While the Pierce family was considered an old family; wealthy and respected amongst even the most elite members of wizarding society, the family held no pretense at family meals. While some of their peers demanded the smartest dress and manners at all gatherings, none of that could be seen here. Indeed, to look upon them as they sat down to their breakfast together one could see no formal dress and amongst themselves an elbow on the Pierce table could pass without comment.

This morning Ian Pierce sat down at the table in loose casual pants after a quick shower. The band had played the night before at a muggle establishment. The crowd had been receptive but far more demanding than they were used to, leaving them all exhausted and a little in doubt about what they were trying to accomplish. Things in general had been difficult since Draco had gone back to school, and not just for him.

Ian smiled into his drink. Draco had such a way about him. He seemed to be able to read them and a disagreement amongst them that could have lasted hours could be extinguished by a mere comment from Draco in seconds. He always seemed to grasp what was at the heart of the matter, which Ian supposed, was how Draco also managed to make so many people at school dislike him when he used his talent to aggravate.

“Things a little rough in the music business? You look half asleep still.” Ian’s dad Holden said good-naturedly as he stabbed a bit of fruit with his fork.

Ian shrugged, “Last night was exhausting and the manager of the pub wasn’t very friendly. If Draco had been with us he would have sweet-talked him into having us back. As it was, we had the placed packed and he acted like we were a bother.”

“I’m sure Draco would rather have been with you. I wish he was more excited about his last year of school.” Narcissa Malfoy lamented.

Ian wished to refrain from replying and was saved from taking that conversation further by a brown owl gliding in through the open window. He almost ignored it when it landed in front of Narcissa, but wasn’t that one of Hogwart’s owls? Yes, it was the same type of owl that delivered Draco’s material lists every summer and most recently, Ben’s Hogwarts letter.

Ian sat up a little straighter. Draco had his own owl. This letter was from the school. Something was wrong.

He watched as Narcissa Malfoy’s face drained of color as she read the letter.

“I want to see my son!”

Albus Dumbledore observed the woman obviously distraught over her child, but kept his expression impassive. “Calm yourself, Mrs. Malfoy,” he said kindly, “Your son is just fine and you may see him in a few moments. Would you please accompany me to my office?”

The lovely woman before him seemed to get hold of herself as she narrowed her eyes, “Unsupervised Quidditch, Headmaster? You’re lucky I don’t sue you and the school!” She said before turned sharply and waiting for him to lead the way.

Albus let his eyes crinkle in amusement. “I was expecting to hear that from you husband and not from you. I am rather surprised he is not with you.”

Narcissa Malfoy stiffened at the mention of her husband, but replied simply, “Lucius is away on business.”

Albus guessed that was at least a partial truth. Though wizarding gossip was still talking about the lovely party the Malfoys had hosted over the summer, spies for the order had informed him that not only was Lucius Malfoy still exhibiting suspicious behavior, but also that not all was well in the Malfoy marriage. Narcissia hadn’t spent more than a month all together at Malfoy Manor since the beginning of the summer.

They didn’t speak again on the way to his office, though Mrs. Malfoy gave a quiet snort at his current password of ‘Maynard’s Wine Gums’. They were his current favorite. When they reached his office however, the worry on her face returned when she saw Severus Snape waiting for them.

“Mrs. Malfoy, I trust you already know Severus Snape,” Albus said as he motioned for her to sit.

The Headmaster watched as concern creased the mother’s face as she looked at her son’s head of house. “Yes, Severus, how are you? How is Draco?”

“He is truly alright, Narcissia,” Severus assured her. “I was just with Madame Pomfrey and she said that he has already been awake this morning.”

“Would you care for some tea, Mrs. Malfoy, while we wait for Madame Pomfrey to join us?”

“No, and I would much rather we get on with this so I can see my son. Is there no way we could start without Madame Pomfrey?” Mrs. Malfoy said wringing her hands impatiently.

Albus’s eyes twinkled, “No need to wait any longer I do believe our dear Medi-Witch has just arrived. Do have a seat, Madame Pomfrey.“ The matronly woman came bustling in and took a seat. “Now then, the accident was explained to you this morning in detail I believe so let us get onto the point of this meeting. Madame Pompfrey, do please explain to Mrs. Malfoy what happened last night.”

