"Instead of moping, why don't you just go to the Manor and sort this out like an adult?"
"He doesn't want to date me. He made that pretty clear. What am I supposed to go there and ask for?"
"A romp in the hay, I'd imagine."
Harry glared at her. "It's not like that."
"Not with that attitude. Besides, he's just being stubborn. He can't help the fact that a sex god sent him into a gay panic."
"Since when am I considered a sex god?"
"Witch Weekly had a marvelous spread about you a few months ago," Luna chimed in from her spot on her favorite armchair. She was reading her Quibbler upside-down and only contributed occasionally to the conversation.
"Merlin, I just wanted to dance!" Harry exclaimed, running a hand through his matted hair.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "You were hoping to use that as foreplay before you invited him to the sack and you know it."
"I…!" Harry sighed as he realized she was right. "Okay, maybe that's what I wanted but I didn't realize that's what I wanted! I was really tipsy and everything happened really fast and –"
"Oh please," Ginny interrupted. "It sounded good in your head at the time. Anything sounds good when you've had four glasses of wine. I'd wrestle a werewolf if someone asked me to after four glasses of wine."
"Remus was a lovely professor," Luna muttered.
Ginny ignored her. "I'm just saying, Harry, you're not always the most observant fuck when it comes to feelings. Malfoy's got all these stupid pure-blood rules and regulations to live by. If he doesn't want to shirk them then he's not going to."
"I fucked it up by pushing him is what you mean."
"He's a prick, Harry. As far as I'm concerned, you should cut your losses and move on."
"Draco's not a prick," Luna argued.
Harry let his head fall back against the carpet from where he was sprawled in front of their furniture. It was Monday night and he hadn't gone a moment without thinking about his encounter with Malfoy. "It just sucks," he continued, "because I fucked it up. We were having such a good time before I asked him to dance."
"Draco isn't used to physical contact," Luna reminded him without moving her gaze from her paper. "While I'm sure he probably wanted to share that intimate moment with you, he knew that he shouldn't because of who he is. Ginny is right. You sent him into a gay panic, Harry."
"Aha!" Ginny shouted, pumping a fist into the air triumphantly. "Take that!"
Harry huffed and rolled over to face away from them.
Ginny poked his back with her foot. "You should still talk to him if it's bothering you that much."
"I guess…"
"Come on. If you're stubborn enough to not move on then the least you can do is send him a letter or something. Wasn't that what you guys were doing before your dates?"
"They weren't dates." Harry turned back to face her. "He was right, though. His entire family's history thrives on him finding someone to produce kids with. Biologically, that's not me." He ran a hand through his hair. "Even if I did write to him and we tried to salvage this…even if we did…date…and it worked out for a while, he would want kids and…I don't. We couldn't even adopt because I just don't want them."
Luna finally looked up over the top of her paper at him.
Ginny slid off the couch to lie down next to him. She tilted her body until her cheek was resting against his shoulder on the carpet. "For what it's worth," she told him, "I know you would make an amazing dad."
He sighed and rested his head against hers. It was a sensitive topic for him and she knew that. All of his closest friends knew it. "I know you believe that. But...I can't, Gin. Between me and my parents, the Potter family lineage is famous enough. I wouldn't want that for my kid. Imagine if he sucks at Quidditch," he tried to joke.
Ginny smirked. "That would definitely suck." She moved to lie on her side and consider him. "You know…you don't have to date him. Like I said, you could just shag it out a bit."
"Harry's not the one-night stand type of guy," Luna commented, returning her gaze to the paper. "Everyone knows that."
Ginny tsk-ed and rolled flat onto her back again. "He'd let William Moseley blow him in an alley."
"Ginny!" Harry cried.
The redhead chuckled as she tilted her head back to steal a kiss from Luna over the arms of the furniture. "I'm just saying, Harry, if you want to shag him then shag him. The…feelings and emotional garbage will sort itself out later, if you want."
"Or it will be an utter disaster," he muttered. "I shouldn't have come on so strong so soon after an attack either. The whole thing was a fucked up disaster on my part. I'm amazed he even made it that late in the day with me."
"Harry James Potter," Ginny announced in her best impression of Hermione, "you are the most wonderful wizard in this world and anyone who scores your fancy should consider themselves incredibly lucky!"
"Hermione doesn't sound anything like that," Luna frowned.
Ginny pouted at her.
"Have you heard anything from Ron?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
Ginny bit her lip as she shook her head. "No, not since before they left. But it's only been two days. Aurors have been known to be away for months on missions."
I don't think this is a normal mission, Harry thought to himself as he stared up at the ceiling. He missed having Ron and Hermione around. They would have helped talk him through the Malfoy Incident and help him figure out what to do.
