Redemption.

A visitor

Draco's POV.

Draco woke up in the hospital the next morning, and Madam Pomfrey almost stripped him down to heal his bruises and possible traumas. She flinched when she saw his arm, seeing the obvious dark mark that stood on his skin. Draco ignored her, and she ignored it too.
He put his Quidditch knitted jumper back on, and the smell of Stiorra's perfume took over his nostrils and his senses. What's happening to me?
His body still felt sore for most of it, and he wasn't even paying attention to the shooting pain he felt in his skull. The fall must have been pretty incredible for his body to ache so much.
There was snow falling outside, and he was bummed that he had to sit here and look at it falling from the inside. He really wished he could have gone out and enjoy the cold. He even dreamed about making a tall snowman the night before.
However, he still felt like his heart was melting from the Gryffindor's girl's visit right after the game, or an hour after that or so. There was someone who visibly cared for him, and he did enjoy the feeling of being appreciated by someone for once.
Madam Pomfrey paced around the room, from a bed to another, from her desk to the back of the room.

"Excuse me," Draco asked her as she passed by, "could I have a piece of paper, a quill and some ink?"

"Of course, dear."

The nurse stormed out of the room and into her office, coming right back into the Hospital with a parchment and the rest of what he asked for.
He thanked her gratefully and wondered if Headmistress McGonagall had already sent a letter to his mother.
Still, he started writing down.

Dear Mother,

I'm sorry I didn't write before. I'm actually having a good time here in Hogwarts. I have good grades and my Professors seem to like me. Blaise is here, too, but he's always got somewhere to go.
Pansy Parkinson still bugs me. I know you say I shouldn't hate on people anymore, but I can't help it she's the worse. I'd rather befriend the Weasleys rather than spending a minute next to her.

There is this girl, here. Her name is Stiorra. She's something. She's a good friend like, a real friend. We've been working together in Potions, and we have a month long assignment to do together. We're already more than halfway through it, though. She is really nice, I think you would like her.

Anyways, we have had our first Quidditch game of the year -I'm team captain- and we didn't win. Harry Potter caught the snitch before I did. A bludger hit me full force and I fell off my broom. Could you believe it? Don't worry, I'm feeling a lot better, now. Madam Pomfrey did a good job. Not a single broken bone.

I am looking forward to seeing you over Christmas break, Mother.
I love you and miss you.

Yours truly,
Draco.

PS: Maybe we could meet in Hogsmeade sometime soon over coffee? I would love that.

Draco put the quill down and closed the bottle of ink. He read the letter over again, and felt proud he could finally share the things happening in his life without fearing his father reading about it and make him man up.
He folded up the piece of parchment and Madam Pomfrey brought him an envelope. He wrote his mother's name on the envelope and sealed it as the nurse took back the quill and ink.
He was eager to walk out of this room. He hated being in here. It reminded him too much of the bad things that happened during his sixth year and the day he almost died thanks to Potter. What a hero, Draco scoffed to himself.

The day went on, snow was still falling outside and Draco could barely see the landscape from the windows by then.
Madam Pomfrey made him get out of bed and walk around the room. But a shooting pain crossed his pelvis and down his back as he walked. She put him on bed rest for the day, and the day after that even, so Draco made her fetch a book from the library to keep his mind occupied.
The idea of asking Stiorra out was pondering in his mind, but he still didn't feel like this was the right time. And he still didn't feel like risking it all just for the sake of it. Who knew if she even wanted him this way? However, there was something different in her. He felt it when she came by the day before.
Draco shook this terrible idea off and Madam Pomfrey brought him the book he had asked for. A few chapters in Draco started to wonder when Stiorra would come by. The day was almost over and she still hadn't come. The more time passed by, the more he felt like she wouldn't show up.
He had already read half of it when Blaise crashed down in the chair by his bed.