"What happened?" I asked as calmly as I was able as Lucius fell back into his chair in shock and disappointment. "Is he okay?"

Madam Pomfrey struggled to make eye contact as she shook her head solemnly. "It should never have been attempted. I should never have consented…" Her chest heaved as a deep sigh of regret left her. "There was only ever the very slimmest of chances that it would work. The memory – that memory – is guarded fiercely by Draco's subconscious. Not even he can access it without triggering his innate magic, but once it is set off it will render him confused and disorientated until he has calmed enough for it to pass. Once it has done so, it will be as though it never happened. But it will always be there, you have to understand that – both of you." She looked sternly between us. "I cannot remove it, and Draco will have to live with the danger that it can be triggered at any time. It will be frightening and disorientating, much like a seizure, because it is not something that exists in his consciousness. There is nothing preliminary that can be done; it can only be dealt with in the moment, each individual time it occurs. You must be prepared."

I took a deep breath and nodded, digesting her words. "Yes. Yes, of-"

But Lucius was far from satisfied. "This is not good enough." His voice was thunderous, and when he raised his head I recognised the glint of anger in his eye that always made my heart sink.

"Lucius…" I lowered my tone down to a placating warning and reached out to touch his arm, employing the method I had developed during our school years to keep him in the present when he was about to lose control.

But he simply threw off my hand, fuelled by a potent combination of fear and guilt that had been brewing for the last few days. "You were supposed to fix him!" he snarled at Poppy. "You were supposed to get rid of it! You were supposed to make him normal!"

To her credit, Poppy didn't even blink. "I made it quite clear," she said with the practised patience of a veteran school-nurse, "that the chances of success were slim. As for making him 'normal'… Perhaps if you focused less on trying to mould him to fit your image and more on doing what is right for Draco, he would not be half as damaged as he is now. It is a miracle he is still in one piece, that is all I have to say. I suppose we can thank you for that, Severus, to some small degree."

Never had praise sounded so much like a criticism.

"What can we do?" I asked, trying to deflect Lucius' rising temper. "How should we prepare to move forwards from this point?"

"Be prepared," was the simple response. "Be patient and be understanding. Remember, always, that this is something that Draco will have to live with for the rest of his life, and no matter how hard it is for you – and it will be hard – it will be indescribably worse for him. Make him comfortable, make him feel safe. Adolescence, I expect, will be particularly difficult. It is very fortunate that Draco will have you here, Severus, when he comes to school."

Lucius' jaw tightened. "He will not be coming here."

Her eyebrow flashed up. "Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat and raised his chin obstinately. "Draco will be attending Durmstrang Institute when he turns eleven. It has already been decided."

Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth, and for a moment I was certain she was going to lecture Lucius on how absurd that was. Instead, she picked her words carefully and spoke slowly, "I think you seriously need to reassess the wisdom in that decision. Think about the consequences for Draco – and for you – if the memory is triggered where there is nobody who understands what happened or how to help him. Isolating him from everything he knows will only serve to make it that much harder to bear. If he is here, we can help him contain it and keep it private. Do not make him deal with it alone." The 'please' was silent.

But Lucius remained unmoved. "There will be no reconsideration," he informed her – and me – tightly. "You were supposed to fix him, and you failed. Draco has no option other than to learn to contain it and control it."

"But it is not that simple-"

Lucius' gaze was as hard as stone – implacable and unforgiving. "It will have to be."


Draco stared blindly up at the white ceiling; hot, angry tears sliding down his cheeks and pooling in his ears as he held himself rigid beneath crisp hospital sheets. Everything ached, inside and out, and there was no escape from the memories that had been released. Closing his eyes only made it worse, only made them feel more real – everything he had worked so hard to forget were now as stark as the present, each clamouring for attention and torturing him over and over again until Draco was certain he was going to go mad.

As soon as she had been expelled from his mind, she had given him a draught that was supposed to induce sleep and keep the dreams at bay. It was supposed to give him peace, she had told him, so that he would be able to recover painlessly. But it had done little good, providing little more than an hour's rest before he was jerked brutally back to wakefulness and forced to confront his reality. His father's face – twisted in anger and hatred – was bright in his mind's eye. He saw the belt too, heard the whistle of motion screaming in his ear, and felt the tickle of blood as it oozed down his spine. Desperate hope and cold disappointment flickered indeterminately within Sir's image, the emotions tumbling through Draco's heart until he just felt sick and confused and dizzy. He couldn't turn away from them – there was nowhere for him to run, no safe place to hide – they surrounded him, pressing in closer and closer until there was no space left inside himself for him.

One two three four… Draco counted every beat of his heart, concentrating hard on the numbers to keep their faces and the low-riding panic at bay. One two three four… One two three four… He shuddered and rolled onto his side, burying his wet face deep into his pillow. He didn't want to exist anymore. He had never wanted to exist. Sir had made him forget that sometimes, but it had never stopped being true. Maybe, if he pushed hard enough, he could stop existing now.


"When will Draco be able to come home?" Lucius asked, shrugging on his overcoat. "I would prefer it if we were able to get back to normal as soon as possible."

"He must go home with you today."

My head flashed up from where I had been brooding at my desk. "What? Why? Surely he has not yet had time to recover."

Madam Pomfrey shot me a withering look. "Of course he hasn't, but he cannot stay here. We simply do not have the resources to spare. It is less than ideal, but Draco must recover at home. I'm sorry, Severus, but I've done more than I ought already. The boy needs proper treatment, in a proper hospital, you know that." She was pleading with me now – the voice of my conscience – but I could do nothing but look away and wish that I couldn't hear her.

