Chapter 4
Narcissa had petrified Lucius it turned out as he was now on the floor motionless. Pansy and Blaise stepped through the fireplace after Theo and made their way to Draco who was still standing, looking at Hermione on the floor.
Blaise put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Someone needs to heal her,” he said in a calm even voice.
Draco nodded, some of his white hair falling in his eye-line. “I’ll do it,” he said and moved towards her.
Pansy was over in the corner talking to Narcissa, asking her questions when she saw Draco move to Hermione’s side.
“What are you doing?” She asked suddenly, too loudly for the stillness that had crept over the room.
Draco, who had fallen to his knees in a pool of Hermione’s blood looked up at her. It was clear he had disturbed her rest because her hair was sticking up slightly on the left side and there wasn’t a fleck of makeup or magic on her face. “She needs to be healed,” he explained, his tone flat, his voice like ice.
Pansy removed her hand from Narcissa’s and stormed over to him. “Yes, by a healer, not you!” Pansy moved to get to Hermione only to be pushed down by Draco.
“No one touches her but me!”
Pansy glared at him. “Who trained under Pomfrey? Who nursed us all back to health after we went through the cruciatus training? Who is the only one here who has any idea about the female fucking anatomy?”
Theo, who had not taken his eyes off the very dead Bellatrix piped in then. “She’s right, mate. We have a few other things to worry about.” Draco looked at his Aunt Bella. Dead. By his hand. He couldn’t bring himself to feel it.
“Wormtail is in the dungeons with Potter and Weasley,” Narcissa interjected. “He needs to be dealt with and so do the prisoners.”
Theo put his hands over his eyes as if that would save him. “Merlin’s ball sack, please tell me the chosen one is not in your bloody dungeon.”
“Watch that language, Mr. Nott,” Narcissa chided. “I can keep them all confined down there without much issue, but they can not stay there forever.”
“We can deal with them later. Right now, Drake, let Parkinson deal with Granger and we can deal with,” Blaise’s voice drifted off. Bella. They needed to deal with Bella.
Draco looked at his mother then. He couldn’t see any of Aunt Bella in her other than the Black Family eyes. Grey like a storm. “Mother, I,” he started, but she waved a delicate hand.
“Not now, just, carry her to the other room for me please.” She couldn’t look in her sister’s direction, or her son’s for that matter. Draco, with the help of Blaise, levitated Bellatrix’s body out of the ballroom and into his father’s study. She lay on the Persian rug, Hermione’s blood leaking from her clothes.
Draco could feel the cold wetness of it on his own knees. Sticky and slick all at once.
“She was breathing when I left the room,” Draco began, not really talking to Blaise. “She was breathing. Tell me she will be breathing when I get back.” His tired grey eyes met Blaise’s tired brown ones.
Blaise could see the purple and blue bruising under his friend’s eyes. None of them had been getting enough sleep and Draco was never one to sleep when she was in danger.
“Granger will be fine,” Blaise breathed. He wanted to get as far away from the dead witch as possible. “Come on, Pansy is probably scaring your house elves by now.” Blaise put a hand on Draco’s shoulder and guided him out of the room a little more forcefully than necessary.
As they made their way back into the ballroom, Draco couldn’t see Granger. Pansy was kneeling over her so fully, and she seemed so small at that moment that she was completely blocked from sight.
As he moved closer he saw a small magical display with runes around it, hovering over Granger’s chest.
“Well?” Draco demanded. He looked at Hermione. Breathing. She was breathing. He could see the rise and fall of her chest and when Pansy bent towards her, her breath moved the short black hair. She was breathing normally.
“I’ve sedated her and it looks like not too much damage was done. She did have three broken ribs but those were child’s play. The only worrisome thing is that word on her arm.” Pansy motioned to Hermione’s bloodstained arm without looking at it.
Draco gazed down at it. The skin looked purple with bruises and the wound itself was a mix of dark red blood, green ooze, and black scabs forming at the edge. He took a closer look. Mudblood was spelled in gagged cuts on her arm, exactly where his dark mark was on his own arm.
“Poison?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
Pansy nodded, her black bob moving, sticking to the back of her neck. “I got most of it out, but the blade, it was, there are options on how to do this Draco.”
“What do you mean?”
Pansy took a deep breath, checking something near Hermione’s stomach. “I mean, I stopped the poison from moving, but if it stays in her, she will rot from the inside out.”
“Then take out the poison,” Draco ground out through clenched teeth.
