Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I would be have a lot of fun this summer. I don't own Harry Potter so I'm doing pretty much nothing.

Sorry, I've no time to answer reviews here because I've got to pick a friend up and this week I actually want to make my deadline for this chapter.

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It was night.

This night was more of what Draco was used to because he found it difficult to sleep. He wondered if it was because he was finally recovered from his ordeal or if it was simply because he had a lot to think about and his mind refused to quiet.

He was unable to refrain from glancing over at Ron Weasley every now and then, to reassure himself that the boy was still alive. After today's revelations, well, Draco didn't want Ron to die, not when he owed the Gryffindor for saving Laney.

He sighed when sleep remained elusive still and then sat up in bed, wondering if Pomfrey would notice if he turned on the bedside light to read. If she did, she would no doubt come out and give him a sleeping draught. He kicked off his blankets and tried to find a comfortable position, but it turned him back to Weasley. There was a light on over the boy's bed, and the yellow tinge made the red-head look even sicker.

Draco sat up, swinging his legs over the bed and putting his feet on the cold floor. He slowly got up, testing his weight on his ankle, but besides emitting a dull ache, it seemed fine. He crossed over to Ron's bed, feeling as if he should at least say something before the boy slipped away entirely, but standing by the bedside just made him feel like an executioner.

He turned away, but his eyes caught sight of the diagnostic clipboard beside the tray full of potions. He picked it up, and flipped back the cover page, glancing down the list of symptoms and failed cures.

The witness, McGonagall, said that he had been hit by a reddish-purple light which had curved as it was sent so that struck him straight in the heart. It was the Sanguis Curse, which self-targeted the heart where the dark magic took hold. The curse spread through the blood, which then carried the dark magic to the organs and other body tissue, slowly shutting the entire body down. It was like a magical bacteria. The Healers had tried several infusions of Galway's Potion, and when that didn't work, the more potent Hart's stimulant along with a powerful wakening spell, in hopes to jump start his system. They had tried that a few times, but again, nothing.

Now the barrier was up. Sometimes, when the environment was clean enough, the body could fight the bacteria itself, drawing from the pure magic field, but it was apparent, in Ron's case, that he couldn't even begin to do so.

Draco frowned, re-checking the chart. That wasn't right. The only way Ron would be completely unaffected by the clean room was if he was too far gone, which meant he should have died already, within the first half hour of the field in fact, give or take three minutes. No, something was very wrong here.

Draco sat in the bedside chair because his feet were getting cold and checked the rest of Ron's chart. There were a few other pages that detailed separate injuries. Ron had suffered from a slight concussion and a few mild bruises. The last page detailed slight nerve damage due to the Cruciatus curse, and he had been given a regenerative potion.

Draco stared at that last bit, knowing that this was important, but not knowing exactly how right now. He closed his eyes and called up the chapter on the Cruciatus that he had read in the Medical Significance of Dark Curses. He had read it several years ago, but he could see the pages in his head. He saw the paragraph he needed now and honed in on the sentence. Applied on children and teenagers, this curse can cause swelling in the blood, inflaming the cells, lasting for several days if untreated.

Draco's eyes snapped open. That was it.

Ron wasn't hit by the Sanguis Curse; he had been hit by the Aeris Curse, one which was also a reddish-purple color. This dark magic 'virus' latched onto the blood cells, rendering them incapable of carrying oxygen by slowly draining the cells and finally taking over them completely. A hit to the leg or arm may not be fatal, because it couldn't spread as quickly and there was more time to get to the Healer, but a direct hit to the heart or lungs, a large, central area for blood, death could occur in a little over a day.

However, Ron had been hit by the Cruciatus which had been known to inflame the blood in teenagers and children. That side effect would linger in the blood and would no doubt interfere with the Aeris curse, making it harder to drain the blood cells. That was why Ron's organs were slowly shutting down, not due to a virus attacking them, but because now the Aeris Curse was finally taking over having won the battle with the swollen blood cells.

There were two very different treatments for each curse. A blood replenishing potion would only cause the Sanguis Curse to spread faster and farther while it was vital for a person under the Aeris Curse to have a constant supply of fresh blood along with several infusions of a blood disinfectant over the course of twenty-four hours. Of course with Ron's condition, it was just best to do a complete blood transfusion.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

Draco looked up to see Pomfrey bustling over to him, face set in a disproving grimace.

