A/N: Thank you so much for the kind comments! They really help motivate me. Also, a reminder, this story will be updated every Friday. So, you don't have to worry about long waits. Thanks so much to my alpha reader: LaDeeDaa and my beta reader: astrangefan without whom I couldn't write this story.

British Nobility

Her shaking fingers nearly reached her wand. It was right there. Nott's thrashing slammed her face into the porcelain of the tub's edge, and she screamed, forcing her head above the water as pain radiated out from her nose. She knew, instantly, it had broken. She nearly had her fingers around her wand.

"Theo!" she just made out Malfoy's own panicked voice - a bark of a shout - as her head went down into the water again. Finally, Nott's hands were wrenched off her - taking chunks of her own skin with them. She was able to reach her wand.

"Stupify!" she cried, sniffling as tears and blood ran down her face. "Malfoy, grab him so he doesn't drown!" she choked out just as Nott's body went limp and the force of her curse caused her levitating charm to fail.

She saw Malfoy bend forward and lift Nott's limp body up against the edge of the tub with great difficulty. She knew he wasn't in a physical condition to hold Nott up for long. "What the fuck did you do?" he accused.

Fuck you.

Hermione felt herself on the edge of hysterics. She was shaking so hard she wasn't sure she could keep her wand in her hand. She had to maintain control. If Malfoy got her wand...

She scuttled back from the tub, sheathing her wand. "He w-woke when I was bathing him," she finally made out, her teeth chattering. The adrenaline in her system made it hard for her to focus. She hated her traitorous body for giving her terror away in front of him.

Malfoy, for his part, was checking over Nott for injuries - his own hands shaking with what Hermione could only assume was his own cocktail of panic and adrenaline.

Hermione watched him as she took a few more moments to catch her breath and try to regain control over her body. His brow was furrowed in concern as he looked over Theo, trying desperately to keep him from slipping too far into the bath water. Had they been close? Were they friends? She couldn't recall seeing them together much at Hogwarts, but admittedly she was no expert on the friendships in Slytherin house.

Finally, when her breathing was no longer coming out in jagged pants, she moved back over to the tub and reached down to pull the plug. She pulled her wand again and cast drying charms on both Malfoy and Nott before recasting the levitating spell. Malfoy breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping from the effort of the last five minutes. He looked like he might fall over into the tub himself.

"I-If I g-get him int-to bed, c-c-could you d-dress him?" Her body was clearly not over the shock of nearly being drowned. She couldn't keep her teeth from chattering no matter how hard she tried. She had to get Nott settled before she fell apart.

Not now. Not in front of him.

Malfoy said nothing but he followed her out of the room as she manoeuvred the black-haired man from out of the tub, back down the short hall, and into his bed. "I'll be b-back," she said, turning on her heel without even looking at Malfoy. She felt an urgency to get out of his presence because she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to keep it together.

She rushed down the hall to the room she'd planned to use, ripped open the door and slammed it behind her, warding it for sound.

She collapsed against the door letting sobs that seemed to come from the bottom of her soul finally emerge. Hermione reached up to put her head in her hands, but the pain was too much. She hissed as she realised she still had open wounds, not to mention a broken and bleeding nose.

'Episkey,' she muttered, aiming her own wand at her face. 'Fuck!' Harry had not mentioned how much that hurt. But as soon as the pain was there it was gone, and her nose felt infinitely better. She'd need a mirror for the rest of it.

The guest room she'd chosen as her own had an attached bath. The only reason she hadn't chosen it for Nott and Malfoy was that it wasn't large enough for both their hospital beds and manoeuvrability. In that moment, she was relieved at her earlier decision. She didn't want to have to meander down the hall to another bathroom and run the risk of him being there.

With great effort she pulled herself up and hobbled into the bathroom flipping on the light. The mirror was directly in front of her, and she let out a sharp yelp when she caught sight of herself. Her hair was a mess, dripping all around her, and her face. Merlin, her face looked like a scene from a horror film. From her nose down to her chin was dried blood and not so dried red blood was streaming down, falling into little droplets at her chest.

