As It Happened
The next week during the new moon, they'd agreed to meet in the Room of Requirement.
Well, she'd assumed he'd agreed. She sent Malfoy an owl, explaining where and when the ritual would be taking place with no response.
Regardless, Hermione prepared everything. Drawing runes of salt to form a large circle, bordered by lit candles. The book lay open in the centre of the circle, a large goblet on one side and an athame on the other. Two floor cushions bordered the other two sides, Hermione seated herself on the side facing the text.
Right on time, Malfoy entered the room, barely even looking at her as he took in the scene before him. His hair was slightly askew, as if he had been raking his hands through it for most of the day, odd strands falling over his eyes.
"Lets get this over with", he simmered as he flexed and unflexed his fists repeatedly.
She nodded.
"Take off your shirt."
His eyes widened in bewilderment when he finally noticed she was only clad in stockings, a skirt and a low cut black bra.
"What-"
"We have to draw runes on each other's chests", she clarified.
With a rough shake of his head, he ripped his white oxford shirt from his shoulders and threw it into the corner of the room, leaving him in just fitted black trousers.
She gestured for him to sit on the cushion across from her.
He did so begrudgingly, careful not to let his gaze slip below her chin.
"Now what?"
She gestured to the open page of the book.
"We must read this incantation, then using the knife, cut each other's-"
"A knife? Why not just use magic?", he interrupted.
"I'm following the instructions to the letter, and it specifically requests an athame. Like you said, it's dangerous if we don't perform this correctly."
"Can't believe I'm doing this", he mumbled under his breath.
She ignored him.
"As I was saying, I will cut each of your palms, and you'll allow the blood to drip into the goblet. You will do the same to me. We will then press our hands together as we recite this incantation three times. We will then use the blood on our hands to draw this rune on each other's chests. Then we recite the final incantation once, before each taking a sip from the goblet. Completing the ritual."
"Did you pick the most complicated ritual on purpose Granger?", he asked, tone accusatory.
She rolled her eyes.
"No, this was actually the most straightforward of them all."
He raked a hand over his face.
"Lets just do this before I change my mind."
She nodded, pointing to the first incantation.
Tibi praebeo fontem divinum.
Sanguis meus. Spiritum meum. Me esse.
I offer to thee my divine source.
My blood. My breath. My being.
They recited the incantation in unison before Hermione picked up the blade. She held her palm face-up, gesturing for him to do the same.
With an arched brow he offered his hand. She held it in place before pressing the sharpened point to his skin, looking to him in question.
Last chance to back out.
He gave a terse nod, expression guarded.
She slid the blade along the crease of his lifeline as smoothly and as cleanly as possible. She tried to be as gentle as she could whilst slicing deep enough for sufficient blood flow.
He didn't flinch.
When the blood pooled she signalled for his other hand and proceeded to do the same.
She then held the goblet as he squeezed the droplets into the cup, the crimson ribbons dripping down in a gush. She was worried she'd cut too deep, but they needed consistent blood flow to complete the rest of the ritual.
When the cup was a quarter full, she offered him the handle of the knife. He took it unceremoniously, grabbing her outstretched hands and slicing her palms quickly and efficiently.
She winced slightly before dangling them over the cup, watching the blood flow with morbid fascination. Once the goblet was half full, they lifted their hands and with awkward hesitation, interlaced their fingers.
Ligatus in sanguine
Ligatus in spiritum
Ligatus in esse
Bound in blood
Bound in breath
Bound in being
They recited the lines three times in unison.
She slowly moved her hands towards his chest, giving him plenty of warning as to what she was about to do. His expression remained unchanged as she placed a tentative hand on his chest. His icy stare stayed fixed on her as she smeared the fresh blood welling from her palms across his pectorals. She ignored how solid he felt against her palms, and the way her wet blood looked glistening against his skin. She vaguely noted the pale, raised skin of his sectumsempra scars. He hadn't glamoured them, and with a large dash of guilt, she thought there was a horrific beauty to them amongst his otherwise perfect flesh.
Glancing at the faded page of the book, she mimicked the rune displayed as best she could.
Satisfied with her effort, she gave him a nod.
With a reluctant grimace, he did the same. His large, smooth hands nearly covered the entirety of her width, the light touch of his fingers almost causing her to shiver. He seemed to do everything in his power not to graze the soft swell of her breasts, it was bordering on ridiculous given how large the rune was.
She rolled her eyes but stayed silent.
His hands felt warm and soothing against her racing heart. She couldn't help notice that he had chosen to forego the thick silver rings he usually donned.
Smart.
Once he finished, they recited the final incantation.
Sanguis, Spiritus, Entis.
Tuus, Mea, Nostrum.
Divinum Fontem,
Simul Ut Unum.
