In our latest act: Draco and Tabitha share their feels, eagle owls are snobby, midnight emergencies are afoot, the prodigal heros return, and so do some guilty parents.
Honestly, Tabitha wasn't sure how Draco ever managed to craft his elixir by himself. She considered herself pretty good with potions but, any way she cut it, she found this to be a two person job. As the refined mixture of steeped Moly, along with a few other odds and ends, was finally ready (after days and days brewing) to be dripped out in its entirety, it had to go into a freshly cleaned cauldron. A cauldron that had been scourgified and left to sit a few days previously wouldn't do; there could be no chance of contamination. So, before the process began she had waved her wand, with extra careful attention and focus, to clean everything while Draco looked the steeped Moly mixture with a keen eye for clouding.
He was grumbling softly to himself. She checked over her shoulder.
"I suspected it would be," he said to himself before acknowledging her with the briefest second of eye contact, "Cloudy, I mean. It's not quite right."
Tabitha looked at it from where she stood. Though a blackish-purple in color, it looked perfectly translucent to her. She didn't say anything.
"We'll continue though," he said, "Accio cauldron," he added lazily and the small cauldron she'd just finished waving her wand over flew into his outstretched hand.
Tabitha readied herself, this is where things got tricky enough to need two people — at least, in her opinion.
The Moly elixir began to drip steadily in the cauldron and, immediately, she began to lightly muddle some belladonna in a mortar and pestle. Belladonna was usually poisonous but, when used freshly and added at the appropriate temperature it was safe. And, apparently, necessary for this new batch of Draco's potion though she couldn't even hazard a guess as to why.
Draco watched her silently with a critical piercing gaze. She knew it couldn't be too crushed or there was a chance it what melt into the potion completely — also dangerous.
"That's enough," he stopped her. He picked up a few of the lavender belladonna flower petals and sprinkled them into the Moly elixir. "Incendio," he muttered and a flame sprung to life on the end of his wand. He used it to heat the underside of the cauldron, peering deep inside its depths searching for… what? Tabitha gazed inside as well, searching for what he was. She finally saw the tiniest of bubbles break the surface and Draco removed the flame.
At this point he rolled up his sleeves and picked up a slotted wooden spoon to manually remove the Belladonna leaves. As Tabitha was staring in wonderment at how quickly Draco worked, Draco was feeling self conscious about the fact that he'd asked her for help when he clearly didn't need it. Ironic, he thought, remembering their encounter at Hogwarts.
"You can bottle it," he said, "We're done." He leaned back onto a counter behind him watching as she used her wand to summon flasks and a funnel, expertly pouring the potion out of the cauldron without needing to truly exert herself.
"Will you be giving it to the Longbottoms?" she asked after she'd added a stopper.
"No, they'll need a much more refined version at this point in their treatment," he said, "We'll keep this around for anyone else unfortunate enough to be hit by Dark Magic. If the Moly mixture had been completely clear before we added the Belladonna… maybe."
Draco uncrossed his arms and leaned back onto his palms on the counter. His sleeves were still rolled up and Tabitha's eyes couldn't help but alight on his bright red brand: the Dark Mark. He followed her eyes and instantly his lips curled into a snarl as he pushed his sleeves back down rapidly.
"I'm sorry," she began, "Wait…" She rolled up her own left sleeve where the same sigil was imprinted. "My Aunt Liri told me I was the only baby to ever get one, I don't even remember… I was so young."
Draco considered her, a frown still etched into his features. "He got lax about it towards the end of the war," he said, "Used to be reserved for the inner circle, started using them as a means of intimidation, proof of loyalty. Still it doesn't make sense that a baby-"
"-My father probably begged him," she interrupted, turning her back to him suddenly to pick up the bottled potion and re-clean the cauldron with a quick flick of her wand. "I didn't know him, obviously, at all. But he was fiercely loyal, I know that much. It was probably some stupid reward for some disgusting thing he did."
She stopped herself suddenly, a blush creeping onto her features. She had no idea how Draco—her current boss—felt about his past. She had hoped to tread lightly at this new job and here she was probably ruining any chance at a second research opportunity by insulting her boss.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean… I never had to-"
"Don't apologize," he said holding up a hand, "It was disgusting, all of it. At least I knew that. Your father… my father, they didn't."
