I do not own the characters; they belong to the brilliant JK. I’m only taking them for a little spin around the block. I promise not to harm them (ok, maybe I’ll harm them a little bit, but only for drama’s sake!), so please do not send any lawyers after me.
Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan
Feasts and Beasts
Ginny stepped out of the tub in the hospital wing as her mother held out a thick towel to her. "Feel better?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
Ginny didn’t answer as she ignored the towel and stood watching the filthy water swirl down the drain. "I won’t wash away as easily as that dirt," Tom taunted her. Ginny shook her head to try to shake off his voice.
"Wait a minute, honey, I think we missed a spot," Mrs. Weasley said, noticing a mark on Ginny’s lower back as she wrapped the young girl in the towel. Ginny looked over her shoulder, trying to see her back, as Molly picked up a washcloth. Molly wiped at the mark, which shrank away at her touch, but returned when she pulled her hand away.
"Did you get it?" asked Ginny.
Mrs. Weasley didn’t answer as she bent closer to look at the mark, which again dissolved into Ginny’s skin.
"It won’t come off, Ginny," Tom murmured. "I marked you. You’re mine forever."
"Mum?" Ginny said, a twinge of panic in her voice, as Tom’s harsh laughter echoed in her head.
"It’s fine, dear, just a bit of mud," Mrs. Weasley said, no longer seeing the mark. She put her arms around Ginny and hugged her tightly.
"Why is she always touching us? Make her go away," Tom commanded.
Ginny pulled away from her mother. "Stop it, I’m too big for hugs."
"You will never be too big for hugs." Mrs. Weasley kissed the top of Ginny’s head as she hugged her again. "Are you ready to get back to bed?"
"Can we go home?" Ginny said suddenly, pulling away again.
"Home? To the Burrow?" Ginny nodded. "That’s a long trip, dear. By the time we got home, it would be time for you to come back to take your exams."
"I don’t want to come back," declared Ginny. "I don’t ever want to come back here again."
"That won’t help you escape me, my beautiful Ginevra," murmured Tom. "I’ll follow you wherever you go."
"Honey, you don’t mean that," Mrs. Weasley insisted as she pulled a nightshirt over Ginny’s head. "You’ll see, things will look better in the morning after you’ve had a good night’s sleep."
"I can’t see anything with this bloody thing over my face," Ginny muttered as she struggled to get her head and arms through the holes of the top.
"Watch your mouth, young lady," Mrs. Weasley scolded.
"Leave me alone!" Ginny shot back, finally getting the nightshirt on and stalking away from her mother back toward her bed.
A shocked Molly just stood looking after her.
Madame Pomfrey started toward Ginny but was distracted by Snape entering, floating the unconscious Malfoy in front of him.
"What happened?" Madame Pomfrey demanded.
Snape glanced over at the Weasleys, most of who were still gathered by Ginny’s bed, but they were engrossed in conversation and didn’t seem to notice his entrance.
Ginny, though, stopped short when she saw the stretcher. "Move along, Miss Weasley," Snape snapped, but Ginny didn’t move.
"Goodness, what happened?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, bustling over to them. She instinctively brushed a stray lock of hair off Draco’s face.
"If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the boy into a bed," Snape told Mrs. Weasley curtly.
"Of course." Mrs. Weasley put her hands on Ginny’s shoulders. "Come along, Ginny, let’s get out of the way."
"I didn’t do that," Ginny murmured as her mother pulled her away from Snape and Malfoy.
"Of course you didn’t, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied, planting a distracted kiss on her daughter’s head.
"You should have, he’s an insufferable git, just like his grandfather," Tom muttered.
"I should have, though, he’s an insufferable git," Ginny repeated with a giggle. Her grin widened as she earned another horrified glance from her mother. "Well, he is, Mum."
"Ginevra…"
Ginny tuned out whatever scolding her mother was giving her, instead casting another glance at Malfoy as Madam Pomfrey leaned over him. "Professor Snape, what’s happened to the boy?" she heard the matron ask again.
Ginny cocked her head to listen. "I’m not sure," Snape lied smoothly. "He was found at the bottom of the dungeon stairs."
Suddenly Ginny felt a pull on her arm. "Come along, dear, let’s get you back into bed," Mrs. Weasley said, guiding Ginny toward her cot.
"A fall like that shouldn’t have knocked him unconscious," was the last thing Ginny heard Madame Pomfrey say to Snape. The matron looked Draco over. "Unless he hit his head on the stairs…" She examined his head, finding no bruising or bleeding. "That doesn’t appear to be the case."
"He said his back was hurting," Snape informed her.
"He was conscious then?"
"Yes, until he insisted on trying to stand so he could walk up here himself," Snape said with a shake of his head.
"Let’s put him in bed over here so I can examine him further," Madame Pomfrey instructed, pointing to the bed next to Ginny’s.
"I think he’d rather no other students saw him like this," Snape protested, pointing his head in the direction of the twins.
"I’ll put up a curtain. Get him into bed," Pomfrey ordered.
Snape reluctantly did so, blocking the view of the stretcher with his robes when Fred and George craned their necks curiously to see who was on it.
The twins shrugged and turned their attention back to Ginny as she approached. Fred scrambled to pull the soiled sheets off the bed, as George haphazardly threw on in their place the clean ones Madame Pomfrey had left.
Ginny gave them half-hearted smile as she looked around. "Where’s Ron?"
"He and Harry went to get cleaned up, too," Mr. Weasley explained.
"Harry was here?" Ginny squeaked.
