It had been a number of years since the battle at Hogwarts, yet to this young man, the memories were still oh, so vivid. Behind his closed eyes, he sometimes saw bodies dropping to the floor like flies, saw flashes of green light, heard the screams of adults and teenagers echo in his ears.

To be exact, it had been five years since. He was twenty two years of age.

The summer after the Battle, he had received an owl in August, stating that he was allowed re-entry to Hogwarts to finish his seventh-year term. After long discussions with his parents – those of which had consisted a fair bit about his future – he went back to school. The year had passed by fairly quickly, and he had gotten some of the top marks for his N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts that year.

Four years since then, and all he was doing was living in London and working at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries as a Healer. He had figured that if he had caused so much misery for others in his teenage years, he should make up for it by helping as many people as he could now.

He didn't know what had happened to those that he had gone to school with. After Crabbe's death, Goyle had cut off contact with him, either too wrapped in grief to bear seeing his friend, or because he thought that he didn't care about Crabbe's death. And to those he bullied, god only knew what was happening to them now. He knew vaguely that Potter and the Weasley girl were engaged, but of the others, he knew nothing. The Daily Prophet never said much about any of them. He couldn't imagine that Weasley and the Mudblood still had a relationship, though. A famous couple like that - well, their engagement would certainly be in the papers, just like Potter's.

He couldn't believe that he was old enough to have people his age preparing to be married. It felt like only yesterday that he was sitting in Professor Snape's classroom with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, making fun of Neville Longbottom and his potion catastrophes.

Remembering a particularly hilarious moment, Draco Malfoy laughed out loud in his small flat. The sound echoed dully through the house. The man adjusted his robes, and looked at himself in the mirror.

His pointed face had filled a bit, his jaw stronger. He let his hair hang loosely now, his bangs sometimes falling into his steel grey eyes. His gaze flickered to his own eyes, and all he could see was the ghosts of his past: the lives he had taken, the monstrosities he had seen.

He swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of memories resurfacing, and in the mirror, his Adam's apple bobbed prominently.

With one last glance at his appearance, the man turned on the spot and disappeared with a loud pop, only to reappear in an alley way just outside of St. Mungo's Hospital.

The fair-haired man stepped out of the alley and in front of the ugly red-brick building called Purge & Dowse Ltd. The sign was fading drastically, the letters almost completely illegible, colour drained from them by the sun and the hard rain. Draco walked up to the dummy shop window, not even glancing at the other displays, and knocked on the glass with his knuckles.

"I'm here for work," he muttered.

The dummy's lopsided mouth opened. "Bit slow this morning, aren't you? Couldn't have apparated right into the building?" It was a bossy voice, one that made the man think of the current Hogwarts headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.

"Whatever," Draco said testily, annoyed that the dummy had the audacity to talk back to him. Without another thought, the Healer stepped right through the glass and emerged on the other side, now facing the simple reception area of St. Mungo's.

His eyes flickered to the front desk where the WelcomeWitch always sat, and what he saw made him swear under his breath. A pretty redheaded girl sat there, talking to a man with a miniature second head growing out of his exposed shoulder.

That was the WelcomeWitch that had become obsessed with him after a very drunken one night stand. Thankfully for Draco, she was too busy helping the man to notice him slip past her and into the Healers office.

The office was more of a common room for the Healers; it was where they went on their breaks and such. The only person in the room at the moment other than Draco, was the Head Healer. He was a beefy man, with bushy grey eyebrows and and thin-set mouth, giving him the appearance of someone very strict. But if you looked closer, you'd see the immense laugh lines coating his visage, and once he spoke, it was obvious he didn't have a nasty bone in his body.

"Good morning Draco," he smiled at the blond, and poured himself another glass of pumpkin juice.

"Morning Cornelius," the younger replied, staying awkwardly by the door. He had just come into the room to avoid the WelcomeWitch, and his shift started in five minutes on the first floor with the creature-induced injuries.

