InsaneJournal

FIC: Fractured and Tethered, 6/7, Ron/Draco, NC-17
Title: Fractured and Tethered 6/7 [COMPLETE]
Author: Tarie
Pairing: Ron/Remus, Ron/Draco, implied Bill/Remus
Rating: NC-17
Length: 36,500
Summary: The war may be over, but the race is on to save Harry's life.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and universe are property of JKR, Scholastic & other assorted publishers, and the WB.
A/N: Written for merry_smutmas 2006 for thrihyrne . Eternal thanks and gratitude to my beta readers, mad_maudlin and nqdonne. Without their suggestions and keen eyes, this fic would be a jumbled mess. Also thanks to inthesewalls and Maud for excellent suggestions during the pre-writing stage, to ella_bane and legomymalfoy for their unrelenting encouragement and for the late-night buddy-up writing sessions. Lastly, a huge thank you to Gina for being so incredibly accommodating and not killing me for stomping all over my deadline.
*******

"Ron!"

For a second Ron thought he could pretend he hadn't heard Hermione, just put a bit of speed on and disappear down round the corridor's bend.

That had only been for a second, and then logic took over.

He paused, waited a moment, got rid of what was undoubtedly a guilty expression on his face, and pivoted round to see her, a slight, surprised smile firmly in place.

"Hermione! Hullo." Please don't ask what I've been doing down here. He was a crap liar; Hermione would see right through him; he'd have to blow Malfoy's cover; and it would be a horrendous bloody mess.

"I waited for you, but you never showed up to sit with Harry. Caecelia Dearborn came in and sat with me a bit when she and Moody came to relieve Diggle, but I was been expecting you."

Oh, bollocks. Think, Weasley, think.

"That. Right...." Faltering, Ron shifted his weight from foot to foot, and then genius struck: he put on a coughing fit. "I'm having a time of it today. Sorry, I should've sent a message with Pig."

Hermione's face scrunched up and she tilted her head, looking at him with concern. "That's all right," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Have you taken anything?"

Ron nodded emphatically. "Yeah, some Pepper-Up," he said, the lie rolling easily off his tongue.

"Good." She gave him a pat on the arm, then moved to go around him, but obviously changed her mind and stopped.

Ron looked at her expectantly. "Something bothering you? Do you need help with any of the S.P.E.W.S. paperwork?"
"No, I've that under control, but thank you – though I may ask you to help with badges and things later on, if you don't mind?"

Doing his best to keep a straight face and not sputter/howl with laughter at the memory of the badges she'd made for S.P.E.W. back in Hogwarts, Ron shook his head. Actually, he minded. He minded a lot, but it was for Hermione, so he'd do it. Simple as that.

"Brilliant, thank you, Ron," Hermione beamed. Her head inclined the other way and she hesitated for a moment before saying, "You haven't been in my room recently, have you?"

That was definitely a random question. Puzzled, Ron made an "uh-uh" sound.

"I didn't think so," Hermione said slowly, "but it's the oddest thing."

"What's so odd about what?"

"Furniture's been moved. Not much, from what I can see but, for example, there are two more inches between the headboard and the wall than there were yesterday. A vase is facing the wrong direction on the writing desk – I'd a specific part of the pattern facing me and now it's different."

"Have you asked Bill or Remus if they were in there looking for something?" Ron asked, a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Before Hermione even moved to shake her head, Ron was confident the answer would be 'no'.

"I've even asked Dobby," Hermione said with a frown. "No one's been in there but me."

"Huh," Ron said lamely, and then shrugged. "I dunno, Hermione. You've been keeping horrid hours lately. You do realise how many hours you spend at St Mungo's with Harry and how hard you work on your S.P.E.W.S. project when you come back here, yeah?"

"I do," she admitted slowly.

"So it's possible you're remembering things incorrectly." Punctuating the suggestion with a small smile, Ron reached over to pat her hand. He felt a bit like a prick for doing it because he was fairly positive he knew what was going on with Hermione's things, but he would keep his suspicions to himself. To help Harry.

Right.

"It's possible." Rolling her eyes, Hermione laughed at herself. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?"

"Nah. Not at all." Ron grinned a bit when Hermione turned her hand over to catch his. "Want to go bother Dobby and have a cuppa? I'll even make the tea — for us and Dobby. What d'you say?"

She brightened at that, and Ron felt some of the guilt that had been building dissipate. "That sounds lovely."

