'Healer Weasley?'

Hermione looked up from Snape's scrolls, which were filling up half her office. The young healer looked very worried, so she got up immediately.

'What's happened?'

'It's Malfoy, Madam,' he said. 'He's saying he needs to leave or...' They spoke while they walked down the hall to Malfoy's room.

'Or?'

'Or get a… a tellyphone?'

'What?' She frowned and told the healer she would handle it. Hurrying to Draco's room, she knocked before entering. Malfoy was sitting up, but looked very tired. Scorpius was in the chair, reading silently. He looked up when Hermione entered, a sullen frown on his face.

'Malfoy, good morning,' she greeted. 'I'm told you need to call someone?'

'Yes, I need to contact my workplace to inform them I won't be coming in tomorrow. And I need someone to watch Scorpius-'

'I'm not leaving,' Scorpius whined.

'You can not stay in the hospital,' Draco said, his voice harder than Hermione had ever heard him with Scorpius. 'You have school tomorrow.'

'I'm not going!'

'It might be weeks before I'm better, you are going,' Draco informed him. 'Please, Healer Weasley, I need to either leave for a short time to make arrangements, or I need some sort of phone.'

'We have a waiting room where telephones work, you can call from there.'

'You do?' Draco blinked.

'It's only just been installed, though I don't think anyone has actually tested it. It took me three years of nagging so muggle parents wouldn't have to leave the hospital to make calls.'

'Then I will test it now,' Draco made to get up. Scorpius shot out of his chair, standing nervously to the side as Draco slowly got out of bed. He was wearing hospital pyjamas, so Hermione summoned a hospital dressing robe to go over, and some slippers. Scorpius followed them out with a pout.

As she led them to the waiting room, she simply had to ask.

'Where is it you work?'

Draco bit his lip, whether to keep from speaking or due to pain. He coughed slightly, and then mumbled. 'What was that?' Hermione felt bad for pressing. Perhaps Draco had some job he considered lowly. But why would he need it? He still had the Malfoy fortune as far as anyone knew.

'I work for the Canterbury Archaeological Trust,' he said more clearly.

'What?'

They had arrived at the waiting room and she could feel the magical dampening field as they entered.

'You...' Hermione blinked several times as she watched Draco go to the very old telephone placed on a table in the corner, with a chair next to it. He sat down and started dialing - or rotating, as it were. 'The Canterbury Archaeological Trust?'

'You heard correctly,' he said. Scorpius had crossed his arms, his pout now even worse. Draco ignored him.

'You work-' Hermione shook herself, feeling a tad silly. 'What is it you do for them?'

'Quite a lot, which is why I must make a few calls,' he said pointedly.

'Of course, I'll leave you to it.' She wondered how on earth Draco Malfoy ended up in such a high-level muggle occupation. Then again he might be the secretary for all she knew. It did not make sense, though. The Magical World had no tradition of archaeology. They had historians a plenty, though mostly were unfortunately as popular as Professor Binns. Family histories was the only really important field. She had to admit, she didn't know much about archaeology at all. As she had gotten older, she had often lamented how she simply did not have the time or energy to keep up with the muggle world. It made her feel very odd to have Draco Malfoy know more.

'Grang- Healer Weasley?' Malfoy called just as she was about to leave. 'I hate to ask, but I need someone to escort Scorpius to the outside to meet Mr. Keller. I'm sure he'll agree to come up and fetch him sometime this evening.'

'I'm working late, so I can do it,' Hermione said.

'Thank you.' She nodded and left him.

It was perhaps ten to fifteen minutes later, when she had almost forgotten about the calls at all, that she happened to be walking down the corridor past the waiting room. Scorpius was sitting outside, leaning up against the wall, reading. She was about to ask what was taking Draco so long when she heard a raised voice.

'You can't let them do this Richard,' Draco was saying. 'You have to get them to extend the date. I just need a little more time. I'm in the hospital for pete's sake!'

There was a long silence while Draco listened to the answer.

'I know that, I'm not saying that,' he said, sounding as if he was barely holding in his anger. 'I've saved your arse before, you owe me! If it wasn't for me there would be a shopping centre on the east side right now.' Hermione and Scorpius shared a look.

'He wants to stop them building,' he said quietly. 'Cause there's a magical site there, but they don't know that, so he has to trick them a bit.'

'A magical site?' Hermione frowned. She glanced inside the waiting room. Draco had the phone pressed hard to his ear while he massaged his forehead, head down.

