Harry's POV
A week has past since Malfoy woke up.
Everyday, just before breakfast, I walk down to the Hospital Wing so that Madam Pomfrey can take some of my blood. If anyone asks, I'm so say that she's asked me to take some medication for a headache I've developed recently.
Everyday, Malfoy seems to get slightly better. Colour returns to his features, and he seems more at ease. The bags under his eyes start to fade, making it evident that he's getting more sleep.
He's always awake when I enter, hastily scribbling on what I can only assume to be homework. Since Malfoy woke up, the pile of homework has grown greatly. It seems that for all the work that he's doing, more work just gets piled on. I can only assume that it's Defense Against the Dark Arts work. Seems like something Umbridge would do.
It's Saturday, and Madam Pomfrey is finished taking the blood from my arm, when she grabs my wrist.
"Mr. Potter. Talk to him. You have a lot to speak about, and you haven't said a word to each other! Use your words," Madam Pomfrey exclaims, gently pushing me towards Malfoy's cage.
With a sigh, I shuffle forward. I hear the door to the Hospital Wing shut and the slight click of it locking. Great.
"Err... hi?" I start awkwardly, and Malfoy looks up from his cross-legged position on the floor.
He nods, before looking back down at his homework. Groaning, I crouch down to his eye level, before sitting down.
"I... umm... what are you working on?" I ask hesitantly.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Malfoy says shortly.
"You know, for me literally saving you, the least I could get is a thank you," I snap irritably, "I mean, I don't want to talk to you either, but Madam Pomfrey is making us."
"Oh yes thank you Saint Potter! Allow me to bow down to your greatness," Malfoy mutters sarcastically, hardly moving his mouth.
"Honestly! Is just a simple thanks beneath you?" I ask, annoyed. "You know the only reason I helped you is because Madam Pomfrey made me, right? I could have easily left you to die!"
I obviously hit a nerve, as Malfoy clenched his jaw, and turned slightly away, not replying. Oh Merlin, that was offensive. This isn't going well.
"Sorry," I mutter, "But really, I would appreciate a thank you."
"Thank you Potter," Malfoy mumbles, still not meeting my eyes. Damn, I really did hit a nerve.
"What did I do now!" I ask exasperated. "Why won't you look at me? Why are you muttering everything! Did you change at all from the git I knew last year? Did Hermione lie to me? Did you curse her to be your friend?"
The moment I said it, I regretted it. Malfoy scoots further away from the walls of the cage, folding in on himself. I do want to know the answer to those questions though.
"I did not curse Granger to be my friend," Malfoy growls, still not looking at me, "Honestly, who do you think I am? The Dark Lord? And as a matter of fact I did change, I'm just letting you see what you want to see. A snarky, obnoxious monster."
I'm slightly taken aback. He just called himself a monster. Does he really think he's a monster? Do I think he's a monster?
"I... err... you didn't answer my first questions," I point out, not really wanting to reply to his last statement.
"Honestly Potter, do you listen at all? Madam Pomfrey is taking from you exactly what I need to stay alive in the state that I'm in. I'm still constantly thirsty. You being here, smelling so annoyingly good, is not helping!" Malfoy explains, frustrated, but as soon as he stops talking he does something weird.
Malfoy shoves the sleeve of his school robes in his mouth.
"What are you doing?" I ask, still trying to process everything.
"I helps the pain," Malfoy answers, but it's slightly muffled.
"What pain?"
"My jaw, my teeth. It physically hurts Potter! I'm drinking out of a cup! The fabric tricks my body into thinking that I'm actually biting something," Malfoy explains, and now that I'm looking, I can see other small holes in the sleeves of his robes.
"I- I didn't know!"
Malfoy rolls his eyes. "Well of course you didn't know. You don't pay attention in class! Nor do you read! Anyway, if you had known your dumb hero complex would have kicked in faster."
I stare at him. "My dumb hero complex?"
"Oh come on Potter! Don't play dumb with me. All you Gryffindors just have to help someone when they're in trouble. It's your hero complex."
"Oh," I say, biting my lip. "Err... are you thirsty now then?"
"Duh. We've been over this Potter. Pay attention," Malfoy replies, biting down on his sleeve harder.
Looking at Malfoy, I don't see the boy who bullied me for years. Instead, I see a poor, helpless boy with the world against him. Vampire, disowned, probably a Death Eater, in a freaking cage, but only 16?
Malfoy's pale blonde hair has grown out over his time in the cage. It hangs slightly in front of his face, and I can't help but find my self wondering if it's soft. His sharp features that once I dreaded seeing, now seem to complement him. His startling gray eyes have regained their sparkle, probably due to not being on the verge of death anymore.
Is there really so much more to Malfoy then I originally thought? Hermione calls him Draco, so maybe there's a difference between Malfoy, the bullying git, and Draco, a suffering boy? I had never thought about Malfoy like that. What did he have to deal with all these years? If he was disowned so quickly, did his parents really care for him like I always thought they did?
I have so many questions, but one thing is for sure. I've come to a decision.
I will help him.
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