𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

DRACO thought he was going to collapse.

His vision blurred and his everything faded around him. He hadn't expected learning how to walk could be so draining. A simple every day task that a person as young as one years old could do, he—at the age of twenty-five—couldn't do it.

He could faintly hear Healer Whitmore's voice somewhere in the room, but his blinking ever so slowly and his heart pulsing being the only sound he can hear distracted him. His eyes flitted between his hands on either side of him, gripping onto the bar as though his life depended on it. He noticed they were trembling, sweating too.

He knew they were going to give in soon; he could feel the pressure building up inside his stomach. But he was determined to take at least one step. Just one, and he'd be satisfied with himself.

"—ster Malfoy?" 

Come on, just one. One. He sucked in a harsh breath as he began to pull his foot up, his whole leg aching with all the pressure he applied. His gut teared as he shook, his ankle barely lifting a centimeter off the ground. 

"—ster Malfoy?"

And with a strangled groan, his foot landed in front of him. He suddenly became aware of Healer Whitmore standing over him, his hand resting on Draco's back. He panted heavily and let his eyes closed, a victorious smile replacing the straight line of his lips as he realized what he had done. 

Healer Whitmore then hummed, "Impressive." Draco glanced over his shoulder at the man and his eyes followed as he wheeled the stretcher back towards him. "You took a step today, that's good. By the time your next physical comes around, you should aim for two or three. Good work today."

Draco couldn't verbally respond, being too worn out and tired, so he graciously nodded as he allowed himself to lie on the stretcher. He followed the pattern along the ceiling he admired so dearly as he was wheeled back to his room.

His head was so heavy, even though he was lying down. He felt his eyes begin to shut and everything went dark.

—

"Where is he?" Draco heard a faint yet familiar voice say frantically.

"I don't know." Another responded, "He can't've gone somewhere himself."

"Maybe it isn't a bad thing, you know." A different muttered, one Draco could not place his finger on.

"Shut up!"

His bed began to move again slowly, closer to the voices. Draco suddenly became aware of the oxygen mask sitting on his face, which fogged up infrequently. He thought that was odd; they only put an oxygen mask on him if something went wrong, and something couldn't have gone wrong, could it have?

He felt himself stop, and then made out a silhouette of a healer going into a room. From what he said next, he knew it was Healer Whitmore.

"Would you relax, he's right behind me. He had his physical this morning, remember?"

"That was this morning," Draco recognized this to be Healer Scamander. "It's almost two in the afternoon. Why is he still with you?"

"His physical...was a bit of a challenge."

"How so?" Granger.

The sound of her voice made his stomach coil. He didn't want to see her, be near her at all. He'd scowl if he could.

"I thought it would be good for him to walk, I thought he was ready for it. But..." He paused, sighing lowly. "He managed to take one step, and then he had a panic attack, and then he collapsed. So, I brought him up to David, and Malfoy's been out cold ever since."

Healer Whitmore then stepped out, and Draco felt himself being wheeled into the room. He felt all eyes on him. 

"He's so pale." Granger murmured, to herself.

"He's always been pale, Hermione."

"Not like that, Harry." Granger turned on her heel and stared at Healer Whitmore. "What do you think caused his...reaction."

Healer Whitmore took a step toward her. "I think it's something to do with his memories. Every flashback he has is a huge weight on his mind and his body, ergo making his entire system slower and more fragile."

"But he hasn't had a flashback in, at least, a week."

"Actually..." Draco croaked as his vision cleared. They all snapped their heads in his direction. He had already heard Granger and Healer Scamander, however he didn't realize Healer Abbott was with them, as well as the unfamiliar man. "I had one last night."

He coughed sickly, and Healer Whitmore took off his oxygen mask, casting a spell over him so he could still feel the effects of the mask, even without wearing it. They seemed frazzled.

"Oh?" Healer Whitmore sounded surprised. "How come you didn't mention it this morning?"

"I was a bit preoccupied, if you didn't notice."

"Enough with the attitude, Malfoy." The unfamiliar man stood forward, glaring at Draco, the vein in his forehead popping as the blonde knew he was gritting his teeth. 

Draco furrowed his brows and scoffed, "Who even are you?"

"You're joking, right?" He turned to look at Granger, who shook her head bluntly. He huffed incredulously and shifted his gaze onto Draco once again. "You fucking know who I am, Malfoy. Stop pretending you don't."

"What sort of significance were you to me if you expect me to remember you?"

"If you don't—"

"Harry!" Granger cut him off sharply. "He isn't lying. Why else do you think he's here?"

"You believe him?!" The man—Harry—said in disbelief. Granger nodded tiredly, and he scowled. "After everything he's done to you your whole life, and you believe him when he says he doesn't remember?"

What had he done? He wanted to know very badly.

"That's in the past." She spoke calmly, only irritating her friend more. "And even if I didn't, we've done tests on him. He has no memories, apart from the ones he has already recovered."

The dark-haired man scoffed iritably. "Why don't you just use a Pensieve? Or even Legilimency?"

Healer Abbott laughed as he shook his head. "We already thought of both of those, and they wouldn't work. It's not that he simply can't remember, his memories are locked away in a box in his mind that only he—in the right moment and time—can unlock. The process will be slow; we've known that much from the start. Patient."

The man's cheeks tinted a dark shade of red, obviously from embarrassment. Granger was shooting daggers at him through her eyes, groaning irritably before yelling at him.

"Seriously Harry, just go."

"I already told you," Glasses boy started, "Not until you at least tell me where you were last night. Ron was very worr—"

"If he was so fucking worried, he would come find me himself!" Granger's voice cracked as a single tear rolled down her face before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. Glasses boy waited a few extra seconds, staring at Healer Abbott before following her out of the room.

Draco didn't know much about Granger; only that she was a Healer, and that they were classmates, and that she was married. He assumed her husband was Ron—the one the man claimed to be so worried about her.

Obviously something happened between her and Ron, and he was determined to find out what.