Draco.

He sat in a chair as the Dark Lord circled him.

"Are you ready Draco? Are you willing to do it?"

He nodded slowly. This was what he wanted. This was what he had been waiting for. He could prove himself, show himself to be something more. Why did he feel so afraid?

The Dark Lord smiled and raised his wand. "Welcome to the ranks my dear Draco."

When the wand touched his arm, Draco screamed.

He twitched and his eyes snapped open. The white walls were there still, and the wardrobe was in the corner. He wasn't supposed to be here. He looked at the ceiling above his head and tried to shut his eyes again, but it was no use. Draco knew he had failed.

"Mr. Malfoy. So happy you've rejoined us."

His eyes darted to the man in Healing robes sitting by his bed. The Healer was older, with traces of grey in his light brown hair and lines set into his face. His eyes were very serious because his job was serious.

"Do you know where you are?" the Healer asked.

Draco bit his lip in anger. "St. Mungo's. Janus Thickey ward."

The Healer nodded. "Very good. And do you remember who I am?"

It would be difficult to not remember the Head Healer of the ward and a living descendent of Dilys Derwent.

"Healer Derwent."

"That's right. And do you remember how you got here?"

Draco remembered. The splinters, the wood, and the dreams in the wardrobe. The snake's attack in his dream was too real. Everything had become too real again, and he couldn't wait to waste away like he planned. The Healers hadn't thought about removing the coat hangers in the wardrobe.

"I remember."

"Can you elaborate to me your situation?"

"Ask that stupid Healer who comes in everyday. She thinks she knows me so well," he said with quiet anger.

"I have spoken at length with Healer Hopkins. I'd much rather hear what you think of yourself."

Draco stared at him with a stony expression. "You want to know what I think of myself?"

Healer Derwent nodded. "Draco, you may choose not to answer me, but it is my goal to help you."

"So that's what you're doing? Helping me," Draco spat the last words with venom. "Well I have some very important information for you. You aren't helping. You don't get to tell me how 'serious my condition is.' You don't get to decide whether I need help or not. You have no business with me, and I have none with you, and you're wasting your time trying to 'cure me.' And I know for a fact that the only reason you pretend to give a damn about me is because my mother is paying you every last galleon of her fortune to keep me here."

The Healer looked at him with interest.

"Do you really think I don't care about my patients?"

"I know everyone hates me, don't pretend that you don't either."

Healer Derwent shook his head. "I have no reason to hate you Draco. We're called Healers for a reason."

Draco looked away from Healer Derwent's gaze. His anger was coursing white-hot through him today. He had been in the ward for twenty-three days now, and the end of it didn't seem to be in sight.

"I've looked over your records, and myself and the other Healers have noticed you seem to suffer the most from recurring nightmares."

He didn't say anything. This was his forbidden territory.

"Draco, I'm curious about something. What did you see during the war?"

Draco's fists clenched as he remembered. The memories of the murders, the tortures, the sneers, the fear, and the large snake who occupied his home flowed in his mind. He remembered Hogwarts, the fire that killed Crabbe, the shame of being rescued by Potter and his pathetic friends, and the repercussions following the end.

"I saw everything," he whispered curtly.

The Head Healer wrote something on his clipboard and sighed. "Draco we've tried a lot of different ideas with you. You have remained unresponsive to our usual method for wizards with your condition. And in light of recent events, myself and the other Healers in the ward feel it's time we tried something a little different."

Healer Derwent stood from his chair and strode across the room to the small window that Draco kept closed and covered with a curtain. He drew the curtain aside.

"You will remain in this room for the time being, but you will take your meals and the prescribed potions in the dining hall with our other patients. All your free time will be spent outside of this room, and you will be required to interact with other patients and participate in activities. You will eat three solid meals a day, and will be prescribed appropriate potions for your symptoms."

The Head Healer waited for Draco's response.

"And if I do not comply?" Draco asked slowly. He refused to look at Healer Derwent.

"Then we will allow you to waste away and attempt to take your life. And then we will revive you as we did yesterday. I will not let you die Draco. So you may choose between an improved life or the life you have been experiencing the past few weeks."

Healer Derwent locked eyes and Draco, and Draco was almost stunned at the fierceness of his gaze.

"Dinner is in fifteen minutes Mr. Malfoy. You will find clean clothes in the wardrobe for you. I suggest you make yourself ready."

With a final look at Draco, Healer Derwent exited the room. His footsteps echoed down the hall until they slowly faded away.

Draco didn't move from his bed. He had a choice. He could ignore the Head Healer. He could just stay in bed, as he had for the past three weeks. The wardrobe door was slightly ajar. His stomach grumbled loudly. He had a choice...

"Bloody hell," he muttered as he shoved the covers aside.

