A/N: The spell/hex verbage is of my own pitiful making.

Finally, news from the outside world! It has been almost a month since they had last received a letter from Molly Weasley, so they were more than hungry for news when this new message arrived. The good was always mixed with the bad, but they devoured it all. Usually they were addressed to both Ron and Draco, but this latest was addressed only to Ron.

The redhead was showering, and Draco hesitated before opening it. While they shared everything, he still felt odd opening someone else's mail.

"Letter from your family," Draco called through the steam.

"So, read it," Ron told him.

"But it's just addressed to you."

"Read it," Ron repeated.

Breaking the seal, Draco skimmed the note first, color draining from his face even as he read.

"Well, are you going to read it or not?" Ron asked after a long pause.

"Not," Draco said curtly. "Hurry up in there."

Ron finished his shower, dressed quickly and went in search of Draco. He found the blond in the sitting room, letter still clutched in his hand.

"Something's happened," Ron said. It wasn't a question. He knew it would happen eventually and he'd dreaded this day. It was just a matter of who and when. But he could never have adequately prepared himself for it. He snatched the letter away and stood by the fireplace, staring at the parchment.

Dear Ron,
I hate to bear such news to you in this manner, but you are well aware of the circumstances we are all living under. I thought you should have this news now, rather than finding out at some later time. There were a series of well-planned attacks in the last few days and many were killed. Ron, dear, we've lost your father. Don't worry yourself about me. I wish I could be there for you now. Please don't do anything foolish. You and Draco keep each other safe and I will keep in touch. I love you always and hope to see you soon, Mum.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, wrapping his arms around Ron.

Ron heard nothing, his ears filled with an odd, persistent whooshing sound, the sound of waves crashing on the seashore, the sound filling his head to near bursting. He couldn't even feel Draco holding and trying to comfort him, his body wooden, weighted and utterly useless. He'd never felt so useless at any time before in his life. He couldn't even comfort his own family in their grief.

Their anticipation of more news quickly waned when letters began arriving at an alarming rate, and each one bore news as bad as the one before it. First his father. Then Percy. Then Ginny. Wasn't his family being kept in safety, too?

The letters were often painfully short, almost curt, with no details as to how the deaths occurred. They contained no other news as to what destruction Voldemort and his followers were causing, only news of the latest Weasley fatality. They were feeling more and more cut off from the outside world.

Ron had no time to recover from one blow before he was struck down again. Not that he would ever truly recover anyway. Three months after the message of his father's death, Ron realized he and his mother were the only Weasleys left. Bill, Charlie and the twins had all been lost in the intervening time.

When Ron finally crumbled, Draco was there to catch him, hold him, offer what comfort he could. Whatever fight had been in Ron was gone now. Taken from him, really, each letter sucking him dry. "I just want it to be over," he cried, letting Draco stroke his back to calm him, for all the good it would do.

~*~*~*~*~*

The sound pierced through the house, shaking the walls and waking its inhabitants abruptly. It wailed on, painfully loud and shrill, seeming to increase in intensity every few seconds.

"What the fuck is that?" Draco mouthed, knowing Ron couldn't actually hear him through the din.

"The wards are being breached!" Ron responded, grabbing his wand off the nightstand. Draco followed suit and they crept downstairs, wands at the ready. Ron was sure his ears must be bleeding, the cacophony having shattered his eardrums. He and Draco searched the house, room by room, shoulder to shoulder.

"Nothing!" Ron shrugged, looking for some clue from Draco, who was no less confused. "How do we stop the noise?"

Draco closed his eyes, trying to think, remember anything he might have learned. The wards and charms concealing their safe house were certainly made with more advanced magic than he or Ron knew, but they couldn't live much longer with this noise. Not at all sure it would have any effect, he swished his wand, speaking, "Silencio!"

The effect was immediate, surprising them both. Blessed silence. Draco opened his eyes and smiled. He knew Ron was as deaf as he at this point, their ears still ringing and buzzing.

Ron sighed with relief, rubbing at his ears fiercely. "Can you hear anything?" he asked, his voice sounding awfully loud to himself. "I wonder where the house elves are?" Draco shrugged. "Let's keep looking."

The two slipped outside for a check of the surrounding grounds. No one was hiding behind bushes or trees, nor could they find footprints or any other signs of disturbance. They stood quietly, listening for any noise out of place in the still of the night, but heard nothing. A light breeze ruffled their hair, but otherwise all was normal. They returned to the house, locking the door as best they could, knowing they would have to notify the Ministry immediately so the wards could be re-cast.