She nodded and crossed the room to place their newly made potion in a storage cabinet. "Still, I escaped most of it. I can't imagine-"
"You shouldn't have to," Draco said with a shrug.
"Well, I'm sorry for what you've been through all the same."
He looked down at the floor when she said that but nodded. She waited a moment to see if he'd do or say anything else but he made no motion.
"Well, if that's all…"
"Yes, Dolohov. Good work today," he said.
"Thank you for asking me to help tonight. It was an incredible opportunity," Tabitha said.
He just nodded again so she head out of the room, feeling very peculiar. Had she ruined her work experience by getting too personal? Or had she actually made Draco Malfoy feel a little bit better?
An insistent rapping at her flat window in London, just a few hours later, woke Tabitha abruptly.
"Lumos," she murmured groggily, grasping for her wand at the side of the bed. Clutching it, she guided the light to the window where an enormous eagle owl was tapping its beak with great impatience and fluttering its wings in agitation. Clasped in its beak was a letter sealed with emerald wax.
Tabitha opened the window and the owl flew in gracefully, dropping the letter into her lap and promptly landing on her bedside table where it proceeded to drink from her glass of water without asking.
She broke the wax and unfolded the letter. It was short and the ink smeared as if written hastily.
St. Mungo's — NOW. Emergency.
-Draco
Tabitha flew out of bed to begin pulling on some close. Despite the anxiety clenching in her stomach, she was all too aware of how her heart fluttered into her throat upon realizing he'd signed it with his first name. The owl hooted at her impatiently, wanting to know if there'd be a reply.
"No, just go! No time to reply!" she shouted.
If owls could roll their eyes… it looked her over with disdain before flying out the window with a single great flap of its wings, unceremoniously knocking her water to the floor. She was too rushed to even care.
Quickly tying her hair up into a ponytail and grabbing her lime-green St. Mungo's jacket, she was out the door in less than five minutes. She felt too groggy to properly apparate and ran to the nearest disguised wizarding pub where she could use the Floo Network.
She arrived to a scene of absolute chaos. Just as she stepped onto her ward, Alexei was beside her.
"Do you know what's going on?" he asked.
"Just that it's an emergency," she responded, rushing to the emergency center of the ward. She could make out the top of Draco's head in the distance.
"You cannot take care of him!" a man's voice with shouting, "Not bloody Draco Malfoy!"
Some security staff members were doing their best to hold back a red-headed man whom Tabitha recognized immediately as Ron Weasley.
"Can we get a different Healer, please?" none other than Hermione Granger was pleading next to them, "He needs help now."
"Then I'm afraid you'll have to trust Healer Malfoy!" Tabitha said, stepping into the fray forcefully, "He's the best Healer against the Dark Arts that we've got, and I assume that's what you're here for. All of Healer Malfoys patients receive top quality care, I assure you!"
Something about the sharp ring of her voice, broke up the ensuing insanity and Ron backed off in his efforts to attack Draco, who was doing a very poor job of disguising his cringing due to Ron's flailing fists.
"Where is the patient?" she asked, snapping her supervisor back into reality.
"Here," he said and they both approached a bed behind Ron and Hermione where—Tabitha almost couldn't believe her eyes—Harry Potter was laying beaten, bloody, and bruised.
"Get details," Draco ordered at her vaguely as he began to wave his wand over Harry, checking for badly broken bones or internal bleeding.
"What happened? Do you know what spell hit him?" she asked Ron and Hermione.
Ron literally growled in frustration and anger. Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as she responded, "The Cruciatus Curse… only a few minutes under the curse but he was mumbling incoherently before he blacked out," she said.
"The Death Eaters, they're back. And one of them is fixing to kill Harry right now!" Ron shouted, ready to pounce on his old enemy once again.
"Save it for the Ministry, Mr. Weasley!" Tabitha shouted at him, "Healer Malfoy, you may have heard, has recently cured the parents of a good friend of yours. I can assure you Mr. Potter is in good hands."
