Chapter 6

When Draco woke up, Ron's arm was draped over him. He smiled and slid out from under him, careful not to wake him. He brewed himself a cup of coffee, which he quickly downed, and went to take a bath. While waiting for the tub to fill, he thought about Ron, who was still sprawled on the bed, ginger tresses poking out at angles. The bath full, the room full of steam, he stripped and slid into the soothing water. He laid his head back against the tile, resisting the urge to sleep. He didn't resist long. He gave in to his urges and soon was snoring.

Ron, still asleep, laid in the bedroom, dreaming of Draco, his blonde Adonis with steely eyes.

Silently and stealthily, a dark figure unlocked the door to their apartment, simply by tapping it with his wand. He entered the flat with ease, grinning heartlessly under his silver mask. "Fools." He muttered to himself in a soundless hiss, evil grin growing a bit larger. He was almost shaking in anticipation at this killing. He had wanted this for a long time. He grew nearer and nearer to the bedroom. He walked past the king size mattress where Ron was still asleep. He walked into the bedroom where Draco snoozed.

He tiptoed over, making no noises as his robes billowed behind him. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the sleeping blonde's forehead, but hesitated. Ron would be woken by the blast, and the killer would never be able to see fear in the eyes of his prey. Instead, he closed the door.

He pulled off his mask, hoping for his face to be the last thing he saw. He sneered and plunged Draco's head under the water, disturbing the serene surface.

Draco opened his eyes. Something was odd. He was under water, and unable to sit up. Panic hit him in waves so intense he screamed, letting a huge bubble of sound out of his mouth. Someone was holding him in, but he couldn't see who. The person holding him jerked him violently up. Draco tried to scream again, but the familiar face shoved a washcloth in his mouth.

"Shut your mouth, you ignorant ferret. You betrayed this family. You betrayed our Dark Lord, and for that you die." The thick man said, dunking Draco again, shoving him roughly in the bath tub. He hit his head hard against the porcelain. Reddish pink tendrils rose into the water around him. He was bleeding.

The man pulled him back up. "I'm following orders, but I've wanted to do this for a long time. You know why?" He pulled the washcloth out of Draco's mouth. "Try to scream and I kill your filthy ginger blood traitor too." Draco felt his body going limper, weaker. His lungs and nose were burning.

"Why? Why are you doing this, Uncle Rodolphus?" Draco whispered quietly, throat rasping.

Rodolphus sneered at him. "Stupid boy. I'm not your uncle. My wife may have blood ties to your mother, but I claim no relation to the likes of you." He spat. Draco winced as the harsh words bounced around in his head. His head felt heavy yet light at the same time. He could barely think. "I'm doing this because He would have wanted it. My Dark Lord. Bellatrix wants it too. She would want anything he would want. If I do this, she will love me more!" He dunked Draco again.

This time, Draco decided he didn't want to come back up. He closed his eyes and gave into the darkness creeping in the corners of his mind. Once he gave in, the darkness swarmed, encompassing his entire mind, his entire body. He couldn't feel, he just was. He couldn't help but smile as he was blanketed in a warm tranquility.

Rodolphus Lestrange apparated out of the flat, a whirl of dark smoke and then nothingness.

Ronald Weasley woke up and, upon seeing the light on in the bathroom, he entered cautiously and screamed. He screamed louder and higher than he had thought possible, and pulled Draco out of the tub, tears mixing with the bloody water.

He wrapped a flimsy towel around him and apparated them to St. Mungo's. Healers surrounded him instantly, pulled Draco from his arms, and rushed off in a flurry of white robes. Ron ran up to the receptionist and demanded to know where Draco's room was. She told him, very rudely, to sit down. He asked her again, this time raising his voice a bit.

"Calm down, sir, and have a seat!"

"My boyfriend may be dead and you're telling me to calm down? Bloody hell! Where did they find you?!"Ron shouted.

"Don't make me call security, sir."

Ron's face turned the same color has his hair. "Shove off." He walked up the stairs to the top floor, and bought himself a water to soothe himself and calm his nerves. Going back down, he spotted Neville, in a room. He remembered this. His parents were there, minds gone. Should he stop in to say hello or would that be inappropriate? It was too late to decide. Neville had seen him.

He came out of the room and pulled Ron into a hug. He smiled at him but his smile faded. "Ron, why're you here? What's happened?" Ron's lip trembled and he had to struggle against the tears.

"It's Draco… he… He may be dead. He drowned, and I don't think he did it himself…"

Neville gasped, going pale. "So you're saying someone... tried to, to... kill him? But why?"

"There are still Death Eaters out there, Neville, and I doubt they like him much." Ron said softly, looking down the hall at a deranged-looking Guildroy Lockhart. Lockhart gave him a little wave, smiling his once-famous smile. Two nurses, one very grim with large muscled arms and the other pretty and young with a pitying look, pulled him away into a room down the hall.

Neville, who had been watching with Ron, turned back to Ron with a look that he never remembered seeing in Neville's eyes at Hogwarts: a dark, hardened look, tinged with anger and bitterness.

` "Death Eaters never quit. They are content with killing people, ruining children's lives for fuck's sake, torturing m-my parents in front of me!" Neville's angry tone was filled with emotion, but his tear filled eyes really made his case. "They do whatever they think Y-… Voldemort would want them to, never thinking of repercussions. Only themselves." He shook his head. "Sorry Ron. I just… I know how you feel okay?"

Ron smiled weakly at Neville. He had changed so much since first, second, third, hell, even 6th year, and it was good. His confidence had increased so much more. Ron, even though he seemed confident, never was. He envied Neville. Being raised with so many siblings wasn't good for Ron, and neither was being the 'greatest wizard of their time's wingman. But he pushed this out of his mind and made small talk with Neville. Small talk was better. Small talk he could handle.

It was nearly noon (they had entered the hospital at 8 o'clock exactly) when Draco was summoned to a small room in the hospital's non-magical injuries wing. For a long time, they didn't have one, but many wizards didn't like seeing Muggle doctors for things like cuts that would require stitching, severely broken limbs, severe non-magical burns, and other common ailments usually seen in Muggles' hospitals.

Ron rapped on the door tenaciously and a weak voice told him to come in. Draco lie on a small bed with rough white sheets. He gave Ron a week smile and a wave despite the small IV.

"Apparently they think I still look starved." Draco chuckled darkly, following Ron's gaze to the needle nestled in the crook of his arm.

Ron shook his head, causing a couple tears to fly onto the tile. "Shut up and kiss me. Make me know you're real, Draco." Ron walked closer and held the other man's hand like it was a fragile object of great age and value.

"Jesus, Weasley, I'm not a timebomb." Ron laughed and kissed Draco, a tear rolling down and falling onto their lips. Draco pulled away and wiped Ron's face. "Big baby." Draco winked, giving Ron's hand a playfully squeeze.

"Shut up, Malfoy."