A/N; Thank you to everyone that left kudos, reviewed, or just read. I appreciate all the love. Thank you to my Alpha/ Beta Lioness_Snake she has some deliciously naughty stories, go check her out. I hope you enjoy the next chapter.
Some nights, the wolf inside of me shrinks
to nothing
She bares her teeth and runs away
The dragon in my chest rejects me
She's so tired of being slain
There are nights when the lioness cowers
Says she can't fight it another day…
What about the phoenix?
She sits with me in darkness
She whispers…
We'll rise. Just you wait
/srwpoetry
Whisky Tango
Chapter Four
The spell left her mouth without thinking. She couldn't take it anymore, Ronald hit the wall with a thud, eyes wide, unblinking, "NO! No, no, no,…Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck!" She was right and properly screwed, "Merlins hairy fucking balls, I am not going to Azkaban for you, Ronald!" Hermione was thankful for the wards she placed, even her neighbors were unaware of the vicious fights. She lost her temper, something that Ronald was prone too, not her.
Hermione glared at his still form, panic fluttering in her chest. Ron looked as if he had stopped breathing, "Oh, Fuck! This is not happening!"
She needed a moment to think. This looked bad, she didn't mean it, "Hmmm…Damnit! Bloody fucking hell!" Hermione covered her face with both hands.
She hadn't meant to hurt him, but he wouldn't stop. She aimed her wand, "Rennervate," She had to at least try. Creeping slowly to the other side of the kitchen. Wand still pointed at Ron. She noticed his chest start to rise, she tapped him with her foot, "Ronald… Ronald, wake up!"
Clear fluid leaked from one ear, paired with blood from the back of his head. Hermione kicked him hard in the ribs, "Ronald, get up!" She held her breath, "Come on, Ronald," His eyes rolled, foam dribbled from his mouth. Violent tremors wracked his body as Ronald's head slammed itself repeatedly against the tiles. His arms and legs flailing wildly knocking the empty bottles to the floor. Shattering, sending wicked shards in all directions.
Hermione jumped back to avoid the glass. Watching, not bothering to move him away from any furniture that he might injure himself on. Smirking a bit when Ronald bit his tongue. She was still angry at him and angry at herself. She should have left him long before it got to this. All the things that she should have done ran through her mind. She went to the cupboard and found a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey. She picked up Ron's overturned chair and sat at the table, careful to avoid the glass. The whisky stung her split lip, burning her raw throat, and clearing her head.
When the seizure stopped, she levitated Ron to the living room sofa. Where she could better assess his injuries. If she could cover up the Obliviate, she could claim she came home and found him like this. The problem lay with Ron's level of alcohol in his blood and that he might be drunk but not enough to cause this kind of damage, or he might just remember certain things. Either way, it was a chance she wasn't willing to take. She sat on the coffee table staring at the man she married, her childhood friend. This was the first and only man she had been with. This is not how it should end. She used her wand to gently remove the blood and shards of glass from his face.
Minutes ticked by, valuable minutes. She blocked the floo, she didn't need any unexpected guests. Suddenly hoping Molly wouldn't notice her damned clock. Ronald stirred, moaning louder, trying to sit up. Glass from his clothes fell into the carpet. Ronald moaned again. Blood covered the throw pillow where his head rested, and Hermione dabbed a bit of dittany to the laceration. She needed to get him somewhat cleaned up for her plan to work. She smiled as his hand reached for hers, tracing the lines of her palm with a finger. Innocently studying her hand.
Hermione reached up with her other hand to tuck red curls behind his ear, "Ronald, you had a seizure, do you know where you're at?"
"Boobals? Mione Boobals?" Bloody drool slid down his chin, a vacant stare that wasn't all that different from his usual appearance. She thought maybe she could convince him he had just fallen and had a seizure.
"Mmmm… Wha wha my boobals?" Ronald tried to speak. His eyes crossed, unable to focus, his hands went to the back of his head. Coming back bloody, "Hohooo Hohooo," Her heart broke, she had to fix this, guilt washed over her as she watched the childlike behavior. Ronald held his bloody hands out to show her, mumbling gibberish. He started to stand, and she guided him back down to the cushions.
Sitting across from him again on the coffee table. Blood and drool dribbling down his chin. She needed to fix this and fast. Concentration was key, it was just difficult to concentrate while her face was still bleeding. There were choices to be made. Fix him or get rid of her problem once and for all, that was the question. She could try another Obliviate, maybe it would reset his brain. She could just pretend to come home and start this entire evening over with. Or… an option that would definitely land her in Azkaban. She didn't want to kill him she just didn't want to be married to him anymore.
