Bill wasn't completely transformed as he was still recognizable, but certain aspects of him were certainly different. His limbs were elongated, his posture crooked. Even from a distance Draco could tell that Bill's face was contorted in rage, and he knew that they had been spotted. There was something in the way that Bill's prowl abruptly ended and his face turned towards them.

"We need to run," Draco stated.

Astoria tried to put weight on her leg, but it was useless – there may as well have been nothing there. She immediately collapsed on that side and she half-dragged Draco down with her. He looked down in surprise but when he tried to refocus on whatever Bill had become, he had disappeared. The hair rose on the back of his neck and he tried to swallow the fear that was overcoming him. A part of him just wanted to run and ensure his own safety, but something held him back... quite literally. Astoria clutched to him in a frantic way that he had never seen on her before and he knew he couldn't just abandon her, despite what his self-preservation was pleading.

Draco hoisted her back up, a little more roughly than he intended. She hobbled her way as fast as she could, but Draco couldn't hold her as securely as he would have wanted as he needed to have his wand out. Astoria was so unbalanced that she required both arms to be around his neck the whole time. Just as they weren't far from the cottage and Draco began to feel a little bit of hope of getting there unscathed, he realized that he heard soft footsteps and breathing behind him. His breathing became quicker and he turned to look over his shoulder, only to see Bill standing there with a wide and sadistic smile on his face. Draco dropped Astoria in order to step in front of her, but he wasn't quick enough. Bill lashed forward, and with nails that were longer than normal, slashed Draco deeply across his back. The pain hit him immediately and he soon joined Astoria on the ground. His wand had slipped from his hands and he lay there undefended. He saw Astoria near him and he reached out to grab her hand. Her eyes met his and he could see panic there, no doubt the same panic that she saw on him. Just as his fingers almost touched hers, he felt pressure around his ankles as he was dragged from her. His chin hit the ground painfully. He twisted his body around to try to face Bill, but it was impossible. He made a reach for his wand as he passed, but he was simply not close enough.

Draco clawed the ground desperately as he tried to escape. He felt Bill's grip loosen and thought that perhaps he had tired whatever Bill had become. Instead, Bill had simply flipped Draco over. He held Draco down by the shoulders and then began to lower his mouth as if to rip out Draco's throat. His only saving grace came in the way of a red streak of light that came from near the cottage. Part of him had expected that it was Astoria who had done it, but when he looked he saw a very pregnant Fleur. Her silvery blonde hair whipped around in the wind and her face was pale in the moonlight. George ran from the cottage to try to force Fleur back inside, and in that moment an enraged Bill reached down and slammed Draco's head off the ground repeatedly. Dazed, Draco didn't understand what was going on anymore. His head pounded, his back was on fire, and his fingers stung horribly. He just wanted to close his eyes... just for a moment...

When he opened them again, Draco discovered that he was in St. Mungo's. He could recognize his workplace immediately. The ambiance was unforgettable. He groaned at the idea, but then remembered how he had gotten there. Fleur – George – Astoria... Bill. He looked down at his hands to see that his fingers had been wrapped up at the tips. He still felt sore but felt it necessary to get out of bed. When he tried to, though, pain seared in his back where he had been slashed. He leaned on his bed heavily, and it wasn't long before a Healer entered the room. The Healer was one that Draco worked with frequently, but like many of his colleagues, this one tended to treat Draco poorly due to his history.

Kilworthy strode over and lifted Draco from under his arms and assisted him back into bed. He looked over Draco in a way that made Draco feel small. A sneer crossed his face, but Kilworthy spoke and cut anything that Draco might have begun to say. "Trying to be a hero, now, are you?" the tone in Kilworthy's voice was undeniably antagonizing. His dark eyes flashed mischievously as if he knew no one was going to overhear him. "Didn't do too well, huh? Haven't you learned that Malfoys tend to always be on the losing side of things?"

"He was a monster," was all Draco could defend himself with. He felt angry, not only with Kilworthy, but also with himself. He was infuriated that Kilworthy wasn't wrong, and it only took a moment for all of Draco's mistakes to catch up with him. They were all so familiar to him that they haunted him daily. He didn't know what he would give to go back and change it, change everything. He couldn't imagine how different his life would be now. He wasn't sure if he would even be a Healer, but if he had chose the same path, he didn't know whether he would be more established and more respected. He almost scoffed at his own thought – of course he would be more respected. It wasn't a difficult threshold to reach.

Draco's eyes examined Kilworthy as if he was trying to read his mind. He had been rather talented at Occlumency, but had never truly mastered Legilimency. He simply didn't have the discipline at the time, nor would he use it right then and there. It was a fireable offence to use Legilimency at work. He wasn't sure who at his work was even capable of that sort of magic.

"Where's Astoria Greengrass?" he suddenly asked. He could worry about the others later, but Astoria was his main concern.

"That's confidential. Shouldn't you know better? Unless you're immediate family – "

"Save me the spiel, Kilworthy," Draco snapped. "She was with me when it happened. I need to know. She must be here."

Kilworthy shrugged his shoulders in a frustrating manner.

"What about Bill Weasley? He's my patient, after all, I have a right to know."

"He's currently in the psychiatric ward," Kilworthy said. He seemed so detached and uncaring. How was it that Draco was the one with the bad reputation for not caring for his patients when Kilworthy spoke of everyone as if they were numbers? He never showed an ounce of concern over the well-being of anyone.

"Psych? Why the hell would he be there?" Draco demanded. "He needs to be under surveillance."

"He's a man who was attacked by a werewolf, and because of this now has delusions that he, too, is a werewolf, when all he has is scars," Kilworthy explained as if Draco wasn't keeping up with the story. "If he doesn't deserve to be in psych, then I don't know who is."

Draco seemed pensive for a moment. His brows were furrowed. If the tips of his fingers weren't bandaged, he would have clenched his hands. He bit his tongue, unwilling to allow himself to begin to argue with Kilworthy about the appropriate treatment for Bill. All he knew was that he needed to get out of this bed, and he needed to find Astoria.