Waking Up

Harry Potter was dead.

…

…

No. No, that wasn't correct. He was still standing….

…

Harry Potter was… dying? 

…

…

No, no that still didn’t seem right either. He was still talking…

…

Harry Potter was… seriously injured… or maimed? 

…

Or perhaps he had decided to go swimming in a pool of blood?

Which hardly made any sense, but it was exactly what he looked like; because Harry Potter was literally covered in blood. Why was he always covered in blood?

It was not the first time Hermione Granger had seen her best friend adorned in tattered Auror robes and covered in blood. It was also not the first time she had seen him seconds after facing down death… yet something seemed different about this time. Something that made her freeze, which was highly unusual for her.

She had always processed terror differently than others. For example: the emotion, fear, was routed to her prefrontal cortex instead of letting the more primitive parts of her brain do the choice-making. Which basically meant it didn’t inflict a paralyzing reaction like it did for so many others. Instead, her mind had a habit of slowing things down. Or perhaps it was speeding her up, whereas everything else around her functioned at the normal capacity. 

Whatever it was, under intense situations that would otherwise cause someone to wet themselves and leave them shaking in their dragon-hide boots, Hermione found herself thinking clearer, quicker, and more concisely. She was more alert, adept, and creative at solving problems. It was one of the main reasons she made such a good healer. Well, that and she didn’t have an aversion to blood. Nor did she have any phobias or a weak stomach. Which was good considering the amount of pus, rashes, phlegm, rotten body parts, bad breath, and the all-around grossness she was exposed to on the daily. 

Yet the scene before her had made her pause, even just for a second.

Harry stood in the middle of the receiving area of St. Mungo’s Emergency Department as chaos erupted around him. Roughly a dozen or so other Aurors were scattered about in varying stages of disheveledness and grime-covered robes, they were suffering from different levels of afflictions and injuries with new ones popping in every few seconds— but her eyes remained on Harry who seemed to have suffered the worst of the lot.

At least at first glance.

He had morbidly joked once, a few years back, that their new robes were a dark maroon not so they could blend in at night, but so they wouldn’t show the blood if they were ever struck while in combat. She had not found it funny. Not that it helped him at this point anyways. He could have been wearing the blackest of robes and she still would have been able to tell he was soaked in blood. 

It coated his hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. His glasses were askew, one lens cracked, the other smeared with blood. Strands of his usually messy black hair were plastered to his forehead by sweat and dried blood. There was a deep gash on his cheek that oozed, albeit sluggishly, adding to the grotesque mask of crimson on his face. His robes were saturated to the point he was leaving a gruesome trail behind him every time he moved, as though he was literally raining blood. Which, as one might imagine, was a very startling state to find one's best friend in.

His eyes, which were usually a brilliant and kind green, were wide and glassy as they darted around the room with a desperate urgency as he spoke. He was trying to control the scene around him while simultaneously ignoring those who were actually qualified to handle the present situation. Like the two healers and an intern that were trying to assess his condition. He kept swatting them away, his movements were jerky and frantic, as if he couldn’t afford the time it would take to allow help for himself. 

He was team lead, and she could understand his worry and concern for them, but now hardly seemed like the time to be stoic. “No, stop, I’m fine,” she heard him say, his voice rough and strained as he swatted another wand away from his face as he once again refused treatment. 

“Moore, where’s Jacobs?” He shouted the question, making sure his scratchy voice was able to be heard over the chaos. 

“Haven’t seen him sir.” Moore answered.  

Someone bumped into her shoulder from behind as they rushed past her, jolting her out of her momentary stupor. The impact sent a wave of clarity through her, and she snapped into action. Her fear was pushed down, replaced by the sharp, clear focus that had always served her well in a crisis.

She had one goal then, to get to Harry before he hurt himself or someone else.

Also to delegate the other Healers appropriately and get the injured out of the reception area and into rooms. So… she had two goals really. But the latter helped with the former.