"Curing Weasley here," said Draco. "You need to start a complete blood transfusion sometime in the next hour or so if you want him to live."

"What?"

Draco handed her the clipboard. "He was misdiagnosed. The Aeris Curse is also the same color. My suspicion is that the Cruciatus he endured caused his blood to inflame which held off the curse for so long, but now it's taking hold of him. He's dying not because of a magical bacteria but because his body doesn't have enough oxygen."

Pomfrey took the clipboard from him. "Minerva saw the curse curve to hit his heart. Only the Sanguis does that."

"It is possible to throw a curse on a curved projectery much like it's possible to throw a ball on such a course. Chasers do it all the time in Quidditch. Hitting Weasley in the heart was just a coincidence. If you test his blood, no doubt you'll find that he is oxygen deprived, and has been for a while."

Pomfrey studied him. "It makes sense," she allowed. "But a team of Healers from St. Mungo's diagnosed him."

"They've been wrong before. Besides, the Sanguis curse is hard to cast. I don't know of many Death Eaters who even know of it, much less practice it. Aeris is easier, more common. He needs a blood transfusion."

"A complete blood transfusion is an extremely risky procedure."

"You already have the clean room set up."

"I'll have to tell Arthur and Molly before I start-,"

"No."

"No?"

"Don't get their hopes up. Legally, you don't have to inform them if the situation is critical enough. When they come in tomorrow, just tell them that you're trying something new."

"If I start the blood transfusion, they won't be able to come in. The risk of infection is too high."

"Even better."

"They won't be able to say good-bye if it doesn't work."

"If it doesn't work, there'll be enough time to bring them in."

"You just don't want them to know that it was your idea."

"Of course not. I could kill him if I'm wrong."

"I'm the Healer."

"But I convinced you."

Pomfrey hesitated. "I'll run the diagnostic on his oxygen levels. If you're right, I'll start the transfusion. Right now thought, you're going to go back to bed before you catch cold and if you've even strained your ankle, I'm going to keep you here for another two days."

Draco nodded and then crawled back into bed. Pomfrey closed his curtains and he stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the instruments. He was sure he was right; he just didn't know if he wasn't too late. He turned over and tried to get comfortable. He drifted off a few hours later.

Draco was woken in the morning because Pomfrey wanted to check his ankle. It was mostly healed, and she even allowed him to walk around the room for a little while before breakfast. He went straight to Weasley's bed, already noting that the boy was breathing easier and there was more color in his face.

"What's the prognosis?" he asked.

"You were right. His blood oxygen levels were severely depleted. As long as the procedure goes smoothly, I expect a full recovery. He'll wake up in a day or so."

Draco raised an eyebrow, not expecting that. Pomfrey smiled.

"He wasn't as bad as we thought. Well, that is, we thought the Sanguis was bad, but the actual Aeris hadn't run too far. You caught it in plenty of time."

Draco nodded and then smiled when the nurse looked away. He felt…relieved.

He was almost content to stay in the infirmary bed all day, at least, he was until after breakfast when Pomfrey pulled the bandages off his left arm and they could see how well it had healed.

Draco didn't exactly know what he had been expecting, but the wound still looked ugly. The swelling had faded, as had most of the discoloration but a few of the bruises still remained. The wound itself was healing nicely, the flesh closing together so that there was no longer a hole through his arm, but it was still ugly. The dark red scab ran in a jagged line on both sides of his arm. It would have been a simple cut clean through, but the Dark Lord had jerked his arm twice, and that had made the wound contoured in a way that looked incredibly serpentine. It could easily be a snake slithering towards his wrist.

Pomfrey apparently came to that conclusion as well because she looked up at him.

"I suppose it's a good thing you're in Slytherin," she said, smiling slightly.

Draco nodded roughly, but in truth, he didn't look at it so innocently. He had denied the Dark Lord and refused the Dark Mark. For all of that, for all of his planning and scheming and choosing, for all of the time spent changing his mind and talking with Bill, and he still had half the Dark Mark. The only thing missing was the skull. It wasn't fair.

He had a sudden urge to rant to Bill, who would say something comforting, or tell him it was merely coincidence, but then he remembered that Bill wouldn't even be coming in today because of the blood transfusion. They couldn't risk a contaminant in the Weasley's transfer.

