FIC: "See No Evil" R/D, NC-17, Part I
Title: See No Evil
Author: TheGiantSquid
Pairing: Ron/Draco, Ron/OMC; past Ron/Hermione, unrequited Ron/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After Draco is blinded in an accident that wasn’t quite an accident after all, Ron takes him in and soon discovers that not everything or everyone is as it seems.
Warnings: Character death (pre-story), rimming, clichés…
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but oh how I love to play with them. All mistakes are mine, too :-/
Author Notes: Mediwitches/wizards are the equivalent of nurses in this fic. Major thanks to mr_yer_on_fire and abigail89 for all their help in making this story happen, and a lot of love for tarie, because this is sooo late D: And to ceilidh, this is for you, my dear. You wanted plot and something you could sink your teeth into. I pray I delivered :) Written for sunandsmut.
Part I | Part II | Part III
“What the hell happened?” Ron demanded as he struggled to follow Tonks down a narrow corridor at St. Mungo’s.
“Explosion in the Potions lab,” she said, rounding a corner and continuing down the hallway. “Wesley Scott, the Potions master, was killed instantly. He took the brunt of the explosion, but Malfoy was still severely injured.”
“What are they?” Ron asked. “And why am I being called in for this? My specialty lies elsewhere-”
“The burns were very bad, as were the lacerations caused by the shattering glass,” Tonks interrupted breathlessly. “But the Healers on call were able to treat them. It’s his eyes, Ron.”
Before Ron could say another word, they had arrived at the special victims ward. Upon passing through the doors, he could immediately make out the anguished cries and groans coming from down the corridor.
“That him?”
Tonks nodded and began to lead him towards the room. “Everything’s healed except for his eyes. The combination of flying glass and the chemicals in the potions tore them up. He’s in so much pain, and generally being himself, that we can’t question him about the incident until he’s calmed down.”
“I’ll do my best,” Ron muttered just before entering Malfoy’s room. “Why hasn’t he been Stunned yet?” he barked to the nearest Healer, who recoiled slightly.
“We were waiting for you, sir,” she stammered.
With a grunt, Ron raised his wand, aimed it straight at Draco Malfoy’s heart, and uttered the words for the Stunning Spell. A second later, the room was finally quiet. Striding over to Malfoy’s bed, Ron began examining the patient while he listened to the man’s stats.
“Heart rate is normal, a bit accelerated due to the circumstances,” said the head Mediwitch, Florence Angels. “The burns are nearly completely healed, now, and the deepest of the lacerations have been taken care of. He had trouble breathing earlier, due to the smoke and other gases from the explosion and resulting fire. As you may have noticed, of course, Mr. Malfoy’s eyes took a direct hit. For some reason, he did not raise his hands to shield his face as most people instinctively do.”
Ron ran his wand over Malfoy’s body and pursed his lips when a light emanating from the tip turned red. “Who was the Healer in charge of Malfoy?” he asked Angels.
“O’Shaughnessy, sir.”
“Get her in here.”
Angels waved her wand and a streak of light shot out of the end. A few minutes later, Maureen O’Shaughnessy strolled into the room. Ron gritted his teeth before turning to face the woman.
“What’s the problem here, Healer Weasley?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Tell me, Healer O’Shaughnessy,” he began, turning back to Malfoy’s body and running his wand once more over the man’s closed eyes, “upon your initial evaluation, did you bother to run a full diagnostic scan?”
“Of course I did,” she said indignantly, striding forward and peering around Ron’s wide form. Judging from her slight gasp, however, he figured that she had missed that particular problem.
“Notice it now, do you?” he said softly. The red light slowly began to change to a more menacing black color. “Dark magic, O’Shaughnessy. Did you eve n stop to wonder why Mr. Malfoy was in so much pain? No, of course not, because he’s just a Malfoy, right?”
“I missed it,” she snapped, stepping back and crossing her arms. “A mistake, but it’s been corrected now, so if we could move on to the appropriate treatment-”
“No, I’m afraid that’s not it,” Ron informed her in a dangerous voice. Straightening up so that he could tower over her, he continued, “As I understand it, this explosion took place early this afternoon, around three. Correct?” A few Mediwitches nodded in agreement; Maureen sneered at him. “Then why did it take you five hours to seek my counsel, Healer O’Shaughnessy? You mean to tell me that you allowed Draco Malfoy to suffer like that for five hours? That’s bordering on cruel, Maureen.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me that way,” she hissed. “I did everything within my power and knowledge to heal that-that man. You’re lucky I didn’t let him perish-”
“Get out!” Ron thundered at her. Despite Maureen’s stubbornness, she knew Ron’s temper, and with a sniff, she twirled on her heel and flounced out of the room. Blowing out a relieved breath, Ron turned back to the remaining Mediwitches and said, “Well, what are you all waiting for? Let’s try to save this man’s sight,” and the room immediately erupted in noise and activity.
~*~
Several hours later, Ron found himself attacked by reporters the moment he exited Malfoy’s room. As he tried to fight the off, a patch of bright pink hair rescued him from the throng of people.
“You all right?” Tonks asked, looking concerned. Ron nodded and smiled gratefully. She smiled back and then motioned him to follow. Near the end of a deserted corridor, Ron could see Kingsley Shacklebolt waiting for them. The two men shook hands and then Tonks said, “Would it be all right if we ask you a few questions?”
“Sure.”
She nodded and flipped open a small notebook she had pulled out of a pocket. “Okay…Since we already know Malfoy’s going to recover from the explosion. So…When do you expect his vision to return?”
“I suppose it’s a question of whether it’ll return at all,” Ron replied slowly
Kingsley leaned forward and said, “What do you mean by that?”
Ron scrubbed at his face tiredly. He’d been working on Malfoy for several hours, and very little progress had been made in that time. “Since Scott was killed and Malfoy is currently unconscious, we have no clue what types of Potions they were working on at the time. I’ve already contacted Hermione to see if we could get access to the files, but it might be a while yet.” Ron took a deep gulp of much needed coffee. “Additionally, since I’ve detected some Dark magic embedded in the injuries around Malfoy’s eyes, some of those potions very well may have been, oh, dangerous or illegal in the first place, meaning that it’s unlikely that they would have documented those types of indiscretions.”
Kingsley nodded. “The explosion was Dark itself, so it’s possible that the potions may have been affected.”
Groaning slightly, Ron slumped against the wall behind him. “I was afraid of that.”
“Why?” asked Tonks.
Focusing on her pink hair, Ron began, “If what’s causing Malfoy’s blindness was brought on solely by Dark magic, then we’d bring in a team of specialized Healers. Me, for instance, but I’m not an expert at Dark magic; my job is to heal physically and mentally. But Malfoy’s injuries are a result of a combination of magic, volatile substances, and abrasions. Healing him is going to take a lot of time and a lot of patience.”
Tonks flipped her notebook closed and blew out a breath. “You’ll let us know when he’s awake and…more himself?” she asked.
Ron nodded. “Yes, of course...If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back in there. Good night, you two.”
“’Bye, Ron,” the two Aurors chorused, and Ron was left alone in the deserted corridor.
~*~
“Fancy meeting you here.”
With a start, Ron set down his shot of Firewhisky and looked up blearily. Standing over him was a slim, curly-haired blond man with light green eyes and a five o’clock shadow. Smiling slightly, Ron indicated for the man to sit down at his table. He was at the Leaky Cauldron currently trying to get as drunk as possible and still function as a human being.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink during the week,” the man commented quietly, eyeing the many empty shot glasses littering the table. Ron had to strain to hear the man’s words over the general roar of the Leaky Cauldron’s many guests and patrons.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had one hell of a day,” Ron said, proud that he wasn’t slurring. “I thought you were in Canada, Richie.”
Shaking his head and grinning, Richard Maus leaned forward and took a sip of the alcohol himself, shuddering as the fiery liquid burned down his throat. “Came back early,” he said, watching Ron closely. “The conference was boring as fuck and there were too many Americans for my taste. Besides, I was hoping for a quick shag.”
Ron snorted, but grinned despite himself. “No offense, Richie, but I’m afraid you came to the wrong bloke. I have one bitch of a headache and I don’t think I’d be much company.”
Richard frowned and leaned forward. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
Sighing, Ron sloshed the alcohol about in his glass for a moment before saying, “Just a long day. A former...acquaintance of mine was severely injured last night, and then I had to deal with incompetent Healers, Aurors up my arse every five seconds, and just general shite.”
“It was Malfoy, wasn’t it?”
Ron’s head shot up. “How’d you hear about that? I know it wasn’t on the wireless.”
“I stopped by the hospital not long after I arrived here, Ron,” Richard said, looking confused by Ron’s harsh tones. “They told me what happened. That’s why I came looking for you. I stopped by your flat, but when I saw you weren’t there, I began searching random pubs. Lo, here you are.”
“I’m sorry I snapped,” Ron mumbled, slumping down in his seat. “I s’pose I’m just stressed and tired and…”
“It’s all right,” soothed Richard, as he rubbed a hand up and down Ron’s jean-clad thigh. “I could help you de-stress,” he added in a whisper, settling his hand on Ron’s crotch.
Inhaling deeply, Ron took one last sip of the Firewhisky before rising out of his chair and grabbing Richard by the arm. After the two had stepped outside, Ron Apparated them to an alley behind the building of his flat. Richard didn’t let Ron move a foot, though, as he jerked the taller man against his body and kissed him hard.
~*~
The next morning, Ron woke up with a splitting headache and a feeling of contentment that he often associated with a great shag. Turning his head, he spied Richard’s naked form sleeping soundly on his bed.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“If you keep saying that word, I just might have to take you up on it,” came Richard’s muffled voice. Poking his head up from beneath a pillow, he squinted at Ron and said, “You look like hell. Go take a potion or something.” And with that, he was asleep again.
With a grunt, Ron rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of wrinkled pajama bottoms, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Spying the clock on the wall, he saw that it was just after eight in the morning. Not particularly looking forward to spending his day with Draco bloody Malfoy, Ron began to make a strong pot of coffee and rummage for some edible food. A loud whooshing noise, however, caused him to take his head out of the refrigerator and walk quickly into the living room just in time to see Harry fall out of his fireplace.
“Hey, mate,” said Ron, helping Harry to his feet, since he never did seem to get the hang of Flooing, which became especially difficult after he’d gotten his leg injury. “What the hell are you doing here so early?” Motioning with his hand, Ron led his best friend back into the kitchen. “I was just making breakfast, d’you want anything?”
“Some coffee would be great, thanks,” Harry replied, and then gulped down the scalding beverage as soon as Ron handed it to him. “I’m on Malfoy’s case,” he suddenly blurted. “Tonks and Kingsley had field work to do, thought I’d be best on the job. Dunno what the hell they were thinking. I’ve been up all night reviewing the accident and medical reports.”
“Were you now?” said Ron, raising his eyebrows. Ever since Harry’s accident two years ago, he’d been assigned to strict desk duty in an attempt to keep him at the Ministry. He’d become quite the investigator in those few short years. Ron knew that Harry was hoping to leave the Ministry soon and start his own investigation company, and hopefully, after he was settled, propose to Luna.
“Yeah.” Harry blew out a breath, then said, “Since you’re now his assigned Healer, I figured it was all right to go over a few things with you.”
“Sure, Harry. Just gimme a few minutes to dress and then we can talk about it over breakfast.”
Ron didn’t have a chance to leave the room, however, before Richard came sidling in wearing nothing but boxers and looking as if he’d had the shag of his life.
Upon spotting Harry, Richard smiled slightly and said, “Hullo, Harry,” before pouring himself a cup of coffee and scratching his arse. Harry’s jaw landed somewhere near his knees and he gave Ron such an incredulous look that he felt himself flush.
Biting his lip, Ron practically pounced on Richard and whispered in his ear, “Richie, Harry and I were just about to talk about Malfoy’s case. Just him and me, you know?”