**********

Breakfast turned out to be quite the tense affair once Ron told Bill, Remus, and Hermione about Harry's condition. Once Ron finished explaining everything, three pairs of eyes stared at him over the rims of steaming cuppas.

It was absolutely silent, so silent that it was rapidly becoming unbearable. Clearing his throat, Ron pushed his porridge around his bowl with the side of his spoon.

"How can you possibly know that?" Hermione asked finally.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Ron challenged. He absolutely could not give Malfoy up. He could not. He would not. Somehow, someway he had to get them all to believe him.

"It isn't that we don't believe you, Ron. It's just that– how the hell do you know that? You said the Healers don't know anything about it, so how can you?" Bill set his cuppa down, his mouth scrunching to one side. Ron could practically see the wheels in his head begin to spin, trying to make sense of it all.

There wasn't any way he could explain things without implicating Malfoy. And since he refused to give Malfoy up, he'd have to try another tactic. "Just...just trust me on this, okay? I wouldn't be making this up, not when it's about Harry."

Remus, who had straightened in his chair as though he were about to counter Ron, grew silent. Then he nodded. "What you're saying does make a great deal of sense."

Hermione and Bill's chairs scraped against the floor as they both turned to stare at him. Ron gnawed on the inside of his cheek, waiting impatiently for someone else to bloody speak.

"Sense or not, we're not Healers. Sure, we know basic Healing magic, but Harry's not got a 'basic' sort of problem," Bill said.

"Since when did you become such an expert on the Dark Arts, Ron?" Hermione said, her eyes slightly bugged out in that 'I'm not quite sure I believe you' air she got with Ron from time to time.

"I never said I was an expert! God!" Ron grumbled.

"Clearly you must be if you worked all that about Harry out on your own," she said pointedly.

Merlin in a ruddy Christmas cracker, she was seriously testing his patience.

"Look, this is about Harry, not me and what I do and do not know about Dark Arts. What I do know is this: Harry's soul is pulling away, so that means he's in bloody trouble. I also know -- and you would too if you'd seen the damned article that ran in the Prophet the other day -- the Ministry pretty much wants Harry to stay a sodding vegetable. They're upholding him as some sort of savior, a symbol for the fucking future. You know as well as I that Harry wants nothing to do with Scrimgeour!" Ron pounded his fist on the table and the china rattled. If they would focus on what was important instead of the messy background information, they'd see how dire Harry's situation was.

"I saw the article." Hermione's brow furrowed together and her mouth set in a line so thin it nearly disappeared. "It would be in the Ministry's advantage for Harry to stay like he is...."

"Which would explain why the Healers have made no fucking progress with his case," Ron added. "Yeah, we've not told them about the Horcruxes or the thing about Harry and Voldemort's wands 'cos we've to keep it quiet for now, but if I--" He winced a moment, guilt flaring at taking credit for something Malfoy'd done. "-- can figure it out, surely Healers who've seen all sorts of strange shite should've been able to see it too."

"I wouldn't put it past our dear Minister Scrimgeour--" Remus' lips twisted wryly as he continued. "--to have ordered St Mungo's staff to ease off of finding a cure for Harry's malady."

"We need to get Harry out of there, if that's the case. And now." Bill pushed back his chair, then flipped the top on his wristwatch. Pressing his finger to the glass plate, he moved it around in a circle slowly, presumably tracking a few of the hands. He abruptly snapped it shut, looking from Ron to Hermione to Remus. "Moody'll be on patrol there in a quarter hour. That'd be the best time to get Harry out."

"The Healers can't do anything for him there, obviously, so it's up to us to help him break away from Voldemort's soul," Hermione agreed, rising to her feet as well.

Remus and Ron followed suit, and Ron felt an immense wave of relief wash over him. Not only did they believe what he'd told them, but he didn't have to rat out Malfoy and they were going to get Harry and work on helping him right then and there.

"Yes, it would be best if we remove Harry ourselves. Checking him out of St Mungo's legally will arouse suspicion from the press; so it would be to our advantage if people believed him to be missing," Remus mused aloud. Ron got the distinct feeling that by 'people', Remus actually meant 'Death Eaters'.

"Moody'll make diversions. That bint at reception's a horrid snoop," Ron commented, and the rest of them nodded in agreement. And then it occurred to him that they ought to get a start on researching how to cut the connection between Harry and Voldemort as soon as possible. "One of us ought to stay here and make some headway researching things, yeah?"

"I could–" Hermione started, but Ron cut her off.

