CHAPTER 8/BLOODLESS/27 AUGUST 2008

Draco swam out of unconsciousness at around 2am, and then sat upright in bed trying to recall the circumstances under which he had gotten there. A dull pain landed with a thunk in his chest when he remembered that his mother was dead.

She wasn't the best mother there ever was, he was sure, but she had loved him, and she'd been all he'd had left. He felt her loss keenly, allowing another few tears to well before he swiped them away and took a resolute breath.

It was then that a house elf popped into existence, startling him out of his abject misery.

"Master Draco," the elf was flustered, "Master Draco, Miss Stori, is- she's- you is needed!"

Draco leapt out of bed immediately, grabbing his trousers from the chair next to his bed, hopping on one foot and then the other to get his legs in.

"What happened, Elmy?" he asked of the elf, who tugged at her ears in distress.

"Miss Stori is fallen asleep in the hall and won't wake up."

Draco's blood ran cold.

"Which wing, Elmy?"

"Lower East."

"Elmy, please send an urgent Floo to Hermione Granger. Tell her it's Astoria, and I'll meet her at St Mungos."

Elmy nodded, wide eyes, and Draco careened down the hall towards the east wing.

He found Astoria collapsed in the Lower East hallway, as Elmy had said. She was breathing, shallowly, but did not respond when he gripped her shoulder firmly and shook. She was pale.

He pulled her into his arms and instructed another of the waiting elves to look after Scorpius if he awoke. The elf nodded, wide eyed and worried, and Draco stepped into the Floo with a shout of, "St Mungos."


He arrived in the Emergency Department of the Healing institute, which was entirely too calm and sedate for the distress he was feeling.

"Please, fetch Healer Matthews or Priscilla Podmore."

He turned, visibly relieved to hear Hermione's voice speaking. "Granger,"

She acknowledged him with a nod, but turned to her patient, quickly taking stock of her condition.

"Follow me," she ordered, and he didn't even think to argue, following her through the Mungo's hall until Hermione swept them behind a curtain into a cubicle. He lay Astoria out on the bed, and Hermione immediately began diagnostics spells.

"Ostende, egritu, revelinjur."

The results appeared in green glowing letters, the letters and numbers spinning and pausing seemingly randomly, but Hermione seemed to understand, her brow furrowed and her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Healer Granger?"

"Ah, Matthews." Hermione looked up from the diagnostics with a look of relief, "Good, I need your opinion. You see this?"

Draco tuned them out, his gaze zeroing in on Astoria's face, his own creased with worry. Stori looked pale and lifeless. His stomach clenched. He couldn't lose her. Scorpius couldn't lose her.

"Mr Malfoy," Healer Matthews said, "We need your consent to commence the transfusion."

He looked from Matthews to Granger, and back again, "Right now?"

"Yes. The curse is ravaging her body," Hermione answered, "There's a significant chance that if we don't act now, there won't be another chance."

"You mean-"

She nodded solemnly, "Astoria may not survive the night."

"Of course, you have my consent," he swallowed, "Do your best."

Hermione gripped his arm sympathetically, before turning back to Matthews, and starting to bark instructions. He was left in the cubicle when they wheeled the bed out the operating theatre, having prepared Astoria with a terrifying array of needles and acrid smelling disinfectant.


Hermione hooked a large bag of A negative blood onto the IV stand in preparation and took a moment to take a breath and shake the image of Draco Malfoy's worried face from her mind.

She wasn't sure when it had gotten to the point that she wanted to reach her hand up and smooth the worry from his forehead, but she could confidently say that it wasn't within the normal bounds of her client relationships.

"Healer W-Granger," Matthews corrected himself, "Ms Podmore and I are prepped. We can begin when you're ready."

She let her breath out with a whoosh, and nodded, "Alright. Let's begin."

She pulled the mask over her mouth, and turned to the pale, prone body of Astoria Greengrass, and cast a stasis charm. Her laboured breaths became shallow and regular almost instantly.

"Okay. For this to not endanger her life we need to be careful. The exact volume coming out needs to be replaced at an equal rate."

The two facing her nodded sharply, and she indicated for Matthews to continue preparing.

She cast a sanguis and a diagnostic spell to keep an eye on things and began the painstaking process of siphoning Astoria's blood out through the tiny tube connected to a needle in the crook of one elbow, and the new blood in to the other elbow.