She pointed her wand at her drooling husband as he lay prone on the sofa, "Obliviate." This time said calmly with intent. This had to be the one spell she had trouble with. First her parents and now Ron.
Ronald shook his head as if he woke from a dream, rubbing his eyes, groaning, and looking up at her. Something was not quite right, and the hair stood up on Hermione's arms. Whether it was the tilt of his head or glint in his eyes, she knew there was something very wrong. She damaged his brain with the first Obliviate and flipped another switch with the second.
"Mione?" Ron gave her a questioning look his blue eyes narrowed, "Wha happened? Wha the bloody hell did you do to me? You fucking bitch!" He roared, " You did something to me…" He started toward her. Hate creeping back into his eyes, his fists clenching. Ronald lunged off the couch a ferocious growl left his lips. Wrapping both hands around her neck. He knocked her to the ground. Pinning her with his knees. Hermione freed his hold on her throat. She began to buck, twisting, scrambling, desperate to get away from the attack. Ronald grabbed her by the ankles, pulling her back under him.
"You're not getting away from me, you Mudblood bitch," Spraying her with bloody spittle. He roared again. His attack was frenzied as he pummeled her face and abdomen with both fists.
Stunned by the blows, she froze. The instinct to survive kicked in, as her mouth filled with blood, and that word filled her ears, stars dotted her vision. But her wand was still in her hand, "Crucio" It came out as fast as the Obliviate. Her curse slamming into Ron sending him twitching, unconscious on the floor. Hermione rolled to her feet. Her wand trained on Ronald. Her hands shaking from the adrenalin. Two minutes earlier, she just wanted to put everything back the way it was and now …. She stood over Ronald, wanting to hurt him again as Bellatrix had hurt her.
"Why do you insist on being a wanker Ronald? Why?" She was frustrated and angry, everything had fallen apart. She used two unforgivables in one day. Dark magic whispered in her ear that she could use the third. No one would know.
Everything she so carefully held together fell apart. She thought of the child she carried, one that would never be born. Not if she ever wanted to be free of the Weasley's. He would never let her go.
Ronald moaned, his eyes flickered open, he growled, lunging for her ankle.
Hermione jumped back, narrowly missing his grasp. Hissing the curse, "Imperio," Tears of anger streaked through the blood running down her face. Dark magic fed on the anger flowing through the curse that tumbled from her lips. He wanted to drink. This time she wouldn't stop him.
Ronald turned toward her, slowing getting to his feet. With the flattened affect of someone under the Imperious. Hermione stepped back, "Ronald sit on the sofa," She wanted to start small with her orders. He cocked his head but obeyed. Hermione edged her way to the liquor cabinet, never turning her back, her fingers wrapped around the first bottle she found.
"Drink Ronald, all of it… don't stop," The orders came out as a whisper. Hermione emptied the cabinet, loading up the coffee table. From Firewhisky to muggle gin, she placed it all in front of him. Ron was drinking straight from the bottle when she turned to leave. She wasn't sure what she wanted to accomplish with this scenario, but it was all she could think of. Apparently, Imperio was a spell she excelled at.
She paused in the doorway, looked over her shoulder at the man she once loved. Maybe even still loved. What used to be was now gone. All she wanted to do was go to bed. She was so tired. However, she needed to clean up the house first. With Ron busy drinking, she could slow down and think, attend to her wounds and just think.
She could fix the broken ribs, Splashing cold water on her face. She needed to get a good look at the damage Ron inflicted. Visually her wand fixed most of the wounds. Both eyes began to blacken. The split lip, the loosened teeth, her broken nose, it would all heal. Her ribs were sore along with the bruises on her abdomen. She brushed her teeth and fixed her hair. Her robes were torn, she would need to change. Peeking out she could see Ronald through the crack in the door, draining the last of the firewhiskey.
He looked busy, drinking everything she had put on the table as she walked back through on her way to the kitchen. Having changed into muggle sweats. She could now clean the kitchen comfortably.