Cornelius busied himself with some papers on his desk, before letting out a gasp and looking up at Draco with relief.

"Oh thank Merlin I remembered!" he exclaimed, causing Malfoy to jump slightly. "You're working in Spell Damage today, seeing as Christina's called in sick with some sort of Muggle flu."

"I've never worked in Spell Damage before though..." he countered hesitantly. He would make a complete fool of himself for sure. For the past four years, he had been learning the ropes of healing on the first floor, and they expected him to go to the fourth floor already?

Cornelius waved his comment away. "Nonsense. Anyway, there's always a first time for everything. It might as well be today."

With a small sigh, Draco left the room and went to the nearest staircase without passing through reception, and he began the four-story climb with a heavy heart.

x x x x

On the fourth floor landing, a Healer by the name of Wendella came out of her tiny cubicle office (one was stationed on each floor) and greeted him. She smiled and held out her hand, which he gratefully shook. 'At least I won't have to work with a bitch,' he thought.

"So," Wendella began. "I know that this is your first time on a different floor, so I'm starting you off easily. Today you'll just take care of the indisposed patients, in one of the closed wards. Perhaps the Janus Thickey Ward will do well for you."

The pair of them made their way down a bright corridor, and stopped outside the properly marked door. Wendella pulled out her wand and with a quick whisper of "Alohomora", the door clicked happily, waiting to be pushed open.

As Wendella opened the door, she continued to speak to Draco. "We've got three in this ward - used to be four, though. Do you ever recall a Gilderoy Lockhart? He was mighty famous a few years back, and he taught at Hogwarts for a year. Well, the poor chap, he came down with Dragon Pox. Had to move him down to the second floor. He died there a few months back." Wendella sighed deeply, and repositioned her hat. "Mighty shame... He was such a sweetheart.

"Anyhoo, right now we've got three, like I said earlier. An older married couple, who had been tortured to insanity back when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named first rose to power. They're harmless, really. They like to come up to you and pat your head or steal your hat, or they'll grunt a bit. That's it, though. Typically when they grunt, it means they need to go to the bathroom.

"And our third occupant is a war heroine, from that awful Battle of Hogwarts a couple of years ago. About a month after You-Know-Who was killed, she simply collapsed and hasn't woken up since. Dunno what's wrong with her."

Draco wasn't listening anymore. He could only hear chaos around him. Bodies littered the floor, and there was blood drenching his robes, making the skin underneath chafe as he moved. An unmasked Death Eater, MacNair, came into his view, battling with Potter's ginger girlfriend. As if on its own accord, his wand raised to chest height and he shouted the Killing Curse and directed the jet of green light straight at the Death Eater, who crumpled to the floor. The Weasley girl looked around frantically for her savior, but her eyes passed straight by Malfoy, not giving him a second thought.

With a hard blink, he was standing in St. Mungo's again, but now with a pounding headache. Wendella hadn't seemed to notice his dazed reverie, and now led him to see the patients.

The two insane patients had dead, white hair that stood on end. For the moment, they were both fast asleep, but the deep circles under their eyes were still prominent. Draco felt a pang of sympathy for the pair of them.

Wendella led him to the farthest end of the ward, to the bed right by the large window.

In the bed was arguably the most beautiful woman Draco had ever seen. She had long brown hair that fell on her pillow in thousands of small curls. Her skin looked to be porcelain, and the girl's frame looked slender but strong under the hospital sheets. Her face was serene, and if the man didn't know any better, he would have just assumed that the woman was simply asleep.

But there was something familiar about her that Draco couldn't quite place. He took a few steps toward her, conscious of Wendella watching him. His steel grey eyes stared intently at the girl's face, forcing his mind to remember who she was. After a moment...

His jaw dropped in shock. His eyes widened, and he tried to rid himself of the thoughts he had had about her only moments before. It was impossible. How could this be her? She had been so frumpy and unappealing in their school years. What in the hell had happened?

It was Granger.