Chapter 20
Hermione and Draco had retreated to Ravenclaw tower immediately. Specifically, Draco’s dormitory. He had handed her a towel and some pyjamas and insisted that Dean wouldn’t be back anytime tonight.
As she ducked into a bathroom that was much cleaner than hers, she saw a telltale sweeping wand movement. Protective wards. She smiled at the characteristic neuroticism, though her hands still shook as she turned the tap for the hot water. It was nice being the most relaxed one for once.
Not that she would call herself at all relaxed. Ginny knew. Ginny knew and she was going to tell Harry and Ron. Ginny knew and she was going to hate her. Ginny knew and she wasn’t going to understand. Would she even give her a chance to explain? Or would she go to McGonagall and tell her Hermione must be under some sort of dark enchantment and needed to be rescued immediately? Had she only left to gather reinforcements, unconvinced she could take both of them on her own? Was she outside right now with an army?
Hermione sank to the floor of the shower, trying to steady her breaths. Trying to focus on the caress of tiny rivers flowing down her back and not on how the world was falling apart around her. She could feel Ginny as an almost physical presence, pressing in on her from every direction. They couldn’t hide here for long, they would be found. They needed to-
THUD THUD THUD.
Hermione jolted, slipping and knocking her elbow on the tile as Draco’s voice came muffled through the door and steam. “Hermione? It’s been a while. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine!” she called.
“Do you need anything?”
“No, no, I’ll be out in a minute.” She could feel him stressing from here. And frankly, she wouldn’t mind having him where she could see him either. She bid a sad goodbye to the numbing heat of the water before stepping out of the shower and donning the over-large pyjamas Draco had given her. A weak smile forced its way to her face at the slip of quality silk against her skin. Posh bastard.
When she emerged from the bathroom in a plume of steam and frizz, she found him similarly clad. “Are you alright?” he asked again. Hermione nodded.
“Which wards have you got up? It was a good idea, but we shouldn’t stay here. She’ll find us soon enough. We should go back to-”
“Hermione…”
“-our room. The castle’s magic is much more powerful than anything we could-”
“Hermione. Don’t. I see what you’re doing.”
She eyed him quizzically.
“We’re not fighting her. This isn’t war. We don’t need a strategy.”
“Then why put the wards up?”
“In case Dean does decide to show up for once. That’s one more person to add to the equation, and I’m assuming you don’t want to deal with that right now.”
Hermione let out a burst of near-hysterical laughter. “One more person? One more person? She’s going to tell everyone, Draco. Everyone who matters, anyway.” Hermione’s eyes started to prick and she felt heavy under the weight of her own spine. If she couldn’t strategise, couldn’t think, then she could only feel and that was absolutely not what she wanted.
Draco took her hand and led her to a bed, sitting her down and kneeling in front of her, hands clasped in his. “I can’t promise you it’s going to be okay, but I can promise you that no matter what happens, you won’t be alone.”
The words hit Hermione right in the chest and she doubled over, pulling herself closer to Draco. “I’ve already lost my parents, Draco. I can’t lose Harry and Ron. I can’t I can’t I can’t-”
“Shh…” he cooed, pulling himself onto the bed to wrap his arms around her. “You won’t. Not if you don’t want to. If you want me to put on the old evil Slytherin hat and make up some nonsense, I can. We can still finish the Essence. You can still get your parents back.”
“W-what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you need me to take the fall, I will. If you need me to let you go, I-”
“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” Hermione pulled away, grabbing his unreasonably pretty face and forcing his eyes to hers. “If you think for a single second that I am going to let you break up with me over some rubbish noble sentiment then you have got another thing coming. Honestly, what are you, a Gryffindor?”
He laughed at this, and something in Hermione’s soul began to settle. “Not even a little bit. My motivations are entirely selfish.”
“How is that selfish?”
His eyes darkened. “I couldn’t live with myself, knowing what I’d taken away from you. Not if you weren’t entirely sure.”