He also reminded himself that Bill did have a brother who wasn't cured yet, and the complete blood transfusion wasn't exactly the safest of medical procedures. It wouldn't be fair to mention something so trivial and then expect sympathy. And besides, he didn't want sympathy. He hated it. He just…wanted to be able to speak with Bill, or even have Sam or Laney visit him to get his mind off of it, but they were in the States by now.

He drew his thoughts back to the present when Pomfrey finished cleaning his arm but then made no move to rebandage it.

"I just put some disinfectant and anti-bruise cream on it, but it needs to stay unwrapped for a day or so," said Pomfrey, and then she gathered her potions and went to put them away.

Draco clenched his jaw at that. Was he supposed to look at his arm for the entire day then? He was suddenly grateful that no one else was going to be allowed in the room. He would hate for anyone else to see it besides him.

He reached for a book, and invariably his eyes were drawn to the dark red scabs and fading blue bruises on his pale arm. He forced himself not to think about it but every time he turned a page, and every time he lifted the fork to his mouth when eating lunch, he focused on what was going to be a very serious scar.

The afternoon dragged by. Although the barrier was up, he could sometimes hear the Weasley's outside he infirmary doors. Pomfrey had sent them a letter through the Floo, saying that they would not be able to visit due to a new procedure she was trying on Ron, but they had still gathered to wait outside the doors anyway. Sometimes their voices would get loud, but usually it was when one of them was exclaiming 'Fred!' or 'George!' or both at the same time.

Towards evening Pomfrey tested Ron's blood again, and smiled.

"Oxygen count is basically normal," she told Draco. "We'll give him another replenishing potion along with the disinfectant, and perhaps another dose of both in the night, and then he should be waking up sometime afterwards. I'll have to keep him here a few days for observation, but he'll be fine. You saved his life."

"It just means we're even," said Draco.

After giving Ron the two potions, Pomfrey sent another letter through the Floo to the Headmaster's office where Dumbledore could relay the news that Ron appeared to be improving and, if everything continued going so well, he would make a full recovery.

Draco and Pomfrey knew the exact moment the Weasley's received the news because there was an explosion of laughter, cheers, and battle cries outside the infirmary doors. Draco assumed the latter were from the Weasley twins.

He was pleased that Ron would survive, but the ache in his arm kept him from being content. The knowledge that Laney and Sam had left was hard to handle as well, and for the first time in a year, he felt very much alone.

He was glad when night fell and he could stare into the dark and not see the scar on his arm, but for some reason his equations and theories weren't as distracting as they once were. He tossed and turned for a while until Pomfrey handed him a sleeping draught. He took it without complaint.

He would have slept longer, because when he did wake up, even though it was morning, he was extremely groggy, meaning that he hadn't quite slept off all of the potion, but someone was coughing and they wouldn't stop.

Draco scowled and sat up, pulling his curtains back to see Ron Weasley coughing as he tried to sit up in bed. Draco got up and crossed the floor between them. He picked up a purple potion and poured out a capful, handing it to Ron.

Ron stared at it in askance and Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm a genius, remember? It's not going to kill you."

Ron took the potion and downed it, grimacing at the taste but his coughs subsided and he stared at the infirmary for a bit before turning to Draco.

"You escaped," he said.

"Yeah," said Draco.

"How long was I out?"

"A week or so."

"Oh."

Ron pushed himself up a bit before turning to Draco again.

"How's your…," he trailed off when he spotted Draco's left arm, the damage speaking for itself. "It looks like a snake," he said.

"Yes, thank you for that."

Ron frowned. "You're a Slytherin. Shouldn't that make you happy?"

"Oh yes, completely ecstatic that the Dark Lord ran a knife through my arm just so I could have a scar," said Draco scathingly.

"That's not what I meant," said Ron. "I meant, well, at least it's a snake, right?"

"Yeah, and all I need now is a skull tattoo to go with it."

Ron's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh."

"Yeah. So how exactly did you think it could be worse?"

"Well," said Ron slowly, as if he was afraid of offending him, "a lightning bolt would be worse, right?"

Draco blinked, and then he snorted. "You may have a point," he conceded.

Ron grinned and then frowned. "Where is everyone?"

"You're awake!" Pomfrey hurried over to Ron's bedside. "How are you feeling, dear?"

"Alright, I guess," said Ron.

"I gave him a cough suppressor," said Draco.

"Were you coughing?" asked Pomfrey.

