Chapter 11
They made it to Andromeda’s room, eventually. King Harry sat on Andromeda’s bed so he could hold her hands while he gave her the good news. Angie and Narcissa stood a respectful distance away, but only just. In truth they were hovering. Draco had flopped down on a reading chair across the room.
King Harry was so happy Andromeda was well. He insisted she still take the medicine, since dragon pox was known to rebound forcefully just when you thought you were out of the woods. King Harry was bringing the cure to all his friends he knew were sick. Of course there was enough for Teddy.
“And the other children?” Draco asked, too aware his own vial had run out and the little ones weren’t out of the woods.
The king glanced up, realizing for the first time Draco was still there. “Um, yes, of course,” the king said, clearly not having considered it.
Draco leveled him the most unimpressed of looks. “And their parents?” he asked, more to be cruel than anything.
The king narrowed his eyes at Draco's prodding. “We must conserve our limited supply of the medicine,” he non-answered.
Draco hmmed a little and squeezed the teddy bear he knew he should put down. “What a shame, that some of the children will just have to live on as orphans.”
The king almost stood up in anger, but Andromeda pulled on his hand to keep him seated. Andromeda had not lost her determination due to sickness. Her face was firm, even marred by a sickly pallor. “Anyone less well than me will have medicine before I do. If supply is low, they’ll get my share.”
Of course the king wouldn’t have that. He rushed to assure her there was plenty of medicine to go around. Maybe there always had been, but the request from Andromeda just sounded more reasonable than Draco’s approach. With his commitment locked in, Andromeda kissed King Harry on the cheek and politely sent the younger folk away so she could get some sleep.
In the hallway, King Harry looked at Angie and Draco before handing the vial of medicine to Angie. “This nozzle here is portioned to measure out just enough medicine per person. You should give each person that exact amount.”
Draco waited a beat for Harry to expand before he realized it wouldn’t happen. Draco added for him, “Except for the children. You’ll want to give them less.”
The king glowered at Draco, but he stopped to think about Draco’s words before agreeing. “Yeah, you should give them less. I didn’t ask Xeno the amount for children.”
Draco blinked, storing away the knowledge that Xeno was responsible for this medicine. “I wouldn’t give them more than a drop myself, if there’s any doubt about it. Of course, your majesty could inquire with Baron Lovegrove and send us a letter if you hear differently.”
“Certainly,” King Harry said through clenched teeth. “What a fine idea.” He seemed angry that Draco had a fine idea. Then again to Angie, “I mixed it in with tea and honey, to mask the awful flavor.”
“Of course, you don’t give babies honey,” Draco murmured, needling the king further for no reason since Angie knew how to care for children. Draco was just tired, and angry, perhaps miserable, and he wanted to take it out on someone else.
The king finally snapped and twirled to glare at Draco. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Draco smiled gleefully and stared back, letting the king’s frustration simmer.
A much wiser and kinder Angie cleared her throat. “It can cause botulism, which, um, can be toxic in infants. No worry, though, we can mix it in with milk.”
The king shook his head to clear it, then forced himself to turn away from Draco and smile at the servant. “Wonderful, thank you… I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”
Angie blushed, then introduced herself as one of the maids with an unpracticed courtesy.
“I imagine we should call you the housekeeper now,” Draco suggested.
King Harry glanced back at him again, now confused. “I thought Fannie…” his voice trailed off as he realized what must have happened. Draco took some satisfaction in seeing the king look stricken by the news, as if maybe the king finally had some understanding of what they had experienced as a household. What Draco had been living with.
Only, when Draco looked at Angie, she looked stricken, too, and Draco realized his needling of the king had missed its mark completely. “I’m sorry, Angie, that was out of line,” Draco said, ducking his head in shame.
Angie recovered impressively fast, but did not look at Draco when she spoke again. “If it pleases your majesty, can we meet with Mr. Kreacher before you leave for your next stop? He will want to hear the instructions from you, if you can spare us the time.”
Draco knew he was unwelcome and didn’t follow.
The next weeks were hard, because the tonic didn’t make everyone better overnight. Draco still worked hard to tend to his patients, and despite new hope he slept poorly. Angie worked alongside him, always cordial, but there were no more silent conversations exchanged with eye contact alone. They barely talked beyond coordinating logistics. Angie’s friends began to get better, and she spent her time talking with them. Listening to their shared references and inside jokes that Draco couldn’t understand was not unlike sitting in on conversations with Andromeda and all her friends that didn’t like Draco.
Draco compensated for the loneliness crawling inside him with boisterous games with the children who now had more energy than their guardians, so that all that needed it could play or rest.
October ended, and the disease finally left them. Draco watched reunions all around him, as friends and families came together to celebrate and cry. The young men dug holes to bury the bodies and Andromeda herself led the burial ceremony. Narcissa and Draco attended. Two ghosts unseen by and unconnected to the crowd.
