Silver Eyes

Silver Eyes

Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy had never been loved before.

When he was a very little boy, his mum had pretended to love him, even told him that she adored him a few times.

But she never really had.

And there was no question about his father. His father couldn't love anything, could only feel hate.

So, Draco had gone through his life unloved.

That is until Anna.

As Draco reached four, his parents had gotten more and more busy. They didn't have time to tale care of young Draco. So they had called for Anna.

Anna was his mother's, cousin's best friend, or something of the like. She was a squib.

Draco remembered his first impression when he heard of her. A squib? Oh no! Is it contagious?

But that melted away when he met her. She was a short woman, with a few extra pounds around the waist, and completely unlike anyone he had ever known. She had a darker tone to her skin than those other adults he knew, and had long, shiny black hair, which she braided into a long dark plait.

And she had the kindest brown eyes he had ever known.

The night before she had arrived at the Malfoy manor, his father had been drunk. His mother had been crying. It was a shock of tears, and blood, and wine.

When Anna arrived, Draco refused to leave his room.

He was sitting at the window, stoically staring out, features flat when he heard a gentle knock at the door. He made no response, but she came in anyway.

"Go away," he had said, his voice flat, eyes still searching out the window for something that couldn't be found.

"Aw, but you don't really want that," she had the nicest voice, like warm honey.

"Yes I do." That was when he turned to glare at her, but he had made the mistake of looking into her eyes.

She had the sweetest eyes he had ever seen, without the faintest trace of anger or iciness in them like he was so used to seeing. So he didn't glare. He merely looked at her.

She reached out a gentle hand to him, placing it on his shoulder, and then he felt the strangest sensation. It was like- his eyes were filled with water, and it was pouring over. He raised an incredulous hand and felt his wet cheek.

"What's wrong? Haven't you ever cried before?" Anna's voice was light, teasing. But then, he stared up at her. And when she saw the look in his eyes, the smile was dashed from her face. She folded him in her arms.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

It was the first time he had ever cried.

When Harry Potter woke up, the first thing he realized was he could hardly see. He wondered about that for a minute. Why wouldn't he be able to see? Ah yes! His glasses! Harry allowed himself a small triumphant smile that he had remembered, though something was odd. He had been wearing the glasses forever. Why would it have taken so long for him to remember them?

He stowed it away in the back of his mind where lay things that confused
him, and decided to do something about his blurry vision.

Easier said than done.

He made a valiant attempt to grab his glasses and put them on, but discovered that his arm didn't seem quite able to move. He struggled harder, and was rewarded with a piercing pain coursed though his arm into his neck.

Now, why would that be?

Suddenly he was aware that a slender cloud was hovering over his bed. Hm... He thought carefully, Perhaps I should ask them for help! Yes, that was the thing to do. Ask for help.

It struck him that it was a little odd for his brain to be functioning so slowly but he put that away with the glasses thought. Just to give it company. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He let out a little wheezy noise, than tried again. Still, nothing came out.

Really, Potter," a voice from the cloud came, and Harry was aware that it seemed to be striking a pose, "I know I'm pretty, but you don't have to gape at me. Despite common belief, Pansy's behavior is not becoming."

"Malfoy," Harry was shocked that he had managed to force the word out, though the fact that it was a bit squeaky and raspy did not shock him at all.

"Very good, Potter," there was a trace of a smirk in the voice, "Next thing you know, you'll remember your name."

Suddenly, Harry saw, through his blurry vision, a very large, cloud bustling over him, and the smaller cloud (who was Malfoy). "Mr. Malfoy, you are in no condition to be out of bed or harassing my other patients. Get back into bed this instant!"

The cloud of Malfoy didn't flinch away as Harry might have, but, rather, held itself very haughtily, and marched into bed as though it had been his whole intent in the first place.

"Now, dear," Madame Pomfrey said, carefully smoothing Harry's covers until it was rather hard for him to breathe, "What do you need?"