"He came to check on you," Fred told her. "We couldn’t stand the stench, though – he and Ron smelled even worse than us after that 8-hour Quidditch match we had against Slytherin second year. So we chased them out."
"I bet they’ll be back," George predicted. "Harry was really worried about you, Gin."
"Such a sweet boy," Mrs. Weasley cooed.
As if on cue, Ron came loping into the hospital wing, his hair still wet and his robes thrown on haphazardly over a pair of jeans and a Chudley Canons tee shirt. A freshly-scrubbed Harry followed a few paces behind him.
Harry glanced curiously at Snape and Madame Pomfrey hovering over someone in the bed next to Ginny’s. Snape scowled and pulled a curtain around the bed, but not before Harry caught a glimpse of bleach-white hair on the pillow. "Was that Malfoy?" Harry whispered to Ron.
Ron shrugged. "If it is, I hope he’s really hurt."
"His father looked ready to kill after I set Dobby free," Harry worried. "What if he…"
"Better he take it out on his son than on you," Ron muttered. Harry remained sober. "C’mon, Harry, it’s Malfoy we’re talking about. What do you care if he’s hurt?"
"I’m tired of other people suffering because someone is angry at me," Harry declared with a sigh of frustration.
"But it’s Malfoy," Ron proclaimed.
"It’s not only him," Harry reminded Ron. "Ginny wouldn’t be in here either, if it wasn’t for me."
"Yeah, she’d be dead!" Ron exclaimed.
"You should be dead," Tom murmured to Ginny. "You’re never going to do anything in life, but you could have been great in death."
Ginny whimpered and curled into a ball under the covers. Her family didn’t notice, having been distracted by Ron’s outburst, but Ron did and hurried over to the bed.
"What’s wrong, Gin?" he murmured.
Ginny’s only answer was to grab his hand and cling to it tightly. Ron leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You’re safe here," he whispered.
"Am I?"
"Are you okay, Ginny?" asked Harry anxiously, looking over Ron’s shoulder.
Ginny rolled away from him, unable to meet Harry’s worried gaze. "I’m tired."
"You rest then," Mrs. Weasley told her, holding a small bottle of blue potion to Ginny’s lips. After Ginny drank it down, her mother smoothed out the blankets covering her and tenderly stroked Ginny’s hair. Ginny closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
"Boys, why don’t we get going?" Mr. Weasley suggested.
Ginny’s eyes flew open. "No, stay."
"All of us?" her father asked.
Ginny nodded. "So it’ll be like home."
"If you want it to be like home, we need Mom to cook something," George suggested.
"Yeah, I’m so hungry I could eat a hippogriff," Fred proclaimed.
"Then it’s a good thing we’re going to have a feast," declared a voice behind them.
Fred and George turned to see Dumbledore smiling at them.
"A feast?" George repeated.
"I thought a celebration was in order," Dumbledore explained. "Your sister has been safely returned to all of you, and the school is no longer in danger from internal or external forces."
"What about Hagrid?" wondered Ron.
"He’s to be released immediately, by order of the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore informed them. "And I’m sure he’s going to be quite glad to see you two," he added, smiling at the beaming Harry and Ron.
"Excuse me, Headmaster," interrupted Madame Pomfrey.
"Yes, Poppy?"
"May I speak with you alone, sir?" she requested.
Dumbledore’s brow furrowed worriedly. "Of course. Excuse me," he said to Harry and the Weasleys as he stepped around the curtains surrounding Ginny’s bed. "Yes?"
"I have a student who needs to go to St. Mungo’s," she told him. "He’s hurt quite badly, and I’m afraid I do not have the means to care for him properly."
"Who’s hurt?" asked Dumbledore worriedly. "What happened?"
He followed Madame Pomfrey around the curtains to Draco’s bed, where Draco lay deathly still, his pale face now almost translucent. "What happened?" Dumbledore questioned again.
"I was told he fell, sir," the matron answered. "Professor Snape found him at the bottom of the dungeon stairs."
"Where is Professor Snape now?" wondered Dumbledore.
"I believe he went to speak to his students about the boy’s injuries."
"He doesn’t believe Mr. Malfoy fell?" Dumbledore queried, a frown crossing his face.
"His injuries are not consistent with that," Madame Pomfrey revealed.
"Just how badly is he hurt?"
"More seriously than I’m equipped to treat here," the matron explained. "He’s bleeding internally. I’ve given him a potion to compensate for the blood he’s lost, but only a healer can properly repair the damage."
"Was it a spell that did this?" wondered Dumbledore.
"No, sir, it looks like…" She hesitated, frowning. "Someone beat him with something, sir," she burst out suddenly. "And he was kicked, too. You can see the prints from the person’s boot on the poor child’s back." She wrung her hand anxiously. "Could this have been the same person who carried the Weasley girl off?"
"No, that’s not possible," Dumbledore assured her. "Have the boy’s parents been notified? His father may still be nearby; he was in to see me not long ago."
Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "Professor Snape instructed me not to contact them," she revealed. "He refused to say why, but assured me that it was in the boy’s best interest."
Dumbledore’s brow furrowed again. "I’ll have to speak to Severus about that," he said sharply. "St. Mungo’s can’t treat the boy without permission. There’s a spell on him preventing it."
"Can you break it, sir?" Madame Pomfrey wondered. "We should not delay sending him. I fear he soon won’t be up to the trip."
"I’ll have Severus speak to his father."
Dumbledore strode over to the infirmary fireplace. He pulled a small pouch out of his robe pocket, took a pinch of powder out and tossed it into the fireplace. "Slytherin common room," he called.
His face appeared in the common room fire. "Severus," he called, causing several of the Slytherins gathered around the room to jump in surprise.
