A/N I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. On the upside, Washington DC is really, really great if you can manage to avoid all the eighth graders on their field trips. Also, that Library of Congress... Thank you to all those who review, you truly make my day!

Draco Malfoy sat his table alone. The plate in front of him was empty. Every bite of food he had just consumed was settling comfortable in his stomach. The food hadn't been much, just baked chicken and steamed broccoli, but it was the first meal he had eaten in weeks. He smiled to himself and took another sip of water.

It was taking time, but he was starting to gain an appetite again. His frame was still painfully thin, but he no longer resembled a walking skeleton. He ate more frequently, but still sparsely. The Healers would still say it wasn't enough. For Draco, the food he was eating was fine.

His moods at meal times were irregular. Some days he felt good and ate well. Other days he would sit and scowl at his food, picking at it with his fingers because he still was not allowed to use utensils. It frustrated him.

Some days he ate his meals alone, but more than often, the girl Astoria would be waiting for him at his table. Her appetite waned often like his did, but she always tried to eat something. At least once a week, she wouldn't join him during the day, and he would spend a lot of time in his corner hypothesizing where she was. Astoria liked her secrets almost as much as he liked his. He could count on one hand the things he knew about her. She liked to draw and paint. Her voice managed to be soft and firm at the same time. She was almost as painfully thin as he was, and she smelled like rain and apples. Her smile was almost as intoxicating as the color of her eyes.

Healer Derwent had scheduled a meeting with him after lunch, and Draco knew it was probably for his evaluation. Every patient in the ward had an evaluation once a month, and how their evaluation went usually signaled when their time at the Janus Thickey ward had concluded. Draco had refused to get out of bed for his first evaluation.

The Head Healer's office was close to Draco's room. The marble white floor beneath his feet had been polished recently, and Draco could see his reflection in it as he knocked on the door. It creaked open, and Healer Derwent smiled as Draco walked in.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nodded a greeting and sat in a chair across the Healer's desk. Papers were piled high in neat stacks, and a small plaque read "Derwent."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Draco answered.

"Your color is improving. Have you been eating?"

"A little."

The Healer nodded and pulled a file out from his drawer.

"We've noticed that your nightmares are still rather vivid."

"Yes."

"Draco, you know it would help if we..."

"No," Draco said, his tone turning sharp.

"It would only be to help the potions have a more specific point to focus on."

"I said no."

Healer Derwent sat back in his chair. "Very well. You'll continue with the generic potions we have."

He scribbled something on Draco's file. "Draco, I think you've progressed to a point where I think you can handle this."

"Handle what?" he asked hesitantly.

"I think you need to start meeting with our wizarding psychologist. Her name is Healer Wood."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "What's a wizarding psychologist?"

"It's a rather underground profession. Only exceptionally trained Healers apply for the job, and most quit after a few months. We derived it from a similar Muggle profession."

"What do they do?"

Healer Derwent smiled. "They do a lot of things. They're listeners mostly."

"I don't understand."

"You will. Healer Wood will meet with you on Tuesdays at two o'clock."

"Is my attendance required?"

The Head Healer didn't speak, but studied Draco intently. Draco stared back and could see signs of amusement in the Healer's eyes.

"Yes."

Draco sighed, but didn't fight back. The sooner he could leave this place behind, the better. "Fine. What else is there?"

Healer Derwent laughed. "You know us too well Draco. Based on your performance the past few weeks, the other Healers and I agree that you need a room change."

Draco's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"We'll be moving you down the hall. You'll have a roommate."

"Why can't I just stay in my own room?"

"Do you really want to stay there?"

In all honesty, Draco did not. He hated that room, the walls, the floor, the cramped space, the daunting wardrobe.

"A Healer will come by to help you with your things," Healer Derwent continued.

"I don't have much," he muttered.

He stood up to leave. "What's the room number?"

"303. And his name is Logan. Your roommate."

An hour later, Draco sat in the common room with his knees pulled close to his chest. The idea of moving rooms was so foreign to him. He always assumed he would either live in his white-walled prison for years to come or he would die in it. He had really been banking on the dying part. Healer Derwent was too confident about him. Draco was not ready to be living with someone. He didn't know anyone named Logan, and he was worried about the type of person he'd be. Logan would probably hate him.

"Draco."

He snapped himself out of his thoughts and saw the green eyes. "Hi," he said.

Astoria settled down on the floor next to him. "How come you weren't at dinner?" she asked.

