New story! As usual, I own nothing. Oh, except the Healer in the chapter. Yay, I own something!
Machines beeped as Draco Malfoy opened his eyes. The fluorescent lights overhead blinded him, and so he quickly closed them again. There was a stiffness in his limbs as he attempted to sit up. It hurt too much to move, and even a small amount of exertion left him tired. Blinking slowly, he made another attempt to open his eyes. Despite having to squint, he managed to keep them open long enough to survey his surroundings.
The beeping finally made sense. He was in the hospital; a private room by the looks of it. Looking down, Draco noticed the wires and tubes that connected him to a variety of machinery. The beeping, he deduced, was the heart monitor to the right of the bed on which he lay. It hurt, but he eventually lifted his hand. He tested his fingers, wiggling them as best he could.
The door to his room opened and a young woman dressed in white entered. She wore the familiar Healer garb, but she looked far too young to hold such a prestigious position. The closer she got, the more nervous he became. "Mr. Malfoy, good to see you awake," she said in a soft voice. "I'm Healer Jensen, and I've been treating you this past month."
A month? Why had he been in the hospital for a month, he wondered. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but he found it hard to speak. "Water," was the one word he managed to get out. The Healer nodded and swiftly filled a cup with water. She instructed him to drink slowly, but his throat was so parched he couldn't stop himself from downing the refreshing liquid as quickly as possible. He choked and sputtered for a while afterward, but eventually was able to breathe normally again.
"I told you to go slow," Healer Jensen chastised as she set the cup aside. Wand out, she began to examine him. Her hands moved to his head and began to circle it. It was then he realized it was bandaged with white gauze.
"What happened?" he managed to ask.
Jensen frowned and set her wand down on the nightstand beside the bed. She moved to sit at the foot of the bed and pulled off the black-frame glasses she wore. She looked much younger without the glasses, he decided. Her long blonde hair was twisted up and pulled back from her thin face. Her green eyes sparkled with an emotion he couldn't read. "We don't really know," she replied sadly. "You were brought in a month ago, unconscious. There were traces of magic on you, dark magic. You were bleeding from the back of your head. We're pretty sure you'd fallen and hit it. I was hoping you might be able to fill in the missing pieces."
Draco shook his head and stared at the window without really seeing what was out there. He had no answers to give. "Who brought me in?" he asked.
There was a rustling of paper before Jensen spoke again. "Blaise Zabini." He nodded slowly, wincing when it hurt to move his head too much. "Would you like us to inform him that you've awoken?"
"I guess," he mumbled. "And my parents too. They'll probably want to know."
The Healer furrowed her eyebrows, concerned by his request. "Mr. Malfoy, may I ask - what year is it?"
Without hesitation, he replied, "It's 1998."
A frown accompanied the knit brows. "What do you know about the war?" she inquired.
Draco wracked his mind for memories of the war. He remembered the siege of his ancestral home by Voldemort and his band of Death Eaters. He remembered his task to kill Professor Dumbledore, a task he could not make himself complete. Then, a year later, the Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts, and more hell had broken loose. His friends had died, but so had Voldemort at the wand of Harry Potter. His parents, though, were safe.
When he finished, he looked at her quizzically. She seemed far more worried now than she had when she first came in. "What?" he asked.
The young healer finished making a note in his chart before she spoke. "I'd like to keep you here a little while longer," she informed him. "Because of your...concussion, I'd like to have one of our psychiatric healers evaluate you."
He knew what that meant - she thought he was crazy. Instead of consenting, he turned his head back to the window. It wasn't long before he heard her shoes click on the linoleum floor, then the door to his room opened and closed. Now alone, he looked at the room. There were no cards, no tokens of love from friends and family. There was, however, a simple vase on the bedside table filled with sunflowers. His mother hated sunflowers.
There were voices in the hallway outside of his room. One he recognized as Healer Jensen, but the other he seemed unable to place. It was female, of that he was sure. She spoke through tears, distorting her voice.
"He thinks it's 1998," Jensen said. "Whatever spell was used on him, it's erased six years' worth of memories."
"Including me," the other voice replied. But who was it he was forgetting? "Is there anything you can do to reverse it?"
"We'll see in a few days," Jensen told her. "For now, it might not be a good idea to see him just yet."
"But he's my husband," the voice replied furiously. "Isn't it possible that seeing me could trigger something? His memories of the last six years, perhaps?"
Stunned by that revelation, Draco looked down at his hand for any evidence that this woman was telling the truth. There was no ring on his finger to confirm her claim. After all, he was only 18. He couldn't possibly be married.
"Mrs. Malfoy, please try to understand," Jensen implored. "He thinks he's still a teenager. Seeing you might not be as helpful as you think it is. It's a life we have to ease him back into slowly. Let the psychologist see him first."
Draco heard nothing else as he leaned back in bed. Awake for less than an hour, he was already exhausted. As he closed his eyes, he thought about the voice in the hall. He knew he should recognize it, that he had heard it so many times before. If only he could place her.