"Enjoy your evening stroll, boys?" It has been over a year since Ron or Draco had last heard a human voice other than each other's, but there was no mistaking who their midnight caller was.

"Father." Draco thought his voice sounded as calm and even as possible, given the circumstances. He hadn't thought for a moment he'd ever see his father again, much less see him standing here now. He grasped his hands be hind his back, wand ready, hoping the two of them would stand some small chance against such an experienced wizard.

"Quite the domestic scene you boys have created here," Lucius said as he meandered around the room, making a show of studying the furniture and décor.

It took all of Draco's will power, and Ron by his side, to keep him from fleeing the room. He knew Lucius wouldn't let him get very far anyway, but Draco had no desire to spend even one second in the man's presence. His skin crawled like insects swarming over him, and he had to fight the urge to vomit. Lucius acted as if he had no recollection of the violations he'd visited on his own son. For Draco, though, the memories he'd fought so hard to bury hit him full-on once again. It started in his hands, the trembling, and quickly spread throughout his body. Were Ron not standing, bracing his own shoulder behind Draco's, the blond would surely have been on the floor by now.

Lucius ended his tour of the room and stood to face them. He smiled, feeding off the aura of fear and powerlessness that radiated from them. "You needn't worry, Draco. For now, that is. You'll be taken, unharmed, to meet with Voldemort personally. Though I do hold court with him, and often have his ear on such matters, I regret that I have no say in your punishment. I'm sure he will be much more, shall we say, creative than I could even imagine. So as I said, you needn't worry. Don't trouble your little mind, as you couldn't possible divine what he has in store for you." They watched in revulsion as Lucius shivered in anticipation.

"I'm going nowhere," Draco said defiantly. "Leave us now. I don't want to kill you."

"Oh, yes you do," Lucius assured him. "I can smell it, Draco. You have planned my death so many times, you cannot decide which scenario is most appropriate for me. What I find even more delicious is that your little fuckmate hates me even more than you do. Did you know that? I'm sure you must. The hatred, pure and beautiful in its simplicity, is fairly seeping out of his pores. You've tasted it on his skin, haven't you? Quite the Death Eater he would have made, had he chosen the right side. His level of passion is rare."

"He told you to leave," Ron said, only now trusting his own voice enough to speak.

Lucius smiled again. He was going to have almost as much fun with this one as Voldemort would with his own son. "Ah. So you haven't lost the power of speech, Weasley. I'm sure your parents - oh, that would be *parent* now, wouldn't it? My condolences - wish their youngest child had chosen a different path for himself. How embarrassing that you should be the last of the Weasley line. You could have stayed away from my son, chosen some bitch to rut with and have enough brats to form your own Quidditch team. Had you done so, you might have actually lived long enough to reach the level of poverty your own family aspired to. Instead, you chose to corrupt my child. My only child. And by my hand, you will not live long enough regret what you have done."

"Dementus corpus exspare!" Sparks flew from Lucius's wand, striking Ron right between the eyes and throwing his body back against the wall. He slid to the floor, eyes rolling back in his head as his body thrashed in some type of grand mal seizure, his head repeatedly slamming into the floor.

Draco watched in horror, unable to move, as Ron thrashed on the floor. He didn't know if he had the skill to fight Lucius alone, he only knew he had to try. He steeled himself, planning his attack, knowing he'd have to act quickly before Lucius could retaliate. He had at least a few seconds advantage, as Lucius was so intent upon his torture of Ron, that he failed to notice when his son raised his own wand.

"Petrificus totalis! Expellarimus! Crucio!" The curses flew, Draco surprising his father with his speed and intensity. The elder Malfoy writhed, body arching off the floor in pain, Draco holding his wand steady as he made an urgent fire call to the Ministry.

"Send help!" he shouted. "Lucius Malfoy is here!" Four Ministry officials burst through the door only seconds later, having apparated just outside the house.

"Release him," the first man told Draco, who still held his father under Crucio. Draco gritted his teeth, at first unwilling, but he finally backed away, releasing Lucius. The four men bound Lucius under additional curses, levitated the Death Eater and three of the men took him outside to apparate back to the Ministry.

Draco stood, wand at his side, breathing with some difficulty. He couldn't believe he'd just tortured his own father with Crucio. But he'd deserved it for what he'd done. "Ron!" he suddenly remembered, turning to find the redhead still on the floor.

The fourth Ministry official was crouched at Ron's side, feeling for a pulse. "What curse did Malfoy use?"

"Dementus corpus exspare," Draco said.

"Damnit. We have to get him to hospital now. We'll have to floo since neither of you can apparate."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"I'm not a doctor," the man answered, his face betraying the answer he didn't want to give.

