WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

32.

I stare up at the blank ceiling. I blink once. Twice. Thrice. The swirls seemed to have changed. They look like giant jellyfishes and squids and turtles and seagulls and the ocean. I wish I was there. I wish I was anywhere but here.

I imagine the fishes. Their fins fluorescent as they swim close to the surface. I imagine eager faces looking through the disorientated surface of water due to the refraction of light. I imagine the beaches, the sand soft and hot against bare feet. People stretched out, sunbathing. People, enjoying cocktails and sharing happy memories. People. Regular people with regular lives. I must have been cursed to get this. To be this.

I breathe out through my mouth and rub my hands over my face. I wince. My back hurts. A single stray tear slips down my face. The tables next to me are covered in flowers and gifts and chocolates and get-well-soon cards and all the hopes that I don't have.

I struggle to get up. My palms are suddenly sweaty, and my arms are dry sticks. I grimace and fall back on my back. The ache shoots up; I arch my back pain. Another tear slips down my face. And another. I shut my eyes tight and clench my jaw trying to keep myself from screaming out.

I hear the sound of approaching footsteps echo though the wing. They're too heavy to be Madam Pomfrey's. I quickly wipe my face and take a deep breath. I take to starring up at the ceiling once more.

Not too long after, I see the moonlight reflect off the pale blonde hair. What does he want? The whole Quidditch team had come earlier today. It was Angelina Johnson who had blasted me backwards. They had their share of curses at her and told me that I needed to heal. "Don't worry about anything except yourself." Not sure I can do that. Heal, I mean.

"What do you want," I say in a hoarse whisper. He doesn't reply, just moves in closer so that he's standing by my side.

He shakes his head and sits down on the chair. It squeaks ever so slightly.

I look at him. His eyes are downcast he's staring at his hands. I try to raise my head, grunt and fall back down. It hurts so much. I feel the pain intoxicate my system. To be completely honest, it has done that already.

"Do you need help?" he asks gently. Reluctantly, I nod. Stepping closer, he gently places on hand below my neck, lifting it up. His hands are ice. Literally. I shiver. He guides me into a sitting position; I rest my neck on the pillows and sigh.

"Thanks," I breathe, pulling the duvet to cover myself.

He nods, "how are you?"

"Not much better than was when you last saw me," I shrug. "The only difference is, I'm afraid of bleeding onto the sheets."

He gives me confused look, "I don't think your wound will open up -"

"Not that kind of bleeding," I cock my head. It takes him a moment to catch up; his face colors up a little.

"Oh," he says feebly, "So is it your – uh -"

"Time of the month?" I ask, chuckling, "yeah."

He nods awkwardly, "uh, is there anything I can do?"

"Who are you and what have you done to Draco Malfoy?" I laugh under my breath. This isn't half as bad as I expected.

He runs a hand through his hair and chuckles. "Do you want some chocolate?"

"I could never deny one, but why do you ask?"

"It's just," he avoids my gaze, "I've heard it helps."

"You know what really helps right now?" he finally looks at me and raises an eyebrow. "You, talking, like a civil human."

His lip curls up into a signature smirk, "don't get too used to it."