Disclaimer: We don't own any characters from the Harry Potter Books written by the wonderful J.K. Rowling. She is wonderful because without her characters, there would be no basis of Amber and mine fucked up stories. Let's all clap for J.K.
A/N: This is a very angsty story. It has a very in character Draco. Dark and evil and prejudice, if it doesn't sound like your kind of story then don't read it. But I promise you, it's really good.
Enjoy!
Brittany (BooBack)
O Negative
Hermione looked as the water washed away the blood flowing from her wrists. She set the razor blade on the side of the sink and watched how the blood swirled in with the water, diluting it, making it worthless.
Just like her.
Suddenly Hermione heard a knock at the door and someone yelling, "anyone in there?" Hermione quickly turned off the sink and pulled her robes down over her bleeding wrists. She then took the locking charm off the door.
Oh, the irony, Hermione thought as the bane of her existence walked into the prefect's bathroom. He was the reason she was here in the first place, the reason she felt so worthless.
"Granger," he said curtly.
"Just don't talk, Malfoy. I'm leaving," Hermione said angrily as she walked past him towards the door.
Draco caught her wrist in his hand and watched in amusement as she flinched. "Don't talk to me so disrespectfully, Granger," he said snidely, releasing her arm and making a disgusted face as though he just touched something very dirty.
Hermione just made a revolted face back at him and walked out the door.
Draco stood in his spot for a moment more just looking down at his hand, it was covered in blood.
What the hell? he asked himself as he watched Granger's retreating figure.
He walked over to the sink to rinse off the blood, thinking that maybe she had cut him and he didn't feel it. When he arrived at the sink he noticed that there was blood already there.
He rinsed off his hand quickly and then ran off to find Granger.
When he finally made it to the Gryffindor entrance the Fat Lady refused to let him enter. Finally he showed her the Head Boy badge pinned to his robe and the portrait swung open.
"Potter!" he shouted when he saw the Gryffindor playing wizard's chess. "Where's Granger?"
"Why do you care, Malfoy?" he asked in disgust.
"I need to talk to her about Head business," he lied. Suddenly Hermione spoke from behind him.
"What Head business, Malfoy?"
"Outside," he motioned as he exited the common room, sure she would follow.
She followed reluctantly not wanting to be taunted more that she already had.
When she stepped out of the portrait, Malfoy grabbed her wrist and peeled back the robe sleeve, revealing the now clotting slits across her wrists.
"What the hell, Granger?" he screamed.
Hermione pulled her arm away from him and pulled her sleeve back down. "It's none of your business, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled.
Malfoy looked at her in confusion. "Why would you do that?" he asked. When she failed to reply he crossed his arms in front of his chest and smirked. "Not so perfect after all, are we?"
"Bugger off, Malfoy," she sighed, turning around to go back into the room.
"I'll just be off to Dumbledore's office then," he said lazily. Hermione froze in her tracks.
"Why?" she asked softly, hoping that it had nothing to do with their current situation.
"Well," he drawled on without interest. "We can't have our Head Girl cutting herself, now can we? Something must be done."
"Malfoy, you can't tell anyone, it has nothing to do with anyone but me."
"Strike that, Granger, I can tell anyone I want, including Dumbledore."
"No, you can't."
"Fine Granger, I won't tell anyone, but you have to promise me that you will stop," Draco drawled.
"Why do you care?" she muttered softly after a moment.
"As much as I love to torture you, I still want you around so I can berate someone," he said with no interest, looking past her.
"I'm not killing myself, Malfoy! I'm just trying to ease the pain," she cried, sitting on the floor and bringing her knees to her body.
"The pain of what?" he screamed.
"You!" she screamed. "You make fun of me constantly, you never give me a moment's rest. You make fun of me because of my blood, you laugh at my bushy hair and big teeth and my friends and that I actually have brains. And even though I am more intelligent than you and twice the wizard that you will ever be, you make me feel like trash. That is why I do this, Malfoy, because of you!"
