FIC: Fractured and Tethered, 2/7, Ron/Draco, NC-17
Title: Fractured and Tethered 2/7 [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.
*******

In the end, Hermione stayed behind at the hospital while Remus and Ron went to the Burrow to collect Bill and gather up his things. Ron stood at the end of the lane leading to the Burrow while Remus and Bill packed up a few trunks with clothing and other necessities. He felt a bit daft for standing at the edge of the property, but Ron knew it was for the best. His insides were already all out of sorts because of Harry; he wouldn't have been able to cope with the flood of emotions that entering the home which no longer housed the majority of his family would have brought on.

As Bill Levitated the last of the trunks out, coughing something terrible, Ron went along the fence toward a small shed that housed all of the Weasley children's brooms. The best way to get to Wiltshire would be flying, he reckoned. A Disillusionment Charm would be all they needed to disguise themselves from the Muggles and they could be on their way. Ron needed the distraction of flying, of the wind stinging his face and whipping his hair about as they soared high above the land, to keep him from becoming too maudlin.

"Oi, Ronnie," Bill called after him, and Ron turned round, standing to his full height. He was taller than Bill now and twenty-two; he didn't need to be called Ronnie anymore. Ron didn't like it, but it reminded him of Mum so he let it go, waving at his brother and Remus from across the way.

"What's that?"

"I've arranged for a Portkey." Beside Bill, Remus held up a manky old tin, and Ron sighed. There went the broom idea.

"No flying?" Ron asked hopefully, though he knew the answer was no.

"I've a horrid cold already, Ronniekins," Bill said, slinging an arm around Ron and pulling him close. Ruffing up Ron's hair, he added, "I'll catch my death if we brave the frigid skies, and while I'm all for danger, I don't think--"

Ron hadn't realised he'd made a face, though he must have for how quickly Bill cut off.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Ron I–"

"'s ok," he mumbled, then gave Bill an elbow. "Oi, prat, why've you not had some Pepper-Up or summat?"

"The pantry is quite bare," Remus said as he performed a Shrinking Charm on the trunks. "We packed what we could, but there weren't many potions ingredients in storage."

"What?" Ron looked at Bill with surprise. Last time he'd been at the Burrow, the pantry had been filled with a variety of herbs, roots, and other items used in a plethora of potions.

"Had to sell most of the lot," Bill said sheepishly, busying himself with stuffing a trunk in each pocket of his leather trousers. After a rather nasty coughing fit, he added, "Needed the money for food."

"I thought Percy was going to send Galleons over from the–"

"Gringott's stopped international deposits six months ago, Ron. Ministry's orders." Remus' mouth set in a thin line.

"Egomaniacal bastards," Ron said darkly, and Bill merely nodded.

"Yeah."

"Well, I believe that's everything, then." Remus held up the can. "It's almost time."

Perhaps a minute passed after all three had placed a finger on the can before Ron felt the familiar hook-behind-the-navel sensation of being pulled up off the ground and hurtled toward his destination. His feet slammed down roughly against hard earth and he fell on his arse just outside the front gate of Malfoy Manor. Beside him Bill coughed, Remus groaned, and the tin clattered against a rock.

"All right, then?" Ron clambered to his feet, brushing grass and soil off his bum.

"I'm still whole," Remus said bemusedly.

Wand out, Bill approached the gate cautiously. "How do we get in?"

"The Ministry told Harry they'd removed all the wards Lucius Malfoy had on the place." Wrinkling his nose, Ron performed a simple Unlocking Charm and the gate swung open easily. "Some of them were dead nasty. Bloody hell, he was a sick one."

"I've no doubt about that," Bill muttered, falling into step beside Remus as Ron led the way through the Walking Garden to the front door.

As the overly large double doors swung open to reveal what had once been a grandiose foyer, Bill whistled, and then began to cough.

"Yes," Remus murmured, "this had once been most impressive." Though the floor was relatively clean, it was quite obvious where things -- furniture, sculptures, et cetera -- had been removed, taken away by the Ministry. The walls were dank and dusty from lack of care, and the candelabra overhead was in need of repair.

