All she had ever said was 'what's wrong, Draco?'
For the years before, Sally-Anne Perks was like wallpaper. He always knew she existed… but he never really noticed her to be anything out of the ordinary. Pure blooded, of course— Slytherins usually are— with mousy brown hair and muted hazel eyes. Draco had, in all honesty, always seen her as more of a Hufflepuff than anything else. She was an extraordinarily average girl.
"What's wrong, Draco?" Sally-Anne asked, innocently enough, as potions let out. She had noticed, every day, as Draco was the first one out of the room, as if he was hiding something.
At first, he ignored her. He didn't need to include anyone else in this. But she was persistent; she half-jogged to keep up with the much-taller blond. When she got close enough, she could clearly see that he was breaking out in a cold sweat. Still he tried to shake her— he loosened his tie, beginning to hyperventilate just slightly. Shakily, he reached for his wand and turned on his fellow Slytherin. "Relashio!" he barked, and she stumbled back, raising her arms to defend her face from the sparks. It was a soft blow— his quivering hand caused the spell to sway to the right— but it was enough to make Sally-Anne stop in her tracks, staring after Draco as he walked quickly out of her sight.
Draco thought he had shaken the curious girl, but a few days later, she approached him again, this time as he was walking back and forth in front of the blank wall, his eyes shut as he focused on his need for the Room of Requirement to appear. Of course, Sally-Anne had no idea what he was doing. Almost completely oblivious to the Inquisitorial Squad that most of her fellow housemates had joined the previous year, she hadn't even heard of the 'Come-and-Go Room'.
"What's wrong, Draco?" she asked again, causing him to jump, drawing his wand out of instinct. But when he realized that he was in no immediate danger, his fear and panic gave way to rage and annoyance. He was prepared to fire a 'Petrificus Totalus' in her direction, but he hesitated when he saw her own wand raised. Her hand was perfectly steady, with a look of genuine worry on her lightly-freckled face. He instead merely sneered at the aloof sixth year and turned away, walking quickly. But behind his steely gaze, Sally-Anne could sense the slightest hint of desperation.
Weeks passed, and the day drew nearer. The annoyance of Sally-Anne Perks was all but forgotten to Draco. Of course, at that point, mostly everything was forgotten. He couldn't remember a day where he wasn't dreading the future. But Sally-Anne didn't seem like wallpaper to him anymore— now she was more crucial to his life. He would never admit it— he craved for her to ask him once more what was wrong. Maybe, if given just one more chance, he'd find a way to get some support, or maybe even some sympathy. And, as much as he hated to think of it, the very fact that she was concerned about him made him feel ever-so-slightly at ease. Even his friends, his fellow Slytherins, didn't dare inquire about it.
Just as he was getting over it, she showed up again. It was winter, Draco was staring out over the snow-covered grounds, when Sally-Anne silently approached him. "What's wrong, Draco?" she asked again, holding her wand tightly under her robes. Draco didn't threaten her. He barely moved at all, just turned his head slightly to look at her, nodded, and turned his gaze back to the undisturbed blanket of snow. The duo stood there, in the middle of the night, staring blankly, with no sense of time at all.
Since then, Sally-Anne's constant question became a daily, frequent event. "What's wrong, Draco?" she would ask the first time she saw him, each day. The only signs that he ever showed of hearing her was the slight lowering of the tension in his shoulders. This routine happened daily until late June, when just once, Sally-Anne didn't see Draco that day.
He brushed past the aloof Slytherin during the early hours of evening. Quickly, Sally-Anne spun around, running after him. Something was… wrong. Only something so erroneous would cause Sally-Anne to even consider breaking rules such as 'don't enter the men's restroom'. Draco was shuddering and grasping the sink, sobbing. For once, Sally-Anne said nothing. A few minutes later, slowly and silently, Sally-Anne stepped forward, lightly wrapping her arms around his waist.
It didn't last long— almost immediately, Draco spun around and shoved Sally-Anne forcefully, enough to make her stumble back a few steps. He screamed, sobbing still, the bottled-up stress finally leaking out.
Sincerely unsure what to do, Sally-Anne simply stood there, hoping that her presence alone would calm him. Not two seconds later, he spun on her once more, wand out, and choked out, "Velieris."
Suddenly, Sally-Anne felt her body go cold, and she found herself completely transparent. And at almost that exact moment, she heard Draco mutter, "Petrificus Totalus." She was then completely bound, lying helplessly as Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived™ ran in only a moment later, shouting a spell.
Sally-Anne Perks couldn't recall any events past that when she woke up a few days later in the hospital wing. If it weren't for Moaning Myrtle, perhaps she would have never been found. Myrtle had complained to anyone who would listen about the 'half-dead girl stinking up the second floor bathroom'.
The next day, Albus Dumbledore was murdered.