She was a highly capable witch after all. A highly capable witch who also happened to be a healer, and there were plenty of injured that needed tending. She was not about to skirt her duties just because her best friend showed up covered head to toe in blood… no matter how badly she wanted to. Besides, her goal could still remain the same. She could get to Harry and help out others along the way. 

A flick of her wand and a puddle of mud was cleaned up. A swish in the direction of a frantic auror with a mild stun so they could be examined by the nearest healer. It was child’s play for her really. As was the two broken noses, the knee scrape that hardly warranted its own healer or a drop of very expensive dittany the giant baby was requesting. Not to mention the conjuring of wet rags for cleaning wounds, dirt, and blood. She also managed to throw up at least six diagnostic charms on those she passed so the next healer in queue would find their target area quicker. Nothing seemed life threatening, thankfully, except for possibly whatever was going on with Harry…

Her focus kept drifting back to him. 

It was an awful lot of blood… 

She had called out for him, her voice was sharp and cut through the cacophony of the emergency room, but it didn’t reach him. Or if it had, he hadn’t registered it. 

“Harrison, any word from Jacobs?” he asked, his gaze was wild, almost feral, as he shoved another healer away. “’s not mine. Get off!”

Logically she knew it wasn’t all his blood—of course it wasn’t. There was too much of it for him to still be conscious, let alone standing and of sound mind. Though one could argue he wasn’t exactly of sound mind at present.

Another series of loud cracks erupted around them once more, new Aurors bringing with them injured witches and wizards collapsing onto the floor, some screaming in pain. The chaos around them seemed unrelenting and the smell of blood, sweat, and fear was almost overwhelming. Hermione’s mind raced as she scanned the room, her eyes darting from one injured Auror to the next, searching for familiar faces, injuries that couldn’t wait, and things she could fix with a simple wave of her wand. Her hands moved with practiced precision, casting diagnostic spells and directing the medical staff appropriately.

“Check on the new arrivals! Get the critically injured stabilized first!" she snapped at two healers, inept even on their good days, but drastic times called for drastic measures. 

Turning her focus on an intern, one who was clearly scared out of his wits, she said "We need more help here, go get some! If you don’t know how to send a patronus, then I suggest you run." He stuttered his response before taking off in a run. 

She allowed herself to watch him for no more than three seconds before her eyes were sweeping over the newcomers once again. She wasn’t fully familiar with Harry’s whole team, but she knew a decent amount of them and was slowly ticking them off her mental list to assure no one was missing. Making a mental list and categorizing injuries as she made her way to Harry. She healed those she could as she passed, ticking off the names and faces from the list. She couldn’t be sure, but there were at least four names on her list she hadn’t seen yet, one of them being Jacobs, who Harry kept asking for, and another was Malfoy’s. 

Which was odd. 

He was normally attached to Harry’s hip. At first it had been because they were partners, then it was because they were friends. He was skilled in a fight, which was clearly something that had happened, so it was strange not seeing him beside Harry barking out counter orders of his own. But just because she hadn’t seen him yet didn’t mean he was injured. It was just as likely that he was wherever all the injured keep apparating from. Which would make sense to have one lead stay behind to do damage control while the other apparate to safety with the wounded. Besides, Malfoy only ever seemed to get hurt when he was stupidly taking a curse meant for Harry instead of just throwing up a simple protego. Though if Harry would use more than expelliarmus then perhaps Malfoy would act a little less rashly in turn. 

But that was a topic for another time, right now she needed to get Harry who was still ignoring her calls. His voice growing more hoarse by the second as he still tried to reign in the chaos as though he wasn’t standing in the middle of her Emergency Department surrounded by blood and… she was pretty sure she vanished some vomit back there.