"I was thinking I could do it? There're a few books in the library I'm keen on as it is, and they," Ron gestured toward the other two, "could use your quick thinking if you happen to get in a bind."

It took but a moment for Hermione to consider that, and Ron mentally patted himself on the back for pointing out Hermione's assets in high-stakes situations.

"Send an owl ahead to Moody, will you?" Bill asked as Remus began ushering them all out of the dining hall.

"I'm on it." As Bill, Remus, and Hermione headed to the Floo in the parlor, Ron made a beeline to his room, where Pig's cage awaited.

**********

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"I dunno," Ron said with a shrug. Then: "It's your fucking library; show me where the Dark Arts books are."

"It's not my library anymore," Malfoy said pointedly. "As it comes with the manor, and you have taken great joy in pointing out that the manor is no longer part of my family, it would seem that the library would no longer be mine as well."

Cranky arse. Ron should have left him in his damned 'hole' rather than bring him out to be useful while Remus, Bill, and Hermione were committing a little kidnapping at St Mungo's.

"Fine. It's not your fucking library. But you do know it, so show me where some useful books might be," Ron said with an exceeding amount of patience.

"I'm quite sure the Ministry confiscated any books they deemed 'dangerous'." Malfoy began to walk along the long wall of books, his head tilting back. The higher the shelves, the less books there were. Ron scowled; fucking Ministry. How dangerous could bloody books be?

Riddle's diary nearly killed Gin and it was a ruddy Horcrux.

Okay, so books could be a bit dangerous.

"Here," Malfoy said finally, pointing to a shelf halfway up the wall. "Let's start there."

There wasn't a ladder in sight so, shrugging, Ron brandished his wand, Levitating a stack of books down from the shelf Malfoy indicated. Guiding them to a long table near a stained glass window, they bumped against one another before coming to rest on the table with a soft thump. Rolling up his shirt sleeves, Ron tucked into a chair, opening up the book nearest him. Malfoy meandered over to where Ron was sitting and drummed his fingers on the table.

"So what shall we look for, exactly? Besides Horcruxes?" Ron asked, finger skimming over the table of contents.

"Hmmm," Malfoy murmured, taking a book off the top of the stack and sliding into the chair across from Ron. "Life bonds? Soul bonds? Particularly accidental, in either case."

"Right," Ron said quickly, as though he'd been the one to think of it and not Malfoy. "Of course."

Malfoy made one of those annoying tongue clucking sounds and flipped open his book.

Ron was in the middle of his third book when the conversation he'd had with Hermione the night before came to mind. Dog-earing the page he was currently looking at, Ron closed the book, folding his arms on the table, stared at Malfoy, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Stop your staring, Weasel." Wetting the pad of his thumb, Malfoy flipped to the next page in his book, not bothering to look up.

"What were you doing going through Hermione's things?"

That did it; Malfoy closed the book and lifted his gaze, an expression of polite bewilderment etched upon his pointy, pale features. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said evenly.

Oh, but he did. Malfoy knew perfectly well. If he thought he was fooling Ron, he was only deluding himself. "When I caught you outside near the mausoleum, you said you were looking for something. So you thought the something might be in Hermione's room?"

The only indication Malfoy gave that he was listening was the flaring of his nostrils.

A bit smug at that, Ron continued, "Something of your mum's? I know that room was hers; Dobby told me."

"Piss off," Malfoy snapped, the hold he'd had on his emotions now gone.

"No. Tell me what you're looking for." Pushing his book away, Ron stood up, then leant across the table to get right in Malfoy's face. "I'm fucking serious, Malfoy. Tell me."

"I was fucking serious when I told you to piss off," Malfoy said with a glower. He shoved his chair back so quickly that it nearly topped over. "I'm through with helping you and Potty," he sneered as he attempted to side-step Ron when he moved to block Malfoy's exit.

"You're not through until I say you are," Ron shouted, incensed at Malfoy's utter nerve. How could he be semi-bearable one minute and an absolute stonkingly annoying fucker the next?

"You're not the boss of me, Weasel," Malfoy sneered.

"Of course I'm not – you're still too hung up on Lucius and ruddy Voldemort," Ron shot back. He knew it was dirty, knew it was untrue, but it would hurt Malfoy so he didn't give a sodding lick about it.

Malfoy's skin, usually so pale one could see some of the larger veins beneath it, mottled red. "Bloody– bastard–" he choked, and then all of a sudden Ron's arse was pressed against the table and Malfoy's hands were all over him, poking and tugging and rubbing.

And then Ron wanted very much to poke and tug and rub back, so he did.

