Aftermath....
A strangled gasp broke from her lips, as her eyes flitted open. Dark greens, and silver blurred in her eyes as she felt a burning sensation spread through her body, she was on fire, breaking, shattering, drowning, drifting. Her lungs and throat hurt the same way that they did when she was drowning during the Triwizard Tournament and panic surged through her just as thick and heavy as the pain.
Then something cold and bitter was sliding down her throat and she was sinking into the black, drowning, drowning, drowning.
-
-
-
Hushed voices although she can’t make out what they’re saying, floating around her consciousness teasing her with the possibility and promise before she floats away again.
-
-
-
-
“I’m so fucking mad at you, Hermione. He-” A strangled noise. “He fucking knows and he’s trying to fight the Ministry, making a proposition to them for you to come back to the Manor. He’s fighting for you. Fuck..”
Hermione tried to cling to the words, and although they were settling into her head she couldn’t quite place who was talking or the importance of what they were saying. Everything was foggy. Unclear.
“It’s not going to be denied…not now…The Dark Lord has his ways of allowing the things that he wants to and knowing that Lucius has spun this whole informant lie…”
Everything was black.
-
-
-
-
“I’m so fucking pissed at you, Granger. So fucking mad. You’re fucking impossible. Absolutely impossible. You fucking stunned me. Stunned me only for me to come to find out that Snape can’t fight with the Ministry without losing his position within Voldemort’s ranks. He can’t fucking fight for you. That…fucking man is trying to get you, trying to get his hands on you because you’re now suddenly valuable to him, you’re suddenly a pawn that he can use to get higher in ranks because of the lie my bloody father had to come up with to save your life. You fucked everything up, Granger…”
It was quiet and she was faintly aware of the brush of skin against her cheeks.
“Just wake up so you can scream at me again. Wake up so you can yell. Just please…” There was a stuttered gust of air across her cheeks. “Come back to me, Granger. So I can exact my revenge properly.”
-
-
-
-
Hermione felt like the troll from first year had landed his club in the center of her chest. Opening her eyes was worse, and her mind was hazy with bits and pieces of memories clicking together into a jumbled mess that didn’t make sense. Blurs and blobs cleared into her focus as she blinked at the greens and silvers that surrounded her.
She had gasped, bringing air into her ragged lungs and a fire spread out across her chest. A whimper broke her lips as she attempted to sit up. Everything hurt, and her chest felt like it was splitting open as she attempted to pull herself to a sitting position. She was sweating by the time that she managed to, resting her head against the headboard behind her. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the four poster bed that she was lying in. Silver threaded through the green blanket draped across her, but other than that it was rather bare. There was a closet, dark black peeked out at her and an armoire sat against the far wall. There were four photos on top, but she couldn’t see what they were. She glanced to the left, the doorway to a bathroom opened and the right was the wall that she knew led to hers with a fireplace against it. Her eyes landed on the wall that was suddenly open between the two rooms, as if forming a passage between what she knew was her room and his. Then, she gasped as her eyes landed on the photo next to his bed.
It was of her.
She was walking through the gardens, her fingertips brushing over a rose before leaning in to smell it, her hair cascading down her back as she leaned before standing up again and tilting her head to the sun, eyes closed. She looked so peaceful and she was staring at the loop when she heard the door open. There wasn’t even time for her to process the revelation before she heard the door opening and her eyes darted to it. Draco was stepping through, a hand over his face rubbing his eyes as he shut it behind him. His hand dropped to his side with a side before his eyes landed on her. For a moment she didn’t breathe and the burning in her lungs intensified. They hadn’t seen each other awake and in person since she had stunned him. How long ago had that been?
“D-. Draco.” He didn’t say anything, he was frozen standing at the end of the bed with his hands at his sides and eyes pinned onto her. His jaw was clenching and for a moment she thought that he was going to hex her right there in the bed. Her fingers found the edge of the blanket and she tore her gaze away from him and focused on the bed. “How long have I been here?”