Snape, who was standing in the middle of the group of students, glanced over at the fireplace, barely disguising his scowl. "Yes, sir?"
"I need you back upstairs immediately," Dumbledore told him.
"Draco," whimpered Pansy, dissolving in a fresh wave of tears.
"Enough, Miss Parkinson," growled Snape. "Professor, I’m right in the middle of…"
"This can’t wait," Dumbledore interrupted sternly.
"I’ll be right there," said Snape with a sigh.
"As for the rest of you," Dumbledore called to the Slytherins, "there is a feast about to begin in the Great Hall, to celebrate the end of the troubles that have been plaguing our beloved school. Don’t even bother changing into your robes, just go as you are. Prefects, if you could lead the other students up there."
The prefects glanced uncertainly at Snape, who nodded. "Slytherins, come on," called a tall blond-haired boy, leading students toward the stairs that led out of the common room.
Pansy hung back from the rest of the crowed. "Professor…"
"Go with your housemates, Miss Parkinson," ordered Snape. "I will let you know if there is any information of which you need to be made aware."
Pansy opened her mouth to protest, but Snape had already stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.
Snape stepped out of the fireplace of the infirmary a moment later, brushing the soot off his robes. Dumbledore was waiting for him. "Severus, why won’t you let Madame Pomfrey contact Lucius Malfoy? We need his permission to take Draco to St. Mungo’s."
"He’s hurt that badly?" Snape asked, stalking over to Draco’s bedside. Draco still lay pale and unmoving. A sheet was pulled up to his chin, but Snape could see a bit of bare shoulder, which was purpled with bruises.
"He could die if we don’t get permission for St. Mungo’s to treat him," Dumbledore explained.
"I’ll give permission," stated Snape. "Surely as his godfather…"
Dumbledore shook his head. "The restrictions his father put on him clearly state he can’t receive any medicinal magic without parental permission. So please tell me why I shouldn’t summon Lucius back here immediately."
"I didn’t think that wise, seeing as Lucius was the one who did this," Snape stated matter-of-factly.
Madame Pomfrey gasped.
"Poppy, shouldn’t you check on Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked sharply.
"Her family is watching over her, and I’ve given her a potion for sleeping," Madame Pomfrey told him. "I would prefer not to leave the boy while his condition is so unstable."
Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "Very well, then. Severus, why don’t we speak over here?" he suggested, walking toward Madame Pomfrey’s small office. Snape followed him silently.
"Please explain," Dumbledore commanded once they were out of the earshot of the others.
"From what I’ve gathered, Lucius stormed into the common room looking for Draco, who was up in his room studying," Snape explained. "Lucius went up there, stayed for about 15 minutes, and then stormed out, appearing even angrier than he’d been when he arrived. Draco came down to the common room not long after and left, supposedly to come see me in my office. Pansy Parkinson was worried something was wrong, so she went after Draco and found him lying at the foot of the dungeon stairs."
"I was hoping that after Lucius left my office he wouldn’t encounter anyone on his way out of the castle," Dumbledore admitted somberly.
"I should have been told he was here," complained Snape. "I could have made sure Draco was protected."
"And then Lucius would have taken his anger out on you," Dumbledore reminded him.
"It wouldn’t be the first time," muttered Snape. "And I’m better prepared to fight him than Draco is."
"You can still protect Draco," Dumbledore told him. "Talk to Lucius, get permission for the boy to be properly treated."
"I’ll try."
"If he won’t give it, perhaps Narcissa…"
"She can’t go against Lucius," Snape interrupted.
"Not even to save her son’s life?" Snape shook his head. Dumbledore frowned. "Then you must make Lucius see reason. Surely he doesn’t want the boy to die."
"It might be kinder to let him go," murmured Snape.
"I don’t imagine Draco has had an easy time of it," Dumbledore said softly. "But surely a difficult life is better than no life at all."
"I’m not the one to ask," growled Snape as he stormed out of the hospital wing.
*************
A disheveled Lucius sat behind the desk in his study, a nearly-empty decanter in front of him matching the nearly-empty glass in his hand. Snape appeared suddenly in the fireplace across from his desk, but Lucius didn’t startle.
"I was wondering when you’d get here," he murmured to Snape.
"It would have been sooner if you’d taken the wards down," Snape grumbled, stepping out of the fireplace and brushing off his robes.
"It used to take you no time to get through those kind of obstacles, Severus," Lucius recalled with a cruel smile. "Working for Dumbledore is making you soft. That’s why I want Draco away from that school. I’d hate for him to turn out like you."
"That’s no reason to kill the boy," snapped Snape.
"He’s dead then?" questioned Lucius, his voice devoid of any emotion, although Snape noticed the decanter shook slightly in his hand as he poured himself the rest of the brandy.
"Not yet."
Lucius’ face registered something – Snape could have almost sworn it was relief – but it was quickly replaced by a stony expression. "He’s stronger than I thought," Lucius muttered, his words slurring slightly. "He should be dead."
"He will be if you don’t give us permission to take him to St. Mungo’s," Snape revealed. "They should be able to heal him, but as you know, their magic won’t work if they don’t have permission to use it."
Lucius sipped his brandy thoughtfully. "No, I don’t think so," he said finally.
Snape took a step back in surprise. "What?"
"He’s not going to St. Mungo’s," Lucius declared.
"You’ll let him die for the sake of protecting your reputation?" Snape ranted.
"He doesn’t have to die, Severus," Lucius informed him. "You have the power to save him."
"Me?"
