The Sleep of Angels
Draco slept. He looked like an angel, surrounded by his halo of gossamer white hair although, with all the blood stained through it, and angel of death would be more appropriate. Harry sighed, pulling the blankets over Draco's thin shoulders and gently wiping away some of the hair caught upon his forehead.
Walking to the other side of the room Harry grabbed a velvet covered stool and placed it next to the bed where Draco slept so peacefully. Harry had enveloped Draco within a sheet of deep and contentment, warding his mind and body from excessive stress. It was fragile though and so he had come to his own "Head boy" apartment and hidden Draco away here, safer though not very well hidden.
Harry leaned himself on the side of the bed, grasping one of Draco's hands gently in his own, from there he began the cautious decent into Draco's ruined mind. It was like seeing a jigsaw puzzle only this puzzle had a million pieces and was made of gossamer thoughts and crystal memories. Harry began, sorting slowly, placing things in orders of time, from when he was born to now. Amid the carnage he found two memories of equal times, he held those separate.
At first Harry didn't know where to begin, too many pieces and so little knowledge of Draco's life up to now. Harry decided finally to reassemble what he knew better than anyone, their memories together. Those pieces he could place, some large, some smaller than starlight. They were different than his own memories of the time, colored with doubt, anger and fear. As he placed them memories echoed up, seen from Draco's eyes.
He worked for what seemed to be an eternity, placing one tiny piece after another, cementing it in place with magic, love and Draco's own soul and he paused to look upon his work, a fragment of memory the span of a couple days to the most and for all that work he had assembled the amount proportional to a drop of water in the ocean. It seemed hopeless but he would continue on, he would persevere, for Draco.