The Healer- A Draco Malfoy Fanfiction

Chapter 38

On Saturday March 1st at approximately 9:45 AM, Ron Weasley was poisoned.

Madam Pomfrey sent a patronus to where I was studying in the library, alerting me that there was an emergency in the Hospital Wing that required my help. I hurriedly gathered my things and rushed out while students who overheard the message whispered about what the 'urgent situation' could be.

A tall, thin boy with black hair and glasses was standing outside of the Medical Wing looking distraught. I recognized him immediately as Harry Potter, the school celebrity that was finally filling out his wiry frame with Quidditch muscle. I didn't have time to chat with him, but he forced me to stop by placing himself between me and the door.

"You can't go in there," Harry said, his voice sharp and irritated.

I blinked, glaring at the dark-haired boy who was blocking my way. "I work here."

"My best friend's in there," Harry snapped protectively. He was perhaps too nice to say it, but I could infer by his tone that my connection to Draco Malfoy was why he was being so obstinate.

Other people may be stricken by Harry Potter's presence, but I had no patience for people who were standing between me and my healing. "Madam Pomfrey requested me specifically," I said, trying to keep my voice from rising, "If you want your friend to get better, you'll let me in so I can help."

Harry pursed his lips, still not moving out of the way.

My patience had run out. I spat, "I know my relationship with Draco rubs you the wrong way, but it has nothing to do with my intention to heal people. So get over your prejudice and let me do my job."

I was perhaps a bit too mean with my choice of words; but that seemed to work on Harry. As soon as he moved to the side, I burst through the Hospital Wing doors.

"Erica, fetch the essence of rue!" Madam Pomfrey yelled the second I entered. She was crouched over a hospital bed where a red-haired Ron Weasley lay slightly convulsing.

I didn't bother with taking off my scarf and coat before setting to work. Harry Potter and his friends always seemed to find themselves in the middle of trouble so it didn't surprise me that Ron Weasley had somehow gotten himself injured.

As I hurriedly uncorked the vial of medicine, I asked, "How big of a dose?"

"Just bring all of it, dear, the boy's been poisoned."

My hearing garbled for a second, a high-pitched noise ringing in my right ear- but I forbid my hands to stop moving.

"P-poisoned?" I stammered.

"He's ingested something quite horrible- would have been instantly lethal, had Mister Potter not given him a bezoar."

My blood chilled so instantly I thought I was going to freeze in place. But thankfully, my healer training took over, allowing me to cross the room and hand Madam Pomfrey the vial. Ron's eyes were tightly shut, enduring the convulsions that shook his whole body. It was painful to watch, but I couldn't look away.

There's no way that the poison Ron took was the same poison Draco had planted. It couldn't be. It must have been a completely separate lethal poison-

Madam Pomfrey quickly portioned the essence of rue into the measuring spoon, forcing it into Ron's trembling mouth, then repeating the process three times until his body finally stilled to small quivers. Ron stabilized into a groaning sleep state, his chest still heaving up and down.

Madam Pomfrey watched Ron with tight lips. She looked very distressed.

"How did this happen?" I asked breathily.