EIGHTEEN: Spare

"There he is," Mad-Eye exclaimed, the moment Draco stepped through the door, his counterpart on his heels. The old ex-Auror's magical eye swung from one Draco to the other as he reached out to snag both boys' collars and drag them inside. The cottage door slammed closed with a quick non-verbal when he glared at it. "You are wanted for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, boy."

Draco peered past Mad-Eye. "You can examine my wand if you want. Cast Priori Incantatem." Bill was sprawled out on the floor, and Fleur was bandaging his arm, quietly clucking over the wound. Fred and George were shouting at each other while Charlie looked on; after a moment of tuning in, Draco realized they were reenacting their more glorious triumphs at the battle. Of Mr and Mrs Weasley or his own Ronald, there was no sign.

"Budge up!" came Ginny's voice from behind the door. Draco shifted forward to allow her and Ron entry, but Moody blocked their way. "Professor," Ginny said to Mad-Eye, then winced. "I mean, er… they aren't exactly going anywhere, are they?"

Moody waved his wand and muttered something under his breath. Draco was pretty sure it was something to ensure they weren't going anyplace, because it felt like a chain had looped around his ribcage.

Ron cast about, then frowned. "Where's Perce?"

Percy Weasley's name seemed to resonate around the room, leaving the entire cottage abruptly silent. Bill and Fleur looked up, Bill's left arm now covered with white gauze tucked neatly in place. Fred and George's waving arms slowed, then froze, and Charlie Weasley's expression went as flat as the closed door.

Ron blinked a few times and scanned the room again, as if he might have missed an entire brother the first go around. Moody clapped his paw to Ron's shoulder, and shook his head.

Ginny went white. "Is he… is he d-dead?" she stammered.

Charlie went to them, taking his younger sister in his arms. "No; no," he said. "Or… we don't know," he added, making sympathetic eye contact with Ron over the top of Ginny's trembling head. "He's gone."

One of the twins spoke up. "You don't suppose… he knew what would happen? That he – lowered the wards on purpose?"

"Yeah," said the other. "Even Perce isn't normally that slow."

Draco saw Bill's features close off, and saw Fleur draw closer to him, place her hand carefully on his knee, like she was afraid he might shatter if she pressed.

"Constant vigilance!" Moody barked, and the younger people in the room all jumped. "We can't rule it out. If your brother tries to contact you – any of you – you must let an Order member know, immediately."

"We always knew he was different to the rest of the family," one twin said,

"…but we didn't think…" the other trailed off. They eyed each other mournfully.

Draco was half-convinced that Ron would stand up for his brother the way Ronald had for him; but this world's Ron just looked angry, and lost.

"Where is Ronald?" Draco said, stepping forward. He eyed the grizzled old Auror, but the man seemed willing to let him pass. "Is he all right?"

Another ominous silence greeted Draco's words. He felt cold all over. "He – he did wake up, right?" he said. His voice sounded shriller than he'd expected.

Draco felt fingers press to his shoulder; he looked up to find Bill gazing at him with a pinched expression. Draco's eyes traced the faint scars on the other man's face for a moment. Even with his best efforts, Bill hadn't gone entirely unmarked.

"'E is in our bedroom," Fleur said at Bill's side. "Molly and Arthur are with 'im, and Madame Pomfrey. But there is leetle change," she said in a low, soothing voice. She looked up to meet her husband's eyes. "I will take you to him," she added.

Fleur skirted around the circular fireplace that rose up from the center of the room, then led the way to a hallway on the seaward side of the house; Draco followed. As they moved to pass the twins, one boy raised a hand up to block Fleur's way.

"You're going to let Death Eaters in to see Ron?" he rasped. "Haven't they done enough?"

"George," Fleur said – and for a moment, Draco marveled at the way her tongue curled around the name, and also – Death Eaters, plural? – he hadn't realized that Malfoy was right behind him – "Can you not see when others are grieving?" She shot George a quick, assessing glance. "But if it worries you, then you must come along."

She eyed the arm before her in a way that reminded Draco sharply of Narcissa, and George dropped it as though she'd cast a nonverbal Stinging Hex. He followed readily enough though, trailing behind Malfoy.