Hermione shook him. “Stop this nonsense. You’re starting to sound like Harry.” Draco looked physically pained at this, scrunching up his nose like it’d been assaulted by a bad smell. “We both knew from the start what we were getting into. What about your family? How is your mother going to react to her potential grandchildren’s blood being sullied by mine?”
“Hermione… I told my mother ages ago.”
“What?”
“Just after Christmas. We weren’t even together then. I just… there was an entire bottle of brandy involved and she asked why I’d been so antsy and I...”
“You what?”
“… I asked what she’d do if I was hypothetically in love with a muggleborn.”
Hermione froze. In love? Wait…
“She’s not stupid. Immediately I got ‘it’s the Granger girl, isn’t it?’ since apparently I used to talk about you all the time – which I didn’t, by the way,” he spluttered, face steadily reddening as he went on. “But the point is it was fine. She said that blood purity is out of fashion anyway, and that my happiness matters more and that she was excited to meet you and then I had to explain how we weren’t actually together and I was just a pining mess-”
“Draco.” He stopped in his tracks, looking grateful for the excuse. “What did you mean, hypothetically in love?”
“Oh… well… that…” Hermione’s heart beat a frantic rhythm in her ears. “Well, shit. This is probably the least romantic way I could have done this. I kept trying to find the time but there were always… I mean there are still other things going on but I mean I guess now you know so-”
“Draco, spit it out.”
“I love you.” The words tumbled out, pushing past each other in a race to the front. They hit her like the smell of rain in the morning, surging into her lungs and washing her clean.
“I love you, too.” Equally unstoppable. She hadn’t even known what was coming out of her mouth until it was there, hovering between the two of them like moisture in the air. She had barely known it was inside of her, curled up somewhere she’d been refusing to look for fear that once she let it settle in her mind she’d be bound to Draco irrevocably. Looking into his eyes now, a wide and hopeful grey sky, she realised she already had been.
“A-are you sure?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Are you sure?”
#####
“You know I am. I… I love you. Merlin’s beard I can say that now.” And then Draco was kissing her, hand gripping her hair and pulling in a way that made Hermione’s head spin. He was desperate, almost falling into her as he pulled her closer to him. I love you, I love you repeated like a mantra between bruising kisses. When he pulled her head back to move his lips to her pulse point instead, she could finally reply.
“I love you…” she whispered to a starry ceiling. “I love you…” she breathed as he sucked bruises into her neck, desperate, possessive. As his hands left her hair to fumble at her top button, he all but growled in frustration.
Oh God.
Her head released, Hermione got to watch as Draco reached a hand out behind him, wand flying from the bedside table into his waiting palm, and with a quick, sure slash of it undid the buttons on her shirt. His hands palmed her breasts as his mouth continued its downwards journey and Hermione threw her head back, overcome by the heat under her skin and surety of Draco’s hands and mouth on it. His thumbs brushed her nipples as his mouth reached her stomach and Hermione couldn’t help the noise that escaped her, couldn’t help the way her legs spread automatically. All she could think was please, please…
“Please…” Draco whined, looking up at her through his lashes, lips reddened and eyes desperate as he trailed his hands down to her hips. Hermione nodded, no idea what she was even agreeing to, but feeling like she’d go crazy if she didn’t get it.
And then Draco was pulling down the oversized shorts and Hermione squeaked. He stopped immediately, eyes finding hers. “We don’t have to-”
“Don’t. Don’t stop… I was just surprised.”
“Are you sure?”
Hermione nodded, not having the time or desire to overthink anything when Draco was looking at her with pupils blown wide and need was burning and throbbing inside her.
Hermione clutched onto the sheets for dear life as Draco’s hands parted her thighs and he nuzzled his face into one, nipping gently at the skin and sending shocks through Hermione’s nervous system. When he put his mouth on her, she gasped at the wet heat of it, too shocked for a second to even process the feeling, but then Draco’s tongue was moving over her in that sure, solid way that he always had and Hermione melted into it. She fell back onto the pillows as the tension seeped out of her and she relished in the pressure and friction.