When the Medi-witch with the help of Severus had explained the situation surrounding the mysterious healing field Albus once more spoke up to conclude. “We are all very much baffled by these events Mrs. Malfoy and we were hoping you might help us shed some light on them.”

The face of Draco’s mother was drawn with worry and confusion, “I don’t understand what you expect me to know. I mean, Draco has always been sensitive to potions ever since he was a child. A weak pepper up potion for a common cold was enough to keep him up all night. Could that explain this?”

There was a silence as the three other member of the room shared a look. Finally, just when it looked as if Narcissa Malfoy would stand up and start demanding answers, Severus Snape spoke up, “Narcissa, what you have mentioned does confirm slightly a theory we have about what happened. What do you know about natural healers?”

“Very little. Lucius’s grandmother was a natural healer. She came into her abilities rather young when her sister almost drowned. She was in hysterics but somehow managed to revive her sister even after she had been submerged for some time. However, it was seen as improper for a girl of her upbringing to get her hands dirty by healing commoners so her gift was never developed,” Narcissa explained, beginning to get a sense of where this was going. “Do you think Draco is a natural healer?”

“It is a possibility,” Madame Pomfrey said thoughtfully. “Usually a person exhibits sensitivity to potions or any spells or charms applied directly to their person. A touch of empathy is not uncommon either. The part we are having a difficult time understanding is what caused his abilities to manifest.”

“Generally,” Albus cut in, “the manifestation is triggered by a situation similar to the one you described; the natural healer is faced with a stressful situation where someone important to them is in danger of dying. Never, in anything we have heard reference to has the manifestation been triggered by a danger to the natural healer himself.”

“It is our theory that if indeed your son is a natural healer his manifestation occurred prior to this event or that, somehow, when Mister Potter attempted to save him and then ended up injuring himself, that was enough to bring Draco’s natural abilities to the surface. However, since Mister Potter had been removed from your son’s range, the healing energy returned to him and did its work where it was needed most,” Severus explained.

Mrs. Malfoy sat for a moment absorbing the information, then, “How do we know he’s a natural healer for sure? What does this mean?”

“This could mean that your son has a very special gift, Mrs. Malfoy. Should he choose to, he could begin exploring his new talents by spending time with Madame Pomfrey or by doing extra study with Professor Snape. After graduations a number of opportunities would be open to him. As for being sure, a few days helping in the hospital wing should give us enough time to observe and be sure of our conclusion. This is, of course, all up to young Mister Malfoy and his parents. We give you the option of being the first to discuss this with your son,” Albus concluded.

Narcissa Malfoy nodded, “Take me to my son.”

Draco stood in the bathroom once again. Why was he here? The pristine white of the tile was blinding as he turned around for a way out. There was no door, only more white tile. It wasn’t until he made a complete circle that he saw it: one of the mirrors that hung over the sinks. It seemed to be the only thing to disrupt the endless expanse of white.

Before he knew it, he was in front of the mirror and staring at his own reflection. He too appeared white. His hair and his skin practically glowed far paler than he could remember it ever being before. Draco lifted a hand to touch his own face, which looked to be made of marble, when suddenly a new color exploded across the surface of the mirror.

Red.

It was on his hands. Thickly, it dripped from the hands of his mirror image into the sink. It filled the sink to the brim at alarming speed and slowly seeped down the sides and onto the floor. Draco looked down. He was naked. Blood was dripping down his legs and a sudden stab of pain sent him to his knees.

“Help me!” Draco tried to call out as blood started oozing down the walls.

“Why would anyone want to help you?” came a sneering voice from behind him.

Despite his pain, Draco managed to turn himself toward the voice. Where there had once only been a wall, there was now a doorway and in the doorway stood a familiar figure.

“Ian! Please help me!”

His lover’s face contorted into a look of disgust, “Why would I want to help you, Draco Malfoy? Look at you. You have blood on your hands.”

Draco sobbed, “Ian please! I love you! You said you loved me!”

Ian’s eyes bore down on him, empty, “Loved you? Yeah, I gave you my love and what did you do with it? You killed it. Everyone was right about you.”

“Please!” Draco sobbed as his lover turned from him.

Suddenly there were more voices and Draco looked up to figures in the sink mirrors looking down on him.

“Murderer!” they chanted. The room was filled with mirrors and all the Hogwarts students were leaning out of them.

“No! I’m not! Please help me!”

“Malfoy!”

“Murderer,” they chanted.

