Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Song of inspiration is Winter Song, by Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles. Story image courtesy of Alberto Sevenso.
Chapter 1
Draco Malfoy walked briskly down the hall, his Healer robes swirling around him. On his chest was a peculiar emblem, a serpent wrapped around a kylix, or wine cup. The silver insignia glared brightly against the dark blue of his robes, and as he walked, he smoothed the rumpled fabric.
Following Draco was none other than Astoria Greengrass, the Assistant Healer for this particular case. "Draco, perhaps you should glance at the file before you-"
"I like surprises."
Draco Malfoy never looked at his case files before seeing the patient himself. Astoria, glancing at the file yet again, sighed heavily, and continued walking behind him.
"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you," she muttered.
"I never say anything like that anyway," Draco said waspishly as he pulled out his pocket watch. "Room number?"
"718."
"File?"
"Draco-"
"Astoria, give me the bloody file. We're late."
Astoria reluctantly handed Draco the file as he reached the door, then hesitantly dismissed herself. Draco liked to work alone. Most Malfoys did.
The blond shook his head, sighing at Astoria's melodramatics. That woman was always worried about something or other. Draco, not looking at the file he clenched in his hand, pushed open the heavy door. Immediately, he noticed how dim the room was. Usually, it was brightly lit, so as to encourage sight. Inwardly grumbling, Draco murmured a wandless lumination spell.
"Celeritas lumos." He made sure the light was low so that it wouldn't startle the patient, then allowed his eyes to search for whoever it was he was supposed to be treating.
Sitting in the middle of the room, on the highly polished tiled floor, was a skinny girl with big, brown hair.
Granger.
He did a double-take. Why was Granger in the maximum security wing of the Mental Health and Brain Injuries ward of St. Mungo's?
"Granger," Draco called, not knowing what to expect.
The forlorn woman looked up warily, eyes frantic. She did not seem to register who he was, exactly. In fact, her eyes were devoid of any recognition, as if she had never seen Draco before in her life.
"Where's Harry?" she asked. She repeated the question again, with more urgency.
Draco stared, shocked. She doesn't remember. She doesn't remember anything.
Perhaps he should have read the file.