Donor

“Will there ever be a time when you two think through something before you jump in head first?” Hermione admonished while tying off the last stitch through Harry’s brow.

Yes, she could have just sealed it magically, but her new stich method that combined spelled thread with magical and muggle healing properties had proven to leave the wounded skin looking even better than before injury.

“We did think it thr - OW! Bloody hell, ‘Mione!” Ron howled as she started on resetting his crooked fingers. “Couldn’t have given me a warning or a potion or some of that weird muggle numbing cream?!”

“Oh hush, I just stuck a needle in his face without it.”

“Didn’t know it was an option,” Harry grumbled crossly from behind her.

She shrugged before wrapping Ron’s fingers in gauze and casting a stasis charm to keep it from unraveling and handing him a small glass of Skele-Gro. “Maybe next time you both decide to be idiots and not wait for backup, you’ll think of this moment.”

“George said –“

“Oh!” She cut her friend off before he had the chance to explain why they had ended up in her office bloodied and broken. “‘George said’!?… Ronald when has your brother even been a credible source for anything other than mischief?”

The doors to her medical suite crashed open with a flurry of chaos, two Aurors were carried in on stretchers and whisked through the door that led to the emergent area of her small practice.

“Now shoo. I have real patients to tend to.”

Hermione cleansed her hands magically as she strode purposefully to the private area where the Aurors had been taken. Her two nurses had already begun running diagnostic panels on the unconscious bodies while she tied her hair up in a knot at the top of her head. She surveyed the men, examining them for any sign of obvious injury before quickly reading through their diagnostics. Their heartrates were alarmingly high but there was no blood loss or fatal wounds indicated.

She had them stabilized in minutes, and with the help of some muggle smelling salts, both were awake moments after.

“Mmph, I think I might be sick,” one groaned and gagged.

Susan Bones shoved a bin into his lap before turning and following her other nurse, Hannah Abbott, back to the front of the office as they were no longer needed. Hermione’s brows pulled down. Her normally sweet-tempered nurse had never acted so aggressively in her life. She made a mental note to ask Susan about what had happened between her and the former Slytherin.

“What in the actual fuck was that, Granger?” The other choked out with a violent shudder.

“Muggle remedy,” she explained nonchalantly, used to the reaction that the foul-smelling jars provoked. “Nott, Zabini, can either of you tell me what happened so we know what to monitor you for during the next few hours?”

“We were,” -cough-, “looking for – please hold,” Nott stated, face losing all color and then he promptly dropped his head into the provided bin to retch.

She swung her head to Zabini hoping he would pick up where his friend left off but found him with his eyes squeezed shut and hands over his ears. She rolled her eyes and waited for the Slytherins to compose themselves.

When Nott finished being sick, she tapped Zabini’s foot.

“Sorry, don’t do well with vomit,” he said sheepishly.

Hermione floated an anti-nausea potion from the cabinets to Nott and vanished the bin he had used.

“As Theo was saying, we were searching for, and planning to confiscate, a dark artifact that was rumored to be held at an old Death Eater property,” Zabini finally explained.

“We found it,” Nott chimed in. “Or rather, Draco found it and we were standing behind him when he picked it up. It exploded.”

Hermione’s hair stood on end. Her interactions with the mentioned Wizard were never pleasant during their years at school which had thankfully progressed to far and few between since the war. Once or twice on the lift in the Ministry or out for drinks with their respective friend groups where he would just give her a hard stare, maybe a slight tip of his head in acknowledgement on a good day. She could’ve sworn she saw him in muggle London once while shopping with Ginny, but he was gone when she did her double take and figured she had had too many espressos.

She frowned. “If the two of you are here, where is Malfoy?”

“If he’s alive, St. Mungo’s,” Zabini answered as if he were talking about the weather instead of his possibly dead mate. “We were brought here because we don’t have private family Healers like Draco. Well Theo does but the guy is a massive prick. We heard you were the best, despite your… proclivity for integrative muggle practices, so, you are listed as our preferred Healer on our Emergency list,” he finished with a shrug.

“Typically, it is normal practice to let a Healer know when you’ve chosen them for your dedicated care,” Hermione clipped as she tried to let the muggle insult disguised as a compliment role off her shoulders.