XXXX
Draco was thankful that nobody bothered him about his party on Monday morning when he showed up to work. Even Quina, who had had the most delightful time, took one look at his expression and backed off from even mentioning it. Draco was able to make it to his office in peace and get to work. He had fallen behind on his current project and he had made up his mind to use his time wisely this week. Today there would be no thoughts of Harry Potter, lost opportunities, or broken hearts.
That mentality lasted until lunchtime when he met up with Hank and Quina in Hank's office and the radio was playing a song from last night. Stopping briefly in his tracks, Draco glared at the radio and wished he could perform wandless magic to make the damn thing explode.
"How's everyone doing?" Hank asked, unwrapping a massive sandwich and taking a mighty bite out of it. For how skinny the bloke was, Draco wasn't sure where he hid all of the food he consumed on an almost hourly basis. He wanted Hank's metabolism (and rumored lack of a refractory period).
"I had a date yesterday," Quina told them happily as Draco found his feet and moved to sit down beside her. "She works on the second level. Really vocal in the sack. I'm seeing her again next weekend."
"Louse," Hank teased around a mouthful of food. It was entirely hypocritical of him since he saw more sexual activity than anyone on the third level combined. "What about you, Draco? Any fun adventures?"
Fuck.
Draco's gaze darkened instinctively and Quina rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you're upset. Your party was amazing!"
Here we go.
"The Prophet didn't think so," Hank commented. "You pure-bloods are ruining society!" It was, of course, a joke, considering Hank adored them more than he cared to admit.
Rolling her eyes, Quina replied, "That's because the Prophet is a pile of shite." She had brought a small container of pasta and blew on it for a moment before digging in. Draco watched her entwine her fork in the noodles and was reminded of his not-date with Potter the previous evening. Frowning, he nearly missed her say, "Don't worry, Draco. Nobody believes that rubbish anyway."
XXXX
Apparently people did believe that rubbish because the main article in the Prophet continued to focus on the 'problem' of Voldemort's ex-followers being integrated into a society without war. Nearly every article that week focused on the message of not being able to trust ex-Death Eaters.
Draco ignored the glares and suspicious gazes each day he entered the Ministry for work and confined himself to his office. He thought that if he could stay out of the public eye then maybe he would be left alone for a while. It was amazing how people seemed to forget how the Minister of Magic was a pure-blood himself while they glared at Shacklebolt's employees.
Other than the upsetting articles, the week passed by in something of a sluggish blur. Each day, Draco showed up to work, ran himself ragged until he was too exhausted to move, and collapsed into bed at night without a single thought to spare for Potter and their situation. He didn't dream at night. He didn't try to compose an apology letter. He just focused on work. Some days he didn't eat, other days he had large meals with no consistency. On Wednesday he had an attack at home. On Thursday he was fine and worked himself to exhaustion once more. It became something of an unhealthy routine that Draco knew he needed to power through.
It's better this way, he told himself repeatedly. I was getting too close. I need to move on and find someone more in line with what's expected of me. The words became a mantra and when he found his mind lingering to thoughts of Potter, he repeated the mantra harshly to himself until he believed it.
But it hurt.
Merlin, did it hurt.
When he wasn't working and couldn't fall asleep immediately, he found things to do around the house to keep his mind and body active. He imported new furniture for the rooms that he hadn't had the time previously to renovate. He organized the Fine China by color and age. He burned the old dining room table and chairs that had once held the members of Voldemort's elite team of Death Eaters for secret meetings. He made a pile of old clothes that no longer fit him to be donated to the homeless. He organized his collection of books by subject, author, and date of publication. There were tasks around the Manor that had fallen to the wayside and Draco worked diligently to tend to those tasks with pride and determination.
At the behest of his mother, he sent reply letters to the eligible bachelorettes of pure-blood families that had inquired about his availability. In his letters to them he was formal, dignified, and poised. His mother reviewed each of the letters before they were sent.
"These are really…mature," she told him one night. "Where's the personality, Draco? I can't find any trace of the real you in these letters." But she sent them anyway and he didn't focus on it. So what if those letters didn't come close to capturing the 'real him'? So what if the only letters that had done that had once been addressed to Potter? It didn't matter. Draco needed to move on and start getting serious about finding a wife.
This week will be over and time will go on. The weeks will turn into months and soon I'll be over Potter.
Draco was fine.
He would be fine.
He was fine.
…..He would be fine.
XXXX
Dear Malfoy,
I'm sorry I asked you to dance.
I'm sorry I fucked it up.
Can we talk about this?
Harry sighed. He had drafted over a dozen letters to Malfoy to try and fix things but none of them seemed to sound right.
Dear Malfoy,
I'm attracted to you. And if you can get past the fact that I'm not a pure-blood and I don't want children, I would like to go on a proper date with you.
-Harry Potter
He looked at the letter for a long time before he crumpled it up and threw it in the garbage. It was Wednesday night and Malfoy still hadn't reached out to him.
Maybe I need to be the bigger person, Harry thought. He stared at the garbage can before stubbornly setting it on fire.