The kitchen lay in shambles, she righted the chairs, repaired the broken dishes, all with her wand. It was only when she took a wet rag to clean the blood off the floor that all of the what-ifs, the whys, and maybe someday started filtering into her thoughts. It felt like giving up. It wasn't like her to give up. It was with her back to against the cupboards, sitting on that cold tile floor that she realized it wasn't love that kept her with Ronald. It was her ego. She didn't like to lose, and it felt like losing to walk away. Never wanting to admit she had failed, and it didn't matter what Ron did or how badly he behaved. She thought she could fix it. She could fix him. So, she forgave him each and every time. Believing the promises 'He would stop drinking. That he just wanted one more night out, one more drink, one more celebration,' the game continued until she felt buried beneath the lies he told.
Magic and muggle elbow grease scrubbed the kitchen, Hermione stepped back to admire her work. She felt better, now on to the living room. Perhaps Ronald had drunk a sufficient amount and would be properly pissed. Passed out is what she preferred. She wondered why using the Imperious on him before hadn't occurred to her.
"Ronald," His drunken slurs never came, "Ron?" She was met with silence. He should answer, "Ronald answer me." The ticking of the clock on the mantle was the only sound in the room. A little concerned, she pushed open the swinging door to the living room. It was empty. Discarded bottles lay tipped on the coffee table and floor, but Ronald was nowhere to be found.
"Shite! Merlin's bloody fucking nipples … Ronald!" She looked in the loo and the bedroom, Ron was gone. Hermione dashed out the front door, thinking she might be able to catch him at the corner.
Rain-soaked the empty streets, illuminated by the orange streetlights. Hermione looked up and down the surrounding blocks, as the rain fell harder. Ronald was long gone.
"Where the fuck are you?" The absolute last thing she needed was her husband stumbling around London at night under the Imperious curse, blind drunk. Soaked to the bone, she returned to the house. All she could do is wait. He may have just stepped out for more whisky.
Without Ron there to leer and harass, she decided to take a proper shower, put on her favorite pajamas, and crawl into bed. She would have bruises for the next few days, but they had already begun to fade. The bruises on her abdomen were red and tender, aching like her period threatening to start. Too tired to care she left the living room in disarray. Warding the door against Ron and curling up with her wand in her hand. She dozed off the second her head hit the pillow.
ooOoo
Antonin wore the dark grey robes of the Emergency Department, night shift. The first eight weeks kicked his arse, and he wasn't too ashamed to admit it. He had started easy, with Medical floors and day shifts, breaks, and lunch hours. Nightshift operated with half the staff and none of the resources. He was lucky to get fifteen minutes to eat, let alone hit the loo. Some new Healers sink in all the confusion. Antonin soared in the chaos. This is what he was born to do, he had found his tribe.
The night started off with a bang, with several Aurors being injured while on a raid. Minor injuries, all young and full of themselves. Busting down doors to stop dangerous creature trafficking and in the process. Uncovering a Nandu. Fortunately for them, it turned out to be a young cub. As a full-grown, Nandu would have killed them all.
Antonin spoke to the nurse as he wrote out orders, "Monitor their airways for the next four hours. If oxygen levels continue to increase, we can discharge them back to work," He took the notes from a technician on another patient. He sighed, "I'll buy if someone wants to run for coffee!" He shot her a little grin. She was cute and he noticed how her eye's twinkled when she looked at him.
"I'll go," The young tech smiled, "I was just headed for a quick break. What can I get you?"
"Large, black, two sugars please and whatever you want," He sighed heavily, flopping into his chair. He spun it around to face her as he handed over his badge, "Thanks Luv, use my card." He flashed her his best brown-eyed smoldering glance. His chest swelled a little, he still had it, the tech smiled, blushing as she turned around to leave, a little skip in her step.
He turned back to the stack of records, as the overhead speaker chirped… "Tier one trauma two minutes by portkey… Tier one trauma two minutes by portkey."
The staff jumped into action. The trauma bay was well organized. The cute technician going for his coffee turned around. Nurses stepped into position, and Antonin was up. Tier one was critical, this patient was close to death, everyone in the waiting room would now wait.
Mediwizards port keyed to a designated pad, wheeling their patient into the trauma bay. The tech at the head of the bed placed the patient on the monitor, getting that first set of vital signs. This patient was immobilized, temporary splints binding his limbs that appeared to twist at odd angles. Bubblehead in place with a ventilation charm kept the patient breathing. One eye bulged in the socket, unseeing. Nurses started intravenous lines to begin potions… Antonin stood back taking the report from the medics. At first glance, he grimaced at the medic, "Let me guess chewed up and spit out by a mountain troll?"