"The elixir, Dolohov! The one we made today, get it. His damage isn't extensive," Draco ordered.
"I need to fetch something to heal your friend. Do I have your word that you will not attack Healer Malfoy in the meantime?" she asked.
Ron narrowed his eyes at her but Hermione nodded. "Yes, go, please."
Tabitha rushed out and was back with the elixir in a second. At Draco's side, she waiting as he carefully opened Harry's mouth and dripped just a small amount of the potion in. In just a matter of seconds, he regained consciousness.
"Here," Draco said handing her the bottle, "Make sure he drinks the rest. He's about as likely to trust me as this one." He gestured towards Weasley with a thumb and walked out of the room.
"You're going to be alright Harry," she soothed, "You're at St. Mungo's. I'm going to give you something and I need you to swallow all of it, try to ignore the taste."
A still very out-of-it Harry nodded the slightest bit and winced as he gulped the elixir down. From her peripheral, Tabitha could see Ron still glaring at Draco as he walked out of the room. Hermione's gaze stood fixated on Harry as the dazed look in his eyes slowly lifted and he returned to his normal self.
Harry shaped up just fine within the hour, but he was put on bedrest for the rest of the evening just in case. Ron and Hermione had booked a room in Muggle London for the evening just down the street. Alexei had left the moment he realized he was not needed. And Tabitha was wandering around the ward trying to find Draco.
She was unsuccessful and, assuming he had left as well, she headed up to the Visitors' Tearoom for some chamomile before she returned to her own flat. There, she was quite surprised to find Draco with a pot of tea next to him. He was staring furiously into the bottom of his teacup.
"You're still here," she said, taking a seat across from him without needing to be asked.
He broke the staring contest with the cup and looked up at her with mild surprise as well. "You're still here," he countered.
"Granger needed a lot of reassurance," she sighed.
"Granger? Not Mrs. Weasley?" he asked.
"Oh were they an item?" she asked.
"Were?" he laughed, "I'd be surprised if they still aren't. Thought they'd be married by now."
Tabitha shrugged. "You're all still very young."
He nodded thoughtfully before dropping his teacup onto the table with a soft clatter. "I guess I forget that sometimes. But that's funny coming from you, you're… what?"
"Nineteen," she answered softly, "Accio teacup," she said, summoning a cup from behind the counter, where a staff member was falling asleep, and helping herself to some of Draco's tea. She could see tea leaves at the bottom of his own cup. He'd been staring at them.
"Nineteen," he said, practically pronouncing it as if it were two words. He seemed to think the age so young, though he himself was only twenty-four. He followed her gaze down to his cup. "I was never any good at Tessomancy," he said, referring to the bunches of tea leaves, "Or any part of Divination for that matter. Most of it's total crock."
She nodded in mixed-agreement. Still peering into his cup. From her angle she could almost make out the shape of a falcon — the sign of a deadly enemy. Given the evening's recent events, she thought it best not to mention.
"Draco," she said seriously, causing him to look her in the eye, "Did you hear what Ron Weasley said?"
"Yeah, I heard him," he responded, thickly.
"What do we do?" she asked.
"We let the Ministry figure it out. That's what Potter and his team of Aurors are for, after all," he said, sounding more sure than he felt. "It's not like You-Know-Who is back," he said, still scared of the name, "He's gone for good."
Tabitha nodded and sipped her tea thoughtfully. Her stomach was still tied up in knots. Draco could tell just from looking at her. Poor girl had never been good at disguising her emotions and her fear and anxiety was so palpable he swore he could feel it himself. Or maybe those were his own emotions.
"We both should head home," he said, "Only four or so more hours till we have to be back."
He stood up, his chair scraping behind him loudly in the abandoned tearoom. He began to walk away without any other pleasantries but her soft voice stopped him again.
"Goodnight, Draco," she said.
He paused but didn't look back. "Goodnight," he said firmly and walked off. It was only once he was out of the building that he even allowed himself to think… Tabitha.
