Right. I'm sorry I took fifty years to update. I hope you can forgive me, and I want you all to know, that because it's not the summer I will try to update as often as possible. So enjoy the new chapter. I just hope that I've managed to keep the characters right—they sometimes get lost when you leave them so long. So read, review, and I'll update as soon as I can.

Chapter 6

Draco woke uncomfortably, his ribs, though the pain had lessened considerably, were protesting to his position, and if he didn't get the weight off his arm immediately it would probably break again. The best way to go about this, he decided when his brain finally, tiredly, kicked into gear, was to open his eyes so he could see what was going on.

The pained profile of his partner greeted him, Draco sighed lightly and shifted slightly, gritting his teeth as he realised that it was his own weight crushing his arm. He rolled to his side, slipping out from under the blankets, nearly falling off the too narrow bed. He stayed like that for a minute, gathering himself together. He was absolutely exhausted, and it was completely Ron's fault, the idiot was drawing as much healing energy as he could from him. He shivered in the cold air outside of the bed before pushing back the blanket completely and swinging his legs over the side, shooting a well deserved glare at the oblivious Ron after a small wave of dizziness left him.

He stood up and looked down at himself, grimacing, he was still in the same trousers, and the same hideous maroon jumper from yesterday. First things first, he was going to find some real clothes. "I'm throwing this thing away Ronald." he stated, as if Ron could hear him-and perhaps subconsciously he could, because Ron shifted slightly as he said the words. Draco reached over a hand, placing it lightly on Ron's feverish head, he sighed again. "Idiot." he whispered affectionately, his fingers trailed over Ron's eyes along his lashes before Draco pulled away completely, straightened and started towards the door. So long as he was up he would change, eat, and make his report.

He caught himself on the bottom of the bed as he stumbled. The break away from Ron would do him good. He wasn't stupid, he knew there was a chance Ron would die, and if Ron died and he was still as weak as he was, there was a chance he might die as well. He knew it could happen. It had almost happened-years ago, He had been the one in one of these beds half dead, and Ron-in stupid Gryfindor fashion had nearly killed himself bringing him back. One would have thought he would have grown out of being so stupid (in Draco's not so humble opinion, being noble was the highest form of stupidity-but of course there was no telling Ron that)

Draco himself would prefer that they both were alive, of course, but he wasn't about to nearly kill himself for anyone, even if that 'anyone' happened to be his partner, lover and on occasion, best friend. He left the medical room without a backwards glance-his mental, as well as physical exhaustion must be affecting him in some kind of adverse way-he could never recall feeling the need to take one last look back to make sure that Ron was still there.

As he made his way towards the rooms he and Ron shared he let his thoughts drift once again to the rather disturbing notion of a traitor among them. He didn't profess to know everyone in the organisation, but he knew enough, and he was fairly certain none of them would betray the Animagis to the Chirloc. Which left him with the uneasy feeling that there was something very strange going on. He knew that there was a team looking for the source of the Chirloc-a mission he and Ron would have been given but it had been decided they would be more of an asset on the location of potential targets and getting them into protective custody.

A waste of their talent, if Draco was to be completely honest. And it wasn't merely his 'overlarge ego' talking, as Ron was wont to call it. He knew that he and Ron were the best team in the whole organisation, he had never done anything by halves, it just wasn't his style-and Ron always had something to prove. They were well suited in that regard, and it showed in their work. They should have been given that mission-if he was right in his assumption that the other team had been captured and tortured for information. He would never have given up locations to the Chirloc-of that he was certain.

He pushed open the door to his and Ron's quarters, his feet had taken him there automatically without any input from his brain-which was most likely for the best as he was hardly concentrating on anything around him today. He felt like he hadn't slept in days, weeks even, and it was beginning to tell on him. What he needed was for Ron to wake up, move back in here so they could do the stupid 'cuddle' thing that made Ron relax and feel better, so they could move onto the sex that made him feel better.

He sighed as he reached the kitchen, he lifted the kettle, shoved it under the tap and filled it, slamming it onto the gas stove in the corner of the room, fiddling with the stupid muggle knobs (he still didn't know why they had the stupid thing-Ron was obviously taking after his stupid muggle loving father) finally a little flame lit under the kettle and he sighed in relief. Now to have a shower, find some decent clothes, have his tea, maybe some breakfast, and then he'd think about the rest of the day.

Twenty minutes later he was sitting on the sofa in the little living area nursing his cup of herbal tea, clearing his head. His wet hair was pulled over his shoulder, dampening his black polo neck jumper, but it just wasn't that important right now. Now he had to think about making his report to the council, and the nagging feeling of a spy among them just wouldn't go away.