XXXX
Finally, Friday rolled around. Draco gave himself a pat on the back for making it through the week without writing to Potter. He hadn't caved. He hadn't reached out first. He hadn't made any attempt to fix their failed friendship. Draco had stayed true to his path of becoming a married pure-blood with children and the letters he had sent had paid off. He had a date on Saturday with a young lady who didn't have maggots in her teeth or an eye patch, so he figured it was something of a win. It was a start, if nothing else.
Draco made his way to his department in the Ministry like normal. He sat down at his desk and began rifling through the research materials he had left out the day before. It was almost eleven when David poked his head in.
"Hey, have you finished examining the Greck case?"
Draco held up the file for him to take back. "Three spells can be used to reverse the curse. Two of them are ancient but can be procured by anyone."
"Thanks, Draco."
When David didn't leave, the blond looked up. "Is there something else that you need?"
His coworker frowned. "It's just…you've seemed different this week. Don't get me wrong, your work has been perfect, but…I don't know. You know that you can always come to one of us if there's something bothering you. We're a team."
Draco managed a half-smile of gratitude. "Thanks, David. But it's nothing."
"It's not the articles that the Prophet's been writing, is it? Because they're shite."
"I'm fine, David."
His colleague looked at him for a long moment. "Okay…if you're sure." He waved to Draco before closing the door behind him and heading back to his own office.
Draco let out a sigh before he picked up a notebook.
There was more work that needed to get done.
XXXX
It was almost time to leave. Draco glanced at the clock and wished that he could work through the weekend. But maybe this date would be good for him. At least Elicia knew that they were going on a date. At least she knew of Draco's intentions and wouldn't be left guessing. She wouldn't be misled about what he wanted. Well…Draco figured she would be but it wasn't the same.
Guess I just mislead everyone.
Sighing, he figured he would check in with Hank and make sure there wasn't anything else that he could cram in work-wise before he left for the weekend. He didn't want to admit that he was looking for something to get him out of this date. He had chosen this and now he had to stick with it.
He was just about to open the door to his office when an explosion rang out down the hall. The blast shattered the glass walls around him and knocked him back. The back and side of his head hit the desk hard before he fell to the ground. He felt heat surge around him as fires from the explosion flared down the halls and through his office. The door came crashing down on top of him as things around him began catching on fire. Pinned by the heavy door, Draco couldn't move. His ears were ringing from the blast and he couldn't see past the wood. Blood was running down his forehead and it blinded his vision. His head was pounding. Another blast exploded, this time closer to his office. He could vaguely hear screaming and voices shouting but he couldn't make out any of the words. New flames were piling on top of the original ones causing destruction. He tried to drag his body out from under the door but it was no good. The weight was too heavy and he was in too much pain to move. Had he been able to think, he would have thought he was burning alive.
He would have wondered if this was how Crabbe felt.
XXXX
Harry was humming to himself and checking on the two stubborn succulents that wouldn't bloom when Luna and Ginny Apparated behind him in Grimmauld Place. Jumping slightly, Harry started to ask, "What –" but Ginny interrupted him.
"Where's your telly that works?"
Harry Apparated them from the lower level to the room where he had experienced his dinner with Malfoy. Realizing that he hadn't been in this room since that night, he frowned in recognition as Ginny quickly turned the machine on.
"What's going on?"
"There were two explosions in the Ministry," Luna told him somberly as the telly roared to life. Their eyes watched the screen as Ginny put on the news.
"…Unsure if this was a terrorist action," the dark-haired reporter was saying. "We know that two explosive devices were detonated inside of the Ministry of Magic about fifteen minutes ago. So far two people are confirmed dead and a dozen are injured. At this time we are unclear about the motive behind the attack. We are waiting to find out more information from Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt."
Behind the reporter, Harry could see throngs of people who had escaped the building. Many of them were bleeding or looking panicked as they searched for loved ones and coworkers among the survivors. A cleanup crew was emerging on the scene to put up shields against prying, Muggle eyes while members of the Ministry flocked to the streets. He thought he saw Shacklebolt among the chaos but the man disappeared into the crowd before he could get a good look.
"Dad's okay," Ginny told him without taking her eyes from the screen. "Percy, too. We haven't heard from Ron or Hermione, though."
"I don't see Draco out there," Harry whispered. The camera was moving back and forth to capture as many people as possible but he didn't see that familiar head of hair anywhere on the street.
Ginny took his hand. "They're bringing the injured to St. Mungo's for emergency treatment."
Harry didn't know what to say. He had a sneaking suspicion he was going to be visiting the hospital again very soon.
XXXX
Two hours later, they still hadn't learned much more from the reporters on the telly. Mrs. Weasley had called to let them know that Arthur and Percy were indeed safe and back at the Burrow. She had suggested that the three of them join her but Harry had declined the offer.
"Grimmauld is basically impenetrable," he had told her kindly. "If this was a targeted attack, then I'm safest here."