Malfoy moaned.

Then Ron moaned.

And then Ron stopped fighting because Malfoy was looking at him with flushed skin and narrowed, predatory eyes. Strangely dizzy from getting caught up in Malfoy's eyes, Ron blinked, and then Malfoy's face was pressed against his chest. Ron sucked in a larger breath and then nearly choked to death because Malfoy's tongue darted out to lap at the moisture that had collected in the hollow of his throat. Malfoy's tongue was warm and wet and smooth, and it felt really fucking good as it slid down as far as it could go until Ron's collar got in the way. Malfoy grunted, and Ron shoved a hand in between them to grab hold of his shirttails, hiking it up to the centre of his chest. There was a brief moment in which Ron thought he just fucked everything up; Malfoy froze, staring back at him.

When Ron looked away and began to lower the shirt again, Malfoy sprung into action. His mouth latched onto one of Ron's nipples, tongue swirling along the edges, teeth tugging on the hard tip. Ron's head fell back and he began to gurlgle as Malfoy's hand came up to pay attention to the other nipple, pinching and then rubbing over it to smooth out the pain.

Ron's arms flailed a bit until his hands made their way into Malfoy's white-blond hair, twisting and clutching and just holding on. Malfoy sank lower and lower, and God but Ron wanted to feel the prat everywhere. Adrenaline raced through his veins, his heart pounded madly in his chest, and he wasn't gentle about it at all as he pushed down firmly atop Malfoy's crown. Malfoy jerked his head back, eyes looking up to Ron.

Do it, Ron willed, staring back at him, breath coming out in short, quick pants. Just fucking do it.

Malfoy's knees hit the floor, and Ron's heart nearly imploded in his chest as he looked at the picture before him. Malfoy – snotty Slytherin Draco Malfoy – was on the floor on his fucking knees in front of Ron Weasley, and he looked as far gone as Ron felt.

Malfoy reached up, pressing the heel of his palm against the front of Ron's trousers. Ron's cock curved out to greet it, pressing against it, separated only by fabric and a matter of time.

Do it.

In a matter of moments Ron's fly was undone and trousers and shorts pooling somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, Malfoy's breath ghosting over his thighs and across the head of his cock. Ron whimpered, hips straining forward. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach, sick from anxiousness and want and excitement, and he nearly went dizzy when Malfoy licked the palm of his own hand.

This was really going to happen. Malfoy was really going to touch him, and they were really going to do this.

"Fuck yeah," Ron breathed as Malfoy's thumb ran over his foreskin. Then when Malfoy replaced his thumb with his tongue, Ron lurched forward, hands scrabbling to hold onto the side of Malfoy's face. He moaned as Malfoy used his whole hand to stroke the length of Ron's cock, nails scraping along the underside. His hips canted forward and he bit his lip hard, Malfoy's mouth sucking the tip of his cock in his mouth. Malfoy alternated the pressure, then pulled back, held a beat, then moved forward again, sliding his mouth all along the line of Ron's shaft.

"Ohmygohhhhhhhhhhh," Ron groaned, hands moving up to tangle in Malfoy's hair again. Malfoy then did something with his hands to the spot between his cock and his balls and Ron's mouth opened and shut soundlessly. If he were one of those Muggle eklectrical things his dad used to tinker about with, he would have circuited his shorts right then and there. Ron's head tipped to one side and every muscle in his face seemed to spasm; he couldn't lift up his fucking head or close his mouth. In fact, all he seemed to be able to do was thrust himself further and further into Malfoy's mouth. All in all, as long as he could still fuck Malfoy's mouth, Ron was good to go.

Malfoy began to alternate using his mouth and his hands, pumping him a few times before taking Ron fully in his mouth, his lips covering his teeth as he moved down wetly and rapidly. Ron moved to meet him, grunting with abandon as he felt himself slip to the back of Malfoy's throat. He had to screw his eyes shut when he felt Malfoy's fingers behind his balls, moving back to press teasingly against his entrance and then–

"–to the suite just down from mine...."

Oh fuck. They're back.

Malfoy froze and Ron had to cram a fist in his mouth to muffle his cries as he came, pulsing in Malfoy's mouth. As Hermione's voice began to sound closer and closer, Bill and Remus's chiming in here and there, Malfoy sucked Ron's semen down as Ron's other hand began to slip out of Malfoy's hair and run across his jaw, his cheek. And then it was all over Fucking spent but unable to collapse like he wanted lest they get found out, he shoved Malfoy off. They hurriedly rearranged their clothing as Ron shooed him out of the library's rear exit. Just as he began to close the door, Ron saw Hermione standing across the room, obviously scanning it for him. Shutting it as quickly and quietly as possible, he rushed after Malfoy, ushering him down the corridor.

