The Dark Mark (The Girl Who Lived part II)

Oblivion

Harry's Point of View: I blinked a few times in disbelief. Had my ears deceived me? Was it all a lie? But my original thoughts were confirmed when she asked me the same question again. "What's your name?" Her name was still stuck out for my hand to shake. But I never did. I felt my world getting smaller and smaller until all it contained was this room. And even then, I couldn't breathe. I needed air. I ran out of the Hospital Wing. Away from Scarlet who wasn't Scarlet. Away from a world that no longer made sense. Away from everything. As I sprinted, I passed Dumbledore, Snape and Professor McGonagall who were headed in the opposite direction. Dumbledore caught my arm. "Where are you going? I thought the last place I'd see you is going in the opposite direction away from Mrs. Weasley". Dumbledore said, stroking his beard in confusion. Snape interlocked his hands and stretched them outward, letting the joints in his hands crack. He then began to crack his knuckles. "I didn't do anything to her. She actually did something to me. She's killing me, in fact. Scarlet...." I trailed off. She wasn't Scarlet. She may have looked and felt like Scarlet, but it wasn't her. "She can't remember". I said to them.

The fact of this, kicked me in the stomach again. Over and over. Professor McGonnagall rushed off somewhere. Dumbledore didn't say anything wise as he usually does. Instead, he continued to stroke his beard. The thought still sickened me, no matter how deep it had sunken in. "Go on. I'll make sure she's taken care of". He dismissed me.

Scarlet's Point of View: The bespectacled boy left in a hurry. "Was it something I said?" I blinked a few times. "What's his problem?" I heard a ginger boy with a bag of nothing but junk food in his hands mutter. An elderly man with the longest beard I've ever seen along with another man who had nearly shoulder length black hair that seemed as if it were greased into place entered the room. "Mrs. Weasley, how much do you remember?" The bearded man asked me. "I was at Malfoy Manor, cleaning as I always do". I said. "I see". He scratched his beard. He glanced across the room and at all the faces of the others in the room. "It's been a long day. It's past curfew. When you say your goodnight's to Mrs. Weasley, go to bed. We will work everything out tomorrow". The same man said before exiting the room. "I'm Hermoine. And this is Ginny". The girl who clutched a book in her hands introduced herself and the other girl in the room before leaving.

"Scarlet!" The door to the room flung open. Two identical guys hurried into the room and to my bed. They squeezed me into a hug and then pulled from me when I did not return their feelings. "She can't remember". Said the boy with brown hair and caring eyes. They no longer had the smiles on their faces when they entered the room. "Scarlet, do you know who we are?" They asked me. I searched through my memories. As if I had neatly tucked my memory of them deep within a file of my mind. But it seemed as though the file within my mind that acted as a data base, was deleted. Nothing came. There was nothing. "I'm sorry". I struggled to dig deeper. And from that struggle came a large headache. I placed a hand over my head to numb the pain. "It's alright, don't strain yourself". Said the kind-eyed boy who placed a comforting hand on my arm. "Well in that case, I'm your boyfriend, George Weasley". Said one of the twins. He placed his arm around my shoulder only to quickly remove it when the other twin elbowed him in the ribcage.

"I'm Ron". The boy with ginger hair with a bag of junk food in his arms stuck out his hand to shake mine. Food fell out of his mouth while he did this. I shook his hand, only to feel something sticky. "Sorry about that". He said, noticing the look on my face. He handed me a damp paper towel to wipe off my hand. "Sorry about that. It's from the candy". He said to me. "Looks like it's time to go, little brother. We should let dear Scarlet get some rest". The twins said, as the dragged their younger brother with the matching ginger hair out by the ears. "I'm Neville". There was a wonderfully warm sound to his voice. "Scarlet". I said. But he already knew this. From the look of sadness that he tried to conceal, I was easily able to see right through him. "Goodnight, Scarlet". He said, before leaving the room. This left me, Draco, and the man with the unusually greasy black hair. At first when I woke, I thought I just had a long fuzzy dream and was in Malfoy Manor. But from my surroundings, I wasn't in Malfoy Manor. I wasn't eleven. I was much larger than my eleven year-old self.

