Donor

Twenty-eight days. It had been twenty-eight days since Hermione had sent Narcissa the missive containing a list, albeit very short due to the fact that wizards apparently did not get blood typed apart from the ones she had previously treated, of names with possible blood matches for Draco. Narcissa wrote back expressing her thanks but that was all. She did not know whether they had found someone willing. She did not know if he had found a cure. 

Hermione considered the latter a bit unlikely, as dark magic was typically a rather tricky subject to research due to its illegal and nefarious nature. It was a slow process that usually led to more dead ends than clues. 

The door to her office crashed open and she jumped out of her chair, half expecting to see a band of Aurors coming for her.

“Granger, just the witch we were looking for,” Blaise announced, Theo trailing in behind him and shutting the door in Susan’s flustered face. 

“Convenient seeing as this is my office,” she retorted and settled back into her chair, pinning Theo with a telling look before nodding to the door. “That’s going to cost you.” 

“I’m aware,” he bit out, taking the empty seat on the other side of her desk next to Blaise.

He had made solid progress with her nurse since the day she gave him the hint on where to find her. Susan had even agreed to a couple dates which seemed to have gone well as she came to work the following day with ceaseless smiles.

“There’s something wrong with Draco,” Blaise stated.

She ignored the itch under her skin and the hair raising on the back of her neck. Her recent mental training coming in handy.

“Oh? I’m assuming you mean outside of his abrasive personality and lack of basic manners?” 

“Hermione…” Theo chimed in seriously. 

She sighed. “What makes you think there is something wrong with him?”

The two of them looked at each other before turning back to her. 

“He’s been different since the accident, fidgety almost, but he won’t tell us anything,” Blaise explained. Apart from the small admonishment in Draco’s defense, one of the men in front of her had yet to share any concern for their friend. 

“Are either of you experiencing any lingering effects?”

Blaise shook his head while Theo neglected to answer. 

“It’s been getting worse… we know you know what happened or what is happening to him.” Blaise accused.

“Well then you most likely also know that I cannot tell you anything.” She answered Blaise but her gaze remained on Theo. He looked away guiltily. 

“Hermione,”

She stopped the plea with a hand in the air.

“You both must know that I was made to sign a strict non-disclosure agreement regarding my treatment of any Malfoy family member. Even if I hadn’t signed, it would be a breach of my own Healer-Patient confidentiality principles. Unless he is in need of immediate medical attention or I am requested to give my professional opinion, I am afraid I can’t be of any assistance to you.” 

“Is that not what we are asking you for… your professional opinion?” At her silence he continued, “he had to go and pick you, didn’t he?” Blaise grumbled getting up from his chair to pace across the room.

Hermione froze and finally looked at the complaining man in her office. “Pick me? What do you mean ‘he had to pick me’?”

“The one person in the entire world who can’t be bought or blackmailed,” the Slytherin ranted in annoyance as if he didn’t hear her. 

Theo remained seated and kept his eyes down as he picked at one of his fingernails. “He requested you after it happened, before he passed out.”

There was no way that was possible. Especially not after the reaction he’d had when he found out that she had healed him. Okay, maybe it had been how she healed him but still… there was no way he would have asked for her. 

“No,” she denied. 

“I believe his exact words were ‘Get Granger’,” Theo spoke again. 

Her shock lasted all of thirty seconds before anger flooded in. “That insufferable arsehole!”

Blaise quit pacing and a smile returned to Theo’s face. 

For weeks she had been chastising herself for the way she saved him. And then further reprimanding herself for feeling guilty for doing her job, for doing what was asked of her. It had been a cyclical torment ever since she had left the hospital. To top it all off, he had been her torment for weeks. The fact that she found him attractive still irked her and even worse was the fact that all she could think about how close to kissing him she had been. Twenty-eight days and she could still feel his breath on her lips and his fingers pulling her hair as if it were yesterday.

