𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Tantrum

Madame Pomfrey bustled around the hospital wing, cleaning the spotless ward to pass the time. It was mid-afternoon and the golden sun was streaming in through the west facing windows. A particularly bright sun beam fell across the only occupied bed in the chamber, and the figure, bathed in white, stirred slightly. Hardly noticing the movement whatsoever, she made her way towards the table and began to dust cheerily, a light smile and song on her lips. Yet through the sunbeam, a delicate hand reached out from the white bed-sheets. A gasp emitted from her lips, and her dim blue eyes wide, she looked swiftly down at her arm to find that Draco's hand had just brushed against the thin fabric of her sleeve.

"Oh! You're awake now?" she stuttered, taking a step away from him and looking down at the thin and particularly pale boy. His eyes were covered in a thin wrap of gauze and he looked more like a frightened lost little boy than even she would care to admit. When had he grown up so suddenly, she wondered sadly? And when had he unexpectedly become a child again?

The old nurse was not quite sure what to say. The Malfoy's were known for their tempers—already, the boy seemed to have realized his condition. The Slytherin's lips were moving as though forming words and almost instinctively he reached for his face, yet stopped with a forced motion.

"W- where am I? What happened? Why is it so dark?" the silver-haired boy asked groggily. There was an undercurrent of fear in his voice, one not at first recognizable to the untrained ear. Draco, fingering the flannel underside of the blanket, waited nervously. It was so dark. There was nothing. It was as though he was in the gloomiest of rooms in the darkest of his nightmares, and there was no escape.

Madame Pomfrey's face creased with worry. "You don't remember?" she asked, slightly frantic, moving towards the boy and wondering if he had a fever which induced amnesia. Absently, she wondered whether she should dig out the sleeping potion from the bureau closet.

"I do," came the snake's cool reply, his pink lips twitching into a smirk. "I just thought I'd worry you a bit," the boy drawled with an unconvincing chuckle. Madame Pomfrey's frown deepened even more—she was unsure whether or not the boy was stable. After all, the fact was that he had lost his sight and was dealing with it in the most upfront and brutal of ways. "Mr. Malfoy! That was completely uncalled for!" the nurse scolded, trying not to let herself smile. Really, the boy was too much, even when he was on the brink of potential mental collapse.

The Slytherin snickered as the hapless old bat tutted around for a few minutes, fluffing his pillows, arranging the wildflowers by his bed, adjusting the curtains while she hummed continually. Draco sat quietly, his head down-turned, his breath coming naturally and soft.

Well...this is certainly wonderful, Draco thought spitefully as his hand clenched about the flannel material that seemed considerably rough compared to his own silken sheets.

"I'm hungry." He announced suddenly, looking towards the sounds that were comings from the opposite end of the hall. Good lord, he hadn't been awake five minutes and already he was bored out of his mind.

Madame Pomfrey, glancing up from her desk which was attempting to organize, sighed and conjured up a plate of turkey sandwiches for him, along with a cup of heated pumpkin juice. The cup itself was covered in an opaque lid, one like that a toddler would use. Turning back towards the desk, Pomfrey sighed—she knew that Draco would be furious as soon as he realized he was being treated like an infant, but, she insisted, desperate times called for desperate measures.

With one hand, she flicked her wand and directed the hovering plate towards the rear of the hospital ward, her eyes downcast and she continued to pilfer the papers. Perhaps, she would be able to solve this mystery that surrounded the Slytherin like a cloud.