Two hours turned into three. When the reporter finally announced which floor of the Ministry the explosions had been detonated on, Harry Disapparated before he could even think twice.
XXXX
St. Mungo's hadn't changed much in the years since he had been there. Harry showed his ID to the receptionist and had to be properly identified by several high-class Aurors before he was allowed up to the right floor. He saw Narcissa Malfoy standing in the hallway and he ran to her.
"Mrs. Malfoy," he breathlessly greeted. His heart was hammering in his chest. "I saw that his level was the one that…is he alright?"
She glanced at the Aurors that were stationed in the hallway before lowering her voice and replying in a remarkably steady tone, "My son is stable but injured. He…" She took a moment to breathe. "The Minister said that this was a planned attack. He's caught the people responsible and they're being held for questioning. He's in session now with the Wizengamot."
Harry glanced around and wondered which room was Malfoy's. "What's he injured with?"
"It's not as serious as it could have been," she told him softly. "The Minister believes this attack was only botched because of a mislabeling with the post."
"You mean the target was –"
"Draco…yes."
Harry's head spun.
"My son was not the only target," she continued wistfully. She leaned in closer and he could see the redness of her eyes. "Draco's father…" She sighed and took another breath. "My dear Lucius has been poisoned. And the Manor was bombed."
"Poisoned? But isn't he in exile?"
She nodded and glanced again at the nearby Aurors. "The Minister suspects that there is a mole working in the Wizengamot who knew of Lucius's location and spread that knowledge to those who wish my family harm. Apparently, there is a vendetta against pure-bloods."
Considering the recent articles he had read about in the Prophet, Harry wasn't surprised. But he was surprised that someone had been ambitious enough to try and wipe out the Malfoy family in one shot. "Were you hurt?"
"No. The Manor was bombed while I was visiting the Fawleys. Elicia was supposed to have a date with Draco tomorrow and I was getting reacquainted with her parents."
Ignoring that tidbit of information for a later time, Harry asked, "Does he know about…well, any of it?"
She shook her head. "He has been unconscious since they brought him in. They scanned him and probed him and my darling son looked like a juvenile science experiment when I arrived." Her voice shook and she had to focus to level it out again. "It is a miracle they found him in time. I am told that two of his coworkers dragged his body out of there. They're not even pure-bloods! They…they didn't have to do that. They risked their lives for my son when they're...I…" She blotted at her cheeks with a handkerchief. Despite the slight dampness on her cheeks and the coloring of her eyes, she looked incredibly composed. Her hair was together and her robes were neat and ironed. It occurred to Harry that she was one steadfast woman. "I have been asked to remain here, in the careful watch of the Aurors, until I can be escorted to a safe haven for the duration of this mess. But I am worried about my son. I can't leave him, Harry."
He thought of how Mrs. Weasley would have taken down the entire Auror department by herself to get to any of her children if they were in Draco's spot. A mother's love outweighed any personal unsteadiness he currently held in regard to Draco. Meeting her eyes, he promised her, "I'll keep him safe."
"Thank you." In a moment rare of a Malfoy family member, Narcissa looked truly grateful.
XXXX
Narcissa watched Harry enter her son's room and wished that they could be free of their past. The Prophet's words had been horrid, painting Draco as some kind of false hero who only wanted to show repentance to gain favor. Narcissa knew her son. She knew that Draco had become something of a tortured soul who needed to prove himself as deserving of trust. It was terrible. He was already so wonderful and deserving. She had thought that maybe she had been able to convey that to him during their conversation in the dining room, but now she wasn't so sure.
"Mrs. Malfoy?"
She turned and saw an Auror approach. He was wearing the robes of the highest level of Auror-class. His black hair was buzzed and his chocolate eyes went briefly to the floor as he bowed to her out of respect.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Galen Morales," he told her, showing her his badge and credentials. He had a slight Welsh accent and his dark skin crinkled around his eyes. "I'm ready to escort you to your husband at the request of Kingsley Shacklebolt."
"Forgive me if I seem untrusting," she told him coolly, "but it is because I am."
"I understand, ma'am. I have been ordered to drink truth serum before you and tell you of your husband's situation. After that, I will bring you to him."
She relaxed her shoulders and brought herself to her full height. She had always been good at intimidating those younger than her, though she was nothing compared to Bellatrix. "I will summon a vial of truth serum to know that you have not tampered with it."
Galen bowed again.
She summoned a vial and held it out to him. "Drink it."
Nodding, he took the bottle and downed it quickly, waiting for her to ask her questions.
"Now," she began, keeping a scrutinous eye on him, "tell me of my husband's condition."
XXXX
The room had no windows, no telly, and no radio. The walls were an ugly mauve color. Machines surrounded two of the bed's sides, keeping track of Malfoy's vitals and heart rate. The bed itself was simple without any fancy drapes. Closing the door behind him, Harry stepped further into the room. Although the lights were dimmed, he could clearly make out the body on the bed. The sheets were pulled up to Malfoy's armpits with only his bandaged arms and gauze-wrapped forehead visible. Malfoy's hair had been cut short and a dark bruise covered his cheek.