Lucky for her– and for him as it saved him from her wrath– she was only a few steps away now. Her attention first went to Rory Ramsey who was still trying to heal Harry despite his best efforts at keeping everyone away from him. Rory was competent for an intern, if not a tad stubborn, but he listened and acknowledged Hermione’s new orders without a scoff or a moan of discontent. In fact, he looked a bit relieved to no longer be responsible for the giant git dropping blood all over their emergency department and denying any sort of care and treatment. 

"Harry." when he didn’t respond, again, she reached out and grabbed his arm, giving it a hard tug and forcing him to look at her. It was impossible to ignore her now, and she silently dared him to try. 

Which he didn’t. 

“Can you please stop long enough for me to run a few diagnostic spells?” She asked. 

He blinked down at her in something akin to shock. She wasn’t sure why, but didn’t have time to ask. She had other things to do, like making sure he didn’t pass out. It wasn’t likely, she couldn’t see any concerning injuries on him, not like the bloke missing three fingers or the witch who appeared to be short one leg, or any of the other various missing body parts that Rory was now trying to hunt down so that they could be reattached.

After what felt like an eternity, but was only really three seconds, he said one word. It was her name, spoken in the form of a question and not in a ‘Hermione do you have the answer to this’ sort of way either. No, it was more like ‘Hermione, how is it that you are here?’ disbelieving sort of way that made her rather concerned. 

Of course she was there. It was her bloody hospital after all… 

Okay, so it wasn’t hers per se, but it might as well have been. She was, after all, the Head of Medicine and Diagnostic Development, the Emergency and Dark-art Exposure Medical Director, and Chief Healer. So of course she was there. 

It was not a good sign, perhaps indicative of head trauma? She discreetly started casting diagnostic spells, hoping not to draw too much attention to the magical writings floating in the air next to him, afraid of his reaction if he noticed it. 

“What are you doing here?” He finally gasped, shaking his head causing her diagnostic spell to flutter and spin about in an attempt to hide itself from him, making it almost impossible to read.

Definitely not a good sign. 

She needed him to stop, to calm down, but before she could ask him to do such he spoke. “You– you should be helping the others.” He said, always the self-sacrifice. 

“I– I’m fine Hermione.” He shook his head, looking more dazed now then he had before, his eyes scanning the mass crowd in a more frantic like manner, his fingers tapping against his leg in an odd sort of pattern, yet one she knew well as she had taught it to him years ago. He was taking count of something, likely his team members. 

“Harry Potter, my concern right now is you.” She gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I’m fine.” he repeated, more to himself this time, his fingers diligently ticking against his leg as his eyes continued to dart around. 

"Harry, please," she pleaded, stepping in front of him and gently grabbing his arm, hoping to recapture his attention. "You need to let us help you. I can't lose you, and I can't think properly if I'm worried I might." which was true. 

Harry's eyes met hers, desperation and fear evident. For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flicking around the room once more. Finally, he gave a small nod.

Hermione wasted no time, her wand moving in quick, precise motions as she recast diagnostic spells on him. With a practiced flick of her wrist she pulled out a rather alarming amount of dark ooze from his cheek wound, confirming with her spells that all dark magic was removed before healing up the mark. He wouldn’t even have a scar. At least, not a new one. 

Aside from that, he seemed relatively unharmed—not to the point that warranted so much blood. His bottom left earlobe was torn off and would need to be reattached with a few magical stitches, but she stopped it from continuing to bleed down the side of his head for now. He had a fractured wrist, which she fixed right away, and two broken ribs that would be a tad trickier but nothing some potions couldn’t cure along with a long night’s rest.

He had subluxated a kneecap that would require him to attend a week’s worth of therapy to properly set and heal. The rest were some scrapes and bruises, not to mention his robes, which took three cleaning charms just to stop the rainfall of blood that was happening. They would need a proper wash later. But there was no residual dark magic attached to him.

At least not to his person. There were some scorch marks, some dark wisps, and something foul and pungent clinging to different parts of his robes, but those too would likely be cleaned up with a good wash. She was just about done, after only a minute or two of actual work on him, when he finally spoke again.