He dressed slowly, taking the time to button up his shirt and lace his trainers. The clothes had been folded and placed on a shelf in the wardrobe. No more hangers for a while. The pants and shirt Draco wore were loose and baggy. He rolled the sleeves up and folded the black pant legs so he wouldn't step on them. The Healers should have expected this.

"Idiots," he thought to himself as he turned his door handle.

Draco hadn't seen the hallways since he first was admitted to the ward. It looked like every other section of the hospital that Draco had ever seen. The hallways were long and led to various other rooms. Draco passed a door of an older man who was babbling nonsensically as a Healer tried to coax a potion down his throat. Most doors were closed, but a few remained open. Healers walked past Draco in a very brisk fashion. One or two saw him and smiled, but didn't stop to chat. Draco remembered the dining hall was supposed to be to the left of the main hall. His footsteps felt too loud, and he pushed his hands in his pocket and ducked his head as he turned the corner. He would eat, avoid as may interactions as possible, and leave.

The dining hall was one of the larger rooms in the ward. It was full of rectangular tables and wooden benches. It reminded Draco a little of Hogwarts. There was no kitchen, only plates set at each seat.

Many patients had already gathered for the meal, and were either talking amongst themselves or ignoring everyone. There was a vacant seat in a corner table, which Draco slid into. A few pairs of eyes rested on him, and he bit the inside of his cheek and fought the urge to run back to his room. He kept his eyes on his plate and noticed there was no silverware.

"You have to tell it who you are." He jerked and his eyes shot up.

An older wizard with grey hair stood across from him. He was shorter, and there was a wide scar covering his right cheek. "It won't give you your food unless you tell it who you are."

Draco didn't say anything but continued to look at his plate. Finally, he whispered, "Draco Malfoy."

The food began to appear along with a glass of water and a folded card. He looked up and the short man had returned to his seat on the other side of the lunch room. Draco picked up the card and read.

"Potions will be taken following dinner. Be present at Room 205."

He flicked the card away and looked at his meal. It was a simple turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and little mayonnaise. A larger fruit cup and a cookie accompanied it. He picked the sandwich up with distaste and glared at it before he took a small bit. The turkey was dry, and almost impossible for him to swallow. He took a gulp of water and glared at the sandwich. He felt an intense amount of hatred for it, and resolved to take another bite. The lettuce was crisp and the tomato was juicy enough, but he couldn't get past the dry turkey. He spit the mashed food out and wiped his mouth. He only ate the fruit and cookie for the rest of his meal and pushed his plate away when he was finished.

Room 205 was a few doors down the hall from the lunch room. Each room was marked with a numbered plate. Only a few people stood in line at 205. There was a middle-aged man who was twiddling his thumbs, a young woman who was shaking, and an older man who turned around to Draco and said, "I'm the joker and man, you've got to be free."

Draco didn't respond and just took his place in line. His earlier anger had subsided and was being replaced with the more familiar feeling of apathy. It took all his willpower to take the few steps forward when the line moved. He heard footsteps behind him as more patients lined up for their medicine.

Finally, he reached the front of the line, and a friendly Healer smiled at him.

"Name?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Her smile faltered a bit as she handed him three vials of potion. "The first is a Replenishing potion, the second is a Sleeping potion that will help combat night terrors, and the third is for your..."

Draco cut her off by taking the vials and gulping the potions down. He handed them back to her wordlessly and nodded. He was turning to go when he stopped in his tracks.

Brilliant green eyes stared back at him. They were a deep emerald, like the color of his House from Hogwarts. They were bright and alive, but a little sad too.

The eyes were a part of a face that Draco noticed was heavily scarred. The thin scars ran all over her cheeks and up into her hairline. A more jagged cut stretched from one ear down to her chin. The nose beneath her eyes was small and delicate, but looked as if it had been broken.

Draco sucked in his breath as he stared at her. The young woman smiled at him softly and nodded in a greeting. He didn't respond, only continued to stare at her face. Her eyes were mesmerizing.

"Draco?" the Healer asked. "Are you alright?"

He only nodded and muttered incoherently as he slipped away, casting one last look behind his shoulder.

Once back in his room, he laid on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. It hadn't been too bad to leave the four white walls, but he didn't feel very eager to leave again. Time passed, and he rose to change for bed. He went to the wardrobe and curled up inside it again. No matter what any Healer said, he would never be free from the wardrobe.

As he laid on the wooden floor, his fingers throbbing with pain again, he thought of the emerald eyes. He wondered who they belonged to.

He didn't realize it at the time, but it was on January 13, 1999 that Draco Malfoy first met Astoria Greengrass.

A/N THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS. They seriously made my week better. Keep them coming, because I have no doubt I need some constructive criticism. I hope people enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Thank you so much!