“Oh.” Richard looked between Ron’s anxious red face and Harry’s gobsmacked expression. “All right. I’ll just be on my way. Nice to see you, Harry. Owl me later, love.” Richard leaned over and gave Ron a wet kiss on the mouth, then exited the kitchen. A few minutes later, the front door could be heard opening and closing.
Several more very awkward minutes passed. Ron scuffed his toe against the floor while Harry continued to sip an empty cup. Finally, Harry said, “I thought you and Richard had called it quits months ago.”
“We did.”
Harry gave him an expectant look. Sighing, Ron plopped down in the chair opposite Harry and said, “I met him last night at the Leaky Cauldron. I was drunk; he was broom-lagged. It was just a shag, a bit of release, that’s all. Don’t worry yourself about it.”
Ron peeked up from beneath his fringe to see his friend frowning. Harry caught his eye then and managed to look chagrined. “You’re right,” he said finally. “Your love life is none of my business. Let’s talk about Malfoy, shall we?”
Chuckling, Ron nodded and got up from the table to dress and then to serve breakfast. Once they were eating and had caught up on the local news (apparently Seamus was seen all but shagging Lavender Brown last weekend in Hogsmeade on a table at the Three Broomsticks), they began discussing Malfoy’s case.
“All right,” Harry mumbled as he opened up a large file, “lessee...Okay. So, after further investigation by on-site Aurors, we can now confirm that the blast was caused by Dark magic originating from a wand. Unfortunately, given the potions and fumes that resulted, we aren’t able to pinpoint the spell that was initially used.” Harry sat back in his chair and rubbed his stubbly chin.
“Additionally, there are observation charms set up all over the Ministry and St. Mungo’s. We tried to reveal the events surrounding the explosion, but apparently the perpetrator knew about these charms and deactivated them. We never saw his face.”
“His face?” Ron interrupted, leaning forward. “How d’you know it’s a he?”
“Well, he might’ve been smart, but not that smart,” Harry said, looking a bit smug. “He deactivated the vision aspect of the spell, but not the aural. We heard everything that occurred between Wesley Scott and the attacker before the explosion. Now, this is where it gets a bit odd.”
Harry stood and limped over to the counter in order to pour himself another cup of coffee. Once seated, he said, “Whoever this bloke is, he speaks German, and from what our linguists say, it’s natural German-no trace of an accent. They think he was born into the language. They’re also saying that it’s official German, or something; they keep going on about no dialect. Anyway, he and Scott were arguing in German, and then all things went to hell. I’ve heard the recording, but I haven’t a clue what they’re saying. The translators are working on that and should get it back to us soon.”
Frowning, Ron shoveled one more bite of eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Swallowing, he said, “It had to’ve been an inside job. How else would he have known about the charms. Not too many people know about them. Only the higher-ups. People like me and Richard.”
“Exactly,” Harry murmured. “Which means we’ve got a killer among us. Listen, Ron. When Malfoy wakes up, will you contact me as soon as possible? I’ll need to interview him about the chain of events.”
“Sure, no problem,” Ron said.
Harry looked down at his watch. “I’ve got to run to the office. Let me know if anything new turns up.”
“You’ve got it.”
Ron walked Harry to his fireplace and watched as his friend Flooed away in a whirl of green flames.
~*~
“Good morning, Healer Weasley.”
“Good morning, Lucia,” Ron replied to his secretary at St. Mungo’s. “Any more developments with Malfoy?”
“Florence came by earlier,” she said as she followed Ron into his office. “They’ve removed the Stunning Spell, but he still hasn’t woken up yet. Otherwise, his condition is the same.”
Ron nodded absently and began to read his post. “What about the investigation into the explosion?”
“I think I can help with that.”
Ron’s head snapped up and he broke into a huge grin when he saw the familiar bushy-haired witch standing in his doorway. “Hermione! Come in, come in.”
After Lucia had scurried out of the office and closed the door behind her, Ron and Hermione embraced, albeit awkwardly. Pulling back, and still grinning stupidly, he said, “You look amazing. Look at this!” Cupping Hermione’s protruding belly with his hands, Ron sank to his knees and pressed his ear against her abdomen. “Hello in there,” he said, his bright eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s me, Uncle Ronnie. Who’s my favorite baby? Whosit?”
Laughing, Hermione batted Ron away and dropped into the nearest chair with an oompf. “Stop that,” she scolded teasingly.
Not to be deterred, Ron scuttled over to her on his knees and began talking to her tummy again. “Don’t listen to her, poppet, she’s just jealous of the lovely bond we hold.” Looking up, he asked, “How is baby Ronald?”
“We’re not naming him Ronald,” she replied with a chuckle. “Neville and I’ve decided on a name, though, finally: Michael Benjamin.”
“Michael Benjamin Granger-Longbottom,” he echoed, blinking. “That poor child’s going to have the longest name ever. Hmm…though I suppose it’ll do,” he murmured, turning his attention back to the baby. “Though it’s still not as good as Ronald.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Hermione soothed, running her fingers through Ron’s hair. “Get up, now, you’re squishing me.”
Hauling himself up, he planted a quick kiss to Hermione’s forehead and then went to sit behind his desk. “How are you, love? And the baby? And Neville?” he asked.
Hermione rubbed her stomach and smiled a little. “I’m doing well, and so is the baby. We’re right on schedule, so expect little Michael here to be born in three weeks. Hopefully Neville will be back from Florida by then.”
“How’s his research coming?”
Hermione’s face lit up, and Ron panicked. It was her “I’m So Excited About Research and I’m Going to Tell Everyone” face. Although he was interested in the experiments Neville was conducting in the Florida Everglades, he didn’t really have the time at the moment to listen to what looked like was going to be a good hour-long explanation. “Oh, it’s going really great!”
“Er, actually, um-” Ron bit his lip and cast wildly about in his mind. Why was Hermione here again?
“You said you have information about Malfoy’s case?” he asked quickly
It worked. Hermione’s mouth shut with a snap, and for a moment she looked confused, but then she composed herself and pulled out a large manila folder. “This is from the translators and this packet here contains the potions that Scott and Malfoy were working on at the time of the explosion.”
Opening the folder, Ron skimmed over the potion list. “I’m not seeing anything here that would be considered Dark,” he said, frowning. “Hermione, if your department had them working on some kind of potion you don’t want the rest of the world to know about, I understand that, but I need to know in order to help with Malfoy’s recovery. You can trust me.”
“Ron, I know I can trust you,” she said, leaning forward and looking him straight in the eye. “But I swear to you, that list is it. We didn’t have them working on anything new, just already known potions. The full moon is approaching, and after the Werewolf Freedom Act of 2000 was passed by the Ministry-”
“That you passed.”
“After it was passed,” she repeated, blushing, “the production and distribution of Wolfsbane to all werewolves became the responsibility of the Wizarding government. Wesley Scott and Draco Malfoy are the only two wizards under Ministry contract who can make the potion, so it falls-fell on them. That’s all they’d been working on for the past week leading up to the explosion.”
“All right, all right,” he conceded. “Then the attacker produced the Dark magic alone. Fantastic...”
“You want to know what else is fantastic?” Hermione asked. “Read the transcript between the attacker and Scott.”
Ron flipped through a few pages and then frowned. Grumbling to himself, he patted at the pockets of his robes until he found his reading glasses. He slipped them on, ignoring Hermione’s teasing, “So sexy,” and began to read.
26 October 2004
Ministry of Magic
Department of Magical Research and Development
Head: Hermione J. Granger-Longbottom
Committee on Experimental Potions
Head: Wesley T. Scott [deceased]
Apprentice: Draco L. C. O. Malfoy
Ron stopped reading and looked up. “Draco L. C. O. Malfoy?” he said incredulously. “I lied; his name is the longest in history.”
“Oh, hush up and read.”
Below is a translated conversation between Wesley Scott (WS), Draco Malfoy (DM), and an unidentified wizard (UW) that took place on 24 October 2004 at approximately 20:40 hours.:
WS: Make sure you slice along the peripheral edge of that seed. Best way to get all the juice.
DM: I was taught to flatten the seed with the side of my knife in order to get the most amount of juice, sir.
WS: [long pause] Did the Death Eater teach ya that, boy?
DM: Yes. And sir, I’m twenty-four years old. Do not call me boy.
WS: Listen to me, boy, I’m gonna give you some good advice and I expect you to follow it, d’you hear? Whatever it is that Death Eater told you, you need to ignore, to forget. It won’t help ya, d’you hear? Your loyalty to scum like that is what’s holdin’ ya back, boy.
DM: Stop calling me boy! [silence, then approaching footsteps]
UW: Excuse me. I need to speak with Master Scott.
WS: Well what are you doing all the way down here so late?
UW: I was hoping to speak with Malfoy alone.
WS: I...What?
UW: Draco Malfoy, I want to speak with him.
WS: Wait-Hey! Wait, you can’t-put that down! Draco! No!
DM: Get away from-Wesley! Fuck, help! Somebody! [loud scuffle ensues]
UW: Get out of my way, Scott!
WS: Let him go! [glass breaks, screaming and shouting]
DM: Wesley, look out!
UW: Stop interfering, old man! Avada Kedavra!
DM: NO! [loud thump, scuffling, gasping]
UW: Put him down!
DM: What? I don’t speak German, you idiot!
UW: Let him go and stand up to face your death like a man!
DM: SOMEBODY HELP US!
UW: Silencio! If you wish to die on the ground like an animal, then so be it. Avada Kedavra! [explosion]
[Recording ends]
Ron slowly lowered the transcript and took off his glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of his robes. “The attacker cast the Killing Curse, but Malfoy’s obviously not dead, so...he must have dived, or-or thrown something that blocked the spell, causing the explosion, which would explain why he didn’t shield his face.”
Looking back over the document, he said, “Scott must have known the wizard-he asked him why he was down in the potions lab so late...Turns out...”
“It was to kill Malfoy,” Hermione concluded softly. “Possibly revenge, though for what, we don’t know, and won’t know, until Malfoy wakes up and can tell us.”
“If he can tell us,” Ron murmured.
“What do you mean?”
Ron paused for a few moments to think. “When he wakes, he’s going to be hurting, not just physically, but mentally. He’s blind now, and even if that blindness is only temporary, it can still be both shocking and debilitating for him. It’s going to take a lot of adjusting for Malfoy-he won’t be allowed a wand until his eyesight returns and he’ll be dependent upon others for help in simple every day activities, such as eating, dressing, and even bathing and other activities contained in the loo.” Leaning back in his chair, Ron absently paged through the file in front of him. “It’ll take a while for him to adjust. Hopefully he’ll be able to utilize the senses that remain in order to help him on his way to recovery. However, if he does...end up permanently blind, then we’ll see about getting either transplants or the advanced orbs like the kind Moody used to have.”
Hermione suppressed a wince badly. “What? What is it?” Ron asked.
“Well...” she began, “you see, the reason Malfoy was working as an apprentice was because, well...After Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to death in 2000, the Ministry seized all his assets, which included all his money. Draco and his mum were completely Knutless after that, so he had to go and work for a living. When the potions apprenticeship opened up, he jumped at the chance and he’s been doing that ever since.”
“What about his mother?” said Ron. “Whatever happened to her?”
“Well, she managed to survive the war, but she fell down a flight of stairs a couple of years ago and broke her neck. She died.”
“Damn,” he muttered. “Malfoy’s not exactly been the luckiest bloke, has he?”
“He was also under heavy Ministry protection for a while back,” Hermione informed Ron. “Apparently he’d been getting death threats from former and unaccounted-for Death Eaters. I suppose they didn’t appreciate being betrayed by him when he came to our side during the war.”
“No kidding.”
Hermione snorted delicately. She looked at her watch then, and said, “I’d best be off now. There’s a ton of paperwork I need to fill out about this whole disaster. Let me know about any further developments concerning Malfoy.”
Ron smiled and got up from his chair. “Will do, love.”
“Excellent. Now be a doll and help me out of this chair.”
