Author's Note: ♥ Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you rock. I've decided
to take your advice and will try and concentrate more on Harry, since I've
been favouring Draco...I do that too much. I'm taking my time with the slash,
since I already know how its going to go, but I'm going to start bringing
in some slash fun soon enough. Fear not! I will bring you H/D goodness!
- Flashback
Enjoy...
xXx
"Mr Malfoy?...Mr Malfoy?"
Draco groaned, moving his head in an attempt to get away from whoever was talking to him. The soft voice seemed amplified as the words crashed around in his head, his temples throbbing.
'What...What happened?' He wondered, trying to determine where he was as his eyes slowly opened, finding himself in a dimly lit room. For a few moments, he had no idea where he was. The room did not look anything like a room at Malfoy Manor. His mother would never allow such a drably decorated room be present in her home. Squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again, he realised Madam Pomfrey was bustling in a cupboard next to his bed. Something clicked in his mind and he realised he was at school.
'Better than at home.' Draco thought darkly as he settled back in his bed.
"You're finally awake!" Madam Pomfrey said boisterously, turning around and looking at the thin boy. "Well, I must say you gave everyone quite a scare, Mr Malfoy. White as a sheet, you were, and barely breathing to boot!" Draco furrowed his light brow, trying to remember what had happened. All he could think of was brewing the cauldron in Potions. He had no idea what time or day it was.
"What happened?" Draco finally asked, only then realising how dry his throat was, as the two words uttered were like razors in his throat. Madam Pomfrey handed him a glass of water and pursed her lips, recalling the event.
"Well, as Professor Snape told me, you dropped a glass, then collapsed right there in his class. Said you were mumbling something about voices - then lost consciousness. White as a sheet, you were when Professor Snape and Potter brought you up to me. I daresay I was shocked to see how ill you looked! You should have come to see me if you were feeling –"
"Potter?" Draco cut in, making her jump as she was silenced from her tangent. Draco stared at her, thinking he must have heard her incorrectly. Why would Harry Potter bring him to the Hospital Wing?
"Yes, Potter!" Madam Pomfrey repeated, obviously annoyed. "Rather flustered, he was too...Tell me, Draco." Draco inwardly groaned. Being called 'Draco' by someone who always calls you 'Mr Malfoy' would not mean anything good.
"...Have you been eating regularly? Your iron and energy levels have disintegrated astonishingly and I never remember you being quite so thin-"
"Madam Pomfrey, I've been studying more than necessary and Quidditch training is very demanding. There is nothing wrong with me," Draco replied shortly, his mind still trying to grasp the notion that Harry had been worried about him. He wasn't sure if he should be ecstatic or terrified. His infatuation with Harry Potter had been fine, since he was keeping it to himself, and had no intention of letting anything slip. He had dreamt dream after dream of Harry touching his face gently and telling him he loved him too. However, he never took into consideration what would happen if Harry really did reciprocate those feelings.
'I should have expected it,' Draco thought, a sly smile playing on his pale lips, the trademark arrogant smirk that was absent from Draco's features for so long finally returning, 'After all – look at me.' Draco chuckled, stretching back in his bed in a comfortable manner, realising Madam Pomfrey was still by his bed, and giving him a concerned look.
"Well, you should get that smug look off your face," Draco's face fell. "You'll be staying here for the next two days, and it won't be pretty! We've got to get some strength into you." And with that, Madam Pomfrey picked up a pile of dirty sheets and bustled towards the door. As she reached the door, she stopped, turned and added, "Oh, your Father has been informed and will be here shortly."
Draco's face went pale. He watched helplessly as Madam Pomfrey left him alone in the large, empty white room, a feeling of dread overcoming him. Fear loomed inside of Draco as he waited for the inevitable – Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey would have surely told his Father of Draco's lack of consideration with his physical health. This would just give his Father more ammunition. Once again, he would be a weakling in his Father's eyes. Draco knew it.