"Surely you haven’t forgotten all the Master taught you," Lucius murmured. "You were the only one he trusted to brew his potions for him, the potions he needed to help him escape death."
"Those potions didn’t work," Snape insisted. "The Dark Lord is gone despite all his best efforts."
"Don’t lie to me, Severus. You will suffer the consequences," Lucius threatened. "I know the Dark Lord was there at that school of yours just a year ago. Draco told me all the stories about how he possessed that idiot Quirrell and confronted Potter."
"He wasn’t even a shell of his former self, though," Snape informed him. "Is that how you want Draco to live on?"
"You will find a potion that works properly," Lucius declared. "You’ll keep trying until you do. Although I suspect you won’t have to experiment too much. I imagine you keep souvenirs of the old days, just as the rest of us do."
"There is no way to know if those potions really work," warned Snape. "The Dark Lord was the only one who ever tried them. It could have been some other kind of magic that saved him. And the potions could be dangerous to someone who hasn’t undergone the same magical transformations he did before he started taking them."
"You’ve never tried them yourself, Severus? Never dreamed of immortality?" Lucius purred. "Although I can’t imagine why you’d want to live a life like yours forever." He sighed dramatically. "If only you’d turned those potions over to me when I first asked about them," he said with a shake of his head. "I could have had them tested already, and we’d know for certain whether one of them could help Draco. Now we’ll just have to wait and see."
"You’re willing to risk Draco’s life like that?"
"I’ve put 13 years of hard work into that boy, I wouldn’t toss that away lightly," Lucius growled. "But I’m still young, I can have another son. And his pitiful attempts to rebel against me are tiresome. I have every confidence in you, though, Severus. You may have been too weak to serve the Master well, but I know you won’t fail my son the same way. It’s the reason I allowed Narcissa to make you the boy’s godfather. I knew that no matter where your loyalties lay, your first priority would always be Draco."
"He should be yours, too."
"You shouldn’t be wasting time criticizing my parenting skills when there is a dying boy you need to save," Lucius murmured. "Now run along."
Snape scowled but stepped back into the fireplace.
"I wouldn’t go out that way if I were you," Lucius called after him.
Snape’s scowled deepened, but he stepped out of the fireplace and stalked toward the door of the study. He reached for the door, but pulled his hand back suddenly, reaching into his robes for his wand instead.
Lucius chuckled softly as Snape muttered something, causing the door to turn a bright green. "See, you do remember the old days," Lucius taunted.
Snape ignored him and jerked the door open after it returned to its normal color. He stalked off down the corridor as the door shut itself behind him.
Lucius gulped down the rest of his drink, stood up slowly and crossed to the fireplace. He took a handful of powder from one of a series of gold sconces that lined the side of the fireplace and tossed it carelessly into the smoldering fire. A burst of flame roared up as Lucius knelt down on the thickly-padded, serpent-embossed rug in front of the fireplace.
"Parkinson Place," he barked at the fire. It turned a bright purple for a brief moment and then returned to its normal color. Lucius stuck his head into the fireplace but saw nothing but wall in front of him.
"Damn you, Patrick," he muttered. "Don't you know you can't avoid me?"
Lucius stood up and returned to his desk, snatching up his snake cane. He scowled as he noticed blood smudged on it, wiping it off on his robes. Pulling his wand out of the top of the cane, he tossed the cane aside and returned to the fireplace. Again summoning the fire at the Parkinson Place, he stuck his head in the fireplace, thrust his arm with the wand through and bellowed, "Reducto Protega!"
Lucius leaned back from the fire as the echo of an explosion sounded from the fireplace. His lip curled into a sneer of pleasure. Leaning back into the fireplace again, this time he could see a bedroom on the other side, despite the dust lingering in the air. Debris was scattered about the floor in front of the fireplace.
A woman came running over to the fireplace, her face with fury. "Who are you to…"
Lucius cut her off. "Honestly, Prudence, did you really think you could keep me out?" he murmured.
The woman quickly smoothed her hair down and licked her lips. "It was Patrick, not me, Lucius. You know I’m always happy to have you in my bedroom," she purred.
Lucius cast an appraising glance at her peignoir. "You do look good in that outfit, Pru. Almost good enough to shag again." He smiled maliciously as she knelt before the fireplace and leaned toward him, offering an even better view of the assets she had to offer. "Almost but not quite."
The woman huffed angrily and sat back on her heels. "You’re a vile bastard."
"Yes I am," Lucius agreed pleasantly. "Get your husband for me."
Mrs. Parkinson stormed off. A moment later a small man with thinning blond hair scurried over to the fire nervously.
"Lucius, I’m sorry, the wards weren’t…"
"Don’t bother lying to me, Patrick," Lucius barked. "I know you were attempting to keep me out, but your magic was pathetic, as usual. Fortunately for you, we don’t have time for you to pay for your folly. You need to get to Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts? Is Pansy…"
"That silly daughter of yours is fine," snapped Lucius. "I need you to check on Draco. Severus claims he’s been hurt too badly for that idiot Pomfrey to fix him up."
"How was he hurt?" Patrick wondered.
"If I wanted questions, I would have allowed the boy to be sent to St. Mungo’s," Lucius growled.
"That would be the best place for him if he truly is hurt that badly."
"I’m confident you can heal him just as well at Hogwarts as you would at St. Mungo’s," Lucius murmured. "Your life will depend on it, after all."
Patrick blanched. "Lucius…"
"Save my son or there will be no saving you," Lucius warned, his voice deadly menacing. Then he jerked his head out of the fire, leaving a shaken Patrick staring into the flames there.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Karen for being the world’s best beta. Thanks, too, to ElvenPrincess for being the first to review this story (and for giving it a thumbs up, which encouraged me to keep posting it!)