'If you think I'm not going to call everyone I know, pull in every favour-' 'Yes, this is that important... yes, that's all I am asking! Well, you do that, and I'll do what I can-... Fine. Goodbye.' He hung up forcefully, then looked up.

'Sorry!' Hermione said. 'I heard you yelling and- I'm sorry.'

'It's fine,' Draco sighed. 'It's hopeless anyway. Bureaucracy is a two-edged sword. Impossible to get things done in a timely manner, yet unstoppable once the paperwork has been signed.' He gave a mirthless chuckle. 'In that we are exactly alike, muggle and wizards.'

'What is it you are trying to save?' She stepped tentatively into the room when Draco didn't tell her to sod off.

'It's an old druid site,' Draco said. 'It probably pre-dates Merlin.'

'You mean where they did their magic, like Stone Hedge?'

'Exactly, only nothing of consequence was ever built there, so when we started using wands and imbuing artefacts with magic, this place fell out of memory.'

'How many places like this are there?'

'No one knows,' Draco said. 'Most have probably been forgotten, but those that weren't are usually built upon, like Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, even the Ministry. Everywhere magical society gathers, you can bet your galleons there was once a druid site. But this is the first one, that I know of, that's been rediscovered. And these ignorant twats are about to grant building permission to a housing development. It'll be gone forever in less than a year.'

'But this is incredible,' Hermione said. 'Have you alerted the Ministry? Surely they could do something?'

'Half my job is reporting to the Ministry, feels like,' Draco said. He looked so tired suddenly, like he was greying at the edges before his time. 'I've sent them dozens of requests and rapports, but they don't care. Archaeology isn't something they're familiar with, or history for that matter, except family histories of course. Poor Professor Binns,' Draco smiled sadly, 'I feel sorry I never paid any attention to him.'

'This is awful,' Hermione said. 'I wish there was something I could do.'

'There isn't, but thanks for caring. You're the first,' he said. He winced, grasping his forearm.

'You need more pain potions,' Hermione said. 'I know you want to call in favours, but as your healer I can't in good conscience let you sit here and make calls all day. You need to come back to bed and rest.'

'Richard said he'd give it a go, so I'll come peacefully.' He started to rise, only to fall back down into the chair with a wince. Hermione hurried to his side and helped him stand. 'I feel like an old man,' he whispered. Scorpius hovered by the door, worry all over him, but Draco didn't have the strength to even pretend he could make it on his own. He fell asleep almost immediately.

'I should get back to work.' Hermione looked to Scorpius. 'We are all working round the clock to find a cure.'

'I know. Father said you're the smartest witch of your generation.' Hermione felt a blush at the overused compliment coming from Malfoy of all people. Hopefully, he had only said it to instil faith in Scorpius.

'I don't know about that, but I will do my very best.'

' I know - Mr. Keller said he'd be in the city at seven tonight.'

'Then we will meet him outside.'

'Please, I can't leave,' he looked pleadingly up at Hermione.

'I'm sorry, but if your father wants you to go, then I think you should respect his wishes, yes?'

'Yes, Ma'm.' He went and sat by the bed, holding Draco's hand. Hermione had to leave, going straight back to her office and burying herself in Snape's notes.

XXX

'I say we have a pattern,' Ron declared. 'If we are going to have any chance of saving Malfoy, we need to go with this.'

'Agreed,' Harry said, though he did not sound sure.

'All those old Death Eaters in Azkaban and not one confirmed case among first wave recruits. It has to mean something.'

'Yes, you're right. We need to focus on what changed between Snape's initiation and Malfoy's. I need to go talk to him again.' Harry rose, grabbing his robe from the hook. The Auror officers were full of people going about their own cases, but they all glanced up as Harry and Ron hurried down the main passageway between the desks. Some of them whispered, and Harry didn't need to hear the words to know what they were gossiping about. Why was The Boy Who Lived trying to save a bunch of Death Eaters?

Most days Harry could ignore them, but on others their ignorance cut deep. Ron made sure to stare down any who attempted to judge openly with their looks of disgust.

They heard commotion long before the lift had reached the Atrium. The doors opened to reveal a crowd filling half the Atrium centred around someone or thing near the statues. They were yelling angrily, pushing and jostling each other for a better look. Several Aurors were trying to get in to break it up, but they were reluctant to use their wands.

'What the bloody hell is going on?' Ron asked.

