Hello everyone,

I'm still alive. Sorry for the wait. I thought I was better, I'm not. Add to that a writer's block on this story and it took me ages to get past the first few sentences of this chapter.

But I managed it now so here you go. I haven't given up on this story and plan to finish it still.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.

Days pass and Draco has his clear moments but never longer than a few seconds. Today I am sitting in my office, studying for an exam on magical diseases next week. The blonde is in the next room, playing with Dragon the last time I checked up on him. I have a listening spell on him that works like muggle baby-phones.

I stretch my arms up after a chapter about a particularly nasty illness. My ears catch Draco's humming and I have to listen closely to identify his words. He is singing some nonsensical children's song about a 'Dhalia'. It takes me a few moments to remember that that was the name of the cat the Malfoys used to own when he was very young. I am just about to relax when his tone changes from his childish voice to a more clearly pronounced version. Straightening I listen closer for any sign of distress, only to realise that he isn't afraid but sounds like he did when talking to Shenan that one time. I smile at his progress.

But before I can turn back to my book, his singing suddenly breaks off and a sharp voice a lot like the one I knew from Hogwarts sounds, "No, you aren't Dhalia. She was black and – " a break in his speech has me on my feet immediately and on my way to the other door, "Where am I?" he asks just before I can pull it open.

Dragon meows as he is probably gripped closer again, "Malfoy?" I ask as I enter the room, having learned not to call him by his first name when he has his clear moments.

He jumps to his feet the second he sees me. His usually unresponsive left arm is holding Dragon against his chest while the right searches for his missing wand. Grey eyes narrow at me as he stands defensively.

"Potter?" he glares, his anger a default reaction to cover the panic after coming to at an unfamiliar place with no memories of the recent months, "Where am I? What are you doing here? Where is my wand?"

"Calm down, Malfoy," I try to sooth him, knowing that if he panics too much, he will drop back into his child headspace.

"Calm down? I have no idea where I am or how I got here," he crosses his arms, Dragon scrambling to curl around his neck, "And what are you doing here? Is this my new punishment?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" I ask.

He glares at me, "Azkaban. They put me there…" he stops, "No, I was at the Manor and father…" once again he shakes his head, "That's not right either. A palomino horse…" he chokes, arms wrapping around himself, "No, shit, why I can't I remember?"

Seeing as he is about to break down, I instinctively wrap my own arms around him. For a moment he fights me. Then he drops and I already want to sigh that his mind is lost again, but then his left hand clenches into his shirt.

"Malfoy," I ask carefully, "Are you still with me?"

"Where else would I be, scarrhead?" he growls and his words strangely enough rip a laugh from me. He stares at me with wide eyes, "Did you lose your head during the time I can't remember properly?"

"No, but you have no idea how glad I am to hear you insult me," I can't stop the giddy feeling.

"You did loose your head," he glares, pushing himself away. His arms are still wrapped around himself. No matter how much he tries to pretend his old haughtiness, I can see the fear in his eyes. His memories might be fuzzy but he knows what he went through.

"You are at Grimmauld Place 12," I answer.

"The old Black house?" he continues to glare, "Did you kidnap me? How did I get here?"

"I didn't kidnap you," I snort, "Saved would be the more appropriate word."

"I didn't need to be saved," he spits, deep mistrust and fear in his eyes, "I have to go back. Voldemort will kill my parents if I have been gone for too long. Give me my wand back."

I stop him when he tries to go past me, "Voldemort is dead. The war ended years ago."

"It did?" he seems confused, "Shit, my memories are all jumbled up. What happened?" I open my mouth, unsure what to say for a moment which earns me a sharp look, "The truth, Potter."

I can't answer for a moment and just stare at him. His tone reminds me a lot of our Hogwarts years, the Draco Malfoy I desperately miss, but there is an added tremor that wasn't there back then. Maybe he was just hiding it. His hair is still whiter than it used to be and I doubt it will ever regain the golden colour from our first years. He is still too thin as well, bones pronounced unhealthily. His face is drawn, but at least his eyes have regained their spark for now.

"Potter!" he yells, trying and failing to hide the panic in his eyes. It seems he needs more time to rebuild his masks, "What is going on?"

"The war ended but they wanted make your family pay. However you were the only Malfoy they could judge so they loaded it all on you," I start.

"Yes," he says slowly, "I think I remember. You…" he stares at me confused and mistrusting, "You spoke up for me. Why?"

"You saved my life, Malfoy. It was only fair."

"Most people would disagree with you," he glares, "After all I deserved what I got for my crimes did I not?"

"No!" I glare at him and can't overlook how he startles at my loud voice, so I soften, "No, you didn't."

He sighs and I notice that his hand is shaking as he runs it through his hair, finding it longer than he expected it, "Yes, I did. I hurt people, a lot of them. I killed your precious headmaster, didn't I?" his smirk is weak and he looks ill.