Harry gagged, then, gathering what little saliva he still had left, he managed to choke out, "Glasses," then, "Water." A moment later, he felt something smooth and very familiar slip onto his nose, and the world came into focus. The hospital wing? Ah yes, Madame Pomfrey would be in the hospital wing. She was the nurse. It seemed very
bright, almost blinding. He blinked, then listened to the calming sound of water running, and soon felt Pomfrey tip a glass against his mouth.

It seemed, though, that the water rather painfully broke a barricade in his mind, and a flood of questions instantly inundated through, and filled it up. He sighed. He really didn't feel like talking much, but the situation called for it. "Why -" he winced when his voice sounded squeaky, trying to ignore Malfoy's snigger, and swallowed hard. "Why am I here?"

Madame Pomfrey gave Harry a look that assured him that, had he been standing up, she would have asked him to sit down. "Do you remember what happened to put you in here?"

Harry tried to nod, but found he couldn't. He remembered it like it had happened moments ago, the fear, the realization of his sheer stupidity, thinking Malfoy was a prat . . . he furrowed his brow. "Yes," he murmured

"That was 3 weeks ago."

If Harry had been able to move, he would have shot bolt upright with a startled yell. As it was, he merely twitched a bit with a startled yell, and burst into a rather vibrant string of curses, not seeming to need a breath.

"Yes," Madame Pomfrey comforted Harry, "That was how Mr. Malfoy reacted too."

"I was much more creative, though, " Malfoy muttered sullenly from his position on the bed.

Harry finally fell off, unable to think of anymore curses that suited the situation. "Pathetic," Malfoy called, "I went on for a good five minutes more."

Harry ignored him, bristling, annoyed. "What happened?" he asked Pomfrey, not bothering to be polite or hide the frustration in his voice.

Pomfrey flinched slightly at his rough tone, but kept her composure remarkably well considering the swear words she had just been exposed to. She spared no words, expecting correctly that he would prefer it that way. "You broke your neck."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

"When Mr. Malfoy fell on you, it was from a great height at a great speed. It broke your neck with a snap," she demonstrated with her fingers. Harry winced. "Mr. Malfoy didn't fare much better. His lower back was broken in the fall. If you were in the muggle world, you would both be dead."

"B-but don't you die instantly when you break your neck, anyway?"

"Well, not necessarily. Actually, you were fairly lucky. Had the break been one vertebrae higher, you would be dead. As it is, you will stay in bed for another day, and then be sore for about a month. Minimal movement, please. Mr. Malfoy hear, as he has so aptly demonstrated, has recently regained his ability to move. He will be leaving soon, but I want him to stay for observation. Broken back have a nasty tendency to relapse."

Harry glanced over at Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. The boy appeared to be staring out into space, not paying attention. But Harry could see the steely look to his eyes that showed that he just wanted to not be paying any attention. He was hearing every word. Harry sighed.

"Look, Madame Pomfrey, can I speak with Malfoy alone for a minute? I
can't start a fight with the condition I'm in," Harry couldn't quite
mask the pure irritation from his voice, or his eyes, but he hoped beyond all
hopes that Pomfrey would . . .

"All right," Madame Pomfrey said, making her way to the door.

"What?" Harry said, hardly believing his ears, just as Malfoy yelped from his place on the bed, "Don't leave me alone."

"I said all right," Madame Pomfrey announced, "You two should have a good talk." She made her way out the door. "Have fun."

Harry gaped as she left, then catching hold of himself, glared as best he could at Malfoy. "All right, Malfoy, what the hell is going on here?"

"Stay out of this, Potter. You aren't anyone's knight in shining armor. You aren't going to save anyone. You weren't meant to be involved." Malfoy's voice was cold and hard. He was shooting Harry with a look meant to kill.

"But I am involved. Ever since you nearly killed me, I've been involved. Tell me what's going on."

"This isn't some game of make-believe."

"I never said it was."

"Careful, Potter, if you burrow your nose in too far, you might fall in."

"You wouldn't care if I fell in. You never have."


Malfoy fixed him with an empty stare. "Damn straight." And with that, he stood up, and swept out of the room. Harry watched Malfoy's retreating back. If he had been well, he would have gotten up and ran after the stupid prat. As it was, he just sighed, and sank further into his bed, a feeling of dread in his heart, lack of sleep forcing him to slumber.