He did briefly wonder, when he was about halfway through his cup, how Ron was doing, before shaking his head irritably and focusing once more on the task at hand. The council. He mulled it over for a while, finishing his tea. What exactly was he going to tell them? Usually he had Weasely for a sounding board, because not many people knew of his pinickidy ways when it came to reports-he needed to have ever little detail, no matter how insignificant, that way he could at least give an objective report. But he didn't have Weasely today, and he had to see the Council.

He sat his now empty mug on the coffee table and leaned back, closing his eyes briefly, thinking. When he finally moved to get up his joints ached slightly, and he frowned, annoyed. Deliberately pushing the discomfort away. It was all Potters fault, and the Weasels for making him take the damnable mission, and his own (he admitted it darkly) for ever allowing Ron to talk him into it. When had he grown soft enough to let Weasely walk all over him like that.

Dammit!

He flipped his still damp hair over his shoulder, not bothering to tie it back, just too tired to care if it ended up a tangled mess. He opened the door to the rooms and stepped out into the corridors of the Animagis base, turning towards the Council rooms.

He nodded to the secretary on the desk to the side of the Council rooms door. She smiled at him, a tad hopefully, which he ignored, and told him to go on inside. The Council was waiting for him. The council was made up of four members, the oldest Animagis partnerships in the whole organisation. It was a position Draco had every intention of obtaining one day--that was of course depending on whether Ron was likely to stop trying to get himself killed.

"Ah, Malfoy. The medic has already sent down word of Weasely's current state. Please make your report." a grey haired woman said, a kindly smile on her face. Draco hid his scowl at it. He didn't need this sympathy for the fact that his partner was unconscious in the infirmary. He supposed if Ron had been here instead he would have milked it for all it was worth.

"We picked up Potter, Granger and the child at the location you provided, we were attacked. Weasely managed to get Potter, Granger and the child to touch the portkey. We stayed and dealt with the two Chirloc before following. I was hit, and poisoned." he added, almost as an afterthought-thinking ahead of himself and irritably shooting Ron a 'I hope you bloody appreciate this you git!' before he skipped over Ron telling his old friends everything. "We spent the night at the safe house. In the morning we split into two groups, I took Potter, Weasely took Granger and the child. I do not yet know the details of Weasely's end of the mission save that he completed it and ended up badly injured. Myself and Potter however were attacked by several possessed muggles, I took ground animal form to get rid of them. After which we moved on quickly, only to be attacked once again, this time by a large and very strong Chirloc. I told Potter to hide and sealed the demon. We then continued on pick up the Portkey and arrived back here." he was annoyed, normally his report would have been more detailed, he would have been able to tell Ron's part, only being interrupted when Ron wanted to add something terribly unimportant. He was not pleased, but he couldn't bring himself to muster the strength to deal with it.

"Is that all Malfoy?" another of the four asked.

Draco shook his head. "No, I have reason to believe that there is either a spy in our midst or one of our own has been forced to give up the locations and area's we use when getting to the Portkey's. There is no way they could have had an attack that well prepared and waiting for us if they didn't know where we usually travelled." he said, voice crisp.

The four shared looks that told Draco he was right on one of the options he had given, but he knew he would never be told which. "We will look into this Malfoy." a man to the far left said, a grave look on his face.

"Perhaps you should rest. You have as long as it takes your partner to recover off Malfoy. Use it wisely." the woman who had spoke to him first said.

"We expect a written report as soon as possible also."

Draco nodded, nothing new there. He turned and left, still pondering over everything that had happened. He could isolate exactly where everything went so badly downhill-and unfortunately it wasn't when Ron had agreed to the case (as much as he would love to heap all the blame on Ron) no, it was when that Chirloc had poisoned him. There had to be something in that poison that had knocked him for a loop, because never could he remember feeling this goddamned tired afterwards-even with Ron injured and drawing off him.

He made it back to their rooms without noticing he had even been walking. He made his way to the sofa and sprawled across it, head propped up on the arm rest, staring at the ceiling with lidded eyes, his fingers probing his side where the Chirloc had cut and poisoned him, he could feel the faint scar through his top and checked a sigh.

Was it possible for the Chirloc to change their poison, to adapt in order to survive? He had been poisoned by a weaker demon, and despite the drain on his reserves from sealing the larger, he shouldn't have been affected this badly. Could whoever was controlling the demons be changing them? After all, whoever it was, was curbing their natural desires to spread dissention and destruction, could it also change their attacks?

