A/N: Heh... I haven't written on this for ages. I don't know where to take it. So here I am, writing under the influence of Sarah McLachlan's "I Will Remember You", Poe's "Haunted", and Fiona Apple's version of the Beatles song "Universe". My Draco-Amnesiac mix. Whee. Suggestions incredibly welcome! (Egh, this chapter is abysmally short. I really need ideas!!!)

Chapter 4

It was cold outside. Snow fell with a vengeance, stinging Draco's cheeks and blinding him as the flakes clustered on his eyelashes. He had nearly forgotten Quidditch practice today, reminded at the last minute by one of the large boys who seemed to hang around him.

He ran, clutching his broomstick in bitter-cold fingers, his knuckles white. 'I'm the seeker,' he thought, racing across shifting snow drifts. 'The seeker. Don't forget. Draco Malfoy, the seeker. I have to get the snitch. The seeker gets the snitch. I'm the seeker.'

He hated his name. It sounded like he was a snake with two heads, or perhaps a dragon. But he liked dragons. They were fire-breathing monstrosities, yes, but they symbolized courage, strength, vigor. Things that Draco didn't have. Things that Draco wasn't.

Draco slipped in the snow, catching himself before he rolled down the hill. He scuffed his feet carefully, digging in his heels so he wouldn't slip again.

Being a boy was... annoying. Being the same person as himself was annoying. If he was a girl, if he was someone else... people wouldn't bother him. Those other students that had accosted him in the hospital wing wouldn't have if he had never done anything to them. He must have done something.

Draco found himself wishing he were a muggle. To be called hopeless, nothing to be done for him. He was a wizard, though. He had to be a wizard. Of course. He didn't know how many times he had been blasted with memory spells, trying to find what was lost. He had wanted his memory back, at first, but now that he knew more about how he had been, once...

Draco wanted to be a Hufflepuff. All they had to do was work hard, nothing was expected of them, they weren't smart or brave or ambitious. They were... PEOPLE. And they were yellow! Draco loved yellow. It was so much more welcoming than the sickening green that decorated the Slytherin house.

He paused, carefully compiling what he wanted to be. A different person who was a muggle Hufflepuff. He raised his eyebrows. Draco could at least see if he could become a Hufflepuff, although the other two were out of the question.

He looked up at the Quidditch field, with it's towers and hoops and swooping players. A large boy he didn't recognize flew down to him. "You're late, Malfoy," he snapped, throwing up a cloud of snow as he landed.

Draco blushed. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I had forgotten. I was reading. Homework, you see. Professor Flitwick says my charms are atrocious."

"Lovely," the boy sneered, kicking off. "Just come on, will you?"

'I'm the seeker,' Draco thought hurriedly, trying to figure out how to make his broom work. 'The seeker. The seeker catches the snitch. I'm... the seeker.'