“Granger, Nott and I have chosen you to be our primary Healer.”

The level of couth he exuded was something Hermione found she admired but it also irked her. In one sentence, he was able to respond with polished nonchalance while at the same time effectively dismantling her protest to their blind entitlement to her as a person. Not that her own friends didn’t act the same way. Harry and Ron had just done the very same thing the two Slytherin’s in front of her had done not twenty minutes ago. Cons of being a Healer she supposed.

“Hermione?” Susan called as she opened the door, knocking her out of her reflective social dissection. “St. Mungo’s is requesting your immediate presence.”

“Thank you, Susan,” she said and began loading her medical bag with everything she regularly used along with anything she knew the magical hospital would not have. “I expect a full medical history and all paperwork to be filled out before you both leave if I am to remain your Healer.”

Zabini nodded.

 “You got it, Granger!” Nott smiled, looking much better from his bout of sickness.

She had to fight the urge to smile back at him. He was trouble that one.

“Susan, they stay overnight, diagnostics panel every hour.”

“That’s hardly necessary!” Zabini protested.

“Healer’s orders,” she responded and then disapparated with a crack.

Hermione’s small practice was technically located within the Ministry as she was legally contracted as an on-site Healer, however when opening the door to her office you were actually stepping into building located in the throngs of muggle London. It doubled as her flat so she could come and go as she pleased, seeming normal to the muggle world while witches and wizards only entered directly into the upstairs office and treatment rooms from the portal doorway in the Ministry that she had created herself. There was a set of stairs that linked the two floors, but it was heavily charmed and very much invisible to most. Harry, the Weasley family, Hannah and Susan were the only other people who knew about the duality of her space and had occasionally used the muggle street entrance.

When she landed at the apparition point for the St. Mungo’s entrance, she remembered why she had gone through all the trouble to create her own area as a Healer.

The sterile walls and overwhelming feeling of unease grated on her sense of calm making the magic inside of her feel itchy beneath her skin. While she knew both muggle and magical hospitals took great care of their patients, it was just not the kind of environment where she was able to produce her best work. She shook it off and walked to the reception desk where she usually checked-in when summoned.

“Oh, Healer Granger, good!” The witch manning the counter had said hurriedly, “Fourth floor. They’re expecting you.”

“Who is it I am to see?”

“I was not privy to that information. Was only told to get you here promptly.”

She nodded and took the lift to the fourth floor. Upon exiting, she was about to make her way down the hall where the emergent cases were usually taken when a soft but firm voice called out to her.

“Ms. Granger,” she spun, finding Narcissa Malfoy striding towards her from the direction of the private rooms.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” she greeted, the uneasy feeling from before creeping back in.

“Thank you for coming. I will be direct as I do not wish to waste any more time,” she began walking in the direction she came from, Hermione followed. “I called you here because Draco’s condition is not improving under the care of our current Healer. I understand that it has not been very long since the accident, but I am not overly pleased with the work, rather the lack thereof, that is being done to mend him.”

Hermione swallowed in an attempt to gain control over her sudden and inexplainable nerves. “May I ask what he is suffering from and what has been done to help?”

She watched Narcissa purse her lips and the hair on the back of her neck stood up again. Whatever it was could not be good.

“I must first ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Anything you learn about his ailment, or do to treat him, along with the outcomes of your treatment must be kept confidential. His father and our family lawyer require it.”

Hermione stopped herself from being led any further by the woman.

“Mrs. Malfoy, what exactly am I walking into here?” She questioned, her self-preservation overriding any nerves she may have had. “I will not be signing any legal document unless I am given some kind of indication for whether I should be signing, especially if there are stipulations or penalties that may later come back to haunt me.”

A slight upward curve of the woman’s lips threw Hermione off given how serious she had been seconds before.

“I’ve heard of how intelligent you are, the rumors were clearly true.” Narcissa quickly conjured a quill and paper and began scribbling while she continued. “I am forbidden to say anything.”

Hermione took the paper that was handed to her.

Contracted a blood curse. Family Healer refusing to try alternatives.