The tension came back in another form, though, as Draco’s tongue continued its ministrations. There was almost a greed about it, the way he lapped at her and clutched her thighs. He wanted this. The thought made Hermione’s head spin and a vague, distant part of her marvelled at the strangeness of it. Draco Malfoy, who had grown up probably bleeding money and power, with his head between her legs, tongue desperate to taste her. Hermione felt almost high on the power trip.
And then he found a rhythm – slow and punishing – that had her almost blacking out. She moaned as she pushed into his mouth, grabbing his hair to pull him closer as she chased the feeling. His fingers dug bruises into her thighs as his tongue brought her higher, and higher, and higher…
And then Hermione was coming with a choked gasp, spine shaking through it as she held onto Draco like a life rope. Breathing heavily, she fell back into the pillows, glowing through the aftershocks.
Draco moved reluctantly away from her heat then, burying his face in the skin of her inner thigh and kissing it with something like reverence.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Hermione just laughed in response, bathing in the feeling of being stripped bare and sated and safe. She felt Draco smile against her skin, and carded her fingers absently through his hair. All was well.
After a while, Draco pulled himself up, taking her into his arms and turning her so that her head was buried in the crook of his neck. He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair as Hermione trailed her fingers absentmindedly over the silk on his chest. She stretched out, half asleep already, and felt-
Oh.
Draco stiffened as her leg brushed against the hardness between his legs.
“Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m so tired I completely forg- I’m sorry, I could- Do you want me to-”
“Hermione, it’s fine. You don’t have to do anything if you’re tired.”
“I’m not too tired. I just… I’ve never…”
“I’m aware, Hermione,” he said, fond smile clear in his voice. “You seriously don’t have to-”
“Shut up,” Hermione said, pulling herself away and down, so that her face was level with…
Oh God. Was she doing this? She was doing this.
“Umm…” she said after several seconds of awkward silence. “What exactly do I…?”
When she forced herself to look up at Draco, his eyes were almost black, looking mesmerised and desperate and somehow she got the message that he wasn’t going to be fussy at all. So while he tried to splutter out a response, Hermione moved her hand over his length through the shorts, pressing down hard.
Draco’s eyes rolled back and his torso convulsed into an arch when she reached the tip. Taking that as her cue, she gripped it harder, moving her thumb over the underside. Draco’s hand flew to his mouth in an effort to quiet the sounds that were starting to come out of it. Pleased with what she’d uncovered, Hermione pulled Draco’s shorts down, letting the fabric trail over the throbbing length of him. Jesus Christ… It was very… there. Forcing herself not to be intimidated, she gripped it in one hand, bringing her mouth to that same spot on the tip and licking.
Draco jolted upwards, the sound coming out of his mouth almost a sob. So she did it again, and again. The taste was… not ideal. No one had warned her about that bit. It was salty and musky and not altogether pleasant but the sounds coming out of Draco made it worth it in spades. When he had adjusted somewhat, she wrapped her whole mouth around the tip, tongue still lapping over the tiny slit in it. Draco’s hips started to move up to meet her of their own accord. A hand grasped uselessly at the duvet before he gave up and balled it into a fist. Hermione had other ideas, grabbing it and unfurling his fingers, threading them into her hair as she looked up at his flushed face. His eyes darked, and he pulled himself slightly off the pillows to look down at what she was doing to him, gripping her hair possessively.
Giving up almost immediately on getting the whole thing into her mouth, Hermione continued to suck and lap at the tip while stroking him hard and slow with her hand. Draco was a wreak, breaths coming in ragged gasps and gripping her hair like it was the last thing tethering him to this earth.