The little procession made its way down a short hallway studded with circular windows on the sea-side, and doorways along the other: powder room, closet, bedroom. Draco could hear the sound of hushed voices before they entered.

Mr Weasley stood at the door, face white as milk. "Come in, come in," he said, "but be quiet, please. Pomfrey is working." Fleur leaned towards Mr Weasley to clasp his shoulder and whisper into his ear; then, she wove through the press of the younger boys to slip back to her husband.

Draco's heart leapt when he saw that Madame Pomfrey was indeed in the room, standing at the foot of a large bed with a dark red throw cast over it, incanting under her breath, wand weaving the air. Mrs Weasley sat in a rocking chair under one of the cottage's many circular windows, the baby in her arms. The baby was once again asleep, although its red cheeks and wet lashes told Draco that this was a recent development. The entire room was silent, breathless, watching Pomfrey work.

Then, Madame Pomfrey's shoulders slumped and she moved aside, revealing most of the bed that dominated the room. Draco's heart leapt up into his throat, and he took a few steps forward before he quite knew what he was doing.

Ronald lay, face up, limbs carelessly arranged, as though he had dropped from the sky to land on the bed any which-way. Something about the way he lay – the silence or stillness of it, or else that careless posture – made it immediately clear that he was not peacefully sleeping, but comatose. Unreachable. Someone had thoughtfully closed his eyes, but Draco could still see the other boy staring through him whenever he blinked. Ronald's face was cream white – his lips were white – his nail beds and the crease between his eye and nose was a blue that made him look long-dead.

"Oh, Merlin," he heard a moan behind him. He turned to Malfoy, lips parted to say some stupid, comforting thing, but he froze when he caught sight of the other boy. Malfoy looked as though he ought to be laid out beside Ronald. His eyes were wide with horror, his face was white, and Draco could feel the panic rising in the other boy.

He pushed down his own looming dread. "It's okay. Madam Pomfrey'll fix it," Draco said, firmly, looking up at the older witch.

Madam Pomfrey's hands twitched at her sides before going loose again.

Mrs Weasley stood, bouncing the baby in her arms. "Madame Pomfrey?" she said.

The other witch swept at her cheeks with both hands, wiping the moisture onto her apron, then turning to Mrs Weasley with would-be calm. "I cannot… this is beyond my skill. I don't recognize the curse. I haven't seen it's like. It's new, or else very old."

Arthur shook his head. "I haven't seen anything like it at the Ministry, either. Strange new curses, you hear things, working where I do. But nothing about a spell that mimics Draught of the Living Death."

"That was just what I thought!" Pomfrey exclaimed. "That it might be a poison rather than a curse. But Ginevra specifically said that she saw a curse hit the young man from behind…"

The room fell silent.

"Snape would know," Malfoy said.

Draco turned to stare. Talk about ways to silence a room; the entire bedroom had gone quiet as a tomb. Which was not a simile Draco wanted to think about, with Ronald looking like he did.

"Well, you know he could," Malfoy blurted, bright splashes of color blooming on his cheeks. "He could figure this out, easy, he always ran circles around you lot."

"Clearly," Arthur Weasley said, dragging a weary hand down his face.

It took Draco longer than it should have to realize that everyone in the room still thought Severus Snape was a loyal Death Eater. He held his tongue; it was one thing for Harry, Hermione and Ron to know about Snape. It was another for everyone in this room to know. He thought Mrs Weasley could be trusted, weirdly, and of course Madam Pomfrey; but he couldn't help but think that Mr Weasley might tell someone else in a very well-meaning but not very well-reasoned way, and George –

"Snape's a traitor!" Malfoy shouted, voice squeaking a bit at the end with – what? Frustration? His counterpart's emotions were too volatile for Draco to even begin to untangle them. "You're all such fools, such blind fools," he said, and the panic in his mind made Draco think that any moment he'd be speaking in tongues. Surely no one could be that frantic and remain coherent. "He only killed Dumbledore so I wouldn't have to, h-he threatened my family, of course I wanted to be able to do it, but in the end I'm just a coward, so I couldn't," he went on, words tripping over each other. "But Snape made an Unbreakable Vow, to protect me, to help me if I failed, because my mother begged and cried, because that's what she does, she can make anyone do anything," he said, breathless now. "But if we call him, he'll save Ron's life, because that's what he does, or are you all so used to thinking Gryffindor, good; Slytherin, evil, that you're unwilling to take the chance?" And he stood there, breath huffing, fists clenched, scanning the room with a heartbreaking combination of desperation and defiance.

