When Draco opened his eyes, it was already dark.
The Hospital Wing was empty except for Captain Marcus Flint, who was dozing by his bedside.
"Flint, hiss—" Draco tried to get up, but found that the pain all over his body made it difficult for him to move.
"Please, call me Marcus," the usually fierce Slytherin Quidditch team captain said to Draco with a rare moment of calm.
"Do not move, Draco. You have more than thirty fractures. It is a miracle that you only have fractures after falling from such a height." Marcus's words were full of warmth. "The team just came to see you, but you were sleeping, so I sent them back first."
"What happened?" Draco lay there motionless, and it was discovered that only his eyeballs could move.
"You got the Golden Snitch, we won." Marcus nodded to the bedside table next to Draco's bed, where there was a transparent box containing the Golden Snitch that Draco had caught.
A genuine smile appeared on his usually cold face. "That was a beautiful grab, Draco. I do not think anyone will question your abilities any more, at least not the Slytherins."
"Oh…" Draco's nose tingled, unsure whether it was from the pain or from Marcus's gentle attitude.
"After you fell from the sky, your father and Professor Snape simultaneously cast a Slowing Charm upwards, slowing the impact of your fall. When you landed, you lay motionless on the lawn, and everyone was terrified. The Slytherin students all ran down to see you. Potter flew down too, and the Gryffindors came too." Marcus recounted the entire process in detail, and Draco was slightly surprised by his unparalleled patience.
Then it dawned on him. He understood that at this moment, he had earned Marcus's respect and reverence. This was the only reasonable explanation for why he was willing to go to such lengths to explain all of this to Draco.
"How is Harry Potter?" Draco asked softly. "That rogue Bludger—"
"Potter is fine. As for that rogue Bludger," Marcus chuckled briefly, then said with great interest, "that Gryffindor girl, what was her name again—the one who came to watch your selection matches—is no pushover. She went straight for that rogue Bludger and blasted it to smithereens, leaving not a trace."
Draco gave a strained smile.
Look at the Gryffindor girl I selected. A girl who is not to be trifled with. A troublesome girl.
Hermione Granger.
Was she worried about me?
Although she avoided him like the plague, she blew up that rogue Bludger.
Did she still consider him a friend, even if he was an evil Slytherin? A spark of hope rekindled in his heart.
In any case, she saved his life, and he should thank her properly, Draco thought.
At this moment, he was clearly in pain all over his body, but the inner pain that had tormented him for so long had mysteriously disappeared.
"And your father was absolutely furious. He was yelling at Professor Dumbledore and Madam Hooch. I do not think he will let it go. Later, he and we escorted you to the Hospital Wing, and he just left." Marcus recalled Mr Malfoy's furious outburst at the professors and could not help but feel a deep respect for him.
"...Your father, he is quite the character. That good-for-nothing Lockhart was trying to cast some kind of spell on you, but Mr Malfoy just shoved him aside. I have never seen a Hogwarts professor so humiliated, standing there obediently being reprimanded," Marcus said gleefully.
He finished recounting everything, shut his mouth, and smiled at Draco.
Thank you, Merlin! Thank you, Father! Draco had no desire to be treated by that good-for-nothing.
"Thank you, Marcus. I would like to know how long it will take before I can be discharged," he said softly.
"Oh, Madam Pomfrey just gave you some Skele-Gro and Sleeping Draught. I reckon you will be here tonight growing some bones," Marcus shrugged.
At that moment, the door to the Hospital Wing suddenly opened.
Marcus was astonished to find that the dignified and elegant lady he had met a few times in social circles—Narcissa Malfoy—rushed in like a whirlwind, completely losing her composure.
She ran to Draco's bedside, wanting to touch her son, but afraid of hurting him, she could only helplessly freeze her hand in mid-air, asking him in a heartbroken tone, "My poor Draco! How are you feeling?"
