souvenir
After finishing his juice, Harry noticed that Sirius and Remus still had almost full glasses. Although he wanted to stay with them a little longer, he also felt a strong urge to retreat to his room.
As they sat on the couch, Sirius had his head on his fiancé's lap, slowly sipping his drink. Remus was engrossed in a TV show that Harry couldn't quite categorize, absentmindedly running his hand through Sirius' black hair.
They started asking Harry about Malfoy, a lot. Even if they tried to keep the conversation light-hearted, there was a certain tension in Sirius that nearly went unnoticed by the teenager.
"Do you have many classes together?"
"Do you see him often? Like- in the hallways?"
"Have you ever talked to him?"
To the last question, the answer was a far-fetched ”no”.
In indeed did, though, during Harry's first year at Hogwarts.
It had been overwhelming for him, especially after constantly changing schools and environments for what felt like the hundredth time. However, after bumping into Ron at the entrance, they instantly clicked, and Harry finally felt a glimmer of hope.
That's when Malfoy entered the picture. At first, he didn't seem like the type to draw attention to himself because of his demeanor. He rather appeared to be only a child from a good, wealthy family. Perfect posture, a neatly pressed shirt, impeccably styled hair and that small yet elegant smile.
He wanted to be friends and extended his hand to Harry, who was unsure of how to react in that moment, simply staring into the unknown boy’s twinkling bluish-gray eyes.
But then, Malfoy's eyes darkened ever so slightly upon landing on Harry’s new friend(!), filling with an intense hatred that transformed their shade into the murky surface of a dirty lake. He said something about Ron and everything went crumbling down.
Harry couldn't remember what exactly, something about Ron's family and their material status. The ginger got instantly defensive in response, and Harry had to restrain him from lashing out at the blonde git.
Since that incident, they avoided each other like the plague. Ron would shoot daggers at Malfoy in class, yet the blond was too proud to “lower himself to their level”. His expression remained blank whenever they ended up on the same team in PE (which happened only a few times, as Harry eventually realized that Malfoy stopped attending gym altogether), or when they were paired up for a project, or even if they accidentally brushed against each other in the hallways.
Malfoy had his own life, and Harry had his, to this moment. Now, their paths were meant to intersect.
Harry couldn't sit still, constantly fidgeting in his seat. He nervously picked at his nails again, occasionally glancing up at his caregivers. He told them all he knew about Malfoy, although it wasn't much, but they seemed satisfied, albeit a bit more tense.
After yet another round of trying to get comfortable failed, Harry’s brows furrowed, and he let out an exaggerated sigh, placing his hands on his knees and straightening his back, as if preparing to stand. Sirius shifted from where he was sprawled to get a better look at him, causing Remus to yelp.
"Pads, my hip," Remus muttered, attempting to adjust his position, yet his fiancé’s body effectively prevented him from doing so.
Sirius rolled his eyes and reached out towards Harry, arching his back across Remus's lap in a weird angle.
The teenager skillfully dodged his godfather's outstretched hand, which he knew was trying to poke him playfully, and basically jumped up from the couch.
Harry crossed his arms protectively over his middle, his eyes widening, while Sirius grinned mischievously. Remus sighed and took the drink from the other man’s hand before leaning forward to place it on the coffee table, out of his reach, to avoid Sirius accidentally knocking it over. It happened quite often.
"Where are you off to?" Sirius hummed, raising an amused eyebrow. Harry gave him a deadpan look.
"I mean, my options are pretty limited, aren't they?" he muttered in response.
Right, his room and maybe the outside if he was feeling adventurous.
Sirius rolled his eyes and quickly picked himself up from Remus' lap, adjusting his posture. His fiancé protested with a grumble, but the black haired man eventually managed to sit upright without damaging his lover too badly.
Remus let out a huff before his expression softened as he turned his attention to Harry. "Are you really okay, pup?" he asked, gently nudging his partner with his elbow.
Harry smirked softly as Sirius playfully folded over and Remus rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine," the teenager replied, running his fingers through his hair.