A few acrobatic feats later, Ron managed to get Hermione out of the chair, and after one last peck on the cheek, he watched her waddle off down the corridor with a smile on his face.
“Healer Weasley, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” came Lucia’s no-nonsense voice. Turning around, Ron was amused to see that the older woman’s grey-streaked black hair was a bit mussed and her wrinkled cheeks were flushed.
“What is it, Lu?”
Lucia huffed at the nickname but ignored it to say, “That-woman-was by to speak with you. I had to argue with her for nearly the entire time you were in your office with Mrs. Granger-Longbottom. That woman is utterly-totally insufferable-just-oh! She is so frustrating and annoying...”
“Lucia. Who are we talking about?” Ron said, fighting back laughter.
“Healer O’Shaughnessy, of course!”
“Ah...” Ron made a face. “Well. Thank you, Lu, for keeping her away from me. I appreciate it, but I suppose I’m going to have to face her eventually. If she stops by again, tell her I’m very busy plucking my eyebrows, but I will be by after my shift is over to see her. I’m off to see Draco Malfoy now.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, writing down a note with a pencil she’d taken from somewhere within her hair. “Also, Harry Potter sent an owl asking about Mr. Malfoy. How should I respond?”
Ron thought for a moment, then said, “Tell him to come on down here. We need to talk.”
Lucia nodded and then wandered back to her desk. Ron stared at a blank wall, thinking, before taking a deep breath and walking down the corridor and towards Malfoy’s room.
~*~
“He, er, just woke up,” said Florence.
“I can see that,” Ron replied wearily, looking at the current wreckage. Malfoy was thrashing about on his bed, shouting at the top of his lungs and struggling against the bindings that were holding him down. The room itself was trashed; debris cluttered the floor, the bed sheets were strewn about, and several decorative potted plants were now lying in heaps of dirt on the floor.
“Let me out of here! Let me go! Let me go, let me go, let me go!” Draco screamed from his bed.
“Shall we Stun him again, sir?” Florence asked anxiously.
“No,” Ron said firmly. “Too many of those will bring on catatonia. Let me handle this.”
Ron strode over to Malfoy’s bed. He carefully bent over Malfoy and ran his wand over his body and eyes, especially. While he was now fully cured from his injuries in the explosion, Malfoy’s eyes were still damaged by Dark properties.
Malfoy’s screams were dying down but he was still struggling against the bonds. His eyes were wide open, and even though he could not see, Ron could tell that Malfoy was extremely frightened and scared.
“I know someone’s near me!” Malfoy said wildly. “I can feel you! Let me go! Do you have any idea who I am, you imbecile? Tell me what happened to my eyes! Remove the charms or-or whatever they are and let me see!”
Ron placed his wand on the nightstand next to the bed and he noticed that Malfoy turned his head in the same direction. His eyes were still darting about the room frantically.
“You heard that, didn’t you?” Ron asked is a soft voice. Malfoy stopped shouting and only his heavy breathing could be heard. Ron watched him carefully and then said, “Your other senses are already strengthening, becoming more acute. They’re making up for the lack of sight.”
Malfoy looked as if he wanted to shout again, but he miraculously held himself back for once. He stopped struggling against the bonds, though Ron could tell that he was still shaking. Ron took a few moments to study Malfoy, having not seen the other man in quite a few years, though Ron hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to seek him out, either. Malfoy’s hair was still as white as ever, but it was short and cropped. Ron suspected that he’d had it cut that way to prevent his hair from getting mixed with the potions. His eyes were still a steely grey color, although now they had a glazed look about them. Otherwise, Malfoy still looked the same as he ever had-his face was still pointy and angled, his eyes slightly slanted, and not even a hint of hair could be seen growing on his chin. Malfoy did seem as if he’d put on some weight, Ron thought, which helped him look less lanky and child-like.
Ron hated to admit it, but Malfoy looked...all right. For a twitchy ferret, anyway.
“So...” Malfoy wheezed, and Ron started. “What are you doing here, Weasley? Come to clean up the mess I made?”
Lip curling, Ron said, “Actually, Draco, I’m your Healer. How’d you recognize me?”
“All weasels smell the same,” he retorted, and then he smirked. Ron couldn’t believe it. Here he was, trying to heal the little bastard, and Malfoy was smirking at him!
“I see you haven’t changed, Draco,” Ron said through gritted teeth. Several Mediwitches backed away slowly.
“Why change something that doesn’t need changing?” Malfoy grinned crookedly. “And I’m Draco now? How kind of you to condescend to call a former Death Eater by its first name.”
“Shut up,” Ron snapped irritably. Malfoy had always had a way of pissing Ron off no matter what he said. Actually, Malfoy’s very existence often just ruffled Ron’s feathers the wrong way. “If you want to get out of those restraints, you’re going to have to show a little bit more respect and courtesy towards myself and my staff.”
Malfoy snorted decisively. “Like how your staff allowed me to suffer in pain the other night?” he sneered.
“I wasn’t in charge of you then,” Ron corrected, and picked up his wand to begin running more diagnostics. The Mediwitches in the room began to go back to their work after having warily watched the exchange between Ron and Malfoy. “But I am now, and if you are in pain, you need to tell me or else we won’t be able to treat you and fix your eyes.”
Malfoy suddenly began struggling against the bonds again. “What happened to my eyes?” he shouted. “Return my sight this instant! I want another Healer! I demand to have another Healer, this one’s incompetent!”
“Fuck,” Ron muttered. He dropped his wand into his robe pocket and leant over Malfoy’s writhing body, pinning the man’s wrists down. Thrusting his face into Malfoy’s, he said in a deadly voice, “Now you listen to me. I’m your Healer, and nothing you say will change that, do you hear me?” Malfoy’s faced twisted in anger but he remained silent. “I’m the only one who can heal you, and frankly, probably the only one who’s willing to put up with your shite. You wanna be a little bitch about everything? Then fine, but remember, you and I are going to be very close over the next few months, so it’s up to you. If you want to cooperate, your eyesight will return much more quickly, but if you continue what you’re doing now, then it’ll be a question of whether your sight will ever return. Do I make myself clear?”
It looked as if it was taking all his energy not to spit in Ron’s face, but after several tense moments, Malfoy finally nodded reluctantly, and Ron backed away. He took his wand back out of his pocket and began running tests again. “You were in an explosion,” he told Malfoy, who’s lip curled as if to say, “No kidding.” Ron rolled his eyes and continued, “You were in an explosion in the potions lab at the Ministry. We know that a man tried to kill you, but Wesley Scott died instead.”
“Wes is dead?” Malfoy interrupted. His face was pale and he looked shocked and a bit distressed.
Ron paused for a moment, frowning. “Yes,” he said slowly.
Malfoy blew out a breath and turned his head away, not answering.
Ron, feeling a bit out of his element for some reason, cleared his throat and said, “From what we understand of what happened, the attacker tried using the Killing Curse, but something interrupted the spell and it caused the explosion. The combination of flying debris, potions, and Dark magic caused the loss of sight. However, we do expect that you could recover your eyesight. There will be an Auror who will be stopping by shortly to ask you about the incident.”
Malfoy’s head whipped around at that. “I don’t want to talk to any Aurors,” he spat.
“That’s unfortunate,” Ron murmured, and then held a glass up to Malfoy’s thin lips. “Here, drink this potion.”
“Let me out of the bonds and I’ll drink it.”
Ron raised his eyebrows and felt impressed in spite of himself. “This isn’t a series of negotiations. This is a restorative draught for your eyes. I reckon you’ll want to take it.”
“There’s no reason to keep me tied down,” Malfoy argued, his voice rising. “What the fuck are you afraid I’ll do? Run?” He laughed caustically.
“Now see, this is a problem,” Ron said, leaning against the bed. “If I let you go, then it might be a signal to you that you can bargain and negotiate your way out of taking potions, or eating, or any other activity, but on the other hand, I don’t see any reason to keep you bound. It’s quite a conundrum, don’t you think?”
“You don’t even know what conundrum means,” Malfoy said viciously. “For fuck’s sake, Weasley, I’ll drink all the bloody potions, just let me go!”
Ron was very tempted to chide Malfoy for his language, but decided against it at the last moment. Instead, he flicked his wand and the invisible bonds holding Malfoy down disappeared. He immediately sat up and brought his wrists together, massaging them.
“Oh, thank you, Weasley. I’m ever so grateful,” he drawled sarcastically. Ron sighed. Some things never changed.
Luckily, Malfoy remained silent for the rest of the examination, for which Ron was extremely thankful. But then Harry had to go and ruin it. Ron was just finishing placing drops into Malfoy’s eyes when the door to his room opened and Harry stepped inside. Malfoy sat up in a flash, his nostrils flaring, and said, “What is he doing here?”
Harry stopped dead in his tracks and gave Ron a stunned look, who in turn gave Malfoy an impressed one. “How’d you tell it was him?” Ron asked.
“All the air in the room disappeared when Potter’s head entered it,” Malfoy said snidely.
“It’s a pleasure to see you, too, Malfoy,” Harry said in false cheerfulness. “Your wit and general sunny disposition are always the bright points in my day. How do you manage to maintain that attitude of yours?”
“Well, one always has an appreciation for life after one was locked away in a high-security prison for a year,” Malfoy returned, his lip curling and eyes narrowing, though he was looking about five feet to the left of where Harry was standing.
“No less than you deserved,” snapped Harry.
“As touching as this little reunion is,” Ron interrupted loudly, “Harry, Malfoy’s awake; Malfoy, Harry’s the Auror that will be taking your official statement. If we could work together in a war, I figure we can work together for this. Now both of you shut the hell up.”
Malfoy threw himself back against his pillows and crossed his arms sulkily, while Harry stormed across the room and came to stand beside his bed. Ron sighed again. This was what it was like during the war, too. Malfoy on one side of the room, Harry on the other, and he and Hermione stuck in the middle maintaining peace. Ron quickly tired of it then, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand for it while they were in his hospital.
Harry pulled out a notepad and quill, and after placing a charm on the quill, said, “This is Auror Harry Potter, interviewing Draco Malfoy about the events that occurred on the evening of 24 October 2004. Today’s date is 26 October 2004 and it is 10:38 in the morning.” Harry paused for a moment, and then asked, “For the record, please state your name, age, and prison identification number.”
Malfoy stared at Harry, though the effect was lost somewhat since he still wasn’t quite looking in the right direction. “Are you kidding me? You just said my name.”
“Just do it, Malfoy!”
He gave a long-suffering sigh and said, “My name is Draco Lucius Cygnus Orion Malfoy, I am twenty-four years old, and my I.D. number is 050680963.”
“Where were you on the night of October 24th?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes and then winced.
“Do your eyes hurt?” Ron asked quickly.
“No…” he said. He blinked a few times and then shook his head. He looked up in Harry’s direction and said, “I was working in the Ministry’s potions laboratory with Wesley Scott.”
“What potion or potions were you working on?” Harry asked, the quill scribbling furiously in the background.
“Wolfsbane, mainly,” Malfoy said. “But also a few others for St. Mungo’s, like blood-replenishing and others.”
“Were you working on anything illegal?”
“Do I look stupid?”
“Answer the question.”
“No, you idiot,” Malfoy sniped. “Wes wouldn’t have had anything to do with illegal or Dark potions.”
“What were you doing when the unidentified man approached you and Wesley Scott?”
Malfoy frowned and closed his eyes. “I don’t remember,” he said slowly. “I think…slicing or…or cutting up some seeds or ingredients or something.” He opened his eyes, still frowning.
“And Scott? What was he doing?” Harry pressed.
“Just working on a potion.”
“Are you sure? Which potion?”
“Yes, and Wolfsbane. You suck at asking relevant questions, Potter.”
“Shut it, Malfoy,” Ron said.
Malfoy’s eyes widened and a small smirk formed on his mouth. “Well, well, look who’s grown a pair since the last time we were together.”
“Shut it,” Harry hissed, “or you’ll regret it. Next question: did you see the attacker when he first approached?”
“No, he stayed in the main area in the front while I remained in the back with the potions.”