"Get him whatever help he needs," Draco insisted. "I'm not going to lose him."

~*~*~*~*~*

Draco stared at the mediwitch. She had said the words to him, but they hadn't sunk in. More probably, he hadn't wanted to believe them so he had essentially ignored her. "I don't understand," he said, his eyes pleading with her to give him some other explanation this time.

She could see the man's pain and wanted to ease the serious nature of the news as much as possible, but she wasn't going to lie to him. "The curse that struck Mr. Weasley, if it doesn't kill straight off, goes deep into the mind, causing massive destruction. We've learned that the actual amount of damage depends upon how long the curse was maintained. You told me it was about fifteen to twenty seconds before you were able to break it?"

"I think so. I just - I can't really be sure."

"I see. In any event, we cannot be exact in diagnosing the amount of damage on someone who survives this curse. We have no way of actually knowing how much brain function, if any, Mr. Weasley will regain."

"So you're telling me he could be like this forever?" Draco looked across the room to Ron, who lay atop the bedsheets. He was so still, he might have been asleep. Ron, who was the taller of the two, suddenly seemed so very small. Ron had opened his eyes almost immediately upon their arrival at the hospital, but he hadn't spoken or reacted in any way to what was happening to or around him. He gave no sign that he even recognized Draco when the blond kissed him on the forehead before handing him over to the mediwitch for examination.

"Yes, it's possible, but also unlikely. I don't want to give you false hope, but we have seen some remarkable recoveries from some who survive this curse. While Mr. Weasley may never be exactly as he once was, we believe you'll see substantial improvement over his current condition. I'm not going to lie to you. It's going to be very difficult, and it won't happen overnight. What Mr. Weasley needs is continual mental stimulation. It seems to be most effective when it comes from someone close to the patient. He needs to hear the voices of loved ones talking about his life, his past. The good things that happened, stories about his growing up, family vacations." She paused, studying the stricken face of the man before her and giving him a wan smile. "Falling in love." She patted his hand and continued, "Frankly, there's really not much we can do for him here but keep him fed, clean, clothed and give him a bed to sleep in. You're welcome to come every day and stay with him until lights out. He will have a private room so you can speak to him as long as you like."

"Here?" Draco asked, incredulous. "You expect me to leave him here?"

"And just where would you take him?"

"Home. It's where he belongs."

"You have no idea how difficult it is dealing with a patient in this condition. His body is dead weight. He cannot help you. Right now, he responds in only the most basic physical manner. If you put a spoonful of food in front of his mouth and he's hungry, he will eat it. You will have to lift him in and out of the bath, on and off the toilet. You'll have to clean him. While his body will void itself if necessary, he cannot . . ."

"I understand what you're saying," he assured her. "As I'm sure you must understand that I can devote 24 hours a day to him at home. If he's here, he's alone at night."

"Our staff is perfectly capable . . ."

"I'm sure they are. You must also recognize that your staff doesn't love him like his family does."

"Of course," she said, nodding in understanding.

"I need to speak with his mother to make some arrangements. It may be a few days."

She smiled in appreciation of his determination. "He can stay here until everything is taken care of. We'll take good care of him."

"I know you will. Thank you."

~*~*~*~*~*

"Mrs. Weasley?" Draco shouted through the din of carpentry hammers and saws and the commotion of workers moving throughout the house. "What is going on here?"

"Call me Molly, dear," she said, leading him into the relative quiet of the kitchen. "I'll explain it to you later. I assume the mediwitch gave you a prognosis for Ron? I've done a bit of research on the curse myself and I understand what's happened to him, and what's in store."

"I told her that he needed to be at home," he said, as worry etched itself on his face. "It didn't occur to me until just now that we don't really have one."

"Of course you do, dear. You always have a home here. Oh, forgive me. I almost forgot. You received an urgent owl an hour or so ago. Seems you're to meet a Mr. Flutter at the Ministry at 3:00pm."

"It's almost that time. I should floo there now."

"Certainly. I'll pop out to see Ron for a bit. We'll talk when you get back."

~*~*~*~*~*

"I'm here to see a Mr. Flutter," Draco said to the receptionist.

"Right this way," she said, smiling, leading Draco down a long corridor. He was ushered into a conference room to find a rather short, very round man already seated at the table.

"So good to meet you." Flutter rose from his seat, shaking Draco's hand enthusiastically. "I apologize for such short notice. Sometimes these things come up, and we find it's best to just handle them as quickly as possible. It's usually best for all parties involved."

"Just what has come up?"

"Your father's estate. As you may recall, you were disowned during your last year at Hogwarts, and your father changed his will, removing all provisions for you."