Tentatively, Draco fiddled with his bed sheets, casting furtive glances towards the door leading into the corridor. His empty stomach, dormant since he collapsed, began aching. Cringing, Draco clutched his malnourished stomach, his shoulders curling inwards as he tried to stifle the pain that seemed to be growing and growing, to the point where it was blinding.
'Yeah, I know this feeling...he's coming.'
xXx
"Harry? We have Herbology...We'll be late if we don't hurry."
"Hm? Oh...Right. Yeah, I'm coming."
Harry picked up his scattered books that he had dumped on his chair in the Great Hall. It was nearing the end of lunch, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had sat talking at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Around half of the other Gryffindor's were there also, talking about their morning or what they were going to do that evening. The loudest were Fred and George, at the end of the table, as they planned to let loose toads into the Hufflepuff Girls' Toilets. Harry chuckled at the idea, his green eyes darting over to the Slytherin Table. The majority of them were there, a large group sitting in silence, which comprised of Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest of Draco's cult. They were all in shock from what had happened during Potions, none of them really sure what to do or say without the leader of their absolute dictatorship. Harry licked his lips, his mind recapping what had happened.
Without knowing it, Harry had been staring at Draco. It first began as a glare that was intended to only last momentarily. However, the way in which Draco looked made his eyes stay where they were. He looked so weak. Harry remembered the way Draco's face was void of colour, his misty grey eyes open wide as he stared into his bubbling potion, his elegantly fingered hands grasping onto the table for dear life. It was like Draco was about to start screaming right there and then. For a split second, Harry made a move to go to him, but stopped. He couldn't do something like that; not to Malfoy! 'Why would I want to?' Harry thought, feigning disgust at the idea.
And then it happened. Draco crumpled to the ground, his shoulders cringing inwards and his hands letting go of the table, his eyes squeezing shut as if someone were trying to hurt him, as if he were being attacked and he was trying to protect himself as he uttered hysterically, "Why won't they stop? Please...Go away...Leave me alone..." Draco repeated it over and over as everyone in the class crowded around, Pansy Parkinson screaming, Crabbe and Goyle staring dumb-founded, wondering if they should do something. Harry remembered. He, Hermione, Ron and some of the Gryffindors rushed over, trying to see what was happening. Snape pushed everyone aside, hissing at them to give him some space.
Snape bent over Draco then asked him in a dark tone, "Mr Malfoy?"
Draco continued to breathe heavily, his chest heaving up and down, as if he were having an asthma attack.
"Please...Stop...Stop the voices...Leave me alone."
Then he lost consciousness. Harry could still remember vividly the panic rising inside of him as Draco's eyes shut, his hands falling limp to the ground. Professor Snape conjured a stretcher then levitated Draco onto it, yelling at the class to move out of the way. He then turned and growled to Harry, "Bring him to Madam Pomfrey, now Potter. I need to get a potion that might help him."
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who nodded for him to go. Tensely, Harry pushed Draco's floating stretcher down the hallway that would lead to the Hospital Wing, his left hand holding onto its side to lead it in the right direction. This was strange, to say the least. Harry had never thought he would be in this position; helping Malfoy. He felt nervous and was filled with unease as he looked at the unconscious boy cautiously. Even though Draco was not conscious, Harry did not know what he should be thinking. He hated this boy. For the last four and a half years, he had made Harry's life a living nightmare! Any excuse to give Harry and his friends a hard time was embraced by this blonde haired Slytherin.
Harry's hurried footsteps sounded against the stone floor as he pushed Draco's stretcher. Tremors of nervousness flitted through his stomach as he looked at the small boy. It was only now that Harry could get a proper look at him, since at school Harry could only send glances at him, hoping Draco would not see him.
