Title: Let the Light In

Author: MauVeGoddess

Pairings: Draco/Ron, Harry/Hermione

Warning: Slash fic. If you don't like slash, please leave now, but don't flame us.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc., belongs to J.K. Rowling et al.

Summary: Ron is drifting apart from his friends. Draco is blinded by his father when he refuses the Dark Mark. Will a new friendship form?


Chapter Three

Hurry Up


"Hello, how may I help you?" A bored clerk asked, doodling at her station as the four Flooed into the front lobby fireplace at St. Mungo's.

"Umm… well…" Ron articulated.

She looked up, and saw the group standing before her, huddled around a redheaded man who was holding a boy.

"Well—how about Spell Damage on the fourth floor… I'll tell them you're coming. Just go straight; the hall will direct you there." She gave them a quick smile and returned to her doodling.

They pulled open the door of the ward and stepped inside.

"Hello, and welcome to the Spell Damage Ward. How may I help you?" An attendant asked.

Ron's mother started babbling at the attendant.

"We found him just an hour ago, lying by the road and looking almost dead! He hasn't woken since then, and we don't know what happened, and we're so worried! Will he be ok? Aren't you supposed to be doing something? Don't just stand there!"

The distracted attendant's face paled. "Is that—could that be—Harry Potter?"

"Yes, it's Harry Potter, and if you don't hurry up, he won't live to sign any autographs for you. So hurry up and save his life or he's going to die!" Ron exploded.

The attendant raced down the hall and disappeared into a door near the end of a hall. Soon she came back with other white-garbed attendants and a stretcher. They wheeled Harry along to a faraway room.

Then all the Weasleys could do was wait.

Arthur Weasley paced the magenta waiting room and Molly Weasley fidgeted in her squeaky chair. Mrs. Weasley had written a note telling her other children where they were so they wouldn't worry when they arrived home to an empty house. She had sent a hospital owl to the Burrow with the note, and come back still very upset. Ron wandered down the halls, peering into the rooms with windows to see if he could find out where Harry was.

As window after window showed yet another sleeping child, Ron barely glanced into the rooms. Room number 248… number 249… number 250… Wait. He knew that face. He retraced his steps back to room number 249. Was that—no, it couldn't be—Malfoy? He was lying down, his eyes bandaged, and Lucius Malfoy stood over him, his face pale with rage.

Ron turned away quickly from the scene. He had other things to think about… Like whether or not his best friend was dead yet.

Hermione arrived at the Burrow the next day. She rushed through the door, dropped her bags in the kitchen and saw Ron sitting there, eating a pile of pancakes.

"Ron, I got your owl, and my parents let me come back from Italy early. Is Harry all right? When can I—we—go see him?"

"Well, Harry—he's—not…" Ron trailed off as his mother bustled into the kitchen.

"Ronald, are you sure that's enough breakfast? I can make sausages, too—Hermione! It's so wonderful you could come! Here let me take those bags up to Ginny's room—" Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand and the suitcases floated up the stairs. "Now, how was your trip? Would you like some breakfast? We have pancakes, and sausages…"

She bent over the stove, muttered a few words, and then sausages were sizzling on a pan. "Harry will be so glad to see you! He's not awake yet, but we're hoping…"

Hermione sat down next to Ron and a plate appeared in front of her, piled with pancakes. "The sausages are almost done, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'm sure you must be hungry from your trip. Tell me, how was Italy?"

"Wonderful. Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione managed to say before Molly Weasley started talking again.

"Oh, good. Now, I want you to eat all that's on your plates, you hear? It'll be a long day at St. Mungo's…"

Hermione and Ron managed to get some whispered conversation in as Mrs. Weasley talked.

"How's Harry, really?" Hermione asked.

Ron said, "Well, he's still out. None of us know how long it's been. You-Know-Who could have… gotten… him anytime he was out on that walk."

