Disclaimer: JK owns the world, I just plunder through it.


"Mr Malfoy, thank Merlin you're here."

"Well this is my study Healer Frost, I'd be rather disturbed if someone else were here..."

If the young healer had had his wits about him he might just have noticed the dry humor that laced around Lucius' words. As it was he didn't, and hadn't.

"You look rather flustered Frost. Do you you care to explain why you've barged into my office? Without a prior appointment? On a Sunday evening?"

"I'm deeply sorry for the intrusion Mr Malfoy, but it couldn't wait until tomorrow morning, it's about Draco," the healer blurted.

Lucius raised an eyebrow in a look of expectation that achieved nothing.

"Well spit it out man," he prodded.

"I'm changing my recommendation Sir, I don't think Pinewood is the best place for Draco right now. I think he should stay here."

Lucius Malfoy sat up straight and narrowed his eyebrows in thought.

"I assume you have a reason for this change of heart Mr Frost?"

The healer nodded to his feet.

"Care to share it with me?"

"I can't Sir."

Lucius detected the inward struggle in the man's tone. "Sit," he commanded quietly, indicating the chair opposite him. He considered his guest for a long moment. As he stared into the healers eyes he saw a young witch reflected back to him.

She was hunched low over a glazed melamine table.

"I know Saturdays are tough Jill but you look like you've been toe to toe with a troll."

"I've been assigned to the burning man all day,"

"Ah..."

The witch glanced around nervously, "I heard he- he possessed you?"

"Yesterday. Not long after they brought him in."

The witch looked both dazed and terrified.

"It was horrible," she whispered to herself, looking up at him she added "he was horrible. His eyes are like slits filled with blood. His skin's turned from charcoal to," she hesitated, "well, its like... scales... grey-green scales..." she finished in disbelief.

"Has the burning stopped yet?"

"No, it comes and goes in fits. He seems to be getting stronger. At least he doesn't scream anymore..."

Lucius pulled himself out of his guest's thoughts but continued to stare at him.

"That patient," he ventured slowly, "is he still in the hospital?"

Healer Frost looked down at his hands.

"The ministry have commissioned an order of silence on that matter Mr Malfoy, I could loose my job just for being here" he said in a strained tone.

"They believe that Voldemort has returned once more," it wasn't a question. Lucius didn't need the answer confirmed to know he was right. He stood up suddenly and began to pace the hardwood floor, arms wrapped around him, steeling against the news.

"Return to St Mungos and cancel tomorrow morning's appointment Frost." he said as he gestured to the fireplace distractedly, without glancing at him or it.

It took a few minutes to gather himself, to gather his instincts into some sort of plan. He'd need to explain to Draco that he'd be staying at home after all, but without filling his head with nightmares of Voldemort and everything that notion would dredge up for his son. He'd need to protect the house, secure the floo systems, set additional wards, instruct the house elves.

He made his way through the house toward his son's room. Up the 4 flights of stairs, along the winding corridors, past at least 27 somber portraits of assorted dead relatives. Upon his arrival he tapped politely on the door and waited for a response. When this was not forthcoming he knocked again, with greater insistence.

"Draco, I must speak with you, may I come in?" Nothing.

"Draco, I'm going to come in now."

He pushed the door open. The room was dark as usual. Draco insisted on keeping light to a bare minimum whenever possible, and aside from sunlight - which Lucius had pressed upon him would be hard pushed to avoid, particularly once he'd had the curtains removed in a fit of frustration - would only permit a few scattered candles to light the space.

As he approached the bed he observed the covers were unkempt. Assuming his son was twisted beneath them in response to some unnamed demon who'd already crawled back into the depths of his mind he lifted a corner of the bedspread, softly whispering "Draco?"

But he found his perceptions hollow, the bed was empty. He crossed the room to the bathroom, the door was open slightly, no sound escaped. As he entered he realized with upward spirals of panic that Draco wasn't in there either. With a flick of his wand he brought adequate light to the suite of rooms and blinked for a few moments, adjusting. He snapped from cupboard to chest to wash basket, flinging and up-ending. He ripped the bedspread clear of the bed; Nothing.

Blind fear had already worked its way through most of his system by the time he called the house elves.


"So how are things at home?"

"You don't want to ask me that question Tonks,"

"That bad, huh?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," grumbled Ron.

"Look, I'm worried about you, is there any-"

Before she could finish a small brown bird darted between them and tapped the desk in from of Ron insistently.

"Saved by the owl," he grinned, taking the roll from the bird's leg and unfolding it carefully.

"Actually it's a falcon," Tonks retorted, just as she noticed the color drain from her colleagues face in a very uncharacteristic fashion. "Are you alright?"

"It's Draco, he's missing."


So I'm really stuck for feedback actually, I'm not sure if I'm taking you all on an interesting ride or a rather mundane one... I've taken 2 years away from this story and just recently started writing it again... Maybe I've lost the knack?