A tall, burly mediwizard chuckled as he spoke to Antonin. "Not quite but almost as bad. We arrived on the scene to find a twenty-five-year-old wizard supine in the street. Having been struck by a muggle bus…. A double-decker, Sir. The patient was unresponsive. We stabilized as best we could, he received four units of blood replenisher, but I'm afraid it went out faster than we could give it. I started pain potions, two cc's I didn't want to give too much because of the alcohol on board. He's sinus tach at a rate of one-ninety. I could palp a blood pressure of sixty systolic. Oxygen before assistance was fifty-four, we brought it back up to eighty-nine, " The medic handed Antonin a copy of his report, "Anything else Boss?"
"Do we know who this guy is?"
"No. Witnesses from the pub stated that this bloke showed up about an hour ago, already appearing intoxicated. There were no signs of foul play, no indication of dark magic, no trolls in the pub Sir." The medic chuckled, "Muggle witnesses stated the man is a known drunkard. They weren't surprised by what happened."
"Thank you, gentleman," Antonin nodded to the medic as they gathered up their equipment, "Now let's see what we have going on." He handed the medic report to the nurse taking notes, then began his examination. Starting at the head. This had to be a Weasley he thought, he could see the red hair through the blood. He called out his findings to the nurse, taking notes, "The skull is fractured, pupils are blown, unequal and sluggish to light," Antonin shook his head, "Trauma to the left obit… let's cover this eye…" His patient was in bad shape, the golden hour ticked. The outcome for his patient looked grim.
"Cerebral spinal fluid leaking from the ears," He moved his wand over the young man's head. "Basil skull fracture along with maxillary and zygomatic trauma, fractured orbit. Lacerations of the tongue and mouth, missing teeth… We need to call neuro. Get intensive care down here. If he lives long enough, he'll need a bed." Antonin moved across the body, casting diagnostic spells. The skeletal structure glowed, revealing the numerous bone fractures, "Does anyone know who this kid is, we need family here? Call ortho for the bi-lateral femur fractures. So, let's start some Skel o grow"
"I think that's Ron Weasley," The technician wiped at the blood on his forehead, "Yeah this bloke looks an awful lot like Ronald Weasley, he was a year ahead of me at Hogwarts. I think he married Hermione Granger, and there's still a wedding band."
Another nurse spoke up, "Auror Potter is in C pod with that team that was hit with Nandu gas."
"Go get him," Antonin continued his exam, furrowing his brow. He hoped retrieving Potter wasn't a mistake. He needed to make a positive I.D. on the patient. He couldn't recall what the Weasley boy looked like exactly. The Granger girl he remembered, and everyone knew Potter but who could tell one Weasley from the next.
He took a deep breath and got to work. The technician removed the blood-soaked clothing, cleaning with her wand. Antonin followed with his, knitting the broken pieces back together, repairing ruptured organs. Nurses kept the potions going, "I'm going to start the respiration charm. Let's get him cleaned up a bit before Potter gets in here… I need the family to make some decisions."
Antonin took a step back to read the current vital signs, "Is this the most recent blood pressure?" He scowled again. His patient was dying, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to fix him.
"Yes, Sir… I took it five minutes ago."
"Take it again and this time, check an atrial pressure. The bi-lateral femur fractures are not helping, can't regrow bones if he's bleeding all over the place…How many units of the replenisher are in?"
The nurse at the head of the bed responded, "Unit six going in … ten total with what was given by the medics."
"Push, dittany, and give another six units wide open…" If this was Ronald Weasley, things were about to go tits up. Alarms went off. Monitor charms glowed red, pulsing lights flashed over the patient. He was going to need some back-up, if for no other reason than to cover his arse.
"Sir, his pressure is dropping, sinus tach at one-eighty-nine, with runs of V-tach. Oxygen levels at seventy-two percent."
Antonin ducked his head out the door calling for another Healer, "Barry, I need another set of hands," He moved back to the hemorrhaging redhead on the table. The kid was dying. Although he wasn't fond of Weasleys, he wasn't about to let one of the Golden Trio bleed to death in his trauma bay.
Healer, Barry, strolled in, clapping Antonin on the back, "What do you have, Dolohov?" Healer Barry had worked the Emergency Department for the last twenty-five years, making him the senior Healer on for the shift. Very little could rattle Healer Barry, and Antonin loved working with Healer Barry.
