Five days passed.

Draco was still unconscious.

Pansy and Blaise had gone to visit him several times, but their friend didn't change. He just lay on the hospital bed with his giant white wings unfolded beneath him, seeming dead to the world.

The teachers had all been working for a cure. There was a staff meeting called shortly after the incident. A roster of guards were arranged to protect the injured Malfoy boy, as Veela feathers were highly valuable, not to mention intoxicating, and the risk that Draco could be attacked again was too high to ignore. Professor Snape had barely left his bedside and was irritable and venomous in all of his classes, more so than usual. Professor Dacribade was sacked, McGonagall giving him the notice in place of Dumbledore who was still away on his operation to get the necessary information from Bulgaria. Harry, Ron and Hermione visited once, sitting by Draco's bed in the hospital going over the various aspects of the attack, and how this might affect future consequences, all the while casting furtive glances at the glowing Veela boy.

"If all the students have been given those sheets, Ron, it isn't safe for him to be left unguarded in the school." Hermione told him in their discussion.

"But I don't see what's the problem!" Ron replied. "I think it would be good for Malfoy to do what he's told for once. Knock him down a few pegs."

"I know, but would you really have that happen?" Hermione asked him.

Ron looked at her incredulously. "Yeah!"

"But what if someone nasty bonds to him? Like Dacribade?"

"Or Goyle, eurgh." Ron shuddered. "I can see what you mean."

"I think if I were him I wouldn't want to be bonded to anyone." Harry said. "Even if they treat him right, it's too much like slavery, don't you think?"

Harry had been vehemently against the idea of a bond ever since it was first introduced. Since the attack, he'd often zone out, thinking about the bond, the lack of control, the idea of being used. It gave him shivers.

"I don't think a bond could be formed that wouldn't feel like slavery." Hermione said. "From what I've read on the experiments –" (and after that fateful Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, she had read a lot, spending hours in the library and ordering Bulgarian newspapers and Veela encyclicals that were delivered to her every morning in the daily owl post.) "- even if the wizard tried not to make orders, the very fact that the person he was with was a Veela would be too much of a temptation."

"Temptation?" Ron snorted in derision. "Malfoy? As if."

"Look for yourself, Ron." Hermione cast a pointed glance at Malfoy, asleep on the hospital bed. It was one of the few moments when the trio directly looked at the Slytherin boy, as for the duration of the visit they had all been avoiding directly staring at him.

"Yeah, he has wings." Ron looked quickly, then turned away. It seemed he could spare little attention to actually perceiving the injury done to Malfoy without losing the momentum in his tirade against him. "That doesn't make him good looking or anything."

"It's not just the wings." Hermione said irritably. "When Dumbledore gets back they'll probably find a way to remove the wings. No, but do you see? He's already got the Veela features that horrible Professor was talking about. The pale hair, the skin. I actually think it's glowing."

A spasm of jealousy flickered across Ron's face. He scowled.

"Yeah, well, maybe we should turn the lights out then. See if pretty-boy Malfoy glows in the dark."

Hermione looked like she actually considered that to be an intriguing idea.

"Malfoy's always looked like that." Harry said. "The pale, pointy look, I mean."

"I know what you mean by pointy, but I think there have been some things that have changed, you know?" Hermione pointed out. "It's more like angular than pointy now. I thought his eyes changed colour too. Did you see that in the lesson? Did anyone else see that? They were all flashing and silvery."

Ron waggled his eyebrows at Hermione, engaging in playful banter.

"Looking at his eyes, were you Hermione? Were they flashing, were they? No, I don't think anyone else saw that." He smirked.

"Not like that. That's not what I mean, Ron." She whacked his shoulder with an open palm.

They continued their bickering. Harry really wasn't paying attention anymore. He was looking at the Slytherin, asleep on the white bed, with a growing curiosity. He had been looking since Hermione first motioned to him. It was true; Malfoy's skin was really shining. It was milky white, so even and pale that it made Harry self conscious about his own freckled and sun weathered skin. Hermione was right about the angles too. It was harder for Harry to see Draco as the pointy little git he had been for the majority of his life. The changes in his face made it difficult, as saying that this new Malfoy was anything but poster-beautiful would be like saying Hagrid was a dwarf.

Harry had been leaning closer and closer to the sleeping Veela. He was shocked from his reverie when Hermione called his name.

"Harry!"

He realised that in his inspection of Malfoy's changes he had subconsciously reached his hands out to touch the smooth white skin on Malfoy's face. He blinked in surprise, his fingers just millimetres away from brushing against his skin.

"I just wanted to have a look." Harry gave an attempt at an earnest expression. "Aren't you curious, don't you want to see his eyes, Hermione?"

"Well, yes, but – no!" Whispering at Harry, she leaned forward to avoid attracting suspicion from Professor Flitwick. "Harry, you can't just touch him. That's why the teachers are guarding him. What if something happens?"

"You've been Veela struck, mate." Ron regarded Harry with wary eyes. "They can do that to you. Allure you into doing things without thinking."

"I was thinking." Harry insisted. "I was thinking that maybe if his eyes were open he'd wake up."

"Don't you think the teachers would have already tried everything?" Hermione snapped. "It won't work."

Harry was inflexible. He moved to touch Malfoy's face anyway.

"Just a little peek."

Before Hermione could stop him, Harry had turned Malfoy's face to the side. Hermione gasped, the suspense was killing her.

"See," Harry stubbornly pointed out. "It's fine Hermione."

She bit her lip, still uncertain. Her moral standpoint on rule breaking was wavering. Hurriedly, she blurted out.

"Well, really quickly then."

Harry grinned, and cupping the side of Draco's face in his hand he prised open his left eyelid. The silvery-grey eye stared lifelessly out at the Gryffindors. It shone and sparkled intermittently, like shards of a mirror were embedded in the iris. The eye reflected slivers of candle light it caught from the candelabras of the hospital wing. It was such a compelling yet eerie shine, and Harry thought Malfoy's eye looked like it was made of glass, like the glazed dead eyes of a porcelain doll.

Harry heard a rustle in the corner and quickly closed Malfoy's eyelid shut. Professor Flitwick had turned the page of the paper he was marking and crossed his legs, the movement and noise distracting Harry from his musing.

"Come on." Ron said uncomfortably. "Lets go, we'll miss the feast."

The trio promptly packed up to leave the hospital wing, guaranteeing to Professor Flitwick that they had not stolen any feathers and that Malfoy's slumber remained undisturbed. Harry swallowed a flicker of guilt as he exited the hospital wing. He did not look back at Malfoy, and so the image that he left with as he proceeded to the feast was the blank shimmering of light in Malfoy's unresponsive Veela eyes.

Harry did not go back there until five days had passed.