Draco looked half dead; his long hands thin, cheekbones heightened, chest and arms muscled, but with no body fat, his closed eyelids a slightly darker shade than the rest of his pale face, probably from lack of sleep. Harry wondered how long Draco would survive were he hit with a bad cold. He slowed down, radiant emerald eyes straying around Draco's face. Harry had always known Draco was good looking; a person with no eye sight would know that. However, Harry could see past that. Despite Draco's withered outer shell, Harry felt something drawing him closer to this sleeping boy. No, he wasn't a boy. A boy is far too trivial, too trifling. Draco was far more than that. How could such an angelic, ethereal form like this...
"Suffer so much?" Harry mumbled, cutting into his own thoughts. It was only now did Harry wonder why Draco was in this position. 'He must have passed out from weakness.' He thought dimly, his eyes straying up to his perfect face, dark eyelashes resting on porcelain white cheeks, now even whiter. Even closed behind shut eyes, Harry could almost feel the calamity going on behind them. Doorways into his mind.
'Why am I thinking this?!' Harry wondered, tearing his eyes away from Draco.
Continuing on down the corridor, Harry became annoyed at himself. What would Ron and Hermione think if they knew he was...feeling that way. Harry had never thought himself gay; he had always fancied girls.
'Do you really?' A voice entered his thoughts, making him uneasy. His mind was usually filled with chaotic, scattered thoughts that made him want to scream. However, his mind was presently empty; one solitary voice sighing sentences, words and whispers he did not want to hear.
'Just...Get Malfoy to the Hospital Wing then I don't have to think about it again. Things will go back to the way they were before, and I'll be fine.' Harry began walking faster, coming to a stop outside the Hospital Wing, and knocked on the door. Distant clicking of shoes got closer and Madam Pomfrey opened the door, eyeing Harry curiously before looking down at Draco on the white stretcher.
"Goodness! What happened here?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, here eyes widening as she examined Draco.
"Uh...I really don't know...One minute he was okay in Potions and the next...Well..." Harry suddenly felt a little flustered, feeling awkward trying to describe what was wrong with Draco when he really had no idea. He was worried; yes. All he really wanted was for Madam Pomfrey to make him better.
'No! I want to leave!' Harry blushed, his left hand running through his flop of black hair nervously as he looked from Draco to the stone floor. Madam Pomfrey once again eyed him questioningly, before shaking her head and pulling the stretcher into the long white room. Harry stood at the doorway anxiously, wondering if he was okay to leave. However, Madam Pomfrey seemed too busy with Draco to notice. His eyes flashing around the room, Harry darted back to Potions, feeling shocked and more than a little disturbed by what had happened.
"Harry! We're going to be late!" Hermione's shrilled voice rang in Harry's ears, making him jump from his seat, a few books falling to the ground. Harry stood there, shocked, before hurriedly gathering his books from the ground, trying not to look as jittery as he felt. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him curiously, not impressed that Harry seemed to be off dreaming and was going to make her late for a class.
"Really Harry. Save your daydreams for the class."
"I'm coming!" Harry called, standing back up and looking around the Hall surreptitiously, hoping no one had seen him before hurrying after Hermione. 'Get a grip, Harry,' He thought, almost pleadindly.
xXx
"Draco." Lucius Malfoy stood in the threshold of the Hospital Wing, his silvery white hair, not unlike his son's, falling neatly around his face; his cold eyes a veneer of seemingly endless blackness and hatred.
Draco looked up to his Father reluctantly, his stomach dropping as his hopes of his Father forgetting to come fleeing from his mind. Fleeing. He really wouldn't mind doing that right about now. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey was keeping a close eye on him from the other room and would not be happy were he to suddenly make a run for it.
Besides, Lucius Malfoy was blocking the door.
"Father." Draco said softly in recognition and respect. His frightened, grey eyes followed his Father as he slowly sauntered over to his bed, taking a seat next to it.