Blood, Breath, Being.
Yours, Mine, Ours.
The Divine Source,
Together As One.
After a beat, she raised the goblet to her lips, keeping her gaze level with his as she swallowed a generous mouthful.
Metallic, sweet, bitter and an otherworldly flavour she couldn't describe swirled across her tongue. She felt the rune on her chest vibrate with warmth as she handed him the cup with trembling bloody hands.
He gave her a hard look, begrudgingly accepting his fate before downing the rest of the blood in one foul swoop. His head was thrown back, throat bobbing as he swallowed.
When he placed the chalice down between them, she noticed a singular drop of blood falling from the side of his mouth.
"What now Granger?", he asked hoarsely.
She wasn't sure. She didn't feel any different, but the ritual was complete according to the text.
She opened her mouth to respond when a wave of dizziness came crashing over her. The warmth in her chest exploded across her entire body, feeling as if she was burning from the inside out.
A strangled gasp escaped her lips as a sharp ringing burst inside her ear drum. Malfoy's voice faded away until she abruptly heard him shout in agony. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out his pale silhouette, him clutching at his arm as if he wanted to rip it off. The arm with the dark mark.
She tried to reach for him, but her body became lead. She could feel herself falling, eventually meeting the sweet abyss of unconsciousness.
When she came to, she was lying on her back, still in the Room of Requirement. A cold sheen of sweat covered her body as she breathed in harshly.
She glanced towards Malfoy, who was curled up on his side, cradling his marked arm.
She cleared her throat, mouth dry.
"Malfoy", she rasped.
His eyes shot open with a start.
"What did you do?", he whispered, eyes almost black with anger.
"What-"
"My arm was burning. I nearly cut the fucking thing off", he spat.
His tone would have been venomous if he wasn't so hoarse.
She sat up slowly, still feeling the effects of the ritual.
"I don't know, I-"
She rubbed her eyes, trying to get her bearings. She didn't feel like how she did after the solo rituals. She'd felt instantly invigorated and powerful. This time, it was akin to an intense hangover.
She looked back at Malfoy who was making an effort to sit up, still holding his arm carefully.
"Maybe it was the mark", she thought aloud.
"Pardon?"
She cleared her throat.
"Your mark. I don't know, maybe it intensified the dark magic of the ritual..."
"You didn't think to look that up before we did this?!", he spat with disbelief.
Hermione threw her hands up, exasperated.
"Well it doesn't say anywhere in the book 'beware, do not perform ritual if marked by an evil wizard'".
They argued back and forth for a while, until eventually Malfoy stormed out, shirt half hanging off his tall frame.
The days went on after and they hadn't spoken a word to each other. Hermione even made a point of not looking in his direction, as he had requested.
She assumed the ritual hadn't been successful, as she still felt depleted of energy. In fact, the more time went on, the worse she felt. She had no appetite; her sleep was restless and a horrible gnawing sensation beneath her skin felt like fire ants trying to burrow into her veins. Her mouth and throat were constantly dry, but water wasn't cutting it.
She almost considered going to the infirmary, but what could she say? 'I've been dabbling in blood magic and tried to perform a dangerous ritual with Draco fucking Malfoy?' Unlikely.
Five days had passed and she felt like death warmed up. She sat at the Gryffindor table for dinner while Ron lectured Harry over an illegal quidditch move. Their voices felt like nails on a chalk board. She went to pick up a glass of water when the trembling in her hands started. She quickly pulled them back underneath the table before anyone saw.
Her gaze happened to glance over at a certain Slytherine table across the hall, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if he felt as bad as she did.
"If I hadn't pulled that move, the Slytherine fucker would have taken us both down with him."
Hermione's ears pricked as she caught the tail end of Ron's rant.
"What happened?", she croaked.
Ron glanced at her. "At the game today-...where were you by the way?"
Shit. The quidditch game. She'd been trying to catch up on sleep while the dorms were empty.
"I wasn't feeling well, sorry."
Ron gave her a concerned smile.
"Oh that's okay. You've seemed a bit under the weather lately-"
"So what happened?", she interrupted, getting him back on topic.
"Oh, well anyway, as I was saying... Malfoy was riding his broom as if he'd just downed three bottles of fire whiskey. I've never seen him like that on the pitch before. But anyway, the git crashes right into me, pulling my broom down with him. I had to headbutt the fucker just to keep airborne before he fell."
Her eyes widened. "What?! He fell?"
"Yeah, broke his arm. Possible concussion. That's probably due to Ron though", Harry quipped.
"If I didn't knock him, it would have been both of us in the infirmary", he said defensively.
Hermione stood abruptly from the table to leave, ignoring the dizziness in her head.
"Excuse me."
"Oi Mione, where are you going?", she heard Ron call after her.