"We cannot take the chance," said Mad-Eye from the doorway. Draco hadn't even heard him approach. "We can't pin the hopes of saving one boy on a known Death Eater and murderer, not when it would risk the lives of everyone here."

Draco could feel Malfoy's mind turn, like the gears in a clock. "Right. Of course you're right," he said, nodding decisively. "We'll Apparate away. Anyplace else. Snape could meet us there. No one else has to be in danger," he added, fierce. "Draco and I can go," he said, gripping Draco's upper arm, tight enough to bruise. "I understand," he added suddenly, "being afraid. You don't have to risk yourselves."

Draco put his own hand atop his counterpart's and squeezed, but the other boy didn't seem to notice it, so focussed he was on Moody's answer.

"You aren't to leave this place, Malfoy," Mad-Eye said. His focus widened to include Draco. "Either of you. You're bloody well under arrest."

Malfoy stared at him, and Draco felt his counterpart's mind go worryingly empty.

"Besides, you could lead Snape right back here," George said, but he seemed as though he were asking rather than telling.

Malfoy snapped back to sparking life, as though he were an enchanted object just come to hand. Draco could feel his rage drawing back like the pull of the tide before a tsunami.

"Well," Malfoy said. "You lot don't care, do you? You've got a spare."

George snapped back like Malfoy'd punched him. "That's not –"

"That's it," Malfoy spat. "You lot couldn't give a fig, could you? He isn't yours, he doesn't matter, does he? He's not worth the risk, is he?"

"Draco," Draco said, quiet. "That's enough."

Mrs Weasley began sobbing, suddenly, into the silence that Malfoy left behind.

"Fuck," Malfoy swore. "Fuck it, and fuck you all," he swore, whirling on Draco. "Don't think I don't feel it, your concern, your worry I'm fucking it all up for you! Turn it where it belongs, why don't you?" he shouted, swinging his arm to the bed where Ronald lay, quiescent. "Or don't you care, either? Is he or isn't he really your best friend? Is he or isn't he the only reason you didn't end up just. Like. Me?" he snarled.

Draco stared into his own stormy eyes, willing himself to speak, to find the right thing and say it, but he didn't know, didn't know what it was that could make this okay –

Malfoy made a sound like a boiling kettle, exasperation and despair flooding through the link in equal measure, and stormed from the room – "Out of my way," he hissed, and the crowd immediately parted around the doorway to allow him through. Moody snorted, and followed.

Draco realized there were tears standing in his eyes only when one wet his cheek. "Oh," he said, sweeping it away. "Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley, he didn't mean it. I know he didn't," he said.

"Shut it," George said. "Stop being so nice, Malfoy."

"Okay. Sorry," Draco repeated, taking a shaky breath.

George stared, and Draco lifted his head, staring back. Suddenly, George's expression shifted from wariness to something else entirely, something Draco was at a loss to interpret.

"It's all right, Draco, dear," Mrs Weasley was saying, wiping under her eyes. "I know you didn't mean it."

Me? I didn't? Draco thought.

"I must be getting back to Hogwarts," Madam Pomfrey said. She eyed Draco. "Two of you explains a lot, Mister Malfoy."

"Yes," Draco said. He wasn't sure what else to say. He felt as though his entire world had been picked up by some giant hand and rattled.

"You're the one who saved Bill Weasley's life," she added, eyeing him.

Draco shrugged.

"Well," she said, straightening skirts that didn't need straightening, turning to address the room as a whole. "I will keep doing research, of course, and let you know immediately if I find anything."

Mrs Weasley nodded, disconsolate, and Arthur moved to shake Pomfrey's hand. "Thank you so much, Poppy," he said, features drawn into grim lines. "We're always grateful for your assistance."

"Of course; of course," she said, patting the hand which still gripped her own. "You'll be the first to know when I learn anything new." She left the room in a flurry of skirts and determination.