Still inside the tearoom, Tabitha gulped down the rest of her cup and studied her own leaves for a moment. She saw another bird… one smaller, and less distinct. Perhaps a dove? A swallow? Either symbol, she remembered, foretold love. But in the dead center of her cup, very distinct indeed, was a large X of tea leaves. X stood for loss.
Draco had a lot more to be concerned about than he let on to Tabitha. Instead of going home for a few hours of pointless tossing and turning, he apparated straight to his parents' house.
"Father!" he shouted, storming up the great marble staircase in his childhood foyer, "Mother! I need to talk to you now!" He strode down the a lengthy hall decked in a sweeping dark green carpet. "Father!"
Ahead of him, two great double doors parted and his mother peeked her head out.
"Darling, is that you? It must be four in the morning!" she lamented but trudged out, clutching her robe closed with one hand but holding her other arm outstretched to embrace him. "Whatever is the matter?"
He allowed her the briefest of half-hugs and bent so she could give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. She'd become much more affectionate ever since he'd stopped coming to see them all but twice or so a year.
"You people, are the bloody matter," Draco hissed at her, "As usual."
His father appeared at the door also clothed in a bathrobe, clutching his staff. These days, Draco could see, he really was favoring it for genuine support rather than as a stylish accent. His father was getting old; surely he could not have been behind any of this.
"Draco, you have woken your mother and frightened her," his father began to admonish lightly. Ever since his sixth year at Hogwarts, with the impossible task and the resulting torture, he had never known his father to truly yell at him, so great was his guilt. Even better, now Draco was an adult. His father was just a wretched old man, he thought, with a sneer.
"She should be frightened," he said, stepping up to his father's face and towering over him now that his father's posture had begun to sag and droop, "Unless you two know all about what happened tonight. Which wouldn't bloody surprise me at all."
"Darling, whatever are you talking about?" his mother asked, lifting her hand to her son's face. Draco stepped backwards as if he'd been scalded and deep seated pain flashed through his mother's eyes.
"I was called into St. Mungo's this morning for an emergency. Harry Potter," he spat at his parents, "was hit by the Cruciatus Curse. And Ron Weasley was about to beat my face in because he said the Death Eaters were back."
His mother inhaled sharply. "But our marks, we didn't feel anything-"
"Well of course Voldemort isn't back!" he shouted, tempted to add "You stupid woman!" but still, relatively, in control of his temper. He did hate saying the name but it was nice to watch his parents flinch.
"It must be a resistance… or something to that effect," his father said softly, "But I can assure you, Draco, we knew nothing about it. You likely have more insight than we do."
Draco huffed in annoyance. Simultaneously relieved and annoyed that his parents couldn't tell him more. He kneaded his forehead in frustration with his fingers.
"After the battle…" he began, "No survivors ever sought you out? Contacted you at all?"
"No dear-" Narcissa began but he interrupted her.
"Because if they did! If they did, you would owe me the truth. For my own safety, at least. If that even matters to you," he yelled.
His mother's eyes began to well up in tears. And his father put a hand on her shoulder. "Of course it matters to us Draco," Lucius told his son. "More than anything."
Draco sighed and leaned back against the wall in the hallway. He was exhausted.
"Darling," his mother said, her voice quickly regaining its strength, "Why don't you just stay here tonight? It doesn't make sense for you to further strain yourself by apparating right now."
Draco could hear the desperate hope in her voice. And honestly, he was so tired he just wanted to drop into bed. "Fine," he said, "But I'm apparating to work first thing tomorrow morning."
He allowed her to kiss his cheek again before he head for his childhood bedroom. His father made no motion to touch him or say anything else, unsurprisingly. But he was too tired to care. He collapsed onto his huge emerald-canopied bed, still fully clothed, and fell asleep in just a matter of seconds.
Was this within a week? Close enough! Thanks again for your thoughts and reviews; it's how I get my motivation to continue. A good old-fashioned follow, to know their are people waiting for the next part, pumps me up too! Without all the lovely support, every time I sit down to write I would start chastising myself about all the real work there is to be done! Still, these stories are a fun reprieve.
I meant to make this a bit longer but honestly felt this was a good stopping point. Next chapter the adventure really picks up!