Once Malfoy had disappeared to the manor's lower level, Ron ducked in the nearest loo and slumped against the wall.

That had been too close.

**********

They never talked about what happened in the library. They never talked about what happened in the bath, either.

Ron was fine with not talking about it because not talking about it meant they could both pretend it didn't happen.

There was a perfectly good reason as to why Malfoy and he had done the things they had. Malfoy's only human contact was with Ron, so clearly Malfoy was desperate for closeness. That would explain why he rubbed himself off on Ron and why he sucked Ron off. Right. Malfoy was definitely needy and since Ron was the only person he had, Malfoy latched on and pinned different labels on him: Healer. Cook. Launderer. Companion. Lover.

Lover?

Fucking hell, no. Strike that. What about Warm Body?

No, I'm not about to let myself be fucking used.

If you weren't being used, then you did all that shite willingly.

Ron promptly began to ignore the voices in his head. What did he know anyway? What happened between Malfoy and him wasn't a big deal. At all. Much.

Scowling, Ron shoved all those unpleasant thoughts aside, taking a peek in Harry's room. Harry had been in the manor for a few days, and everyone agreed that they'd done the right thing by sneaking Harry out of St Mungo's. He was so skinny now that circles protruded under his eyes. His skin had a yellowish cast to it, and every few moments his entire frame would jerk. The faster they found a way to sever the connection between Harry and Voldemort's dead soul, the better.

"Soon, mate," Ron whispered as he closed the door. Soon.

**********

The day the Prophet finally ran a front-page headline screaming about Harry's disappearance from St Mungo's (everyone agreed the Ministry must have paid the Prophet off to keep the whole thing secret for as long as possible), Hermione found a passage in a very old, very musty tome that had been tucked away on one of the highest shelves in the manor's library that made her shriek.

"I've found something!" she cried, standing up so quickly that her chair wobbled.

"What?" Ron asked eagerly.

Bill closed the book he was looking at, and both Weasleys turned to stare at Hermione expectantly.

Marking her book, she tucked it under her arm. "Let's go to Harry's room. Remus will want to hear this as well."

So the three of them left the library, filing into Harry's room. Remus, who had been reading a bit of Quidditch Through the Ages to Harry, lowered the book to his lap. "Have you found anything?" he asked slowly, as though he almost hated to ask in case the answer might be unfavorable.

"Yes," Hermione said breathlessly, opening the book to her marked page.

"Well?" Ron asked impatiently. "Out with it!"

"According to something I read yesterday, brother wands have been known to create problems for any wizards who happen to engage in dueling. In 1503, two men in Godwick who had brother wands, unicorn hair from the same stallion, dueled and there were strange results. One man cast a charm to remove the other's head – as though Apparating it elsewhere, I suppose, as surely–"

"Hermione," Ron cut in, "does this or does this not have a point?"

He was rewarded with a glare. "Yes, of course it does. As I was saying, the man's head ended up sprouting out of the shoulder of the other." Everyone in the room shuddered, and Hermione continued. "When brother wands are used against each other, magic can often backfire disastrously, as it did in 1503 in Godwick. And in here–" She gestured to the book in her hand. "– I've come across soul bonding. Soul bonding is very complicated magic, and it's something that very few people do because of the risks. If one of the persons whom had performed the Soul Bond Ritual passes away, the other typically commits suicide within days, as their own soul begins to leave their body the moment the bonded soul has left that of the other."

Ron frowned, trying to digest this information.
"So why do it in the first place?" Bill mused.

"When you love someone, you love them completely, mind, body, and soul. What better way to have a connection with each piece of them than to do that?" Remus countered, a brief, sad smile flickering across his face.

Bill nodded solemnly, and Ron couldn't look at either of them without thinking of Tonks and Fleur and all the other people they'd all lost, so he stared hard at the scar on Harry's head.

"But Harry and Voldemort didn't Soul Bond, so what gives?"

"No, they didn't Soul Bond, not willingly, anyway," Hermione said, and Ron turned round to look at her.

"The brother wands must have played a part in this," Remus said thoughtfully.

"So how do we fix it?" Bill asked, and Ron echoed his question.