"I trust you are feeling better. I must say I am not entirely impressed you have not been taking...better care of yourself," Lucius breathed, placing his elbows on the arms of his chair and resting his left hand delicately over his right, his hands under his chin. "You were never a strong child. Always weak and brittle, even as a baby. I plan to quash that of you, believe you me," Lucius grinned maliciously, his shoulders shaking slightly as he laughed silently. Draco wanted to get up from the bed right there and then. He wanted to get out of the bed and run to someone; anyone. 'Harry.' In Draco's mixed up and chaotic mind, where everything was whirring around, blurring into each other and exploding like fireworks until there was nothing but calamity and anarchy, only one name surfaced. Only one name broke through the mayhem and seemed clear and lucid and...right. 'Harry...Oh God, Harry...I can't handle this...'
At Draco's continuing silence, Lucius sat back in his chair, his right hand playing with his elegant wand which he slid out from his pocket. "While you're lying there with nothing of importance to say, I may as well tell you the news..." Draco looked at him curiously. Anything his Father had to tell him (and was obviously pleased about) would not be good news.
"...As of today, I am a Professor at Hogwarts. I will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. How ironic." Lucius sneered, unaware of the horror suddenly surfacing in Draco's features. He had never cared to understand his son, and never would. "Well? For God's sake, you pathetic boy, say something!" Draco swallowed through a throat that felt like it had never tasted water. How could this happen? Hogwarts had been his sanctuary; his shelter; his...' Protection,' He thought numbly. Everything became clear. 'I no longer have that protection. I have no where to hide.'
"That's...That's good Father. I'm sure you will do an excellent job.' His voice speaking words even he had not formulated before-hand, came out of his mouth, running off his lips like water, as if he were listening to someone else speak. Each word spoken was not expected by him, but more came naturally. It was custom and convention to speak this way to his Father, to the point where he did not even have to try. He was merely a puppet. A talking parrot that said what was expected of him.
Nodding in agreement, Lucius stood from his seat, walking over to the door. Stopping right at the threshold, Lucius stood there, his back to his dazed son, and said, "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Draco." The door opened and closed as Draco's Father left the Infirmary, leaving a cold and unwelcome feeling in the air.
Draco felt like his insides had disappeared. Like his head had emptied and was about to collapse. 'Any moment now...Any moment...My head will be completely empty and will surely collapse.'
"...surely collapse..."
- Flashback
Enjoy...
xXx
"Mr Malfoy?...Mr Malfoy?"
Draco groaned, moving his head in an attempt to get away from whoever was talking to him. The soft voice seemed amplified as the words crashed around in his head, his temples throbbing.
'What...What happened?' He wondered, trying to determine where he was as his eyes slowly opened, finding himself in a dimly lit room. For a few moments, he had no idea where he was. The room did not look anything like a room at Malfoy Manor. His mother would never allow such a drably decorated room be present in her home. Squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again, he realised Madam Pomfrey was bustling in a cupboard next to his bed. Something clicked in his mind and he realised he was at school.
'Better than at home.' Draco thought darkly as he settled back in his bed.
"You're finally awake!" Madam Pomfrey said boisterously, turning around and looking at the thin boy. "Well, I must say you gave everyone quite a scare, Mr Malfoy. White as a sheet, you were, and barely breathing to boot!" Draco furrowed his light brow, trying to remember what had happened. All he could think of was brewing the cauldron in Potions. He had no idea what time or day it was.
"What happened?" Draco finally asked, only then realising how dry his throat was, as the two words uttered were like razors in his throat. Madam Pomfrey handed him a glass of water and pursed her lips, recalling the event.
"Well, as Professor Snape told me, you dropped a glass, then collapsed right there in his class. Said you were mumbling something about voices - then lost consciousness. White as a sheet, you were when Professor Snape and Potter brought you up to me. I daresay I was shocked to see how ill you looked! You should have come to see me if you were feeling –"
"Potter?" Draco cut in, making her jump as she was silenced from her tangent. Draco stared at her, thinking he must have heard her incorrectly. Why would Harry Potter bring him to the Hospital Wing?