"No, you didn't," I repeat, lifting a hand to lay it on his shoulder only to have him flinch away from it, "I was there, Malfoy. You couldn't kill him. Snape did it."

The laugh he responds with is more of a choke, "And how well that went over with Voldemort. Mother wouldn't have survived the punishment he wanted to dole out to each of us."

"So you took it for her," I realise with wide eyes.

He chokes on his breath and Dragon purrs in an attempt to comfort him, "He doesn't really care who he tortures as long as he hears someone scream."

"Malfoy," I breathe.

"What?" he snorts, "Are you feeling sorry for me now? Stop it. I got myself into it on my own and I can deal with it on my own. I don't need your help or Severus' or my mother's."

"But you didn't join on your free will, did you?"

"So what?" he snorts, wet silver eyes glaring at me, "It's not like anybody asked."

"You could have sought help," I argue, "I am sure the Order would have protected you."

"Didn't you listen? Voldemort would have killed my parents if I tried anything like that. My father isn't a good man and it would have been his own fault, but my mother didn't deserve that."

"You deserved it even less," I say with conviction.

He snorts, but hurriedly changes the subject, "But you still haven't told me what happened since my trial. Stop avoiding the question."

"You were the one who got off track," I grumble, but answer nonetheless, "They sent you to Azkaban."

"I know," he shivers, "The question is how I got away from here to there. No one escapes Azkaban."

"You didn't escape. Minister Kingsley signed your release."

"What? He would never do that. Everybody knows that I am a Death Eater. I don't think I need to show you my mark to remind you of it," confusion is added to the swirling chaos of emotions in his wide eyes.

"Because Order spies were pardoned for their crimes," I say, staring directly at him.

His eyes widen impossibly and every last one of his muscles tenses. Then suddenly he slumps over and a hollow chuckle sounds from his chest.

"So you found out…"

I am not sure what to make of his reaction so I grip his shoulder, ignoring his flinch from the expected pain this time, "What's wrong? I think that was incredibly brave. You risked your life. You and Snape are the only ones who did that."

He shakes his head, "It wasn't brave. You have no idea how afraid I was."

"And you think I wasn't?" I snort.

"It never seemed that way," he gives me a weak smile.

"Well, you can be sure I was," I rub his shoulder and to my surprise feel him relax, "Without you many people would be dead and we might have lost the war."

"You won, I had nothing to do with it," he shakes his head, "But it's unimportant. I doubt I am fresh out of Azkaban, so there was more time in between my release and now. So what else did I lose?"

"Well," I squirm, "You weren't in a good state when we got you out of there. Neither physically nor mentally. You were… I have no idea how to describe it, but it was like you weren't there, just a shell walking around. It took us months to even get you to speak. You have been out of Azkaban for over half a year now."

He sucks in a breath, tremors running through his body, "Okay, so I am insane now."

"No," I immediately correct him, "You are traumatised, not insane. But alone the fact that I am talking to you now is great progress. Never before have you remained clear for so long. I know that you can recover."

He snorts, turning his head away, and tries to dislodge my hand but he is still too weak to manage it, "Recover? For what? The world hates me. If I went out there they would rather stuff me back into Azkaban, than listen to what I have to say. I remember that my father is dead and mother is gone as well. There is no one who would care if I vanished. They would celebrate it."

"I would care!" I argue, trying and failing to meet his gaze.

"Why? Because you couldn't finish your newest project to satisfy your saviour complex," he snorts, now forcefully ripping himself away.

But his balance isn't working properly yet, so he looses control over his limbs and stumbles. His shoulder painfully hits the wall, but he doesn't make a sound as he slides down to the ground, curling in on himself. He is shaking and maybe even crying, but when I move to calm him, he lashes out, hitting in my direction.

"Leave me alone, Potter. I don't need your pity! Go away!" he screams.

"No, Malfoy please listen," I kneel down in front of him, but he kicks out and I fall backwards when his heel hits my shin.

"No one cares and no one should care. I am disgusting and broken, so leave me alone and find a different charity case!" his voice breaks as I am just sitting there frozen. He changes to mumbling, "Father was right. I should have just…"

But I never find out what Lucius said because he suddenly falls to the side, his eyes closed and left hand unresponsive again. I am just fast enough to catch him before he can hit his head on the ground. Sadness choking me, I brush over the tear tracks on his cheeks, cleaning the wetness away. A tear of my own runs from my eye as I pull his unconscious body close to me, curl around him and cry once again for a broken boy whose pain no one recognized before it was too late.

That's it for today. Thanks for reading.

One short look at the old Draco. I plan to have him spend less time in his childish haze from now on. We're still not even remotely finished with his recovery yet though.

Hope you liked it. See you at whenever I manage the next chapter.