Chapter 5

Pain is a warning that something's wrong.

- Pathetically from some Madonna song.

(I hang my head in shame.)

I feel horrible.

Not that I felt anything great before.

This time it's worse.

This time it's traveled to my lungs and seems to burn uncomfortably. My throat is dry and I'm not able to swallow properly.

Perhaps it's the condensation of this factory where the paint from the walls seems to turn to mould and the spores seep into the lungs of the occupants of this forsaken place.

Perhaps it's my own body finally giving out despite the fact that it isn't that old and should still be relatively new.

I can hear the small coughs and sniffles of those around me. 'Enfants' as the French would say.

I remember when I was a child and both of my parents would yell at the houselves if I was walking around sniffling with a cold. They didn't care when Severus Snape would come over for the day and remark that it was natural for children to do so. Builds up the immune system so that the child wasn't prone to being weak when they would age.

My mother would sniff at him and walk out haughtily. She didn't at all care for Snape but being the beautiful tragic wife of Lucius Malfoy she tolerated him. As for my father he once told me to ally myself with intelligence and keep close the ones who could cause the greatest of damage.

The irony of those words don't find a way out of my unkind humour of the moment.

When I breathe in it takes all that I have not to concentrate on the smell of urine and feces along with the decay of rotting wood. I can imagine the mould rising up and finding someway in my mouth to suffocate me in my sleep.

--------------------------------

I never really thought I would grow up weak.

After all I was a Slytherin, rich and handsome and all of the things that everyone has ever hoped to be.

However the world hasn't been kind to me as of late.

I am no longer a worthy Slytherin, I have absolutely no money and my looks have been debauched and taken to the dumps.

Everything that I thought I was has been washed away leaving only the smell of burning flesh on my left forearm.

Yet instead of doing what the entire universe wants someone like I to do, I reach out my hand and open palm ask strangers

"Spare change?"

Yes, I Draco Malfoy…

Am a beggar.

Am a homeless child.

Am going to do whatever it takes to survive.

-------------------------------------

I know there is something wrong. My chest hurts to breathe from. My voice is dying from the frequency and volume of the coughs. I can imagine that the ache in my chest is my heart hammering its anger to my lungs. Hammering the frustration that is slowly turning into panic.

----------------------------------------

"You should go to the doctor." It's Mouse Boy again. I'm surprised to see him, summer is nearly over and he should be heading back to his family now that it's starting to get colder.

"Amber told me to tell you that if you want she's going to the clinic tomorrow if you want to go with her."

I merely nod and go back to the words I'm randomly putting on paper.

I don't draw which some of the workers here find odd.

Instead I think of any word I have ever read, heard or just made up and write them in columns or circles on pieces of paper.

-------------------------------------

I've found out that the equivalent of a Healer in the Muggle world is a doctor.

I've also found out why the Muggle world has been able to dominate and devastate at the same time. The intelligence they give off and the sheer stupidity of the choices they reek of.

Watching the doctor analyze Amber I also have come to know what it is to feel empathy towards another person. The fact that Amber is clearly a person with problems that are both mental and physical and how in the Wizarding world they would forbid her to give birth to such an unfortunate creature.

But the doctor talks to Amber as if she is a normal and sane person. That she is not only endangering the unborn child but her own well being as well.

Humour the fuck- ups.

That's probably what they teach Muggle's in school.

---------------------------------

"Open your mouth"

The woman has light brown hair that is just above her shoulders. Her eyes are dark brown and her nose is a button nose.

I don't think it looks very complimentary to a round face such as hers.

"How long have been having these chest pains?" Her voice is hoarse and her breath smells like tobacco.

"A while."

She has straight yellow teeth when she opens her mouth.

"Well, the cough may get worse, it's been infected but I don't believe it's Strep Throat. Just relax your voice and drink lots of fluids. I can give you a prescriptions for an anti- biotic for the infections, other than that you're just going to have to tough it out."

Once again I nod.

She smiles.

I've developed a funny tenderness for people who smile at me.

--------------------------------------------

It's hard to raise money for something that is noble and absolutely innocent when one is viewed as scum.

The last person didn't believe me when I said it was for medicine. He scoffed in a way that made me think 'Arsehole' and said I would use it for drugs.

I looked in the mirror at the library and realized that I do look as if I'm on drugs with the dirt face and red eyes. I can see my cheekbones clearly and my lips are now cracking in pain…

But still I hold out my hand.

I am a beggar after all.

But let it not be said that I didn't try.

Because I did.

And I will continue to do so.