“He requests my help and then he has the audacity to make me feel like I wronged him in doing so,” she seethed. “The only person that can help him, apart from a possible trip to the psych ward, is himself. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I have patients that are waiting for my care.” 

“He means well, Granger,” Blaise exclaimed before she could reach the door. “He just has a tendency to botch expressing himself.”

“Blaise, I have met a wide array of nonverbal creatures and a handful of ghosts that express themselves better than he does,” she countered. 

She was pipping mad for the remainder of her workday. Stewing while at her obligatory monthly dinner at the Weasley’s. Was finally beginning to simmer as she readied for bed, making sure to take her time brushing her teeth so her gums wouldn’t recede from the pressure. Almost on the brink of calm as she waited for sleep to pull her under. Blissful…

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Hermione shot up in her bed. The sudden movement tossing a disgruntled Crookshanks to the floor. Disoriented, she sat there for a minute trying to decipher where the pounding had come from.

Bang. Bang.

She frowned as she moved down the hallway toward her front door where the sound was coming from, stopping halfway to return to her room for her wand, and then starting in that direction again. Everyone that knew about her muggle entryway either came in through the floo when not accompanied by her or were in fact muggle and would not be thumping her door so aggressively at, she glanced at the clock on her mantle, one in the morning. 

Hermione looked through the peephole but saw no one on the stairs. She raised her wand in front of her, ready to cast, before pulling the door open.

She opened her mouth to send a stunning spell at the black blob that barreled toward her, knocking her back, but kept it from trickling out when she noticed the familiar white-blonde hair spilling out of the cloak’s hood. Her anger from earlier in the day came flooding back and she instantly regretted not following through with the hex.

“Malfoy, what are you-,” his horrific wheezing cut her off, “oh, Godric,” she finished when she caught sight of his face. 

He had blood trailing down from the corners of both eyes. The crimson tears were a stark contrast to his grossly pale skin. It reminded her of how sickly he had looked when he had taken the Mark during sixth year. She then comprehended that he hadn’t been charging at her initially, more so collapsing because the door he had been using to prop himself up was no longer there.

Tucking one arm around his back and shouldering most of his weight, she hobbled with him to the nearest surface she could lay him down on. They were a few steps away when his knees buckled, and she was forced to let go of her hold on him. 

“Just,” -gasp-, “a second,” -cough. Blood dripped from his lips to her rug while he tried to catch his breath. 

Hermione pulled at his hips impatiently, encouraging him to crawl up on the couch. He made it up and then immediately molded into the cushions as if he no longer had control over his muscles. She hurried to retrieve her wand from where it fell when he slammed into her by the doorway, accio-ing her bag from the office upstairs.

“How long have you been like this?” She questioned, unable to keep the frustration from her voice. Catching and batting away medical items as they flew at her from the bag that had appeared on the floor next to the couch.

He attempted a shrug, “Does it-,” -wheeze-, “matter?”

“How. Long.” She demanded while using her wand to slice at the layers of robes covering his arm.

“What-,” a series of coughs that led to more blood splatter fell from his lips, “what… are you… wearing?”

Hermione looked down to find her muggle pajamas, a tank top and pair of small sleep shorts, very much askew from her struggle to get him to the couch. She adjusted a few things but never stopped her casting of diagnostics panels. He was deflecting.

“Draco.”

“Yesterday,” the confession fell from him in between rattling breaths. 

“You reckless,” she settled into the corner of the couch, “unreasonable,” and pulled at his body until he was laying back against her.

“Granger, s-s-stop,” he groaned and tried to sit up but was too weak. His back once again rested on her front as she cradled him against her.

“…foolish boy.” She ended her rant as she pushed the needle into the vein located in the crook of his arm. 

He tensed and she pressed her cheek against his to keep him from wiggling. Moving as quickly as possible to do the same to her arm and connecting them by the tubing as she had the last time. 