Carrie. I look like Carrie from that Stephen King movie.

Her neck was covered in deep, red scratches - some of them still dripped fresh blood. She knew she had scrapes and scratches in her scalp. This was going to take a while. She stripped off all her clothes and kicked them into the corner of the room before turning on the shower and testing the water.

Satisfied, she made quick, efficient work of cleaning herself. Her hair was the worst of it. Every time she lathered the sting of every scrape made her hiss in pain. Despite hating to do it, she used a drying charm on her hair to make it easier to heal herself.

It will be absolutely unmanageable tomorrow.

It was painstaking work getting to every little cut. Some of them were no bigger than Nott's fingernails - little crescents that bit into her flesh and made her bleed. Others were long, jagged and would take a bit longer to heal. Her neck would be raw for a few days.

She tried very hard to disassociate. This was not like that time. Nott had not meant to harm her. He was no real risk to her now. He was scared, panicked. She would likely have reacted the same or worse in a similar situation. But as she looked down at the word still carved into the flesh of her left arm - ironically in exactly the same spot that her subjects were Marked - her mind couldn't help but go back there to the last time she'd been physically assaulted.

Bellatrix is dead. Voldemort is dead. They cannot touch you now.

When she was done, she pulled on a pair of flannel pants and an oversized tee-shirt and looked herself over once again. She looked fine. There were scratches on her neck, but she didn't look like she'd been through a near-death experience. It was amazing how fast Magic could heal. No matter how often she'd done it, she never got used to it.

Padding back into the bedroom, she pulled out a Calming Draught and downed it in one go. She couldn't leave Malfoy and Nott alone much longer. She gave Nott a strong stunner but if he didn't return to his comatose state, he'd be coming to soon.

You can do this. The war is over. You are strong.

She repeated the mantra a few more times then left her room and made her way back to the one Malfoy and Nott were currently occupying.

She took a calming breath before opening the door. Malfoy was in her personal space immediately. "What did you do?" he demanded. He was still shaking, both hands fisted at either side.

"Malfoy, calm down," she started, her voice taking on the soothing tone she'd used when he first awakened in her house. "I was bathing him and he woke up. I think he panicked because he didn't know where he was or who I was…"

Malfoy snorted as if to say, No-fucking-shit, but said nothing.

"I stunned him because he was scared and in pain, and I didn't think I could rationalise with him at the time."

Malfoy seemed to calm, but only slightly. He still looked at her as if she were the villain - as if she purposely attacked Nott and invited the attack to harm him. "Are you friends?" she ventured.

"It's none of your fucking business, Mudblood," Draco snarled.

Fucking bastard.

She said nothing, but she didn't back down. She didn't let him see how the word still affected her. She'd been through enough therapy to get to the point that she could hear the slur and not flinch. She was absolutely not going to let him get under her skin - especially not with that word. Fuck him.

"I'm going to check on him now, if that's okay with you, Malfoy," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He just grunted and turned his back on her, heading back to his bed where he laid down and rolled away from her and Nott. Giving her the silent treatment. Thank Merlin for small mercies.

She ran diagnostic spells over Nott's prone body and discovered the stunner was no longer in effect and his heart rate was getting dangerously low. Shit.

She bit her lip and decided what to do. She could try an enervate - she had her doubts that no one had yet tried that, though. She needed Padma.

"Tempus." It was nearly 11:30pm. But it couldn't wait. Not after the episode he'd had tonight. She seemed to have Malfoy's attention again. He'd turned back around to watch what she was doing with Nott. She did her best to ignore him.

"Expecto Patronum," she cried, her wand raised confidently as she pulled one of her very happy school memories forward to fuel the spell. Long ago she'd stopped using memories from her Muggle life. Those memories were now tainted by the loss of her parents. But there were several from her life at Hogwarts that she could always reliably call upon. Tonight, she utilised an old favourite: punching Draco Malfoy in the face. Normally, her 'happy memories' were a lot less violent. But at the moment, given the way he was looking at her, the joy she felt at his being taken down a few pegs, by her no less, made the memory brighter than usual.