"Uh library", she mumbled before making a beeline to the infirmary.
She figured with everyone at dinner that surely he wouldn't have any visitors.
Her theory proved correct. A first year Gryffindor with a broken leg was in the first cot. She gave a small nod before making her way to the end of the room. The rest of the cots were empty except for the last, finding Malfoy behind a privacy screen. He was seated upright in bed, arm in a sling, forehead and wrist bandaged. His eyes were closed, plate full of food discarded beside him.
He looked as terrible as she felt, and not just because of his injuries.
His eyes were cradled by sunken dark circles, cheekbones sharp and gaunt, the pallor of his skin a sickly grey.
She quietly sat in the chair beside the cot, unsure why she even came. Even if he was experiencing the same symptoms as she was, what could she do?
His voice jolted her from her thoughts.
"Granger, what the fuck do you want?", he said weakly as his eyes raked over her.
She looked up to meet his bloodshot gaze.
"I wanted to see how you're fairing."
He groaned. "How do you think I'm fairing? Look at me."
"I know, I-...I want to try and help. Help us both."
He scoffed. "Haven't you done enough?"
She sighed, bringing her fingertips to her temples. She didn't know what to say or do. She didn't have an answer. The book provided nothing in a way of answers. Usually when blood magic rituals and spells went wrong, the spellcaster's died.
Was that what this was? A slow death?
Her head slumped forward as she tried to think of something. Anything.
Her gaze landed on his unbroken arm closest to her, a large stain of red bleeding through the bandage on his wrist.
"Malfoy your arm..."
He let out a snort. "Which one?"
"Your wrist- it's...", she paused, watching the scarlet grow more vibrant. With no thought she grabbed his wrist and brought it closer to her.
"Ow", he winced with no bite, too exhausted to care it seemed.
She traced the lining of the bandage, gently pulling and unwrapping the material until the deep laceration below his dark mark was visible. The skin had been deeply punctured by something sharp, a branch or debris of some kind perhaps. The tendons and flesh were slowly trying to reknit, but the blood wasn't clotting, preventing the magical healing process.
"Take a picture Granger."
She hadn't realised how close his wrist was to her face and she didn't care. Her eyes were transfixed on the blood seeping out of the wound. She could smell it too, the metallic sweetness causing her mouth to fill with saliva.
"Granger what are you-"
Before she could register exactly what she was doing, her tongue darted out of its' own accord, licking the blood that had dripped down his forearm and wrist.
He hissed, attempting to pull his arm away to no avail.
"What the fu-"
A deep moan fell from her throat as the flavour hit her tongue. It was different from when she'd sipped it from the goblet days before. The flavour was deeper, richer, and humming with a life-giving force she couldn't name. It was like feeling the sun warm her bones on a cold morning. Or waking up from the best sleep of her life.
"I feel better already", she whispered, momentarily forgetting Malfoy was even there.
Her eyes were shut in bliss, her mouth slightly agape.
She felt Malfoy squirm in her grip.
"It's the blood Malfoy. We need the blood. It makes everything better...", she mumbled in a daze, acting and speaking purely from instinct.
"I don't-"
"More...", she rasped before covering the open wound completely with her mouth.
She felt him jolt and shake against her mouth as she sucked the crimson fluid from his wrist. She heard a moan escape his lips as his body began to relax with each suck of her mouth.
The taste, the feeling...it was all she knew in that moment. All she wanted to know. Her frayed nerves were soothed, the aches and pains beneath her skin eased, her thirst quenched, her mind and body clear and revitalised...
This was the answer.
When she finally felt sated, she pulled away, feeling similarly to when she did after the solo blood rituals she'd performed. Except this feeling was magnified by a thousand percent. She had never felt better. More alive.
She glanced at Malfoy's face in afterthought. His expression was serene but his colouring had worsened, his cool grey eyes almost glazed over.
Pulling out her wand, she murmured under her breath to reveal a bright slit across her own wrist. She didn't even think before bringing it to Malfoy's parted lips.
"Malfoy drink. It'll make everything better I promise."
A garbled noise came from his throat but still no movement. She pressed her wrist further against his lips, smearing red over his mouth and chin.
Finally, his eyes shot awake, his mouth latching onto her in desperation. The sound he made was one of intense relief as he pulled deep drawls of blood from her wrist. His warm mouth on her skin sucking the blood from her veins caused little tendrils of euphoria within her, only adding to her already blissed out state.
When he was done, she noticed the wound on his wrist had all but nearly healed, and the bones in his broken arm had grown back substantially. His cheeks were flushed with life and his eyes sparkled with clarity. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip slowly, as if to savour the taste.
"Better?", she asked, her voice surprisingly husky.
He smirked like the cat that got the cream.
"Better."