"Yes, I recall," Draco replied stonily.

"In any event, it seems you returned to your father's home at some point thereafter, and you were reinstated as sole heir."

"And?"

"And that is the last will your father executed, legally or otherwise. You remain the sole heir to your father's estate."

"And that estate entails what, exactly?"

"I've a listing of your father's holdings here." The man slid a piece of paper across to him, listing the assets of the estate. "The house and its contents, the Gringotts accounts, all yours, free and clear. I took the liberty of performing a search to be certain your father had clear title to all his assets. As you can see, there were no liens on any of his properties. You have just become a very wealthy young man, Mr. Malfoy. Here are the keys to his vaults at Gringotts." Seeing Draco's expression, he hastened to explain, "Seventeen in all. I counted them myself. One key for each vault."

"I see," Draco said almost dreamily, studying the list before him, feeling the weight of the keyring in his hand. "And why is my father's estate being discussed with me now? Shouldn't these proceedings be handled upon the death of both my parents?"

"Why, Mr. Malfoy," Flutter said solemnly. "I was sure you had been told. I apologize for the oversight. I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but I'm afraid your father is deceased."

Draco shook his head and assured the man, "He was quite alive the last time I saw him not even twenty-four hours ago."

"No, Mr. Malfoy. Your father is, in fact, deceased. He was going to be charged with the attempted murder of Mr. Weasley, and he would, of course, be held over for trial. Unfortunately, almost immediately upon his arrival at the Ministry, he committed suicide. Ministry officials were dispatched to the manor to tell your mother. She was found in her chambers by house elves. She, too, had killed herself."

"My parents committed suicide?" Draco couldn't believe they had met such an end. His mother, perhaps, as he'd always imagined she was slightly unbalanced. His father's death at his own hand, however, caught him by surprise.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Everything as of this moment is yours. You need only sign here," Mr. Flutter pointed to the title deed before him, "and it's official." Draco signed where indicated and was handed a folder full of papers. "Seems we're all finished here." Mr. Flutter stood and shook Draco's hand vigorously. "Thank you for your time. I'm sorry for your loss, and best of luck to you."

~*~*~*~*~*

"How did your meeting go?" Molly asked, meeting Draco at the fireplace. "Is everything all right?"

Draco gave her a tired smile and said, "I'll tell you in a minute. First, tell me exactly you have going on here?"

"We're adding on a suite of rooms to the first floor here. A couple of bedrooms, a bathroom and a sitting room. I thought it best that we not be tracking up and down the stairs to care for Ron. And it will be easier to take him outside on occasion."

"You've thought of everything," Draco chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That's what mothers do, dear. I know you love my son and would do anything for him. I know it's a great deal to ask of you, but I was hoping you would agree to stay here and help me care for him, at least for a little while. It will be quite a responsibility, and I could certainly use the help."

"I'd never abandon him," he assured her. "There's nowhere else I want to be."

"I am so proud of you," she beamed, cupping his face in her hands.

"Sit with me for a minute," Draco said, pulling Molly onto the couch beside him. "I have something to tell you. Please don't be angry with me." He paused, holding her hand tightly in his own. "I want to help pay our way here." He waved off the protests he could see she was about to utter. "Please, hear me out. My visit to the ministry was to see an attorney. It seems my father killed himself shortly after being arrested. My mother, too."

"Oh, Draco," Molly cried, wrapping her arms around the startled blond. She patted his back and rocked him lightly as if soothing one of her own children. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know you've had your difficulties, but still. It's a terrible thing."

"I hope you don't think I'm a hateful person for saying so, but I'm not sorry he's gone at all. After what he did to Ron and. . . Anyway, what I wanted to say is that I have inherited my father's estate. For some reason, he left me his sole heir. Everything is mine. The house, the money, everything. While I could certainly understand your not wanting to take money from Lucius Malfoy, I hope I can persuade you to take it from me. I want to see some good come out of my father's years of misdeeds. I know you must be paying a tidy sum for this addition to your home. And I still feel like what's happened to Ron and your family is my fault. If he weren't involved with me, Lucius never would have come after him. So, I want to do my part in taking care of him and your family. You've been through so much, and been more of a parent to me in the last 2 years than my own were my entire life. Let me do this for you, and for Ron."

With tears glistening in her eyes, Molly cracked a sly smile. "And what do you think Ron would have to say about this arrangement?"

"I'm sure he'd fuss, fume and turn a brilliant shade of red, but I think he would secretly enjoy making Lucius spin in his grave."

She patted his hand. "I believe you're right. Come have a look. The rooms should be finished this evening."