“Stop it!” Draco sobbed.

“Malfoy!...Draco!”

“Please!”

“Draco, wake up!”

Draco Malfoy shot upright in bed despite the protest of his abdomen. Tears rolled down his face and sweat made the bed sheets stick to him, suffocating him as he struggled to escape.

“Dra..Malfoy, are you alright?”

A hand brushed his arm. Draco Malfoy looked up into the startled face of Harry Potter as he sat gasping from his nightmare. He was in the Hospital Wing. It had been a dream.

It was as he came back to himself that Draco realized who exactly it was who was looking at him nervously. Draco opened his mouth to say something. Something caustic? Something in gratitude? His brain hadn’t gotten that far when the sudden adrenaline rush from the moment before began to take its toll and his vision became blurry and white around the edges.

“Malfoy! You’re white as a sheet! Lay back!” Potter ordered and Draco felt himself being pushed back into his pillow. “Madame Pomfrey!”

A buzzing noise seemed to fill Draco’s head and a hot prickly feeling spread over his limbs, but he pulled himself together enough to get Potter to stop his racket, “For the love of Merlin, Potter, can you keep it down? I’m fine.”

For a moment Potter looked like he was about to continue calling for the medi-witch. “Are you sure? I think Madame Pomfrey must have gone to speak with the Headmaster. I can floo his office,” Potter offered, gesturing toward the fireplace.

“It was just a dream, Potter. I think I’ll live,” Draco said with finality.

Potter suddenly looked awkward as he perched on the side of Draco’s bed. “Alright then,” he said. He stood up and started to amble back to his own hospital bed, favoring his right knee. It finally hit Draco like a bludger to the head as he watched: Harry Potter had saved him. When had their relationship gotten so messed up?

Draco felt his usual attitude slip away as he watched almost embarrassed by the way the Gryffindor took care in climbing back into his own bed so as not to irritate his ribs. For whatever reason, Harry Potter had risked his own life to save him, Draco Malfoy. The emotional instability of the past few weeks and the way most of the school had acted toward him since the beginning of the year reminded him that few people in Hogwarts would have done that for him. And here he was, still acting a git.

“Pott..um, Harry,” Draco started as he sat himself up again, still feeling a deep ache in his abdomen. “I really should thank you.”

“Don’t say anything you don’t mean, Malfoy,” Harry said tonelessly.

Unexpectedly, Draco felt his blood boil at the comment. What was it about the other boy that got under his skin so easily? “I always say what I mean, Potter but if you can’t see past who you think I am to accept my gratitude then that’s your problem,” Draco hissed.

The Slytherin was about to pull the covers up over himself and turn his back to the annoyance on the other side of the room when a calm voice broke through the tension.

“No Malfoy, look I…I’m sorry. Old habits die hard and we really are too old for all this bickering.

Draco sat for a moment staring at the ceiling before he nodded and propped himself up so he could look at the other boy, “I never thought I’d ever say something like this, but thank you, Potter. The way things have been lately, there aren’t many people here who would have gone out of their way and gotten themselves hurt just to help me.”

Harry smiled, “You’re welcome. And I know you aren’t responsible. For Pansy, I mean.”

A scarlet flush came to Draco’s pale cheeks, “You saw me. Us. That weekend in the alley.”

“Well, yes, but to be honest I knew before that, ummm…” Harry looked embarrassed, “Hermione sort of told Ron and I everything.”

“She promised!”

“I know. Ron hounded her until she spilled though. Not that I don’t think it was horrible that she gave in.”

Draco sat looking annoyed, “Well I…”

“Oh good!” Madame Pomfrey exclaimed as she came around the side of the curtain that blocked them from the main doors to the infirmary, “You’re both awake! Let me have a look at you first, Draco, and then we’ll see how Harry has mended.”

“When can we go back to our dorms?” Harry asked from his bed. Draco recalled how much time Harry had spent in this infirmary in the past and thought it no wonder he was so anxious to leave.

“Heavens child, not until tomorrow morning, at the earliest. That was some fall you took. You should both be thankful Professor Snape came along when he did,” Madame chided as she bustled around, grabbing potions before finally pulling the curtain around Draco’s bed.

“I feel fine,” Draco half-fibbed, feeling awkward being so confined all of a sudden and Madame Pomfrey frowned at him as if she knew.

