𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Hospital

Hermione had left the hospital wing some days ago, but the night that Draco had spent alone had been one of the longest in his existence. He often times found himself waking like clock-work, unconsciously waiting for No One's gentle steps against the marble floor. Even when No One had come to reassure him that, as he put it, he "wasn't mad," Draco was still unnerved. Over the course of many days the Slytherin had begun to wonder if No One was just not a figment of his imagination. His dreams, fantasies, illusions (or whatever he wished to call them) had never been this real in the past, but maybe, he supposed, now that he was older the element between fantasy and reality had grown thin...

Especially when he was getting drugged up by the day with anti-pain medication...

It wasn't as though he wanted No One to be a figment of imagination—it was much nicer to think of him as something realand tangible. Yet was it this possible to be so disillusioned?

Draco wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure about much nowadays—and this seemed very, very strange considering that he was a Malfoy.

He would be the last to admit he was unnerved.

"This is ridiculous," he grumbled to himself pulling the blankets off his torso. He had become quite overheated.

Things had not been going very well. What, considering he had that dream (though maybe a fantasy)the night that Hermione had been in the hospital.

Goodness, having dreams like thathad been the last thing he needed just to make this relationship even more uncomfortable. He didn't even know what the bloke looked like and he was imagining things with him.

Draco sighed and grimaced. The boy was late.

Deciding that he really didn't care, he opted to go back to sleep considering he hadn't been sleeping well very well anyways. If No One didn't show up, that was none of his concern. There was no formal agreement between the two of them, anyway.

Lying down, the pale boy closed his eyes.

And then opened them.

Oh, who was he trying to kfool? Of course he cared whether or not No One visited him. The past several nights, he'd been making a lot of progress walking. One part of him wanted to not do well, just so No One would keep his arms around his waist, but he slowly started pulling away. First, his hands had rested upon his waist, and then on his shoulders, and last night, No One had looped arms with him and walked besides him. It was odd walking arm-in-arm with another boy in the dead of night up and down the hospital ward, but it was, well, fun. He smiled a lot when No One was around. That, in itself, was a rare thing, indeed. Malfoy's weren't notorious for smiling, but it seemed that just thinking about No One caused him to smile. He had to constantly remind himself to stop smiling during the day. However, it kept getting harder and harder to consciously stop from doing so. Like now. This was bloody terrible.

I'll have to work on that, he thought.

Draco sat up in bed, an intentional scowl on his face. He was becoming too bloody soft and mushy, and very un-Malofyesque. He didn't need any-bloody-one, figment of his imagination or not. He could walk by himself, he didn't need No One. Or anyone, for that matter.

Slowly rising from the mattress, the sightless boy swung his bare feet off the bed onto the cold floor and paused there, as though weighing the options. Whether or not he was ready wasn't the point—he needed to prove that he wasn't as dependent as No One presumed him to be. He wasn't a baby to be pampered—not that he didn't enjoy being indulged but, still, he was a Malfoy.