“Hermione I- Fuck I’m going to-” He was cut off by his own groan of pleasure as he came in her mouth. Hermione stayed put, forcing herself to ignore the unpleasant taste as she stroked him through it. Salty. Slimy. It didn’t matter. It was Draco. And this was just one more way he could be hers.
The thought tugged at something deep and primal in Hermione’s brain, and without thinking, she swallowed around the head of Draco’s cock.
“Fuck, Hermione- Merlin… I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
She shut him up by licking at the underside of his cock and over the expanse of his stomach, catching what she’d missed. Hers.
#####
Draco was silent for long enough that Hermione worried she’d done something wrong. Lifting her gaze to face him, though, she saw his eyes fixed on her with that same look from before, and before she knew it she was on her back and he was kissing her deeply, whispering praise and reverence into the space between breaths. Hermione laughed with relief, with joy, with hope. Maybe everything would be okay. It was hard to believe it wouldn’t when she was so thoroughly blissed out, with Draco’s arms around her, telling her I love you I love you I love you.
The best part, though, was the way Draco softened as she answered. I love you I love you I love you. Or maybe the best part was their heads on the same pillow, limbs tangled up in each other skin on skin as they drifted off to sleep. Or maybe the best part was the knowledge somewhere deep in the fabric of her that this was it, this was her forever.
***
Morning came like a heatwave, creeping up on their cocoon and saturating them in sweat. Hermione pulled her head up blearily, unsticking her skin from Draco’s and kicking the duvet off her. The trademark Ravenclaw tower sunshine stabbed and bit at her eyes from the open curtains across the room. As she reached over Draco for her wand, he woke with a jolt, eyes wide and panicked for a second before they found her.
“M-morning,” she managed through a yawn.
“Morning,” he said, face softening and pulling her back down to him. Hermione made a displeased noise into his chest, and after some fumbling he managed to charm the curtains closed. Hermione nuzzled into his neck and kissed it.
“What do you fancy for breakfast?” he asked.
Hermione groaned. “I fancy never needing to leave this tower again.” Reality had caught up to her already, and she was hyperaware of the presence of Ginny somewhere in the castle. “I’m not that hungry, actually.”
“Nonsense. I’ll go get something and bring it up.”
“What? No!” Hermione shot up to a sitting position. “You can’t go alone. I’ll go with you.” Images of Draco being torn apart by Ginny’s patented bat-bogeys flooded her brain, and she jumped out of bed, pulling her borrowed pyjamas back on.
Draco sighed as he changed into everyday clothes. “No one’s going to attack me in the middle of the Great Hall, Hermione. As foolhardy as your friends are, that’s just not-”
BANG!
A wave of magic burnt white hot around the room from floor to ceiling. Hermione had her wand in hand immediately, and turned to the door just fast enough to see Harry, some furious, red curse emerging from his wand.
Draco dived behind a bed, shirt still unbuttoned. The curse blasted a post clear off, its remains fizzing into oblivion a second later.
“Harry, NO!” Hermione screamed, but he wasn’t listening. Ron was behind him, and didn’t even spare her a look before vanishing the bed concealing Draco. A wandless Draco.
Hermione cast a hasty protego just in time, red light bouncing off the blue.
“Hermione! Stay out of this!” said Ron as he launched another spell at Draco. Hermione jumped over the bed to where Draco’s wand lay on the side table, throwing it to him with a yell, then casting another shield charm.
Just in time. The spell bounced harmlessly off the shield as Draco scrambled to his feet, wand aloft and firing a spell at Ron. Ron dodged, and Hermione quickly lost track of everything in the chaos. It was heat and light and noise and hate and panic and she didn’t know what to do.
“Stupef-“ Red- fizzle-
“Protego!” Whoosh.
Red- heat- “Bombar-”
“-ncendio!” heat heat heat-
“-carcerous-” white- BANG- whoosh-
“EXPELLIARMUS!”
The clink of Draco’s wand on stone cut through it all, and Hermione’s brain cleared, converging on a single, solid truth that zapped through the nerves in her wand arm, moving of its own accord to Harry. NO.
