Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

St. Mungo's

The first thing Draco became aware of was his insides feeling cold. He didn't think it was possible for his insides to feel so cold.

Then was the stabbing pain that came with each gasp of a breath. Then, the unsettling warmth somewhere along his fingers that felt like it should reach the tips. It didn't.

And why did he feel so... open? Hollow?

There were a lot of sounds surrounding him... Something that looked like a face, in front of him. Then, there was a sensation like a hook sinking its teeth into his stomach and twisting his gut. He passed out again, the pain too unbearable for consciousness.

The next time Draco awoke, it was to a blank white view. Everything was fuzzy and he found he was too lethargic to move much. Where am I, anyway, he thought.

"You're awake."

Draco let out a grunt. The voice sounded familiar, but he didn't have it in him to see who was speaking to him, and he still wasn't sure where he was. Everything made his head ache and spin. The face popped its head into his view and Draco's face instantly twisted into a scowl. Of course, Potter.

"How're you feeling?"

Draco didn't answer. Instead, he took a deep breath, noting he couldn't feel it. His face remained in its warped and distasteful state.

"I'd hope you're not in too much pain. The healers said the pain relief potion should last at least a few hours..." Potter looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Should I get them?"

Draco's nostrils flared as he grunted again, moving to sit properly. However, his arm quickly buckled beneath his weight, causing him to land back awkwardly and hiss at the stab of pain that suddenly shot through his arm. Potter scrambled to his side, though unhelpful in his stuttering and tripping about.

"Healers?" It came out as a half-mumble half-growl. Draco tried to shift in his spot, getting tired of not being able to feel anything other than static and pain overloading his senses.

"You're in Saint Mungos." Draco weakly turned to face Potter, who smiled bashfully. "We found you in time." His face then fell, a sort of haunted look in his eyes. "You're the only one who's lived after encountering this guy..."

Suddenly it all clicked in Draco's brain. His gut turned and his heart began to race. He looked down at himself hurriedly, trying not to let the fact that he'd just nearly been killed actually process in his mind, lest he would have a nervous breakdown for Potter to watch.

He seemed to have all of his body parts, though he couldn't properly assess the damage considering he was clothed and bandaged. He held his hands in front of him, noting how they trembled with earth-shattering force. The tips of some of his fingers were bright pink with what appeared to be fresh skin. When Draco attempted to move each finger, a shock like lightning shot across his hand and arm. He gasped, allowing his fingers to rest back into their previous positions. What happened to me? What has he done?

Had Astoria endured the same pain before she...

"I wouldn't do much of that right now," said Potter, reminding Draco of his presence. He huffed. "The healers had to grow some back. It'll be a bit before you can move them without much pain."

Draco's chest was heaving as he forced himself to calm down, to stop and recollect, to at least be more present within himself, to not bloody tear Potter a new one.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Draco's head snapped to Potter, giving him a bout of dizziness. Couldn't the imbecile see that Draco was clearly not in it, right now? Didn't he have the sense to let Draco be?