“Did you hear what Scott and the other wizard were discussing?”
Malfoy rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck. “No,” he said at last. “They were speaking in German. I only know French, Latin, Italian, and Greek. Father said he didn’t want me learning such a base language.” Ron rolled his eyes.
“What about when he attacked you?” Harry asked. “We know that at one point you two were engaged in a struggle.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “He jumped me while my back was to him.”
“Did he say anything?”
“What part of ‘I don’t understand German’ don’t you comprehend?”
Harry frowned and flipped through his notes. “You mean that the man spoke in nothing but German during the entire encounter? You have no idea what he said?”
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Malfoy drawled. “Correct. I don’t know what he said. Merlin, but you are an idiot. No wonder they let you be an Auror.”
“I worked to be an Auror just like everybody else!” Harry protested, and Ron dropped his face into his hands.
Clearly enjoying himself, Malfoy said, “Is that really what you believe?”
“Are you almost done questioning him?” said Ron quickly, placing a calming hand on Harry’s shoulder.
Swallowing, Harry took a deep breath and asked, “When the wizard killed Scott, what did you do?”
Malfoy was quiet for a very long time, and Harry was about to question him again when he said, “I dropped to the floor. Wes-he had fallen...I wanted to-to see if he was really dead.” Malfoy licked his lips and let his head fall backwards against his pillow, exposing his long, white neck. Ron felt his stomach lurch.
“The maniac just kept spouting off German, and I kept shouting back, and then he said the Killing Curse.”
“What did you do next?” said Harry.
“I don’t remember,” Malfoy muttered. “I think I tried to duck or something.”
Ron gave Harry a look. “Ask if he threw a potion to block the curse,” he whispered.
“I wouldn’t have been that stupid,” snapped Malfoy, whose angry gaze was settled somewhere around Ron’s left shoulder. “I know better than to throw volatile potions at a volatile curse. I just...tried to get out of the way. I don’t know.”
“Would you be able to recognize your attacker and Scott’s murderer?” Harry asked.
“Maybe,” said Malfoy, rubbing tiredly at his face. “It was dark and I was sort of having a nervous breakdown at the time. I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“Could you describe the wizard?”
Malfoy’s turned his head. “Maybe...He was average height, maybe a little taller. No distinguishing features that I can remember. He was blond, but not my blond; it was yellow blond.”
Harry gave Ron a Look and then shuffled through some of his notes for a few moments while Ron took that time to study Malfoy again. His face was slightly flushed and scrunched up unattractively. Sweat was forming on his brow and his jaw appeared to be clenched.
“Malfoy,” said Ron softly, “are you in any pain?”
“I’m fine,” he hissed. “I need the loo. Where is it?”
“Here, let me help you-”
“I don’t need your help!” Malfoy shouted, flailing his arms when he felt Ron’s presence too close to his body. “I know how to take a fucking piss!”
“I’ve got everything I need here,” Harry said, eyeing Malfoy dubiously. “I’ll let you know if there are any updates or developments. “’Bye, Ron.” He was out the door in a flash, leaving Ron alone in the room with an irritable and very moody Draco Malfoy, who had managed to get off the bed and was now making his way in the opposite direction of the loo.
“I thought you wanted to use the loo,” Ron called to him. Malfoy stopped and cocked his head in Ron’s direction.
“I am,” he said shortly.
Rocking on the balls of his feet, Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “Well, you might want to try turning around, because if you keep going the way you are, you’re going to run straight into a brick wall.”
Malfoy scowled and slowly turned around. His eyes were wide and unseeing, his arms held parallel to the ground and feeling at the air. “Which way is it?” he growled, cheeks pink.
And this was where the Healing began. This was what Ron was best at. Healing physical injuries were very simple now in the magical community, but it was the mind that proved to be the hardest challenge. Being able to ask for help, and being able to accept it, was usually the most difficult part of the healing process. Witches and wizards were so used to their independence, so used to having their injuries healed with a flick of a wand, that anything beyond that was oftentimes unheard of. Which was why Ron Weasley was an expert. He knew just the right words to say, in just the right way and at just the right time. He could develop lasting relationships with the meanest of wizards; he could convince the oldest of crones that she needed to take a certain potion. Ron was good at his job, and he knew it. Now it was time to see if all his training would hold up against the most annoying person alive.
Ron licked his lips and then walked over to stand in front of the bathroom door. He was pleased to notice that Malfoy’s head followed the noise. “I’m standing in front of it. See if you can follow the sound of my voice and walk your way over to me.”
Malfoy was very still and Ron could hear his heavy breathing. Finally, he said, “What the hell kind of game are you playing, Weasley?”
Suppressing the strong urge to sigh, Ron counted to ten and then replied, “This isn’t a game, Malfoy. I’m attempting to help you better adapt to your surroundings now that your sight is gone.”
“I thought you said my eyesight would return!” he said shrilly.
“If you cooperate!” Ron returned. “Accepting my help isn’t going to make you weak, Malfoy.”
Malfoy sneered at him. “I’m not weak! And what if I don’t want the help of a weasel?”
“Then you’re fuck out of luck,” Ron ground out, finding it hard to suppress his anger. Malfoy always had a way of pushing his buttons, no matter what measures Ron took to keep his temper under control. “I’m your only way out of this situation, so it’s time to suck it up and listen to me.”
A loud silence followed as Ron and Malfoy stood on opposite sides of the hospital room and sneered at one another.
The next thing Ron knew, Malfoy was striding across the room, and heading straight towards him. And the bed, which happened to be standing between the two men.
Eyes wide, Ron cried out, “Wait, Malfoy-!” But it was too late. Malfoy ran straight into the metal frame of the bed and crumpled to the floor, howling in pain. Ron rushed around the end of the bed and crouched down to Malfoy’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.
Malfoy’s face was screwed up in pain and he was crutching at his groin. “I’m fine,” he gasped. “Incapable of siring children, but fine.”
Ron guffawed, and then clapped a hand over his mouth.
“I’m glad you think my pain is funny, Weasley!” Malfoy barked in a pained voice, and then let out a low moan. “Aw, bloody hell...”
“Here, let me see,” Ron said, taking pity on the other man, and tried to bat his hands away.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Malfoy squawked, flapping his arms. “Don’t touch me!”
“Do you want me to make it feel better or not?” Ron snapped irritably.
“Not if it involves you touching me!”
“Fine!” Ron stood up and backed away. “Stay there rolling around on the floor. See if I care.”
Grunting and shuffling was all the reply he would get, it seemed, as Malfoy was determined to do as much for himself as possible. After a few more minutes hissing in pain on the floor, he managed to pull himself into a sitting position, and then finally stood up with the aid of the bed. He stood slightly hunched, as if his groin was still giving him pain, but looked quite pleased with himself that he did all that on his own.
“Congratulations, Malfoy,” Ron said jovially. “You were able to accomplish what any nine-month-old could do: stand.”
“Piss off,” Malfoy muttered. “Now where the hell is the loo?”
Ron paused for a moment, taking in Malfoy’s determined face and stiff resolution. “You’ll have to feel your way there,” he said at last. “Can you figure out how?”
Malfoy frowned and turned his head away from Ron. “You were on the other side of the bed, and before, you said that you were by the loo. So it stands to reason that the door to the loo is on the other side of the bed.”
Ron nodded. “Correct.”
“This isn’t a test,” snapped Malfoy. “You don’t need to reward me with praise and treats every time I do something right.”
Ignoring his attitude, Ron remained silent and watched as Malfoy tentatively patted the side of the bed, and then began to move. He made it to the end of the bed before stubbing his toe. Hissing and swearing, he followed the bed’s shape until he was on the other side. He let go and thrust his arms out wide, taking small steps towards a plant in the corner. Malfoy ran into the wall with a dull thud and began feeling his way up and down the brick. Finally, after several tense moments in which Malfoy studied a thick groove in the wall, he was able to find the door that led to the loo.
“I found it!” he crowed, and Ron shook his head in disbelief and amusement. Malfoy disappeared into the loo, and except for a loud crashing noise, seemed to have no problem. It wasn’t until Ron was on his third page of notes in his notebook, however, that he realized Malfoy was still in the loo. Concerned, he was about to go knock when the door to the hospital room opened and then slammed shut.
Startled, Ron whirled around, ready to chastise if necessary, only to find a fuming Maureen O’Shaughnessy glaring at him with a truly ugly look on her round, flat face. For a moment, she reminded Ron of Hermione when she was angry, what with the curly brown hair and dark brown eyes, but Hermione was beautiful when she was angry; O’Shaughnessy was most definitely not.
Bloody hell, not now, Ron thought with a scowl. “What is it, O’Shaughnessy?” he asked in exasperation.
“I told your secretary that I needed to speak with you hours ago!” she shrieked.
“I’ve been busy with a patient,” Ron shot back. “Last time I checked, they were a tad more important.”
O’Shaughnessy exhaled loudly through her nose, sounding vaguely like a snorting bull. She looked around the room in an exaggerated manner and held up her hands. “Where is he, then?” she asked spitefully. “Where is the little Death Eater?”
“You are out of line,” Ron warned, his anger rising dangerously.
“How can you even stand to be in the same room with him?” she demanded in a piercing tone. “After everything he’s done, after the way his father murdered your sister-”
“GET OUT!” Ron roared, shaking with fury. O’Shaughnessy’s eyes widened in fear and she quickly stumbled out of the room, closing the door behind her. Still shaking, his knees weak, Ron stumbled backwards until he ran into the bed. He sank gratefully onto its surface, the sheer blind rage slowly dissipating as reality sunk in. Ron’s chest constricted at the mere thought of Ginny and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing her memory from his head. Hand clutching at his chest, Ron struggled to get his breathing under control again.
He sat in silence for what felt like ages until a small, hesitant voice spoke up. “Weasley...?”
Ron nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. Leaping off the bed, he spun around and saw Malfoy standing uncertainly in the threshold to the loo with a towel around his waist. His hair was wet and matted, and there were some stray soap bubbles on his shoulders. It looked as if Malfoy had taken a shower while he was in there.
“Yeah?” Ron croaked, and then cleared his throat. “Is everything all right?” he tried again, grateful his voice no longer sounded strained.
Malfoy looked particularly pale, though there were two bright pink spots on his cheeks. It was then Ron realized that he must have heard the shouting match between him and O’Shaughnessy. Feeling flushed and shaky, Ron ran a hand through his hand and slowly blew out a breath. He looked back to Malfoy and felt his stomach lurch again, especially after he really realized that Malfoy was, in fact, wearing only a towel. There was another lurch, but this time, Ron understood that that kind of lurch had nothing to do with how he had been feeling.
It was desire.
“I’ve got to go,” Ron half shouted. Malfoy swallowed and nodded tentatively. “I’ll have the Mediwitches come in and help you get ready for dinner,” he continued to ramble. “And then I’ll be back, but probably not ‘til tomorrow. I’ll see ya, Malfoy!”
Feeling utterly foolish, Ron rushed out of the room and all but ran straight to his office. Once safely inside, Ron collapsed into his chair and buried his head in his hands. The sheer number of emotions coursing through him was overwhelming, and Ron allowed himself to hiccup and cough and squeeze back tears until he felt he was ready to face the Real World again.
Raising his head, Ron took a deep breath and let it out. He was okay. Okay. Yes, he was fine. O’Shaughnessy’s a great giant-well, Ron had many names for Maureen O’Shaughnessy. And Malfoy, well, that wasn’t anything-that was nothing, nothing at all. Ron was still just reeling from his argument with O’Shaughnessy, that’s all. And, come on, he was a gay man. Of course he’d notice when other handsome men were nearly starkers! It was only natural. Right?
“Healer Weasley?”
Ron yelped in surprise and nearly jumped out of his seat. “What is it, Lu?” he gasped.
Lucia raised a heavily painted eyebrow. “Er, this just came for you, sir.” She held out her hand to reveal a blood-red piece of parchment, and Ron’s heart sank into his stomach.