"Yeah, how do we fix it? We don't want Harry to die and we don't want him to wake up like he'd got the Dementor's Kiss, so what can we do?" Ron said, moving to stand beside Hermione, glancing down at the book.

"There's something called a Severance Solution – a potion I've certainly never heard of before," Hermione said with a frown. "It says here it's only been used once or twice – the potion must be poured over the bones of the owner of the dead soul. Apparently the potion liquidates the bones, destroying the earthly ties the soul has, thereby freeing the soul that's attached to it. I suppose it hasn't been used all that much because it would be quite traumatic to lose your loved one and desecrate the body they'd left behind."

Ron's mouth scrunched up. "The whole thing's fucking mental."

"I suppose it would be romantic if there wasn't the risk you could turn into a soulless body or have to choose between killing yourself or destroying the only thing you'd left of your lover," Hermione said briskly, closing the book and placing it under her arm again.

"But there isn't anything left of Voldemort," Ron protested. "Not physically, anyway. So we're bloody screwed."

"There may be nothing left of Voldemort, per se, but there are the graves of his parents to consider," Remus commented, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We know where they're buried; their bones would would fulfill the requirements of the Severance Solution -- they hold the genetics that made up and had been passed along to Voldemort."

Bill let out a whoop, clapping Remus on the back. Remus chuckled, returning the favour, and Ron's gaze swung from one to the other. He wasn't even jealous. Ron had no claim on Remus, nor did he want anything of Remus beyond friendship. If what he suspected was going on might even be the slightest bit true, he would be happy for them.

"Well," Ron said slowly, one corner of his mouth hitching up, "I reckon we ought to get busy locating bones and finding out how to make this Severance Solution, eh?"

**********

Later that evening, Ron delivered Malfoy's dinner. As he'd taken to doing, Ron sat with him, taking a cuppa. Malfoy didn't complain much about Ron's cooking anymore, though he did more talking than eating. That night's topic of conversation was Hermione's discovery.

"– yeah," Ron nodded, running a finger around the rim of his mug. "And the worst part is, this potion? None of us have heard about it before, and so far none of the books in the library are any help."

Malfoy set down his fork and pushed his plate away. "What's the name of the potion?" he asked, a queer expression on his face.

"Some sort of Solution," Ron said, watching curiously as Malfoy rose from his seat. "Severance? Yeah, that's it."

"Severance Solution," Malfoy muttered to himself. "Severance Solution." And then he looked over at Ron. "That sounds familiar."

"It does?" Ron asked slowly, hardly daring to hope that Malfoy might be onto something.

"It does," Malfoy said firmly, and then he rifled through the contents of his desk for a minute before producing several scrolls of parchment.

"What're those?" Setting his cuppa down, Ron crossed over to Malfoy, peering down at the lot.

"These," Malfoy said, "are Snape's. He gave them to me."

"He gave them to you? When?"

Malfoy waved a hand impatiently. "Before he left the country, but that isn't important." He thrust a few scrolls at Ron. "You look through these and I'll go through these. I know I've seen that potion in here somewhere."

Heart tattooing wildly in his chest, Ron unfastened the ribbons holding the scrolls shut and opened them. Smoothing them out, his eyes flew across the sheets. Snape's handwriting was small and cramped; nearly every bit of the parchment was black with ink. Beside him, Malfoy made soft noises, muttering to himself every so often before tossing the scroll on the floor and moving to the next one.
Beginning to get discouraged, Ron set aside the scrolls he'd already inspected. There were two left on his pile, and he pulled the one that had been on the bottom out, skimming. The words were beginning to swim before his eyes; he had to squint to read most of Snape's bloody minute writing.

And then he saw it – Severance Solution.

"Oh," Ron breathed. "OH. Malfoy, look!"

In his excitement, Ron jostled Malfoy's elbow, causing him to drop the scroll he'd been looking at. "What, Weasley?" Malfoy asked exasperatedly, stooping to retrieve his scroll.

"Here it is!" Shoving the parchment under Malfoy's nose, Ron grinned broadly. "Right there! See?"

"I see," Malfoy frowned, scanning the parchment. "Some of these ingredients will be particularly hard to come by."

Ron didn't give a toss about that; what mattered was that they'd found the recipe. Thanks to Malfoy, they found it, and Ron couldn't take the credit for this, nor could he hide Malfoy's presence anymore. It if weren't for Malfoy (and Snape's notes), Harry would be doomed. Besides, there would be no way he could explain to the others how he just happened to have acquired notes bearing Snape's handwriting.

He had to tell them, and now.

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