Draco didn’t say anything, just walked silently to the side of the bed, slipping his wand from his hand. She flinched when he flicked it, and she saw his hand twitch. There was a flickering light above her that she recognized as a diagnostic and she wondered when he had learned how to cast and read one. After a moment he stalked away from the bed, yanking open a drawer before returning with two potions. When he got to her, his fingertips gilded underneath her chin, tilting her head up towards him. She stared at him, opening her mouth as he tipped the two potions into her mouth.
He stared at her, his fingertips gripping her chin before releasing her, stepping back to lean against the wall. His ankles were crossed in front of him and hands shoved into his pockets. He was glaring at the bed and Hermione wondered if he was going to yell at her. She deserved it. She wished that he would. She wanted to feel something other than the pain that was slowly dissipating from her ribcage.
“Draco?” He shook his head, white wisps falling into his eyes as he glared at the bed some more. She had never seen him like this and desperately wanted him to say something. He was pushing off of the bed just as the Sleeping Draught started to take hold and her eyelids drooped. Just as she was slipping back into unconsciousness she felt the cold press of his lips against her forehead.
-
-
-
-
When she woke up again it was Theo who was furiously checking the scans above her. He jumped as her eyelids opened, and she felt him freeze. “Theo?” It came out a croaked rasp and she winced. He scrambled suddenly, towards the same drawer that Draco had been in…yesterday? Earlier? Minutes? He was pulling two potions out, one that she recognized as a Sleeping Draught and she was shaking her head at him, pinching her lips together. “No. I’m not taking that again.”
“You have to heal.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring at the potions in his hand. “These at least make sure that you’re not doing anything else stupid so that you can.”
“No.”
“Hermione.”
“No.”
“Will you stop being so fucking stubborn and for once, do something that you’re told.”
“No.”
“Granger!”
“Theo!”
He was glaring at her, and she was panting out of anger, trying desperately to hide the wince across her face from the pain. He narrowed his blue eyes at her, brown hair falling into his face. He looked terrible, dark circles underneath his eyes that looked pinched and angry. He dropped the potions back into the drawer before cursing and yanking one of them back out again.
“Fine. No sleep potion but you’re taking pain relief, that’s no exception.” He was stalking towards her, unstopping the potion as he held it out to her. She pinched her lips together. She didn’t want to be under the influence of anything. She needed answers, desperate for information because she wasn’t sure of anything at the moment. Theo glared harder when she refused to take the potion. “Hermione.”
“I’m not in any pain at the moment, thank you though.”
“Oh, you’re not?”
“Nope.”
He reached forward quickly, gently poking her sternum with a finger and she bit her cheek hard enough to draw blood if only to keep the hiss from escaping her. Theo raised an eyebrow at her. “Really? Can’t feel a thing, can you?”
“Nope.” The word sounded strained, and came out more of a growl as she blinked the tears from her eyes. “Tell me, Theo. Tell me everything.”
Theo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You…you fucked everything up, Granger.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry that I got cursed, if I knew it was going to be this much trouble then I would’ve suggested just leaving me there.”
Theo’s head whipped back towards her so fast that his hair took a second to settle across his forehead. “Say something like that again and I won’t tell you a damn thing.” She pressed her lips together, glaring at the blanket.
“You went off to the fucking Ministry and Dolohov wound up casting a curse that made us have to regrow your entire sternum and a bit of your ribcage. Your lung was fucked and they had to fix that too. You have a rather nasty scar from what I’ve heard. Draco and I haven’t seen it of course but Narcissa has. Lucius risked his cover bringing you back here–.” He let out a breath through his teeth. “Our father managed to hitch a ride with Lucius and found out that you were his daughter. Now he’s fighting the Ministry for you after Lucius told him that he saved you because you have been relaying information back and forth from the Order to the Dark Lord. Now the Dark Lord wants to meet you and see where your allegiances lie, and our fucking father wants to take you home–no doubt to reap from the benefits of having an informant with information as valuable as you have to be inside of his home instead. Or maybe he wants to take revenge against our mother. Or maybe he might just want to kill you. Either way you fucked everything up and now Draco and I are so mad at you we can’t even look at you without wanting to hex you. And our fucking father is fighting to bring you back to the bloody Manor–.”