~*~
Part II
Author: TheGiantSquid
Pairing: Ron/Draco, Ron/OMC; past Ron/Hermione, unrequited Ron/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After Draco is blinded in an accident that wasn’t quite an accident after all, Ron takes him in and soon discovers that not everything or everyone is as it seems.
Warnings: Character death (pre-story), rimming, clichés…
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but oh how I love to play with them. All mistakes are mine, too :-/
Author Notes: Mediwitches/wizards are the equivalent of nurses in this fic. Major thanks to mr_yer_on_fire and abigail89 for all their help in making this story happen, and a lot of love for tarie, because this is sooo late D: And to ceilidh, this is for you, my dear. You wanted plot and something you could sink your teeth into. I pray I delivered :) Written for sunandsmut.
Part I | Part II | Part III
“What the hell happened?” Ron demanded as he struggled to follow Tonks down a narrow corridor at St. Mungo’s.
“Explosion in the Potions lab,” she said, rounding a corner and continuing down the hallway. “Wesley Scott, the Potions master, was killed instantly. He took the brunt of the explosion, but Malfoy was still severely injured.”
“What are they?” Ron asked. “And why am I being called in for this? My specialty lies elsewhere-”
“The burns were very bad, as were the lacerations caused by the shattering glass,” Tonks interrupted breathlessly. “But the Healers on call were able to treat them. It’s his eyes, Ron.”
Before Ron could say another word, they had arrived at the special victims ward. Upon passing through the doors, he could immediately make out the anguished cries and groans coming from down the corridor.
“That him?”
Tonks nodded and began to lead him towards the room. “Everything’s healed except for his eyes. The combination of flying glass and the chemicals in the potions tore them up. He’s in so much pain, and generally being himself, that we can’t question him about the incident until he’s calmed down.”
“I’ll do my best,” Ron muttered just before entering Malfoy’s room. “Why hasn’t he been Stunned yet?” he barked to the nearest Healer, who recoiled slightly.
“We were waiting for you, sir,” she stammered.
With a grunt, Ron raised his wand, aimed it straight at Draco Malfoy’s heart, and uttered the words for the Stunning Spell. A second later, the room was finally quiet. Striding over to Malfoy’s bed, Ron began examining the patient while he listened to the man’s stats.
“Heart rate is normal, a bit accelerated due to the circumstances,” said the head Mediwitch, Florence Angels. “The burns are nearly completely healed, now, and the deepest of the lacerations have been taken care of. He had trouble breathing earlier, due to the smoke and other gases from the explosion and resulting fire. As you may have noticed, of course, Mr. Malfoy’s eyes took a direct hit. For some reason, he did not raise his hands to shield his face as most people instinctively do.”
Ron ran his wand over Malfoy’s body and pursed his lips when a light emanating from the tip turned red. “Who was the Healer in charge of Malfoy?” he asked Angels.
“O’Shaughnessy, sir.”
“Get her in here.”
Angels waved her wand and a streak of light shot out of the end. A few minutes later, Maureen O’Shaughnessy strolled into the room. Ron gritted his teeth before turning to face the woman.
“What’s the problem here, Healer Weasley?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Tell me, Healer O’Shaughnessy,” he began, turning back to Malfoy’s body and running his wand once more over the man’s closed eyes, “upon your initial evaluation, did you bother to run a full diagnostic scan?”
“Of course I did,” she said indignantly, striding forward and peering around Ron’s wide form. Judging from her slight gasp, however, he figured that she had missed that particular problem.
“Notice it now, do you?” he said softly. The red light slowly began to change to a more menacing black color. “Dark magic, O’Shaughnessy. Did you eve n stop to wonder why Mr. Malfoy was in so much pain? No, of course not, because he’s just a Malfoy, right?”
“I missed it,” she snapped, stepping back and crossing her arms. “A mistake, but it’s been corrected now, so if we could move on to the appropriate treatment-”
“No, I’m afraid that’s not it,” Ron informed her in a dangerous voice. Straightening up so that he could tower over her, he continued, “As I understand it, this explosion took place early this afternoon, around three. Correct?” A few Mediwitches nodded in agreement; Maureen sneered at him. “Then why did it take you five hours to seek my counsel, Healer O’Shaughnessy? You mean to tell me that you allowed Draco Malfoy to suffer like that for five hours? That’s bordering on cruel, Maureen.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me that way,” she hissed. “I did everything within my power and knowledge to heal that-that man. You’re lucky I didn’t let him perish-”
“Get out!” Ron thundered at her. Despite Maureen’s stubbornness, she knew Ron’s temper, and with a sniff, she twirled on her heel and flounced out of the room. Blowing out a relieved breath, Ron turned back to the remaining Mediwitches and said, “Well, what are you all waiting for? Let’s try to save this man’s sight,” and the room immediately erupted in noise and activity.
~*~
Several hours later, Ron found himself attacked by reporters the moment he exited Malfoy’s room. As he tried to fight the off, a patch of bright pink hair rescued him from the throng of people.
“You all right?” Tonks asked, looking concerned. Ron nodded and smiled gratefully. She smiled back and then motioned him to follow. Near the end of a deserted corridor, Ron could see Kingsley Shacklebolt waiting for them. The two men shook hands and then Tonks said, “Would it be all right if we ask you a few questions?”
“Sure.”
She nodded and flipped open a small notebook she had pulled out of a pocket. “Okay…Since we already know Malfoy’s going to recover from the explosion. So…When do you expect his vision to return?”
“I suppose it’s a question of whether it’ll return at all,” Ron replied slowly
Kingsley leaned forward and said, “What do you mean by that?”
Ron scrubbed at his face tiredly. He’d been working on Malfoy for several hours, and very little progress had been made in that time. “Since Scott was killed and Malfoy is currently unconscious, we have no clue what types of Potions they were working on at the time. I’ve already contacted Hermione to see if we could get access to the files, but it might be a while yet.” Ron took a deep gulp of much needed coffee. “Additionally, since I’ve detected some Dark magic embedded in the injuries around Malfoy’s eyes, some of those potions very well may have been, oh, dangerous or illegal in the first place, meaning that it’s unlikely that they would have documented those types of indiscretions.”
Kingsley nodded. “The explosion was Dark itself, so it’s possible that the potions may have been affected.”
Groaning slightly, Ron slumped against the wall behind him. “I was afraid of that.”
“Why?” asked Tonks.
Focusing on her pink hair, Ron began, “If what’s causing Malfoy’s blindness was brought on solely by Dark magic, then we’d bring in a team of specialized Healers. Me, for instance, but I’m not an expert at Dark magic; my job is to heal physically and mentally. But Malfoy’s injuries are a result of a combination of magic, volatile substances, and abrasions. Healing him is going to take a lot of time and a lot of patience.”
Tonks flipped her notebook closed and blew out a breath. “You’ll let us know when he’s awake and…more himself?” she asked.
Ron nodded. “Yes, of course...If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back in there. Good night, you two.”
“’Bye, Ron,” the two Aurors chorused, and Ron was left alone in the deserted corridor.
~*~
“Fancy meeting you here.”
With a start, Ron set down his shot of Firewhisky and looked up blearily. Standing over him was a slim, curly-haired blond man with light green eyes and a five o’clock shadow. Smiling slightly, Ron indicated for the man to sit down at his table. He was at the Leaky Cauldron currently trying to get as drunk as possible and still function as a human being.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink during the week,” the man commented quietly, eyeing the many empty shot glasses littering the table. Ron had to strain to hear the man’s words over the general roar of the Leaky Cauldron’s many guests and patrons.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had one hell of a day,” Ron said, proud that he wasn’t slurring. “I thought you were in Canada, Richie.”
Shaking his head and grinning, Richard Maus leaned forward and took a sip of the alcohol himself, shuddering as the fiery liquid burned down his throat. “Came back early,” he said, watching Ron closely. “The conference was boring as fuck and there were too many Americans for my taste. Besides, I was hoping for a quick shag.”
Ron snorted, but grinned despite himself. “No offense, Richie, but I’m afraid you came to the wrong bloke. I have one bitch of a headache and I don’t think I’d be much company.”
Richard frowned and leaned forward. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
Sighing, Ron sloshed the alcohol about in his glass for a moment before saying, “Just a long day. A former...acquaintance of mine was severely injured last night, and then I had to deal with incompetent Healers, Aurors up my arse every five seconds, and just general shite.”
“It was Malfoy, wasn’t it?”
Ron’s head shot up. “How’d you hear about that? I know it wasn’t on the wireless.”
“I stopped by the hospital not long after I arrived here, Ron,” Richard said, looking confused by Ron’s harsh tones. “They told me what happened. That’s why I came looking for you. I stopped by your flat, but when I saw you weren’t there, I began searching random pubs. Lo, here you are.”
“I’m sorry I snapped,” Ron mumbled, slumping down in his seat. “I s’pose I’m just stressed and tired and…”
“It’s all right,” soothed Richard, as he rubbed a hand up and down Ron’s jean-clad thigh. “I could help you de-stress,” he added in a whisper, settling his hand on Ron’s crotch.
Inhaling deeply, Ron took one last sip of the Firewhisky before rising out of his chair and grabbing Richard by the arm. After the two had stepped outside, Ron Apparated them to an alley behind the building of his flat. Richard didn’t let Ron move a foot, though, as he jerked the taller man against his body and kissed him hard.
~*~
The next morning, Ron woke up with a splitting headache and a feeling of contentment that he often associated with a great shag. Turning his head, he spied Richard’s naked form sleeping soundly on his bed.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“If you keep saying that word, I just might have to take you up on it,” came Richard’s muffled voice. Poking his head up from beneath a pillow, he squinted at Ron and said, “You look like hell. Go take a potion or something.” And with that, he was asleep again.
With a grunt, Ron rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of wrinkled pajama bottoms, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Spying the clock on the wall, he saw that it was just after eight in the morning. Not particularly looking forward to spending his day with Draco bloody Malfoy, Ron began to make a strong pot of coffee and rummage for some edible food. A loud whooshing noise, however, caused him to take his head out of the refrigerator and walk quickly into the living room just in time to see Harry fall out of his fireplace.
“Hey, mate,” said Ron, helping Harry to his feet, since he never did seem to get the hang of Flooing, which became especially difficult after he’d gotten his leg injury. “What the hell are you doing here so early?” Motioning with his hand, Ron led his best friend back into the kitchen. “I was just making breakfast, d’you want anything?”
“Some coffee would be great, thanks,” Harry replied, and then gulped down the scalding beverage as soon as Ron handed it to him. “I’m on Malfoy’s case,” he suddenly blurted. “Tonks and Kingsley had field work to do, thought I’d be best on the job. Dunno what the hell they were thinking. I’ve been up all night reviewing the accident and medical reports.”
“Were you now?” said Ron, raising his eyebrows. Ever since Harry’s accident two years ago, he’d been assigned to strict desk duty in an attempt to keep him at the Ministry. He’d become quite the investigator in those few short years. Ron knew that Harry was hoping to leave the Ministry soon and start his own investigation company, and hopefully, after he was settled, propose to Luna.
“Yeah.” Harry blew out a breath, then said, “Since you’re now his assigned Healer, I figured it was all right to go over a few things with you.”
“Sure, Harry. Just gimme a few minutes to dress and then we can talk about it over breakfast.”
Ron didn’t have a chance to leave the room, however, before Richard came sidling in wearing nothing but boxers and looking as if he’d had the shag of his life.
Upon spotting Harry, Richard smiled slightly and said, “Hullo, Harry,” before pouring himself a cup of coffee and scratching his arse. Harry’s jaw landed somewhere near his knees and he gave Ron such an incredulous look that he felt himself flush.
Biting his lip, Ron practically pounced on Richard and whispered in his ear, “Richie, Harry and I were just about to talk about Malfoy’s case. Just him and me, you know?”