“I highly doubt that, young man. I expect if you attempted to sit up without those pillows behind you it would be a different story. Now lay back and dear boy.”

Draco did as he was told and watched as the medi-witch waved her wand over his abdomen. He jerked in surprise as a puff of smoke came back up into the woman’s face.

“You can relax, I won’t hurt you,” the matronly woman soothed.

Draco was ever more surprised at her tone, “I didn’t think you were.”

Madame Pomfrey looked at him, nodded, and then excused herself. Draco could hear her footsteps and they weren’t going toward Harry’s bed but back toward the door. He sat confused for a few minutes and then heard two sets of footsteps making their way back toward him. One set kept going toward Harry and then other stopped outside his curtain. A moment later the curtain opened and Draco felt emotion he couldn’t explain well up in him at the sight of his mother.

Narcissa was dressed as impeccably as ever but Draco could see the worry in the lines around her mouth and the focus of her eyes as she examined him from just inside the curtain. He found himself remembering all the times when he had gotten upset as a child because of something that happened with his friends or because of his father. She would stand in the doorway to his room, contemplating his wounds before coming to him so softly he would find himself talking before she had even reached him, afraid if he didn’t he would explode from keeping it all inside. But he didn’t cry. Never before had he cried in any of those memories, but now as she took a step towards him he couldn’t help himself.

“Mum?”

In the next moment she was with him and helping him up so she could pull him against her. Draco couldn’t tell her what was wrong. Not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t know. He wanted to tell her that, but she just shushed him and pressed his head into her shoulder. He clung to her in a way that would have embarrassed him before. He clung to her both in response to his whining stomach muscles and because this was the safest he’d felt since the beginning of September. In response, the woman before him held her son as he cried his anguish and mumbled words to him as if no explanation were needed for her to understand.

“Mum?” he said again when he had calmed down.

“Everything’s all right. I got a letter from the school this morning and came to see you. We have some things to talk about but that can wait a moment. How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” Draco replied. He was feeling a little embarrassed now and moved back against his pillows. Narcissa took a moment to arrange them before letting him sit back and then started to fuss with the blankets until they were neat and comfortably tucked around him.

“I was very worried about you, Draco,” She finally said.

“I’m sorry, mum,”

“Ian was very worried. Is very worried, I’m sure.”

“Mum?” Draco asked nervously.

“He told us this morning at breakfast, Draco. He told us all. He practically begged me to let him along to see you,” Narcissa replied, her face showing none of the signs Draco was watching for.

They were silent a moment until Draco had to ask, “Are you upset? Are Kate and Holden?”

“Disappointed might be a better word. You went through a lot of trouble to keep this from us, though I can’t say I’m surprised that you two would end up as more than friends.”

“We just wanted to be together.”

Narcissa snorted, “You just wanted to be teenage boys together.”

Draco felt his cheeks burn. Narcissa laughed and Draco looked at her. “I remember how it is at your age,” she told him.

“We’re in love,” Draco defended.

Narcissa smiled at him and stroked his hair, “That’s what Ian said. I don’t doubt it.”

“Why didn’t he come?” Draco asked, shamefully on the verge of tears again as he remembered his dream.

“The letter I received this morning had a little more to say than just about your accident. It was decided that I should come alone to get everything settled and that Ian could come stay in town during the next Hogsmeade weekend. Not that he’s needed our permission before apparently,” Narcissa said, eyeing her son. Draco blushed on cue before turning serious again.

“What else was in the letter? The accident wasn’t my fault, Mum. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault.”

“No one’s blaming you, Draco. It’s just that something happened after you were brought to the Hospital Wing. Do you remember what happened a little while ago when Madame Pomfrey tried to do that spell on you?” Draco nodded so Narcissa continued. “Your magic won’t let her check your injuries, mainly the internal ones where the bludger hit you. Last night it was a healing field that prevented them from administering any healing spells to you. A little while ago Madame Pomfrey described it as a sort of protection barrier.”

“I don’t understand,” Draco stammered, feeling lost all over again.

“The Headmaster, Professor Snape, and Madame Pomfrey all think you might be a natural healer.”

Draco furrowed his brow and looked at his mother. “What?”

Narcissa smiled at his expression and kissed his forehead, “Lay down, darling, and we’ll talk all about it. Be sure you’ll have much to tell Ian when you next see him in addition to your misadventures in Quidditch.”