Draco stared at the beaten girl before him. "Me?" he asked, thoroughly confused.
"You've always wanted everything to be about you," she countered. "Now it is."
For once in his horrid existence, Draco felt a small pang of guilt run through his body. He couldn't show it, he couldn't break to the will of a Mudblood.
"I guess I did get my way then," Draco said.
Hermione just buried her face further into her knees and cried harder.
No weaknesses, Draco reminded himself. "Oh suck it up and stop crying, Granger, it's not as bad as it seems. Seriously, just because you're a Mudblood doesn't mean you have to cry at me feet," Draco taunted.
Hermione looked up at him with a face of the most angry and abused bull and Draco the matador.
"You are the one who isn't worthy, Draco Malfoy, not worthy of my tears, not worthy of my blood." She got up and walked past him and away down the hall.
Draco looked down at the floor where she had been sitting. At least he hadn't shown weakness.
He walked away back to his own common room.
Draco looked across the Great Hall where the Head Girl was yet to have occupied. He watched as McGonagall walked swiftly into the hall with a grim expression on her face and walk over to Potty and Weasel.
He saw he surprised and then sad expressions on their faces as McGonagall talked to them and then saw them run out of the hall.
Draco felt the pang of guilt once more and wasn't sure why. He hadn't done anything except for keep a Mudblood in her place.
When breakfast was almost finished, Madam Pomfrey came in quickly and walked straight up to Dumbledore who nodded grimly and stood up at the staff table, clearing his throat to get everyone's attention.
"Students, your attention please," Dumbledore said. "We must know immediately if anyone here had O negative blood," Dumbledore asked, hoping for a miracle.
When no one raised their hands, Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and cast a spell on the entire hall of students. A dark green light hovered over two students, Lavender Brown and Draco Malfoy.
Madam Pomfrey hurried to the two tabled and pulled the students from their seats, dragging them out of the hall and towards the hospital wing.
"Madam Pomfrey, what's going on?" Lavender asked, fear rising in her voice.
"Dear, dear, I still don't understand why," Pomfrey was mumbling to herself.
Draco heard the mumbling, he knew what was happening, he knew who it was happening to, and he knew why.
Hermione was passed out on a hospital bed, white as death and almost there. She had nearly bled herself to death, if Pansy Parkinson had walked into the bathroom a moment later, Hermione may have died.
Despite her obvious distaste and hate for the dying witch, Pansy called Pomfrey immediately as she cast a levitating charm on Granger and took her to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had cast healing spells on the nicks and cuts all down Hermione's arms, but the amount of blood lost was too much. Hermione was dying.
Pansy, amazingly enough, had the same kind of blood as Hermione and readily agreed to give as much as she could. They waited through the night, but in the morning she was even paler and Pomfrey wasn't sure if she would make it.
She told McGonagall to get her friends, maybe having them close would give her reason to live. But seeing as Hermione was unconscious, she couldn't say why she had done what she did.
They needed more blood, so Madam Pomfrey ran t the Great Hall, only two students. She hoped it was sufficient enough.
Lavender held out her arm immediately after seeing her friend. "Take as much as you can," she said with tears in her eyes. She didn't want Hermione to die, there was no way that she could, it just wasn't possible.
Madam Pomfrey stuck a needle in Lavender's arm and connected it to Hermione. Then she threatened Draco with a needle. Draco stepped away quickly, he wasn't going to let his Pureblood go into that dirty body.
Pansy walked up behind him and smacked him hard on the back of the head. "For Merlin's sake, Draco. It's your blood or her life," Pansy said, sitting back down on the stool she had occupied all night by the bed.
Draco hesitantly took a step forward towards the dying form of the Head Girl. She was pale, too pale. Her usually full and flush lips were amost blue and looked cold. Her skin was clammy and her breathing was labored. He knew he should do it, give her the blood that he took pride in. Give her back the life that he had taken away. But he couldn't, he took a step back away from her.