"You can take him to Mum's," I told Lucius, avoiding Madam Pomfrey's piercing, accusing gaze. "She'll be happy to have him, for as long as you want." I knew that Lucius would not be able to cope with the strain of looking after Draco in his delicate condition. The pressure would no doubt cause more harm than good to both of them. He needed all the help he could get.

Lucius nodded, raking a hand though his hair. "Thank you," he said quietly with uninhibited relief. "Yes, I will do that."

"Here," Madam Pomfrey held out a sheet of paper, "is a list of my recommendations."

Lucius snatched it up and scanned it quickly, his scowl deepening as he read it. "No," he said tersely, balling it up in his hands.

"Whether you want to deal with it or not, when Draco goes to school, people will notice." Her voice rose angrily, her patience spent. "They will notice that he cannot see properly. They will notice when he lisps. They will notice when every raised voice triggers serious, uncontrollable anxiety. And they will blame you. Whether you care about Draco or not, you are the one they will blame. And rightly so." She took a long, calming breath and closed her eyes briefly. "If you catch it now," she continued quietly, "the damage will, with any luck, be minimised. Get him glasses and braces, and purchase the drugs on that list."

"May I see?" I took the scrunched up paper and unfurled it. "These are powerful anti-depressants," I said slowly with a frown. "Are all these really necessary?"

"Yes," I was informed curtly. She moved around to stand beside me. "He should only need to take this for the next couple of months whilst he's still in recovery." She pointed them out to me as she went, a long finger trailing down her list. "This one he is to take after he has suffered a seizure. It is a milder form of the first and will aid peace of mind. And this, I believe, will be the most beneficial. Draco should always have this on hand. He should take one whenever he is about to be faced with a situation that could trigger his anxiety. It is designed to regulate breathing so that it will be harder from Draco to lose control of himself. Teach him how to recognise the signs and how to be more aware of himself, so when he goes away to school he should be able to manage his condition independently."

"He will become dependent on them." I knew the accusing note in my tone was unfair, that it was a small price to pay, but the idea of having Draco becoming reliant on man-made medication did not sit right. These were not just potions made out of natural substances that I could knock up myself – these were serious drugs that Lucius would only be able to get in London with a proper prescription. They were addictive and dangerous, and only recommended when nothing else will do.

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey agreed sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid that is a very likely possibility. But it will also enable Draco to participate almost completely proficiently. That's what you want, isn't it?" she directed at Lucius. "You want Draco to be able to uphold at least the illusion of normality, don't you?"

Lucius nodded silently. His brow was creased with deep furrows, and I could see how much he hated that he couldn't deny it.

"Well then." Madam Pomfrey thrust the list back into his hands. "You have no other choice."


The approaching footsteps, growing louder and louder with every second, sent curls of fear down Draco's spine. With a dry sob, he curled up on his side and tugged the sheets over his head, praying that they weren't coming for him, that they'd leave him alone.

He couldn't face them, not yet, not ever.

The indistinct rumble of low voices echoed like thunder in his ears, engulfing him, swamping him until all he wanted to do was scream. Beneath the covers, Draco clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes tight shut, hoping against hope that the next time he opened them, there would be peace.

There was a rush of air and a sudden, chilling cold as the sheets were whipped back to leave Draco shivering and exposed under the cold scrutiny of the adults. He didn't dare breathe; breathing meant existing. They couldn't hurt him if he stopped existing.

There was a pause, then more talking – the words were jumbled and indeterminate in his head – and then there were hands going around him from all sides, grabbing and pulling and lifting him away from the safe place he had created.

"No no no!" Draco's terror was sharp and growing rapidly, overcoming all reason and sensibilities. He twisted against the hands, shouting and shouting and kicking and hitting and biting. The more he fought, the harder they held on and the harder they tried to hold him, the less control he had over himself. He cried out as his arms were finally pinned to his sides and held him still.

"Draco."

The soft murmur of his name drove the fight out of him in a rush that left him limp and lifeless. His shoulders slumped and his head drooped onto his chest. Large tears rolled down his nose and splashed onto the cold, stone floor. He tasted salt and was sure that he was drowning.

"Draco."

He flinched sharply as my hand brushed against his cheek, wiping away the tears and smoothing the damp hair away from his eyes. I swallowed hard, doing my utmost to keep my own emotions tightly in check. I had to be calm, for him, for me, for Lucius watching us anxiously. All the while, Draco kept his eyes pressed shut – not wanting to see, not wanting any new memories. Poppy had dredged up the very worst from the pit of Draco's mind, and I was uncomfortably aware of the things he was now remembering – things that I had caused and could have so easily have been avoided if I had been just a little more careful.

"Ssh it's okay." I kept my voice a low rumble in my chest, it was more important for him to feel the words than hear them. "It's over. You're safe now. Everything's going to be better."

Draco grew heavier in my arms as, little by little, he began to relax against me. I doubted he believed what I was telling him any more than I did, but it was progress and that was the best we could hope for.

I rose slowly and passed Draco over to his waiting father. The boy didn't protest, nor did he open his eyes. It was like his mind had drifted far away and left only the shell of his body behind for us.

No-one could blame him.


A/N: Hullo! Thank you all for your wonderful patience, and to everyone who has continued to read and review - it really means the world to me! This fic is very precious to me and it *will* get finished. I've got some tricksy twists lined up for you in the near future! In other (boring) news, I'm a professional writer now! Nothing exciting, just ghostwriting, but it's great to be getting my foot in the door. I'm also working on some original ideas that I'm hoping to polish up into something awesome. More info can be found on my blog - .com, so come and hang out if you fancy it :)

Love always, Lily x