“Oh.” Richard looked between Ron’s anxious red face and Harry’s gobsmacked expression. “All right. I’ll just be on my way. Nice to see you, Harry. Owl me later, love.” Richard leaned over and gave Ron a wet kiss on the mouth, then exited the kitchen. A few minutes later, the front door could be heard opening and closing.
Several more very awkward minutes passed. Ron scuffed his toe against the floor while Harry continued to sip an empty cup. Finally, Harry said, “I thought you and Richard had called it quits months ago.”
“We did.”
Harry gave him an expectant look. Sighing, Ron plopped down in the chair opposite Harry and said, “I met him last night at the Leaky Cauldron. I was drunk; he was broom-lagged. It was just a shag, a bit of release, that’s all. Don’t worry yourself about it.”
Ron peeked up from beneath his fringe to see his friend frowning. Harry caught his eye then and managed to look chagrined. “You’re right,” he said finally. “Your love life is none of my business. Let’s talk about Malfoy, shall we?”
Chuckling, Ron nodded and got up from the table to dress and then to serve breakfast. Once they were eating and had caught up on the local news (apparently Seamus was seen all but shagging Lavender Brown last weekend in Hogsmeade on a table at the Three Broomsticks), they began discussing Malfoy’s case.
“All right,” Harry mumbled as he opened up a large file, “lessee...Okay. So, after further investigation by on-site Aurors, we can now confirm that the blast was caused by Dark magic originating from a wand. Unfortunately, given the potions and fumes that resulted, we aren’t able to pinpoint the spell that was initially used.” Harry sat back in his chair and rubbed his stubbly chin.
“Additionally, there are observation charms set up all over the Ministry and St. Mungo’s. We tried to reveal the events surrounding the explosion, but apparently the perpetrator knew about these charms and deactivated them. We never saw his face.”
“His face?” Ron interrupted, leaning forward. “How d’you know it’s a he?”
“Well, he might’ve been smart, but not that smart,” Harry said, looking a bit smug. “He deactivated the vision aspect of the spell, but not the aural. We heard everything that occurred between Wesley Scott and the attacker before the explosion. Now, this is where it gets a bit odd.”
Harry stood and limped over to the counter in order to pour himself another cup of coffee. Once seated, he said, “Whoever this bloke is, he speaks German, and from what our linguists say, it’s natural German-no trace of an accent. They think he was born into the language. They’re also saying that it’s official German, or something; they keep going on about no dialect. Anyway, he and Scott were arguing in German, and then all things went to hell. I’ve heard the recording, but I haven’t a clue what they’re saying. The translators are working on that and should get it back to us soon.”
Frowning, Ron shoveled one more bite of eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Swallowing, he said, “It had to’ve been an inside job. How else would he have known about the charms. Not too many people know about them. Only the higher-ups. People like me and Richard.”
“Exactly,” Harry murmured. “Which means we’ve got a killer among us. Listen, Ron. When Malfoy wakes up, will you contact me as soon as possible? I’ll need to interview him about the chain of events.”
“Sure, no problem,” Ron said.
Harry looked down at his watch. “I’ve got to run to the office. Let me know if anything new turns up.”
“You’ve got it.”
Ron walked Harry to his fireplace and watched as his friend Flooed away in a whirl of green flames.
~*~
“Good morning, Healer Weasley.”
“Good morning, Lucia,” Ron replied to his secretary at St. Mungo’s. “Any more developments with Malfoy?”
“Florence came by earlier,” she said as she followed Ron into his office. “They’ve removed the Stunning Spell, but he still hasn’t woken up yet. Otherwise, his condition is the same.”
Ron nodded absently and began to read his post. “What about the investigation into the explosion?”
“I think I can help with that.”
Ron’s head snapped up and he broke into a huge grin when he saw the familiar bushy-haired witch standing in his doorway. “Hermione! Come in, come in.”
After Lucia had scurried out of the office and closed the door behind her, Ron and Hermione embraced, albeit awkwardly. Pulling back, and still grinning stupidly, he said, “You look amazing. Look at this!” Cupping Hermione’s protruding belly with his hands, Ron sank to his knees and pressed his ear against her abdomen. “Hello in there,” he said, his bright eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s me, Uncle Ronnie. Who’s my favorite baby? Whosit?”
Laughing, Hermione batted Ron away and dropped into the nearest chair with an oompf. “Stop that,” she scolded teasingly.
Not to be deterred, Ron scuttled over to her on his knees and began talking to her tummy again. “Don’t listen to her, poppet, she’s just jealous of the lovely bond we hold.” Looking up, he asked, “How is baby Ronald?”
“We’re not naming him Ronald,” she replied with a chuckle. “Neville and I’ve decided on a name, though, finally: Michael Benjamin.”
“Michael Benjamin Granger-Longbottom,” he echoed, blinking. “That poor child’s going to have the longest name ever. Hmm…though I suppose it’ll do,” he murmured, turning his attention back to the baby. “Though it’s still not as good as Ronald.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Hermione soothed, running her fingers through Ron’s hair. “Get up, now, you’re squishing me.”
Hauling himself up, he planted a quick kiss to Hermione’s forehead and then went to sit behind his desk. “How are you, love? And the baby? And Neville?” he asked.
Hermione rubbed her stomach and smiled a little. “I’m doing well, and so is the baby. We’re right on schedule, so expect little Michael here to be born in three weeks. Hopefully Neville will be back from Florida by then.”
“How’s his research coming?”
Hermione’s face lit up, and Ron panicked. It was her “I’m So Excited About Research and I’m Going to Tell Everyone” face. Although he was interested in the experiments Neville was conducting in the Florida Everglades, he didn’t really have the time at the moment to listen to what looked like was going to be a good hour-long explanation. “Oh, it’s going really great!”
“Er, actually, um-” Ron bit his lip and cast wildly about in his mind. Why was Hermione here again?
“You said you have information about Malfoy’s case?” he asked quickly
It worked. Hermione’s mouth shut with a snap, and for a moment she looked confused, but then she composed herself and pulled out a large manila folder. “This is from the translators and this packet here contains the potions that Scott and Malfoy were working on at the time of the explosion.”
Opening the folder, Ron skimmed over the potion list. “I’m not seeing anything here that would be considered Dark,” he said, frowning. “Hermione, if your department had them working on some kind of potion you don’t want the rest of the world to know about, I understand that, but I need to know in order to help with Malfoy’s recovery. You can trust me.”
“Ron, I know I can trust you,” she said, leaning forward and looking him straight in the eye. “But I swear to you, that list is it. We didn’t have them working on anything new, just already known potions. The full moon is approaching, and after the Werewolf Freedom Act of 2000 was passed by the Ministry-”
“That you passed.”
“After it was passed,” she repeated, blushing, “the production and distribution of Wolfsbane to all werewolves became the responsibility of the Wizarding government. Wesley Scott and Draco Malfoy are the only two wizards under Ministry contract who can make the potion, so it falls-fell on them. That’s all they’d been working on for the past week leading up to the explosion.”
“All right, all right,” he conceded. “Then the attacker produced the Dark magic alone. Fantastic...”
“You want to know what else is fantastic?” Hermione asked. “Read the transcript between the attacker and Scott.”
Ron flipped through a few pages and then frowned. Grumbling to himself, he patted at the pockets of his robes until he found his reading glasses. He slipped them on, ignoring Hermione’s teasing, “So sexy,” and began to read.
26 October 2004
Ministry of Magic
Department of Magical Research and Development
Head: Hermione J. Granger-Longbottom
Committee on Experimental Potions
Head: Wesley T. Scott [deceased]
Apprentice: Draco L. C. O. Malfoy
Ron stopped reading and looked up. “Draco L. C. O. Malfoy?” he said incredulously. “I lied; his name is the longest in history.”
“Oh, hush up and read.”
Below is a translated conversation between Wesley Scott (WS), Draco Malfoy (DM), and an unidentified wizard (UW) that took place on 24 October 2004 at approximately 20:40 hours.:
WS: Make sure you slice along the peripheral edge of that seed. Best way to get all the juice.
DM: I was taught to flatten the seed with the side of my knife in order to get the most amount of juice, sir.
WS: [long pause] Did the Death Eater teach ya that, boy?
DM: Yes. And sir, I’m twenty-four years old. Do not call me boy.
WS: Listen to me, boy, I’m gonna give you some good advice and I expect you to follow it, d’you hear? Whatever it is that Death Eater told you, you need to ignore, to forget. It won’t help ya, d’you hear? Your loyalty to scum like that is what’s holdin’ ya back, boy.
DM: Stop calling me boy! [silence, then approaching footsteps]
UW: Excuse me. I need to speak with Master Scott.
WS: Well what are you doing all the way down here so late?
UW: I was hoping to speak with Malfoy alone.
WS: I...What?
UW: Draco Malfoy, I want to speak with him.
WS: Wait-Hey! Wait, you can’t-put that down! Draco! No!
DM: Get away from-Wesley! Fuck, help! Somebody! [loud scuffle ensues]
UW: Get out of my way, Scott!
WS: Let him go! [glass breaks, screaming and shouting]
DM: Wesley, look out!
UW: Stop interfering, old man! Avada Kedavra!
DM: NO! [loud thump, scuffling, gasping]
UW: Put him down!
DM: What? I don’t speak German, you idiot!
UW: Let him go and stand up to face your death like a man!
DM: SOMEBODY HELP US!
UW: Silencio! If you wish to die on the ground like an animal, then so be it. Avada Kedavra! [explosion]
[Recording ends]
Ron slowly lowered the transcript and took off his glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of his robes. “The attacker cast the Killing Curse, but Malfoy’s obviously not dead, so...he must have dived, or-or thrown something that blocked the spell, causing the explosion, which would explain why he didn’t shield his face.”
Looking back over the document, he said, “Scott must have known the wizard-he asked him why he was down in the potions lab so late...Turns out...”
“It was to kill Malfoy,” Hermione concluded softly. “Possibly revenge, though for what, we don’t know, and won’t know, until Malfoy wakes up and can tell us.”
“If he can tell us,” Ron murmured.
“What do you mean?”
Ron paused for a few moments to think. “When he wakes, he’s going to be hurting, not just physically, but mentally. He’s blind now, and even if that blindness is only temporary, it can still be both shocking and debilitating for him. It’s going to take a lot of adjusting for Malfoy-he won’t be allowed a wand until his eyesight returns and he’ll be dependent upon others for help in simple every day activities, such as eating, dressing, and even bathing and other activities contained in the loo.” Leaning back in his chair, Ron absently paged through the file in front of him. “It’ll take a while for him to adjust. Hopefully he’ll be able to utilize the senses that remain in order to help him on his way to recovery. However, if he does...end up permanently blind, then we’ll see about getting either transplants or the advanced orbs like the kind Moody used to have.”
Hermione suppressed a wince badly. “What? What is it?” Ron asked.
“Well...” she began, “you see, the reason Malfoy was working as an apprentice was because, well...After Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to death in 2000, the Ministry seized all his assets, which included all his money. Draco and his mum were completely Knutless after that, so he had to go and work for a living. When the potions apprenticeship opened up, he jumped at the chance and he’s been doing that ever since.”
“What about his mother?” said Ron. “Whatever happened to her?”
“Well, she managed to survive the war, but she fell down a flight of stairs a couple of years ago and broke her neck. She died.”
“Damn,” he muttered. “Malfoy’s not exactly been the luckiest bloke, has he?”
“He was also under heavy Ministry protection for a while back,” Hermione informed Ron. “Apparently he’d been getting death threats from former and unaccounted-for Death Eaters. I suppose they didn’t appreciate being betrayed by him when he came to our side during the war.”
“No kidding.”
Hermione snorted delicately. She looked at her watch then, and said, “I’d best be off now. There’s a ton of paperwork I need to fill out about this whole disaster. Let me know about any further developments concerning Malfoy.”
Ron smiled and got up from his chair. “Will do, love.”
“Excellent. Now be a doll and help me out of this chair.”
A few acrobatic feats later, Ron managed to get Hermione out of the chair, and after one last peck on the cheek, he watched her waddle off down the corridor with a smile on his face.
