(Hermione)
Hermione, her presence hidden by the great number of distressed Slytherins following the limp body of Draco Malfoy, surged forwards along with the rest of the rabble. A teary eyed Gregory Goyle, who carried the boy who he so fervently worshipped, was a few metres ahead of the rest of the group. He took slow and mournful strides, as if the poster child for pure-blood arrogance who lay limp in his beefy arms was dead and not unconscious. Naturally, Vincent Crabbe was at his side, in step with his best friend. His beady little eyes were trained upon Malfoy, desperately searching for signs of life.
Malfoy's sombre procession through Hogwarts continued for some time, members of every house tagging along to see what had happened to the infamous boy. Even the Portraits of the school looked down curiously from their frames as they walked past, and Sir Cadogan, in his pompous way, stopped to remark on the tragedy and recommended they 'Make your way to the infirmary, noble students, post-haste!', before cantering away on his fat little pony. After running into them on the first floor, Professor Snape, whose thin mouth was turned down and slightly open with anxiety, took over the carrying of his godson after much fuss from the reluctant Crabbe and Goyle; the drama resulted in clouts over the head for the both of them. Even Snape, who was usually as full of emotion as a dead squirrel, looked quite concerned about Draco's condition. Of course, he had made the Unbreakable Vow with Draco's mother, which probably had some relevance to his presence at the scene.
At the entrance to the hospital wing, where an anxious Madame Pomfrey stood twisting her hands awkwardly, Snape turned, his robes swirling in a very bat like manner, and ordered the students away in his apathetic drawl. They protested, in the form of shouts of 'But he's our friend!' and 'That's not fair!', but quickly scarpered after the teacher spun on his heel and shot them all a malicious glare. He did, however, allow Blaise Zabini (Who had emerged rather sheepishly from a broom cupboard with Millicent Bullstrode after hearing the commotion), Crabbe, Goyle and a shrieking Pansy Parkinson into the ward with him. The latter, before being rebuffed sharply by an irate Professor Snape tried to – in a rather hysteric manner – shake Malfoy awake.
To avoid discovery Hermione darted behind a worn stone pillar and cast a disillusionment charm over herself (Which was a very un-Hermione like thing to do, although, she thought to herself as she cast the spell – situations such as the one she was in called for such criminal methods), wincing at the sensation, much like raw egg, that spread from on top of her hair and into and through her hair. She slipped through the hospital wing's heavy wooden door as it was about to creak shut, and snuck up on the party of Slytherins crowded around Draco's sickbed. The three male Slytherin students stood awkwardly at the end of the bed watching as Pansy knelt at Draco's side, sobbed into his mattress and clutched his hand. Hermione tutted in frustration at the silly girl. A short distance away from the group Snape was holding a hushed conversation with Madame Pomfrey. She had to ask several times for him to repeat himself; the greasy-haired man was speaking in a manner that was both too quick and quiet for human ears. Interested in the content of their exchange, Hermione crept over to the pair and stood as close as she could without risking detection. She caught the woman in mid sentence.
'…appears to have fainted from serious malnutrition and sleep deprivation… I have treated Master Malfoy for Quidditch wounds a few times in the past; he has lost an unhealthy portion of his body weight, by the looks of it… This could be down to an eating disorder, which although improbable, cannot be ruled out… I also suspect he has been through some kind of mental or emotional breakdown, which would have come about after an extended period, or periods, of depression, stress, and anxiety,' Madame Pomfrey stopped for breath; evidently Malfoy's list of ailments was too long for one sentence. 'Hand in hand with such breakdowns often come nightmares and, unfortunately, self mutilation…' She sighed and trailed off of the end of her sentence. Snape frowned and shook his head. 'In short, Professor, Master Malfoy is a very, very troubled young man… You do not have any ideas as to why this has happened to him, do you? I know that you are an accomplished leglimens; perhaps you could take a look at his mind? This would all be in aid of helping the boy, of course…' Snape, who appeared to be uncomfortable with the interrogation, opened and closed his mouth. Poppy raised her eyebrows, and began to talk again, a strained edge to her voice. 'It is… well known… that many of his relations are in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… his father, of course, was recently incarcerated in Azkaban… perhaps Draco is being punished for his father's mistakes? Severus, I implore you… If you know anything, anything at all, tell me. It will help to speed up his recovery a great deal- '
Professor Snape cut her off, and in an angry, hissing voice said: 'That is quite enough, Poppy! I am no longer in contact with the Dark Lord and woefully regret the time I spent in his service. It caused a great deal of… heartache, for myself and those I have cared about...' She attempted to explain herself, but the man continued with his speech before she could get a word in edgeways. 'I refuse to hear any more of your accusations. I will return tomorrow, and I expect a full report, ready by that time, detailing every aspect of Draco's condition. Good night, Poppy.' He spat out her name and stormed out of the large room, his robes billowing behind him, in which Madame Pomfrey stood, quivering and quite shocked at his outburst.
The elderly woman regained composure and strode over to Draco, who was still out cold and looking very frail and broken. Hermione followed close behind her, sat down as quietly as she could on the chair by his bedside, and hoped she would not be noticed. Madame Pomfrey began her assessment of his condition by removing the upper garments of the suit he was wearing with her wand. What greeted her and Hermione, who was now standing, arms crossed and teary eyed, made them gasp. Hermione winced. Draco was too thin for words… his pelvic bones jutted out like mountains, and his stomach dipped so far inwards that the area had the appearance of some kind of grotesque flesh and bone valley… Skin stretched taut over his ribs, each of which was defined clearly. His neck and collarbones were so devoid of fat that only paper thin skin and a network of bulging blue veins covered them… his face, too, was angular and alien… He was covered, from the base of his neck to his tiny waist, in bruises of a variety of colours ranging from pale yellow to almost black. Deep gashes, some fresh and some beginning to heal, joined the bruises to form some kind of sick pattern… Hermione, tears now falling in earnest from her red eyes, reached down to touch his shoulder, as if wishing to comfort… She quickly pulled it back up upon remembering that she was not the only person in the room. Poppy covered her mouth in horror, gulped and forced herself to continue. Her eyes broke away from his torso and slowly travelled to his arms, as if afraid of what they may have to witness…
Hermione knew what she would see and hastily looked away, tears streaming down her face. Madame Pomfrey, however, was not so lucky and spluttered as her eyes, as full of tears as Hermione's were, were drawn to the Dark Mark branded upon Draco's emaciated arms… it was covered in cuts, scratches and scorch marks of varying degrees of horror… Draco had seemingly tried to remove it, and failed terribly. The Mark was as defined as Hermione had ever seen it, if not stretched slightly along with Draco's strained skin. Oddly, though, his right arm was completely free of such marks…
Madame Pomfrey, who had turned a sickly shade of green, could not take any more, and ran sobbing and traumatized from the room. Hermione, however, forced herself to stay and cupped a hand to Draco's drawn face, her eyes full to the brim with pain and empathy. She forced herself to stop crying, wiped away the salty tears that adorned her face, pulled out her wand, and as expertly as the Matron herself, began to mutter spells directed at Draco's body. One by one, the cuts began to seal and the bruises faded, the blossoms sinking back into Draco's skin as if they had never been there…
Oh, Hermione deplored, if only she could do the same to his broken mind…
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Whew, finally got it finished. I hated writing that! Poor Draco... D: Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who has reviewed and favourited the last chapter! I would like to send special thanks to Ally, Euphoria123 and LoreLore, who have simply made my heart swell with their kind words. This chapter was especially for you!
Laura