“He’s okay then? You healed him already?”

She looked up at him, canceling out her diagnostic charms to see him better. His shoulders slumped a little, his stance was more relaxed, but he was still a startling sight to look at. She conjured up a wet washcloth and held it out for him. When he didn’t take it, she started scrubbing at the drying blood herself, starting with his hands, which he didn’t object to.

She had to conjure up another wet cloth for his face, the first one just smearing more than it was helping. Ignoring him when he said her name, and desperately trying not to bombard him with questions about whose or what’s blood was covering his person, or what in the actual fuck had happened.

“Hermione?” He reached up, stilling her hand, his voice a breathy whisper–a plea almost. “Is he okay? Did he live?” 

Having no idea who he was talking about, her mind instantly started replaying all the diagnostic spells she cast and the visual triage she had done as she made her way across the room. No one had seemed dire, not to the extent of causing him so much worry. Yet a part of her feared she was missing something. Something important. She could have lied, of course, but she didn’t lie to Harry. She couldn’t.

Before she could decide how she was going to answer, he added, “I was worried he– I was– fuck I thought Draco was a goner for sure.”

Hermione stilled for only a millisecond, unsure how to respond and trying to ignore the stone that instantly settled in her gut at his words. She conjured yet another wet washcloth and continued with the manual cleaning of his face instead of allowing herself to focus on the possibility of Malfoy being hurt somewhere without the medical attention Harry so desperately thought he needed. It didn’t do her any good to dwell on it, she could only help those in front of her. 

“I didn’t think anyone could live through that, but you’re here now, so he must have.” He breathed out a relaxing sounding sigh, shifting on his feet and letting some of the stress from the day ease out of him. “I thought the stupid blighter was bitten.” He softly chuckled to himself. “Could have sworn he was, but he wasn’t, was he?” His mumbled question felt as though it had been shot through her. It rumbled and echoed, and gave her pause. 

“Bitten?” She asked, trying to stop her panic, reminding herself that she didn’t panic, it wasn’t who she was. She didn’t have panic attacks. She didn’t have the luxury of freezing up or stopping her work. Especially not now that Harry’s adrenaline was wearing and the likelihood of him remaining conscious for much longer was slim. 

She could see it in him, and in anticipation she conjured a chair for him to sit just seconds before his knees buckled and his legs gave out. He winced as he crashed down into the chair but didn’t complain. He did however start muttering and mumbling words that sorta formed sentences if she filled in the blanks. 

The word ‘fine’ was repeated multiple times, mostly in the form of him assuring her he was fine. There was something about blood and Chewbacca (?) … then something about Draco? Draco attacked Chewbacca? She didn’t quite catch the rest and she was sure it wouldn’t have made any sense even if she had. 

“Shhh, it’s okay Harry. You’re okay.” she whispered as she finished cleaning the last bit of blood off of his nose. His eyes were starting to droop with exhaustion and his mutterings had stopped.

“I know, Hermione.” he rested his head against the back of the chair, his eyes slowly blinking as though the lids were too heavy to keep open any longer. She would ask one of the healers to get him to a room to rest here soon. 

“I’m always okay when you’re around. Draco too.” his eyes didn’t open again. “I’d likely be dead if not for his quick thinking.” He shifted, getting more comfortable. “That’s why I asked Jacobs to get him to you. I was so worried he was going to die out there.” 

“Harry,” 

“I knew you wouldn’t let him die.” 

Pure terror clawed at her insides. She most certainly had not seen Auror Thaddeus Jacobs– he was one of the faces still missing per her count– let alone Malfoy. Nor had anyone told her she was expected to be treating him. Other than the emergent Patronus from the first responder that notified her of incoming wounded and that all hands were needed on deck she hadn’t been notified of anything. So whatever it was Harry thought she had done, or treatment she had supposedly given to a possible bite-riddled Malfoy, she hadn’t. 