A flood of white light shot out from her wand, pushing her hair back like a gust of wind. There was no thought but that one clear word. NO. NO. NO.
But Harry was faster. His shield came up not a moment too soon and suddenly a wave of magic was crashing over Hermione, burning her, freezing her, drowning her. She screamed as she felt the magic burrow under her skin, a thousand little knives of her own making digging into her bones. It hurt it hurt it HURT. White. PAIN. White. WHITE.
Black.
***
Hermione came to in a fog of soreness and seafoam green.
“-entirely your doing and you bloody well know it, Potter! If you hadn’t-”
“If you hadn’t decided to target Hermione we wouldn’t be-”
“Target her? Target her? What kind of-”
“I know exactly what kind of person you are, Malfoy! You’re not fooling anybody!”
“You insufferable moron, you-”
“Back off, Malfoy!” Ron’s voice joined the fray, and Hermione tried in vain to sit up. The knives came back immediately, tearing at her insides. She gasped for breath as the agony hit her and heard the familiar harried click of Madame Pomphrey’s shoes rushing towards her.
The other voices were silent as the green was pulled back to reveal the nurse, panicked look on her face as she cast quick diagnostics over Hermione.
“What’s wrong with her?” Draco’s whole and unbruised face came into view and Hermione could have cried with relief. Then Harry. Then Ron. Both looking fearfully at Madame Pomphrey. Draco’s eyes scanned the diagnostics, hands gripping the side of her cot and leaning unsteadily.
“I didn’t know an hour ago and I don’t know now, boys, so stop asking me. She’s stable, but she’s in a lot of pain and I won’t have you lot causing her any stress. Out!”
“No!”
“Not going to happen.”
“Come off it!”
The voices all blended together in a cacophony of displeasure.
“H-Harry…” Hermione managed to whisper through the haze of pain, “Ron… don’t you- don’t you dare…” Breathe. Breathe, Hermione- “hurt…”
Black.
***
Hermione woke to less pain, and more diagnostics flashing and whirling above her. She blinked blearily as the sensations flooded her all over again. Stabbing. White hot. Everywhere. She groaned, which didn’t help in the slightest.
“Miss Granger? Can you hear me?” said a dark-haired wizard in lime green robes. St. Mungo’s robes. Wait- was she…? No. The yellowed plaster on the ceiling confirmed she was still in the Hogwarts infirmary. She nodded once, wincing with the movement.
“Alright, I’m going to need you to follow my wand with your eyes…”
Hermione followed the healer’s instructions numbly, forcing all her focus onto the exercises and away from the burning under her skin. After much too long, the healer walked away.
There was a jolt of movement to her right and her splitting head snapped to it, heart in her throat.
“Hermione?” Draco asked, eyes heavy with sleep but wide and focused entirely on her. “Are you alright?”
“Hurts…” she managed weakly, using the last of her strength to reach for him. She hoped he understood the message. Don’t leave me. I need you. I need to protect you.
Whether or not he understood, he took her hand in his, and she tried not to wince as his thumb trailed over her red-raw nerves. She failed.
Black.
***
Days passed with much of the same. Draco was by her side whenever she woke, looking increasingly terrible. Ginny visited often, as did Padma and Sue who were staying for the holidays. Harry and Ron came when they could, mostly to yell at Draco and then Madame Pomphrey when she tried to kick them out.
Over time, she woke more often. The pain eased. And then she could sit up. When she asked what was wrong with her, Draco explained that she’d managed to cast and be hit by some non-existent curse, but was, “Responding well to generic treatment, thankMerlin.”
Her short conversations with Harry and Ron were exhausting.
“You know you can’t trust him, Hermione. We don’t know what he’s up to yet, but we’re working on it.”
“He’s not up to anything, Harry, for Merlin’s sake…”
“Please, Hermione,” Ron would whine. “We can’t let him hurt you, we’re a team. We have to look out for each other.”
