She picked up the last potion she'd brought over and poured a small amount of the embrocation onto her palm. Starting at the ball of his thumb, she began rubbing it in gently, working down to his wrist and forearm and then up to his shoulders. The potion was warm and made her skin tingle as she massaged it into his skin, trying to repair all the rigid knots and torn muscles.
When she looked up after finishing both arms, Draco was asleep, his eyebrows tightly furrowed.
She studied him for several seconds before reaching out and brushing her fingertip lightly between his eyes, trying to banish the tension.
Without Draco to cast the spells, trying to massage away the knots and tremors took longer. She continued anyway.
Without him awake, she could safely cry while she worked.
He slept for nearly forty-eight hours. Hermione stayed with him almost the entire time. His expression relaxed when she was in bed beside him, talking to him quietly about anything that came to mind, running her fingers through his hair and working on his muscle damage. She nearly depleted his entire supply of embrocation potions.
When she became too restless to sit beside him, she would quietly pace. She looked out the window the next morning and spotted Lucius walking the length of the North Wing as though he were trying to measure it in paces. He looked up, and their eyes met.
Hermione's blood ran cold. She met his gaze for only a moment before shrinking back from sight.
Everytime Draco woke, Hermione checked his eyes and had him perform basic healing spells for her. He kept dozing until Bobbin came to report that Lucius was at Draco's door and threatening to break it down if he didn't see Draco.
Draco forced himself up. “How long have I been here? I was only given three days off. Bobbin, bring me a full set of robes.”
Hermione tried to hold him back. “Draco, wait. Your eyes still haven't recovered. You still have half a day. You need to rest for as long as possible.”
He rolled his eyes and stood up stiffly as Bobbin popped back in with a pile of robes. “That's what I keep pain relief for.”
He dressed and made his way over to all the potions Bobbin had brought. He squinted as he held them a few inches from his face, trying to read the labels. He knocked back five of them in quick succession, ignoring Hermione's objections that certain types of pain relief shouldn't be combined.
He rolled his eyes. “I'm well-versed in pain relief. I can almost guarantee it won't be the thing that kills me.”
He blinked repeatedly and shook his head.
Hermione could tell he still couldn't see reliably. “Be careful, Draco.”
He smiled briefly as he met her eyes. “I'll be fine.”
She still caught the tensed, braced expression on his face the split second before he apparated.
Bobbin came a few hours later and took away all the medical supplies. Master Draco was fine, she said while avoiding Hermione's eyes, he just wanted to inventory which potions Hermione had used.
Hermione was left alone to occupy herself in her cage, worrying and wondering what was happening beyond her bedroom door.
Chapter End Notes
Hermione pregnant by thegirlthatreadsfantasybooks.
July 2005
Bobbin brought porridge for breakfast the next morning. Hermione didn't feel like eating and ignored the tray while she paced around her room.
Draco hadn't come back since he'd left to see his father. She was sick of waiting. She wasn't going to just sit impotently in her bedroom and wait for Ginny to come and Draco to die.
She strode over to the door and pulled it open with a jerk.
“Don't!” A sharp voice screamed.
Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin and turned to find Narcissa had leapt out of her chair and appeared on the verge of attempting to climb out of her frame.
Hermione stared wide-eyed across the room at Narcissa, her hand against her chest. Her heart felt as though it had jumped into her mouth.
Narcissa stared back at her.
“You can't go out. Draco isn't on the estate.” Her voice was sharp and imperious.
Hermione had somehow thought she'd sound more broken. She drew a deep breath and looked at Narcissa warily. “You can tell?”
Narcissa gave short nod. “The magic of the estate knows.”
Hermione closed the door slowly and walked over to the portrait. She studied Narcissa, taking note of the traits that Draco had inherited. The same mouth. The same mannerisms. In school, she'd thought Draco took entirely after his father, but now she saw how Narcissa subtly shone through Draco's Malfoy traits and features.
“I want to save your son,” Hermione said.
Narcissa's mouth pursed tightly, and she raised an eyebrow. “You can't. If you really thought you could, you wouldn't be stalking around the room like a caged nundu.”
Hermione didn't blink. “Draco will die if I don't do something.”