"Yes, Potter!" Madam Pomfrey repeated, obviously annoyed. "Rather flustered, he was too...Tell me, Draco." Draco inwardly groaned. Being called 'Draco' by someone who always calls you 'Mr Malfoy' would not mean anything good.
"...Have you been eating regularly? Your iron and energy levels have disintegrated astonishingly and I never remember you being quite so thin-"
"Madam Pomfrey, I've been studying more than necessary and Quidditch training is very demanding. There is nothing wrong with me," Draco replied shortly, his mind still trying to grasp the notion that Harry had been worried about him. He wasn't sure if he should be ecstatic or terrified. His infatuation with Harry Potter had been fine, since he was keeping it to himself, and had no intention of letting anything slip. He had dreamt dream after dream of Harry touching his face gently and telling him he loved him too. However, he never took into consideration what would happen if Harry really did reciprocate those feelings.
'I should have expected it,' Draco thought, a sly smile playing on his pale lips, the trademark arrogant smirk that was absent from Draco's features for so long finally returning, 'After all – look at me.' Draco chuckled, stretching back in his bed in a comfortable manner, realising Madam Pomfrey was still by his bed, and giving him a concerned look.
"Well, you should get that smug look off your face," Draco's face fell. "You'll be staying here for the next two days, and it won't be pretty! We've got to get some strength into you." And with that, Madam Pomfrey picked up a pile of dirty sheets and bustled towards the door. As she reached the door, she stopped, turned and added, "Oh, your Father has been informed and will be here shortly."
Draco's face went pale. He watched helplessly as Madam Pomfrey left him alone in the large, empty white room, a feeling of dread overcoming him. Fear loomed inside of Draco as he waited for the inevitable – Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey would have surely told his Father of Draco's lack of consideration with his physical health. This would just give his Father more ammunition. Once again, he would be a weakling in his Father's eyes. Draco knew it.
Tentatively, Draco fiddled with his bed sheets, casting furtive glances towards the door leading into the corridor. His empty stomach, dormant since he collapsed, began aching. Cringing, Draco clutched his malnourished stomach, his shoulders curling inwards as he tried to stifle the pain that seemed to be growing and growing, to the point where it was blinding.
'Yeah, I know this feeling...he's coming.'
xXx
"Harry? We have Herbology...We'll be late if we don't hurry."
"Hm? Oh...Right. Yeah, I'm coming."
Harry picked up his scattered books that he had dumped on his chair in the Great Hall. It was nearing the end of lunch, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had sat talking at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Around half of the other Gryffindor's were there also, talking about their morning or what they were going to do that evening. The loudest were Fred and George, at the end of the table, as they planned to let loose toads into the Hufflepuff Girls' Toilets. Harry chuckled at the idea, his green eyes darting over to the Slytherin Table. The majority of them were there, a large group sitting in silence, which comprised of Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest of Draco's cult. They were all in shock from what had happened during Potions, none of them really sure what to do or say without the leader of their absolute dictatorship. Harry licked his lips, his mind recapping what had happened.
Without knowing it, Harry had been staring at Draco. It first began as a glare that was intended to only last momentarily. However, the way in which Draco looked made his eyes stay where they were. He looked so weak. Harry remembered the way Draco's face was void of colour, his misty grey eyes open wide as he stared into his bubbling potion, his elegantly fingered hands grasping onto the table for dear life. It was like Draco was about to start screaming right there and then. For a split second, Harry made a move to go to him, but stopped. He couldn't do something like that; not to Malfoy! 'Why would I want to?' Harry thought, feigning disgust at the idea.
And then it happened. Draco crumpled to the ground, his shoulders cringing inwards and his hands letting go of the table, his eyes squeezing shut as if someone were trying to hurt him, as if he were being attacked and he was trying to protect himself as he uttered hysterically, "Why won't they stop? Please...Go away...Leave me alone..." Draco repeated it over and over as everyone in the class crowded around, Pansy Parkinson screaming, Crabbe and Goyle staring dumb-founded, wondering if they should do something. Harry remembered. He, Hermione, Ron and some of the Gryffindors rushed over, trying to see what was happening. Snape pushed everyone aside, hissing at them to give him some space.
