It was a well known fact that Draco Malfoy was a jerk. An incredibly rich, spoiled jerk who was raised to think himself superior to others. That was the Draco Malfoy everyone else knew. The other Draco, however was nothing of the sort.
The Malfoy heir sat on his bed, his standard issue hospital gown not quite reaching his ankles. His blond hair was not slicked back and his feet were bare. He looked more ill than he actually was, his pale skin taking a sickly tone due to his lack of sunlight.
Draco had been locked up far too long. He sat on the bed staring at the door, waiting for it to open. The matron of the ward was a thin woman with the face of a sour lemon and had far too much experience dealing with Draco's attempted bids for freedom. Only this time, Draco had a plan. Usually, Draco didn't bother with such things, he was far too hot tempered and impulsive, but now he would have to be patient and use every ounce of his Malfoy cunning to get him out of here.
Isolation was definitely getting to him. His parents hadn't visited in ages and their brief conversations were always tinged with disappointment, but it was the subtlety of human interaction that the lonely private ward didn't offer. Draco continued to stare at the door. When it opened he would have to pretend to make a run for it, to avoid suspicion. However, he had to time his plan perfectly if it was to work, for the matron wasn't tricked easily, a fact Draco had learnt from experience.
Briefly, Draco closed his eyes in a moment of indulgence. He allowed the memories of his other self wash over him; the sounds of the Great Hall, Pansy Parkinson asking him to the Yule Ball, Professor Snape awarding points for his potion...
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, returning to the door. He couldn't afford to let himself get distracted. If he was to ever get outside of St. Mungo's and his father's influence, he would need all the preparation he could get. Still, the tales of Hogwarts always fascinated him, despite the fact that he had never set foot in the castle...
A shadow formed on the other side of the door and Draco tensed in preparation, as the door handle turned. Draco leapt from the bed, hoping to gain the element of surprise, just this once. However, the matron was ready for him, as always and Draco froze as the stunning spell hit him.
Swiftly, with practised efficiency, the matron moved him back to the bed, where she administered his potions. Personally, Draco didn't know why she bothered with the pretence. Everyone had long since learnt that there was no curing him - that's why they had made his replacement after all - and Draco had no choice but to simply glare at the matron who was so-obviously on his father's pay roll.
The matron finished her duties and locked the door behind her, leaving Draco time to make adjustments to his plan while he waited for the stunning spell to wear off.