"Why weren't you at lunch," he retorted.

She smiled. "Fair enough. Okay?"

Astoria always asked him that question. "Okay?" He didn't even know what she meant by it. He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm moving."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You're leaving?"

He shook his head. "No, just moving rooms. Head Healer's putting me with a roommate."

She looked confused. "You didn't have a roommate before?"

"No. Never."

"But you..."

"I know," he said, his voice dropping low.

She was silent, her mind processing his words. "I'll help you with your stuff."

"I don't have much. Hardly anything really."

"I still want to help." She stood and offered her hand to help him. Whenever he took her hand, he could always see the beginnings of the jagged lines that ran up her arms. He caught himself wanting to hold onto her and see where those scars led. Quickly, he pulled his hand away and trekked through the hallways, weaving between other patients and Healers.

The door to his room was unlocked and slightly ajar. His sheets were rumpled and askew on his bed, and his old pillow was ripped in several spots. Draco kept his head ducked as he went to the wardrobe. He pulled out the few clothes he had and laid them across his arms.

"I'll take them," Astoria said. She reached out for them, but Draco scooted away.

"They aren't that heavy."

Her eyes bore into his a moment before she looked back at the wardrobe. With the door open, the lights illuminated the inside of the wardrobe, and Draco could see what Astoria must see. Every single mark on the floor: short and long, wide and thin, each with splinters sticking out.

He moved to close the door, but her hand caught it. Astoria was good at keeping a blank face, but her eyes seemed to convey everything to him. He could see something like sadness in her.

"How many of those are there?" she asked.

He felt a little ashamed that he knew. "Fifty-nine," he answered, keeping his voice level.

Astoria knelt down to the floor and ran her fingers over a mark. The wood was rough and jagged against her skin, but she paid no attention to it. With her head bowed, she ran her fingers over each mark, one at a time. Draco knew she touched all of them because he counted.

Wordlessly, she rose and focused all her attention on him. He tried to think of an explanation he could give her, but nothing was coming to him. He felt the shame heating his face, and he almost jumped when she took his hand. Her fingers were as cold as ice, but her touch was gentle. Her thumb ran over each of his fingers, and Draco felt a shiver running through him.

"I was..." he began.

She shook her head. "I don't need to know. This is a part of you Draco. But please, don't do it anymore. Okay?"

He nodded silently.

"No, I need to hear you say it."

His voice was soft as he reassured her. "Okay."

"And if you feel like you want to or have to or are going to, come find me. Okay?"

He nodded again. "Okay."

She pressed her nose against his knuckled. "Let's get you moved in."

With clothes draped over one arm and Astoria's fingers laced with his, he walked into an entirely separate hallway, one he had never really thought about being there. Inside his new room were two beds, perfectly identical to his old bed with the exception of being neat and tidy. There was a built-in closet, a small table with a lamp between the two beds. A young boy sat on the bed nearest to them. From first look, Draco figured he couldn't be more than ten or eleven. He had sandy blond hair, and freckles dotted his face. The boy looked up from a book on his lap at Draco and Astoria.

"Hi," he said.

"Are you Logan?" Draco asked.

The boy nodded. "A Healer said you'd come. Who is she?" He gestured to Astoria.

She smiled at him. "I'm Astoria. It's nice to meet you Logan."

He smiled back before he returned to his book.

"I'll leave you to it Draco. See you tomorrow," she said in her soft voice. Draco hadn't realized her hand was still in his until he felt the empty spaces between his fingers.

It didn't take long for him to put away his clothes. After folding his shirts and pants, Draco settled onto his bed, content with cocooning himself in his sheets. Logan had barely moved. Occasionally, Draco would hear the rustle of a page being turned. He almost felt curious to ask Logan what he was reading. Almost. Draco huddled himself into the blankets.

"Draco?" Logan's voice had not begun to change yet.

"Yeah?"

"I... I have these... Some nights... I might wake you up," Logan stuttered.

Draco peered out from his sheets at the boy. Every patient in the ward had been diagnosed similarly. Logan's case was more than likely related to Draco's. Draco wouldn't be screaming alone tonight.

"You can't wake me up if I don't sleep," Draco said before turning over.

February 28, 1999 was a day that often slipped into the cracks of Draco's memory. He could remember how Astoria had touched him that day, the feeling of her fingers in his. It was a feeling he would never forget. Between Astoria and Logan, February 28th undoubtedly marked a turning point in the life of Draco Malfoy.