She conjured a bed and levitated him onto it. She only hesitated for a moment before she sat down on the edge beside him. Even unconscious, Draco looked tense. She reached out tentatively and touched his cheek. Then she brushed her fingertip between his eyes, trying to banish the stress from his expression.
She cast a spell to unbutton his robes and shirt and then, with a practiced partial-levitation charm, she pulled him up so that he was leaning against her and pushed all the clothing down off his shoulders and arms. His head dropped against her shoulder, and she couldn't help but notice the scarring from the runes. They had set well into silver scars across his shoulders. She ran her fingers lightly over them and felt the magic; cold and implacable. Carved into his being. The magic shivered faintly under her touch.
His skin was worryingly cool.
She eased him back down onto the bed and looked him over. He'd gotten bitten on his bicep, two deep punctures which were easily healed. The more serious issue was his torso which was mottled with deep bruising which Hermione suspected were from a close range Expulso hex, possibly from a skirmish with the Order that had occurred the night before. He had a gash on his side that looked to be several days old but had started bleeding again due to the vampire bite.
She summoned her satchel and pulled out her kit. She poured several potions down his throat and then set to repairing the injury in his side.
He was an idiot, and she felt cold with worry to realise he wasn't getting his injuries attended to. In the past he'd been in excellent physical condition when she'd healed him.
He had numerous scars on his arms and torso that hadn't been there before. She could tell by studying them that he had just ignored them and left them to heal on their own rather than going to a healer.
Perhaps he'd fired his previous healer after they had offered no relief for the runes. Even if the magic was obscure, no qualified healer could have been so ignorant as to pretend there were no options unless they'd been willfully negligent.
He'd
He was being intentionally careless.
Perhaps he was doing it to punish himself. If she was making him waver from his — atonement, or whatever it was. Hermione bit her lip. Perhaps he was intentionally neglecting his physical well-being in order to focus himself. Or — possibly, he was trying to test his limits.
She tried to not to dwell on that possibility.
She pulled out a bruise paste and spread it across his torso and then muttered charms over all his scars to help them heal and fade somewhat.
She cast another diagnostic and studied it carefully to make sure she hadn't overlooked any injuries.
Once she was sure there was nothing else to tend to she took his hand, entwined her fingers with his and then pressed the back of his hand against her cheek. Waiting as his skin slowly started to warm as the blood replenishing potion took affect.
She brushed his hair off his face and stared at him, tracing along his features with her eyes and watching colour slowly come back.
When he was undeniably warm she withdrew her hands away and cast cleaning charms on his clothing and redressed him. His robes had a taint of Dark Magic in them, as though it had become woven into the fabric.
She wavered over whether she should stay where she was or go across the room before rennervating him.
She stayed.
She'd barely finished speaking the spell before he sprang up, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her down onto the mattress before she could even scream with surprise. His hand stayed on her neck, and she could feel several of her hairpins stabbing into her skull as he pinned her down. His eyes were disoriented, but his expression was enraged. Their faces were mere centimeters apart.
She watched his expression ripple as he recognized her and realised he was on the verge of strangling her. His hold immediately loosened.
“What the fuck, Granger?” He glanced around them and looked more confused as he realised they were in a bed together.
She stared up at him, her heart pounding. It hadn't even occurred to her that he might attack her like that. “You were hurt.”
He jerked his hand away from her neck and his expression grew furious. “I nearly killed you. You meddling—“
She interrupted him. “It's possible you are somehow unaware, despite the fact that I have specifically told you, but vampire venom is an anticoagulant. You had some minor internal damage from the skirmish last night. You were bleeding to death inside and out.”
“I would have had it taken care of in due time,” he said, but his eyes didn't meet hers; they were lower, on her neck. His hand slid forward and she felt his thumb brush along her throat.