The pure-blood's eyes were closed.
Moving to sit in the empty chair beside the bed, Harry let the thought, He's alive, repeat through his mind as the heart monitor beeped steadily in the background. While the noise had once annoyed him, he found it comforting in this moment. It reassured him that Malfoy truly was living and breathing.
For a long moment, Harry just stared at Malfoy's face, bruised and probably once-bloodied from the attack, taking in each and every feature from the blond's chapped lips to the neat wrapping job on his forehead.
He could have died.
"Merlin," he whispered.
Malfoy didn't stir.
Harry's eyes caught sight of a chart on the table beside him and he picked it up. From what he could make out, Malfoy had a few fractured ribs, some burn marks, and a possible concussion.
Thank fuck it's nothing fatal.
When he placed the chart down and looked again at Malfoy, he was startled to find the pure-blood's eyes open. Malfoy's blinks were slow and he didn't turn his head. Harry slowly stood up and hovered over Malfoy so that the blond could see him properly without moving his neck. Those grey eyes landed on him but they were unfocused.
"Hey," Harry whispered. His voice was rough with emotion and he tried to clear his throat.
Malfoy stared blankly back at him. The pure-blood's lips made a sound as they parted but he didn't say anything.
Harry held his breath. He wasn't sure if Malfoy was even coherent enough to understand anything he said.
Malfoy's vision suddenly blurred as he started to cry.
"Hey, hey, you're okay," Harry whispered to him soothingly. He reached out for a box of tissues on the table beside the chart and gently brushed Malfoy's cheek with the fabric. In this moment, what had happened on Sunday didn't matter. The only thing that mattered to Harry was that Malfoy was suffering. "You're okay, Malfoy."
The blond winced when Harry gently padded the bruise on his cheek.
The tears didn't stop.
"You're – you're okay," Harry repeated. Even though Malfoy was going to be fine, the earlier fear finally seeped in and became something tangible. Harry found his eyes filling with tears. He had managed to keep himself together at Grimmauld Place and in front of Mrs. Malfoy but now, seeing Malfoy cry, he couldn't put on a show any longer. He tried to blink the tears away. How would Malfoy believe him if he started crying? "You're okay. It's just – it's just a concussion and some fractured ribs and burns. You're going to be okay, Malfoy."
Malfoy's eyes closed but Harry watched him turn his left hand palm-up. Without hesitation, Harry slid his hand into Malfoy's and entwined their fingers together. The pain he had felt every day this past week when he hadn't received any word from Malfoy suddenly didn't matter as much as taking Malfoy's hand in his own. "You're going to be okay," he repeated softly to Malfoy as well as to himself. Harry continued to cry even as Malfoy drifted off into a deep sleep. The frustration at not reaching out to Malfoy sooner and having this happen was too much for him to deal with. He was angry at himself for waiting and he was angry at the people responsible for doing this and he was angry at Malfoy for not reaching out to him. After what felt like an hour, the anger melted into sorrow. His thumb was rubbing against Malfoy's. "I shouldn't have pushed you," he whispered to Malfoy's sleeping body, knowing that there wasn't a chance in hell the blond could hear or understand him. The words came tumbling from his lips. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I'm so fucking stubborn. I should have written to you. I – I shouldn't have waited."
Malfoy didn't respond.
XXXX
He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, watching over Malfoy as he slept, until a doctor came in to check on Malfoy. He was a tall man with strawberry-blond hair and a leather bracelet around his wrist that was covered in etchings of cats. His smile was kind and he paid no mind to Harry as the Chosen One quickly released Malfoy's hand out of embarrassment for Malfoy.
"Ah! Mr. Potter! Wonderful to finally meet you in person. I'm Doctor Anders. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Harry reached out and shook the man's hand. "You're treating Malfoy?"
"I'm not sure 'treating' is the right word since there's only so much we can do for fractured ribs and a concussion, but, yes, in a manner of speaking. I was responsible for healing the worst of his burn damage. He looked quite different when he first came in here, I can tell you that."
Harry's stomach tightened. "It was bad, then?"
"Oh, yes. Quite the miracle his friends dragged him out of there before he burned completely."
"What about them?"
"They were treated for minor injuries and then sent home to recover. A David-something and a Hank-something I think…? Very nice boys. Terribly concerned about young Draco here." The doctor began going through the motions of checking Malfoy's vitals and injuries. "Terrible about those lost to the explosions. We, as doctors, try to save everyone but…" He briefly sighed as he wrote a few things down on a clipboard. "It's a shame."
"Do you know anything more? How many are dead? Is Mrs. Malfoy still around?"
"Madame Malfoy has been escorted to her husband's location by a trusted Auror. She is safe. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the four members of the Ministry who lost their lives to this attack."