Draco was always there, refusing to leave her side, stony and silent. He would glare at her friends and say nothing.
Within a week, Hermione was sleeping normal hours, the pain only a phantom twinge when she moved too fast. She was sitting up and reading in her cot, Draco annotating a textbook beside her, when Ginny, Harry and Ron walked in, arms laden with food.
Hermione couldn’t help the smile that rose on her face when she saw them – it reminded her so much of old times. Ron revealing the treasure trove of sweets Mrs Weasley had sent to share. The twins returning triumphant from the kitchens full of food for some party or another.
Draco stiffened beside her, reminding her that the past might be further away than it felt. Might be unreachable now.
“Morning, Hermione!” Ron said. “Thought you might like something exciting to eat for once.”
Hermione closed her book immediately, setting her tray table on the bed.
“Ron! Thank you! Although I just had breakfast an-”
“Well, it’s brunch then!” Her three old friends piled the plates of bacon, eggs, hash browns, waffles and pancakes as well as a flagon of pumpkin juice onto her tray. It was loud and overwhelming and far too much for the four of them to get through. Hermione beamed.
Harry conjured four glasses and passed them around. Draco shifted in his seat, book forgotten, face the icy mask he always wore when her friends were around. Pursing his lips, Harry reluctantly conjured another glass, eying him suspiciously the whole time.
Draco kept his face blank as he accepted. Ginny leaned back against the wall behind him as Ron reported to Hermione about the working conditions of the Hogwarts house elves in the kitchens. Filling each flagon with pumpkin juice, Harry turned the conversation to the whispers he’d been hearing at the Ministry of a new elf rights movement. Hermione was so excited she barely tasted anything she was putting in her mouth. No one was even throwing any barbs at Draco.
And then the other shoe dropped. Suddenly, all three of her friends were silent, eyes fixed on Draco. Something tense and coiled had saturated the air.
A quick glance from Harry to Ginny, a nod from Ginny, a squaring of Ron’s shoulders, and then-
“What are your intentions with Hermione?” Harry asked, eyes burning a hole into Draco.
“To marry her, ideally,” Draco said before clapping a hand over his mouth. Ron winced.
“Have you performed any dark magic on her over the course of this past year?”
“Of course not!”
“Do you have any intention of performing dark magic on her or otherwise harming her in the future?”
“Never!”
Draco was staring at his pumpkin juice in horror. The lines of his brow, his jaw, his mouth weren‘t right.
“Potter, what did you-”
“Why do you intend to marry her? What would you gain?”
“I love her!” it came out uncharacteristically loud, and both of Draco’s hands flew to his mouth. The pumpkin juice fell to the floor and shattered. Oh. Oh.
Harry and Ron were both silent for a moment, staring at Draco in horror as Ginny vanished the mess.
“You what?” Ron asked, fire crackling in his voice.
A muffled sound came from behind Draco’s hand-mask. Unmistakably three syllables. A smooth wave of Ginny’s wand pinned both hands behind his chair. Another tied them together.
“You what?” Harry repeated.
“I- I love her. Fuck! Shit! You won’t get away with this, Potter! You scrawny little hopelessly mediocre git! Except for Quidditch! You were always a better seeker than me and I hate you I hate you I hate you-”
“What have you been doing to help Hermione get her parents’ mem-”
“Harry, stop!” Hermione said. “This isn’t legal. You can’t just dose someone with veritaserum when they’re not even under arrest!”
“Stay out of this, Hermione. We’re trying to help you,” Ginny said, voice cold and eyes refusing to meet hers.
“You’re all useless! What did you even try? Nothing! After all she’s done keeping you two from blasting your own rear ends off-”
“What have you been doing to help Hermione get her parents’ memories back?” Harry repeated, as cool and composed as she’d ever seen him.
“I’m extracting her Essence!” It burst out of a blotchy-faced Draco like a dam breaking.
