Author's note: Hey everyone, just want to say, I reposted the last chapter -CHAP 26 SUMMER DAYS because a someone informed me of a few gaps in the story thatI had to cover up. be sure to check it out. Also, thanks everyone, Eliot, Prowlingkitkat, slightlypsychoprincess-my faithful reveiws-love you to bits!
Prowlingkitkat, sorry but you'll have to wait till next chapter to see about Hermione because I have to show Draco's summer.
also, This one is for AIMEE, because of something that were put into my line of sight. Really, sometimes criticism really helps writers make their story better. So here's the next chapter enjoy!
Chapter 27 – Summer Nights
The Dark Lord's followers had a strange penchant for lonely houses on hills, a taste that might have arisen from the Little House. This, however was an exception to the rule, this was a rather large abandoned warehouse far away from everything in Dover. It was a large expanse lit by a few over head lamps.
The silence of the place was shattered by a sudden popping. Two figures apparated into the shadowy but clean space that served as this certain safe house's infirmary. Between them an unconscious body was being levitated. The face of the Deatheater was pale and twisted with agony. It seemed that he was under so much pain that he had gone into shock.
"Assistance!" cried the hooded Deatheater on the left. His voice was low and croaky as if he was worried. He was probably a close friend of the one in trouble. The three of them were just out for a night on the town when they had been ambushed by three young Aurors who were just thirsty for blood. The man in between the two others, the injured man was a researcher. He graduated from Hogwarts as top of his class in potions and had been researching potions for Voldemort. He had never harmed anyone.
"What happened?" demanded Nurse-on-call Genella Hansnickety.
"Bloody aurors!" the other one, the hooded figure on the unconscious patient's right snapped. "The bastards decided to use a Thrombosia charm."
A group of about seven Aurors walked into the muggle bar that these three Deatheaters had been out drinking. The Aurors immediately recognized one of the men in their group of about ten as a known Deatheater. The Aurors had begun open fire regardless of the civilians and muggles that were present. There were casualties on both sides and the ministry of magic was left with quite a mess to clean up. The wizards had trashed the bar, uprooted trees and cracked pavement outside and even got a few of the car alarms in the vicinity to go off.
One of them had been caught at the receiving end of a particularly nasty spell, A Thrombosia Charm.
The nurse frowned.
"Oh, dear." She said as his two upright friends lay the patient out on one of the cots. Genella examined him carefully, other than the Dreaded Charm-as the Thrombosia was sometime known as- he was covered with some cuts and bruises and a terrible puncture wound in his abdomen when he had apparently been thrown off his feet and into something sharp. The poor dear was obviously not field trained. "Oh dear, Oh dear,"
"Woman, what are you waiting for?" demanded one of his friends. The man lowered his hood to reveal a dark skinned ban with a mustache. His face was also blood streaked but obviously not to the same extent. "Heal him."
The nurse shook her head. She hated not being able to do more, but she was just not qualified to handle something of this magnitude.
"This is well beyond my abilities," she said apologetically "his only chance is if you take him to Swinthin's."
The two nodded and wasted no time yelling at her. They seemed to understand the gravity of what was happening and they disapparated immediately.
They reappeared in a more professional looking place, sterile and white, they bounded down the well lit halls calling for assistance. One of the younger healers helped them place their charge on a gurney and wheeled them towards one of the most skilled healers in the business.
Swithin's Hospital was a fairly nondescript building in the outskirts of Cornwall, on the outside it was nothing more than a large five structure with a brick edifice. On the inside however it was an advanced and efficient medical center, a Deatheater run hospital with the most skilled pure blooded healers in its employ among them, was the rather famous Draco Malfoy.
The last few weeks had been very routine for Draco. He had spent most of his time between Swithin's Hospital and back at malfoy manor. Besides the brief conversation he had with his wife (barf) he had not spoken with anyone from school and he preferred it that way.
There was a time that he had cringed at the ghastly illness and disfigurations that had befallen the Deatheaters at the hands on the Aurors, even though Draco had never been particularly squeamish at the sight of blood. At one point he had to sprint out of the hospital to vomit at the sight of a mere splinching.
Now, he barely batted a pale eyelash.
The Deatheaters had needed Healers. The war was happening in the back alleys and the tunnels, the anal of society, it was happening in secret but it was happening. The Auror's got treated at St. Mungo's but the Deatheaters had no where to go. Not until Healer Stamos Argyle had decided to pick several promising pure-blooded students and given them a highly comprehensive crash course in Medical Wizardry. No one had taken better to the program than Draco Malfoy.
Since the beginning of the summer before fourth year, Draco had been drilled in every remedy, antidote, healing spell and anesthesiological charm that was known to wizard-kind. He knew how to treat anything from a back ache to dysentery. Last summer was the start of his field training. He had begun to perform checkups, physical exams, small treatments, critical care and magical surgery. The Deatheaters and Hr. Argyle had soon found that Draco had quite an amazing knack for it and he quickly rose though the ranks, almost earning his Healing degree through sheer experience.