Draco was much taller. His face had matured. He had matured. His skin grayer. He was no longer the eleven year-old boy that I knew. I was missing a long gap of time. Nearly 5 to 6 years. What had happened during that period of time? As sad as it was, I wanted nothing more right now to retreat to Malfoy Manor and return to my duties. Sad, I know. But at least, I knew my place there. I knew what to do. I remembered things. I never felt the things at Malfoy Manor that I did now. In Malfoy Manor, I mainly felt inferior. As if I wasn't good enough to even grovel at their feet. But here, I felt disappointment, which was essentially worse.

Draco's Point of View: "How much do you remember?" I asked her. "I just made bread to share with the-" Her words stopped. She remembered she wasn't supposed to tell me. She thought that I would tell father. She kept her mouth shut. "How old were you? I asked her. "Eleven". She answered. She repressed quite a bit. I tried to remember that distant day that seemed foggy in my mind, but as clear as day in hers. That was years ago. How was I to remember exactly what happened when I could barely remember what I had eaten for breakfast. She was making bread... The last time she did that at Malfoy Manor, was the day she met the Weasley's.

I've heard of the necklace's power. It crowds the one who merely touches the necklace with the feeling of anguish. Incomparable sadness. It's something that kills. Claimed twelve lives so far. But it didn't kill her. It wanted her to suffer. But Scarlet could only take so much of it. So she traded a majority of her memory to rid herself of the pain. Snape and I glanced at each other. In this simple glance, we agreed on something. We would use this to our advantage. Mostly mine more than his. I liked Scarlet, and he hated Potter with a passion. It worked out perfectly. Snape introduced himself to Scarlet, sparing the details of their complicated relationship. He only gave his name before leaving. "Draco". She said to me. She finally seemed to acknowledge. "Yes?" Bags had formed underneath her eyes. It's been a long day for all of us. "Your face". She brushed her fingers across my graying skin. I held her hand and kept it there. "A bit of time has passed". I said to her. But she knew that. She sensed it. And that's what scared her the most. She yawned.

She needed sleep above anything else. "Go on to sleep, I'll make sure nothing happens to you". I said to her. These words seemed as good as gold to her. She laid down on her pillow and looked back at me. "Promise?" She held out her hand to me and stuck out her pinky. A pinky promise. Something so childish. I couldn't help but smirk at it. She tilted her head in confusion. I wrapped my finger around hers. She attempted to go to sleep after that. There were several attempts to this. Scarlet tossed back and forth.

Scarlet's Point of View: I dreamed of the endless possibilities that might fill the gap. I acted much similar to a homicide detective filling in the time frame between the death of the victim. Although, I felt as if I were both the detective and the victim. A version of me sixteen years of age with the physical body and mental capacity of an adult, the victim. And the current me with the mental capability of an eleven year-old, the detective. To a detective, an hour, though it may not seem like it, is a very long time to piece together events in perfect sequence. An hour was a lot. But six years was unimaginable. I'm not sure of my relation to those that I met in the hospital wing, but I know that they're important. I'll investigate further tomorrow. Maybe I can jog part of my memory.

Draco's Point of View: Scarlet's fingers occasionally twitched. Her hands were warm in mine. I pushed one of the hospital beds next to the one Scarlet slept on. I certainly wasn't going to sleep in one of these chairs. Occasionally, she'd mummer my name and squeeze my hands to ensure that I was still there. I'd repeat her actions. Right now, all she knew was me. I was the tether keeping her here. Keeping her sane. I was the only person who wasn't a stranger. Was someone she could trust. She could only be dependant on me. There was no Potter, Granger, Longbottom, or Weasley in her life (to her knowledge). It was only me. Draco Malfoy: Slytherin. Pure blood. In her world. Just me. I loved every second of it and would milk it for as long as it lasted.