Her dirty existence over his pure blood, he chose blood.
Suddenly his world went black.
Draco awoke on a hospital bed, looking up at the ceiling and with a painful throbbing in his head.
He tried to get up from the bed, but his arms and legs had been strapped down.
"What the hell?" Draco screamed.
SMACK!
"You selfish, arrogant bastard!" Pansy screamed at him in disgust. "I am ashamed of you, choosing something you don't need over someone's life. If your mother was alive, she would be horrified."
"I couldn't let her have it," Draco growled.
"She got it anyway, after Pomfrey stupefied you, she gave her some of your blood anyway."
"NO!" Draco yelled. "I don't want my blood in her!"
"You are worse that I could have imagined, Draco Malfoy. You…you…you know, they say that there is good in all people. I thought that was true until today. You are not good at all, you are complete and utter evil."
"She's not worthy…" Draco started.
"No Draco, you're not worthy!" Pansy screamed as she smacked him once more and then shoved a finger in his face accusingly. "You are not even worthy of your own blood."
She turned heel and walked from the hospital wing.
Draco was left alone at his bed. He turned to look at his arm and was disgusted to see the sick yellowed skin that spoiled his fair complexion. He raised his head slightly and saw Hermione facing him—her eyes shut.
A fair bit of color had returned to her skin, she no longer looked as if she was in mortal peril. Perhaps she'll live, Draco found himself thinking. That must be good for something, right? You saved a life, he could hear his common sense trying to convince him. Then his trained conscious kicked in. You didn't save a life, it argued. You've allowed something filthy to continue a life that it isn't worthy of! You've allowed it to create more of them. You've got nothing to be proud of.
Draco shook his head to clear it as he was sure that he was bordering on insanity. Suddenly, Madam Pomfrey returned with a gleam in her eye. "Mr. Malfoy!" she cried. "You're awake. How do you feel?"
Draco nodded to show he was fine but asked to be released from his bindings.
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," she said as she hurried to his side. "But first, would you mind giving a bit more blood? The other two have given twice already, and you should be able to spare a bit more before you go."
Draco glared at the medi-witch with as much displeasure as she could. "I would not have given you any earlier if it were to my consent, what makes you think that I will now?" he asked venomously from his position on the bed.
"Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey urged, "perhaps you don't realize the seriousness of the situation. We don't have a hundred donors available. We have three. Without all the help we can get, Miss Granger will surely—"
"Die?" Draco interrupted hopefully. "I know. Now, release me."
Madam Pomfrey looked down at the proud pureblood before releasing him. Draco instantly stood up and smoothed out his robe. He began to leave but paused at the foot of Hermione's bed.
"Goodbye, Granger," he said with a smirk before hastily leaving the hospital. Madam Pomfrey watched his actions in distaste and was arriving in Snape's office via floo powder an instant after the door had shut behind the blonde boy.
"Professor Snape?" she called into the dreary cell of a room. She saw a bustle of robes in the corner as Snape turned to face her.
"Poppy," he nodded at her in acknowledgement of her arrival. "What can I do for you?"
"You are aware of Miss Granger's critical condition, are you not?"
"I am."
"Then you understand our dire need to have every drop of blood match available."
"What are you getting at, Poppy?" Snape asked in a severed voice.
"Mr. Malfoy refuses to give his blood. He seems content that Hermione should die!" she said the last part with a horrified gasp. "Please, Severus, you must talk to him. We need his blood!"
Snape looked at her thoughtfully before nodding his head. "Of course. I'll see to it immediately."
"Put your preconceived notions away for once in your life," Snape yelled at his student.
"I can't professor, she is filthy and I can't give her something that is mine."
"Draco, your father is dead, you can get past the thoughts of superiority, he is not here to hinder you any longer."
