Disclaimer: I don't own harry potter

HELP! I'm becoming addicted to one-shots!

Dedicated to Taylor

Don't Speak

He had been in St. Mungo's for five days now. Five days of intense pain, utter solitude, and liquid meals, plus loopy nurses staring at his privates. Five days of drifting in and out of consciousness, with nothing to do, and no one to talk to.

The worst thing about it were the wires, by far. They weren't normal Muggle ones, of course. They were magically enforced, and charmed to increase healing. They clasped his mouth completely shut, save for a one-inch gap, which the Healers slipped a straw in for his meals.

"You were very lucky," they told him. "You could have landed right on top of your head." They always smiled when they said that, which Draco found very creepy. In fact, he found everything about them creepy. Their plastic smiles, and ugly green robes just plain pissed him off.

He supposed he had been lucky with the fall. He could have landed on his back, or worse, his head, which might have killed him. Instead, he had landed right in the stands, on his arse, falling next to the Minister of Magic himself. No, it wasn't the fall that hurt him, it was that stupid Bludger, hit by that sodding Beater. They (meaning the incompetent referee, of course) had called it a clean hit, which showed how stupid they were. It was not clean! If it was clean, he would still have his jaw firmly intact, and would be most likely be spending money and wrecking havoc by now!

Dumb-arse ref, he thought to himself. He had to think to himself, because thanks to the wires, he couldn't speak without sounding like an idiot, and if there was one thing he liked less than not speaking, it was being an idiot.

He glanced longingly over at his bedside table, where a nice little hand mirror was laying. Mother had forbidden anyone from giving it to him, so he was now reduced to inching his fingers across the smooth, wooden tabletop, desperately trying to reach it. It had been six days since he had last seen himself, which was longer than any Malfoy had ever been without primping.

My hair must be an utter mess! He mused miserably. Raising a hand, he felt the bale of straw now residing on top of his head, and shuddered. He then felt his cheek, which was swollen slightly, then let his fingers drift across his face, trying to feel the things he couldn't see for himself.

A flash of brown caught his eye, and he quickly dropped his hand back onto his bed. A guest, hopefully.

It was a guest, of sorts.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"That's wonderful, Gilderoy, you're doing great!"

Hermione smiled encouragingly at her former professor, who was successfully doing a number of spells with a safety-charmed wand. It was all coming back to him quite rapidly now, he had mastered avis in a few short minutes, and was now working on expelliarmus.

A portly Healer with a large amount of freckles walked up to Hermione, beaming. Her name was Gunhilda Guthig, and she was the resident mediwitch of the fourth floor. Hermione idolized her obsessively, she being a Muggle-born and all.

"You've made great strides in helping Gilderoy today, Miss Granger," Gunhilda said, smiling gently at the blushing girl in front of her. "Same time tomorrow, I assume?"

"I wouldn't miss it!" Hermione exclaimed. "Bye Healer Guthig, Gilderoy!" She blew a kiss at the treacle-haired gent, who waved his hand goodbye in return.

Giving a nod to the witch at the desk, Hermione exited the Spell Damage ward, and headed down the stairs to the ground floor. She sighed happily. Her summer job at St. Mungo's was turning into the highlight of her holiday, especially working with a Healer as experienced as Mrs. Guthig. The hours she clocked in would reap benefits for her as soon as she graduated, and the experience she gained would last a lifetime. Even her parents approved, as she was trying out a profession very close to their own.

She said various farewells to the Healers when she got down to the ground floor, and was about to head out the door, when something caught her eye.

It was the floor guide next to the Welcome Witch. Hermione saw the darn thing almost every single day, but for some reason, today it seemed important.

ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS…………………………Ground Floor

Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom

crashes, etc.

She shook her head, and decided to check out that ward any ways. It wasn't her favourite one to work in, most cases were usually by the book, and remedied with some simple charms and potions. Pushing the door open, she headed down the hall, her lime-green uniform blending in with the rest of the crowd.

She spotted an open door that looked very inviting and gloomy. Most patients didn't get many visitors during the summer break, and the nice weather was enough to make some go mad. Deciding that she would only stay for a bit, she walked up to the door, and peeked in.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was Granger, doing good deeds by the looks of it. She was wearing the same nasty green robes as everyone else in this hell-hole, and she had a nametag clipped neatly to her pocket.

"Oh…..hi," she mumbled, sounding a bit disappointed. "You're in here."

Nice to see you too. Draco glared at her.

"I heard about what happened to you," she said a bit smugly. "A Bludger to the face, eh? At a Quidditch camp for rich brats? I bet your father loved that."

He didn't actually care.

She walked across his room, and sat down on the visitors stool in the corner. "Having fun?" she asked. He didn't dare shake his head, last time he even moved, his wires shifted, and he sat screaming (inwardly) in pain whilst the Healers fixed him up. Granger would no doubt know he couldn't actually make conversation with her, God forbid, wires or no wires. It simply wasn't done.

A one sided conversation, however, was all she seemed to want.

"I guess you might be wondering why I'm here," she started off. He rolled his eyes, and pulled at the sleeve of her ugly robes, hoping to get across the point that he did indeed know why she was there. He wasn't stupid after all!

She didn't seem to get it, and continued to ramble. "I'm volunteering here, because I wanted to see what it was like. I want to help people, which is something I guess you don't understand. It's something only the poor and kind get to know about."

Draco was getting peeved. Was this Granger's evil plan? To sit there and insult him while he was mute and immobile?

It seemed to be. "You must not get many chances to help people, since your family has, what is it again? 67 Million Galleons, or something like that?"

68.9 Million, to be exact.

"It's a great feeling. Like a warm, fuzzy cloud that settles in your stomach, and spreads over your entire body. Honestly, you should try it sometime, though it would require for you to do something for yourself, for a change."

He was genuinely hurt. He did things for people, didn't he? He tutored his fellow Slytherins in the Dark Arts, and sometimes he even helped a curious Ravenclaw, or two.

She stared into space for a few minutes, then suddenly hopped off the stool, and ran out the door.

"See you at school, Malfoy," she called back at him.

He wouldn't have to wait that long.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

I have just decided that this isn't a one shot, but I have no time to get rid of the one shot notice, nor do I have time to explain the dedication. Next time, perhaps? Read and review, please!