There was a part of her, and she was entirely sure of its size, that wanted to believe Harry was too loopy to be remembering things correctly. He was in shock, frantic, and exhausted. There was also no way Malfoy had attacked Chewbacca or Chewbacca had attacked Malfoy. It was absurd. 

Though, she supposed someone who might have looked like Chewbacca? 

She had so many questions, ones she wasn’t going to get from Harry at present, not now that he was gently snoring. She was determined to get them, however, so she turned elsewhere. 

An Auror closest to her, Quintin Watts if she recalled his name correctly, needed magical stitching for an arm laceration along with some pain relief to help while she worked and possibly to aid in loosening his tongue. She had just started to get him to open up when three loud cracks sounded. 

The missing four Aurors, two of whom she didn’t fully recognize but knew enough to piece together which one was Brianna Waltz and which one was Justin Trewl. Which meant the other two names belonged to Thaddeus Jacobs and Draco Malfoy. Thaddeus was hardly recognizable in his current state, but at least he was still standing on his own. Malfoy was another story entirely. Being held up by Thaddeus, and only just, her heart all but plummeted when her eyes finally landed on him

He was covered in blood, just like Harry had been, though not exactly to the same extent. His white-blonde hair was unmistakable, even if most of it was stained red with blood. The parts of his face not muck-covered or blood-coated were ashen. There was a sickly green glow emanating from his chest with dark wisps of magic seeping off his robes. She could definitely understand why Harry had been so concerned.

"Merlin's beard," she whispered under her breath, abandoning the Auror she had been healing. A blink later she was next to Malfoy and conjuring up a bed for him. Not even a second later Thaddeus, who hadn’t been responding to her questions, buckled. Skilled as she was, she caught him with her magic before he hit the floor and called a healer over to treat him while she focused back on Malfoy.

There was a dark curse woven through his body, its malevolent magic pulsing with a sickly green glow. It was a complex, insidious spell, designed to destroy from the inside out. Not to mention the deep punctures on his arm and neck that were suspiciously not bleeding. She cast a diagnostic charm, sucking in a sharp breath when it flickered with bright oranges, reds, and even a few purple spots that concerned her greatly. Dark magic was still seeping off of him and interfering with her spell, causing it to malfunction, flicker, and disappear. 

"Granger…” someone coughed. Silver eyes met hers. They were open but unfocused, perhaps unseeing. She was losing him, she could feel it. “Potter, is he... alive?" he croaked out, as though each word pained him to say, yet he said them anyway. 

Hermione ignored the absurdity that both boys were daft enough to ask after one another instead of worrying about themselves. "He's alive.” She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, perhaps it was to offer him up some comfort, but she put her hand against his cheek as she said the words. 

“Good.” He wheezed out, “I-I,” 

“Hush now Malfoy. Harry’s safe, and you’re safe.” 

“And-and you’re here.” he pushed out, reaching up for her hand in the same way Harry had done earlier. Capturing it in his and holding it still for just a moment. She tried not to be affected by the amount of trust and faith both men seemed to have in her, but it was hard. 

She recast the diagnostic charm, hoping that their faith wasn’t misplaced in her. 

She needed to identify the dark purple spots first so her spell would stop malfunctioning, but before she could cast a more in-depth spell Malfoy’s body convulsed violently. It was also, at that moment, Harry stirred from his short-lived slumber. Or perhaps he had stirred with the cracks of apparition had sounded and he was only just now coming around enough to ask her what was happening as he struggled to get up from his chair. 

“I need Diazepam, STAT.” She barked out, using her magic to keep Malfoy’s seizing body stable. “Harry, stay back.” She took just a moment to flick her wand at her best friend, pulling up the chair he had just gotten out of. It hit the back of his legs and caused him to crash back down onto it. 