"I am superior, Snape, my blood cannot flow through her veins!"
"Your father has brainwashed you, Purebloods are no better off than Mudbloods, and you are certainly not acting like the Pureblood that you should if you were in fact superior."
"You are a Pureblood too, how can you not see this in the same way that I do?"
"She is going to die!"
"Then let her die, better my blood that her horrid existence."
Snape moved to his student and roughly put his hands on his shoulders so that Draco was looking up at the Potion Master's face. "You will still have your blood! She won't have her life!" he yelled.
Draco glared in defiance. "I don't care!" he screamed.
Snape backed off and turned away from the blonde. He sighed as he put a hand to his temple and gently rubbed it. "Draco," he tried to reason. "Both your mother and father are gone, correct?" he asked.
"You know they are," was Draco's snide reply.
"You're right. I did know. I knew because as your father's will, I was left your guardian. Correct?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at the seventh year. Draco realized where this was headed and refused to answer. "Correct?" Snape asked again, more forcefully.
"Correct."
"And how old are you?"
"Seventeen," Draco sighed as he dropped his posture.
"Ah! So is it not my right to say whether or not you will give your blood?" Snape asked, not expecting an answer. "You will give your blood, Draco. Go up there now."
"No!" Draco said defiantly.
"Go now or I will take you out of school, you will never graduate and never become a real pureblood wizard!"
Draco scoffed but looked fearfully at his guardian as if to affirm his accusations.
"Now!" Snape yelled.
Draco turned and left the office. Instead of going to the hospital wing, he instead snuck off to his own room in the Slytherin commons. Unfortunately, Snape knew he wouldn't go freely, so he had followed him to his room. Within minutes Snape arrived at the hospital wing carrying a stupefied Draco.
"He wouldn't come willingly," he explained to Poppy as they strapped Draco to the bed again. He winced in pain as the needle pierced his skin, but wasn't able to put up any resistance.
Hermione laid in her bed and watched the scene with a disgusted glance. She eyed the blood as it traveled from him to her. She barely heard Snape explaining to Madam Pomfrey that Draco was to remain in the bed as long as he was needed, as she slowly slipped back into unconsciousness.
Draco awoke once again strapped to a hospital bed.
This time he kicked and screamed trying to break free from his bonds. "Let me go! Let me go!" he screamed.
"Shut up!" Hermione yelled from her bed.
"You shut up, filthy Mudblood, stealing my blood from me."
"It's not like I want it!"
"Let me go!" Draco yelled towards Madam Pomfrey's office.
She came out of her office at the sound of Hermione's voice and walked swiftly to her bed. Poppy put her hand on Hermione's forehead.
"Oh child, I'm so glad that you're awake," she cried.
"I'm fine Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said softly.
"I'm not fine. LET ME GO!" Draco yelled.
"I've been given strict orders to keep you here as long as need be," she stated angrily. "Pureblood's blood replenishes quicker because of a gene that it isolated in your families. Pansy is up here every five hours to give more, but Lavender can't give again for months still! You need to stay here," she said directly to Draco. Then she turned back to Hermione and gently stroked her cheek. "Dear child, why?"
Hermione shut her eyes and rolled away from Madam Pomfrey insisting on a silent answer. Poppy sighed and left the room for her office.
"So," Draco prompted. "I feel honored. If I weren't tied to the fucking bed, I would be harassing Potty and Weasel about your final departure. But as it is…I'll have to settle with the Mudblood."
"And if I wasn't too weak to get off of this fucking bed, I would be back in that bathroom, draining your Pure blood from my body," Hermione said angrily.
"I would ask for it back, but your mud has probably clouded it, making it too unsanitary for me."
"That stupid comment doesn't even deserve a reply," Hermione said, turning her face away from him and trying to ignore his accusing face.