"Was it an inside job? It must have been. Does the Minister know anything?"
Dr. Anders smiled gently at Harry. "I'm sure he will be here to answer any and all of your questions as soon as he can. But the Wizengamot is still in session. That's all I know." He looked back at Malfoy. "Besides knowing that this young man will pull through."
Hearing a medical professional tell him that Malfoy was going to be okay meant the world to Harry and he suddenly smiled with relief. "Thank you, Doctor."
The man studied Harry for a moment. "I've given my staff explicit permission to allow you to stay for as long as you like past visiting hours. I said to them, 'If Aurors are expected to flock the halls of my hospital then Harry Potter can stay as long as he likes.' The board wasn't too happy with that but they can stuff it…pardon my French."
Harry was surprised. "Thank you. That's…that's very generous of you."
The doctor waved him off. "My daughter Marian's favorite professor at Hogwarts is a Mr. Neville Longbottom. She would consider it a personal offense if a friend of his was not allowed to stand by another friend in need." He adjusted his bracelet before giving Harry a final smile. "I must attend to my other patients but I'll be back in a few hours. Please do not hesitate to ring one of my nurses if you need anything."
After he had left, Harry squeezed Malfoy's hand reassuringly. He hoped the blond could feel it.
XXXX
Around midnight, Kreacher appeared with a bag full of hygiene products, snacks, and several changes of clothes for Harry. It took the house-elf over an hour to get through vetting by the Aurors. When he finally made it to Harry, he informed him that Ginny and Luna had gone to the Burrow to be with the Weasleys.
"Any word from Ron or Hermione?"
Kreacher shook his head. "I will let Master know when they contact him at Grimmauld Place."
Harry frowned, wondering why nobody had heard from his best friends.
XXXX
The weekend passed slowly. Harry stayed by Malfoy's side, making sure that the only people who entered his room were Dr. Anders, a few trusted nurses, and one or two Aurors who needed to report back to the Ministry. As far as he knew, by Sunday morning, the Wizengamot was still in session. The press hadn't been allowed anywhere near the hospital. Harry checked the paper but neither the Prophet nor the Quibbler had anything concrete to say about the attack except to announce the names of the deceased. No post was allowed to enter Malfoy's room. It didn't stop him from receiving a letter smuggled in by Kreacher.
Hey Harry,
We're all doing okay. Dad and Percy are fine. Mom's ready to storm the Ministry and choke out whoever let those bombs get into the building, but otherwise, we're all good.
Charlie, Bill, and Fleur are all home. Wait till you see Fleur. She's pregnant! It's crazy that I'm going to be an aunt!
Kreacher told us where you are. I'm glad he's okay. I know, I know, you'll say you don't believe that but you also didn't believe that I like anal so…
Let us know if you need anything. We are here for you.
(Still no word from the love birds.)
Much love,
Ginny
There was a heart next to her name and the scatterbrained letter made Harry smile. He was glad that they were all safe. The spot of good news about Fleur was wonderful and he looked up at Malfoy with a smile.
But the blond didn't open his eyes and ask Harry what he was grinning about. In fact, Malfoy hadn't so much as stirred since Harry had wiped away his tears. It was unnerving and Harry's smile fell as he gazed at the blond.
XXXX
Monday morning, Kingsley Shacklebolt showed up in Malfoy's room. He looked worn down and exhausted but held his head high.
"We've caught the people responsible," he told Harry immediately, "for the poisoning of Lucius Malfoy and the attacks on the Manor and the Ministry." He didn't wait for Harry to ask one of the dozen questions he had. "Matthias Scatterly. Three years ago he told reporters that it was criminal how the Malfoys weren't being sent to Azkaban for their crimes. He made several derogatory remarks about pure-blood employees and was accused of threatening the lives of two pure-bloods. Because we viewed him as a threat against our employees, he was sacked. Apparently, he had been planning this attack ever since he learned that Draco had become an employee of the Ministry."
"He knew of Lucius's location?'
Kingsley nodded. "Matthias was on the Wizengamot during the trials. He broke his nondisclosure agreement and shared the location of Lucius's whereabouts with several professionally-trained assassins. He orchestrated the attacks."
"How do you know?"
"Aurors Granger and Weasley brought him in. We had received word about a supply of explosive materials going missing at an airport and I put them on Matthias to follow him. Unfortunately, they weren't fast enough to prevent the loss of life at the Ministry. I thought that we had doubled our protections but I was wrong."
"How did he get the bombs inside?"
"Bribed our guards with money funneled out of Gringotts."
"Where is he now? What happens now?"
Kingsley sighed. "Well, the Wizengamot has ruled that Matthias will be jailed for the murder of four Ministry employees. He was pretty upset when he found out that Draco hadn't been injured but two half-bloods and a squib had been killed instead. We discovered that he was the mastermind behind the plan and all of his accomplices involved have been arrested as well. The whole thing is a fine mess, if you ask me."