“It is your fault that it has to be like this,” her words were low and hushed, her face sticking to his from the sweat and blood beaded there, “I can’t risk collapsing again because there is no one here to look after us this time.”

She allowed her blood to flow to him more slowly compared to when he was in the hospital.  He wasn’t on the precipice of death like before, but he had been well on his way due to the long delay for transfusion since the onset of symptoms. The anti-flow reversal spell was placed and then Hermione’s eyes went to the panels hovering in front of them to monitor his vitals.

“Man,” he murmured weakly after a while. 

“Hmm?” She hummed in response, pulling her face away from his and squirming so she was sitting up more. 

Draco’s head fell to rest on her shoulder, lips ghosting against the space between her neck and shoulder when he spoke, “Reckless, unreasonable, foolish man.” 

A grin pulled her mouth up. Leave it to him to be offended by the least insulting word she had used. 

“If only you behaved like one…” she murmured, sounding sleepy.

He reached across his body with the arm that was free of the iv, fingers gliding over her wrist where his aunt’s artwork remained, to her elbow. Effectively leaving goosebumps in their wake. He reached where the needle was placed in her arm and gently pulled it out, pressing his fingers to the area to keep her from bleeding from the tiny hole. He then reached for her wand and was somehow able to summon two blood-replenishing potions. 

“Drink.” Was all he said as he relaxed against her body.

She did as instructed, too mentally and now physically exhausted to argue with him. She felt better after consuming them but still felt frail just as she had the first time she had given him her blood.

Of all the questions that began swirling in her head; why did you request me, why did you wait so long to get blood, why do you care if I’m careful and too trusting, why don’t your friends know about your condition? The only one that managed to make it out was: “Why did my wand just work for you?”

She felt a puff of air dance against the delicate skin of her neck as if he were laughing. “I thought you were meant to be the brightest witch of our age?”

Hermione glared down at him at the same time that he glanced up at her. 

The dullness of his eyes was wrong. Her attention was pulled away from them though, seeing instead the forgotten blood splotches covering the majority of his skin. A towel and small bowl of water appeared at her side after a snap of her fingers, she wet the cloth and began washing his face, relieved to see that he was regaining a normal color underneath.

“Your wand is linked with your magic,” he said letting his eyes fall closed as she worked, “your magic is in your blood…”

Duh. If she could’ve smacked her forehead with her hand, she would have. He was full of her blood, her magic, so her wand recognized and accepted him.

She said nothing in response. Just continued cleaning the sticky coagulated blood from his face, neck, and hands. 

By the time she was finished, Draco had fallen asleep. 

He looked so peaceful with soft breaths rolling out of him, so different than the normally harsh and infuriating wizard she knew. Hermione unconsciously brushed and smoothed strands of hair from his forehead. Continuing the motion even after the hair was out of the way. The soothing touch had him nuzzling further into her. She was frightened by the thought of how pleasant his company would be if he were like this all the time. She wondered how he would react if he could see them right now, how anyone that knew him would react if they saw them like this. Not that she could or would tell anyone, but they would never believe her. Hell, the man on top of her might not even believe her.

She was lulled to sleep by his blanketing warmth and steady breathing. 

When she woke, the sun was shining brightly through the windows and she could not remember ever feeling so relaxed and calm and content, which was regrettably short lived when she recognized that she was not in her bed and the events from the night before came crashing through her mind.

They had shifted in sleep and were far from the position they had started in. 

She was fully horizontal instead of reclined and Draco’s back was no longer against her. Instead, he was laying was mostly on top of her, his abdomen and lower body resting between her legs while his head used her stomach as a pillow. His right arm was tucked against her side and his left hand was gripping her hip beneath his chin. She very carefully removed her hand from his robes where it had been cupping the back of his head.

Hermione would have stayed like that all day if she could have... Something about it felt so comforting, so right, a place that all her past relationships, including the one with Ron, had failed to reach. But the need to use the loo coupled with the sudden crippling anxiety of facing Draco’s reaction to their extremely intimate sleeping arrangement had her wiggling out from underneath him. 

