The Malfoy Project

𝟗𝟒 - 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

     ༻❁༺

     The hospital wing. Again.

     Why?

     My last complete memory is standing on the street in Hogsmeade, Draco in front of me with a look of betrayal on his face. He'd left me there, hadn't he? Because it had not been his hand that had guided me back to Hogswarts. I remember it, the grip, but not who it belonged to. Later I will find out that it had been a kind wizard who'd been observing the scene from the store opposite Madam Maudlin's. His hold had been firm and supportive, holding me up so I would not trip over my own feet as we stumbled back up the hill. He is not the type of man to be afraid, I just know.

     I am not angry with him. There isn't time to be. The moment I get to the hospital wing, Wainscott swoops me in her arms like a mother hen and I am whisked straight off for a cold shower. 

     There is a lot of fussing. People rarely get sick in springtime, so Pomfrey and Wainscott have no one else to tend to, and thus have made it their sole mission to make sure I needn't move a muscle for anything during my stay here. I find this a little suffocating. It feels like I am constantly being watched, and I hate that. Hate the way their eyes track me, anticipating my next move, thinking they know what's good for me. It reminds me of how Monty looks at me. 

     A Healer comes to see me. It is not Hans Linström. This one is much younger, with a salt-and-pepper beard, instead of snow-white like Lindström's. Instead of the bright green robes of St Mungo's, his are a deep wine red, which lends him an air of importance. His manner isn't like his older contemporary, either. He is gentler, more personable. He asks me what my favourite food is, and if I like pets, and if my symptoms are causing me any pain, and if I prefer sweet or savoury. He then tailors my medicine to my answer. The brew he gives me isn't garlicky, but sweet with a tinge of grassiness, like elderflower honey. He comes every day at eight in the morning and eight at night to give it to me.

     Hannah and Ernie come to see me often, bearing all sorts of treats: bread pudding, fresh fruit, and even a bunch of white daffodils laced with bright blue forget-me-nots, freshly picked from Greenhouse Two, and, to my delight, crystallised pineapple.

     "You don't look sick at all," says Ernie, handing me a piece.

     "That's because I did her skincare," says Hannah proudly.

     "Why don't you ever do mine?" says Ernie, and Hannah's lips curl in disgust before she pops a square of pineapple into her mouth.

     I chew and swallow. "Guys... where is Draco?"

     Hannah's eyes slide to Ernie. He dusts his hands, not meeting my eyes. "He's in Potions at the moment."

     "Oh." Before I can say anything else, Ernie waves an envelope at me. "This came for you today. Guess I'll add it to the pile?"

     I nod, and he tosses it onto the stack of unopened letters by my bed.

     "Are you ever going to open them?" he asks.

     "Maybe. But I'm really not in the mood. Has Draco asked after me, by any chance?"

     "Oh, leave it, Ains," Hannah sighs irritably. "He left you on the street when you were literally throwing your guts up!"

     "But did he tell you why?"

     "It doesn't matter why! How heartless can you be to do something like that! It's nice he bought you a dress but he left it there too, the pig!"