"Still is, unfortunately." Craning his neck, Ron's eyes seemed to lift forever before he actually saw the sodding ceiling. Their voices echoed for what seemed like forever in the vast cavern, and he shrugged, not caring to dwell much on what the horrid place looked like. It wouldn't look like this after Harry was done with it anyway, so why 'ooh' and 'ahh' over it now? Motioning the two of them to follow, Ron cut across to the grand staircase and ascended the stairs.

"The main living quarters are to the left of the first landing," he explained, glancing over his shoulder at them every so often. "There's a room with all sorts of hides and mounts on the wall -- and not just any animals, but loads from Africa; I figure that's where you can stay, Bill."

"Skins and mounts, I see where I rate, mate," Bill returned, though Ron knew from both the tone and his grin that Bill thought it would be brilliant. This place definitely wasn't the bloody Burrow, but maybe a little reminder of a place Bill had called also home for a number of years would be good for him.

Sure enough, when Bill saw the room with his own eyes he proclaimed it to be 'brilliant' as such and there wasn't much setting up Ron and Remus needed to do to make sure he was comfortable. After performing an Engorgement Charm on the trunks and everything was put away, Ron promised he'd get Bill a proper Pepper-Up potion when he went to St Mungo's the following day. Once they'd bade Bill goodnight, Ron and Remus idly wandered the corridors, looking in at the various rooms until Ron decided he'd take one on the far end of the hall. The room was considerably smaller than the one Bill occupied, though it was still larger than the entire first floor of the Burrow. No animal skins or mounts here, though there were tapestries depicting dragons being slain by wizards riding all sorts of Winged Horses and such.

"Cor, is this really necessary?" Ron said half to himself as Remus Enlarged his trunk.

"No, it isn't, though ostentation rarely is." He smiled faintly, though the smile did not reach his eyes.

"Yeah," Ron said lamely, feeling awkward and miserable all of a sudden.

"Have I– Have I said something wrong?" Remus' hand froze on the latch of the trunk.

Ron shook his head. "No, I– It's just–"

"You're worried about Harry," Remus finished.

"Yeah."

"I'm worried about him as well, Ron. It's perfectly natural to–"

Remus was only trying to help, though right then Ron didn't want or need any help.

"Stop," Ron said loudly. "Just stop, okay? I don't–"

"Ron."

"– give a flying shrivelfig if it's perfectly natural to do this or that–"

"Ron."

"– or what-the-sodding-hell-ever; I just want Harry to be all–"

"Ron, please listen to–"

"– right. ALL RIGHT?"

He'd been so worked up that he hadn't noticed Remus advance until then. They were toe-to-toe, Ron's chest heaving so forcefully that it pushed out against Remus' with every exhalation.

"All right," Remus said softly, and Ron turned away.

He leant against a bedpost, the intricate carving digging against his forehead. "Just leave, all right?"
"No, I'm afraid I can't do that."

"I need you to leave," Ron whispered, screwing his eyes shut tight. This was all too fucking much. Harry, Bill being like he was, leaving the Burrow...

"You need many things, but being alone isn't one of them right now."

Ron shifted closer to the post, wrapping his hands around it, as though holding onto it would make everything better. His shoulders stiffened and he exhaled sharply.

"Did I say something wrong?"

There were footsteps behind him and then they stopped. Ron could sense Remus standing just behind him, but he could not bring himself to turn around to face his former professor.

"No," Ron whispered. "I just...I feel..."

"How do you feel?"

He swallowed hard. "Helpless. I feel helpless."

"I don't think there is any other way to feel in this situation, Ron. You and Hermione did all you could while you were there, and now Harry's care is in the hands of others, others who are trained in the art of Healing Magic. But that doesn't mean that you aren't still helping, nor should you forget that fact. By being here, you are a help to Harry, just as much as you are when you simply sit by his bedside and talk to him or silently keep him company."

Loosening his grip on the pole, Ron slid his hands down inch by inch. When they reached the bottom, he unthreaded his fingers and pulled his hands away, turning and pressing his back against the pole. Meeting Remus' eyes, he said angrily, "How? How, Remus? You can't know that."

