Welcome to another unimpressive chapter of New Truths. This chapter focuses more on the human part of Draco and less on his sad circumstances.

Thank you's to those who reviewed.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is still not mine, while all of the new stuff is still mine.

Boredom.

It surrounded him, permeating the very fibers of his being. Draco's mind was screaming at him to do something interesting. He was still too weak to eat enough, so he was hooked to an IV. He longed to walk, to run, to fly his broom, he would even settle for scrubbing cauldrons. At least that would provide some mental stimulation. And he had only been awake for three days.

The door clicked open, admitting Sherry into the room. She was wheeling something strange in with her. It looked like a spindly metal coat hanger. Draco eyed the mysterious apparatus with wary curiosity. He had never trusted Muggle "technology", as they called it, a sentiment that had been drilled into him since he was born into a pureblood family.

"What is this contraption you have brought me, Ms. Sherry?" Draco said with as much dignity as he could muster. Sherry giggled like a little girl, as she did whenever he addressed her. At first he was annoyed by her antics, but he refused to call her by her first name alone, and now found it quite amusing.

"This, my dear sir, is freedom on wheels," she said with a smirk.

"Is that so?" Draco said, repressing a grin. He secretly liked Sherry Everett very much. She was the kind of woman who just grows onto a person, until they can't imagine living without her. She reminded Draco very strongly of someone, but he could never remember who it was.

"Yes, sir, this is a rolling IV holder, giving it's bearer the freedom to walk around and enjoy the sights and sounds of the rest of the hospital," Sherry managed a straight face during this short speech, but her homely face erupted into a broad grin as soon as she finished speaking. She always addressed him as "my dear sir" in retaliation to his formal manner of addressing her, even though she had dragged his first name, along with a false last name, out of him the first day he awoke.

In his three days awake, Draco had learned much about the current state of his health. Nothing was broken except for a few ribs, as he had administered several healing charms before he ran away, which made him quite able to move about, albeit painfully. Sherry, taking for granted that Draco wanted to regain his mobility, was already moving his IV bag to the hook on the rolling rack. Draco gladly complied with Sherry's instructions, submitting to her fussing over his garment, or lack thereof, if you asked Draco's personal opinion. No one ever did, but that didn't stop Draco from maintaining his disparaging view of the drafty smock.

As the cheerful nurse finished her work and stepped back, she looked over her blonde patient with a discerning eye. After several minutes of warnings and insistence on taking it easy, she ushered a somewhat wobbly wizard out into the hall.

Draco was polite and reserved on the outside, but inside, he was crying to run and jump around. As soon as he was out of sight of Sherry, a crafty grin lit his face and he started walking much faster than she had previously advised, almost breaking into an undignified jog. He spun around, using the pole of the IV holder as a dance partner. He never realized what a strange character he was, his sinisterly scarred visage contrasting so with his childish actions. He felt so free, no worries, no father hell-bent on killing him, no Dark Lord forcing him to do unsavory tasks, just him and the IV rack, dancing the day away. He continued this way until his ribs began to protest, ordering him to slow down and walk more carefully.

Now, Draco had never liked being alone. Solitude was very valuable in small doses, but he had always been a people person, befriending anyone his father allowed. Without the previous restrictions, Draco befriended two of the other long term patients. His new friends included a six year old girl in the cancer ward and a boy a few years younger than him who had been hit by a car while riding his bike, and had broken an arm and both legs. Draco especially pitied the last of his friends, since it would be years until he could ride his beloved bicycle again. Draco often smuggled the boy, Thomas Dean, extra chocolate pudding. They often talked until curfew, doing what, if they had been girls, would have been called gossiping. The young girl in the cancer ward had a major operation, and when she woke up, she found Draco and Thomas's smiling faces surrounded by flowers and balloons that Draco had charmed out of a kind nurse down the hall. The young girl, Marilyn, was so cute, despite her lack of hair and shrunken appearance; she had supreme power over the two boys. She even convinced them to have a tea party with her and her new teddy bear, which had been supplied by her adorable parents. They often came and sat with her after work hours, kissing her newly grown mop of hair.

One evening, they cornered Draco after they had left Marilyn's side for the night. Their apprehensive faces caught his attention as they spoke to him.

"Erm, Draco, right?" the father asked, looking deep into his eyes. This made Draco acutely uncomfortable, but he knew he had to stare back, for some inexplicable reason that had forced its way into his mind.

"Well, uhm, the doctors just informed us that Mary doesn't…" he choked for a moment here, and the mother burst into tears. Her sobbing made Draco pale, he knew that something was very wrong with his little friend just from that action. The father cleared his throat and bravely continued, "Mary doesn't have long to live, and we just wanted to thank you for making her life so pleasant. She has told us all about how you and the other boy play with her and talk with her."

Draco's face cleared itself of what little color it had left, which wasn't very much to begin with.

"Not long? What does that mean?" he asked in a weak yet groomed voice. He always reverted back to his aristocratic training when he was upset, regardless of the cause.

The mother wailed, "One month, that's all the bastards gave my daughter! One month! She might not even make it to her seventh birthday!" With that outburst, she buried her face in her husband's shoulder again, seeking a safety from fate that his damp joint could not offer.

True to the doctor's word, Marilyn passed within a month of the tearful encounter after curfew. Marilyn died two days after her birthday, after the best party of her short life. She was buried in the new dress her parents had given her, a Barbie watch that she had always wanted from Thomas, and a small picture that Draco had taken of her and put in a beautiful frame. Draco had made two extra copies of the photo, and kept one in his wallet after gifting the other to the distraught parents.

The day after the funeral, Draco was officially released from the hospital. During his time at the hospital, a full two months due to him tearing his left lung on a broken rib while he was playing hospital football with Thomas, he had become very close to the nurse, Sherry Everett. When she handed him his "freedom slip", she pulled him into a hug. He was still depressed about Marilyn, and now he had nowhere to go. He couldn't go back into the wizarding world; they would surely recognize him in no time. As he voiced these fears to Sherry, she laughed and invited him to stay with her and work at the hospital. As it turned out, Sherry was a squib from a very old pureblood family. She would never tell him which family, but he was sure he would find out soon. Sherry had given him his wand and explained to him her lineage and he had told her everything. He gladly accepted her offer.

He had started living with Sherry and was planning on starting work the next week when Sherry came home one evening with an apprehensive look on her face.

"Draco, pack your things, I'm going to a family reunion and taking you with me," she said with far more resolution than her face suggested.

"Why?" Draco asked petulantly, jokingly acting like a five year old, as he had so often done with Marilyn.

Sherry laughed, smacked Draco onthe handand several hours and wand waves later, they were standing in front of a rickety house. Surely, Draco thought,magic was all that kept it together. The surprisingly sturdy front door opened and all sorts of sights and smells and sounds greeted the pair on the stoop. Draco was taken aback by the woman who was currently hugging Sherry. They could have been twins. Draco struggled to breathe as he recognized…

"Mrs. Weasley?" he said disbelievingly. She looked at him for the first time, soaking in his entire scarred appearance. She smiled at him before a worried expression overcast her motherly features.

"This will take some explaining, won't it, Sherry, dear?"

Sherry turned to her worried ex-patient and said, "Draco, meet my sister, Molly Everett Weasley."