The household was left to pick up the pieces. Martha’s parents left after, returning to the north and their family now that their dreams for a future here were tarnished by tragedy. With them and Fannie gone, the work left for everyone else felt oppressive. Thankfully, the household had stores of food to last through the winter, but the fall and winter crops had barely been planted, the other farm land had not been prepped for the cold season and following spring. Kreacher had done his best to maintain the outer buildings, but only had time to make sure eggs didn’t spoil in the chicken coops and no vermin got in to murder their animals. Each animal coup and barn smelled like literal shit, so poorly had it been tended to. Two more servants were hired away by wealthier households in need of new hands, their own staff having fallen to the pox.
So Draco went outside to the barn and began to shovel the horse shit himself. Poor, over-extended Doyle came into the barn late in the day, trying to finish up whatever essential tasks he couldn’t skip, and caught Draco sweating through his clothes as he struggled with the manual labor. Draco was such a ponce, he knew he would have quit if Doyle so much as joked about finding Draco there. Doyle didn’t. He just looked so relieved. Draco took pity and had Doyle teach him the rest of the barn-based chores and then volunteered to do those as well in the future.
Draco left the manor in the morning to see Andromeda and Narcissa working together to harvest whatever they could from the leafy greens that could grow through the fall, and whatever produce they eked out of the modest greenhouse. Every person chose to contribute. The Tonks manor did its best to rebuild, even as news came from the outer world that the sickness was still spreading. The Tonks had gotten it early, and it had not run its course.
So it continued, through the end of fall, into Christmastime, then into the New Year.
January ended with Andromeda pulling Draco aside for a favor. Draco almost said no, but then Andromeda explained, “Angie said you were so good with the children.”
Draco hung his head and could not refuse.
They walked together to the drawing room. There was the king himself, rocking from foot to foot with nervous energy. “Harry, dear, I’ve found a solution. Draco has agreed to go and care for Percy’s family.”
The king visibly winced at the suggestion. “Andromeda, are you sure? There must be someone else.”
Draco had never seen Andromeda look at the king with disapproval. He had only seen the look she gave King Henry as one Andromeda had directed so many times at Draco himself. “I am thankful for Draco’s generous offer,” she said with words of steel. “We are hard pressed to spare him, and only do so because the need is great.”
King Harry winced again, this time due to the chastisement. He huffed a sigh. “Thank you, Andromeda, for your generosity.” It was noted that he only expressed appreciation to Andromeda, but she settled simply for him agreeing to the plan.
With the decision made, the king insisted they leave at once. Once out of Andromeda’s sight he gave up any pretense of civility. He scowled at Draco and rejected outright the request that Draco first retrieve a few belongings or have time to change out of his workman’s clothes. The equinox ball felt like a lifetime ago now, but even the distant memory still stung harshly. It rankled deep inside Draco how the king treated him now, compared to the freedom of being unknown that one regretful night.
“Percy will have anything you might need,” the king snapped. Draco was taller, but had to expand his strides to keep up with the king’s rapid pace.
“Who is this Percy, anyway?”
The king didn’t look back as he said, “Percy Weasley, you’ve met him.” Draco didn’t remember doing so but he never had bothered to track the red-headed offspring.
“A Weasley? If he needs help why hasn’t he just returned to the family home. Aren’t they the sort to prefer that, all thick as thieves?” Draco shouted after the king, who was now outdoors and striding to an open carriage.
“Everyone’s strung thin,” was the brief response.
Draco blenched. “How can the Weasley’s be too thin to care for one of their own? Do they hate this son? Is he the black sheep of the family?”
The King dropped the reins he’d been gathering and whirled to glare at Draco, finally facing him head on. “Shut your damn mouth if you know what’s good for you.”
Draco stopped in his tracks as well, firsting his hands on his hips to glare back. “It’s not an unreasonable question, your majesty.” he said, nearly mocking. He couldn’t tell the king that he knew this wasn’t how he treated everyone. Draco just held a special place in the king’s heart as one of the most despised. He couldn't stop his rancor from coming out. “I just want to know, the Weasleys are like family to you, what sort of family member do you loathe enough to send me of all people to play nurse to.”
The king’s anger made his entire face red. “If you’re not willing to assist, tell me now and be on your way. I won’t stand for this rubbish.”
“Of course I’m going to help him,” Draco spat out. “I always help out. I’m the most helpful fucking bloke in your kingdom! You despise and distrust me anyway, but I suppose this fellow matters so little you don’t mind me being the one to rely upon.”
For a moment Draco thought the king would raise one of his tightly clenched fists and finally pummel Draco for his insolence. He held his entire body tight with rage, his eyes bright as emerald fire. “Get in or begone,” he growled through clenched teeth. Then he climbed up to the front perch of the carriage. Draco hardly had time to scramble in before the king shouted, “Haw!” and the horses began driving away.