Marcus heard Draco say, trying to sound cheerful, "It has never been this good."
"Like this, completely wrapped in bandages? Thirty-four broken bones?" Narcissa's blue eyes filled with tears as she turned to look at Lucius, who was stepping into the Hospital Wing entrance. Her voice rose angrily, "My son, whom I raised with all my heart and soul, was so healthy and lively when he left home! Only a few months later, he is like this! I told you he was too young, he is only twelve…"
As for Lucius Malfoy, the wizard who had just been cold and cruel to the professors and had just disciplined Lockhart like a dog, he was now at a loss and even a little... cautious because of his wife's rare emotional outburst.
"Mother!" Draco interrupted Narcissa, disapprovingly, not wanting Marcus to see his spoiled side.
He did not want to lose the respect he had worked so hard to earn as the team captain.
Narcissa shut her mouth.
She realised there were other people around.
She realised that her hysteria had left no face for her husband and son.
She realised that this was something a twelve-year-old should not be reminded of, yet her Draco seemed even calmer than she was.
She stopped, trying to regain her composure, feeling somewhat guilty for her undignified outburst.
As for Draco, he could not care less about Marcus's feelings—sure enough, speaking loudly would cause him extra pain.
His bones were screaming.
Marcus touched his nose—knowing he should give the Malfoys some privacy—and politely, but with a touch of awkwardness, whispered his goodbyes.
He could not stay any longer. The notoriously aloof Mrs Malfoy was shedding tears that were unheard of in a century, which made him feel a pang of guilt for illegally employing child labour.
Draco could only say goodbye to him with his eyes.
After Marcus left, Draco whispered to Narcissa, who was wiping away tears, "It is all right, Mother, I will be fine tomorrow. Look at the first Golden Snitch I caught, it is on the bedside table. Is it not beautiful?"
Narcissa's lips trembled as she looked at the bedside table. She picked up the transparent box; a beautiful little golden ball was sleeping inside, occasionally fluttering its delicate silver wings.
"It is beautiful," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Mother, do not cry." Draco forced a smile at his mother, trying to ignore the groaning of his bones. "From childhood to adulthood, I have relied entirely on my parents for support, never earning anything on my own. This is the first thing I have earned through my own efforts, and I want to give it to you. Do you like it?"
"I like it...I like it so much," Narcissa said in a trembling voice, repeating herself over and over. She clutched the box tightly in her hands, tears streaming down her face, staining the white sheets with dampness.
"All right, all right, Cissy. Do not worry. Someone will definitely pay the price for this." Lucius comforted her, patting her shoulder, his face clouded with worry.
He studied Draco for a moment, trying to force a strained, distorted smile onto his worried face. "Draco... I, I am proud of you, my son."
"How dare you! Lucius, you are still encouraging him?" Narcissa turned and glared at her husband, her beautiful, fair face clouded with gloom because of his incoherent tone.
But her son was overjoyed at the rare, undisguised praise from his father.
"Oh, of course, be careful. Do not worry your mother any more." Lucius gave a stiff smile, trying to sound light-hearted. "Next time, stay firmly on the flying broomstick and do not fall off, all right?"
Lucius's heart nearly stopped the moment he saw Draco fall.
His good-natured but foolish son almost fell to his death!
This time he just happened to be there, so he could still save the day; but what about next time? And the time after that?
He could not guarantee he would come to every match, nor could he guarantee he would cast the spell at every crucial moment.
"All right," Draco agreed to his father, his smile suddenly freezing. He stammered, "My Nimbus 2001—"
"This is not something you should worry about right now. Go to sleep," Lucius glanced at the battered, tailless flying broom lying on the bedside table, waved his hand, and clearly did not take the matter seriously. "I will take care of the flying broom."
Draco was finally relieved.
He smiled at his father and, under the influence of Madam Pomfrey's Dreamless Sleep Potion, drifted into a brief sleep accompanied by bone contractions.