"How did you find this out?"
The Minister frowned. "I'd rather not go into specifics. They can be a bit…dark."
"What about Mr. Malfoy?"
Kingsley's gaze darted to Malfoy on the bed. "Has he truly not awoken since they brought him here?"
"Only once."
The Minister frowned. "Matthias corrupted some of the Aurors that were stationed to guard Lucius Malfoy. That's how he was able to have the poison brought to the island undetected. Our doctors are doing everything they can. It is a slow-acting poison which gives us time to work. But…I am unsure of whether or not he will make it."
"There will be more attacks like this," Harry mumbled. "More people will start targeting pure-bloods directly. Even back then, Voldemort's followers were always more of a target than he was. The world needs a change."
"What do you intend on doing about it?"
Harry looked back at Malfoy's sleeping face. "I don't know. Can I do anything?"
Kingsley reached out and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think, in time, you will come to recognize what powers you have and lack when it comes to the public's opinion about events. But for right now, young Draco will need a safe place to go where he can recover in peace."
A part of Harry had expected the Minister to bring this up. He had spent a good portion of the weekend weighing the pros and cons. While he was probably the last person Malfoy wanted to see when he woke up, Harry's home was the safest place to be. He had already spent four days by Malfoy's side, anguishing in silence over past mistakes and lost opportunities. What would another few weeks of this hell be? "He can stay at Grimmauld Place. I have tons of extra rooms and it's safe and –"
Kingsley smiled. "I knew you would offer to house him." Damn you, Minister. "I hope you don't mind but I have brought some companions to help you relocate him from St. Mungo's to your home." He waved his hand and the door opened to reveal five house-elves, including Seelba and Kreacher.
"We are happy to help Master Malfoy in any way we can," Seelba announced with a low bow to Harry.
Harry felt relief upon seeing Seelba okay. While he hadn't paid much thought to the well-being of the Manor's house-elf inhabitants, he was glad to see them all in one piece. They weren't bloodied or bruised and looked perfectly normal to Harry.
Kingsley nodded. "You can Apparate directly from this room to make it easier to travel. The house-elves will assist magically to make sure that neither you nor Draco are injured in the journey. The faster you can get him to a more secure location, the faster St. Mungo's can breathe a sigh of relief. This whole thing doesn't sit right with them and the board members are terribly on edge. Hell-bent on making my life more difficult, they are."
"I'm not a doctor –" Harry started to say but Kingsley nodded again.
"Don't worry about that. We have people in mind who have been to Grimmauld Place before and are dependable. They'll cater to Draco's wounds – you just play host." With another wave of his arm, a woman appeared in the doorway behind the house-elves. She wore a white tunic and black trousers with the crest of the hospital emblazoned on her right breast pocket. Her chestnut hair was tied up in a bun and her crooked smile took up most of her face.
"Hi, Harry. It's been a while."
"Megan? Megan Jones?"
She laughed and maneuvered her way past the house-elves to give him a quick hug. "Been a while since our Hogwarts days, I know."
"I didn't know you became a doctor!"
"I'm a few months short of graduating but I've been granted special permission to practice without my full license. Someone has to make sure this tosser gets better." She was smiling and Harry returned the grin. He remembered her being in Hufflepuff and living with Hannah Abbott but, other than that, they hadn't had many interactions during their school days. She had always seemed alright, though.
"I'll let you two catch up," Kingsley told them. "There's still much paperwork to be completed and loose ends to tie up. Plus, I will need to make a formal statement about the attack to the press. I suspect the Prophet and Quibbler will both be sold out with tomorrow's edition." He sighed before nodding to each of his audience members in turn. "Stay safe. Let me know if you need anything." He Disapparated without another word and Megan turned to face Harry.
"Well! Let's get this pure-blood pansy to your place, shall we?"
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Narcissa blinked open her eyes and found herself inside a hospital that mirrored St. Mungo's. She knew it was not the same place as she followed Galen up a flight of stairs to her husband's room. The walls were a darker color and there were far more guards on duty than at St. Mungo's.
"I'll be waiting outside," Galen told her when they reached Lucius's door. He looked unsure for a moment before adding, "I promise I won't listen in."
Knowing he was still under the effects of the truth serum, Narcissa nodded to him in gratitude. Quickly, she opened the door to her husband's room and walked inside.
Her husband's pale face was the first thing her gaze landed on. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and his breathing was labored. A nurse stood in the corner of the room, keeping a close watch over him in case anything about his condition changed. When Narcissa walked in, the nurse bowed low to her.
"Good evening, Madame Malfoy. We have given him a sedative to help with the pain but the hemlock was strong. He was fed undiluted dragon's blood with it. We have people in the field trying to find the ingredients for a cure."
"What sort of ingredients are needed?" Narcissa asked as she moved to her husband's side. There was a chair provided and she gracefully sat down.