"Uh, yeah," said Ron. "It's really dry in here."

"That's the magical barrier," said Pomfrey. "We had to keep all the contaminants out while we gave you a complete blood transfusion."

"Oh," said Ron, clearly not knowing what it entailed but finding that it sound rather impressive.

"Your parents are downstairs eating right now with the rest of your family. They couldn't come in because of the field but as soon as I release Draco, he can go get them for you."

"I'm leaving?" asked Draco, finding that the news was quite exciting actually.

"You have some clothes by your bed, so as soon as I wrap your arm you can change and I'll take down the barrier. Let's see how your arm is doing." Pomfrey examined his arm, before nodding decisively. "It's healing nicely, but you'll have a bad scar. I'm afraid there's not a lot that cosmetics can do with this though. The burn is just too severe."

Draco nodded, already having suspected that and then Pomfrey rewrapped his arm in white gauze. Draco retreated behind the curtain to change, and once he had pulled on the school-issued black trousers and white button-up that was most likely taken from his room by the house elves, Pomfrey let him leave. He first took the books Bill had given him to his room and then headed down to the Great Hall.

He pushed open the door and entered unnoticed by the large red-haired family that was seated around the table. Harry and Hermione were there as well, neatly incorporated in the conversation and laughter. Said conversation and laughter stopped when Draco approached and they finally noticed him.

Every head turned in his direction and he found it somewhat unnerving, but he approached the Weasley patriarch, as his mannered upbringing demanded, and he gave a nod.

"Mr. Weasley, Madame Pomfrey sent me to inform you that your son has woken up and that he is able to receive visitors at this time."

"Thank you," said Arthur, even as the entire table jumped to their feet and ran for the door.

Draco nodded again and stepped back to allow the family to rush by. Bill ran over to him before darting out the door though.

"You're released?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Bill smiled. "Stick around. We'll have to catch up. I'm gonna run now though."

"Go," said Draco.

Bill grinned and ran to catch up with the rest of his family. Draco raised an eyebrow at the half-full plates left lying on the table and then left as well, but walking up to his dormitory which held all of his belongings. He needed to pack so that he could leave this place.

He entered the Common Room and trudged up the stairs into his room. He was not expecting to see the large Ministry owl sitting on his desk.

He crossed to the desk, taking the letter and immediately the owl left. Draco slowly fingered the smooth cream parchment, already knowing what the letter was going to say before he flipped it open and read the return address, The Bureau of Legal Affairs, subcategory Wills, Testaments, and Family Repute.

He sat heavily in his armchair and opened the letter, reading the message with a detached calm.

To Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy,

As ordered by the ranking authority in your family, Lucius Abraxas, you are no longer to be acknowledged as a member of the Malfoy family and are hereby renounced both legally and economically. You have legal right to withhold the name Malfoy as your own, but are to claim no connection with the latter family and corporations. The Bureau of Heritage and History has been informed of your disownment and has thus recorded it in the genealogies.

Lucius Abraxas has informed us that you are a bearer of the Malfoy signum. Such privilege is hereby stripped from your possession and you are to report to the Bureau of Legal Affairs, subcategory Wills, Testaments, and Family Repute for the proceeding which will relinquish you of such mark on December the Seventh at one in the afternoon.

If this date or time causes any inconvenience to you, please contact the Bureau as soon as possible for rescheduling.

Sincerely,

Edward Thurston

Draco dropped the letter onto the floor and sat back in his chair. His sister-in-law and niece had left, he now bore a scar from Lord Voldemort, more people than he was comfortable with knew that he was a genius, and now his father was legally disowning him. He felt numb.

Draco got up and pulled off his shirt, turning around and straining to see the signum on his back, knowing that in a few days the blood-red ink that depicted the two rowan trees framing the snake wrapped around a sword would be turned coal black, and while now the branches on the trees swayed slightly and although the snake coiled and uncoiled itself around the sword, in a few days, they would fall still. The mark would not just change colors and freeze though; the signum would be slashed through, forever showing the world that he was no longer of the Malfoy family.

He pulled his shirt back on and then packed his trunk for the Christmas break. He knew the right spells and so it only took him a few moments to neatly fold his belongings into his trunk. The school Floo was still down, otherwise he would have sent the trunk directly to his house. As it was, he shrunk his trunk to a ring-box size and pocketed it.