Surprisingly, she managed to remove herself from the couch without waking him. Only one hairy moment when he released a muffled grunt of protest and his fingers tightened on her waist as if to keep her there. Her stomach clenched. She kept going once he settled.

She gasped when she caught her reflection in the large mirror hanging in her bathroom. Her hair was untamed, there was a faded layer of blood on her cheek from when it was pressed to Draco’s, her tank top was crooked allowing one nipple to hang out, and her shorts were so wrinkled they almost looked like oversized underwear from how much skin they were showing. 

She fixed what she could and padded to her room to put on more appropriate attire for what she knew she needed to do.

Her patronus swam around her as she called out, “Narcissa Malfoy.”

The otter dashed off in a wisp of blue light.

She returned to the living room, resting on the arm of the sofa, letting herself look down at the unguarded man that usually inspired a wide array of violent emotions from her, and yet the only one she could currently conjure was one typically reserved for those closest to her. She wanted to lean over and run her fingers through his hair again but thought better of it and stayed put. She had gotten caught up in the chaos of his situation, this fairytale version of him wasn’t real. 

No more than a minute later, Narcissa entered her living room in a gust of green flames through the floo. Hermione had added her and Draco to the list of allowed guests before sending the patronus.

“Ms. Granger, thank you for your message,” the woman sang approaching the sofa and observing her son. “And I’m assuming thanks are also in order for your repeated donation.” 

Hermione nodded. “Should there be a next time, I would greatly prefer to not wait until the last minute.”

Their voices were just above a whisper. Loud enough to be audible yet quiet enough to not wake Draco.

“Believe me, it was not my intention to do so.”

The simple sentence told her basically everything she needed to know about last night apart from one detail. 

“How did he find me here?”

“Ms. Granger, may I be honest with you?” Narcissa returned. 

“Please do.”

“My son’s job is researching and locating things that were never meant to be found, he is quite good at it.” She paused as Draco stirred momentarily. “While your charms and enchantments are brilliant, and enough to keep any ordinary witch or wizard from locating you, they are not as strong as you believe them to be. Especially to someone who is used to overcoming such barriers. Someone like Draco. Who only pushes harder when he faces an obstacle.”

“He could’ve just owled.”

A soft laugh fell from the woman’s lips, “That would have been more practical, yes. But as I’m sure you are aware; men are not the most sensible when it comes to ego and control, and especially true for the Malfoy men. Which is fortunate or unfortunate depending on how you look at it.”

The two of them were silent as they watched the man in front of them sleep peacefully on her worn sofa. 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t woken up yet,” she said on whim. Finding it nice to have someone to talk freely with about him for once. “Last time he had the strength to apparate within minutes.”

“I found him passed out on the floor in the Manor foyer after returning from the hospital. He slept for a full day before waking again.” Narcissa informed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” She burst before clapping a hand over her mouth. Draco thankfully remained unconscious albeit sporting a frown that hadn’t been there moments ago. 

“There was a note next to him, he forbade me from calling on you again.” She answered through clenched teeth, and Hermione could tell the two of them had quarreled many times about her and her involvement in his life. “How are you feeling?” She then questioned, changing the subject and giving her a once over.

“Fine, mostly. The blood-replenishing potions help but I still feel physically drained for a few days after.”

“We are truly grateful for you, Hermione,” Narcissa said turning to face her fully.

“I’m not sure he would agree with that,” she said sarcastically, swallowing down the hurt and anger from his previous reactions.

Narcissa grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Draco is stubborn, like his father, like all Blacks and Malfoys before him, but he does in fact feel things very deeply. Although he may not express his gratitude freely, he would never dream of insulting you or the sacrifice you have made for him.”

She almost cackled and then she realized the witch beside her was being serious.

“Narcissa, all he does is insult me.” 

