Cheryl Dyson

Bad Medicine

Chapter One

            Draco was bored. After listening to the dimwitted bickering of Crabbe and Goyle all morning, he considered turning them into something spineless and slimy in order to silence them. They were great for backup in a confrontation, but as conversationalists they left much to be desired. Rather than hex them, he yelled at them to bugger off for the afternoon and stalked off to be alone. Hogwarts was rife with places for solitary reflection, but today most of the prime spots were taken, largely due to the dreadful pouring rain outside.

            The dungeon was even darker and gloomier than usual and Draco was already in a bad mood, so he took to the ever-changing stairs and headed for higher climes. A half hour of aimless wandering led him to a long, deserted corridor lined with huge gothic windows. He peered out of one and discovered a marvelous view of the lake, or it would have been if he could have seen more than a quarter of it due to the misty rain. Water poured down the glass in rivulets. He rested his forehead against the glass, feeling more than bored. He couldn’t quite put a name to what he was feeling, but it wasn’t good.

            He pushed himself away from the window and noted several dark alcoves arranged along the opposite wall, interspersed with dark wooden doors that led who-knew-where? The alcoves had potential, as they were stuffed with large stone statues of various creatures. Directly across from him reared a huge lion, nearly triple life size. Draco sneered. No Gryffindor lions for him today, thank you very much. He walked to the next alcove. A hippogriff. Screw that. Stupid beasts. The third statue was more promising. A manticore. Its human face growled from a lion-like mane and the stinger poised over its head looked ready to strike. Draco could relate. He gripped a leonine paw and hoisted himself up into the alcove. He slipped behind the creature and searched briefly for concealed doors, which were quite often hidden in alcoves around Hogwarts. If one existed here, it was too well concealed for a casual search and a quick Alohomora.

            The scorpion-like tail was perfectly curled to provide a relaxing perch. Draco sat down and leaned his head and shoulders back against the curve of the tail. He twirled his wand and wondered if he should practice his transfiguration spells for class tomorrow, but the required spells were ridiculously easy. His mother had been teaching him transfiguration since he was five.

            He tapped his wand idly against a thigh and looked beyond the statue’s head to the long windows. He wished the bloody depressing rain would stop. He’d much rather be outside on his broom practicing Quidditch than moping here in an abandoned hallway.

            Quick footsteps approached. Perhaps not so abandoned. Draco sat up and flattened himself against the manticore’s back. He peered out after making sure he was fully hidden in the shadows of the alcove.

            The footsteps belonged to Hermione Granger. Draco sneered. Granger! What did she want up here? A square wooden box locomotored behind her, floating easily in her wake. He wondered what she was up to. Probably sneaking around on some errand or another for Potter or Weasley. He was actually surprised to see her alone. Normally the three of them clung together for protection like baby lemurs. The only time Granger was ever alone was when she was in the library with her face buried in a book. Likely her little trunk was full of books and she was looking for a private place to read.

            She strode purposefully past Draco’s hiding place without pausing and continued to a door two alcoves beyond his. She entered with her box and shut the door firmly. Draco waited to see if Potter and the Weasel would show up, but finally climbed out of his alcove. He briefly regretted not hexing her when she walked by. She could have done with the tail of a jackass or ears of a fruit bat. He grinned and then grimaced; realizing if he’d hexed her she likely would have turned him into a sea slug or something worse. The little mudblood was good with a wand, more’s the pity.

            He walked quietly to the door through which she’d disappeared. He didn’t sneak, because Malfoys did not sneak, but he did walk quietly enough that his footsteps would not be heard.   He cast a whispered Silencio on the door, though he hadn’t heard it make any noise when Granger had opened it. He flipped the latch and peered inside.

            He saw a huge, mostly dark room with a ceiling that seemed miles overhead. A single glass window in the ceiling admitted sparse light in a square pattern on the center of the empty floor. The room looked devoid of both furnishings and occupants.

            He slipped inside and let the door shut silently behind him. He wondered if another door exited the room. Likely, since Granger had disappeared. He was about to cross the room when a strange cacophony made him clap his hands to his ears.

            What in hell was that strange racket? He nearly asked the question aloud and was glad he did not when Hermione stepped into the square of light. He shrank back instinctively, but it was far too dark near the door for her to notice him.

            After that brief moment of panic, he froze and frankly gaped at her, as staggered as if she had stunned him with her wand.