Draco realized he was staring at Ronald, and wondered how long ago Madame Pomfrey had left. The passage of time felt funny, all stretched out and also somehow collapsed, like a tent without its supports. He clapped both hands to his mouth, helplessly. What could he do – what was there to do? Mrs Weasley moved to stand beside him, one strong arm holding the baby to her hip. After a moment, her free hand rose to tangle with his, and squeezed.

Mr Weasley came up behind them and put an arm around his wife. "Come away, love," he said, in a soft, intimate voice that immediately made Draco feel he should be elsewhere. "We're not doing anybody any good here, are we? Come away."

Mrs Weasley nodded, but her eyes never left Ronald's face.

"Come now, Draco," Arthur Weasley said, and Draco's eyes leapt to the older man's face in shock. "We need to do something productive, don't we?"

"Y-yes. Sir," Draco said, and tugged on Mrs Weasley's hand. He looked up to find that George was still standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall. He regarded the three of them with a complicated expression.

"Come along, Mollywobbles," Arthur said, leading her away with an arm around her shoulders. Molly nodded tightly, lips pressed together with grief. Draco went ahead of them to hold the door for Mrs Weasley, who had shifted to hold the baby with both arms.

Ron stood in the hallway.

Draco felt as though he'd been drenched in a bucket of icy water. His eyes traveled from the top of Ron's brilliantly orange head, to his dark blue eyes, to the curve of his nose and the sweep of his lips, down to his chin, across his clavicle, down his shoulders, broad, and the dangling arms he hadn't yet grown into, finishing at the tips of his long fingers with knobby knuckles, dusted with hair and sienna freckles. He heard himself make a funny sound, and then he'd taken a half-step forward, and then suddenly he was clutching at Ron with all of his strength.

"Oof!" Ron said, but brought his own arms up fast enough. "Okay. Okay," he said, and brought one hand up to the back of Draco's head, where he'd hooked it over Ron's shoulder. "It's all right." He lowered his voice. "It took Malfoy the same way, only… he cried. So, if you want to, that's okay. I don't mind it."

Draco couldn't. Already, he was gathering himself, marshaling his forces and drawing up his reserves. After a moment, he straightened. "We're blocking the way," he said.

"Yeah," Ron sighed. He peered over Draco's shoulder. "I'll thank you to put that look away," he snapped, and tugged Draco forward.

Draco looked behind, even as Ron was yanking him, and saw George's face. His stomach flipped as he thought of what George would tell Fred and, sure enough, when they emerged again into the living room, George made immediately for where Fred and Bill were sitting.

Ginny was sprawled out on the floor with a large piece of parchment in front of her, wand in hand, but she scrambled to her feet at the sight of her parents emerging from the bedroom. Draco watched the colour drain out of her already-pale features, and sighed.

"Let's move to the kitchen," Bill said, seeing everyone gathered together again. "We can expand the table and talk there." He walked towards the only other doorway in the living room to a large, modern kitchen that was indubitably charmed to be bigger on the inside; impressive magic for something so large as an entire room. Bill lifted his wand to charm a small table for two to fit everyone who had come spilling into the room, when Mad-Eye spoke up. "Order members only," he rasped.

"Come on!" Fred shouted. "George and I are of age..."

"And you aren't Order members as of yet. Run along," Mad-Eye ordered, his magical eye spinning in his head. "Go find Malfoy if you're so keen to do something useful."

Ron and Ginny grumbled to themselves, but it appeared that they knew better than to shout at Mad-Eye. Draco watched with a sinking heart as some of his staunchest allies rose from the expanding/contracting table and moved to leave the kitchen. At least Mrs Weasley and Bill wouldn't want him or his counterpart thrown in Azkaban straightaway.

"This is ridiculous," Ginny said as they all moved back to the living room and flopped on the semicircular windowseats that lined the walls. "We're in this, there's no use saying we're too young or too inexperienced. It isn't as though we have a choice, is it?"

"So why didn't you speak up when I did?" Fred said.

Draco was surprised to realize that, even though he'd lost sight of the two boys as he got lost in his own thoughts – even though they were wearing identical jumpers – it was no longer impossible to tell them apart.

"Well, maybe I figured it wasn't worth the trouble of an argument if no one was going to give in," Ginevra grumbled.

"And you?" Fred said, arms crossed, glaring at his twin.

George grinned. "I figured we could have our own meeting, didn't I? Away from prying eyes."

