"You're sure that you're going to be all right?"
Harry was biting his lip, and he couldn't seem to stop. Mrs. Malfoy reached out and gently healed his lip, and Harry nodded and focused on Mr. Malfoy, who was lying back on a white gurney in St. Mungo's. Harry couldn't really look at his father's outstretched arm with the Dark Mark, so he focused on his face.
"Yes, I will be," Mr. Malfoy said gently. "I won't hide the truth from you, boys. This is going to be a long and painful procedure. But Healers have advanced in their knowledge a great deal in the last few years, and, well, limb regrowth is available to those who can afford it."
Harry thought he should probably be worried about the poor people who couldn't afford it, but just at the moment, the thought flickered and died on the edges of his mind. He kept looking at Mr. Malfoy as the Healers came out and checked him over, weaving their wands in diagnostic magic that made no sense to Harry.
"We're ready to take you back into the ritual surgery ward, Mr. Malfoy," one of the Healers, a tall woman with red braided hair, said at last.
"Why does he have to go to a ritual surgery ward?"
Draco's voice was very small and very tight. Harry reached over and held his brother's hand. Draco grabbed on and squeezed and squeezed.
"Because we don't know exactly what will happen when we begin to amputate his left arm, young Mr. Malfoy," the red-haired Healer said gently. "As far as we know, this is the first procedure of its kind to remove the Dark Mark. There might be reasons why it's never happened before. The Mark might react violently. Others who have tried it might have died. We'll be in a secure space where the violence of the Mark's magic, if any, will be contained, and we can heal your father of any wounds he receives immediately." She checked a large golden watch hanging from her robe and nodded. "We should move him now, or we'll lose the favorable conjunction of the stars tonight."
Harry held onto Draco's hand, and felt Mother's arm come around his shoulders, as the gurney levitated into the air and the Healers walked around it, back behind a white wall that shimmered with inlaid silver lines. Harry released a shaky breath. He had no idea what was going to happen, and that scared him.
And part of him felt selfish. Mr. Malfoy would never even have considered doing this if not for Harry and their fears that Voldemort would target him. No matter what anyone said about him being under the Imperius in his Death Eater days—the Healers certainly believed it, or they would have refused to treat him—Harry knew he hadn't been.
But he remembered the way Mrs. Malfoy had reacted when Sirius had nearly kidnapped him again. Mr. Malfoy would do anything to defend him, too.
"Come, boys," Mrs. Malfoy whispered, and escorted them from the room to the waiting area where they would have to stay for a few hours.
Harry leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Draco was pacing in circles until Mother snapped at him and made him sit down. Harry tried to listen for any sounds of the surgery, although he knew he wouldn't be able to hear it behind the wards.
Somewhere in there, after what felt like hours of waiting and sick hoping, he fell asleep.
Pain like he'd never felt woke him, screaming.
"Henry! Henry!"
Harry could hear his mother and his brother, frantic, but he couldn't stop screaming. And he couldn't stop clawing at his forehead, where the pain was flowing from.
There was blood on his fingers by the time that Mrs. Malfoy bound Harry's hands to the arms of the chair. He sobbed and writhed, and heard Draco shouting, "Fix him! Fix him!"
Then, abruptly, the pain stopped.
Harry sagged back in his chair, breathing hoarsely, and felt Mrs. Malfoy crouch down next to him. She cast some spells which looked like the diagnostics the Healers had used on Mr. Malfoy, and then she conjured a glass of ice water for his throat, tipping it slowly for him. Harry swallowed and swallowed. He couldn't move his arms, which were still bound to the chair.
"Sorry about that, dear one," Mrs. Malfoy whispered, and cast the spell that released his arms. Then she gathered him close and rocked him. Harry put his chin on her shoulder and tried to think past his trembling and the blinding pain.
"What happened?" Draco demanded, dancing around them. "What happened?"
"Draco, hush," Mrs. Malfoy snapped, in a tone Harry had never heard from her before. It worked, though, since Draco hushed. Mrs. Malfoy leaned back and carefully brushed Harry's hair out of his eyes. She hissed.
"What?" Harry whispered, although he thought he knew. The pain had come from his scar, after all.
"There's blood on your scar," Mrs. Malfoy said quietly. "And I don't think all of it is just from where you clawed at it." She reached up and wiped it away. Harry flinched despite himself, but her gentle touch didn't cause any more pain. He swallowed as he thought about the agony he'd endured.
"Mrs. Malfoy? Are you all right? We thought we heard screaming."
Draco promptly moved in front of Harry, and Mrs. Malfoy flowed to her feet, shielding him with her body. "My son had a terrible nightmare," she said gravely. "But what about Lucius? Is he—" She took a ragged breath, and Harry suddenly wondered how worried she had been. He hadn't really thought about it.
Harry couldn't see around his twin to get a glimpse of the Healer's face, but he heard the smile in her voice. "The Mark is gone, Mrs. Malfoy. The amputation was successful. We'll have Mr. Malfoy rest for a month before we start the limb regrowth. But I promise you, I don't see any reason that he shouldn't regain full function in his left arm."
Mrs. Malfoy shuddered a little, and Harry thought she might cry if there weren't so many people there. "Thank you," she whispered.
The Healer talked with her a little more, while Harry leaned against Draco. Draco touched his shoulder and whispered, "What was that, Henry?"
Harry shook his head. "I have no idea."
But part of him was wondering exactly when Father's arm had been amputated, if someone had kept the records of that.
And if it would coincide with the time he'd started screaming.
How alive was the Mark? How alive is my scar? How are they connected?
....
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