Hello FanFiction Citizens! Well. I'd like to say this is my first *published* story.
I have been writing and shipping Dramione since I started reading fanfictions.
(And trust me, that's been A WHILE now.)
Anyhwayssss. I sort of just thought of this while I was on the plane coming back from visiting colleges.
So if you like it, I guess I could keep on going with it.
I'm working on another Dramione Fic. And that one is eons longer and more developed.
I'll see if I can finally get it up on here. -_-'
This was kinda word vomit.
But enjoy nonetheless!
DISCLAMER: If I owned Harry Potter, I would be in a giant mansion, swimming in money.
I am at my desk. In my parent's house. With no money around me. *sigh*
Hopefully you can do the math.
Calming Creme
He grimaced as she poured the healing potion on his forearm.
"DAMMIT, GRANGER," he hissed, shoulders tensing and baring his teeth.
She glared venomously.
"Would you prefer me to let the wound get bigger and infected? Better yet, why not let your skin rot and decay and have to face amputation?" she spat, seething at his inflammatory attitude.
He grumbled and looked away, pouting angrily.
"It's your fault we're even in this fucking mess," he muttered under his breath.
She stopped moving her hands. Her nostrils flared.
"Know what?" she yelled, slamming everything down, "Nevermind. Do it yourself, you ungrateful scum of the earth."
She got up, a chill running down her spine. Retreating to her corner of the dank cave, she sat down and looked away defiantly.
He was pissed, not wanting to admit he needed her. He looked down; the flesh of his giant bite mark was shriveling quickly. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Regardless, he panicked.
"Grangerrrr! I'm sorryyy! The skin on my arm is bubbling… What the FUCK IS HAPPENING?" he called out to her.
"What's the magic word?" she replied sing-songly.
"Imperio if you don't get the HELL OVER HERE," he yelled, voice showing his thoroughly disconcerted state of mind.
She scowled and shot him a dirty look, but went over to him anyway.
She peered down at the damaged limb.
"That just means it's working. But I need to add more since it's such a big wound," she recited as if out of one of her many books, picking up the bottle.
He looked up at her pleadingly. She just rolled her eyes.
"Oh come off it. How about this, if you don't flip a hippogriff again, I'll put some calming crème on it," she encouraged, tone as if speaking to a three-year-old.
"Don't patronize me, you worm," he growled.
Without so much as a warning, she dumped the potion on his arm again. She smirked mercilessly as he howled in pain.
"You… You sadist!" he choked out, clutching the uninfected area of his forearm.
She chuckled humorlessly.
"Look who's talking, Mr. I'm a BLEEDING DEATH EATER," she retorted, losing it slightly, picking up the calming crème.
"Ohhhhh! So we have to go back to that, don't we? Might as well just call you a filthy Mudblood for OLD TIMES SAKE," he countered, raising his voice as he stood and snatched the calming crème out of her hand.
She was shaking with fury.
"The only reason your goddamn STUPID ARM hurts so much is because there is already so much scar tissue. When you went FUCKING BALISTIC and skinned your—"
"Don't," he warned, voice dangerously low. "You don't know what you're talking about. So just shut. The fuck. Up."
She snapped her mouth close, face flushed from the boiling anger inside of her.
He was still fuming as he attempted to dry his arm and put the calming crème on.
He was doing pretty well up until he had to open the bottle of crème.
Her anger dissipated momentarily, as she instinctually took the bottle from him and opened it.
He looked at her curiously as she gestured for him to sit back down.
Wordlessly he did. He extended his arm out to her and she gently dabbed the crème onto his fragile skin.
He winced but made no objections, obvious relief washing over his senses.
Once she was done coating the whole bite mark, she bandaged it and put his whole arm in a sling.
He looked over at her pointedly. She stared right into his dark grey eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
Both their voices rang out into the hollow night. She looked down. He looked out over to the trees that hid the cave they were in.
"It was my fault. I should have been the one bitten," she murmured thickly.
"Don't pull that Gryffindork bullshit with me, Hermione," he let out, voice void of emotion.
"…H..Hermione?" she stammered.
"Yeah. Get over it. That's not a very pressing issue, now is it? No. What is, though, is that we don't know what bit me. In a matter of days I could either be sucking your blood or howling at the moon," he mused, shivering at the thought of it.
She sat up straight and cleared her throat.
"Well. Did it feel like venom was injected into you?" she asked, pulling out a Muggle pen and a piece of parchment.
"No… What's that?" he mumbled, fascinated by the pre-filled ink quill contraption she was using.
"A Muggle pen. So. That rules out Vampire. Besides, Vampire bites are so clean and precise. Your bite… it was too messy and… ripped," she started, "Almost…"
"Animalistic…" he finished in a hushed tone, voicing the word slowly.
They locked gazes, knowing what it meant.
"I'll send a Patronus to Lupin," she whispered, not even daring to break eye contact with the terrified eyes boring into hers.