“Healer Weasley, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” came Lucia’s no-nonsense voice. Turning around, Ron was amused to see that the older woman’s grey-streaked black hair was a bit mussed and her wrinkled cheeks were flushed.
“What is it, Lu?”
Lucia huffed at the nickname but ignored it to say, “That-woman-was by to speak with you. I had to argue with her for nearly the entire time you were in your office with Mrs. Granger-Longbottom. That woman is utterly-totally insufferable-just-oh! She is so frustrating and annoying...”
“Lucia. Who are we talking about?” Ron said, fighting back laughter.
“Healer O’Shaughnessy, of course!”
“Ah...” Ron made a face. “Well. Thank you, Lu, for keeping her away from me. I appreciate it, but I suppose I’m going to have to face her eventually. If she stops by again, tell her I’m very busy plucking my eyebrows, but I will be by after my shift is over to see her. I’m off to see Draco Malfoy now.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, writing down a note with a pencil she’d taken from somewhere within her hair. “Also, Harry Potter sent an owl asking about Mr. Malfoy. How should I respond?”
Ron thought for a moment, then said, “Tell him to come on down here. We need to talk.”
Lucia nodded and then wandered back to her desk. Ron stared at a blank wall, thinking, before taking a deep breath and walking down the corridor and towards Malfoy’s room.
~*~
“He, er, just woke up,” said Florence.
“I can see that,” Ron replied wearily, looking at the current wreckage. Malfoy was thrashing about on his bed, shouting at the top of his lungs and struggling against the bindings that were holding him down. The room itself was trashed; debris cluttered the floor, the bed sheets were strewn about, and several decorative potted plants were now lying in heaps of dirt on the floor.
“Let me out of here! Let me go! Let me go, let me go, let me go!” Draco screamed from his bed.
“Shall we Stun him again, sir?” Florence asked anxiously.
“No,” Ron said firmly. “Too many of those will bring on catatonia. Let me handle this.”
Ron strode over to Malfoy’s bed. He carefully bent over Malfoy and ran his wand over his body and eyes, especially. While he was now fully cured from his injuries in the explosion, Malfoy’s eyes were still damaged by Dark properties.
Malfoy’s screams were dying down but he was still struggling against the bonds. His eyes were wide open, and even though he could not see, Ron could tell that Malfoy was extremely frightened and scared.
“I know someone’s near me!” Malfoy said wildly. “I can feel you! Let me go! Do you have any idea who I am, you imbecile? Tell me what happened to my eyes! Remove the charms or-or whatever they are and let me see!”
Ron placed his wand on the nightstand next to the bed and he noticed that Malfoy turned his head in the same direction. His eyes were still darting about the room frantically.
“You heard that, didn’t you?” Ron asked is a soft voice. Malfoy stopped shouting and only his heavy breathing could be heard. Ron watched him carefully and then said, “Your other senses are already strengthening, becoming more acute. They’re making up for the lack of sight.”
Malfoy looked as if he wanted to shout again, but he miraculously held himself back for once. He stopped struggling against the bonds, though Ron could tell that he was still shaking. Ron took a few moments to study Malfoy, having not seen the other man in quite a few years, though Ron hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to seek him out, either. Malfoy’s hair was still as white as ever, but it was short and cropped. Ron suspected that he’d had it cut that way to prevent his hair from getting mixed with the potions. His eyes were still a steely grey color, although now they had a glazed look about them. Otherwise, Malfoy still looked the same as he ever had-his face was still pointy and angled, his eyes slightly slanted, and not even a hint of hair could be seen growing on his chin. Malfoy did seem as if he’d put on some weight, Ron thought, which helped him look less lanky and child-like.
Ron hated to admit it, but Malfoy looked...all right. For a twitchy ferret, anyway.
“So...” Malfoy wheezed, and Ron started. “What are you doing here, Weasley? Come to clean up the mess I made?”
Lip curling, Ron said, “Actually, Draco, I’m your Healer. How’d you recognize me?”
“All weasels smell the same,” he retorted, and then he smirked. Ron couldn’t believe it. Here he was, trying to heal the little bastard, and Malfoy was smirking at him!
“I see you haven’t changed, Draco,” Ron said through gritted teeth. Several Mediwitches backed away slowly.
“Why change something that doesn’t need changing?” Malfoy grinned crookedly. “And I’m Draco now? How kind of you to condescend to call a former Death Eater by its first name.”
“Shut up,” Ron snapped irritably. Malfoy had always had a way of pissing Ron off no matter what he said. Actually, Malfoy’s very existence often just ruffled Ron’s feathers the wrong way. “If you want to get out of those restraints, you’re going to have to show a little bit more respect and courtesy towards myself and my staff.”
Malfoy snorted decisively. “Like how your staff allowed me to suffer in pain the other night?” he sneered.
“I wasn’t in charge of you then,” Ron corrected, and picked up his wand to begin running more diagnostics. The Mediwitches in the room began to go back to their work after having warily watched the exchange between Ron and Malfoy. “But I am now, and if you are in pain, you need to tell me or else we won’t be able to treat you and fix your eyes.”
Malfoy suddenly began struggling against the bonds again. “What happened to my eyes?” he shouted. “Return my sight this instant! I want another Healer! I demand to have another Healer, this one’s incompetent!”
“Fuck,” Ron muttered. He dropped his wand into his robe pocket and leant over Malfoy’s writhing body, pinning the man’s wrists down. Thrusting his face into Malfoy’s, he said in a deadly voice, “Now you listen to me. I’m your Healer, and nothing you say will change that, do you hear me?” Malfoy’s faced twisted in anger but he remained silent. “I’m the only one who can heal you, and frankly, probably the only one who’s willing to put up with your shite. You wanna be a little bitch about everything? Then fine, but remember, you and I are going to be very close over the next few months, so it’s up to you. If you want to cooperate, your eyesight will return much more quickly, but if you continue what you’re doing now, then it’ll be a question of whether your sight will ever return. Do I make myself clear?”
It looked as if it was taking all his energy not to spit in Ron’s face, but after several tense moments, Malfoy finally nodded reluctantly, and Ron backed away. He took his wand back out of his pocket and began running tests again. “You were in an explosion,” he told Malfoy, who’s lip curled as if to say, “No kidding.” Ron rolled his eyes and continued, “You were in an explosion in the potions lab at the Ministry. We know that a man tried to kill you, but Wesley Scott died instead.”
“Wes is dead?” Malfoy interrupted. His face was pale and he looked shocked and a bit distressed.
Ron paused for a moment, frowning. “Yes,” he said slowly.
Malfoy blew out a breath and turned his head away, not answering.
Ron, feeling a bit out of his element for some reason, cleared his throat and said, “From what we understand of what happened, the attacker tried using the Killing Curse, but something interrupted the spell and it caused the explosion. The combination of flying debris, potions, and Dark magic caused the loss of sight. However, we do expect that you could recover your eyesight. There will be an Auror who will be stopping by shortly to ask you about the incident.”
Malfoy’s head whipped around at that. “I don’t want to talk to any Aurors,” he spat.
“That’s unfortunate,” Ron murmured, and then held a glass up to Malfoy’s thin lips. “Here, drink this potion.”
“Let me out of the bonds and I’ll drink it.”
Ron raised his eyebrows and felt impressed in spite of himself. “This isn’t a series of negotiations. This is a restorative draught for your eyes. I reckon you’ll want to take it.”
“There’s no reason to keep me tied down,” Malfoy argued, his voice rising. “What the fuck are you afraid I’ll do? Run?” He laughed caustically.
“Now see, this is a problem,” Ron said, leaning against the bed. “If I let you go, then it might be a signal to you that you can bargain and negotiate your way out of taking potions, or eating, or any other activity, but on the other hand, I don’t see any reason to keep you bound. It’s quite a conundrum, don’t you think?”
“You don’t even know what conundrum means,” Malfoy said viciously. “For fuck’s sake, Weasley, I’ll drink all the bloody potions, just let me go!”
Ron was very tempted to chide Malfoy for his language, but decided against it at the last moment. Instead, he flicked his wand and the invisible bonds holding Malfoy down disappeared. He immediately sat up and brought his wrists together, massaging them.
“Oh, thank you, Weasley. I’m ever so grateful,” he drawled sarcastically. Ron sighed. Some things never changed.
Luckily, Malfoy remained silent for the rest of the examination, for which Ron was extremely thankful. But then Harry had to go and ruin it. Ron was just finishing placing drops into Malfoy’s eyes when the door to his room opened and Harry stepped inside. Malfoy sat up in a flash, his nostrils flaring, and said, “What is he doing here?”
Harry stopped dead in his tracks and gave Ron a stunned look, who in turn gave Malfoy an impressed one. “How’d you tell it was him?” Ron asked.
“All the air in the room disappeared when Potter’s head entered it,” Malfoy said snidely.
“It’s a pleasure to see you, too, Malfoy,” Harry said in false cheerfulness. “Your wit and general sunny disposition are always the bright points in my day. How do you manage to maintain that attitude of yours?”
“Well, one always has an appreciation for life after one was locked away in a high-security prison for a year,” Malfoy returned, his lip curling and eyes narrowing, though he was looking about five feet to the left of where Harry was standing.
“No less than you deserved,” snapped Harry.
“As touching as this little reunion is,” Ron interrupted loudly, “Harry, Malfoy’s awake; Malfoy, Harry’s the Auror that will be taking your official statement. If we could work together in a war, I figure we can work together for this. Now both of you shut the hell up.”
Malfoy threw himself back against his pillows and crossed his arms sulkily, while Harry stormed across the room and came to stand beside his bed. Ron sighed again. This was what it was like during the war, too. Malfoy on one side of the room, Harry on the other, and he and Hermione stuck in the middle maintaining peace. Ron quickly tired of it then, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand for it while they were in his hospital.
Harry pulled out a notepad and quill, and after placing a charm on the quill, said, “This is Auror Harry Potter, interviewing Draco Malfoy about the events that occurred on the evening of 24 October 2004. Today’s date is 26 October 2004 and it is 10:38 in the morning.” Harry paused for a moment, and then asked, “For the record, please state your name, age, and prison identification number.”
Malfoy stared at Harry, though the effect was lost somewhat since he still wasn’t quite looking in the right direction. “Are you kidding me? You just said my name.”
“Just do it, Malfoy!”
He gave a long-suffering sigh and said, “My name is Draco Lucius Cygnus Orion Malfoy, I am twenty-four years old, and my I.D. number is 050680963.”
“Where were you on the night of October 24th?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes and then winced.
“Do your eyes hurt?” Ron asked quickly.
“No…” he said. He blinked a few times and then shook his head. He looked up in Harry’s direction and said, “I was working in the Ministry’s potions laboratory with Wesley Scott.”
“What potion or potions were you working on?” Harry asked, the quill scribbling furiously in the background.
“Wolfsbane, mainly,” Malfoy said. “But also a few others for St. Mungo’s, like blood-replenishing and others.”
“Were you working on anything illegal?”
“Do I look stupid?”
“Answer the question.”
“No, you idiot,” Malfoy sniped. “Wes wouldn’t have had anything to do with illegal or Dark potions.”
“What were you doing when the unidentified man approached you and Wesley Scott?”
Malfoy frowned and closed his eyes. “I don’t remember,” he said slowly. “I think…slicing or…or cutting up some seeds or ingredients or something.” He opened his eyes, still frowning.
“And Scott? What was he doing?” Harry pressed.
“Just working on a potion.”
“Are you sure? Which potion?”
“Yes, and Wolfsbane. You suck at asking relevant questions, Potter.”
“Shut it, Malfoy,” Ron said.
Malfoy’s eyes widened and a small smirk formed on his mouth. “Well, well, look who’s grown a pair since the last time we were together.”
“Shut it,” Harry hissed, “or you’ll regret it. Next question: did you see the attacker when he first approached?”
“No, he stayed in the main area in the front while I remained in the back with the potions.”