"Patient was struck by a double-decker… muggle at that. I'm thinking cardiac tamponade, along with the multitude of other injuries, that one just happens to be at the top of the list… I haven't seen anyone from neuro. But I'm pretty sure the kid's brain dead, pupils are fixed and dilated, open skull fracture. I fixed the tear in the aorta." He felt like a first year Healer doing rounds.
Healer Barry drew his wand and began his exam, stopping at the eyes, "Hmmmm…Family?"
"Haven't made a positive identification." He really didn't want this to be Ronald's best friend to the Chosen One Weasley.
"Hmmm… looks like a Weasley, but the question is which one?" Barry looked grim, "I agree with a tamponade. Do you want to try to pull the fluid off the heart?"
"It's not going to hurt at this point…."
Healer Barry stopped his wand at the chest, "We have blood beginning to pool in the lungs, I'll start there if you can handle the cardiac issue."
Antonin closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, slowly exhaling, "I can handle it, I just don't think I can save this kid…"
"Son, you're not going to save this kid. I agree with you, he's brain dead, but if we can keep his heart beating until his family gets here and they see that we're doing everything in our power to save him… that right there will satisfy them," Barry put a hand on his shoulder, "So until there's nothing left to do, we push on."
Sweat beaded on his brow. Warming spells were put over trauma patients to stave off hypothermia. This caused the room to become unbearably hot. Antonin's focus on his patient never faltered when the nurse returned with Auror Harry Potter. Instead, he finished his task of relieving the heart of the pressure it was under. Only then did he stop and look over at the chosen one, the boy that had grown into a man. Auror Potter stood in the doorway, stoic and professional.
"You asked to see me, Healer Dolohov?" His voice clipped, respectful, yet still with a hint of animosity. His eyes darted to the patient under the glaring heat charms above the gurney. Blood seeping through the thin hospital gown, a bubblehead charm hissing and popping with its artificial respirations. Tubes crisscrossed, pumping potions into the body. The look on Auror Potter's face told Antonin the technician was correct, this was Ronald Weasley.
Antonin cleaned his hands with a quick tergio, "Mr. Potter, I'm afraid this patient came in without identification. We have speculated, but without a positive I.D, I have no way of contacting family… If you can, would you mind confirming the patient's identity?" He kept his demeanor professional. He glanced at Healer Barry finishing his procedure. Happy to have the older Healer in the room.
Auror Potter glared back at him, "What makes you think I would know this patient?"
Antonin kept his cool in front of the Boy Who Lived, refusing to be played. Technically he was still on probation, "I believe you may know the patient, Mr. Potter. I'm terribly sorry, but I think this may be a son of the Weasley's.
Antonin watched the changing emotions flow through Potter. Anger, uncertainty, and fear. Potter turned away from him. Slowly approaching the gurney. One hand reached for the redheads, recoiling at the sight of the pale fingers. Withdrawing a shaking hand, he shoved it deep in his pockets. He turned to Antonin, voice trembling, "It's… it's Ronald Weasley…uhh, I'll contact his wife and his family if you don't mind," Harry's eye's hardened, "Considering Molly may not react well… to you, that is and this. Maybe you could hand off your care to another Healer?"
Antonin didn't flinch at the reminder of his past, "I understand Mr. Potter, this is a delicate situation. I'll let you take care of it," If Potter wanted to inform family he would gladly bow out. He hated that part, dealing with the traumas now, that he could do. "If you like, I can have Healer Barry take over care as to not cause The Weasleys any extraneous anxiety." He bowed slightly. "Mr. Potter, right now, we're doing everything in our power, but I'm not sure how long we can keep Mr. Weasley alive. Due to the amount of brain damage. We need to know the family's wishes as to how far they would like us to go."
"I understand, I'll retrieve his wife first," Harry turned to leave, his composure wavering.
ooOoo
Startled awake by pounding on her bedroom door, Hermione rolled to her feet, wand in her hand, "Sleep it off, Ronald! I don't want to talk right now." She wasn't ready for another fight, and half wondering if the Imperious wore off when she fell asleep. She would need to look that up.
"Hermione it's me… open the door.", Harry's voice came from the other side, like ice water down her back "Hermione hurry, get dressed! Now!"
Her hands began to shake, hyperventilation, and full-blown panic threatened. Harry was going to arrest her. She would be sent to Azkaban. Hermione slowed her breathing down, pulling herself together. She could fix this. Hermione unwarded the door and let him in, "What?" She threw a heavy cloak over her cotton pajamas and turned around to see her best friend grey with shock. She slid on her heavy boots and stuffed her wand up the sleeve. Harry started to shake uncontrollably. Whatever it was it was bad.