"You're right," Remus said slowly, his mouth curving wryly. "I can't, but I can have faith. I can believe that you are. More importantly, I choose to believe that you are."

Ron's breath caught in his throat for a moment. "Why?" he asked simply. Although he very much wanted to look away, he found he could not.

"Because you are a good person, Ron, and Harry believes in you implicitly."

Ron felt his mouth gaping open a little, and he forcibly shook his head to bring himself round. "Yeah?" he asked hoarsely. It meant something to Ron that Harry believed in him, that Profe– Remus felt he was a good person. Ron rarely stopped to think about anything other than Harry or Hermione or his family, so it was almost shocking to hear that people thought about him at all, let alone thought good things.
"Yes," Remus confirmed. "As do I."

Impulsively Ron leant forward at that, pressing his lips softly to Remus'.

Remus froze beneath him, and Ron pulled back, chest heaving, nerves on end.

"Ron," he said, "we can't."

"Why not?" Ron breathed, fingers aching to reach out and touch.

"Because I'm–"

"So help me God if you say old I'll sodding hex you."

One corner of Remus' mouth turned up, albeit sadly. "No, I was merely going to say that it was improper. I was your professor, and I'm not goo–"

"'It's just Remus, Ron. I haven't been your professor in some time.'" Ron repeated Remus' earlier words and gave him a pointed look.

"Oh." Remus stared at him for several long seconds, a sheepish expression on his face. "Using my own words against me. Clever."

"A bloke learns a thing or two about cleverness being best mates with Hermione Granger for twelve years." Giving into the urge, Ron ghosted his fingers along the line of Remus' arm. "And if you think you aren't good enough for me, that's bollocks."

"But I–"

"You believe in me," Ron choked. "So let me believe in you."

"So stub–"

Ron took that as a 'yes' and surged forward, lips touching Remus' for the second time in a few short moments. His knees buckled slightly as excitement began to course through him, and then Remus' arms encircled his waist as he pushed Ron back against the bedpost. A low moan escaped from the back of Ron's throat, but was lost in Remus' mouth as it opened under his. And then Remus' mouth was gone far too quickly; he pulled back and stared at Ron critically with narrowed, dark eyes.

"Turn around, Ron," he said firmly

Though Ron wanted to ask why, he did not. He simply turned, facing the post once more.

"Place your hands at the top."
Ron complied and was rewarded by hot breath against his ear. "Just because we've both lost things doesn't mean we're lost." He nodded, moaning again as he felt Remus pull the hem of his shirt up over his belly.

"N-no," Ron stammered, pushing his hips hard against the pole, needing some sort of friction there. Any friction. Remus tugged slightly and Ron raised his arms higher, a chill racing down his spine as Remus' hands, calloused and cool, ran lightly over his muscles, thumbs swirling around the nipples.

This closeness was what Ron needed, and he pressed his forehead against the post again, not caring a whit about the carvings digging into his skin this time around as he reached behind to light his hands against the hard angles of Remus' hips. This was comfort and distraction and good, and Ron would think of nothing else but this moment.

Lips pressed against the column of his throat, gliding down to suckle the soft spot where neck met shoulder.

"Christ," Ron gasped, hips snapping against the post.

There was a muffled laugh against his skin, and Ron felt fire burn intensely in the pit of his stomach.

"Merely Remus," came the whisper against his skin.

Pressing his fingers desperately into Remus' angular waist, Ron managed to get out, "Remus, I'd merely like a shag."

Remus laughed. "Forward lad," he murmured, though nimble fingers did begin to open the belt and fly of Ron's trousers. Ron moved his hands to his own waist, shoving the garments out of the way. Behind him, he heard the satisfying sound of fabric dropping quickly, and then there was something hard and hot pressed against the curve of his arse Saliva-slicked fingers made their way inside him, and Ron squirmed, pushing back against Remus' hand.