Harry drew his wand, giving it a grand wave and shot out a big red fireball. It shot up into the air, catching several people's attention. Once it reached the dome high above, it exploded like a firework. Everyone had his attention now, but several were now trying to run off. Harry put the wand to his throat and when he spoke his voice echoed round the chamber.

'Stop!' It worked like a freezing charm. Everyone turned their eyes to him. 'You lot, back off, let us through!' The people shuffled away until there was space enough for them to walk to the centre of the commotion.

What they found was a wizard on his knees, bent almost double in pain. His face was obscured by his long brown hair, but Harry recognised him all the same. He was Gilfoyle Juhlin, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. What he was not was a known Death Eater.

The people had cleared a circle of space around him, as if he held some disease they feared getting too close to.

Harry let Ron keep the people in check while he knelt by Gilfoyle.

'Mr. Undersecretary,' he said softly. He could see the man's shoulders rise and fall with deep breaths. He wondered if the crowd had hit him with any curses. 'Are you in pain?'

The man shuddered, took a deep breath, and slowly extended his arm. The Dark Mark was red and angry, and Harry could guess he had been in pain, and hiding it, for quite some time.

'We'll take you to St. Mungo's,' Harry said. 'Do you have any other injuries?'

The man raised his head just enough to meet Harry's eye through his hair. He was perhaps just under thirty years of age, with the sharp features many purebloods tended to have, but he had never seemed arrogant. He had always been a hard working type. A younger son, eager to prove himself. It wasn't until now Harry realised just how eager, and misguided. His eyes were haunted, dark and devoid of hope.

'This is my punishment,' he whispered, voice hoarse.

'No, this is just one last curse from Voldemort, but we are doing everything we can to help. We will stop this.'

'I deserve this.'

'No. No one deserves this. Please, come with me.'

Harry rose and reached out a hand. Gilfoyle hesitated. The crowd murmured.

'Death Eater scum!' someone yelled.

'Why are you helping them? We'll all be better off!'

'He's a lying bastard!' This comment got cheers of agreement. 'He should be arrested!'

'Who else is one?'

'What about the Minister? Did he know?'

'Let them all rot in Azkaban!'

'Shut it or we'll start arresting people for disturbing the peace and harassment,' Ron spat. 'Go on you lot, disperse! DIS-PERSE!' People finally started moving away.

Gilfoyle finally took Harry's hand, and they got him to St. Mungo's without incident, though their arrival created a lot of noise. People gossiping like mad, even a few healers following them, trying to confirm the diagnosis. Harry left Ron and Hermione to deal with Gilfoyle and told the mod to disperse, which they were professional enough to do quicker than the Ministry's employees.

He needed to see Draco. He knew he wasn't going to ask for the memory again so soon, but he just had to check up on him.

He knocked and heard Scorpius answer 'Come in.' Draco was sitting up in bed, pale as a ghost, but Harry thought he saw a smile of greeting. 'Potter,' he managed. Scorpius had been reading to him. 'We heard some commotion outside. Everything all right?'

'Not really,' Harry said. He came to stand at the foot of the bed. Draco's eyes were sunken, his forehead clammy and his hands were shaking. He would be incoherent soon, once the pain grew too strong for the potions to handle. 'Gilfoyle Juhlin, uh, he's the Undersecretary...'

'Yes, I am aware,' Draco cut in. 'I do keep abreast of wizarding politics. What about him?' Draco must have read something in Harry's eyes, for his own widened. 'He's not- Impossible!'

'I saw the Mark myself. He collapsed from the pain in the middle of the Atrium.'

'Dear Merlin,' Draco breathed. He stared off into space. 'I never knew.'

'No one did, which worries me.'

'If it worries you, no doubt it worries others far more. Does the Minister know?'

'I haven't spoken to him.'

Draco gave him a look like the ones he used to give him in school, the ones that spelled out "dunderhead" in no uncertain terms. Draco coughed. 'I suggest you brace yourself.'

Before Harry could ask what he meant, Scorpius spoke up about the time. Draco asked where Hermione was, but once they explained the issue Harry gladly volunteered to escort Scorpius to Mr. Keller. He also found himself volunteering to bring Scorpius for a visit after school tomorrow.

Draco's soft 'thank you' did not warm Harry as he had thought it would. It was full of acceptance, and defeat. Harry never did like anything that tasted of defeat.

As they walked together Scorpius was too silent for a ten year old. Harry was good with children, usually. He had a lot of experience with nieces and nephews, but this situation was beyond him.

Scorpius looked up at him when they reached the outside.

