Hermione

"What just happened?"

They'd watched as Ron lunged at Malfoy, and then paused, as though suspended in treacle, his eyes growing wide at something they couldn't see. He was shouting again now, and grabbing for Malfoy's arm.

"I think..." Harry frowned, "If they'd had wands I would've said Malfoy tried to use Legilimency on Ron, and Ron kicked him out and busted into his mind accidentally, like that time with Snape,"

"Malfoy's hardly likely to be able to do that though, surely? I thought you said it was Occlumency he was good at." Wandless Legilimency was impressive enough that she didn't want to believe it. She really should look into mind magics. And if she ever wanted to really get the hang of wandless magic, she needed to practice. These missions were just not helping...

"It's possible wandless. And it's not a big step from Occlumency to Legilimency. Risky if you have anything to hide, because the minute you try to read someone else's mind, you leave yours exposed. Like opening a door." Proudfoot was frowning at the spectral versions of Ron and Malfoy, who were struggling with Malfoy's arm. Ron had his wrist firmly gripped and was trying to undo the cufflink. Malfoy was attempting to pull his arm free by kicking and bracing his feet against Ron's stomach.

"Stop – wriggling - you – ferret-faced – git!" Ron's bellow filled the room, followed by the sharp sound of tearing fabric, then silence.

They all froze, drawn in by the sudden stillness and strange expressions, and the way Ron and Malfoy were staring at each other, defiant grey eyes locked with fierce blue ones. Ron broke the trance and ripped back the blue healer's patch covering part of Malfoy's arm.

Hermione flinched.

"Oh god... did he... did he do that to himself?"

The skin was raw and fetid. Blistered, peeling, striated with cross-hatched cut marks... and in the centre the Dark Mark stood out, undamaged by his efforts to erase it, almost hovering in and on the tortured flesh.

Ron shifted to expose the arm more thoroughly, as though trying to make sure they could see better.

"Are you getting this?" he demanded loudly of the room, "He needs a goddamn healer. Now. Get us out of here."

Malfoy renewed his efforts to escape Ron's grip.

"I don't want your pity!"

"You don't have it," said Ron grimly, staring down at him, "You've done some really fucking awful things Malfoy, and you're a slimy, spineless, shithead, but if you think I'm going to let you die of a nasty infection, you're damn wrong."

"But-"

"NO-ONE DIES IF I CAN HELP IT,"

Hermione, Harry, and Proudfoot exchanged looks.

"We need to-"

"Yup."

They disapparated as Ron hauled Malfoy up by the shirtfront and dragged him over to the door, to all appearances as though he was planning on blasting his way through with sheer brute force.

Ron

The crack of apparition, and the smell of her hit him at the same time, and his grip on Malfoy's shirtfront loosened.

Hermione had grabbed fistfuls of his jumper and was trying to drag him away from the door.

His heartbeat was in his head and everywhere, pulsing out of him in all directions.

He was so mad.

Or something.

He wasn't sure.

It was a hot, raw, horrible feeling, clear and crisp in its violence.

No-one dies if I can help it.

No-one.

Not even Malfoy.

"I'm going to side-along Ron, Harry, have you got-"

"Yup," Harry disapparated with a crack, Malfoy writhing in his arms.

The key to the holding cell scraped in the lock.

"My turn," Proudfoot planted herself in front of the door as it opened, wand ready. "See you back at the hotel,"

Hermione wrapped her arms around his middle, face pressed against his chest, and before he could tell her that he was too dangerous to hug, he felt the tug of apparition and they were gone.

Harry

Malfoy was swearing under his breath, and attempting to stick the healer's patch back down over the nasty weeping wound. Harry kept his wand pointed squarely at Malfoy, and glanced over to Hermione. She'd unshrunk the sofa, and the worried look she had been wearing all morning was more pronounced than ever. Harry wasn't sure he had the energy to feel worried.

"Ron, sit down,"

The KnowGlobe was casting a ghostly version of the hotel room into the hotel room, because he was still wearing the pendant that linked him to the globe. Everything had acquired an opalescent double-vision sheen where the projection overlapped the real thing.

Ron was steaming around the room, long legs taking him only a few steps in any direction before he had to turn around.

There was a wild and unfamiliar look in his eyes, strange and dangerous...

"Ron, sit down," Hermione's voice had gone shrill. Harry wondered, not for the first time that day, what on earth they were doing. A stupid plan, a stupid mishap, and now, eugh. Draco Malfoy.

"Fix his arm," Ron threw back, "I'm not done with him yet, do you hear me Malfoy? I'm not done with you!"

Malfoy made a grab for Harry's wand. Harry danced out of the way, and suggested that Malfoy behave himself if he didn't want to be on the receiving end of a full body-bind.

Malfoy cast him a look of loathing, and demanded to know who was going to replace his wand, his coat, his ruined shirt, and his missing cufflink.

The gall of him was unbelievable. Harry was on the verge of saying something cutting when Hermione intervened.

"Well, if Ron won't sit down, then you had better sit, Malfoy. We've got a field kit, and that will have to do to start with. Why haven't you seen a healer?"

Malfoy raised his thin blonde eyebrows at her, as though surprised that she could be so stupid.

Which was fair.

What was he supposed to do? Turn up at Mungo's waving his infected Dark Mark?

"I meant... in your... circle of... erm..."

He cast her cynical mocking look.

"My circle of homicidal acquaintances? Or did you mean Death Eaters specifically?"

But surely he knew someone who would've been able to help him...?

Or... did he really have no-one?

"Your mother-"

"Is none of your business,"

"Not true," Harry interjected, "Seeing as we're freelancing for the Auror department, anyone with Death Eater connections is very much our business. Literally. Episkey."

Malfoy squeaked with surprise, and curled a hand protectively over his newly mended nose.

Ron was still stalking round the room, like a giant ginger panther trapped in a cage. The images cast by the KnowGlobe shifted as he moved, aligning and misaligning with reality, as the field of the pendant changed with each step. Harry felt slightly queasy.

Hermione pulled the field kit out of her bag and tossed it over to him. He caught it one handed and jerked his head a Ron.

"Can you..?"

"Yes, I'll... yes,"

"Yeah,"

"I'd rather Granger," Malfoy put in, "At least I know she's competent."

"What gives you the impression you get a choice?"

Malfoy blinked at him.

"He looks mad," He pointed to Ron, "Tiny glimpse of my life and he's lost his marbles. She's clearly not safe."

There was a pause while they took in the deep disturbing irony of this statement.

Proudfoot apparated into the room with a quiet pop. Harry couldn't help but be impressed by how elegantly she appeared and disappeared.

"All sorted! Here," She passed Ron his wand, keeping Malfoy's tucked into her robes. She tossed his coat over the side of the sofa, "Hey, are you ok?"

"Just going for a walk," Hermione said, "We'll be in the park if you need us."

They vanished with the hefty crack! of double disapparition.