“Did you hear what Scott and the other wizard were discussing?”
Malfoy rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck. “No,” he said at last. “They were speaking in German. I only know French, Latin, Italian, and Greek. Father said he didn’t want me learning such a base language.” Ron rolled his eyes.
“What about when he attacked you?” Harry asked. “We know that at one point you two were engaged in a struggle.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “He jumped me while my back was to him.”
“Did he say anything?”
“What part of ‘I don’t understand German’ don’t you comprehend?”
Harry frowned and flipped through his notes. “You mean that the man spoke in nothing but German during the entire encounter? You have no idea what he said?”
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Malfoy drawled. “Correct. I don’t know what he said. Merlin, but you are an idiot. No wonder they let you be an Auror.”
“I worked to be an Auror just like everybody else!” Harry protested, and Ron dropped his face into his hands.
Clearly enjoying himself, Malfoy said, “Is that really what you believe?”
“Are you almost done questioning him?” said Ron quickly, placing a calming hand on Harry’s shoulder.
Swallowing, Harry took a deep breath and asked, “When the wizard killed Scott, what did you do?”
Malfoy was quiet for a very long time, and Harry was about to question him again when he said, “I dropped to the floor. Wes-he had fallen...I wanted to-to see if he was really dead.” Malfoy licked his lips and let his head fall backwards against his pillow, exposing his long, white neck. Ron felt his stomach lurch.
“The maniac just kept spouting off German, and I kept shouting back, and then he said the Killing Curse.”
“What did you do next?” said Harry.
“I don’t remember,” Malfoy muttered. “I think I tried to duck or something.”
Ron gave Harry a look. “Ask if he threw a potion to block the curse,” he whispered.
“I wouldn’t have been that stupid,” snapped Malfoy, whose angry gaze was settled somewhere around Ron’s left shoulder. “I know better than to throw volatile potions at a volatile curse. I just...tried to get out of the way. I don’t know.”
“Would you be able to recognize your attacker and Scott’s murderer?” Harry asked.
“Maybe,” said Malfoy, rubbing tiredly at his face. “It was dark and I was sort of having a nervous breakdown at the time. I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“Could you describe the wizard?”
Malfoy’s turned his head. “Maybe...He was average height, maybe a little taller. No distinguishing features that I can remember. He was blond, but not my blond; it was yellow blond.”
Harry gave Ron a Look and then shuffled through some of his notes for a few moments while Ron took that time to study Malfoy again. His face was slightly flushed and scrunched up unattractively. Sweat was forming on his brow and his jaw appeared to be clenched.
“Malfoy,” said Ron softly, “are you in any pain?”
“I’m fine,” he hissed. “I need the loo. Where is it?”
“Here, let me help you-”
“I don’t need your help!” Malfoy shouted, flailing his arms when he felt Ron’s presence too close to his body. “I know how to take a fucking piss!”
“I’ve got everything I need here,” Harry said, eyeing Malfoy dubiously. “I’ll let you know if there are any updates or developments. “’Bye, Ron.” He was out the door in a flash, leaving Ron alone in the room with an irritable and very moody Draco Malfoy, who had managed to get off the bed and was now making his way in the opposite direction of the loo.
“I thought you wanted to use the loo,” Ron called to him. Malfoy stopped and cocked his head in Ron’s direction.
“I am,” he said shortly.
Rocking on the balls of his feet, Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “Well, you might want to try turning around, because if you keep going the way you are, you’re going to run straight into a brick wall.”
Malfoy scowled and slowly turned around. His eyes were wide and unseeing, his arms held parallel to the ground and feeling at the air. “Which way is it?” he growled, cheeks pink.
And this was where the Healing began. This was what Ron was best at. Healing physical injuries were very simple now in the magical community, but it was the mind that proved to be the hardest challenge. Being able to ask for help, and being able to accept it, was usually the most difficult part of the healing process. Witches and wizards were so used to their independence, so used to having their injuries healed with a flick of a wand, that anything beyond that was oftentimes unheard of. Which was why Ron Weasley was an expert. He knew just the right words to say, in just the right way and at just the right time. He could develop lasting relationships with the meanest of wizards; he could convince the oldest of crones that she needed to take a certain potion. Ron was good at his job, and he knew it. Now it was time to see if all his training would hold up against the most annoying person alive.
Ron licked his lips and then walked over to stand in front of the bathroom door. He was pleased to notice that Malfoy’s head followed the noise. “I’m standing in front of it. See if you can follow the sound of my voice and walk your way over to me.”
Malfoy was very still and Ron could hear his heavy breathing. Finally, he said, “What the hell kind of game are you playing, Weasley?”
Suppressing the strong urge to sigh, Ron counted to ten and then replied, “This isn’t a game, Malfoy. I’m attempting to help you better adapt to your surroundings now that your sight is gone.”
“I thought you said my eyesight would return!” he said shrilly.
“If you cooperate!” Ron returned. “Accepting my help isn’t going to make you weak, Malfoy.”
Malfoy sneered at him. “I’m not weak! And what if I don’t want the help of a weasel?”
“Then you’re fuck out of luck,” Ron ground out, finding it hard to suppress his anger. Malfoy always had a way of pushing his buttons, no matter what measures Ron took to keep his temper under control. “I’m your only way out of this situation, so it’s time to suck it up and listen to me.”
A loud silence followed as Ron and Malfoy stood on opposite sides of the hospital room and sneered at one another.
The next thing Ron knew, Malfoy was striding across the room, and heading straight towards him. And the bed, which happened to be standing between the two men.
Eyes wide, Ron cried out, “Wait, Malfoy-!” But it was too late. Malfoy ran straight into the metal frame of the bed and crumpled to the floor, howling in pain. Ron rushed around the end of the bed and crouched down to Malfoy’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.
Malfoy’s face was screwed up in pain and he was crutching at his groin. “I’m fine,” he gasped. “Incapable of siring children, but fine.”
Ron guffawed, and then clapped a hand over his mouth.
“I’m glad you think my pain is funny, Weasley!” Malfoy barked in a pained voice, and then let out a low moan. “Aw, bloody hell...”
“Here, let me see,” Ron said, taking pity on the other man, and tried to bat his hands away.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Malfoy squawked, flapping his arms. “Don’t touch me!”
“Do you want me to make it feel better or not?” Ron snapped irritably.
“Not if it involves you touching me!”
“Fine!” Ron stood up and backed away. “Stay there rolling around on the floor. See if I care.”
Grunting and shuffling was all the reply he would get, it seemed, as Malfoy was determined to do as much for himself as possible. After a few more minutes hissing in pain on the floor, he managed to pull himself into a sitting position, and then finally stood up with the aid of the bed. He stood slightly hunched, as if his groin was still giving him pain, but looked quite pleased with himself that he did all that on his own.
“Congratulations, Malfoy,” Ron said jovially. “You were able to accomplish what any nine-month-old could do: stand.”
“Piss off,” Malfoy muttered. “Now where the hell is the loo?”
Ron paused for a moment, taking in Malfoy’s determined face and stiff resolution. “You’ll have to feel your way there,” he said at last. “Can you figure out how?”
Malfoy frowned and turned his head away from Ron. “You were on the other side of the bed, and before, you said that you were by the loo. So it stands to reason that the door to the loo is on the other side of the bed.”
Ron nodded. “Correct.”
“This isn’t a test,” snapped Malfoy. “You don’t need to reward me with praise and treats every time I do something right.”
Ignoring his attitude, Ron remained silent and watched as Malfoy tentatively patted the side of the bed, and then began to move. He made it to the end of the bed before stubbing his toe. Hissing and swearing, he followed the bed’s shape until he was on the other side. He let go and thrust his arms out wide, taking small steps towards a plant in the corner. Malfoy ran into the wall with a dull thud and began feeling his way up and down the brick. Finally, after several tense moments in which Malfoy studied a thick groove in the wall, he was able to find the door that led to the loo.
“I found it!” he crowed, and Ron shook his head in disbelief and amusement. Malfoy disappeared into the loo, and except for a loud crashing noise, seemed to have no problem. It wasn’t until Ron was on his third page of notes in his notebook, however, that he realized Malfoy was still in the loo. Concerned, he was about to go knock when the door to the hospital room opened and then slammed shut.
Startled, Ron whirled around, ready to chastise if necessary, only to find a fuming Maureen O’Shaughnessy glaring at him with a truly ugly look on her round, flat face. For a moment, she reminded Ron of Hermione when she was angry, what with the curly brown hair and dark brown eyes, but Hermione was beautiful when she was angry; O’Shaughnessy was most definitely not.
Bloody hell, not now, Ron thought with a scowl. “What is it, O’Shaughnessy?” he asked in exasperation.
“I told your secretary that I needed to speak with you hours ago!” she shrieked.
“I’ve been busy with a patient,” Ron shot back. “Last time I checked, they were a tad more important.”
O’Shaughnessy exhaled loudly through her nose, sounding vaguely like a snorting bull. She looked around the room in an exaggerated manner and held up her hands. “Where is he, then?” she asked spitefully. “Where is the little Death Eater?”
“You are out of line,” Ron warned, his anger rising dangerously.
“How can you even stand to be in the same room with him?” she demanded in a piercing tone. “After everything he’s done, after the way his father murdered your sister-”
“GET OUT!” Ron roared, shaking with fury. O’Shaughnessy’s eyes widened in fear and she quickly stumbled out of the room, closing the door behind her. Still shaking, his knees weak, Ron stumbled backwards until he ran into the bed. He sank gratefully onto its surface, the sheer blind rage slowly dissipating as reality sunk in. Ron’s chest constricted at the mere thought of Ginny and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing her memory from his head. Hand clutching at his chest, Ron struggled to get his breathing under control again.
He sat in silence for what felt like ages until a small, hesitant voice spoke up. “Weasley...?”
Ron nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. Leaping off the bed, he spun around and saw Malfoy standing uncertainly in the threshold to the loo with a towel around his waist. His hair was wet and matted, and there were some stray soap bubbles on his shoulders. It looked as if Malfoy had taken a shower while he was in there.
“Yeah?” Ron croaked, and then cleared his throat. “Is everything all right?” he tried again, grateful his voice no longer sounded strained.
Malfoy looked particularly pale, though there were two bright pink spots on his cheeks. It was then Ron realized that he must have heard the shouting match between him and O’Shaughnessy. Feeling flushed and shaky, Ron ran a hand through his hand and slowly blew out a breath. He looked back to Malfoy and felt his stomach lurch again, especially after he really realized that Malfoy was, in fact, wearing only a towel. There was another lurch, but this time, Ron understood that that kind of lurch had nothing to do with how he had been feeling.
It was desire.
“I’ve got to go,” Ron half shouted. Malfoy swallowed and nodded tentatively. “I’ll have the Mediwitches come in and help you get ready for dinner,” he continued to ramble. “And then I’ll be back, but probably not ‘til tomorrow. I’ll see ya, Malfoy!”
Feeling utterly foolish, Ron rushed out of the room and all but ran straight to his office. Once safely inside, Ron collapsed into his chair and buried his head in his hands. The sheer number of emotions coursing through him was overwhelming, and Ron allowed himself to hiccup and cough and squeeze back tears until he felt he was ready to face the Real World again.
Raising his head, Ron took a deep breath and let it out. He was okay. Okay. Yes, he was fine. O’Shaughnessy’s a great giant-well, Ron had many names for Maureen O’Shaughnessy. And Malfoy, well, that wasn’t anything-that was nothing, nothing at all. Ron was still just reeling from his argument with O’Shaughnessy, that’s all. And, come on, he was a gay man. Of course he’d notice when other handsome men were nearly starkers! It was only natural. Right?
“Healer Weasley?”
Ron yelped in surprise and nearly jumped out of his seat. “What is it, Lu?” he gasped.
Lucia raised a heavily painted eyebrow. “Er, this just came for you, sir.” She held out her hand to reveal a blood-red piece of parchment, and Ron’s heart sank into his stomach.
~*~
Part II