He checked the room over once, just to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything he might need, but he usually didn't. It was one of the perks to being a genius because right now he wanted to leave as fast as possible.

Draco left the Head's room and strode down the hall, intent on nothing more than making it to the carriages outside, but he paused half-way down the main hall. He backtracked and headed up to the infirmary.

He was loathed to enter the room because even from down the hall he could hear laughter and celebrations, but if he didn't tell Bill where he was going, than the Weasley would just look for him and find him, no doubt at a point in time where Draco just wanted to be alone. All he had to do was just tell Bill that he was leaving for a few, and that he would be fine and he could survive the next few days in solitude where no one would pry into his life, or ask him how he was feeling or how he was coping with the shit life was dumping on him at this very moment.

He stepped into the room and spotted Bill crowded with the others around Ron's bed, all of them talking over each other, interrupting a story to correct it or add to it. Draco leaned against the doorway and waited, not wanting to call out to Bill and gain everyone's attention.

Bill seemed to sense his presence because he paused in mid-conversation and looked up. Draco jerked his head to the hall and then left; a few moments later and Bill appeared in the hall.

"What's going on?" he asked with his usual smile, but his eyes were sparkling brighter than usual and he was bouncing lightly on his toes.

"I have to head out for a few days for a family thing," said Draco. "Sam and Laney left." He liked how two unrelated sentences could bring about the wrong conclusion.

"Oh, shit," said Bill. "I heard about that and totally forgot to see how you were doing with them gone. How have you been?"

Draco let a soft sneer slide onto his lips. "Fine, Bill. If you think about it I only met them three months ago really, so I'm fine."

"Well, yeah, but they're family."

A loud burst of laughter caused Draco to tense and glance at the infirmary doors.

"Yeah," he agreed distractedly. "I'll be gone a few days, don't know how many yet."

"Alright, have fun," said Bill. "Keep in touch."

A raised voice made Draco swing back to the doors at the noise. "Sure," he said, distractedly.

"And write if you need anything."

Draco forced his attention back onto Bill and he smiled. "Thanks. See you around."

He left before Bill could say anything more or before Bill could realize that he was on edge. He went straight to the carriages and once he arrived in Hogsmeade, took the Floo straight to his flat.

He had several anti-dust charms on his flat, so that it was exactly the way he left it over three months ago, perfect spotless. He enlarged his trunk in his bedroom but didn't bother to unpack. Instead he went straight to the kitchen, opening up his cupboard and staring at the few bottles of wine and whiskey he had stocked. He swore, shut the door without taking any, and then went to his study, collapsing in the chair behind his desk and staring at the wall.

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Bill had run after his family after commanding Draco to stick around before he left for home. He had easily caught up with them because his mother didn't exactly run and no one wanted to burst in before she and their dad got there, and so, grouped together as they were, they barely fit through the infirmary doors.

Poppy approached them as they came in with a smile on her face.

"He just woke up, so he may be a little bit out of it, but he should be perfectly fine."

"Thank you," said Molly, and then they were crowding around Ron's bed as the youngest boy looked up at them all, a faint furrow over his blue eyes.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" asked their mother, perching on the side of Ron's bed and cupping his cheek with her hand. "You look really pale, do you feel dizzy at all?"

The furrows deepened and Ron's eyes swept over all of them.

"Ron?" asked Arthur.

"Am I Ron? Who are you?" asked Ron. "What's going on? What happened?"

Molly gasped, her hand flying over her mouth and for a second Bill was sure that everyone's heart had just skipped a beat in horror, like his had, but then he saw that Ron's lips were fighting a smile and that his face was turning slightly red with suppressed laughter.

"You utter bastard, Ron," he said, shaking his head and laughing, and then Ron was breaking out into peals of laughter, holding his stomach as the Weasley family and additional members pretended to be more affronted than they were.

Of course, Molly did not find it funny, and she was sure to voice her disproval and frown, but she couldn't stay angry, not when he had miraculously recovered, and so it was only a few moments until she had pulled him into a tight hug. And for the first time in his seventeen years, Ron didn't try to pull away, but he held on as well.

"Look at you," said Molly, finally releasing him and looking him over with a critical eye, "you're as pale as a ghost, and all skin and bones. What have you been eating?"

"Well, nothing Mum, I've been in a coma," said Ron with a slight roll of the eyes.