Friends in Low Places
By Nola Ryan
Feasts and Beasts
Ginny stepped out of the tub in the hospital wing as her mother held out a thick towel to her. "Feel better?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
Ginny didn’t answer as she ignored the towel and stood watching the filthy water swirl down the drain. "I won’t wash away as easily as that dirt," Tom taunted her. Ginny shook her head to try to shake off his voice.
"Wait a minute, honey, I think we missed a spot," Mrs. Weasley said, noticing a mark on Ginny’s lower back as she wrapped the young girl in the towel. Ginny looked over her shoulder, trying to see her back, as Molly picked up a washcloth. Molly wiped at the mark, which shrank away at her touch, but returned when she pulled her hand away.
"Did you get it?" asked Ginny.
Mrs. Weasley didn’t answer as she bent closer to look at the mark, which again dissolved into Ginny’s skin.
"It won’t come off, Ginny," Tom murmured. "I marked you. You’re mine forever."
"Mum?" Ginny said, a twinge of panic in her voice, as Tom’s harsh laughter echoed in her head.
"It’s fine, dear, just a bit of mud," Mrs. Weasley said, no longer seeing the mark. She put her arms around Ginny and hugged her tightly.
"Why is she always touching us? Make her go away," Tom commanded.
Ginny pulled away from her mother. "Stop it, I’m too big for hugs."
"You will never be too big for hugs." Mrs. Weasley kissed the top of Ginny’s head as she hugged her again. "Are you ready to get back to bed?"
"Can we go home?" Ginny said suddenly, pulling away again.
"Home? To the Burrow?" Ginny nodded. "That’s a long trip, dear. By the time we got home, it would be time for you to come back to take your exams."
"I don’t want to come back," declared Ginny. "I don’t ever want to come back here again."
"That won’t help you escape me, my beautiful Ginevra," murmured Tom. "I’ll follow you wherever you go."
"Honey, you don’t mean that," Mrs. Weasley insisted as she pulled a nightshirt over Ginny’s head. "You’ll see, things will look better in the morning after you’ve had a good night’s sleep."
"I can’t see anything with this bloody thing over my face," Ginny muttered as she struggled to get her head and arms through the holes of the top.
"Watch your mouth, young lady," Mrs. Weasley scolded.
"Leave me alone!" Ginny shot back, finally getting the nightshirt on and stalking away from her mother back toward her bed.
A shocked Molly just stood looking after her.
Madame Pomfrey started toward Ginny but was distracted by Snape entering, floating the unconscious Malfoy in front of him.
"What happened?" Madame Pomfrey demanded.
Snape glanced over at the Weasleys, most of who were still gathered by Ginny’s bed, but they were engrossed in conversation and didn’t seem to notice his entrance.
Ginny, though, stopped short when she saw the stretcher. "Move along, Miss Weasley," Snape snapped, but Ginny didn’t move.
"Goodness, what happened?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, bustling over to them. She instinctively brushed a stray lock of hair off Draco’s face.
"If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the boy into a bed," Snape told Mrs. Weasley curtly.
"Of course." Mrs. Weasley put her hands on Ginny’s shoulders. "Come along, Ginny, let’s get out of the way."
"I didn’t do that," Ginny murmured as her mother pulled her away from Snape and Malfoy.
"Of course you didn’t, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied, planting a distracted kiss on her daughter’s head.
"You should have, he’s an insufferable git, just like his grandfather," Tom muttered.
"I should have, though, he’s an insufferable git," Ginny repeated with a giggle. Her grin widened as she earned another horrified glance from her mother. "Well, he is, Mum."
"Ginevra…"
Ginny tuned out whatever scolding her mother was giving her, instead casting another glance at Malfoy as Madam Pomfrey leaned over him. "Professor Snape, what’s happened to the boy?" she heard the matron ask again.
Ginny cocked her head to listen. "I’m not sure," Snape lied smoothly. "He was found at the bottom of the dungeon stairs."
Suddenly Ginny felt a pull on her arm. "Come along, dear, let’s get you back into bed," Mrs. Weasley said, guiding Ginny toward her cot.
"A fall like that shouldn’t have knocked him unconscious," was the last thing Ginny heard Madame Pomfrey say to Snape. The matron looked Draco over. "Unless he hit his head on the stairs…" She examined his head, finding no bruising or bleeding. "That doesn’t appear to be the case."
"He said his back was hurting," Snape informed her.
"He was conscious then?"
"Yes, until he insisted on trying to stand so he could walk up here himself," Snape said with a shake of his head.
"Let’s put him in bed over here so I can examine him further," Madame Pomfrey instructed, pointing to the bed next to Ginny’s.
"I think he’d rather no other students saw him like this," Snape protested, pointing his head in the direction of the twins.
"I’ll put up a curtain. Get him into bed," Pomfrey ordered.
Snape reluctantly did so, blocking the view of the stretcher with his robes when Fred and George craned their necks curiously to see who was on it.
The twins shrugged and turned their attention back to Ginny as she approached. Fred scrambled to pull the soiled sheets off the bed, as George haphazardly threw on in their place the clean ones Madame Pomfrey had left.
Ginny gave them half-hearted smile as she looked around. "Where’s Ron?"
"He and Harry went to get cleaned up, too," Mr. Weasley explained.
"Harry was here?" Ginny squeaked.
"He came to check on you," Fred told her. "We couldn’t stand the stench, though – he and Ron smelled even worse than us after that 8-hour Quidditch match we had against Slytherin second year. So we chased them out."