Her head snapped up when the paper turned to ash after she finished reading the last word.

“I see,” Was all she managed to get out. She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I would like a clause added to the contract that states I am free to speak on matters concerning Mr. Malfoy’s health should I find myself in court or on trial for any reason related to my care of him. And another that states you, or any extension of the Malfoy family, cannot attempt to remove me as a licensed Healer in legality, by defamation of character, or further, Healing ability.”

“Done.”

“Do we need a witness?”

“Tula!”

A loud crack startled Hermione enough to make her jump.

“Yes a’misses?”

“Tula this is Ms. Granger, she is going to be signing a family contract and I need you to be our witness. I will make sure your weekly pay reflects it. Ms. Granger, this is a member of my household staff.”

“Very nice to meet you, Tula,” Hermione smiled and extended her hand to the elf, which was shyly taken.

Narcissa produced the contract and a quill, Hermione read over it briefly, summarizing the legal jargon in her head at a speed that was efficient enough to understand while still being mindful of the time-sensitive situation she was in.

Everything seemed to be adequate. The only line she crossed out was a statement that suggested she defer to the family Healer as her superior and follow all his directives. Narcissa was quick to add her initials to the altercation and then Hermione was signing. As soon as the ‘r’ of her last name was complete she felt an invisible bracelet snap into place on her wrist, the sensation was brief and faded away as soon as the contract disappeared, but she knew it would remain for the rest of her life.

Hermione heard the telltale buzz of a Muffliato charm settle over her.

“Now, here’s what I know: My son and two of his colleagues that work in the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects were on a mission to find a cursed artifact. They’ve been gone for over a week searching for it and they must’ve found it this morning, but something went wrong. Draco has a lifeline spell attached to him; do you know what that is?” Hermione shook her head no, shocked that there was a spell that she hadn’t yet heard of. “A lot of old traditional families have them placed on their children, it sends an alert patronus of sorts should their life ever be close to extinction. I received Draco’s early this morning.”

“Nott and Zabini were brought to my office no more than an hour ago. How long has it been since the alert?” Hermione questioned as she pieced together what little information she had regarding how long the curse had been running rampant in Malfoy’s body.

“Roughly before eight I believe. It took me some time to find their exact location.”

“Two hours ago. What symptoms is he displaying?”

Narcissa opened the door to the private room motioning for Hermione to step in.

“Unconsciousness, fever, vomiting blood, vitals all over the place. Diagnostics are red flagging his blood which is why I assumed it to be a blood curse.”

Hermione stepped around the curtain that was placed just inside the door meant to keep anyone from seeing into the room accidentally. Three analytic panels hovered over Malfoy’s pale and limp body. His white-blonde hair was damp from sweat and there were thick red streaks of dried blood descending from his mouth, down his neck and chest, and on to the bed he rested on.

Three nurses worked at pouring what looked to be a blood-replenishing potion down his throat while the man she presumed to be the family Healer stood by watching the numbers and colors fluctuate like one of those lottery machines at the casinos downtown. She watched them too, letting her brows pull down as she quickly worked over what they were demonstrating.

Exactly two minutes after the administered blood-replenishing potion, Malfoy began to convulse, blood poured out of his mouth while he choked on it silently. All three diagnostic panels were flashing an angry red when she dashed forward and tipped him on his side to allow the liquid to drain out in the hopes of allowing air in.

“Are you all daft!?” She seethed, not caring that his blood was now splattered all over her robes and hands.

The three nurses looked horrified and the Healer looked to Narcissa as if she were a child.

“She shouldn’t be in here.”

“I asked her to come.”

“Lucius wouldn’t approve.”

“Lucius is not in a place to make executive decisions at the moment. I am in charge now, Cecil, you’d do well to remember that.”

Hermione ignored their banter as she waited for Malfoy to inhale before allowing him to return to his back.

“You shouldn’t touch him or his blood,” was all the man said to her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve touched worse things. A blood curse only causes harm to the host… surely something you should know.”

“Ah, been here all of three minutes and already have a diagnosis, do we?” Cecil’s haughty voice rang out. “I suppose it would take a witch with such an infliction to know what it looks like.”

