The wounds on Draco's back didn't seem to want to heal, no matter what potions he was given or what poultices were placed on them. The healing was marginal every day and he felt like he wasn't going to be able to leave anytime soon. His fingers were healed but he still had the memory of how ripped and raw they were from him desperately clawing the ground to get away from Bill. His headaches had lasted for a few days, but evidently there was no lasting damage.

His back was so painful that he needed assistance to walk around. Draco refused. He didn't need help. He could do it alone. He was grateful that he had a private room so that no one had to witness him clutching to objects and using the wall to get to the bathroom. Every step he took sent waves of pain through him. He didn't let anyone see his pain if he could help it. When asked, he would lie and state that he felt better. They saw through it, naturally, and still wouldn't let him go. He felt like any day he was going to just get up and leave without permission. If he did that, however, without signing a waver that stated he was going against doctor's recommendations, the hospital would be liable. Considering he worked at said hospital, he didn't want to risk it, no matter how much he detested Kilworthy.

A knock came at his door as Draco stared up at the impossibly white ceiling. There was a small yellow blotch that he found immensely irritating, especially because it was the only thing he could look at unless he was reading. He wasn't much for reading, but for the past couple of weeks, he had begun to do so just to keep his mind busy. He took the time to catch up on recent medical advancements and spells.

Without waiting for permission, the door opened slightly. In peeked a woman with impossibly curly brown hair. It wasn't unruly, though. She seemed uncertain of her movements, and she stepped in and shut the door behind herself. Her skin was a shade darker than her hair. She was quite short and wore glasses. She smiled at him and it was clear that she somehow didn't know who Draco was, even as she looked down at his chart and could see his name. Draco did not return the smile.

She approached the end of his bed and continued to look down at his chart as she read it over. He didn't understand why she hadn't read it before she had decided to enter his room. After a few moments he became impatient. "And you are…?"

"Oh," she said, startled. She looked up at him with dark eyes. She seemed almost the exact opposite of him in looks. "I'm Nora Rey. I read here that you're Draco Malfoy."

"That doesn't exactly answer my question," Draco responded with a sneer. "What are you doing in my room?"

"I'm your new Healer. Your case was transferred to me," Nora answered. She seemed uncomfortable by Draco's hostility.

"I work here and I've never seen you before." He looked her up and down. "Aren't you a little young to be a Healer?"

Her cheeks reddened. "I'm new."

"Clearly."

A pause followed in which Nora clearly didn't know what to say. She bristled slightly before she looked back down at her chart. "I see that you've been refusing help in walking."

"I'm doing fine."

"By yourself?"

"Yes."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Show me."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I have nothing to prove to you."

"If you want to leave and see your… friend, then you'll have to prove that you're able-bodied enough." Nora's tone had changed significantly. She seemed to have found her confidence through Draco's resistance.

Draco wondered what Kilworthy had told her. His heart began to race at the mention of Astoria. No one would give him a straight answer about Astoria's condition, and that itself had made him aggravated. His aggravation had seemed to fuel Kilworthy.

"I'll stand if you give me information about Astoria Greengrass."

"Who?"

Draco couldn't tell if Nora legitimately didn't know who Astoria was or she was just faking in order to get him to do what she wanted. In either case, if he got out of that wretched room, he could find out for himself.

Draco moved his legs to the edge of the bed. He gingerly placed his feet on the floor. He was aware that there was nothing nearby for him to grasp onto. He took a deep breath and stood up. Pain radiated through him from his spine. All he saw was white flashes and then he had begun to fall. With incredible speed, Nora grabbed him and slowed him as they both fell to the ground.

"Okay," Nora said as she exhaled and pulled away from Draco. "Just as I expected."

She stood up and without speaking used a spell to get Draco back into bed. He felt weak, fragile, and incredibly embarrassed about what had just happened. His cheeks burned and he avoided eye contact.

"Listen, you need physical therapy," Nora stated, plainly. "Without it, you're not going to be able to walk again. Your wounds are slowly healing, but if you wait until they're perfectly better, then you'll be here for months. We also need you to walk so that we can make sure that the damage to your spine has been fixed or if we need to do more work."

He grimaced at the idea. He knew that his back was not only scarred from what Bill Weasley had done to him, but also because of the repair work that the Healers had done on him.

"Fine," he muttered under his breath.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"Yes, fine, I'll do it," he said in a voice slightly louder.

"Excellent, we'll start tomorrow," Nora replied with her cheery demeanour returned. She spun on her heel and out of the room. Draco wished that he would never see her again.

Draco had never participated in physical therapy at the hospital, mainly because it involved him being much too involved with the patient. No one argued him when he said it wasn't for him. In theory he knew what it entailed, but actually going through it was worse than he imagined.

Nora used a hovering spell to keep Draco upright as he attempted to put weight on his legs. They started with just standing without fainting or falling over. Draco felt oddly exposed.

"How have you never heard of me?" Draco wondered in their third session. Despite the fact that he absolutely abhorred small talk, it shifted the attention off the fact that he was simply hovering and looking like a complete idiot.

Nora looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Of course I've heard of you," she admitted. "But I don't know you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco demanded a little too quickly. His pride was immensely fragile.

"I'm not going to judge you when I don't know you," she said, her voice soft. After the first session, Nora had done away with coming in with her Healer jacket and simply wore her regular clothes. That day she had opted for a flowery just flowy blouse tucked into high waisted grey trousers. Her outfit flattered her curves. Her clothes were clearly expensive and tailored. "You're a Healer, after all. Unless you got the job simply to murder people subtly, you must not be as cruel as they say."

He flinched. "I've never murdered anyone."

Nora was clearly surprised as her hovering spell faltered for just a moment. Draco gasped at the sudden pain, and she recovered. She was clearly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to imply… that's not what I meant."

He could tell by her mortified expression that she was telling the truth, but he turned his attention back to trying to stand. He had tried to make the situation less awful for him by making small talk, but instead he realized that his new Healer had prejudices just like everyone. He had foolishly believed that she was somehow ignorant of his past. This just reinforced his wish to move to another country and start over.

Draco's mind turned back to Dumbledore and how it had been his mission to murder him. It was the closest he had ever gotten, and it had scared him down to the core. He remembered his wand pointed at Dumbledore, a man who normally held himself tall and proud. As he looked at Dumbledore, Draco had known that Dumbledore had known all along what had been going on. His arm had trembled and he faltered. He just hadn't had it in him, even when it came to saving his family.