He was screaming something at her and making demands to know what was happening, but she tuned him out, giving her own demands and instructions to those around her. She didn’t remember calling for the team that now surrounded her, but she likely had. There were only a few moments from when the Diazepam was administered, and the seizures stopped, before the bed she conjured was being wheeled back to a more private room. Another order she didn't remember giving.

"Why wasn't Draco treated first? Why Hermione!” Harry’s voice followed them as he called after her, with the even more gut wrenching “You lied to me!"

Which she didn’t, but she understood why he felt like she had. "Harry, stay put!" She shouted back, to which he didn’t listen. But she refused to take her focus off of Malfoy too long, as she shuffled through other spells trying to identify what was corrupting her diagnostics. 

Finally something clicked. “There.” she pointed to the diagnostic spell before it flickered out again. She wasn’t typically one to curse, but she felt like it in that moment, but it would have only wasted more time. Time Malfoy didn’t have. She also didn’t bother casting another charm, knowing it wouldn’t last long enough to show the other healers and understanding they would just have to trust her. Which they did, explicitly. 

Unlike Harry, who seemed incapable of it at the moment as he followed them into the room. “Stupefy.” it was a direct hit, one she would profusely apologize for later, despite knowing he wouldn’t forgive her for it, especially if she heal Malfoy. But her focus needed to be on him and Harry was disastrously pulling her focus away from that. “Someone get him out of here. Give him a sedative, and keep him overnight. He’ll need some skele-gro too.” 

“On it.” she wasn’t sure what healer responded, and she didn’t care enough to look up, her focus solely on Malfoy 

The room became a blur of motion after that as healers worked in unison, their movements precise and coordinated. Hermione's hands moved instinctively, casting counter-curses and healing spells, administering a mixture of magical potions and muggle medication to try and stabilize Malfoy. Her focus was razor-sharp as she tried to stop the dark magic wreaking havoc on Malfoy’s body. Or, more specifically, his blood. It was curdling it, slowly turning it to lumpy solids that would eventually kill him. 

Every second felt like an eternity. The dark magic continuing to resist her efforts, the green glow intensifying. "Stay with me, Malfoy," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. He had three more seizures, each one more violent than the last, and she was starting to run out of ideas. The dark magic was infecting him, like a poison. She tried a few potions to counter it, even thought perhaps a bezoar would help, but they were proven ineffective. 

As her last diagnostic charm flickered out again, she let a sigh leave her lips. She needed this blasted curse out of him. “I’m just going to have to force it out.” She muttered to no one in particular before she cast a spell she had never used on a human before. A powerful siphoning spell she had stumbled across years ago when doing some light reading. 

Thankfully, it seemed to be working, only she didn’t have any place for the darkness to go. “I need a vial, quickly.” She ended up needing four as she filled them with the expelled curse, making sure to protect them each with a shatterproof spell before sending them up to her office to be studied at a later date. 

Though still sedated, Malfoy’s body seemed to relax now that it was free of the curse, but when she cast another diagnostic spell, her heart sank. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy, of course she did, it would have been foolish to think otherwise. But she had not expected the deep purple to still show up on her graphs. 

Her eyes grew big as they quickly traced over the graph, then looked down at the unconscious body before her. Without allowing herself a moment to think, she relied solely on pure instincts and vanished his robes, then his shirt and sucked in a sharp breath. Black, vine-like marks, likely a poison or toxin, were spread throughout his body. Though it started out slow in its takeover, it appeared to be speeding up.

The curse before had been curdling his blood, preventing it from moving freely through his body. Now that it was removed, the toxin was free to wreck its own havoc. A quick glance at her charm work confirmed this. Whatever it was, was in his blood, impervious to anti-poisons and bezoars, and with each beat of his heart it was spreading. 

Allowing herself just a few moments to figure out what was causing it, she looked down at the deep puncture wounds. Only, now she could tell they were not punctures but a series of bites that were now profusely bleeding. Two on his left arm, likely a defensive move on Malfoy’s part. One on his right leg, one more on his left hip, and the most concerning of all was the one on his neck. 

