he was searching for, just something that would at least help him with some kind of hint. Something that would let him know what the heck had happened the past month of his life. But of course, he wasn't really a lucky gal, so you could count on it that it didn't really hit him in between the eyes.
Draco sulked and randomly kicked a door that was closest to him. He needed something, a sign, a hint - anything. Just a few days ago he was determined to find out what had happened, and the first person to ask was the Weasley girl. Only, he had found out that the Weasley girl hadn't come down from her dorm in a week, which was really bad news, seeing as she was probably the only one that wouldn't run away from him if he asked something.
Maybe this was just one big joke. One big joke to make him go really insane, and the rest of the school could get a good laugh out of it. But somehow, he doesn't believe it is a joke. Sometimes, he remembered stuff. Not real flashbacks, but sometimes a scent would trigger a thing in his mind that said; I know this scent! Nothing big though.
Draco lost all hope when he found out the Weasley girl was pretending to be sick, there was no one else he could ask.
Or was there?
Something had happened to Parkinson the night that he couldn't remember the past month, maybe she had something to do with it. For the first time in his life, Draco was really happy to see Parkinson come out of the door he kicked just seconds ago.
Her head popped out of the door and when upon seeing Draco, took off with great speed to land in his arms.
"Draco! You came to see me, how sweet," she cooed and started hugging him. Draco pushed her off of him, but being carefully not to offend her. He circled her and pretended to be interested in her. Parkinson batted her eyelashes at him and blew him a kiss. Draco ignored the vulgar gesture and scratched his head, thinking deeply. Is he sure that he knows Parkinson knows something that everybody knows but he does not?
"Parkinson, can I ask you something?" Draco asked. Parkinson eyes widened at the mention of `ask you something' and smiled at him.
"Of course!"
He nodded and slowly breathed in. "What happened to you a week ago? When you were send to the Hospital Wing?"
There was a long silent pause while other students started moving out of the classroom behind them. Parkinson looked in Draco's grey eyes and was tempted to wether tell him the truth, or just lie about it. Draco felt his heart stop and waited for the answer, maybe the answer to all his questions.
"I got hexed," she simply stated.
Draco frowned, he knew now for certain that she was hiding something from him. "By whom?"
"I don't know, it was too dark to see." Parkinson answered with a snappy tone. "Why would the person attack you?" Draco urged on, he wasn't about to let go of the matter.
Parkinson glared at Draco. "I don't know! Geez, what's up with the questions?" She was getting rather defensively. Now she was acting suspicious, did she had a major part in this whole ordeal? This whole thing was getting complicated by the minute, oh the horror.
Draco advanced on her and Parkinson slowly backed away from him, up untill the wall. "Parkinson," he breathed out in a deadly whisper.
He saw her visually flinch and she started stuttering with her words. "For the last time, Draco. I don't know who the person was that hexed me."
And with a silent shriek Parkinson dashed out of the hallway, leaving Draco in the middle of a student crowd.
--
If his father had broken out of Azkaban, plotted against his own son, send Death Eaters undercover at Howarts to get him bloody out of his mind - literally, somehow put the Weasley clan in ultra-mode, would that mean that he had spent too much time reading other people's problems? Sure, call him crazy, but he has lost his memory and you can't blame him for it.
He always wondered why it was called `insane' when you are, lets say, a Malfoy, you are sane. And if you are a Weasley, you are insane. But if it's called insane, wouldn't the Weasleys be in the sane? Okay, he had definitely read too much crap about students that had send him their problems. Maybe it was time to answer some of them, it would at least take his in the sane mind off the insane thoughts.
Draco mumbled something about insane Weasleys under his breath and took out one of the letters that were stashed underneath his bed. Over the days, he had gotten quite a few letters from students, gaining all the more popularity. Some of them were - reasonable, and some of them were a bit off. But, why the heck should he care, he was the one that lost his mind.
So he sat back in his bed, quill and parchment in one hand and various letters in the other hand.
--
Dear Draco,
I have a problem with people noticing me. What should I do? I really want to get to know more people and make friends but the problem is that my parents are bloody hell strict, and won't let me go out with friends. It is because they read too much news I suspect. but I still want to get more of what I call "attention".
Love, Lilkim
--
Lilkim,
The problem you have is with yourself. If you would want to go out, just go. There is something called `sneaking out'. Of course, you need to be a specialist in that department (like a Slytherin), but if you are willing to break the rules of your strict parents, just go out. It doesn't really matter where, to the park, or some other wizarding place crowded with the likes of us. If you want people to notice you, do something remarkable - like hexing Parkinson for instance.
--
Dear Malfoy,
I don't know why in the world someone would be giving you, the git of our century, a column of your very own when
good people, a.k.a not you, deserve it themselves. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I like this boy, actually I
fancy him really but he's not in my house. My devotion to my slimy housemates must stand according to my
housemates. What should I do? Ask this guy out who's from a different house or stick with my own snakes?
Green Stuff
--
Green Stuff,
Once I find out who you really are, you're in for a bit of revenge by your hard spoken words about me. Anyway, just stick with the Slytherins - after all, we're the best house.
--
Dear Draco,
I've been bitten by Hunckle Bees and the first boy I saw was ahh ... a Gryffindor. Now I am starting to fancy him.
I want to tell him how I feel but how can I?
Ravenclaw who loves Ro- A Gryffindor
--
Loony,
Stop singing that stupid song for instance, even I think it's getting old. Try to stomp him on his foot or something - that will get his attention. And if you want to say how you feel; send a singing Valentine.
--
Draco snickered at his own replies. Last time he had ever heard from a singing Valentine was years ago. Four years to be exactly. The last time he heard a singing Valentine was also the first time he heard one, it was from the Weasley girl - to Pothead of course. It surprised even him that he knew it was her who send it, but then again, he is a Slytherin.
--
Dear Draco,
I'm dearly in love with you! I think you're the hottest guy in school. Would you ever consider a 4th year
Ravenclaw?
Hopelessly in love
--
Hopelessly stalker,
Stop reading fanfiction.
--
There, Draco was done for today. Finally, he was getting a little tired of all the letters. Though none of those problems were bigger than his.
Draco stopped thinking and blinked a couple of times after he realized how bizarre this situation really is.
"The whole world is just out to get me," he mumbled under his breath and slammed his eyes shut. While listening to his surroundings, Draco tried to concentrate and remember. Anything would be good, just a speck of memory that explained a little of this ordeal. Really, anything would do. But the memory did not come, it will never come he realizes.
It will never come unless someone tells him.
But no one will tell him.
Everybody knows.
Except for him.
Draco's blood started racing through his veins, his heart speeding up a little. The anger boiled deep down inside of him. He gritted his teeth and balled his fists. Why did this had to happen to him? Why could he not remember? Why is everyone refusing to tell him? Did something bad happened? Did he kill someone? Did his father killed himself? Had he discovered a secret? Had he made a fool of himself? Had he broken something? Just what in the hell was it that everyone thinks he's gone soft but remain a large distant from him? What the bloody heck had happened?
Without intending to, his emotions got the better of him and his magic powers deep within him showed his true form. His heart felt wide open as he glared at Blaise Zabini's bed. It lit on fire.
"Oh great, maybe I'll throw myself on it and die, then all of this will go away."
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