“Sadly, despite my infliction of being muggle-born and all your ‘qualifications’, I’m afraid all it takes is a someone with a brain and two working eyes,” she countered through her teeth. She quickly cast her own diagnostic, one that charted the last ten minutes of activity accompanying the three already existing. “His vitals remain steady, albeit extremely low and weak, after he expels the blood-replenishing potion.” She ran her wand down the list of numbers and time stamps as if she were giving a presentation in school. “The potion is then administered again which takes roughly one minute to take effect, and another minute after for it to circulate through the arteriovenous system, causing the body to attack itself again from the rush of newly generated blood.”

The room was deadly quiet apart from Malfoy’s rattled breathing. The vital holograms faded from red to orange, out of the danger zone but still quite near the edge of death.

“Thank you, Cecil. We are no longer in need of your services.”

“Outrageous!” The dismissed Healer stomped toward the door with his three nurses in tow. “When he dies, Narcissa, and he will die while that little girl is taking care of him, make sure to tell Lucius that I was not a part of it!”

Narcissa rushed to the other side of her son’s bed, pushing the fallen strands of hair, now stained pink from blood splatter, off his sweaty forehead. 

“Mrs. Malfoy - ”

“Narcissa, please.”

Hermione nodded, “Narcissa, I need one of my nurses. Susan Bones. She’ll be discrete and will sign the contract.”

“Tula!”

Thwap

“Tula is here a’misses.”

“Please fetch Ms. Granger’s nurse, Susan. Tell her it is an emergency and that she is needed immediately.”

“Right aways!”

Thwap

“You are aware that I use muggle healing practices as well as magical, yes?”

Narcissa stiffened but remained expressionless. “I may have heard something like that… yes.”

“I have an idea on how to fix this… it is a bit… out of the ordinary in the magical world, and it will require you to be very openminded.”

“Okay.”

Thwap

“Hermione, what is going – oh Merlin…” Susan gasped as she approached the stretcher, eyes darting between the charts and the man they were attached to.

“Susan, are you willing to sign a contract and be sworn to secrecy regarding the very immediate and possibly lifesaving treatment for Mr. Malfoy?”

“I uhm, I mean, I suppose?” Her most dedicated and loyal coworker squeaked while simultaneously healing a few of the minor injuries she saw.

The contract was again produced with a snap of fingers, signed, and then forgotten as it disappeared.

“Narcissa, do you happen to know what blood type your son has?”

“I have never had a need to, no.”

Hermione hummed and reached for the bag she had tossed during her rush for Malfoy’s bed. After rummaging through the extension charm and the various items within, she came up with what she needed. A needle, tubing, a few empty vials and two containing the blood she was going to test against. It only took her a few minutes to get the iv placed in his arm and what little blood he had left drawn. She then added Malfoy’s blood with the two samples and levitated the vials before casting a vibrating spell to make sure the two mixed well. She set a timer for two minutes.

While the blood mixed, she explained everything she had learned to Susan, giving her trusted nurse strict care instructions and ordered for absolutely no blood-replenishing potions.

“So, you’re thinking blood transfusion then?” Susan confirmed with a nod fully understanding her unsaid plan.

A subtle beeping rang out in the room signaling the end of the timer. She swished her wand about, moving the vials where she needed them while she went over her patient’s vitals one more time. Still steady but nowhere near safe levels. She stuck the test strip in for blood type A and it came back not a match. Hermione repeated the experiment with the strip for blood type B, it again came back negative.

She sighed. 

“What is it?” Narcissa asked from beside her, looking at the strip in her hands with rapt attention.

“It seems your son has a predetermined will, even when unconscious, to continually make my life difficult,” she responded with a wry smile. “His blood type is good for giving but makes it challenging for receiving. Type O can donate to every blood type however can only receive from other type O donors.”

If she weren’t so focused on saving him she would’ve laughed at the irony. The blood he and his acquaintances detested, the blood he so desperately needed at the moment, was hers.

“Mrs. Malfoy, we’ll need to test your blood as well to see if you’re able to be his donor,” Susan chimed in.