The blood that left her was black and congealed, taking an age to slip through the tube and into the waiting bucket, where it writhed menacingly. The feel of Dark magic crackled in the air, and it was all Hermione could do to not recoil in revulsion.

Matthews took over the siphoning of the cursed blood, leaving Hermione free to concentrate on the donated blood.

The colour began to return to Astoria's pallor, and Hermione wiped a bead of sweat from the corner of her eye. She held her wand steady, directing the fresh, donated blood from the bag into the tube that was connected directly to Astoria's bloodstream. The utmost precision was required; the cursed blood was so thick that restraint was required to stop the donated blood from rushing into her and curdling with the curse.

"Gods," Priscilla Podmore said, examining a sample of the cursed blood under a microscope, "This is awful. Ms Greengrass was very close to death by my reckoning."

Hermione gritted her teeth and nodded, not able to take her concentration away for a moment while Astoria's life hung in delicate balance.


Draco stared at his hands as he sat in the waiting room. Time was ticking by in infuriatingly small increments, like the last drips of treacle in the bottom of the jar when all you want is a spoonful for your porridge.

He heard a shuffling from the hall facing the waiting room and raised his eyes to meet the blue ones of Ronald Weasley.

"Malfoy?" He asked, unsure.

"Good job Weasley," he snapped, "Using your eyes and deductive skills is hard."

Weasley looked like he had swallowed something unpleasant.

Draco sighed, drat it, "Sorry Weasley, that was rude."

Weasley's eyebrows shot up, and his face morphed to one of surprise, "Malfoy are you okay? Are you under the Imperius? Blink once for no, twice for yes."

He couldn't help the snort that escaped his mouth, "No, thanks for your concern."

"Sounds like something someone under the Imperius curse would say," Weasley muttered, and cracked a grin, "Why are you here? It's 3am."

"That hadn't escaped my notice, thanks. And you're here at 3am."

"Hermione works out of a Mungo's lab, she's usually here late if I can't find her at the flat."

"Why do you need her this late?" His tone was sharper than he intended, and he winced.

Weasley gave him a searching look, "Rose woke up after a nightmare and wanted her Mum."

Draco winced again, "Ah. Sorry, I'm here because Granger's performing an emergency surgery on Astoria."

"Your wife?"

"Ex-wife," he corrected, automatically, "Blood curse."

"Shit," he said, sliding into the seat next to him, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

There was a beat of silence.

"Weasley?"

"Yeah?"

"This is weird."

"Yeah." Ron grinned again, "Harry won't believe me if I tell him."

Draco sighed, "Astoria's life is hanging in the balance, I've entrusted it to Hermione fucking Granger, and I'm sitting in the waiting room chatting with Ronald Weasley."

His eyes flicked over to the ginger sitting next to him, whose face slid into a lazy grin when he caught his eye, "It's not the usual order of things for me either mate."

Draco forced the visceral reaction he had being called mate by a Weasley and smiled weakly.

"I heard about your mum too." Weasley said quietly.

He stiffened, schooling his features, and nodded jerkily.

"I'm sorry," Weasley offered, "I can't imagine losing my mum."

"Your mother would crawl back through the mouth of Hades before she'd leave you lot," retorted Draco, "My mother probably welcomed death."

Weasley snorted, "No doubt she would. Crawl out the mouth of Hades, that is."

The doors into the Theatre cracked open, rending the air with the tension that only not knowing if someone had lived or died could produce. Hermione stepped out, her hair in a frizzy halo around her head, back lit by the bright light of the theatre.

She did not seem surprised to see Ron but addressed Draco first.

"The operation was a success," she said, and Draco felt his breath go out of his body, "We'll have to monitor Astoria for the next couple of months to ensure that the curse doesn't redevelop in the blood, and in the meantime, a sample of the cursed blood will be going to the Gringott's Curse Breaking Department to study."

Draco nodded in dumb relief and exchanged a small grin with Weasley. Late nights made for strange bedfellows indeed.

Hermione watched the exchange with a wry bemusement.

"How's Rose?" she asked, and Weasley stood to take her to the side and discuss their child. He also put a hand on her swelling stomach. The fond looks they exchanged made Draco's heart clench.

He stood, raised a hand to Granger, who acknowledged it with a nod, and made his way to the Floo. He needed a god damn drink.


AUTHORS NOTE: Oh my Gods I am so sorry. This has taken forever to write because work has been pedal to the metal and I've had no time. Hopefully this is worth the wait. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW. I love reading what you think of everything.

Much love,

Alycat