Welcome to The Curious Case Of Draco Malfoy :)

This story is written for Amanda who gave me her Dramione plot bunny and allowed me to use it for Drinny. Thanks for the inspiration, girl.

This takes place years after the war, and is canon through Deathly Hallows, but there will be nothing Cursed Child related.

As always, Queen Rowling owns Harry Potter. I just borrow the characters on the weekends.

Enjoy the fic :)


Chapter 1: Trapped

There were no signs. No warnings. No indication that something was wrong. No knowledge that anything would happen. It came out of nowhere, and it seemed it couldn't be controlled.

Draco Malfoy woke up one morning and felt as if he was trapped in his own body. He felt as if he was in a shell of himself. As if some invisible force had entered his mind and taken over, leaving him to sit in the background and watch like a spectator.

He laid back and watched as his mother called out his name. Apparently his body didn't respond. He looked at the panic in his mother's gray eyes that he had inherited. Her look pained him. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but his body wouldn't allow him to.

He soon found himself being washed and dressed by a house elf. That annoyed him. 'What the hell is the matter that I'm being bathed as if I am a child?' he thought. 'Am I really that messed up that I can't even do for myself? This shit won't fly, I've got to get the hell out of here!'

He tried his best to make himself walk out of his bedroom door, but every time he tried, his body would not move.

'The fuck is this?!' he yelled in frustration. He yelled even louder because he couldn't get his body to yell. He found himself getting frustrated.

'Come on Draco, you can do this. Move dammit, move!' he willed to himself, but to no avail.

He found himself being pulled into a ministry car by his mother. Something must have been seriously wrong if they were traveling by car. His mother was never fond of cars. She never even learned to drive.

"It's going to be okay darling," he heard his mother say. "We will figure out what is wrong and we will fix it."

Draco sighed. He could hear the worry in his mother's voice. She was always a worrier, even more after the war. When his father was arrested and sentenced to Azkaban for life, she worried if they too would meet the same fate. Fortunately for them, Harry Potter had spoke up for them, telling how she had lied about him being dead and how he had assisted in helping get Harry a wand and not identifying him to his evil aunt. That had been almost eight years ago.

"Can't this thing go any faster?!" he heard his mother shout to the driver. "My son is ill! He needs help!"

Draco wanted to touch her. To let her know that everything would be okay. If only he could move his hand. If only he could give her a nod.

Nothing. His blinking wasn't even his own.

After what seemed like hours, they finally arrived at a building. As soon as they stepped in, Draco wanted to leave. It smelled too clean. Sanitized. Reminded him of moments spent in the hospital wing at school with Madam Pomfrey after Quidditch injuries.

He was placed in a wheelchair and taken to an elevator. He listened as his mother tried to explain to the person that was with them what had happened that morning. Apparently he was not responding to his name being called. He seemed to had stared vacantly at her, as if he wasn't there. He wouldn't make a sound.

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had said her name, looked directly at her. Tried to move. He had yelled at the top of his lungs. What the bloody hell was she talking about?

They got off the elevator and he was wheeled to a bright but comfortable room. He was placed on a bed that didn't feel comfortable at all to him. He instantly missed his bed at home.

For the next couple of hours he watched as he was poked and prodded over. He was so annoyed at the situation that he could just spit. He cursed each and every person out that touched him, although apparently they heard nothing.

"It seems to me Mrs Malfoy, that your son is in a type of coma." said one of the men that Draco had eventually figured out to be a healer. "We have seen cases like this before. Especially recently. Effects of the war, I'm afraid. He's the 12th patient we have had this year with this occurrence actually."

"A coma?" said Narcissa. "But, he is awake!"

"His body is ma'am, but his mind is elsewhere." the healer tried to explain. "He can probably see and hear, but he can't respond. I doubt he knows who he is, where he is, or who we are."