Theo broke off with a shuddering breath, glaring at the wall by the fireplace. “What do I need to do? To meet the Dark Lord, what do I need to do to prepare myself?”
His head snapped towards her. “No. No fucking way. You’re not going anywhere near him.”
“Theo, I–”
“I said NO Hermione.” Theo stood up quickly, throwing the stoppered potion onto the nightstand as he went, and slipped from the room. She stared after him for a moment before gritting her teeth together.
She would ask somebody who would answer her honestly. If meeting with Voldemort was what she had to do to keep her family safe–she would make sure she was the best damn informant that he ever had.
-
-
-
-
Hermione was resting in the hot bath, her eyelids drooping closed as she wondered how she was going to get answers out of Lucius. He would tell her what he needed to do. He understood the need to keep the people you loved safe. No matter the cost. He had saved her from the Ministry after all, in the middle of Death Eaters and crafted a story in order to keep his family safe. To keep her safe.
It had taken what seemed like hours for her to make it to the bathroom. She was a panting, sweating, shaky mess by the time that she had made it in there, and sat on the toilet seat for a while longer before mustering the courage and ability to strip and get into the tub. The tub was a whole other story. Any movement in the wrong way had her biting her lip in pain. The scar was horrid, a long and dark purple thing that settled in between her breasts. She was also sporting a slightly bloodied lip from where she had fallen forward on shaky legs when trying to remove her jeans and slammed it into the edge of the tub as she caught herself.
All of her energy had been used drawing herself a bath, climbing into it and even getting there in the first place that she didn’t bother to fix it. Theo’s words settled into her and she knew that it was all her fault. She hadn’t been paying attention–all focus on keeping Sirius from falling through a veil into what she guessed was the other side–because Harry didn’t deserve to lose another family member. She had also been aware that Lucius was casting protection spells against attacks on her and she was using defensive ones on the people around him because she didn’t want him to be noticed. Then she had to go and muck it all up by not being good enough to notice a bloody curse coming straight for her.
The idea of rinsing her hair was exhausting so she took a deep inhale and slipped underneath the water.
Her lungs started to burn, along with an ache in her chest before two hands were hauling her out with a rough gentleness and her eyes blinked open. Draco was staring at her, rage swirling in the depths of gray. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I happen to be taking a bath.” She inhaled a wheezy breath, pain scattering across her chest.
“Looked a lot like you were trying to drown yourself.” He basically spat the words at her, his eyes never leaving hers. She suddenly realized that she was naked, now with a huge scar across her chest and not enough bubbles in the tub for her to be comfortable with Draco in the room.
“Ah yes, well I figured the curse didn’t finish me off that I would do it myself in the Manor’s bathtub? Really, Draco? I was trying to rinse my hair. It hurts too much to raise my arms.” He was glaring at her, his jaw ticking as his Adams apple bobbed.
He leaned in close, his nose brushing hers. “Make another joke about your death, Hermione. I dare you.”
“Or what, Draco?” She glared at him, before sighing, a wince breaking across her features as she readjusted herself. All of her limbs were stiff, heavy from not being used in…how long? “How long has it been?”
“A month.”
“I’m sorry.” Draco huffed a laugh, and she realized that his hands were still on her shoulders, one of them lifting to tangle into her hair.
“What are you sorry about, Granger? Stunning me so that I can’t go with you? Forcing my father to make an impossible decision that puts you even more in danger in order to keep you alive? Making me wonder if you’re going to die in my bloody bed? Making Theo wonder if you’re going to die in his damn house?”
Hermione swallowed. “Yeah, that about covers it.”
“You…Fuck. Hermione I’m so damn mad at you. I can’t even fucking think straight. I–” He cut off, his fingertips massaging her scalp as her eyes drifted closed. “I thought that you weren’t going to wake up.” Hermione had never heard his voice laced with so much pain before and her eyes shot open to see his head dropped, fingers laced in her hair as he stood next to the bathtub.