"It's been a while." Remus leant his forehead against Ron's shoulder, and Ron had to thrust against the post to keep himself from bucking against Remus' hand. And then the fingers were replaced by his cock and they were shagging, slow and steady and almost sodding sweet, and Ron didn't care about the way his head banged against the post or that he was in an ex-Death Eater manor or that the Healers at St Mungo's were obviously incompetent arses. All he cared about was being believed in, being something to someone, being shagged, feeling good for the first time in months.

And then he heard a loud shout – his own – before he slumped to the side of the bedpost, falling face-first against the mattress, sticky and warm and spent, with Remus atop him.

"Rest now," Ron heard Remus murmur before the world began to fade away.
Hours later, Ron awoke to an eyeful of blinding sun and a wrinkled house-elf with bat-like ears and nearly Quaffle-sized eyes staring at him.

"Good morning, Mister Ron Wheezy. Dobby is ready to be serving you. At your service, Ron Wheezy, and Ron Wheezy's most special friend."

Dobby bowed rather grandly, the tips of his ears brushing the floor.

"Oh, bloody hell."

Ron flung the duvet over his head; he'd forgotten in all the chaos that Harry'd arranged for Dobby to come to the manor to work. Hogwarts had closed down three years ago on account of all the attacks, though Dobby had remained behind to keep the castle 'spick and span and sparkling'. When Harry had sent him an Owl offering him a job, complete with full wages and days off, at the manor, Dobby had leapt at the opportunity. What other house-elf, Harry had reasoned, would know Malfoy Manor better than him?

Beside him, Remus folded down the duvet. When Ron propped himself up on his elbows, he saw Dobby preparing a steaming cuppa for Remus. It did smell awfully good.

"Thank you, Dobby," Remus said graciously, accepting the cup and saucer. "My name is Remus Lupin; I know we have never met but I have heard many good things about you."

Dobby beamed up at them, his large eyes positively brimming with tears. "Dobby is pleased to be hearing that, sir! Ron Wheezy, is Remus Lupin being here often? Dobby will be making things comfortable for him and all of Harry Potter's friends, sir!"

Holding the duvets about his chest in place with his arms, Ron awkwardly thrust one hand out to nab the second cuppa off Dobby's tray. "You'll have to ask Remus about that, Dobby," he said awkwardly, feeling the tips of his ears become hot.

After taking a generous sip, Remus set the cuppa down on Dobby's tray and slipped out from beneath the duvets. "Yes, I suppose I will be, Dobby. Ron will need my assistance with Bill, so I'll be popping in from time to time."

Dobby grinned toothily, his eyes lighting up. "Dobby is overjoyed to be hearing this, sir!"

"I can see that," Remus said kindly, and with a swish of his wand he was clothed once more. "Dobby, would you be so kind as to help Ron and Bill settle in? I have to return to St Mungo's and I would appreciate the help."

"Yes, sir, Mister Remus Lupin, sir!" Dobby cried, straightening importantly.

"You're in good hands, Ron."

"Thanks, Remus," he said dryly, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Go and send Hermione home, yeah?"

"I will." Remus gave him a small wave and exited, leaving Ron alone with a very eager house-elf.

"What can Dobby be doing for Misters Ron and Bill Wheezy?" Dobby asked, practically bursting with excitement as he made the tea service and tray disappear with one snap of his fingers.

Shimmying into his trousers, Ron ran a hand through his hair; he'd rather drive quill bits under his nails than spend the morning with Dobby. "Ah– You can–" Oh, bollocks, Bill would likely kill him. Unless Bill was too stuffed up and barmy from his cold. "You can help Bill put away his things and find something for brekkie that'll suit him. He's got a dead nasty cold."

"Dobby is knowing just the thing for dirty, naughty, nasty colds!" Dobby said, nodding emphatically.

"That's brilliant, Dobby," Ron said approvingly. "Why don't you, ah, have a go at that and I'll work on my own things."

"Yes, sir, Ron Wheezy, sir!" There was a cracking sound, and then Ron was left alone in the room with blissful, welcome silence.