Snape bent over Draco then asked him in a dark tone, "Mr Malfoy?"
Draco continued to breathe heavily, his chest heaving up and down, as if he were having an asthma attack.
"Please...Stop...Stop the voices...Leave me alone."
Then he lost consciousness. Harry could still remember vividly the panic rising inside of him as Draco's eyes shut, his hands falling limp to the ground. Professor Snape conjured a stretcher then levitated Draco onto it, yelling at the class to move out of the way. He then turned and growled to Harry, "Bring him to Madam Pomfrey, now Potter. I need to get a potion that might help him."
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who nodded for him to go. Tensely, Harry pushed Draco's floating stretcher down the hallway that would lead to the Hospital Wing, his left hand holding onto its side to lead it in the right direction. This was strange, to say the least. Harry had never thought he would be in this position; helping Malfoy. He felt nervous and was filled with unease as he looked at the unconscious boy cautiously. Even though Draco was not conscious, Harry did not know what he should be thinking. He hated this boy. For the last four and a half years, he had made Harry's life a living nightmare! Any excuse to give Harry and his friends a hard time was embraced by this blonde haired Slytherin.
Harry's hurried footsteps sounded against the stone floor as he pushed Draco's stretcher. Tremors of nervousness flitted through his stomach as he looked at the small boy. It was only now that Harry could get a proper look at him, since at school Harry could only send glances at him, hoping Draco would not see him.
Draco looked half dead; his long hands thin, cheekbones heightened, chest and arms muscled, but with no body fat, his closed eyelids a slightly darker shade than the rest of his pale face, probably from lack of sleep. Harry wondered how long Draco would survive were he hit with a bad cold. He slowed down, radiant emerald eyes straying around Draco's face. Harry had always known Draco was good looking; a person with no eye sight would know that. However, Harry could see past that. Despite Draco's withered outer shell, Harry felt something drawing him closer to this sleeping boy. No, he wasn't a boy. A boy is far too trivial, too trifling. Draco was far more than that. How could such an angelic, ethereal form like this...
"Suffer so much?" Harry mumbled, cutting into his own thoughts. It was only now did Harry wonder why Draco was in this position. 'He must have passed out from weakness.' He thought dimly, his eyes straying up to his perfect face, dark eyelashes resting on porcelain white cheeks, now even whiter. Even closed behind shut eyes, Harry could almost feel the calamity going on behind them. Doorways into his mind.
'Why am I thinking this?!' Harry wondered, tearing his eyes away from Draco.
Continuing on down the corridor, Harry became annoyed at himself. What would Ron and Hermione think if they knew he was...feeling that way. Harry had never thought himself gay; he had always fancied girls.
'Do you really?' A voice entered his thoughts, making him uneasy. His mind was usually filled with chaotic, scattered thoughts that made him want to scream. However, his mind was presently empty; one solitary voice sighing sentences, words and whispers he did not want to hear.
'Just...Get Malfoy to the Hospital Wing then I don't have to think about it again. Things will go back to the way they were before, and I'll be fine.' Harry began walking faster, coming to a stop outside the Hospital Wing, and knocked on the door. Distant clicking of shoes got closer and Madam Pomfrey opened the door, eyeing Harry curiously before looking down at Draco on the white stretcher.
"Goodness! What happened here?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, here eyes widening as she examined Draco.
"Uh...I really don't know...One minute he was okay in Potions and the next...Well..." Harry suddenly felt a little flustered, feeling awkward trying to describe what was wrong with Draco when he really had no idea. He was worried; yes. All he really wanted was for Madam Pomfrey to make him better.