"I bet they’ll be back," George predicted. "Harry was really worried about you, Gin."
"Such a sweet boy," Mrs. Weasley cooed.
As if on cue, Ron came loping into the hospital wing, his hair still wet and his robes thrown on haphazardly over a pair of jeans and a Chudley Canons tee shirt. A freshly-scrubbed Harry followed a few paces behind him.
Harry glanced curiously at Snape and Madame Pomfrey hovering over someone in the bed next to Ginny’s. Snape scowled and pulled a curtain around the bed, but not before Harry caught a glimpse of bleach-white hair on the pillow. "Was that Malfoy?" Harry whispered to Ron.
Ron shrugged. "If it is, I hope he’s really hurt."
"His father looked ready to kill after I set Dobby free," Harry worried. "What if he…"
"Better he take it out on his son than on you," Ron muttered. Harry remained sober. "C’mon, Harry, it’s Malfoy we’re talking about. What do you care if he’s hurt?"
"I’m tired of other people suffering because someone is angry at me," Harry declared with a sigh of frustration.
"But it’s Malfoy," Ron proclaimed.
"It’s not only him," Harry reminded Ron. "Ginny wouldn’t be in here either, if it wasn’t for me."
"Yeah, she’d be dead!" Ron exclaimed.
"You should be dead," Tom murmured to Ginny. "You’re never going to do anything in life, but you could have been great in death."
Ginny whimpered and curled into a ball under the covers. Her family didn’t notice, having been distracted by Ron’s outburst, but Ron did and hurried over to the bed.
"What’s wrong, Gin?" he murmured.
Ginny’s only answer was to grab his hand and cling to it tightly. Ron leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You’re safe here," he whispered.
"Am I?"
"Are you okay, Ginny?" asked Harry anxiously, looking over Ron’s shoulder.
Ginny rolled away from him, unable to meet Harry’s worried gaze. "I’m tired."
"You rest then," Mrs. Weasley told her, holding a small bottle of blue potion to Ginny’s lips. After Ginny drank it down, her mother smoothed out the blankets covering her and tenderly stroked Ginny’s hair. Ginny closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
"Boys, why don’t we get going?" Mr. Weasley suggested.
Ginny’s eyes flew open. "No, stay."
"All of us?" her father asked.
Ginny nodded. "So it’ll be like home."
"If you want it to be like home, we need Mom to cook something," George suggested.
"Yeah, I’m so hungry I could eat a hippogriff," Fred proclaimed.
"Then it’s a good thing we’re going to have a feast," declared a voice behind them.
Fred and George turned to see Dumbledore smiling at them.
"A feast?" George repeated.
"I thought a celebration was in order," Dumbledore explained. "Your sister has been safely returned to all of you, and the school is no longer in danger from internal or external forces."
"What about Hagrid?" wondered Ron.
"He’s to be released immediately, by order of the Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore informed them. "And I’m sure he’s going to be quite glad to see you two," he added, smiling at the beaming Harry and Ron.
"Excuse me, Headmaster," interrupted Madame Pomfrey.
"Yes, Poppy?"
"May I speak with you alone, sir?" she requested.
Dumbledore’s brow furrowed worriedly. "Of course. Excuse me," he said to Harry and the Weasleys as he stepped around the curtains surrounding Ginny’s bed. "Yes?"
"I have a student who needs to go to St. Mungo’s," she told him. "He’s hurt quite badly, and I’m afraid I do not have the means to care for him properly."
"Who’s hurt?" asked Dumbledore worriedly. "What happened?"
He followed Madame Pomfrey around the curtains to Draco’s bed, where Draco lay deathly still, his pale face now almost translucent. "What happened?" Dumbledore questioned again.
"I was told he fell, sir," the matron answered. "Professor Snape found him at the bottom of the dungeon stairs."
"Where is Professor Snape now?" wondered Dumbledore.
"I believe he went to speak to his students about the boy’s injuries."
"He doesn’t believe Mr. Malfoy fell?" Dumbledore queried, a frown crossing his face.
"His injuries are not consistent with that," Madame Pomfrey revealed.
"Just how badly is he hurt?"
"More seriously than I’m equipped to treat here," the matron explained. "He’s bleeding internally. I’ve given him a potion to compensate for the blood he’s lost, but only a healer can properly repair the damage."
"Was it a spell that did this?" wondered Dumbledore.
"No, sir, it looks like…" She hesitated, frowning. "Someone beat him with something, sir," she burst out suddenly. "And he was kicked, too. You can see the prints from the person’s boot on the poor child’s back." She wrung her hand anxiously. "Could this have been the same person who carried the Weasley girl off?"
"No, that’s not possible," Dumbledore assured her. "Have the boy’s parents been notified? His father may still be nearby; he was in to see me not long ago."
Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "Professor Snape instructed me not to contact them," she revealed. "He refused to say why, but assured me that it was in the boy’s best interest."
Dumbledore’s brow furrowed again. "I’ll have to speak to Severus about that," he said sharply. "St. Mungo’s can’t treat the boy without permission. There’s a spell on him preventing it."
"Can you break it, sir?" Madame Pomfrey wondered. "We should not delay sending him. I fear he soon won’t be up to the trip."
"I’ll have Severus speak to his father."
Dumbledore strode over to the infirmary fireplace. He pulled a small pouch out of his robe pocket, took a pinch of powder out and tossed it into the fireplace. "Slytherin common room," he called.
His face appeared in the common room fire. "Severus," he called, causing several of the Slytherins gathered around the room to jump in surprise.