Draco had been busy all summer healing the sick-it sounded like such a noble thing to do-it wasn't. He wasn't doing this because he wanted to help people, he did it because he liked being good at something. He also liked being busy and not having to think about everything, and he kept busy. He didn't think have to think about Deatheaters taking his first born or something like that. He could concentrate about something else.
And then A few days ago, he had a conversation with Hermione about doctors. He ended up being paranoid about his father finding out about the tot. He spent the entire dinner that night, walking on eggshells but managed to forget about it when he was called back to Swithin's for an emergency appendectomy.
He had injured wizards coming in at all hours of the day and night.
This time, few nurses and interns (all of whom were older than Draco) rolled a gurney into his exam room, explaining about the Thrombosia charm and the circumstances.
"And these are supposedly the good guys." Draco replied shaking his head. He quickly cast a sterilization charm over the room. He got to work immediately. This case was serious and he could already see several complications about to arise, he needed to preempt them. He sprinkled some anti-biotic biotic powder and then abruptly stopped.
The wizard was going to need medical surgery. Draco took out his wand, cast a cleansing spell and administered a magical incision. A second later, his patient's companions bounded into the room which really annoyed him.
"You put him with a student?" demanded one of them. He was a sallow faced man with limp brown hair.
"This is no student." One of the interns hissed. They were all sitting around watching him with wide eager eyes, this he had gotten used to. The annoying friends barreling into his exam room so he was rather glad at the cold, patronizing reception by the intern who was still talking, "This is-"
"Draco Malfoy." Draco put in with a pale blond eyebrow. "and please don't mind me. I'm just in the middle of extensive open heart surgery to save your comrade's life."
The two men knew of the Malfoys, of course, and fell silent.
A Thrombosia charm, the Aurors had cast a charm that forced the flow of blood back towards the heart too quickly making the heart expand and tear. If the petient had been placed in front of Draco only a mere two minutes after they did, the poor man's heart would have exploded. It was a deeply cruel punishment unfortunately, not a very rare thing these days.
Draco held out his hand for a jar of Anistalsis, a violently yellow concoction that needed to be administered right on the heart to mend the tissue. An intern scrambled to retrieve it for him and he slicked it over the heart, and then massaged it lightly to reverse the flow of blood. Then he pressed the tip of his wand onto the skin next to the incision and muttered the spell to minimize complication.
"Your comrade will be fine." Draco informed the anxious friends. They both seemed to sigh in relief. "He's not field trained his he?" he asked assessing the entire situation with one look at the Deatheaters assembled in front of him. Both men were tanned, rough and rugged, the one on his table was skinny and pale. "You were supposed to be watching him."
Both Deatheaters nodded and looked chastised. It suddenly became apparent to Draco that they had not been nervous because they were friends, the Deatheaters were nervous because they were afraid of the punishment the Dark Lord would administer if he found out that they failed.
Draco felt immediately annoyed by the two men.
"Better watch him closer next time, yeah?" he snapped tersely.
The two older Deatheaters looked at him with a mixture of agreement and resentment. After all, he was talking to them as if he was not ten years younger then them. They said nothing but left the room, their tails between their legs.
Draco Malfoy was a prodigy.
The Dark Lord needed him, his father was influential, and sometime soon it maybe them on the table in his exam room. It would not do to cross him.
The blond boy quickly performed the last of what was needed of him, casting the necessary spells and applying the thick purple paste that he, himself, had brewed earlier that day to knit up the wound.
The interns all scrambled to wheel the patient out and stumbled all over themselves to suck up to him. It really was pathetic.
He was the most talented of his peers, and many of his superiors, that much he knew. He didn't need to be reminded about it so often.
Another thing was that he had realized suddenly that his father was proud of him. Very proud of him.
Wonderful, only a decade and some too late.
Well, Lucius could stuff it for all Draco cared. His father only cared about him now because The Great-and-wonderful Lord Voldemort cared about him now. He was powerful now, talented, essential.
He also did not give so much as a toss to the both of them.
There was a time that he would have done anything, anything at all just to gain his father's praise.
What an ignorant fool he was.
He had come to a decision over the school year to switch sides, his Godfather, however, had encouraged him to just go on what he had been doing for the previous summers and not to let Lucius or anyone expect that he had defected.
He was not going to back the loosing party. As much as he disliked that crack pot old fool of a headmaster, he respected him. Which was more then he could say for the shriveled up mess that was 'His Lord.'
"You serve the dark lord well, young master Malfoy, he smiles upon you." Bid a particularly annoying paramedic. "He will let you into his circle soon."
Draco grinned humorlessly.
He would indeed. But sooner than this buffoon thought and just when Voldemort thought he won, he would be proved very, very wrong.
He won't be smiling then.
Author's note: Dougie Houser doesn't belong to me either.. I just thought that this was so hot. I'm not so sure about this chapter, please tell me how you like it.