“No. I don't need anything except for my bones to finish growing so I can move.” Hermione wanted to explode with rage. She was going to kill Kreacher.
How had the Order overlooked such a horrific vulnerability? If Kreacher was willing to kidnap her out of Grimmauld Place at Draco's request, what else could Draco have used him for?
She lay there while her mind raced. She managed to twitch her fingers slightly and experimented with how much she could move.
Draco returned after an hour. His apparition was silent, but Hermione saw him immediately.
She could turn her head a bit. She studied him, looking for any sign that he might be injured. His expression was tense, but there was nothing that indicated he was hurt or had been crucio'd.
They stared at each other in silence.
“What happened to the healers you called here?” Hermione finally said. Her voice was ice-cold.
Draco's eyes flickered briefly. “Obliviated.”
“Really?”
“Two dead healers could raise questions,” Draco said with a shrug.
“So you would have killed them, but you didn't because you decided it wasn't worth the inconvenience?”
Draco's eyes flashed. “Yes, Granger, for convenience which, as you know, I have so abundantly in my life with my two mutually exclusive masters.”
Hermione felt the guilt catch in her throat. “I just — I don't want you to kill people because of me.”
Draco gave a barking laugh and appeared amused as he stared down at her. “What exactly is it that you think I do with all my time? I kill people. I order other people to kill people. I train people to kill people. I sabotage and undermine people so that they will be killed, and I do it all because of you. Every word. Every spell. Because of you.”
Hermione flinched and gave a low gasp as though she'd been struck.
Draco's vicious expression immediately vanished. “Granger, I didn't—”
Hermione jerked her head slightly and tensed her jaw. “No. Don't try to take it back. It's true. What you said is entirely true. Everything you do is on my head too. Every spell.” Her voice wavered and faded.
“Don't.” He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up her hand. “Don't carry it. It's not yours. Stop carrying this fucking war on your shoulders.”
“It is, though. I did this to you.” She squeezed his hand in hers. “Someone should regret it all. You don't have the time or space to hesitate. It makes more sense for me to carry it. Maybe if I do — you'll stop someday.”
Draco stilled and his mouth twitched. Instead of responding, he drew his wand and cast the diagnostic spell she'd taught him. They both studied it. There were still at least two hours of regrowth left.
Hermione looked up from his wand and stared at him.
“I'm getting rid of Kreacher when I go back. Assuming Moody hasn't already killed him. You can have him, but he's never setting foot in Grimmauld Place again.”
Draco's jaw clenched, and he glanced away from her without a word.
“How long have you been using him to spy on the Order?”
“I found him tending my mother's grave in April of last year.”
“April,” Hermione echoed. Then her eyes widened. “Is that why you hexed me? Because you read my notes?”
Draco said nothing in reply.
“I thought you did it because I healed you,” she said after a minute.
“I know.”
Her throat tightened. “Everytime I healed you after that, I thought — I thought you might hurt me again.”
“I know.” His voice was hollow.
There was a long silence. Hermione pressed her lips together and drew a slow breath, feeling as though she might choke on her grief.
“I don't know what to do. I can't ignore a threat to the Order.”
Draco sighed and looked down. “I was just angry.”
Hermione scoffed and jerked her chin. “You're always angry. You can't make threats like that. Especially not you. It was an accident. I was trying to heal Kingsley, and he apparated. I thought I'd take some of the injured back with me. My hands were full when I was cursed.”
“You were still working.” His voice was a carefully controlled. Clipped. She could hear the undercurrent of cold rage still in it.
“I wanted to,” she said firmly. “Padma didn't know the spellwork to heal me. Pomfrey and she could have done it together, but Pomfrey was sick this week. Our other casualty healer never came. I think Padma panicked; I don't think she used an advanced diagnostic charm to verify the injury. I could have asked her to stun me, but I wanted to keep working, and if she had — well, I might have died then. Although, hopefully she would have put monitor wards on me. I'm going to have quite a bit to say about healing practice when I get back. It was a lot of factors. You can't reduce complex situations into a simplistic blame game. You can't hold the Resistance hostage to control me.”
Draco gave a long sigh and stared across the room for a minute before he spoke. “If you die, Granger, I'm done. I won't continue this. I'm tired.”
Hermione twisted her wrist enough to catch his hand. “Draco, don't—”