Draco shut his eyes to black out the reality that as his blood drained into her, Hermione was becoming pureblooded as they fought.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Pansy shouted as Hermione's eyes rolled back in her head. The nurse hurried out to the patient's bed and quickly began assessing the situation. After two weeks of Hospital care, Poppy was sure Hermione would be able to go to classes soon. She would never have foreseen this sudden relapse.
"Miss Granger!" she shouted to the still form. "Can you hear me?"
"Would you mind keeping it down a bit?" Draco grouched from the next bed as he tossed restlessly. "Some of us are trying to relax."
Madam Pomfrey ignored Draco's response and kept on shaking Hermione. "Can you hear me?" she asked again.
Hermione's face was pale again, she was loosing the color that she had gained back in the last two weeks. She made a small sound in her throat and Madam Pomfrey leaned closer to her. "What is it, child?" she asked softly.
"Malfoy," Hermione moaned in pain.
Draco jerked his head over to the bed where she had said his name.
"His…fault…" Hermione said softly before her labored breathing slowed and her eyes closed. There was one last heave of her chest before it stilled permanently.
"No, no, child, no," Madam Pomfrey screamed. Draco just stared in silence at the now still form of the former Head Girl.
"What happened, Madam Pomfrey?" Pansy asked hysterically. "Why would she…?"
"Her body must have…rejected the blood," Poppy got out.
"But she was doing so well!" Pansy said.
"It must have been delayed, her body was still in shock from the loss of blood that her immune system didn't go to work right away," she explained.
"But she's DEAD!" Pansy screamed.
"Yes child, she is," Madam Pomfrey said softly.
"Finally," Draco murmured.
"You prat!' Pansy screamed as she lunged at Draco who was defenseless as he remained tied to the bed. Madam Pomfrey was somehow able to hold back Pansy's murderous threats long enough for the student to calm.
"Now that I am no longer needed here, do you think I could be released?" Draco asked nonchalantly as the excitement died down. A quick spell in his direction and Draco was leaving, rubbing his tender wrists. "Good day," he said cheerfully as he left.
Ron and Harry were absent from the Great Hall for the next couple of days along with many other people who were close friends of Hermione's. Even Pansy had gone to Hermione's funeral.
Everyone who went knew what Hermione's dying words were. They now knew why she had done it.
It was Malfoy's fault.
After the five days of mourning for the student that they had lost, everyone got back into their ways of life. Harry and Ron were more depressed than ever, not doing their homework, not caring about NEWTS, not caring about anything except how they could get Malfoy back for the death of their best friend.
On the train ride home as Draco sat alone and isolated in his own compartment—no one else wanted to end up like Hermione because of him—he looked out the window, reflecting on the last couple of weeks of school after Granger's death.
People avoided him like a plague. They avoided the murderer, they didn't want to be friends with someone who showed no remorse over the death of someone. They didn't want to talk to him, lest he infect them as he had her.
Now he sat alone on the train, he felt no remorse over the Mudblood dying and really didn't care that everyone avoided him, they were almost out of school anyway.
He thought more about how Hermione was more a Pureblood before she died that she was a Mudblood. He had given so much of himself to her—unwillingly of course—and still she died. He had the feeling that her mind took over her body and she forced it to not accept his blood. She didn't want his blood in her body and her mind fought it so strongly that her body did as well until she killed herself.
No matter what way you looked at it, it was his fault that she was dead. His fault that she was in that bathroom in the first place. His fault that he had followed her and threatened her. His fault that she had gone back to the bathroom to drain her dirty blood from her body. His fault that her body didn't take the blood.
His fault that she had died.
Draco's mind reeled with the information. Shouldn't he feel guilty? Wasn't that the human reaction? Then his conscious kicked in again with the bare facts.
She was not worthy of his blood, this proved it, she had died because of it.
FINIS
A/N: How did you guys like it, should we write more angsty stuff or stick to humor. Please lend us a helpful hand and give us a review.
Love and Lemons,
Brittany and Amber (BooBack and SilverShiver)
