In the Shadows

Curiosity killed the cat.

At 10 a.m., on 1^st August, Draco Malfoy was slumped against an oversized pillow on his bed, reading one of the textbooks.

"So, you take the asphodel and mix it with..." He rolled his eyes. "I already know all these things. Why the hell am I trying to read this crap now?" He remembered that Malfoys don't use bad language except against their enemies. "Why am I reading this pointless list of ingredients?" Pleased at his self-control, he closed the book and ungracefully tossed it on a nearby table.

"What do I do for the rest of the afternoon?" He paced around, mentally listing the possibilities. They were limited; life at the manor tended to be a little dull. He sighed and took his pick: walking on the hallways until he got tired and was called to dinner. Sighing again, he walked out of the room and into the darkest corridor he could find.

After a few hours of walking, he realized he was lost and stopped to look around. There were two corridors at each end of the one he was in, so he took a left, and then a right. He found himself in a medieval-looking hallway. Draco spotted a door at the far end and hurried towards it.

He slowly opened it and looked inside. What he saw made his eyes widen and his jaw to drop: he was standing in front of his father's collection of Very Rare and Very Expensive Illegal Weapons.

Jaw still dropped, he approached the walls and traced the outlines of the handles with shaking fingers. There was everything he had ever wished for in that room. Well, not everything, there were no girls, but that didn't matter at the moment. He realized that he was looking at about half the merchandise in Knockturn Alley.

A dagger caught his eye. It was made of silver and it had the Malfoy crest on the handle, along with two huge emeralds. He remembered it from the hunting trips he took with his father as a child. This wasn't just a dagger. His father never touched it, or so he recalled. There was something about it that bothered him, so he approached his hand to the handle.

As soon as he touched it, he remembered his father telling him the dagger was 'for muggle use only'... poisoned to kill those who touched it. He withdrew his hand, but it was too late. His head started to feel light and the room was spinning.

He was unconscious by the time he hit the floor.

~*~

Lucius Malfoy was fuming.

"Where is your son, Narcissa?" His voice was sharp and she could feel the anger building behind it.

"I don't know, Lucius. He's not in his chambers, and the elves haven't seen him for quite a long time." She was looking at her plate, unwilling to face her husband's angry eyes. He wouldn't have any of that; with a swift move of his hand, he seized her chin and forced her to face him. She flinched when they locked eyes.

"We'll eat while an elf looks for him."

At that, three elves rushed out the door and into the corridors. Thirty minutes later, Seti came back, carrying a very dead-looking Draco.

Lucius and Narcissa stood from the table and rushed to their son's side. Lucius went to the fireplace after making sure his son was still alive and Flooed him to St. Mungo's.

~*~

The doctors were skeptical about his chances, but the boy fought. He fought hard, because he wanted to live. He still had a lot of things to do. At least that was what his brain had been programmed to think.

He had been in a coma for two weeks before he finally responded to the treatment.

On 15^th August, he opened his eyes to see a doctor and a nurse talking to his parents and Dumbledore. He tried to lift himself up, but he fell back. The noise caused the people in the room to look at him in awe.

His mother walked to his side, showing him her first genuine smile. It only lasted a second, and was replaced by a worried look. Draco immediately noticed a similar thing happening to the others, as if there was worse to come. He looked at himself and saw that he was a lot thinner than he used to be and realized he had been sick for a long time.

"H-how long h-have I..."

"Don't try to speak. My name is Dr Kendricks and this is nurse Fletchly. You've been in a poison-induced coma for the past two weeks." Draco's eyes widened as he remembered the dagger. How could he have been so stupid?

"Is the poison gone now?"

The doctor looked in each of the adults' eyes before he answered the question, as if waiting for permission to answer. "Well, no. This kind of poison can only be fought off with a potion whose recipe-"

"What happened to the recipe?"

"It was lost centuries ago. Master Snape is working on finding an antidote and I'm sure he'll find one soon." He didn't look convincing enough, so Draco forced himself to ask the most painful of questions:

"How much time have I got left if Professor Snape fails to find the antidote?"

"About six weeks. You were lucky you lived through the first week. Don't worry about it, though. He'll find it." Dr Kendricks even managed a smile.

"What will the symptoms be?"

"In the near future, you will experience dizziness, nausea and weakness in your limbs, lack of appetite, and a slight discomfort in your head and back."

"What about later on?"

"There's no need to-" He stopped as he noticed the disapproving look on Lucius Malfoy's face. "Alright. Faint, extreme pain in your head and muscles, cramps, blindness and then... death."

Draco looked slightly annoyed, but said nothing. Dumbledore coughed and spoke.

"There's no need to stay out of school, Draco. Professor Snape will provide you with potions to ease the discomfort and you will be able to attend classes. If your condition deteriorates, you will be moved to the Hospital Wing immediately. You will be taken to Hogwarts on 1^st September by Portkey and remain here until that date. Until then, goodbye!" The elderly man moved towards the door, and Lucius followed after giving his dying son a curt nod.

Narcissa was far from comfortable about the situation. Her lower lip was trembling and she was struggling to keep her composure. This was, in turn, upsetting Draco, who had never seen his mother this shaken before. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed and waited for her to speak. When the silence became a third presence in the room, he finally decided to say something. The problem was he didn't know how to comfort people. It was definitely not a Slytherin trait.

"Mother, is there something troubling you?" He knew it was a stupid question, but the silence was unbearable.

"Wh-what do you mean, Draco?"

"Never mind." He allowed his eyes to roam around the room, but he ended up rolling them. The doctor picked up the move.

"Mrs. Malfoy, the patient needs to rest. You can visit him later, if you wish." He showed her out, flashed a professional smile in Draco's general direction and left. 'The patient' knew the distinguished Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't be caught dead in a hospital; he was looking forward to a couple of weeks of peace and solitude.