Snape, who was standing in the middle of the group of students, glanced over at the fireplace, barely disguising his scowl. "Yes, sir?"
"I need you back upstairs immediately," Dumbledore told him.
"Draco," whimpered Pansy, dissolving in a fresh wave of tears.
"Enough, Miss Parkinson," growled Snape. "Professor, I’m right in the middle of…"
"This can’t wait," Dumbledore interrupted sternly.
"I’ll be right there," said Snape with a sigh.
"As for the rest of you," Dumbledore called to the Slytherins, "there is a feast about to begin in the Great Hall, to celebrate the end of the troubles that have been plaguing our beloved school. Don’t even bother changing into your robes, just go as you are. Prefects, if you could lead the other students up there."
The prefects glanced uncertainly at Snape, who nodded. "Slytherins, come on," called a tall blond-haired boy, leading students toward the stairs that led out of the common room.
Pansy hung back from the rest of the crowed. "Professor…"
"Go with your housemates, Miss Parkinson," ordered Snape. "I will let you know if there is any information of which you need to be made aware."
Pansy opened her mouth to protest, but Snape had already stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.
Snape stepped out of the fireplace of the infirmary a moment later, brushing the soot off his robes. Dumbledore was waiting for him. "Severus, why won’t you let Madame Pomfrey contact Lucius Malfoy? We need his permission to take Draco to St. Mungo’s."
"He’s hurt that badly?" Snape asked, stalking over to Draco’s bedside. Draco still lay pale and unmoving. A sheet was pulled up to his chin, but Snape could see a bit of bare shoulder, which was purpled with bruises.
"He could die if we don’t get permission for St. Mungo’s to treat him," Dumbledore explained.
"I’ll give permission," stated Snape. "Surely as his godfather…"
Dumbledore shook his head. "The restrictions his father put on him clearly state he can’t receive any medicinal magic without parental permission. So please tell me why I shouldn’t summon Lucius back here immediately."
"I didn’t think that wise, seeing as Lucius was the one who did this," Snape stated matter-of-factly.
Madame Pomfrey gasped.
"Poppy, shouldn’t you check on Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked sharply.
"Her family is watching over her, and I’ve given her a potion for sleeping," Madame Pomfrey told him. "I would prefer not to leave the boy while his condition is so unstable."
Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "Very well, then. Severus, why don’t we speak over here?" he suggested, walking toward Madame Pomfrey’s small office. Snape followed him silently.
"Please explain," Dumbledore commanded once they were out of the earshot of the others.
"From what I’ve gathered, Lucius stormed into the common room looking for Draco, who was up in his room studying," Snape explained. "Lucius went up there, stayed for about 15 minutes, and then stormed out, appearing even angrier than he’d been when he arrived. Draco came down to the common room not long after and left, supposedly to come see me in my office. Pansy Parkinson was worried something was wrong, so she went after Draco and found him lying at the foot of the dungeon stairs."
"I was hoping that after Lucius left my office he wouldn’t encounter anyone on his way out of the castle," Dumbledore admitted somberly.
"I should have been told he was here," complained Snape. "I could have made sure Draco was protected."
"And then Lucius would have taken his anger out on you," Dumbledore reminded him.
"It wouldn’t be the first time," muttered Snape. "And I’m better prepared to fight him than Draco is."
"You can still protect Draco," Dumbledore told him. "Talk to Lucius, get permission for the boy to be properly treated."
"I’ll try."
"If he won’t give it, perhaps Narcissa…"
"She can’t go against Lucius," Snape interrupted.
"Not even to save her son’s life?" Snape shook his head. Dumbledore frowned. "Then you must make Lucius see reason. Surely he doesn’t want the boy to die."
"It might be kinder to let him go," murmured Snape.
"I don’t imagine Draco has had an easy time of it," Dumbledore said softly. "But surely a difficult life is better than no life at all."
"I’m not the one to ask," growled Snape as he stormed out of the hospital wing.
*************
A disheveled Lucius sat behind the desk in his study, a nearly-empty decanter in front of him matching the nearly-empty glass in his hand. Snape appeared suddenly in the fireplace across from his desk, but Lucius didn’t startle.
"I was wondering when you’d get here," he murmured to Snape.
"It would have been sooner if you’d taken the wards down," Snape grumbled, stepping out of the fireplace and brushing off his robes.
"It used to take you no time to get through those kind of obstacles, Severus," Lucius recalled with a cruel smile. "Working for Dumbledore is making you soft. That’s why I want Draco away from that school. I’d hate for him to turn out like you."
"That’s no reason to kill the boy," snapped Snape.
"He’s dead then?" questioned Lucius, his voice devoid of any emotion, although Snape noticed the decanter shook slightly in his hand as he poured himself the rest of the brandy.
"Not yet."
Lucius’ face registered something – Snape could have almost sworn it was relief – but it was quickly replaced by a stony expression. "He’s stronger than I thought," Lucius muttered, his words slurring slightly. "He should be dead."
"He will be if you don’t give us permission to take him to St. Mungo’s," Snape revealed. "They should be able to heal him, but as you know, their magic won’t work if they don’t have permission to use it."
Lucius sipped his brandy thoughtfully. "No, I don’t think so," he said finally.
Snape took a step back in surprise. "What?"
"He’s not going to St. Mungo’s," Lucius declared.
"You’ll let him die for the sake of protecting your reputation?" Snape ranted.
"He doesn’t have to die, Severus," Lucius informed him. "You have the power to save him."
"Me?"
"Surely you haven’t forgotten all the Master taught you," Lucius murmured. "You were the only one he trusted to brew his potions for him, the potions he needed to help him escape death."