Draco was awestruck. Molly had made one bedroom an exact replica, albeit considerably larger, of Ron's room upstairs. The door and window were in exactly the same position, except on the bottom floor. The walls were painted the same color. He could already picture where the Chudley Cannons posters would be placed.

"I want to bring down most of Ron's things from upstairs," she said, surveying the work. "I think it should be as much like his old room as possible. Make him feel safe and secure. We'll need a different bed, a bit higher than his old one, to make moving him easier."

"You are a marvel, Molly."

"We'll also put in a smaller bed over here," she said, motioning toward a corner near the door. "For when one of us needs to stay with him through the night."

Draco blushed, remembering their discussion with the mediwitch. "When will the others be home?"

"Well, Arthur and Percy are at the Ministry, of course, so they'll be home in time for dinner. Bill, Charlie, Ginny and the twins will be coming home in during the next few days. I asked them to wait until we had Ron settled. Give him a little time to adjust."

"I'm glad you haven't been alone, Molly," Draco said quietly. "All those messages that your family had been killed. We should have known Lucius was behind it all."

"But, of course. Why would I have addressed messages only to Ron? You're part of the family, too."

~*~*~*~*~*

"You'll need some instructions before taking him home," the witch told Draco and Molly. "These may sound petty now, but over the years, we've learned what seems to work best for these patients. Don't be overwhelmed. Most of this is common sense." The two perked up, eager to know how they could help Ron in his recovery.

"Keep him around you as much as possible. Don't feed him in bed. Bring him into the kitchen to eat meals with everyone. Talk to him. Include him in your conversations. And remember not to just talk about today's events. Talk about the past. Bring up happy memories.

"Take him outside whenever you can. Due to his fair complexion, I imagine you know it's best that he not get a great deal of direct sun. Put him in a chair and, with a simple levitation charm, you can take him on a walk, but be sure he's secured in the chair first. If you have a pool or lake nearby, you may wish to take him swimming. You must be very careful in doing this, and someone will have to hold onto him at all times, of course, but the water is very soothing and calming, and is good for his muscles.

"We'll show you how to massage his muscles so they don't become atrophied. You'll need to do this every day, without fail. When Mr. Weasley begins regaining his motor skills, he'll need his muscles to be as responsive as possible." The witch had used the word *when* on purpose, and didn't miss the smiles that passed between Draco and Molly when she did so.

"When you feed him, give him small bites. He can and will chew, but the softer the food is, the better. I don't mean he has to be on a liquid diet, but it will help prevent choking. He needs plenty of liquids to avoid dehydration. Of course, this means frequent trips to the loo, but that's better than the alternative. When he is in bed, be sure to change his position frequently so as to avoid bedsores. And be sure to check on him regularly as well. Don't leave him alone for long periods of time under any circumstance, even when he's sleeping.

"It's also important to remember not to become cross with him. He can't help his condition. You're going to be spending a great deal of time with him, often cooped up inside your home. It's easy to become frustrated if you don't see any progress. But you cannot take out your frustrations on him. Don't raise your voice and for Merlin's sake, don't ever strike him. If you're having trouble coping, contact us immediately. We can send someone in for a few hours to give you a break. Understand that if we detect signs of abuse, he will be removed from your home immediately."

She could see Draco wanted to ask her a question, but was embarrassed with Molly present. "Come now, Mr. Malfoy. This is a huge undertaking. You'll both be in this together. No secrets, okay?"

Draco blushed. "I don't know how to ask this without it sounding perverted. I wondered, though, would it be okay if I slept with him? I don't mean sex or anything like it. I just wondered if the . . . closeness, the physical contact would be a good thing for him." Draco stopped and looked at Molly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . ."

"Nonsense, dear," she said patting his hand. "I know precisely what you're getting at."

"As do I, and it's perfectly fine," the witch chimed in. "Physical contact is good for these patients. Holding his hand, stroking his cheek and, yes, even the warmth of another body close by is a good thing. Though as you said, the sex is strictly off limits. It could be too taxing and, frankly, really isn't very fair to him, is it?" Draco nodded in understanding.

"For the first three months or so, we'll need to check up on him once a week, then every other week for another three months. We'll set up a regular day and time and floo in, if that's all right with you. Please also know that we're here to help you in any way we can. Remember that this is going to be very hard on the both of you and your family. Now, is there anything else you would like to know?"

Draco shook his head, "No, I think you've covered it. I'm sure more questions will come up as soon as we get him home, though."

"We're just a floo away. Now, are you ready to take Mr. Weasley home?"

~*~*~*~*~*

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