Her otter floated happily from her wand, and she sent it with an urgent message, "Need help with Nott. Heart is weak. Floo is connected for you."

Hermione busied herself taking notes while she waited for Padma to arrive.

Subject 2 experienced violent panic attack while being bathed. He was unconscious until I began to wash his left arm…

"Oh, fuck," Hermione cried suddenly. She ignored the inelegant grunt she heard from Malfoy's bed in response, not caring if she horrified him with her vulgar language. She pulled Nott's blanket down to look at his left arm - The Mark. Her fingers ghosted over the skin.

"Nnnnnnn," Nott grunted, his eyes snapping open. Hermione instantly whipped out her wand and secured his right wrist to the bed with the padded cuff that was already there. Nott sucked in a breath like he'd been underwater for ages. "Pleasssse," he hissed, his eyes full of panicked terror.

"Granger, what the fuck have you done to him now?" Malfoy demanded stalking over to where she stood next to Nott. His posture was protective, as if he were willing to stand before the witch's wand - helpless - just to make sure she didn't harm Nott further.

"Dr-Draco?" Nott said. His voice was weak, but he recognized his friend. His black eyes met Draco's blue/grey ones and Hermione watched a wordless exchange between them.

"Yeah," Malfoy said, uncomfortably, after a beat. "We've been kidnapped by Granger."

She snorted. Nott's heart rate was coming back up. That was all she cared about at the moment.

Subject 2 awake. Intense pain and panic began as I barely touched The Dark Mark. He is disoriented but his heart rate has stabilised. Temp 100.5 F.

Subject 1 concerned about Subject 2. No episodes to speak of since arrival.

"Yes," Hermione said, rubbing her hands together to warm them again. "I thought I could use two malnourished Death Eaters, and here we are," she smiled at her own joke but neither Malfoy nor Nott seemed to think it was funny.

"I'm going to run some diagnostics again," she informed Nott. "I will not touch your left arm again. Do you think you could answer some questions?"

Nott looked over at Malfoy who gave him an infinitesimal nod - which did not go unnoticed by Hermione. "Okay," he finally said.

"Do you have any memories from the last few weeks?" Hermione asked, looking down at her notebook. But before she could hear Nott's answer, she heard Padma bounding up the stairs.

"Sorry," the Healer cried, nearly running into the room. She panted as she leaned over and put one hand on her knee, catching her breath. "I was in the shower."

Hermione felt guilty. Maybe it hadn't been that urgent. "Sorry," she said.

"I see Rip Van Winkle is awake," Padma indicated toward Nott. Hermione couldn't help it. She let out a bark of a laugh. The tension had been mounting and Padma's Muggle reference was enough to let some of it out.

The stress of this day is getting to me.

"I originally called you because his heart rate was getting into the critical zone," Hermione started but then she realised that it might be better to have this conversation outside. She turned back to Nott. "Will you be okay for a few moments while I speak with the Healer?" she asked him.

He looked at Malfoy again. Nod. "Okay," he said again.

This dynamic needs some investigating, she mentally noted.

She grabbed her notebook and led Padma outside and down to the bedroom she'd taken for herself. Plopping on the bed she indicated for Padma to sit in the chair in the corner. "Pads, I swear to Merlin it feels like this day has been a week long."

"What happened here?" Padma asked, indicating on her own neck where she saw marks on Hermione's.

"Oh, right. Well, I had to bathe them…"

"You bathed Draco Malfoy?" Padma interrupted, as if the question literally could not stay inside her body. It sprang out of her mouth on its own accord.

Hermione blushed. Then she chastised herself for blushing. What was she, a Fifth Year? "No. I didn't actually bathe Malfoy. He's perfectly capable of bathing himself. But Nott hadn't regained consciousness all day. They were filthy. So, I levitated him to the bath and at some point,he regained consciousness." She left out the part where it was a result of her washing his Mark. That was Unspeakable business. At this point, she had no reason to believe it was medically relevant for Padma's purposes.

"He panicked, of course," she continued. "Dragged me under, scratched me up pretty bad. I even had to fix my own broken nose tonight. It's been a dream," Hermione tried to laugh it off. It was a coping technique that she'd had middling success within the past.