Draco was absolutes disgusted. 'The bloody hell does that mean?! I know who my mother is, you wanker!' he yelled internally, wishing that he could speak it from his own mouth.

"His case seems rather extreme. It is similar to Frank and Alice Longbottom from the looks of it."

Narcissa gasped as tears fell from her eyes. She knew of them all too well. They were a married couple that were tortured by her departed sister for information decades ago. She had tortured them into insanity. Permanently.

"So...will Draco be...is this..."

"We don't know if it is permanent yet miss," said the healer. "Though rare, there has been at least three cases of this that the wizards had pulled through. Though it took them years, they did eventually gain themselves back. The Longbottoms however, did not."

"How did this happen? Draco wasn't tortured by anyone during the war."

"Could have been exposure and the traumatic events, Mrs. Malfoy. He could have gotten hit by a curse unknowingly, he could have had an episode, we cannot deduce the cause at this time. All we can do is keep him here, keep him safe from himself and others, and take as good of care of him as we can."

Narcissa put her face in her hands. She was devastated. She didn't know what to think, what to do. Her only son, her pride and joy, was laying there as if he were kissed by a dementor. She looked into his vacant grays and saw nothing. No vibrance, no emotion, no life.

"I want round the clock care." she said. "I want your best team of healers working on him. Money is no object. Whatever amount you need, I will give. Just please, please save my son. He is all I have left." pleaded Narcissa, grasping the healer's cloak.

Draco rolled his eyes. 'She's so dramatic.' he thought.

The healer turned to his wand, whispering in it. A minute later, there was a knock on the door. The healer led Narcissa to it.

Draco willed his eyes to turn towards the door. Apparently his body wasn't too keen on being nosy, because he could only look out of the window his eyes were facing. This frustrated him to no end. What good was it to be inside of himself if he couldn't even see where he wanted?

Thank goodness he could hear.

"Yes, I do remember you two. Sorry we didn't know each other under kinder circumstances." he heard his mother say to someone.

"It's quite alright, Mrs. Malfoy. The war happened much too long ago for grudges to be held by me." he heard a woman who sounded way too familiar for comfort say.

'Is that-'

"I feel the same way." he heard another vaguely familiar woman's voice say.

"You will do everything in your powers to help him then, won't you?" he heard his mother ask.

"Mrs. Malfoy, we are a team." he heard the first woman say. "While I am good at curse breaking, she is excellent at care and potions. We will do whatever it takes for however long it takes to make sure that Mal...I mean Draco, leaves this place back to the way he was. You will have your son back. We guarantee it."

He heard his mother give a sincere and satisfied thank you. He then heard footsteps heading towards him. He wanted badly to turn his own head to see what was going on, as he heard quill writing against parchment and hushed tones.

He then saw his mother's face again, her looking a bit brighter. She smoothed his hair down, kissed him on the forehead, and held his hand. He could feel her hand, and wanted desperately to squeeze it.

"My poor poor baby." Narcissa said. "You're going to be alright. You're in the best of hands. I wish I could stay, but I honestly can't remain here and see you like this. You are breaking my heart. I will be here to visit you in a few days. Please try to be on your best behavior, especially to the nice Weasley women. They will be doing all that they can to help you."

Draco could have sworn he heard his mother incorrectly. He just knew he did not hear his mother say Weasley women. Surely his ears had just played an evil trick on him.

His eyes however couldn't play any games as soon he found himself looking at two all too familiar faces.

'Oh fuck me.' he thought. 'You can't possibly be serious.'

Staring back at him were the faces of the Mudblood and the Wesealette. Hermione Granger and the only Weasley girl who's name escaped him having only really interacted with her once in school.

'Hell no!' yelled Draco. 'I refuse! I'd rather die than let these bints work on me! Someone avada kedavra me right now!'

He willed his body to react in some sort of disdain. Anything. Even a sneer.

Apparently nothing happened because the two witches still looked at him as if he was not doing anything.

'Dammit.' he scowled.