It didn't take Ron long to unpack his trunks and make 'his' room a bit more homey and a little less Malfoy-ish. True, the Ministry had seized most of the assets and auctioned them off separately, but there were enough of the Malfoys' things throughout the manor to make Ron feel ill at ease. He spent a few hours learning the parts of the manor with which he was less familiar, making mental notes of where they should start cleaning in greater detail, where might be a good place to keep Bill when the moon was full....

After making himself another cuppa and having a few biscuits for lunch, Ron checked in with Bill, whom looked as though he wouldn't mind adding another hide to his wall, Ron reiterated his earlier promise of finding a proper potion at St Mungos. "'m leaving now and 'm not sure how long I'll be staying, so expect an owl later on with it."

Bill nodded, then waved Ron off. As Ron wandered down the corridor, heading for the Floo, Bill's voice carried behind him. "...-obby, why don't you show me how to clean those instruments of torture you told me were tucked away in Master Malfoy's den?"

Chuckling a little at that, Ron took a pinch of Floo powder and travelled to St Mungo's via the Visitor's Floo. He'd been away from Harry for far too long. Hopeful that Harry might have made some progress, Ron breezed quickly past the blonde witch in reception and soon found himself tucked inside the Seigfried Grunnion Ward at Harry's bedside once more. To Ron's great surprise, Hermione was still there, sitting on a rickety chair next to Remus.

"I thought you were going home," Ron said accusingly, squeezing behind their chairs so he could come round to Harry's other side.

"I was, though I could only sleep for a few hours. So, I came back," Hermione explained, eyes flickering over to Harry's form worriedly. His skin was dry and sallow and his chest moved up and down weakly, the breathing trumpets making high-pitched wheezing sounds on every inhalation.

"He hasn't any change," Remus said quietly, answering Ron's unspoken question.

"Bugger." Ron sat dejectedly in his chair.

Harry didn't make any progress that day or the next, and Ron was growing increasingly anxious on account of the impending full moon. While Bill didn't actually turn into a werewolf, he became extremely ill and violent, and Ron wasn't quite sure what to expect. He knew he would have to sit with his brother and protect him from himself, but Ron felt completely lost about the whole matter. Ron confessed as much to Remus when the two of them watched over Harry while Hermione rested at her parents' home, and Remus assured Ron there were things they could do prior to the full moon to prepare him for what lay ahead.

When Hermione returned, Remus accompanied Ron back to the manor. Bill welcomed him with a hearty clap on the back and an easy smile; the Pepper-Up Ron had sent from St Mungo's the other day had done the trick and got rid of his cold.

Remus quickly explained the nature of his visit and they set out to find a secure room in which to work. A room tucked away in the far-most western corner of the manor was the unanimous choice; it had once been a showroom for armor and weaponry and had thick impenetrable walls.

As Remus cast a few wards and charms on the room (just in case), Bill went on to explain the symptoms from which he suffered during each full moon.

Bill coughed. "So, Ronnie. About the..."

Fidgeting, forced himself to look his brother in the face. In his scarred face. "...the transformation thing," Ron finished. "Yeah?"

"It isn't exactly a transformation," Bill said slowly. "It's more like an illusion. At least, for me it is."

"Yeah, I know you don't..." Ron sneaked a quick look at Remus. "...get all wolfie, but you do, er, wolf out."

"I do," Bill nodded, his mouth turned down.

God, but Ron couldn't imagine what it must be like for Bill. Or Remus, for that matter.
Supposing he ought to ask, as he only had a vague idea of how things worked, Ron said slowly, "So what exactly happens, then?"

"I can't really explain it properly, but I'll try." One corner of Bill's mouth turned up and he idly picked at a loose thread on his cuff. "It's like I'm not me anymore, not really. This sense of...wildness...takes over, and I feel caged. Like I need to get out of my skin or something. That's why I've so many scars." He flipped up the hem of his t-shirt, revealing a flat stomach with several pale, silvery scars. "I hurt myself a lot because all I can think about is getting out. Getting out and...and being on guard. Being protective of myself. One time, right after we were married, Fleur-- I nearly broke her neck. She was trying to help, but she fumbled her wand and-- Oh, fucking hell--" His voice breaking, Bill turned away, his shoulders wracking.