"Those potions didn’t work," Snape insisted. "The Dark Lord is gone despite all his best efforts."
"Don’t lie to me, Severus. You will suffer the consequences," Lucius threatened. "I know the Dark Lord was there at that school of yours just a year ago. Draco told me all the stories about how he possessed that idiot Quirrell and confronted Potter."
"He wasn’t even a shell of his former self, though," Snape informed him. "Is that how you want Draco to live on?"
"You will find a potion that works properly," Lucius declared. "You’ll keep trying until you do. Although I suspect you won’t have to experiment too much. I imagine you keep souvenirs of the old days, just as the rest of us do."
"There is no way to know if those potions really work," warned Snape. "The Dark Lord was the only one who ever tried them. It could have been some other kind of magic that saved him. And the potions could be dangerous to someone who hasn’t undergone the same magical transformations he did before he started taking them."
"You’ve never tried them yourself, Severus? Never dreamed of immortality?" Lucius purred. "Although I can’t imagine why you’d want to live a life like yours forever." He sighed dramatically. "If only you’d turned those potions over to me when I first asked about them," he said with a shake of his head. "I could have had them tested already, and we’d know for certain whether one of them could help Draco. Now we’ll just have to wait and see."
"You’re willing to risk Draco’s life like that?"
"I’ve put 13 years of hard work into that boy, I wouldn’t toss that away lightly," Lucius growled. "But I’m still young, I can have another son. And his pitiful attempts to rebel against me are tiresome. I have every confidence in you, though, Severus. You may have been too weak to serve the Master well, but I know you won’t fail my son the same way. It’s the reason I allowed Narcissa to make you the boy’s godfather. I knew that no matter where your loyalties lay, your first priority would always be Draco."
"He should be yours, too."
"You shouldn’t be wasting time criticizing my parenting skills when there is a dying boy you need to save," Lucius murmured. "Now run along."
Snape scowled but stepped back into the fireplace.
"I wouldn’t go out that way if I were you," Lucius called after him.
Snape’s scowled deepened, but he stepped out of the fireplace and stalked toward the door of the study. He reached for the door, but pulled his hand back suddenly, reaching into his robes for his wand instead.
Lucius chuckled softly as Snape muttered something, causing the door to turn a bright green. "See, you do remember the old days," Lucius taunted.
Snape ignored him and jerked the door open after it returned to its normal color. He stalked off down the corridor as the door shut itself behind him.
Lucius gulped down the rest of his drink, stood up slowly and crossed to the fireplace. He took a handful of powder from one of a series of gold sconces that lined the side of the fireplace and tossed it carelessly into the smoldering fire. A burst of flame roared up as Lucius knelt down on the thickly-padded, serpent-embossed rug in front of the fireplace.
"Parkinson Place," he barked at the fire. It turned a bright purple for a brief moment and then returned to its normal color. Lucius stuck his head into the fireplace but saw nothing but wall in front of him.
"Damn you, Patrick," he muttered. "Don't you know you can't avoid me?"
Lucius stood up and returned to his desk, snatching up his snake cane. He scowled as he noticed blood smudged on it, wiping it off on his robes. Pulling his wand out of the top of the cane, he tossed the cane aside and returned to the fireplace. Again summoning the fire at the Parkinson Place, he stuck his head in the fireplace, thrust his arm with the wand through and bellowed, "Reducto Protega!"
Lucius leaned back from the fire as the echo of an explosion sounded from the fireplace. His lip curled into a sneer of pleasure. Leaning back into the fireplace again, this time he could see a bedroom on the other side, despite the dust lingering in the air. Debris was scattered about the floor in front of the fireplace.
A woman came running over to the fireplace, her face with fury. "Who are you to…"
Lucius cut her off. "Honestly, Prudence, did you really think you could keep me out?" he murmured.
The woman quickly smoothed her hair down and licked her lips. "It was Patrick, not me, Lucius. You know I’m always happy to have you in my bedroom," she purred.
Lucius cast an appraising glance at her peignoir. "You do look good in that outfit, Pru. Almost good enough to shag again." He smiled maliciously as she knelt before the fireplace and leaned toward him, offering an even better view of the assets she had to offer. "Almost but not quite."
The woman huffed angrily and sat back on her heels. "You’re a vile bastard."
"Yes I am," Lucius agreed pleasantly. "Get your husband for me."
Mrs. Parkinson stormed off. A moment later a small man with thinning blond hair scurried over to the fire nervously.
"Lucius, I’m sorry, the wards weren’t…"
"Don’t bother lying to me, Patrick," Lucius barked. "I know you were attempting to keep me out, but your magic was pathetic, as usual. Fortunately for you, we don’t have time for you to pay for your folly. You need to get to Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts? Is Pansy…"
"That silly daughter of yours is fine," snapped Lucius. "I need you to check on Draco. Severus claims he’s been hurt too badly for that idiot Pomfrey to fix him up."
"How was he hurt?" Patrick wondered.
"If I wanted questions, I would have allowed the boy to be sent to St. Mungo’s," Lucius growled.
"That would be the best place for him if he truly is hurt that badly."
"I’m confident you can heal him just as well at Hogwarts as you would at St. Mungo’s," Lucius murmured. "Your life will depend on it, after all."
Patrick blanched. "Lucius…"
"Save my son or there will be no saving you," Lucius warned, his voice deadly menacing. Then he jerked his head out of the fire, leaving a shaken Patrick staring into the flames there.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Karen for being the world’s best beta. Thanks, too, to ElvenPrincess for being the first to review this story (and for giving it a thumbs up, which encouraged me to keep posting it!)
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