 

            Harry watched Draco for a moment, astounded at the change in the Slytherin. Less than a month ago, Harry would have given anything to watch Malfoy suffer. Now it was agony. He held Ginny tightly; knowing he should ask her about the Death Eaters, but nothing seemed to matter except Hermione’s shallow breathing.

            A small rattle behind him made him turn. Dobby’s cage was twisted and bent, but not broken. Harry released Ginny and walked over to release the lock. Dobby climbed out and gratefully looked at Harry sadly.

            “Dobby found the Dark Lord, Harry Potter,” the house-elf said. Harry tried to smile. Dobby went on, “Kreacher is free.”

            Harry nodded. “Because Regulus Black is the true master of Grimmauld Place and has been since Sirius died.”

            “Yes, Harry Potter.”

            Harry’s eyes went to Regulus, who still lay unmoving where Voldemort’s spell had broken him. Harry walked over and knelt beside him. For a moment, he thought Regulus was dead, but he blue eyes—so like Sirius’s—opened and glanced at him. Blood bubbled from his lips with every breath.

            “We need to get you some help,” Harry said in alarm.

            “No, Potter,” Regulus rasped. He grimaced. “So. You managed to win, after all.”

            “Thanks to you,” Harry admitted, although he wasn’t certain he meant it. His memories of Snape were so steeped in hatred, it was hard to reconcile years of anger with the man who now lay before him.

            Regulus closed his eyes.

            “You were so awful to me,” Harry whispered.

            “I hate you, Potter,” Regulus admitted with a slight smile. “I hated your father, I hated Remus Lupin, and I hated my brother… until he was gone. I wish…” He coughed and wiped his lips with a pale wrist, leaving a smear of red across his handsome face. “We had fun together as children. I wish we could have held onto that as we grew. I missed him when he chose James Potter over me.”

            Harry felt a yawning chasm of pain calling him, as it always did when he thought of Sirius. It was mingled with the ever-present rage.

            “You let him rot in Azkaban,” Harry hissed.

            “Do not try to lay penance on me, Potter,” Regulus snapped, Snapelike. “I know what I’ve done.”

            Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You killed Snape after you were both out of Hogwarts. Yet when I saw the memory in the Pensieve during Occlumency lessons—you… Snape? were in school.”

            Regulus barked a wet laugh.

            “That was a true memory of dear Severus,” he admitted. “I coaxed it out of him one night when we were both smashed. I kept several of Snape’s old memories to help in my charade. Luckily, the horrid little git was never popular and no one knew him well. My identity was never questioned.”

            A coughing spasm wracked his body and Harry stood quickly.

            “I’ll get you some help.”

            “Heal me so I can go to Azkaban for killing Dumbledore?” Regulus asked and grinned horribly.

            “No… I’m sure—“

            A shout distracted Harry—Fawkes had returned.

 

            The phoenix landed on Draco’s shoulder and dropped the vial into his hand. It was a tiny, opaque brown bottle with a green label. The writing had long since faded into illegibility.

            Hermione had slipped into delirium. She kept murmuring Draco’s name between wrenching spasms of pain. He carefully uncorked the bottle and slid a glance at Regulus Black. Harry crouched over the former Death Eater.

            Draco paused with the vial poised over Hermione’s lips. Regulus despised her kind—the potion could easily be another poison to hasten her demise. Hermione whimpered and Draco realized it would be a mercy to kill her quickly rather than let her suffer the torment she now endured.

            He tipped the potion into her mouth.


             After a long moment, Hermione’s breathing eased. Draco did not know whether or not it was a good sign. He held Hermione tightly, as though he could somehow transfer his life force to her.

            His eyes met Weasley’s. Ron knelt nearby and his blue eyes mirrored Draco’s. For the first time, he felt kinship with the Weasel and smiled ruefully.

            “She’ll be fine,” Ron murmured fervently.

            Draco glanced over at the passageway as several people entered—Neville, Luna, Susan Bones, Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Jack Williamson. Harry joined them as they approached.

            “Regulus Black is dead,” Harry said. Draco felt a twinge of… what? Remorse? Regulus, as Snape, had taken an active role in Draco’s life, especially recently.

            “Regulus Black has been dead for years,” Tonks said, puzzled.

            “Not quite as dead as everyone assumed,” Draco commented. He noticed Lupin was bleeding from several claw like gashes, especially one that had carved a furrow across his scalp and over one temple, narrowly missing his eye. Blood trickled down his face and dripped onto his robes. Tonks repeatedly tried to dab at it with a cloth, but Remus waved her back.