She was twisting, holding her breath as pain shot through her. She was gripping the sides of the tub, trying to pull herself into a standing position even though every inch of her skin was burning in the process. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get up.” She was panting the words out, trying to pull herself forward.
“You’re naked, Hermione.”
“You’re going to see it all at some point, Draco. Don’t act shy now.” She honestly wasn’t sure where the sudden surge of bravery was coming from, but she had the overwhelming urge to just be in Draco’s arms, to have him hold her so that she couldn’t think about anything else. Except the pain of course, but that was only partially by choice.
Suddenly there were hands sliding under her armpits, lifting her from the water carefully and swinging her over the side of the tub. She was pressed against Draco’s chest, her bare chest soaking the front of his shirt before a robe was wrapped around her. “I refuse to let this be the first time that I see you naked, Granger.”
“Probably for your own good, I have a horrid scar now.” Draco stopped breathing under her and she peeked at him from under the towel that he had dropped over her head. He was glaring at her, gray eyes narrowed before she squealed as he carried her gently back to the room.
“Did you take a pain potion?”
“No.”
“Why not?” It was a growl.
“I didn’t want one.”
“Don’t act tough. You’re clearly in pain, Granger.”
“Yes, well, Theo tested that theory with a solid poke to the chest so unless you’re going to do the same thing then I suppose you’ll have to take my word that I am not in that bad of pain.”
“I will pour this potion down your throat.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Test me, Granger. There are a few things that I would do to ensure your safety.”
She threw her hands up, before yanking them back down to pull the robe over herself. “This isn’t about my safety, Draco. It’s about my pain which is perfectly manageable no matter how bad it is, thank you very much.”
He arched a brow at her. “So, you are in pain. You don’t have to manage it, you can just accept the damn potion.”
“No.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose, and she knew that he was almost done with the conversation. “They make me foggy and sleepy and I don’t want to be either.”
“You need the rest.”
“I’ve been resting for a month! I already have a grotesque scar. Are you really going to make me have legs like a chicken because I atrophy?”
Draco was raising an eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. She glared at him, trying desperately to fight the smile that was threatening to pull at the corner of her lips. Then he was stepping towards her, his face suddenly serious. “Can…can I see it?”
“What?”
“The scar.”
She inhaled sharply. “Why?”
“Because I want to see proof that something tried to kill Hermione Granger and failed.” His voice sounded revenant and she found herself nodding. Carefully he handed her a pair of his boxers, earning him a raised eyebrow and she slipped into them while he turned, and painfully slid a button up shirt on as she bit back the whimpers that escaped as she did. Draco froze every time one escaped. The buttons were left undone and she clutched the fabric over her chest as he turned back towards her. Careful to keep her breasts covered–a sudden shyness now since the bathtub–she opened the shirt enough to reveal her sternum and the ugly purple scar marring her skin.
Draco inhaled sharply, a pained noise in the back of his throat. She watched completely enraptured as he dropped to his knees in front of her, slowly, his hands coming to rest on her hips as he steadied her on the side of the bed. His hair brushed across her stomach, ticking the skin as he lifted his head. He was now eye level with her breasts that were covered and she felt herself flush, crimson painting across her chest and cheeks. The pads of his thumbs brushed against the sensitive skin on her hips as he held her steady. Slowly, he dipped his head forward, placing a trail of kisses to the scar and she gasped the moment his lips touched her skin. Her heart was squeezing inside of her chest when he was leaning back, silver eyes meeting hers.
“Still perfect.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her jaw. “Beautiful.” A kiss to her chin. “Alive.” To the corner of her mouth. “Mine.” And then he was pressing his lips to hers, his hands sliding along her flesh as his palms pressed into her back, holding her still as he ravished her mouth. Draco kissed her like a man who hadn’t been able to kiss somebody they loved in years. He stole all of the oxygen from her lungs and didn’t apologize for it. He kissed her softly, gently, and deeply enough for her to wonder if he had yanked her heart from her chest and held it in his own hands.
When he pulled back he mouthed something at her that she couldn’t understand through the fogginess that was now clouding her brain. And when his hands left her skin they left a burning more than the curse ever did.