"You have to come with me to hospital, it's Ron… Hermione, it's Ron," He clutched ahold of her, sobbing, "We have to go now, the Healers don't think he's going to make it."
Hermione's mind kicked into overdrive with too many questions. What did they know? What did Harry see? Her living room was still a disaster. She pushed gently, "What's going on, Harry?" Guiding him toward the front door.
"Ron is dying he was struck by a double-decker, The Healers say he was pissed and must have stumbled into the road, and he was hit, Hermione… It's awful Hermione, there's so much blood, and the Healers are trying, but they can't stop it… they can't fix him…" Harry crumbled to her couch, "It's my fault, Hermione, I should have done more, I should have been a better friend. I …"
Hermione noticed the ultrasound picture on the carpet next to Harry's foot. She stepped forward, covering it with her boot. Blood on the couch pillows, on the carpet, and against the walls. It looked as if someone had butchered a pig. Her mind began to berate herself for going to bed and not cleaning up. She should have cleaned the living room. She needed to get Harry out of her house before he started noticing things. She thanked the god's the only light in the room came from the streetlight, "Harry get up … let's go," She grabbed hold of his hand, apparating them both to Saint Mungos. She would need to return alone and clean fast.
ooOoo
Florescent lights flickered, and the waiting room lay eerily silent with a single discharged patient sleeping in a chair. Hermione heard the rain pelting the windows. Harry staring straight ahead in a fog of grief. She fumbled for her identification in her purse. Instead, her hand found the stolen abortion pills. Her focus drifted as well. She needed to take them before it was too late. The clerk's voice brought her back, "How may I help you this evening?"
Her hands trembled. For a moment, the words just wouldn't come out. Sticking in her throat. She dropped the pills, pulling out the I.D., "I… my husband is here," She didn't know how this was supposed to work. Her expression confused.
"His name, dear?" The clerk smiled, waiting patiently.
"Oh…oh sorry Ron, Ronald Weasley," She was holding herself together by a bare thread. The fluorescent lights were not helping, she noticed bruising on her hands, her face was sure to be a mess. Adding to the list of things she should have done before sleeping.
"Have a seat, and someone will be out to get you in a moment."
Harry tilted his head, looking at her, "Hermione, he's strong he's going to pull through. Right? I'm right, I just know it." He was so hopeful it broke her heart.
Hermione's pulse pounded in her neck, "I need the loo… I'll be right back," She darted for the ladies.
Inside she stood at the sink, splashing cold water on her face, repeating to herself to just breathe, just breathe. They didn't suspect anything, Harry said it was a bus and staggered drunk into the roadway. She was entirely responsible for that situation, but they didn't know about it. Nobody knew. She would keep it that way.
The bottle of pills rolled out onto the floor as she picked up the bag she dropped. Bending down to pick them up, she made the decision. She couldn't stay pregnant. Not one second more. She popped the pills in her mouth, swallowing them down with a sip from the tap. The nurse did say it would take twelve hours, she had time. She could be home alone and just let it happen.
Looking in the mirror, bruises glared back. She splashed more cold water on her face and touched up the blue marks with a glamour. Pulled her hair back into a ponytail and straightened out her clothes. A loud rap at the door spooked her, "Just a moment!" She squeaked.
"Hermione, the nurse is here to walk us back."
ooOoo
Antonin returned to his patient, the more he thought about Potter's insinuation that Molly wouldn't approve, irritated him. The Weasley's delicate sensibilities could fuck right off. This was his patient. Blood alcohol levels had come back through the roof. He wasn't sure how this kid could even walk, let alone stagger into traffic. He was missing something. Truth be told, Molly wasn't mad at him, he kept her secrets. A huge secret, one that he would use if pushed.
His patient had stabilized for now, and they were waiting for the wife to show up. Antonin took the time to go back over his assessment of Ronald. The boy on the gurney had a name now. A charm pushed oxygen into his lungs while another drained blood from his chest. Blood replenishers in tubes ran wide open, dittany in the largest bottles still dripped, bleeding slowed to a manageable flow.
Antonin stood for a moment in the silence, the room had been darkened save for the red warming lights. It started as a tickle in the middle of his back, an old familiar sensation that he hadn't felt in a long time. He moved closer, if he just slipped into Ronald's head, for just a moment, he felt he would find what he was looking for.
Blown pupils stared back, Antonin took a deep breath and reached into the boy's mind.