“Then I’m afraid you’re not really hearing him, dear.” The cryptic answer was paired with mischievous eyes. “Tula!”

Thwap.

“Hello a’misses and Hermione Granger.”

“Hello, Tula,” she greeted warmly, mind still spiraling from Narcissa’s last statement.

“Tula, please see Mr. Malfoy to his room at the Manor and ensure that he gets the rest he needs.” His mother directed.

“Of course, rights away!”

Tula took hold of Draco’s sleeve and then two of them vanished. Something felt off once he was gone, like there was something missing. She wrinkled her nose at how nauseating that thought had been and summed it up to her blood loss.

“Ms. Granger?” Narcissa’s honeyed voice called from next to the fireplace. “Start listening to him.”

The green flames enveloped her before Hermione could respond. 

What did that even mean?

She was enjoying a reflective afternoon tea the next day when an incessant knocking disturbed her short-lived peace. She opened the door only to be pushed aside by two bodies as they welcomed themselves in.

“Draco’s just told us… Granger, are you mad?” Blaise ranted pacing her small living space.

“Sure, come on in,” she grumbled while they just barged in like they owned the place. “How do you lot keep finding me?”

“Was it supposed to be difficult?” Theo questioned, sinking into the chair across from the couch. 

“Yes,” she said through her teeth. It would seem that it was time for her to learn some new spells.

“Would the two of you stay focused, please! I’m all for a little dabble into the dark and mysterious but what they’re doing is criminal. As in they may receive The Kiss if anyone finds out.” 

Blaise wasn’t entirely wrong. She had done some studying in the last two months... Not only was blood sharing taboo even among the ranks of Pure-bloods, more so between different blood classes, it was also illegal. More specifically, using another witch or wizard’s blood for personal gain or to source life was illegal. The giver’s consent did not matter and the punishment for both parties was unclear. The only clause was for Vampires. Which was wild to her considering how much muggles relied on blood transfusions.

“Draco is going to kill us when he finds out we came here,” Theo stated in a bored tone. Clearly not as fazed by the fact that his friend had contracted a deadly curse and had violated at least two major laws by surviving off her blood. 

Hermione was once again reminded that Theo had been acting strange and began analyzing their interactions since the accident.

“Yes,” Draco drawled arriving in a mass of emerald flames. “He is.” 

“Do the three of you seriously see no problem with showing up to and entering my house unannounced and uninvited?”

“No.” The three of them growled in unison.

“But you take issue with me giving him blood so that he doesn’t die!?”

“Yes.” Again, in perfectly clipped harmony minus one voice. Theo’s. 

She threw her hands up and folded herself into the couch in exasperation, “Delusional, the lot of you!”

Hermione eyed Theo, he once again avoided looking at her directly. She opened her mouth to question him but the fireplace roared to life for the second time and deposited Ginny next to Draco. She promptly gave up on having a tranquil afternoon of recovery.

“Seems I missed an invitation,” Ginny said glancing between the Slytherins and her.

“You’re not going to scold her for just showing up?” Theo tossed out eagerly.

Ginny beat her to a response.

“My presence is always welcome, Theodore. After everything I’ve heard from Susan, I’m not surprised that yours isn’t.” 

Hermione winced, leave it to Ginny to find a raw wound and rub it with whatever would sting the most.

“Weasley, if you wouldn’t mind coming back later…” Blaise suggested.

Her friend scoffed, “I very much would mind. Why don’t you come back later.”

“It’s a life-or-death situation.”

“Bit melodramatic don’t ya think?”

She sat quietly and watched the two of them spar before drawing her suspicious eyes back to Theo who now resembled a puppy that had been kicked and over to Draco finding him scowling at the wall behind her.

“Don’t confuse me for Theo.” 

Theo grunted, “Easy, brother. I have no problem airing out your inadequacies.”

“If it’s such a dire situation,” Ginny continued, ignoring their side conversation, “why are you in her flat and not upstairs in the clinic?”