'Father told me how you saved everyone,' he said.

'I had a lot of help.'

'But you saved everyone, even people like my dad who made mistakes.'

'Yes, of course,' Harry said, kneeling down to look at the boy properly. 'Your father was put in a very unfair position when he was too young to understand the consequences. He didn't deserve the Mark then, and he doesn't deserve what's happening to him now. I'll do everything I can to save him, I promise.'

'I know. Dad said you're a goody Gryffindor. You have to win or else the universe doesn't work.' By the way Scorpius was smiling, Harry knew the boy was stronger than he looked, putting on a brave face.

'Did he, really? Well, Slytherins like your Father always have to be right, or nothing works properly, so I guess I'll just have to listen to him.'

'Good.' There was a honking noise and Scorpius recognised Mr. Keller's car.

XXX

Harry found Ron in the lobby once he got back from delivering Scopius to the muggle.

'Mate, we've got to go. The Minister wants to see you. He firecalled Hermione's office directly.'

'That doesn't sound good,' Harry said as they made their way to the floo. 'How is Gilfoyle?'

'Bad,' Ron said. 'Hermione says it's a miracle he kept functioning for as long as he did.' They floo'ed to the Ministry, and were greeted by gossip and suspicious glances. Around the entrance a crowd of reporters were gathered, but Harry was well experienced with them, and pushed through to the lifts quickly, ignoring all questions. They made their way to the floor of the Minister, which was filled with tense, uncertain people, as if they had all forgotten how to do their jobs.

They knocked on the Minister's door, and were invited in by a snappish 'Enter!'

Shacklebolt had a storm over his head, and several secretaries flew out of the office when the door opened.

'Potter, in, Weasley, leave us.' Ron wasted no time in backtracking out of the office, the traitor, Harry thought.

Shacklebolt stood tall and thunderous.

'Sit,' he said. Harry did as asked, and Shacklebolt made an effort to calm himself as he did the same. 'This is a disaster.'

'Undersecretary Juhlin wasn't even rumoured to have been in the war,' Harry recalled.

'I know, one of the reasons I appointed him,' Shacklebolt snapped. 'The press are having a field day. My opponents are calling for my resignation.'

'That's bullshit, no one knew, and besides, he hasn't even been charged with anything. Having the Mark is not, in itself, illegal.'

'I know that,' Shacklebolt said. 'They know that, and they do not care. Potter...' His face became, if possible, even more grim. 'How many Death Eaters do you have in St. Mungo's?'

'You'd have to ask Healer Weasley,' Harry said, frowning. 'Upwards of twenty, last I checked.' Shacklebolt sighed, shaking his head. 'Gilfoyle is not doing well, if you were wondering.'

'I worked with the man for five years,' Shacklebolt said. 'His betrayal-'

'Betrayal is a harsh word,' Harry said.

'He should have turned himself in at the end of the war!'

Harry ignored the outburst. 'What, exactly, is it you want me to do, Minister?'

'The Wizangamot wants me to do something about all of this.'

'Do something? You mean help them? I have three Aurors, and Hermione's got a handful of healers and nurses. If you want to do something, get help.'

'Harry, tell me honestly, do you think they can be helped?' Shacklebolt asked calmly. Harry felt uneasy, on the verge of feeling sick to his stomach.

'What do you mean?'

'If this is part of the Mark, then maybe there isn't anything we can do, except,' Shacklebolt shrugged his shoulders, 'make them comfortable.'

'You can not be serious.'

'Azkaban won't be releasing any more prisoners into St. Mungo's care. They can have their pain potions there.'

'Don't do this, Kingsley,' Harry begged. 'We can solve this.'

'Harry, you have to understand. People don't want Death Eaters taking resources-'

'I can't listen to this,' Harry rose.

'Auror Potter-'

'Minister, are you taking away my team?'

'No,' Shacklebolt sighed.

'Then let me get back to work saving these people.' Harry left with a storm of his own brewing. After the war, everything had seemed possible. Shacklebolt had come in and reshuffled the Ministry completely, flushing out the pro-purebloods and getting everything back on track. The trials had been hard on everyone, and while some mistakes were made, most of them were fair. Most of them Harry could live with, except Malfoy of course.

He felt the stares following him to the lifts. It was like the last decade hadn't happened. They were relieved, Harry realised. They were looking forward to the Death Eaters dying out, so that the war could die out with them.

When Harry reached his office, he sat down and just breathed, hoping he wouldn't need to empty his stomach.