Narcissa raised the sleeve of her tailored robes and extended her arm to the redhead without hesitation, wincing only slightly when she was poked with the needle. Hermione waved a cooling charm over Malfoy to keep the fever from progressing any further. His diagnostics were starting to reach concerning levels again but this time in the opposite direction.

Susan repeated all of Hermione’s steps, while Hermione’s eyes darted between the timer and the heart monitor that was showing slower and slower rhythm as each second ticked by.

The alarm sounded.

Hermione swiped at the vials, shoving one with a test strip into Susan’s hands.

“Negative!” Susan called.

“Negative.” She cried while reading the results of her strip.

Another alarm sounded. Indicating exactly what she was hoping wouldn’t happen before she was able to figure out her next move. His heart was close to stopping.

“Narcissa, under normal circumstances we would have a discussion about your wishes for the caliber of blood he receives, but we clearly don’t have time for that now,” she rushed while ripping off her Healer robes. “I need you to tell me right now if you have any objection to Draco receiving my blood… we are both well aware it’s not pure by your standards…”

“Hermione!” Susan admonished.

She didn’t have the time to examine whether it was for her to hurry or in surprise that she was about to do something so taboo in the magical world that it could possibly end with her being assassinated by the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

“Narcissa!” She barked. They couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

The Malfoy Matriarch’s eyes flicked to her son before returning to her. “Do it.”

Hermione stuck the needle in her vein quickly connecting it to the tubing while Susan overcame her initial shock and began doing the same to Malfoy. She connected the two channels and cast a spell to make sure there would be no flow reversal.

The three of them stood there in complete silence, scrutinizing the flow from her body to Draco’s and the flashing red panels stationed above his seemingly lifeless body. The heart monitor flatlined.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she whispered desperately, using her wand hand to send CPR compressions hoping the pumping of blood manually would speed the process along.

And then he gasped, deep and ragged, chest lifting off the stretcher and flopping back down as he continued to take air.

The panels stopped flashing, finally faded from red to orange after some time, and then they shifted to yellow just as she was hit with a heavy wave dizziness and her knees buckled.

“Ms. Granger!”

She waved a hand dismissively, the gesture shaky and weak. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Susan… my bag…”

Her nurse did her one better; two uncorked bottles of blood-replenishing potion appeared in front of her. She slid one to her lips and didn’t have the strength to fight the grimace she made from the taste.

“Alright Hermione, I think you’ve given enough for now.”

Her vision unblurred. “A bit more,” she responded looking up at the pair of them and the diagnostics, “just a bit more.”

“You’ll be no help to him if you drain yourself,” Susan opposed.

She conceded with a nod, allowing the other witch to stop the flow and remove the needle from her arm. She moved to stand but unfortunately did not make it far before Narcissa had to catch her, she found herself deposited into a conjured chair with an anxious frown marring the woman’s face. Susan pushed her hand that held the unconsumed potion to her mouth encouraging her to drink it as if she were the patient here. She wrinkled her nose but did so.

“Ms. Granger, I cannot thank you enough.”

Hermione shrugged as if it was just another day at the office, as if she didn’t just give over half of her own blood to the one person who constantly reminded her of how foul it was, as if she didn’t just violate at least half a dozen pure-blood commandments.

“Your sacrifice and dedication will not be forgotten, should you ever need an ally, you will find one with the Malfoy family,” Narcissa assured with a sincere smile and steady hand on her shoulder.

“What, exactly, has she done to deserve that promise?” The deep voice had all three of their heads whipping in its direction. Where they found Malfoy pressing his palms to his eye sockets. “And why do I feel as though I’ve been run through by a train?”

“Draco!” Narcissa exclaimed and rushed, elegantly, to his side.

She attempted to stand again but thought better of it and dropped back down. “Susan; one Pepper up, two drops of Murtlap on the tongue, and Essence of Dittany to the lacerations.”

Hermione’s eyes danced over the marred skin that had long healed mingled with the fresh cuts from the explosion. She’d heard about the damage Harry’s spell had caused but did not expect to ever see it. The raised slashes that littered his upper chest and stomach still looked pink and somewhat angry even though it had happened years ago. It was a nasty curse and she hoped to never see the aftermath of it on anyone else. Her eyes moved to the open cuts intermixed with the old. Some were deeper than others, but none looked too serious. She would have stitched them as she had done with Harry’s face, however, she had a feeling she wouldn’t have been able to complete the task due to her current lack of strength and Malfoy’s undoubted refusal of allowing her to do so.