Ginny pushed past Molly to give Ron a hug, and then everyone was clamoring to pull Ron into an embrace or muss up his hair or slap his back. Bill had chucked his chin, like he had when Ron was a kid.

"You did good," he said.

Ron obviously realized he was referring to telling him Draco's message and he opened his mouth, no doubt to ask about how things had gone, but then Harry and Hermione had come forward, and the friends were talking a mile a minute all about the Death Eater's capture.

It was then that Bill felt eyes on him and he turned towards the door to see Draco leaning in the doorway, completely mastering the nonchalant and unconcerned expression. He could have been in an advertisement. Draco jerked his head to the hall and Bill slipped out, knowing that he was probably still grinning like an idiot.

Draco, however, didn't mention anything about it, which should have been the first clue that something was not right, but Bill missed it. With everything in the world looking up, what could possibly go wrong?

He only half-paid attention to the conversation, not because he was eager to get away, or because he didn't care, but because it is very hard to take anything very seriously when the Order had just scored a major success, Sirius had come back from the dead, and his youngest brother had made a miraculous recovery. Not only that, but Draco was considering joining the Order which meant that Bill could finally come clean to his parents about that as well.

He did think that Draco seemed distracted, glancing to the door whenever the Weasleys were particularly loud, and he didn't have the sarcastic, witty comments that Bill was used to hearing, but he attributed it to the fact that Laney and Sam had left. Anyone would be affected by the departure of family, right?

Still, he frowned as Draco left, watching him walk down the hall before brushing his concern off. Draco was an adult now, even if he did feel that seventeen was a little young to be considered responsible. But, Draco had managed to escape the Dark Lord and pull of the greatest blow to Voldemort since the birth of Harry. He could take care of himself.

He returned to the infirmary, picking up the excited conversation of Harry.

"And that's not the best thing. What do you think Draco did?"

Oh, shit.

The entire Weasley family was listening in with rapt expressions. Bill knew that the last few days had been complete hell on their curiosity. First Bill had run in during the middle of the night carrying the unconscious son of Lucius Malfoy, and refused to tell them why. Secondly, both Dumbledore and Kingsley had consulted with Draco. Thirdly, Draco was being treated in Hogwarts, meaning that he must be in danger of some sort to not be at St. Mungo's. Fourthly, Bill had visited him as had Harry and Hermione, and this was the first time pieces of the puzzle were being put together for them.

"What did the ferret do?" asked Ron, but his voice was light, obviously not holding the same disdain for Draco as he had before. Bill remembered Draco saying that Ron had been present when the knife had been stuck through his arm. No doubt Ron had realized that Draco was truly on their side after all.

"Well, since he was the one that told you about the Veil in the first place, he was obviously planning the ambush," said Harry.

Bill wondered if he could step in and stop the story from being told on grounds that this information should be given out at an Order meeting, and not in the infirmary, but he doubted anyone would actually listen to him.

"Yeah," said Ron. "He had me tell Bill that it was the fourth night and that he needed a coin from the Museum."

All heads turned to him and Bill gave a tight smile, shrugging hopelessly.

"Did he now," said Molly.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Something about getting Voldemort's horcrux from the Veil."

"He was pulling Voldemort's horcrux from the Veil?" demanded Arthur. "He was doing this for Voldemort?"

"No," said Harry. "If he had, he would have told Voldemort about the whole thing."

"But what's this about a coin?" asked Molly. Hermione hastened to explain.

"The ritual needed a coin. See, it was based on the myth that Charon, the boatman, ferries souls across the river. To get the Horcrux back, there had to be payment."

"Why was there a horcrux in the Veil in the first place?" asked Arthur.

Bill groaned and sank into a chair. This was going to be hell to explain.

"When Sirius fell through the Veil," said Harry, "it was because of Bellatrix."

"She," said Hermione, "had the locket that was Voldemort's horcrux, but she didn't realize it."

They had obviously been talking to Dumbledore because they were well informed.

"When Sirius fell," said Harry, "he managed to grab at the necklace, but it broke and so it fell through with him. Voldemort wanted to get it out and for that he needed Draco."

"Why did he need Malfoy's boy?" asked Arthur.

"Because he knew the ritual," said Hermione, neatly glazing over the fact that Draco had translated a set of runes that no one had translated in centuries. "He told Ron about the coin, who told Bill, who told Dumbledore who moved all but one coin from the museum. This way when Draco finally told Voldemort about the coin, they were only able to grab the one. On the fourth night Draco took the Death Eaters to the Veil, but the Aurors knew that they were coming, because Draco told Ron who told Bill, so they had set up an ambush."

