THE VISION THIEF - D. MALFOY

49. dittany

I pound my fist hard against the bathroom door, "Seriously hurry up! I don't-" The door abruptly swings open. Steam pours out of the doorway, and Malfoy stands in front of me, glistening with water, hair soaking wet, and pajama pants hanging low on his hips. 

A harsh scowl works its way onto my face. He knows what he's doing, no doubt about it. I try not to stare, so I avert my eyes, not daring to even look at him. "Can you just - can you sit down somewhere, so I can finish fixing your back?" I mutter in a hushed tone. 

"Anything for you, Ashwood," A smug smirk on his face as he waltzes over to the couch, taking a seat. I snatch the bottle of Dittany off the nearby counter, following him as I begrudgingly sit down next to him. He positions himself so that his back is facing me. 

I eye the several, large open cuts on his back. Without the dried blood covering his whole backside, I can finally see better. "I hope you know what you're doing," he mumbles. 

"Me too," I breathe out. 

"What?" He exclaims turning around and grabbing my hand that has the bottle in it. 

"Nothing just - turn back around!" I snap, ripping my hand from his solid grasp. "You've got to be shitting me. You don't even know how this stuff works!" He cries out. 

"Um, it seems pretty straight forward," I roll my eyes.

"Easy for you to say!" He growls out. I grab his shoulder, shoving him forward, so he faces away from me once more. "Just shut up, and we can get this over with!" I retort. He doesn't say another word, but his back goes rigid. Slughorn had briefly talked about Dittany once in potions. I remember him saying just a couple of drops can help heal even very deep wounds, with a slight stinging sensation of course. 

I brace myself, taking a single dropper before applying it to the first of Malfoy's gashes. He immediately hisses out in pain, his back flexing completely, as he tries to pull away. I grab both his arms, pulling him back towards me. 

"Stop! Stop. You're fine!" I tell him but watch in horror as new skin grows back immediately. The sight is anything but pretty. However, I shake my head, desperate to get this over with. I continue applying it to the rest of his cuts, and deep gashes. His reaction isn't nearly as bad as the first time, instead, he remains stiff as a board, slamming his fist into the cushions of the couch or letting out the occasional pained grunt. I just roll my eyes. 

Regardless of his stone-cold exterior, and common snide remarks, Draco Malfoy was quite a baby. 

I finally, finish. I pull back for a brief second, admiring my handy work. Although  it's not perfect, what was once large gashes and open wounds, is now healed over with new skin, a slight pink tinge making each former cut look like a light scar. A drastic improvement indeed. I run my fingers across his back. The skin now feels perfectly fine besides the slight discoloration. 

He pauses suddenly. Only making me pause. He pulls away from my touch, his back stiff and rigid. I blink hard as I pull my hands back. "You should go," he says in a low tone.

"What?" I breathe out. 

"You should go," he says sharper. "You Father is probably waiting to see you," he adds. 

"Oh," I say. "Right." I shake my head. 

I stand from the couch, feeling confused at his sudden change in his demeanor. Did I do something wrong? I place the bottle back on the counter, and begin walking towards the door. I pause, taking one last look at him before I step outside. 

He sits on the couch, his head in his hands. 

* * * * *

"Does is hurt still?" Astoria Greengrass whispered to Draco Malfoy. She was seated next to him, sitting on his four-poster bed in the Slytherin dorms. "No," he muttered in a quiet and empty voice. To be honest, nothing really hurt him anymore. He was an empty shell of the boy he once was.