“I need magic to do that and if I do, I will have to heal the wound at the same time to keep her from bleeding out, which means it will scar.” She looked up at Draco then. “It will magically scar. There will be no way to get it off her arm.”
Draco shook his head. “No. Not happening. What is the other option?”
“I can take off the whole arm,” Pansy said it with so much clinical detachment Draco almost hit her.
“I can’t, I can’t make that decision. You’re asking me to disfigure her!”
Narcissa came to put a hand on his shoulder, he swung around, eyes filled with tears.
“It’s not your choice to make,” his mother said calmly. “It’s her’s.”
Draco laughed, cruel and humorless. “Parkinson will not be making any decisions about my… about Granger.”
“She meant Hermione. It’s Hermione’s choice.”
Draco whorled on Pansy again. “She should not be the one to…”
“It’s her fucking body!” Pansy yelled. “It’s her body. You will let her make this choice for herself or I swear Draco, I bloody swear in front of your mother I will remove your hands and tongue with a slicing charm so exact that you will never be able to cast any spell ever again, let alone touch or speak to her.”
Draco waved a hand and summoned a chair that he fell into, legs outstretched before him. “Fine.”
Pansy moved her wand over Hermione’s head and whispered a few healing spells.
Draco leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he witnessed Hermione’s eyes blink open, first with confusion and then fear.
“Hey hey, it’s alright Granger, just friendly old snakes here, yeah?” Pansy tried to soothe.
“Parkinson?” Granger asked, her voice hoarse from screaming. “What are you…?”
Her voice trailed off as her golden eyes met the storm that was Draco’s.
“I’m here to help okay? I needed you awake to answer a question.” Pansy drew Hermione’s attention back to her.
Hermione nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Bellatrix cut into your arm, do you remember that?” Pansy asked cautiously. Hermione nodded again, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Okay, the blade was poisoned. I have two options. I can take out the poison magically and close the wound, but there will be a magical scar, or I can take the whole arm and be done with it.”
“Why would you take my whole arm? How bad is the wound?”
Pansy hesitated for a moment. “She cut a word into your arm,” she explained in a hushed tone.
“Mudblood,” Hermione said. It wasn’t a question, but Pansy nodded in confirmation anyway. Hermione sniffed, choosing to look at the ceiling and nowhere else. “Heal my arm. I need my arm, Parkinson.”
Pansy nodded. “This is going to hurt, do you want to be put back to sleep?”
Hermione turned her head to face Pansy again. “Don’t. Don’t put me back under please.” Her voice shook then and Draco tore his eyes away from the scene in front of him.
“Draco take your father out of here,” Pansy said suddenly.
“Like hell.”
Pansy looked over her shoulder at him. “She does not want to be out for this.”
“I heard her.”
Pansy breathed heavily through her nose, her nostrils flaring. “I will not have you interfering with this.”
“I’m not going anywhere!”
Hermione met his eyes again. “Will you hold my hand?”
Draco’s face softened at the request. He practically fell out of the chair to clammer across the floor to her. Crawling to her. “Of course.” He grabbed her hand in his own.
“Why are you so cold?” She asked suddenly.
Draco looked at Pansy who was working through some runes around Granger’s arm. A small hiss escaped the girl’s lips. He looked back down at her face, blood matting her hair.
“I always run a little cold Granger.” He smiled a little, wanting to distract her. “Us snakes are cold-blooded.”
She tore her gold-flecked eyes away from him and back to her arm. “That hurts Parkensin,” she breathed through her teeth.
“Pansy,” Draco nearly growled in warning.
Pansy ignored him. “I know. It’s gonna hurt for a little while.”
A pained groan built in her throat and she shut her eyes. “Bloody hell, this hurts more than her carving it into me.”
Draco gripped her hand tighter and brought it to his lips. “I got you Granger. You can make it through this.”
“Narcissa, can you get ditany for her arm?” Pansy asked, still focused on her arm.
Hermione coughed a little, blood slipping out from her lips. “In my bag.”
Narcissa had already left the room to fetch the potion.
Theo rushed back in, running a hand through his chestnut curls. “Wormtail is dead!” he cried as he came in. His eyes hit the image of the three teens on the floor and he cursed. “Oh hell. Why is she awake?” He asked rushing over to them all.
“She wanted to be. Now do us all a favor and go with Blaise to make sure no one from downstairs bothers us,” Pansy said through clenched teeth. There was a gleam of sweat on her brow and some of her bangs were sticking to her forehead.
Draco watched Theo grab Blaise from his position on the wall and drag him from the room. Blaise looked ashin and shaken and it was best if he wasn’t here anymore.