Padma was having none of it. "Let me look," she demanded.

"Pads, I swear, I got it all," Hermione assured her. :I'm just waiting for these to clear up in a few days."

"I'll bring a potion for them tomorrow morning," Padma insisted. "They'll be gone in a few hours."

"Fine," Hermione said, knowing it was pointless to argue. "Anyway, I had to stun him and Malfoy helped me get him back into the bed and redressed. At some point while I was cleaning up the stunner wore off, but he was back to comatose. His heartbeat was getting dangerously low, so I called on you. In the time it took you to get here, he woke up again."

Padma nodded professionally and took all the information in. "Okay," she said. "If this happens again, I can give you a protocol to follow. I've also been doing some research about how to wake him in the event you need to. There is a spell utilised to revive patients after particularly painful procedures where we give them the Draught of Living Death. It's harmless, so even if it doesn't work you shouldn't cause extra damage."

"Bless you," Hermione said, her pen poised to take notes.

Subject 2 seeks validation and cues from Subject 1. When asked a question or for consent, he looks to Subject 1 for guidance. Subject 1 seems protective of Subject 2. Anthropologically speaking, I'd assume that Subject 1 was above Subject 2 in hierarchy both socially and probably within the Death Eater organisation.

Subject 2 has maintained a healthy heart rate for over an hour and was given a Calming Draught. He was not hungry but did drink pumpkin juice and water.

Subject 1, on the other hand, has clearly gotten his appetite back because he had three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches over the course of two hours. He indicated his pain was increasing and has been given a mild pain potion for the evening.

"What in Merlin's name could you possibly be writing?" Malfoy asked from his bed. It was very late, and she hoped they'd be asleep soon because she desperately needed to fall onto her bed and pass out. "Pathetic sod 1 nearly shat himself in terror when he discovered he was naked in a bath with me. Pathetic sod 2 learned what a toastie was."

"Toaster," Hermione corrected with a smirk. "It's really not that interesting," she said. "Wanker 1 is better company than Wanker 2, even as he tried to drown me in my own tub."

Nott snorted at that. She saw Malfoy's lips quirk in what she knew was a valiant effort to not smile. She felt a little more tension ease out of the room.

"Do remember to make note that you provided medical care while wearing a shirt with dancing frogs on it," Malfoy quipped.

"Oh, yes. That is absolutely being noted," Hermione said earnestly. "And Wanker 2 wore a Puddlemere United jersey, which I could only assume is because of his penchant for joining lost causes."

"Hilarious," Malfoy deadpanned.

"How is your pain now?" she asked.

"Five."

"Will you be able to sleep?"

"No." Malfoy said.

"I can give you a little bit more…"

"It won't matter," he sighed. "I rarely sleep."

His tone haunted her. It wasn't biting. It wasn't mean. It was broken. It was the sound of a man who had already resigned himself to the fact that his life was decided. He was a 21-year-old man and his life was already over. Done.

Oh, she knew that Malfoy had been given a slightly lighter sentence than the older, higher ranking Death Eaters. He was only to serve fifty years. He would be out when he was almost seventy. Given how long a Wizard's life was, he might have another forty years after - but what kind of life would it be? He was barely more than a child when he went into Azkaban. She didn't like thinking about it. She'd never really believed his punishment was fair.

Hermione looked over at Nott. His eyes were already drooping. She assumed he'd be lights out in a few minutes.

Turning her attention back to Malfoy, she watched him silently for a moment. His eyes were staring at the ceiling. Under the dimmed lights she could see the glow-in-the-dark stars her dad had stuck all over her ceiling when she'd been about eight years old. They weren't quite glowing, but they gave off enough of a yellow/green hue against her stark white ceilings that you could make them out easily.

"They don't move," he said, more to himself than her.

"No," she answered his barely spoken question. "The Muggle version doesn't move. I wasn't aware there was a Wizarding version."