Fred's grin grew to match his brother's.

Except it didn't, quite, Draco decided. Fred's was a little more crooked, wasn't it?

"So," said George, raising his wand. Everyone scrabbled for theirs, casting multiple Muffliatos in a tight circle. George turned to Draco, who blinked.

"Y-yes?" Draco stammered. The Weasley twins were a little scary, really, even before the evidence of Fred's ready hexing. The blood was still flaking off his arm.

George licked his lips. "All right," he said, very fast. "Uh, so you figure Snape could help? Or was that just your raving twin?"

"What," said Fred.

"Oh!" said Ron.

"You're kidding," said Ginevra.

"Yes," said Draco. "He'd help. I'm sure of it."

George nodded, eyes going fierce.

Fred whipped his wand around. "Are you lot mad?" he shouted.

"Hush!" Ginny ordered. "Muffliato only goes so far!"

"Are. You. Lot. Mad?!" Fred whispered.

"Yes. Yes," George said. "We're mad. Ron's dying. We'd do anything."

Ron, sitting across from his brothers, went bright red in the face.

"You believe me," Draco said flatly. "Him – us."

"I don't know!" George hissed. "I don't know what to – but I saw Malfoy. I saw you."

"And then there's Necto fiddes," Ron said. "He can't be plotting against us. He literally can't."

Draco couldn't believe he'd forgotten that – that his counterpart had. "That would've been a good argument to use," he said faintly.

"Necto fiddes?" Ginny said.

"It's a fealty spell," George said. He narrowed his eyes at Draco. "You're under a fealty spell?"

"To who?" Fred demanded.

"To me," Ron said, quickly. "It means he can't work against me. So Draco has to be telling the truth, as he understands it." Draco noticed he left out the part about not being able to plot against *any* member of the Weasley clan.

"Blimey," said George.

"All right," Fred said. "So long as you didn't muck it up, Ronniekins."

Ron turned red all over again. "Hey!"

"But trusting Snape's another matter," Fred went on. "He killed Dumbledore! He led the Death Eaters into Hogwarts!"

Ginny nodded. "Look, Malfoy, I can just barely get on board with sitting next to you without expecting a hex at my back. But Snape? I can't see how getting killed is going to help…" She floundered a moment. "…your Ronald!"

"Malfoy seemed pretty confident Snape'd do it," George said.

"Malfoy always seems confident!" Fred exclaimed. "With his pureblooded nose in the air, and his bloody wand up his…" he snuck a look at Draco, and frowned. "The point is, Gin's right. We want to save… Ronald. Doesn't mean we're ready to die."

"But Malfoy had an answer for that," Draco interjected.

Ginny and the twins looked a bit taken aback. "Weird to hear you say that," Fred grumbled.

"Whatever you like, him, the other one," Draco corrected impatiently. "You lot don't have to go."

"Then who will? It's not as though you can do it," Ginny said, reaching toward him…

Draco gasped. She'd tugged on the magical chain that Moody cast around his ribcage as if it were a physical entity.

"I see things," she said with a shrug, as though she hadn't just demonstrated a magical talent he'd never noticed in any other witch or wizard. "In any case, neither of you are leaving the grounds."

Which explained why no one seemed to care where Malfoy had gone, Draco realized, heart sinking: it was because he couldn't have gotten far.

As if the thought had Summoned him, Malfoy came crashing through the front door, slamming it behind him so hard that it rattled on its hinges. He stared at the assembled group with such blazing fury that Draco found himself pulling back, even though he could feel the hurt and horror thrumming beneath the rage. There were ten seconds of dead silence as Malfoy stared each of them down in turn.

"I'll do it," George said, then winced, as though he hadn't known he was going to speak at all.

Fred hissed at his twin, something too low to hear.

"No, I'll do it," George repeated, stronger. "It's Ronniekins, and Draco can't betray him, and… then it's just one person we're risking. One person for one person isn't so bad."

"You can't," Fred choked out. "Everyone'll know you're missing."

George stared at him.

Fred sighed. "No, they won't," he grumbled, and Draco realized Fred could impersonate his brother, walking in and out of the cottage frequently enough that one boy could easily be mistaken for both.

"I'll go with you," Ron said.

