Disclaimer: The only thing I've ever really owned in my life was a picture of Sean Biggerstaff, so you can imagine that don't own any characters from the Harry Potter world.

Chapter 9 of Gray Skies and Emerald Eyes – A Look into Someone Else's World

"Albus, this is serious! He has scars all up and down his arms, thighs and ankles! There are new ones too! Whatever happened to him last night must have been so awful! I was worried he wouldn't make it through the night, he had lost so much blood! His breathing was so shallow, but that's not all I found! On the back of his right leg, there's a large scar that goes from the knee all the way up his thigh! I just know he didn't do that!"

"Poppy-"

"Something has happened to him Albus. I can just feel it. How could we have been so careless?"

"Please Poppy, don't cry. I will see what I can do."

Madame Pomfrey was not a mean person. Really, she wasn't. She was an expert at diagnosing injuries and assigning the right medicine. She was considerate of the students that came to the hospital wing with a wide range of maladies, from zits to whole bones being removed.

She knew about the talk that went around. How all the students called her crabby and old. How she was one of the meanest staff members around. How she never gave them candy, it was always fruit. How her concoctions tasted horrible, and burned their throat on the way down. How they were hardly every allowed to visit friends when doing homework. But she was not a mean person. She just knew when to draw the line between pampering a patient and helping them.

And Harry Potter was someone she needed to help.

It was 5am on a Saturday morning when he had been brought in. Not surprisingly, by the young Mr. Malfoy. The young Potter was fast asleep in the other boy's arms, a smile on his thin, delicate lips. He looked worse than she had ever remembered seeing him before, and that was saying something. There were dark circles under his eyes, and from what she could see he had been, at some point or another, crying heavily. Mr. Malfoy had just stared at her with blank eyes, hiding all emotion. A trick he had picked up from his father, no doubt.

She had ushered him to the bed in the farthest corner, where he placed Harry onto the sheets with a carefulness she had not seen in the boy since he had come to Hogwarts. From the look in his eyes she could see things were different. Very different. She wondered if it was for the better.

"Mr. Malfoy…" she had said in a whisper as to not awaken Harry, "May I inquire as to what this is all about? And why exactly you are out of bed at 5:15 in the morning?"

"Please Madame, not now! We need to change the bandages on his wrists," was the boy's rather urgent reply.

She looked at him blankly as he carefully took Harry's arm and pulled up the sleeve of his robe. His skin was covered in a tight white bandage. He carefully peeled back the sticky material, and Madame Pomfrey was very glad she had taught herself not to gasp. Blood caked the wound and bandage, and it was obvious that the blood had not yet completely clotted. She recovered quite quickly from her shock, a task that came in very handy for situations just like this, and went to work. A few minutes later she had cleansed the wound and had wrapped it in a new bandage. Securing it, she turned back to Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you do not explain what in Merlin's name is going on this very instant I swear I'll send you straight to Du-"

"Madame, no! I can't see the headmaster just yet! Just let me explain," his voice was calm but there was a look of pleading in his gray eyes.

"Fine. Let's go to my office."

He nodded. She walked off, but didn't not notice the glance he gave Harry before walking off. She was aware of the two's friendship, but the look he had given Harry worried her. Something told her this was way beyond her previous knowledge of the two. She closed the door to her office and gestured to the chair in front of her desk, which he seemed to gladly sink into. She sat in her own chair, shifting rather uncomfortably in the soft leather.

"Mr. Malfoy. Let us get one thing straight. You are not setting a foot out of this office until you tell me what in the bloody hell is going on!" she didn't usually swear, but it was 5:25 in the morning, and she was tired.

"Look at his chest," was all the young boy said.

"E-Excuse me?" she stuttered, shocked by his rather quick reply.

"I said, look at his chest. Look at his legs, then his arms, then his neck. After that, look at his wrists, ankles, and thighs. I assume you can figure it all out," he said quietly.

"I…" she pondered for a moment before finishing, "I don't understand what you're saying."

"Oh bloody hell woman! He's been abused this summer by his godforsaken pork-bellied excuse for an uncle! There are bruises that just won't go away! He's been so depressed that he's been cutting! Some of those scars are still new! HE TRIED TO KILL HIMSELF TONIGHT!"

She stared at him, the information he had just given not sinking in. Draco's faced flashed with realization of what he had just done, and suddenly it was flushed with horror. His mouth was gaping, and his gaze was turned inward.

"Mr. Malfoy…" she started gently.

"No…" he whispered.

Silently she rose, ignoring the student's questioning looks. Malfoys had been known to lie before, but not like this. She swept out of the room, more menacing then she probably meant. She faintly heard the young man scurry after her, his uneasiness so thick she could almost taste it. Not a good sign. She walked calmly to her young patient's bed and drew back the curtains. She sucked in a sharp breath. She had been so busy tending to his wrists that she had not gotten a good look at the boy. And what she saw was definitely not good. From through his robes, she could see ribs sticking out dangerously through the skin, his arm has a huge greenish-yellow bruise, and his complexion was far too pale for her liking.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you would kindly return to your dormitory, I will take care of things from here. Thank you for your-"

"NO! I'm not leaving!"

"Mr. Malfoy!" Poppy's eyes flashed and her voice was hard, "You will return to your bed and get some sleep or else I will not only inform the Headmaster of whatever the hell has occurred her on this night, but you'll have detention for the next month!"

Draco had been so shocked that he took an involuntary step back. Casting one withered look at the young man on the bed, he turned and swept out of the Infirmary. Poppy sighed before turning back to her patient. With a wave of her wand, she conjured up a hot cup of coffee, knowing it was going to be a while until she rested.

The memory still burned in her brain as she listed off the conditions to a serious looking Dumbledore. His eyes were hard and almost, in a sense, dead. Poppy was extremely frightened.

"What should we do Albus? What in all the Hells is going on?" Poppy asked in a strangled voice.

"All will be revealed in good time, my friend. For now, we will let the boy rest. He needs it," Albus said in a sorrowful voice.

Poppy turned her gaze back to the Boy-Who-Was-Currently-Hospitalized. She had a feeling that the next few months were not going to be easy.

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I apologize that this chapter is so short. I had major writer's block, and transition chapters are not very fun to write. I hope you enjoyed this just a little bit, feedback is always nice!