Giving his caregivers a one last smile, he walked around the couch, his bare feet guiding him towards the staircase.
"Hey," Sirius called out and the boy paused, glancing back at them.
His godfather had already repositioned himself, resting his upper body against the back of the couch from where he was sat, and propping his chin on his hands. Remus had turned his head towards Harry, his neck likely uncomfortable, wearing an exhausted yet affectionate expression. He had his hand resting on the small of his partner's back.
"We love you," Sirius blew a kiss to Harry, who pouted, adjusted his glasses, and looked away. He lately entered the awkward teenager phase, flushing in embarrassment at any display of affection from them, but deep down, still appreciated it.
"Love you too," he grumbled before practically skipping up the stairs. Remus didn't have the energy to scold him for that, instead chuckling fondly in response.
—————————
Draco looked out the window, his gaze blank and distant. He listened to birds chirping outside, their melodies entwined with the beeping of machines. In this moment, he longed for his father, a deep longing that stirred a numbness within him, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. It reminded him of the pain he felt when he lost his mother, though he desperately hoped his father was still alive.
He had been confined to the sterile room for what felt like an eternity, drowning in a suffocating solitude. Time blended together, the hours and days eluding him as he drifted in and out of sleep, in in the mornings and waking in the dead of nights. The routine of the hospital became a monotonous blur that left him feeling more empty than he thought was the maximum.
Doctors came in and out, and Draco could only silently bear the daily checkups which made his skin crawl. The nurses tried to inject a sense of cheerfulness into their interactions, but he could only feel the hollowness reverberating in his soul, still not uttering a word.
He continued to stay in bed persistently, despite feeling rather embarrassed about needing nurses to assist with his hygiene. His fear of aggravating his cracked ribs further and them potentially piercing through his lungs prevented him from even attempting to place his feet on the floor. Though, he started propping himself up, a small victory.
With his arm in a cast for the next eight weeks, even picking up pills became an impossible task. And the medications they gave him far outnumbered anything he had ever taken with Greyback at the bar.
The welts on his back normally stood as a reminder for him to behave. But as they slowly started healing, fading away, there was a growing feeling of anxiety within him. He feared messing up again, without his father there to discipline him.
In moments like these, Draco almost expected Lucius to appear from the shadows, ready to berate him for any misstep. But here he was now, in the sterile hospital room, and his father was nowhere to be found.
Therefore, whenever the door opened, his head instinctively turned in that direction. He couldn't quite understand why he continued to hold onto hope, or if it was simply due to fear, but the immediate pain shooting through his neck made him instantly regret his actions.
"Draco," it was Mrs. Quinn who entered the room. However, instead of finding comfort in the soft expression on her face, the teenager felt even more dissatisfied. The pity in her blue eyes made him feel helpless, and as someone who still had no clear understanding of how he ended up in the hospital, he didn't want or need anyone's pity, especially from a doctor.
She held a tray of food in her hands which caught his attention. It included a bowl of soup, a small portion of mashed vegetables that didn't look particularly appetizing, and a sliced apple. Draco furrowed his brows.
"Oh no, mister," the woman chided softly while placing the tray on his small bedside table. "It's time for you to transition from receiving drips to consuming normal food. We need you to try and return to your regular eating habits."
To this time, he had silently let the nurses refill his nutrient-filled drips without much complaint. The idea of consuming solid food now made him feel instantly nauseous, causing him to shy away and firmly press his lips together.
She let out a soft sigh. "It's crucial for you to start, Draco. Your body needs the energy and nourishment that solid food provides to regain its strength and allow you to return to your normal eating habits."
He stayed silent, his eyes darkening just a tad.
—————————
After retreating to his room, the first thing that Harry has done was to check the notifications he received while his phone was on the do not disturb mode. He wasn’t surprised to be bombarded with texts and missed face calls from Ron.