Ron could barely stand to see his brother like that, though mercifully Remus drew his attention elsewhere.

"It's ready," he said solemnly.

"So," Ron said slowly, mouth scrunching to one side, "how're you going to help me do this, then? Won't this conjured moon affect you as well, Remus?"

"It won't affect me because I won't be in the room with you and Bill, Ron."

Ron's eyes widened. "You're going to– to leave me alone with that?" he asked, pointing at Bill, who turned around, looking more collected than he had a moment ago.

"Blimey, thanks mate," Bill said sardonically, giving Ron the two-fingered salute.

"Bugger off," Ron said, because it would make Bill feel less put-upon, and flicked Bill's fang earring with his thumb and forefinger.

"You can do this, Ron." Remus folded his hands and gave Ron a significant look. "I believe in you."

Fuck, there he went with pulling the 'I believe in you' card, Ron thought miserably.

"Yeah, you can do it, Ron," Bill said rather good-naturedly, though the sentiment didn't quite reach his eyes, which looked more worried than anything else. "Besides, I'm the one that's going to be suffering like hell. You'll be the sitter, that's all."

"That's all," Ron echoed, jumping nervously when the wooden case Remus Summoned suddenly appeared and fell to the floor with a clatter at his feet.

"Plenus Luminarium," Remus intoned, flicking his wand at the case. Light spilt out the keyhole, and both Remus and Bill backed up instinctively.

Grimacing, Bill pinned himself in the far corner of the room, while Remus spoke to Ron in a low voice. "I'll be going now, Ron, though I'll be right next door if you need me for anything, all right?"

Licking his lips nervously, Ron nodded. "Yeah. So I just...I just open the lid and then...?"

"Then the simulated moon will rise and–"

"And I'll get a bit wolfie," Bill chimed in humourlessly.

"There is that, yes." Remus nodded, then looked at Ron. "Right next door."

"Got it." Once the doors shut behind Remus, Ron cast a Locking Charm. After re-pocketing the wand, he ran his hand palm-flat over the case's lid. Beneath the grain, he could feel the faint pulses of magic straining to be released.

Swallowing hard, he met his brother's eyes. "Just do it, Ron," Bill whispered.

"Okay." With a great, shuddering gasp, Ron flipped open the lid of the trunk. A bright, glowing orb rose quickly, shining gloriously in the dim light of the room. Ron blinked, trying to adjust to the difference in lighting as quickly as possible.

In front of him, an ear-splitting howl sounded, and when Ron looked over at his brother, bile rose in his throat.

Bill's head had fallen back, long ginger hair spilling about his shoulders like some wild curtain. His hands clawed at his chest, nails scraping and tearing at his shirt.

Ron hated that he couldn't stop this, hated the sound of fabric ripping as Bill's nails cut through flimsy threads, hated the sightsmell of blood rising in the wake of Bill's nails on his chest.

Heart pounding and fear more than palpable, Ron risked life and limb to rush at his brother, wand brandished and aimed. Light and smoke billowed from the tip of it and there was that odd, disturbing static scent in the air, the scent of stunned flesh and stunted essence. Bill let out a piercing yip and fell to the ground, baying and scratching at the stone floor. Ron attempted to Stun him, though the charm did nothing but slow Bill down a minute bit. He tried another charm, and he'd thought it worked; Bill collapsed to the ground in a heap and stilled. Tension spreading out over every inch of his body, Ron stiffly approached, leaning over his brother's fallen form.

"Bill?" he whispered, pushing fringe out of his eyes. Ron nudged him with his foot and Bill rolled over, splaying out on his back. "Oi, you in–"

With a great roar, all of Bill's limbs burst upward, hands latching onto Ron's shoulders while Bill's legs wrapped around Ron's calves, holding him in place as Bill's arms yanked him down.
"Bloody fucking–"

Bill's head lolled side to side madly, teeth gnashing, absolutely no recognition whatsoever in his eyes, and Ron was sure this was the bleeding end. His own brother was going to fucking eat him and there was no sodding way he'd be able to alert Remus next door in time–