Her mind raced back to Harry's frantic mutterings about being attacked by Chewbacca. Obviously it wasn’t Chewbacca, but maybe something that looked like him? A werewolf? No, it wasn’t a full moon, and it was still during the day. 

Her mind raced through different animals and magical creatures, drawing a blank until something else clicked. It wasn’t something that looked like Chewbacca, but something that sounded like the word. Chupacabra.

It was a bloody Chupacabra.

They weren’t native to England, and she couldn't recall a single case of one ever being here. But she was certain that’s what had happened. She would bet everything in her career on the fact that copious amounts of blood on both Harry and Malfoy were likely from a goat, which had led to it attacking Malfoy. Otherwise it likely wouldn’t have bothered with him, and wouldn’t have bit him multiple times, infecting him with its venom. 

A venom she needed to get out of him, and fast. 

Time seemed to blur as she worked, the minutes stretching into an eternity. Hermione didn't allow herself to think about what would happen if she failed. Failure wasn't an option. She would save Draco Malfoy, no matter what it took. Harry expected her to, as did Malfoy, they trusted her to, and she would not let them down. She couldn’t. 

She tried suctioning it out like she did with the dark magic, but it was moving too quickly. She couldn’t fight it fast enough, not even with help from the other healers. There was only one thing she could do: she needed to stop his blood from flowing. Which meant she had to do something drastic, risky, and went against about a dozen hospital protocols, but she had to try.

“We’re going to need to stop his heart.” She said to the room, not oblivious to the slight hisses of air and questioning looks from her coworkers. 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Someone asked, she didn’t care who.

“No more so than letting this reach his heart.” And it was close, dangerously close, to doing just that. There would be no coming back from that. 

“It will be fine. It can stay stopped for four minutes at a time without any lingering damages.” She knew it wasn’t enough, but it might just be what they needed to control the spread. 

“Carrie, keep track of the time. I need to know minute by minute, it’s important we don’t go over. Do you understand?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

"On my mark," she instructed, her voice and hand surprisingly steady, exuding more confidence than she actually felt. "One, two, three—now!" She didn’t stop his heart per-se, she just cast a shield around it to make sure his blood stopped flowing freely. Successfully cutting it off from the rest of his body and essentially assuring the poison didn’t breach it. Which was basically the same thing as stopping it, for the beating ceased the moment she cast it. 

Then the room was filled with the sounds of spells as everyone worked to get the poison out of his system, interrupted only by Carrie telling them each passing minute. There was a healer at each wound, Hermione tackling the worst one at his neck as the poison there was already so close to his heart. The seconds ticked by painfully slowly. 

"Two minutes!" 

Hermione's hands moved with precision, her focus unbreakable. She couldn't let him die. She wouldn’t let him die. 

"It’s been Four minutes! Restart his heart!" Carrie called out. 

“Don’t stop your spells!” Hermione warned, feeling some of them dropping. “The poison’s not out yet.” It was far from it, though it was drawn further away from his heart. 

“But his heart,”

“I know!” She lowered the shield the second someone came to take her place at his neck. 

Holding her breath as her eyes flicked to the diagnostic charm as she waited. After three seconds, there was a strong blip as Malfoy’s heart restarted and reconnected. Strong, loud sounding waves, reverberating on her graph. For a moment, relief washed over her. But it was fleeting. There was still poison left and the remaining poison was still advancing against them. 

Crap.

"Again!" The process restarted. Five times. Each time the room filled with tension as they suctioned the poison, and each time they got a little closer but it wasn’t enough. 

"Come on," she whispered, they were so close, but it was time. Carrie called out the 4 minute mark and Hermione dropped the enchantment, her eyes once again flicking to his vitals and the line that indicated his heartbeats. 

There wasn’t a blip. Not a single wave. 

Bollocks. 