'No! I want to leave!' Harry blushed, his left hand running through his flop of black hair nervously as he looked from Draco to the stone floor. Madam Pomfrey once again eyed him questioningly, before shaking her head and pulling the stretcher into the long white room. Harry stood at the doorway anxiously, wondering if he was okay to leave. However, Madam Pomfrey seemed too busy with Draco to notice. His eyes flashing around the room, Harry darted back to Potions, feeling shocked and more than a little disturbed by what had happened.
"Harry! We're going to be late!" Hermione's shrilled voice rang in Harry's ears, making him jump from his seat, a few books falling to the ground. Harry stood there, shocked, before hurriedly gathering his books from the ground, trying not to look as jittery as he felt. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him curiously, not impressed that Harry seemed to be off dreaming and was going to make her late for a class.
"Really Harry. Save your daydreams for the class."
"I'm coming!" Harry called, standing back up and looking around the Hall surreptitiously, hoping no one had seen him before hurrying after Hermione. 'Get a grip, Harry,' He thought, almost pleadindly.
xXx
"Draco." Lucius Malfoy stood in the threshold of the Hospital Wing, his silvery white hair, not unlike his son's, falling neatly around his face; his cold eyes a veneer of seemingly endless blackness and hatred.
Draco looked up to his Father reluctantly, his stomach dropping as his hopes of his Father forgetting to come fleeing from his mind. Fleeing. He really wouldn't mind doing that right about now. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey was keeping a close eye on him from the other room and would not be happy were he to suddenly make a run for it.
Besides, Lucius Malfoy was blocking the door.
"Father." Draco said softly in recognition and respect. His frightened, grey eyes followed his Father as he slowly sauntered over to his bed, taking a seat next to it.
"I trust you are feeling better. I must say I am not entirely impressed you have not been taking...better care of yourself," Lucius breathed, placing his elbows on the arms of his chair and resting his left hand delicately over his right, his hands under his chin. "You were never a strong child. Always weak and brittle, even as a baby. I plan to quash that of you, believe you me," Lucius grinned maliciously, his shoulders shaking slightly as he laughed silently. Draco wanted to get up from the bed right there and then. He wanted to get out of the bed and run to someone; anyone. 'Harry.' In Draco's mixed up and chaotic mind, where everything was whirring around, blurring into each other and exploding like fireworks until there was nothing but calamity and anarchy, only one name surfaced. Only one name broke through the mayhem and seemed clear and lucid and...right. 'Harry...Oh God, Harry...I can't handle this...'
At Draco's continuing silence, Lucius sat back in his chair, his right hand playing with his elegant wand which he slid out from his pocket. "While you're lying there with nothing of importance to say, I may as well tell you the news..." Draco looked at him curiously. Anything his Father had to tell him (and was obviously pleased about) would not be good news.
"...As of today, I am a Professor at Hogwarts. I will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. How ironic." Lucius sneered, unaware of the horror suddenly surfacing in Draco's features. He had never cared to understand his son, and never would. "Well? For God's sake, you pathetic boy, say something!" Draco swallowed through a throat that felt like it had never tasted water. How could this happen? Hogwarts had been his sanctuary; his shelter; his...' Protection,' He thought numbly. Everything became clear. 'I no longer have that protection. I have no where to hide.'
"That's...That's good Father. I'm sure you will do an excellent job.' His voice speaking words even he had not formulated before-hand, came out of his mouth, running off his lips like water, as if he were listening to someone else speak. Each word spoken was not expected by him, but more came naturally. It was custom and convention to speak this way to his Father, to the point where he did not even have to try. He was merely a puppet. A talking parrot that said what was expected of him.
Nodding in agreement, Lucius stood from his seat, walking over to the door. Stopping right at the threshold, Lucius stood there, his back to his dazed son, and said, "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Draco." The door opened and closed as Draco's Father left the Infirmary, leaving a cold and unwelcome feeling in the air.
Draco felt like his insides had disappeared. Like his head had emptied and was about to collapse. 'Any moment now...Any moment...My head will be completely empty and will surely collapse.'
"...surely collapse..."