"According to his attacker, the blood of a Diricawl can help reverse this."
"They are terribly rare."
"Yes, ma'am."
Narcissa frowned. "How has he been?"
"He is not coherent, Madame Malfoy. He…well, he speaks of things that aren't real. Hallucination is a side effect of this type of poison. He believes things that aren't real to be so."
"What sorts of things?" She took her husband's hand in her own. Despite his body being covered in sweat, his hand was cold. Lifeless.
The nurse looked troubled. "He speaks of the rise of the Dark Lord from his grave."
Narcissa squeezed her husband's hand. She was quiet for a long moment. Sensing her distress, the nurse politely excused herself. "I'll be outside if you need anything. I'm Nurse Laura." Once she had left, Narcissa moved in closer to her husband.
"Lucius."
He didn't stir.
"Lucius, it's me, darling. It's your Narcissa."
Her husband's eyes opened but he wouldn't look at her. The sweat trickled down and wetted his collar. His breathing still was not steady.
"Lucius. Oh, it's been so long since I've seen you." She raised his hand to kiss the back of it. When he didn't direct his attention to her, she frowned again. "Lucius. It's me."
When he spoke, the words sent a surge of fear through her. "Draco must kill him. Draco must kill Potter."
Narcissa enclosed his hand in both of hers. "Darling, you are ill. You have been poisoned." Her gaze took in his wild hair, long enough to reach his waist, and the thick beard he had grown during his exile. He had always been so finicky about his appearance. Now, he looked like a stranger.
His eyes darted back and forth across the ceiling but he wouldn't turn to look at her. His voice was higher than normal. "Draco is the key. He must kill Potter to bring back our Dark Lord."
"Darling, it's me. It's your 'Cissa." She rubbed her thumbs against his hand. "You are not thinking clearly. This poison is affecting your mind. But I shall help you remember who you are." She kissed his hand again. "Do you remember when we danced in the courtyard? You were marvelous, darling." Her voice wavered. "Don't you remember?"
"Master must be brought back."
"Darling," Narcissa whispered. She leaned closer and pressed her lips to his hand again. She hoped that her touch and voice would be enough to make him coherent. "Darling, it's me. Narcissa."
Lucius's gaze was wild as he exclaimed, "He can be brought back, 'Cissa. The Dark Lord can be revived! I have seen it! He has shown it to me!"
He wasn't listening to her. There had been a time, some five years or so ago, when she had tried talking sense into him only to have him ignore her words. She half-wondered if she had been more forceful back then if Lucius would have eventually listened to her. No, she thought dreadfully, he wouldn't have. Tears prickled her eyes. Her husband was dying. Her son was wounded and her home was damaged.
"I thought, when I saw you again, we would be happy. You would come home from your sentence and we would be a family again." She lifted herself so that she was in his peripheral vision but even as his eyes took in her face, she knew that he wasn't seeing her. "We should have left when he grew strong," she whispered as the tears started to fall. "But now he is dead and our son suffers and you are…you are…" she sobbed against the skin of his hand. She had always believed that once the Dark Lord was dead, her family would be safe.
What a fool I was.
"Master will reward me and…he will reward our son," Lucius was saying. His voice grew strained from talking. It became raspy and reminded her of the Dark Lord's voice. "He will…give Draco power…and wealth to…take care of you. You will see, 'Cissa. He will cleanse this world of…those who aren't worthy."
"I remember," she whispered to him, though she doubted whether or not he could truly hear her. "I remember our dances. And the way you used to bring me flowers. And the way you looked when you first held our son. I remember enough for the both of us. Lucius, you must fight this. Your son needs you."
"The Dark Lord will rise again," Lucius insisted. His voice was growing weaker and his hands went limp in hers. "I have seen it, 'Cissa. I have seen our son…taking revenge."
"I am scared, love. I want him to be happy but how can he when he lives in a world that wishes him dead?"
Lucius ignored her. "Our son will kill Potter. He will be…victorious…in this!"
Narcissa shook her head. "I wanted you to find peace after the war. I wanted us to be a family again." The tears fell harder and she knew she was shaking. Her steady composure was slipping. "I wanted Draco to have his father home again."
"Draco must murder Potter. He must!"
Narcissa remembered the first time Lucius ever kissed her. She remembered the last time he had kissed her, before he had been exiled. "It will be alright, 'Cissa," he had promised her. "You will see."
But the mind of the man before her was muddled and he could not remember caressing her cheek or whispering promises to her under the light of the moon. The poison was taking effect and Narcissa feared it would not be long before her husband succumbed to it. His will was not as strong as it once had been.
"I'm strong enough for the both of us," she told him gently. "We can get through this. We will, my darling."
"Draco will…bring the Dark…Lord…back to this…world!"
"No, Lucius." Her voice broke. "He won't."
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Author's note: You can always find me at swankaliciouschekov on tumblr.