Three sets of eyes fell on her. Wonderful. Now she would have to fortify BOTH entrances to her home.

“Right,” Hermione had had enough, “I think I’ve had my fill of company for the day. Out.” She emphasized by pointing at the fireplace.

When no one moved she rolled her eyes, the motion leaving her suspiciously light-headed and the room momentarily blurry. 

“She was talking to you,” Ginny chirped.

“We’re not company, we’re patients. She was talking to you,” Blaise disputed.

“I was talking to all of you.”

She was met with a chorus of: “But we’re not done!”, “I just got here!”, “For fucks sake.”, and “Perfect.” 

Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples as the headache began spreading behind her orbits.

“You heard her,” Draco’s clear voice sounded. “Out.”

She raised her lids to find him gripping Theo and Blaise by the collar of their robes and shoving them in the direction of the front door. He narrowed his eyes at Ginny as she made no move to exit. 

“Do I need to need to have a word with the Prophet about what I discovered you and Potter doing the night of my birthday?”

She’d never seen her friend go from ghostly white in embarrassment to red hot in anger so quickly. Whatever he had on her must’ve been good. The pain increased steadily, forcing her to lay her head back on top of the cushion behind her.

“You wouldn’t,” Gin exclaimed.

“He would.” Theo called from the door before shutting it with a click.

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

“If that was meant to hurt my feelings, you’re going to be extremely disappointed to learn that I don’t have them.” 

“I hope you know I’m going to make it my personal mission to make your life hell now.”

“Already there, Weaslette.” 

Hermione heard the crackle of flames signaling Ginny’s departure and then heavenly silence.

“If you’re going to give me another lecture about being ‘careful’ or scold me for giving you my blood again, can we just count this as the entire conversation and call it good?” She said to the room, she didn’t have to open her eyes to know that he had lingered there. 

“You really do need better wards here…”

“Malfoy.” She warned.

“What do you need?” He uttered, soft yet firm with determination.

“Quiet… and to be alone.”

“No, tell me what you need to fix whatever’s ailing you.”

“Malfoy,” she practically begged. Her head felt like it was splitting in two and arguing with him was only making it worse.

“Granger,” he sang back to her, his voice sounding a lot closer than before. 

She cracked an eye open and immediately regretted it when the previously enjoyable sunlight felt like needles being pushed in her skull. He had been closer though, squatting down in front of her like a concerned parent.

“White plastic bottle behind the mirror in my bathroom. Bring the brown one next to it as well and a glass of water.”

The rattle of pills alerted her to his return. 

“How many?”

“Four from the white, two from the brown.” 

His cool hand grabbed hers, turning it over and nudging her fingers open as he dropped the aspirin and iron supplements into her palm. She pushed them on her tongue preparing to reach out for the water, but she felt the edge of the smooth glass press against her bottom lip before she could even raise her arm. She swallowed as it tipped toward her depositing the liquid in. 

The sofa dipped under his weight causing her body to roll into him. He gently fixed her head so that it was resting on his shoulder.

“How long does it take before it kicks in?”

“Thirty minutes minimum.” 

“What do they do?” 

“Draco…” she half whispered half whined. Forgoing formalities while doing her absolute best not to curl up in a ball and throw up. 

“Sorry,” He whispered in return. 

Seconds blurred to minutes causing her to lose track of time. When the pain began to dull enough for her to breath evenly, she spoke. “The white bottle is pain relievers; they numb the headache. The brown is iron, it helps with the anemia causing the headache.”

“And the anemia is from…?” 

She sighed, “A temporary side effect from the transfusion.”

He stiffened. “I see.”

Hermione felt her displacement as he shifted away from her, he was careful not to let her flop over but was noticeably eager to leave her side. Very similar to how she had been the previous morning with him.

“It’s time to abandon your schoolgirl charms and enchantments, Granger. Place some wards like a real witch.”

Ah so they were back to normal. When she opened her eyes, he was gone.