"No you bloody well won't," Fred snapped. "You would be missed, you idiot."

Of course he would, Draco thought; Mrs Weasley would be looking for him every second. He could barely keep his eyes from straying to Ron's face.

Draco turned to look up at Malfoy, who stood frozen by the doorway, staring at the twins. The blond-haired boy blinked, shook himself. "All right, cast your Patronus," he said, turning to Draco. "Send it to Snape. Tell him Ron is hurt and suggest a place to meet."

Draco drew his wand and cast; a white ermine leapt forth from its tip.

Malfoy made a funny, squeaking sound.

"Is that a ferret?" Fred asked.

Draco frowned. "No; it's an ermine, though I guess I see the resemblance." He glared at Fred. "I don't see how anyone named Weasley should be casting any stones."

"No, no," Fred said in a choked voice. "Carry on."

"I will," Draco replied, then turned to the lithesome creature. "I have a message for you to carry to Severus Snape," he said.

It took a few Patroni back and forth before they could agree on a meeting point that George knew well enough to find via Apparition, and that Snape thought was safe enough for prolonged discourse: the Shrieking Shack.

"Are you sure you're not going to tell him who to expect?" Ginny asked. "Only, if you don't, I worry about my brother's head being hexed clean off his shoulders."

"D'you really think he'll notice?" George said. "I think we Weasleys are all the same to him, anyhow. He must've called me Fred more often than any of our other professors, even when we had separate classes."

"If we say it's not me or Draco going, he'll just refuse to show up," Ron said. "He's not going to agree to reveal himself to anybody new without a by-your leave." He quirked a sympathetic grin at his brother. "Expect a real performance."

Fred and George winced in eerie tandem. "More than normal, like?" George squeaked.

Draco sighed. "Professor Snape's reputation is literally his life. Think about it."

Ginny threw her arms around his neck. "Don't let him intimidate you," she said.

"Don't let Severus Snape intimidate me. Check," George replied.

"She's right," Draco said. "Just… kind of… ignore what he says, and focus on what he does."

"Huh. Ace advice, actually," Ron said.

"Don't fuck this up, Weasley," Malfoy said. "Or your little brother will die. How's that for motivation?"

"Fuck off, Malfoy," George said companionably.

Fred glowered at him. "I still think this is so, so daft. The daftest thing you've ever done."

"That's saying something, isn't it?"

"Bloody well do it right, then, and come back," Fred said. "I still wish I was going with you."

"Two of us? Snape'd hex the pair of us on sight."

"And you think one of us's any different?"

George grinned. "Only one way to find out."

A/N: Helloooo everyone! Hello? Are any of you still around?

Okay, so as my profile says, I'm writing original fic, and so my fanfiction has slowed to a crawl. But that's not the only reason this one was so long in coming. Just like last chapter, this was one I was kind of dreading writing; there were so many characters, and I knew I needed to give what would feel like a genuine emotional reaction for each of them. I went through - and I am not joking or exaggerating - seven separate versions of this chapter before this one. That's 'and now for something completely different, let's try again' versions, not edits.

Then I went to this writing conference a few weeks ago, and felt like I leveled up. I went home and wrote this chapter in one sitting. And I've already written the next chapter, too! It really is part and parcel with this one thematically, because we're about to follow George to his meeting with Snape. Won't that be fun?

Coming up after George's meeting will be how Harry's team is doing, and then we're going to see a bit of Narcissa and Charity again...

On the rec front, I found a decent rec list myself recently, and found a number of excellent fic. Subscribe to my C2 if you're interested in excellent fic. One of those was The Strange Disappearance of SallyAnne Perks, by Paimpont, found here on ff-dot-net. The story takes a canon error - the description of FIVE Hufflepuff girls in first-year, followed by four mentioned thereafter - and elaborates her 'disappearance' into a very compelling story. Great mystery, marvelous characterization of all three of the Trio, and a well-realized ending that may surprise you. Although it's quite well-known, with over 1000 reviews, I'd never seen it recc'd before, so maybe you have not either.

Another chapter and another rec next week, folks!

I have many fic in the works, and my motivation is directly proportional to your interest, so please review if you're interested in seeing more. I hope you guys are having a marvelous summer, and reading and writing incredible things!

-K