Empty Spaces

Chapter 53

That wasn't fifteen minutes.

Draco's experience with hospitals was pitifully low, but he'd healed enough wounds to know that when things don't go according to plan, it's usually not a good sign.

"Oh! Hey– sorry, this is going to take longer than I thought," Sachi apologized, closing the door behind her. "I don't know exactly what curse Harry's shoulder took, but its residual effects are slowing the healing process. He's going to be fine, though, I'm just getting Medlar for consultation."

"He likes to use infinito curses," Draco said, almost to the floor rather than to Sachi. Every Malfoy ancestor was probably rolling around in their graves getting ready to hex him from the netherworld. "Lucius. He has a whole bunch that he's 'improved' upon... Secare or incisus counter-curses usually work pretty well against them, though..."

"Got it, thanks, that helps a lot..." Sachi nodded appreciatively, "Sorry, you'll have to wait outside until we're done, hospital policies and all that..."

"Sure..." Draco said halfheartedly. He would have given anything to be allowed to stay at Harry's side, but he was also just as desperate to make sure Harry recovered... Draco's healing skills were good, but he'd seen enough to know that Sachi and Medlar were better. It was a humbling realization.

A commotion down the hall had him looking up in surprise as Hermione rushed over, a throng of people clamoring at her side with Weasley marching up to the front of the group.

"The fuck Malfoy, what the hell did you DO?"

Draco fought back the instinctive urge to hex Weasley right then and there. For all the shit people talked about the Malfoy family and their prejudiced views, nobody seemed to have any problems pointing fingers his way when things went wrong.

"Hey– Ron– stop it! Either control yourself or go someplace else!" Hermione stepped between them. "Draco, how's Harry doing? Why are you out here? I thought you'd be in with him..."

"It was all over the Prophet," Ginny came over, holding up the paper, "Harry was found last night at the Ministry headquarters in London, bleeding out... I can't believe they included a picture, this is awful..."

Draco scanned the paper in disbelief. The whole article mostly seemed like an excuse to run a sensation story on the front page– aside from Harry showing up gravely injured in the Ministry Atrium, there was nothing substantial about what really happened that night, just loads of reminiscent crap about Harry and his life as a tragic war hero.

"EXCUSE ME, what is this!?" Healer Medlar pushed her way to the front of the group. "I'm sorry, this is a hospital corridor, we can't have you clogging up the hallways. Please take this party upstairs to the visitors' lounge. Come on now, off you go!"

"It'll be okay," Sachi whispered to Draco as she passed, "Don't worry, Medler's got this."

Wishing himself anywhere but stuck with a group of Gryffindors in the hospital, unwashed and in yesterday's clothes, Draco begrudgingly followed Hermione into the lift. She gave him an encouraging look and took his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go again; a brief gesture, invisible to all around them, but its message was loud and clear. I'm glad you're here.

"Come on, there's a couple tables over there," Longbottom spoke up, taking the lead and ushering everyone to the back of the tearoom. Draco's feet felt like lead; he was miserable in every sense of the word and being stuck with Harry's friends without Harry was only rubbing salt in the wound.

"Here," Hermione placed a bag in Draco's lap as she slid into the seat beside him. "Sorry, I didn't want to go through your things, so I just grabbed whatever I found first..."