“Come on Malfoy.” She sent a small electric current to his heart. A wave, a small P wave, then it was gone. “We’ve been over this, you are not dying on me. Not today.” She sent another current, then another. 

“Five minutes.” 

Shit. 

“You’re not dying! You hear me?” He didn’t. She knew he didn’t. But she didn’t stop. “Not like this.” she growled out, sending another shock to his heart. “Come on!” another one. 

Two waves… then a third. “Yes.” her graph blipped, letting out three strong beeps before his heart faltered again. “NO!” She was on the bed with him now, kneeling over him, her hands over his chest pressing down in a steady rhythm. Her lips pressed against his as she forced air into his lungs before starting her chest compressions. He wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t. She wouldn’t let him. 

“Stay with me Malfoy, please.” Another breath of air, another round of compressions. She counted them out, thirty, before she put her lips against his and pushed in two breaths. Her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. She refused to let him die like this. Her vision tunneled as she focused on the rhythmic compressions, willing him to come back.

"Six minutes." 

She glanced at the charm, the poison was gone now but he still had a plethora of other conditions aside from his heart not restarting. But everyone seemed to have backed up, no longer working, looking at her with sad eyes as she counted each push out loud. Already writing him off as a lost cause. 

But this was Malfoy they were dealing with. Strong willed, thick-headed, exceedingly annoying and stubborn Draco Malfoy. They didn’t know him like she did, and she knew he wasn’t going out like this. He couldn’t. 

Two more breaths. 

“Don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop!” more chest compressions as she lined up each word, each syllable with each beat, keeping the same tempo she knew she needed. 

“Mend. His. Bones. Stitch. The. Lac-er-a-tions.” 

"Seven minutes." She wished Carrie would shut the hell up. 

Her arms ached, but she didn’t stop. "Come on, Malfoy," she whispered again, her voice breaking. "Come back."

"Eight minutes." Avery called out the words like a death knell.

Sweat dripped down her forehead, mingling with the tears she refused to acknowledge. 

"Healer Granger, it’s-"

“NO! Don’t you dare tell me it’s time.” She snapped. They had stopped working on him again. She refused to look at them, refused to see their faces full of pity and knowing looks. They thought he was dead, he was a goner, but she knew. She knew she had time still, albeit not much. 

The longer it took, the more she risked brain damage, but she wasn’t about to give up on him. She wouldn’t. Not ever. Besides, she had until the ten minute mark at least. 

"Nine–"

“Shut up!” Two more breaths, thirty compressions. Her arms burned, but she didn’t stop. 

"He's gone," one of the healers said softly, their voice filled with sorrow. "Healer Granger, it’s time to stop."

"No!" She growled out. "I still have time." She didn't, but she didn’t stop either. The room felt colder, the atmosphere heavy with despair. She kept going, her movements frantic, desperate.

"He's gone," A healer repeated gently, trying to pull her away.

"No!" she screamed, her voice raw. "I won't let him die!"

Her strength was waning, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t let him go.

"Ten minutes." the words sounded as shaky as her arms felt. 

Her breaths were coming in ragged gasps. 

“No.”

Harry would never forgive her. 

She would never forgive herself. 

If only she had been faster, if she had tried harder… if… 

A warm hand fell on her shoulder. “Healer Granger, stop. You need to stop.” 

Her arms felt heavier than lead as they fell to her sides. She failed. She failed Harry, she failed Malfoy… She failed. 

An agonizingly painful sob ripped through her as she gave his chest one last pound before laying her head down against his. “I’m so sorry.” And she wept for the boy he once was, the man he had become, and the life he could have had if only things had happened differently.

Healer Hermione Granger (Yes, I know the technical colors for Healers are that ugly lime green color. But that's just it... they are ugly and I didn't want to do that to our girl. So here she is in blue instead. Let's just say she hated the color and petitioned for a change in color, okay? okay. thanks! ;) )