Harry knew that his best friend was likely going crazy trying to reach him, but it wasn’t like he was intentionally ignoring him! He simply wasn't in the right headspace to respond at that moment. Yeah. Besides, he figured waiting a day or two couldn’t do any harm, could it?
Sinking onto his bed amidst a chaotic collection of worn plushies, unidentified clothing, and crumpled red blankets, he let out a sigh, scrolling to the first unread message from the ginger.
As he skimmed through the random updates and messages, he pursed his lips, skipping over Ron's rant about the twins. Fred and George apparently handed him down some deliberately dirtied shirts, and Ron was fuming because of it. Normally, Harry enjoyed hearing about their pranks, but it didn't feel exactly relevant in that moment.
Among the messages, there were random pictures and memes from Ron’s gallery, emoji’s that Harry swore he never seen and the information of the ginger’s dinner exploding in the microwave. Apparently, heating aluminum packaging was a bad idea. Two missed face calls also caught the brunette’s attention, but he lacked the energy to call Ron back at that moment.
His best friend also reminded him about the money from their bet on whether Lucius Malfoy (Malfoy) would end up in jail sooner or later.
Harry flung his phone to the other side of the bed and rolled onto his back, groaning. Gazing up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but notice the David Bowie poster that stared right back at him.
"The hell are you looking at?" he grumbled to himself, scowling, and reluctantly reached for his phone again.
After hesitating over the keyboard for a few moments, he finally sent a brief "mate" to Ron. Instantly, his best friend got online.
Harry
- Mate
Ron
- Dude
- Dude what the fuck was that
- Dude
- Where were you
Harry's lips twitched into a small smile, but he still hesitated before responding.
Harry
- You wouldn’t believe it
Ron
- Try me
- BUT YOU LEFT TME ON DELIBERED
- FOR STRAIGHT 18 HOURS
- Harry I hate you u
Harry
- Ron
- Guess what
Ron
- No I don’t want to
Harry
- Ron
Ron
- What
Harry was unsure of how to reply, though. Ron held a deep hatred for the whole Malfoy family. They weren’t something Harry was particularly fond of, either, but he knew that hearing this news might cause his best friend to have a complete meltdown.
Before he could even contemplate his next move, he received an incoming video call from Ron.
—————————
After some more convincing from Mrs. Quinn, Draco reluctantly agreed to at least try to eat. He knew that it would be impolite to refuse food, even if it was just a typically served hospital meal. He didn't want to be bad again.
His hand trembled as he attempted to bring a spoon of the soup to his mouth, causing him to spill the contents on his hospital gown. Quickly, his eyes snapped to Mrs. Quinn, who only calmly took the spoon from him, wiped away the mess, and handed him a plastic fork without saying a word. Her actions seemed almost automatic.
There were no scoldings or outbursts; she was patient, as Draco supposed was expected of her profession. She allowed him to struggle without rushing the process, as he desperately tried to scoop up the vegetables with his fork, wholly focused on not dropping anything.
He managed to get the fork to his lips a few times, but not enough to actually taste anything. Though, the food didn’t look too appetizing anyway, so he supposed it wasn’t a big loss.
Eventually, the doctor decided to end his physical suffering (his arm muscles already felt as if they were on fire from the effort), and helped to spoon-feed him small amounts of the soup, which the teenager found utterly humiliating.
He hadn't been able to even try the apples, as his stomach suddenly turned and he vomited. Thankfully, Mrs. Quinn must have anticipated it because before he managed to finish gagging, she quickly provided a plastic bin for him to use.
She didn't make a fuss; instead, she gently massaged his shoulder as he struggled to catch his breath. After ensuring he was okay, she handed him a cup of water, praising and comforting him softly.
She threw away what he had just been the contents of his stomach, leaving Draco feeling utterly powerless as he helplessly watched. Silently, he wished for the ground to swallow him whole.
Once again, Mrs. Quinn smiled gently, told him that he was doing so good and to take it easy. Then she left, leaving the apple slices for him if he felt like trying to eat them later.
And for some reason, Draco felt a growing feeling of longing in his chest, desperately craving for his mother.