She recast the protective spells. Then she studied the runes again, brushing her fingers near them. She could barely feel the magic in them. It had sunk in; become a part of him.
She could barely feel any Dark Magic around him at all. Not anymore. Not for weeks.
“Do you — feel the runes?” she asked. “Can you tell if they're affecting you?”
He seemed to be considering.
“Yes,” he said after a moment, straightening. “They don't countermand my own behavior, but it's as though new elements have been written in. It's easier to be ruthless. Somewhat harder to dissuade myself from impulses. Not that I had much distracting me before, but now everything else feels even less consequential.”
Hermione read the vow again.
“Did you know when he was cutting them which runes he was choosing?” she asked.
“I chose them,” he said, pulling his shirt up and rebuttoning it.
Hermione looked at him stunned.
“It was my penance. I already had to grovel. If I chose them I was able to ensure he wasn't going to insert anything problematic. That's why there are so many, I didn't want to leave any room for additional promises. He had to be convinced of my remorse,” he said as he stood up. His eyes reminded Hermione of a storm.
“Although,” he said, and his lip curled faintly, the rage in his eyes becoming obvious, “he failed to mention that they would take so long to heal until after the fact. In retrospect, I should have anticipated that additional punishment.”
“When I close them, it will take a while in order to ensure the scar tissue won't restrict your movement. You'll have to stay awake to tell me. You — may want to bring something to drink.”
Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he stared at Hermione for several seconds.
“I'm not going to drink around you, Granger.”
She shrugged.
“It's just a suggestion. I'll bring something in case you change your mind. But I imagine the alcohol I can afford is more inexpensive than you'll appreciate.”
He snorted.
“I'll keep it in mind.”
He vanished without another word.
The following night he was in a tetchy mood, and Hermione refrained from speaking to him as she treated him. However, she noticed that he had begun relaxing slightly into her touch. She doubted he was even conscious of it.
Hermione, for her part, had realised that she had grown comfortable with him. With the taint of Dark Magic no longer hanging about him, her instinctive fear had faded. She didn't hesitate to touch him, didn't experience any tingle of dread in her spine. She no longer tensed, bracing herself that he might lash out.
He felt familiar.
On Saturday, a soothing charm finally stuck to the incisions when she cast it and Draco shuddered significantly less when she cast the cleansing charm.
“The venom is finally gone,” she told him with relief. She summoned her satchel over and dug through it for an analgesic potion that she had developed. She drew some cloths out and, after placing a barrier spell on her hand so that it wouldn't go numb, poured the analgesic out until the fabric was drenched.
“This will feel cold and sting for a moment, but then it will numb the incisions,” she said. “I'm going to start on the top of your left shoulder.”
She rested her fingers just above the first rune for a second before she gently laid the cloth over his shoulder and lightly pressed it against the incisions underneath. He shivered.
She set a timer for the left shoulder and turned to attend the right.
“They shouldn't hurt now but they're still open wounds on your back,” she said. “Don't go do something stupid Iike getting into a fight with a werewolf just because you aren't in agonising pain anymore.”
“Will you sign off on my werewolf fighting Tuesday?” he asked in a snide voice.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“I'd advise giving the scar tissue at least three days to set before fighting any werewolves.”
He chuckled faintly.
The conversation stalled after that, but the evening ended on a surprisingly cordial note.
Hermione was in a somewhat cheerful mood when she apparated back to Grimmauld Place. As she landed on the steps, her bracelet suddenly grew red hot.
She flung the door open and found it in chaos. There was blood smeared across the floor.
“Hermione,” Neville shouted. “It's Ginny.”
Hermione bolted up the steps as quickly as she could, avoiding the blood spilled across the floor.
Harry, Ron and all the other resident Weasleys were there. Pomfrey and Padma were hovering over a bed where Ginny was lying.
“What happened?” she demanded, dropping her satchel and rushing over. Ginny was unconscious and had a large, ragged gash along her face. Blood was pouring from it.
“Necrosis curse hit her on the cheek,” Pomfrey said, between spells. “They cut it out as quick as they could, but we've never had anyone make it back after being struck in the head.”
“Padma! Blood replenishing potion!” Hermione barked as she cast her own spells. Brain damage was not one of Hermione's specialties. Normally when curses reached the brain the damage was beyond healing.