"But the Death Eaters warded the doors, so the Aurors had a little trouble getting through," said Harry, taking up the story. "Because of that, Draco was forced to complete the ritual, but instead of pulling out the horcrux he pulled out Sirius instead."

"No!" said Ron, speaking for the rest of the shocked Weasleys.

Harry grinned, nodding like crazy. "He's fine. He's in the hospital for observation and tests, but I've seen him and he's okay. Because Wormtail was captured, he's been cleared."

"Bloody hell," said Ron.

"If Sirius was holding the horcrux, wouldn't it come out with him?" asked Arthur.

"No," said Hermione. "The horcrux is a separate soul in itself and so it needs it's own coin. That was why Draco had only one left in the museum. Voldemort thought that calling out Sirius would bring his soul out as well, but it didn't. I think that Draco didn't want to chance Voldemort getting his hands on it, which was why he called out Sirius and why he wanted only one coin."

"You're saying that Lucius Malfoy's son is in the Order?" asked Arthur.

"Not yet. Maybe later on. He doesn't exactly get along with people well," said Hermione.

Bill snorted at the understatement, but it was a bad move because everyone looked over at him again.

"You seem to have played an integral part in this whole thing," said Molly Weasley.

"Uh, yeah," said Bill. "I guess you could say that."

"But you weren't going to say anything."

"No."

"Because?"

"Because it's not my story to tell," said Bill.

"But you knew about the Malfoy boy being on our side."

"Yes."

"When did you even talk to him?"

"Last year I was his Runes Professor. He was helping me with a few projects and we got to talking."

"About Death Eaters."

"About a lot of things. He's a smart kid; he knew most of it was wrong but he was still working out a few things. I helped him."

"You converted a Malfoy?" asked George.

"Led him to the light?" asked Fred.

"Shocking."

"Startling."

"Didn't think it could be done."

"Knew it couldn't be done."

"But that's our Bill."

"Always trying to save everyone."

"Good job, mate."

"Trying for anyone in particular next?"

"Can we give you suggestions?"

"Is there a form to fill out?"

Bill gave them a look and they stepped back, mock frightened.

"The point is," he said, "it didn't feel right telling you, and I still haven't told you everything because it's Draco's business, and I doubt he wants his life to be spilled to the entire Order."

Arthur nodded. "I understand."

Pomfrey came over then to give Ron a potion and her interruption caused the conversation to once more center around Ron, where it should be, and Bill was relieved that Draco was no longer a topic. He was relieved far too early on.

"You do look rather pale," said Pomfrey. "Still, you're blood was completely renewed, so no doubt it will take you a little while to recover."

"Wait," said Hermione. "I thought you couldn't remove the blood with the Sanguis curse."

"You can't," said Pomfrey. "He was misdiagnosed. He actually had the Aeris curse, which should have killed him in a day, but because the Cruciatus inflamed his blood, the curse took longer to work."

"What clued you into the misdiagnosis?" asked Hermione.

Pomfrey frowned. "I didn't. Didn't he tell you?"

"Didn't who tell us what?"

Pomfrey put the potions she was carrying down. "Draco," she said. "He looked over the chart and figured out what it was."

"What?" asked Molly.

"He knew?" asked Arthur.

"He didn't know," said the nurse, shrugging. "He looked over the chart and re-diagnosed Ron. A second opinion if you will."

"And you listened to him?" asked Molly.

"Don't think you should sound so put out, mum," said Fred.

"Yeah, seeing as the bloke did just save ickle-Ron," said George.

"But still, he is just a boy. How did he-?"

Bill looked around to see that Hermione and Harry were looking away from the Weasley matriarch, exchanging secretive looks. They knew. Ron was becoming captivated with his blankets; he must know as well. Ginny looked as if she suspected it, because she absorbed that bit of information with raised eyebrows and a slight smile.

Charlie caught Bill's eyes, mouthing 'wow' and looking suitably impressed. Bill gave a smirk, because Draco wasn't there to give his own.

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Yay! So, yes, Ron lives. I actually planned out a bit of the third story before finishing off this story, and I need Ron for the third, so I never planned on killing him off, I just acted like it (hee-hee!).