“You nearly died,” Susan responded to Draco, answering one of his two questions while she followed out Hermione’s instructions.

He scoffed and then hissed when the Dittany was dropped on and began melding the wounds back together.

“I’ll add it to the list.”

“What list would that be?” Her nurse continued to engage him as she worked, she was good at distracting patients in that way. “Open.”

Draco pulled his hand away from his head and frowned at her command.

“Draco,” Narcissa spoke again at his side, “do as she says.”

Another frown.

“My list of near-death experiences. Seems to be ever growing,” He answered before dropping his jaw allowing Susan to pour the Pepper up and drops of Murtlap in. He choked and sputtered. “Merlin, Bones. Trying to make it another?”

Pickled Murtlap was typically applied as a topical solution, but it was also known to have internal healing properties. Unfortunately, it also tasted like feet soaked in vinegar. Added to the spicy Pepper up it was probably an abhorrent concoction. She didn’t know where the laugh came from as it slipped out of her.

“Still as dramatic as ever.”

His head turned, piercing eyes pinned her in place.

Oh.

It was the same look he used to give her at school, yet somehow it was different. Like it had been in the lifts in passing, it was still heated but it lacked the cold-heartedness from their adolescence.

“I’m still eager to hear why my family is now indebted to ‘The Golden Girl’.”

“She’s the Healer that saved you, Draco,” his mother chirped. Her tone signaling her displeasure for how he was behaving.

“Where’s Cecil?”

“I dismissed him. You contracted a Blood Curse and he was failing at keeping you alive.”

“I see,” Draco said evenly. “Theo and Blaise?”

“Fine. Driving Hannah and I mad at Hermione’s private clinic,” Susan grumbled before speaking to her from across the bed as she pulled the needle out of Draco’s arm. “Make sure to put them at the bottom of the priority list of patients.”

Hermione nodded in humor, “Noted.”

He once again held her in his sight as he made moves to sit up. “I have an instinctive feeling I am not going to like the answer… do I even want to know what you did to ‘save’ me?”

Susan blanched and quickly found herself busy packing up Hermione’s Healer bag. “I think I’ll go check in on Hannah and the boys.”

She was gone in snap that echoed in the once again deadly silent room.

A heavy sigh fell from Draco’s lips, “Right, I suppose that answers it.”

He hopped off the stretcher with a wobble and reached for his wand on the table that separated the bed he had occupied and the chair she was stationed in.

“The curse seems to attack your blood. You were running perilously low in volume and your heart stopped,” Narcissa informed. “I was not a match, but Ms. Granger was… she gave you her blood, Draco. Almost all of it.”

“She. Did. WHAT?!”

Hermione winced and finally found the strength to stand.

“It was that or let you die,” she attempted to defend her actions. “I understand why you may be upse-”

“You should’ve let me die.”

For the first time since waking, his voice sounded how she remembered: cold, repulsed even.

“Draco!” Narcissa scolded harshly.

He was gone in a puff of black smoke.

“Oh Hermione, I am deeply sorry,” the woman said as she moved toward her. “I will speak with him. He will be apologizing.”

“No, no… it’s okay,” she lied. The pit of her stomach felt as though it was going to fall out of her. “This is a part of trying to bridge the magical and muggle healing worlds that I’ve grown used to. Not everyone will be accepting of it.”

“I meant what I said, The Malfoy’s will be in your corner whenever you need.”

“Thank you,” she responded, fully intent on never playing that card.

Narcissa smiled as she gathered Hermione’s hands in her own, giving them a squeeze and then turning away to leave the room.

“Mrs. Malfoy…” she called, the woman turned, “blood circulates in the body for roughly 120 days. With the curse I’m assuming it will last half that time at best. Draco will need to find a new donor before all of my blood degenerates, or his heart will stop again… for good.”

Narcissa pursed her lips tightly and gave a tip of her head in acknowledge before stepping through the door.