“Her what?”
“The E-Essence of her being.” Draco was curling into himself, turning his neck this way and that in an effort to stop the words coming out. “It’s being p-put into a potion and when her parents- d-drink it they should know her ag-” Letting all his breath out in a huff, Draco finally managed to cut himself off.
“You’re extracting her soul?!”
“Harry! Ron! Stop this! Where’s my wand? Madame Pomphrey!” Hermione called.
“No! Of course not! I’d never hurt her you specky imbecile!”
“As if you haven’t before!” Ron roared, standing to tower over a shaking Draco. “Who was the one who said you hoped she died next when the chamber of secrets opened? Who spent years calling her Mudbl-”
“Stop it! Stop it!” Hermione screamed.
“And you think I don’t regret that every single day? I could spend the rest of my life apologising to her and it would never be enough! I don’t deserve her and I’m well aware of that but whether you like it or not, Weaselby, she wants me and I am not going to deny her a single thing she wants for as long as I fucking live! Is that CLEAR?”
Harry, Ron and Ginny stared at Draco in open mouthed shock while Draco gasped for breath, face red and whole body shaking with rage that couldn’t be channelled.
“You want honesty? Really? You deserve her about as much as I do, Potter,” Draco spat. “Look at what she did for you. I’ve seen it, now. I’ve seen how much she sacrificed to go on that little quest with you. I saw how you abandoned her, Weasley – abandoned both of them – and then just expected her to welcome you back with open arms. You would both be dead without her and when she fails to restore her parents’ memories it’s ‘no big deal, we’re your family, Hermione’. You did nothing! Surely an orphan should know bett-”
Ron punched him straight in the nose.
Hermione yelled as she dived out her cot, grabbing onto the arm that Ron was drawing back for another hit. She held on against the pain exploding in her muscles.
“Don’t you DARE talk to Harry like that!” Ron roared, trying and failing to dislodge Hermione.
“What are you doing to her soul?” Harry said, voice cutting clear and crisp through the commotion.
“I’m not doing anything to her soul! It’s her Essence. It’s entirely different which you would know if you read anything more than cartoons, Potter!”
“You swear it’s not harming her?”
“I swear it on my bloody life! Now stop that freckly git from attacking me so she can lie down! She needs to REST!”
Just as the pain was overwhelming Hermione, a loud bang startled them all into silence, and she dropped from Ron’s arm into Draco’s lap as her head pounded.
“What the devil is going on here?” The shrill clip of Madame Pomphrey’s voice was music to Hermione’s ears. Ears that were burning. Her whole body was burning. “Out! OUT! The lot of you! I won’t have you in here anymore if all you’re going to do is cause her stress! This is powerful magic she’s healing from…”
Hermione zoned out as the furious nurse ushered out everyone but Draco, cleaning the mess of food and pumpkin juice on her sheets and untying Draco swiftly. Immediately he manoeuvred her back into her cot, tucking the covers over her and brushing her hair gently from her face.
“Why does he get to stay?” Ron said, fuming.
“Because Mr Malfoy does nothing but read and help administer her potions! Unlike you lot! You are NOT to come back here! You’ll see her when she’s well enough to walk!”
At that, Madame Pomphrey slammed the double doors in their faces, and rushed to Hermione, casting a quick diagnostic.
“Your magic is strained, but nothing serious thank heavens…” the nurse said as she perused the floating lights above Hermione. “Mr Malfoy, what happened?”
Draco couldn’t help it, the veritaserum still flowing through his veins. He spilt every detail of the interaction, looking horrified with himself the entire time.
“Veritaserum? Tsk, those boys! I think I have some antidote lying around, wait here.”
As soon as she was gone, Draco was fussing. Yes, she was alright, she reassured him at least seven times before Madame Pomphrey returned. Just drained. Very, very drained. Seconds after she had forced down yet another potion, she dropped into sleep like an anvil.