            “Voldemort?” Lupin asked.

            “The Chosen One triumphed over evil,” Draco said dramatically and grinned at Potter’s glare. He felt Hermione’s hand clench on his and looked down to see her eyes open. She smiled softly.

            “How do you feel?” he asked.

            “A bit better. I’m no longer praying to die.”

            “Thank goodness, because I’m praying for you to live and it would be damned counter-productive.” His words were light, but still he feared the potion might not be an antidote. It could yet be a painkiller or sedative.

            “What happened to the Death Eaters?” Harry asked.

            “Susan Bones killed most of them,” Ginny said. Draco decided to hate Susan a bit less next time he saw her.

            “Greyback nearly got me,” Luna said. “But Professor McGonagall saved me before…”

            “Before Greyback killed her,” Tonks said quietly. Harry sucked in a harsh breath, but Draco felt little at the news. McGonagall had been a minimal presence in his life. Hermione’s eyes filled with tears and Draco decided it would be a good idea to comfort her. He kissed her and was pleased to note her lips were no longer ice cold. He was mildly entertained by the gasp of surprise his action brought from Lupin.

            Hermione’s hand reached up and touched his hair. Draco enjoyed the kiss a bit too much and had to force himself to break it.

            “I can’t breathe again,” Hermione murmured.

            Draco looked at her in alarm, but she giggled.

            “It’s your fault this time.”

            “Voldemort said he had the Ministry,” Harry said. “Is there any word?”

            Lupin snorted and batted away Tonks as she held the cloth up to his head.

            “Voldemort was a bit premature, there. If he had waited a bit longer, until the full moon—it would have been awful. As it was, they were poorly organized; a rabble, really. They were led by Avery and consisted of a group of Greyback’s pet werewolves. They completely broke ranks and ran amok throughout the Ministry. That Death Eater with a face like a hatchet—“

            “Lars,” Draco supplied.

            “—arrived later and tried to get them under control, but it was too late. A handful of Aurors and some of the more competent Ministry officials made mincemeat of them.”

            “And then Fred and George appeared and it was quickly over,” Jack said. “Those two are bloody brilliant.”

            “Although they are now in some trouble with Rufus Scrimgeour…” Lupin added.

            Jack chuckled. “You should see what they did to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

            Lupin sighed and ducked Tonks again.

            “If you don’t hold still and let me tend to that, I’m going to bloody well hex you unconscious and then do it!” she yelled. For a moment, Draco thought the werewolf might actually defy his cousin, but then Tonks smiled and wheedled, “Please.” Lupin caved like a cheap cauldron hit by a Bludger.

            “What about Percy?” Ron asked suddenly. Luna had sidled over and attached herself to Weasley’s arm, as she usually did to Draco. Ron didn’t seem to mind.

            “He’s fine. The exchange went as planned. He’s at St. Mungo’s with your parents. A bit bruised and shaken, but he should be all right.”

            “I think I can stand,” Hermione said. Draco helped her to her feet, wincing when the phoenix shifted and dug its claws into his shoulder. He wondered how to make the bird depart, but forgot the thought as Hermione swayed against him. Draco caught her and his arms went around her waist. Her hands clutched his shoulders. He stared into her wide brown eyes for a moment before he noticed she was grinning wickedly.

            “I did that on purpose,” she admitted.

            “You are turning into a shameless hussy, Granger!” he whispered into her ear.

            “I nearly died,” she said. “I realized there are some things I want to do before that happens. Most of them involve you… without clothing.”

            Draco went rigid and sucked in a shocked breath.

            “Should we leave?” Potter asked dryly, echoing Draco’s thoughts. When Hermione looked at Harry, he grinned and enveloped her in a hug—which included Draco, since he had not released her. Malfoy suffered Potter’s arm around his shoulders. For a moment.

            “Potter can’t keep his hands off of me, Granger. You might want to have a word with him.”

            “If you let go of her, I won’t need to touch you at all,” Potter commented.

            “I don’t want to deprive you of your meager pleasures.”

            Harry gave him a pained look. “Malfoy—“

            “Oh all right,” Draco said and freed Hermione. Harry immediately pulled her into a joyful embrace, joined quickly by Weasley. Strangely, Draco felt no envy seeing the trio thus enfolded. He no longer felt like an outsider.