"His walk? Why weren't you with him, Ron? Is there something you didn't tell me?" Hermione glared suspiciously at Ron.

"Er, well…Harry and I were having a bit of a row, and he was reminded of Sirius again. He stormed out of the house, even though I tried to tell him it was dangerous—"

"Poor Harry. He hasn't been the same since June."

"I know, and it's maddening! I mean, we miss Sirius too! But not like Harry, where he can't smile and can't think of anything but him! Anything reminds Harry of Sirius! I mean, come on!" Ron complained.

"He is grieving, Ron," Hermione reminded him. "He has a lot to deal with right now, what with You-Know-Who and the Order—"

"I know, but he doesn't have to sit there doing nothing! He needs to snap out of it, or You-Know-Who will finish him off like he almost did yesterday! Harry's too depressed to protect himself!" Ron ranted. "I've been spending all summer with him, Hermione, and it hasn't been pretty. He does nothing except look at that old family album of his, at the picture of Sirius and his parents! He needs to move on!"

Hermione looked away. "You need to cut him some slack, Ron. He does have a lot on his mind."

"I suppose," Ron said. "But it's just so—frustrating…"

"Let's go get ready for St. Mungo's. Maybe Harry will be awake when we get there." Hermione suggested. They pulled on their cloaks and went to find the rest of the Weasleys.

In the waiting room, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mr. And Mrs. Weasley all waited anxiously until they were called in to visit Harry.

"Why is it that every waiting room in the whole universe seems to have old, out of date issues of Wandlights! Does anybody over the age of 3 even read this thing?" Ginny complained. "I mean look at the garbage in here: Find the hidden wands and brooms, fill in the blank spell puzzles, stupid stories about wizards and witches that find Bowtruckles in their backyards and write poems about them… How is this entertaining?"

"Hush up, Ginny, mind your manners – this is a public place, and I will not have you making a scene!" Molly Weasley looked distraught, but not focused on what was happening in front of her.

"Arthur Weasley and family? Mr. Potter is now accepting visitors. Room 262." The receptionist glanced up and nodded at them as they passed through the doorway.

The five walked down the hallway, counting up all the even numbers.

"242, 244, 246, 248…" Ron trailed off as he glanced again into Room 249, at a sleeping Draco Malfoy. Ron stared at him, wondering what had landed him there.

"Hurry up, Ron, we still have seven more rooms to go!" cried Hermione. Ron snapped his gaze away from Malfoy and jogged to keep up with the other four.

"262! This must be his room… I hope he's all right. Oh look, he's awake!" Hermione smiled weakly as she opened the door to Harry's room. "Hi Harry, we came to see how you were feeling. Ron owled me and told me you'd been hurt. I was so worried!" Hermione walked briskly over to the bed and gave her friend a hug.

"Glad to see you're doing better, mate. I'm really sorry about everything… I shouldn't have let you go on your own." Ron looked defeated.

"Don't worry about it Ron, it was my own fault if anybody's. I shouldn't have let my guard down like that. Don't blame yourself…" Harry said, trying to cheer his sullen friend up. "Anyway, the doctor said I'd be alright to go back for the start of school."

"That's wonderful, Harry! That way you won't have to catch up on any schoolwork." Hermione beamed.

Ron looked on as Hermione and Harry continued to talk, feeling out of place with his two friends. He had been feeling like this more and more lately. He was a third wheel to Harry and Hermione, who were growing closer and closer. Sometimes he felt like he had no one to talk to who really cared. He had even stopped telling the other two his secrets. He kept them all bottled up inside.

Turning, he walked out of the room. No one had even noticed as he left. He paced up and down the halls, eventually coming back to Room 249. Why was Malfoy there? What were those bandages doing covering his eyes? Ron shook his head to clear it. What was he thinking! Since when did he care about Malfoy, a boy who insulted his friends and family at every chance? Maybe it was since he lost those friends, Ron thought bitterly. He lowered his head and walked quietly back to Harry's room.