His wrist pivoted awkwardly so he could jab the end of his wand in his brother's gut. "Petricifus Totalus," Ron panted, and then everything stopped. Bill went rigid beneath him and Ron rolled off him, gasping for breath as he squinted against the psuedo-moon's harsh light. Beside him, Bill was motionless save for his eyes, which were wild and wide. Though he knew he shouldn't, Ron ended the charms in the room with a loud cry of "Finite Incantatum!". As if he'd used a larger Put-Outer, the ball of light that had been hanging just below the ceiling flew back into the box and the lid clanked shut. Bill let out a shuddering gasp and then stilled again; upon inspection, Ron discovered his brother had passed out from exhaustion.

And then Ron laughed. "Fucking frightful, that was," he said to himself amid the laughter, which soon gave over to a great wracking cough and then hysterical sobs which he stifled by cramming his fist into his mouth.

**********

Because of Remus' help beforehand (the pseudo-full moon exercise and then later taking the time to answer Ron's questions) and Hermione's encouragement, Ron managed to get through his first full moon with Bill much better than he would have otherwise Honestly, the days leading up to it and the evening of the big event itself were much easier to bear than visiting Harry in St Mungo's. He had still not shown any signs of improvement. If anything, his condition was worsening, though the Healers would not say as much. His complexion became more sallow by the day, just as his features became thinner and narrower. Every time Ron and Hermione's shifts overlapped, they read countless books on the brain and comas and magical catastrophes but had yet to come up with a theory or even a lead.

More often than not, Ron would return to the Manor at a late hour, and Bill would be entertaining Remus. Remus said he was there to help clean up the manor and to keep an eye on Bill, but Ron suspected there were other reasons for his prolonged visits. He wouldn't say so to Bill or to Remus, but it was nice to see the two of them getting on well, considering the multiple similarities in their lives. Merlin knew they could both use a friend. However pleased he was about Remus and Bill's burgeoning friendship, an uncharitable, selfish part of him was a wee bit jealous at the easy nature between them, though he vowed to himself that he wouldn't dwell on that rot; there were more important things on which to expend his energies.

The weather began to get a bit milder, and Ron decided he would focus his cleaning efforts on the grounds. He traded shifts with Hermione so he could be at the manor during the morning and afternoons and spent that time pruning and taking care of the lawn. Every so often, however, he would get the distinct feeling that he was being watched or that something was threatening one of the wards Bill had placed around the estate lines. When Ron confided this to Remus and Bill over dinner one evening, Bill simply shook his head and laughed. "There are all manner of animals mucking about, Ronnie boy," he said, propping his boots up on the table and leaning back with a jovial air about him. "I imagine their beady little eyes think your scrawny arse is intruding on their territory."

"My arse isn't scrawy," Ron snapped, looking at Remus for confirmation. Remus apparently had decided at that moment to find the chandelier fascinating and said nothing.

Bill snorted. "Whatever you say, little brother."

Ron became completely obsessed with his arse that day, bothering Hermione for hours as to whether or not she thought his arse was scrawny. At one point she told him she had not and would not ever discuss his bum with anyone, sounding quite put out about the whole thing. Ron informed her that discussing the state of his arse was penance for spending more of her time at St Mungo's with him on his shift instead of resting at her parents' house as she was supposed to have been doing. That was all it took to make her leave in a huff for her mum and dad's.

Ron was still laughing about her huffy exit when she returned to relieve him later that evening. He couldn't think on much else besides her pinched mouth and the horrified gleam in her eyes; Ron chuckled all the way back to the manor. Deciding to take a stroll around the grounds to work off some pent up energy, Ron stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robes and circled to the east side of the estate.

As he walked past a lush willow tree, movement behind the Malfoy family's mausoleum caught his eye. Wand out and at the ready, he crossed to the large granite building, careful not to make a sound. Rounding the corner, Ron discovered a ghost, or someone whom should have been a ghost.

"You're dead," Ron said, staring at what had to be an apparition or a delusional episode as a result of the crap sandwich he'd had in St Mungo's tea room.

"Not particularly," sneered Draco Malfoy. "Now get the fuck off my property, Weasel."

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