It was something he would have to look into, scour the old texts in the library, old stories passed down by the Animagis, texts that related, in some vague way to the Chirloc. Yes, he had to look into it. Because he was not willing to be killed by some idiot demons who followed some insane madman. He refused to think of how he had once been like those idiot demons following an insane madman.

But first he needed to sleep, and badly.

His eyes closed and within seconds he was asleep.

X

"Hey doc!"

He groaned in annoyance at the voice that prodding him towards wakefulness. Awake was not something he wanted to be right now. Especially not with his splitting headache and those very irritating flushes going through him.

"I think he's waking up."

Like hell I am! He thought irritably, shifting a little to get more comfortable, willing himself to drop back into the blackness that hovered just out of his reach.

"oh come on! You've been sleeping for days! And you call me lazy!"

His brow crinkled a little and he let his eyes open a little until he could just about make out whoever was standing leaning over him. Once he knew he mumbled a barely coherent "Go 'way." before promptly closing his eyes again.

He felt a hand come to rest on his forehead and he let out a sigh of frustration and opened his eyes again. "What?" he asked.

Blue eyes blinked down at him, and a smile stretched the red heads lips, a concerned one, but a smile. "You're still a little feverish. The doc found you collapsed in our rooms when he went to get you when I woke up, you've been out for ages now." Ron sat down heavily on the bed beside Draco. "Thought you said you were never going to let yourself to be drained to the point of death?"

"I did." Draco responded quietly.

"Well you did a pretty lousy job of it." Ron said with his far too concerned smile, and Draco didn't like it at all.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked, his irritation shining through.

"Doc say's you went into the coma because I was draining you for energy to heal my wounds. He also said you were fighting off the remnants of the poison yourself-from when the Chirloc got you." his eyes narrowed slightly. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you weren't healed properly?"

Draco snorted and pushed himself into a sitting position, he disliked having Ron tower over him like that--even though their height difference made it non-negotiable most of the time. "Because you would have been an idiot about it Weasely." he said, reaching for the glass of water that stood on the table beside the infirmary bed he was in.

"I would have been an idiot? Who was the one walking round not healed? You could have screwed up the whole mission, Malfoy." Ron shot back, only the concern in his eyes making his words less biting.

Draco closed his eyes, and did his best to fight down his raging headache, sipping the water slowly. "But I didn't. So shut up."

Ron's eyes narrowed into a glare. "I will not shut up. Dammit Draco--!" he was at a loss for what to say, because he doubted anything would get through to his partner.

Draco opened his eyes and looked at Ron, studying him finally. He was pale, still not fully healed, but enough that he didn't need to drain off him now, which was a blessing--because Draco didn't think he could give much more. He was still bandaged up, the bandages showing through the t-shirt he was wearing.

At least he was alive, Draco thought to himself tiredly. The bother of training up a replacement partner would just be so much more hassle than it was worth.

"Draco?" Ron said softly.

"What?"

Ron's hand reached out again to brush across his forehead, under his fringe. "You should probably rest some more."

Draco rolled his eyes, hadn't that been what he had been trying to do when Ron had woken him up, but he didn't have the energy to tell him so, but he mustered up enough to think it to him very clearly, before allowing himself to slide back under the blanket and closing his eyes. He would get to that research later on, when he felt a little more human.

Ron watched Draco drift off again and sighed. Now he knew why Draco had stormed round for days after that time he had been almost killed, slamming doors, letting very heavy books drop to land with a very loud thump on tables, the venom hidden in every word he said. He (Ron) had let himself slip into the same kind of coma Draco had been in, letting Draco draw as much as he needed, and more, to bring him back from the brink of death. When Draco had found out he hadn't been pleased in the slightest--hence the door slamming and book thumping.

Ron knew it had been Draco's way of telling him that he had been an idiot and that he shouldn't have done it. But in the end it had been worth it. He wasn't sure Draco had done it intentionally or not, but either way Ron felt the need to strangle him for doing it. He definitely knew how Draco had felt. To wake up to find your partner had gone into a coma and made themselves ill for you didn't sit well with him. When he was sure Draco was asleep he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek--something Draco would have thrown a fit over had he been aware of it.

He slid off the bed and shuffled across the small space to his own bed, his chest still hurt a lot, and his arm was still bandaged and in a sling, and he was still dead tired, but all in all he was feeling much better than he felt he had any right to feel after that attack. He climbed into bed with a few grumbled and the odd winch and settled down. He hated being the one who was ill, it was just easier if it was Draco. Coming from such a large family had instilled a need to be useful and help others, and he liked puttering around and being generally domestic when Draco was the one confined to bed (not that he would ever tell Draco so).

He sighed to himself as he lay there. The next few days would be pretty damn difficult.

He let sleep overtake him.