"I suppose there isn't. My mother had my ceiling enchanted to look like the night sky," he said, though she wasn't even sure he was talking to her. "I could see Draco shining in the distance…"

He seemed to realise where he was and who he was talking to and snapped his mouth shut. "These look pitifully fake," he said, his voice turning cold. It was as if he'd caught himself talking to her like a real, live human and had to correct that mistake immediately.

Hermione said nothing.

"Obviously your Muggle parents have a good deal of money," Malfoy finally said. It wasn't a question. He'd seen enough of the house to realise that Hermione came from privilege - perhaps not 'foreboding Manor on a hill' privilege, but a good deal of wealth, nonetheless.

The question did catch her by surprise, though. She wasn't shocked to learn he was surprised at her wealth, but she wondered where the question had come from. What was going on in his head that led him to ask her that?

She pursed her lips and said nothing. If he wanted to ask her something, he was going to have to ask it. "How?" he finally asked.

"How did they make a good deal of money? Or how did a Muggle manage to become wealthy when you believed until twelve hours ago that they all lived in abject poverty?" Hermione replied.

"Nevermind, Granger," Malfoy huffed.

So, it was 'Granger' when he was merely annoyed and 'Mudblood' when he was angry.

Hermione sighed and took pity upon him. "My parents came from money. Their parents were also wealthy. I'm descended from British nobility on my father's side - not that it matters." To tell the truth, she'd always hated her family's money. Sure, she enjoyed nice things but in primary school her ancestry made her a target for bullies. "My mother's family were originally French merchants and had amassed a fortune by the time she came around. My parents both became dentists." She didn't even wait for him to ask what a dentist was. She knew he hadn't a clue. "They tend to people's teeth. The muggle world doesn't have spells that rid your mouth of germs as efficiently, so they see dentists regularly and brush them with a special paste - like a potion."

She saw Malfoy bring his own hand absently to his mouth where he knew he'd not received proper care for five years. "I can check your teeth tomorrow," she said. He dropped his hand and glared at her, saying nothing.

She felt a bit proud of herself, actually. She'd gotten through that entire short lesson on her ancestry and parents without falling apart.

You can do this. You can exist in the world without them.

"Well, it's still a rather small house compared to many in our world," Malfoy concluded, finally. She wondered if he realised that he'd just included her in his world.

"True," Hermione said. "Hundreds of years ago, nobility lived more lavishly, had larger estates, took up more land. There was a wider gap between the rich and the poor. But after the late 19th and early 20th Century, Muggle Britain passed a number of laws that allowed common people more political capital. As power has become democratised, so too has wealth. There is still quite a long way to go," she added. "Poverty continues to be a problem in the Muggle world. There are, simply, many more mouths to feed than in our world."

"And many more people to pay to feed them," Malfoy pointed out.

"Touché," Hermione conceded. "But poverty is hardly wiped out in Wizarding Britain. And we certainly know that privilege isn't just about how much money you have. The Sacred Twenty-Eight have, until recently, wielded significant power over industry and the Ministry to the detriment of other families."

His face hardened then, and she realised she'd taken what had been a surprisingly civil argument too far. "If you build the world, you get to have a say in how it's run," he sneered.

There were no fewer than ten scathing retorts on the tip of her tongue at the moment.

What an arrogant arsehole. 'Built the world!' Draco-sodding-Malfoy had never built a Merlin-be-damned thing in his short life. Nor had Lucius Malfoy. Nor had Abraxas Malfoy. Imagine having your head up your own arse so far that the mere act of being born into an old family with money means you get to take credit for literally all of British civilisation.

However, it was late. Starting a fight with him before bed would have been a stupid kind of self-punishment, and she'd had a long enough day as it was. So, she let him think he'd won and said nothing. Perhaps another day she'd give it a go.

The silence stretched over the room like an oppressive force until she finally caved. 'I can give you a Sleeping Draught tonight, but this cannot become a habit. I don't want you to become addicted.'

"Oh yes," Malfoy snorted. "It might ruin my life. That would be a real travesty."

Getting up from her spot at the desk, she went to the cabinet where she'd warded the more dangerous potions and handed him a vial. "Drink up," she said. He did as he was told and didn't look at her as he handed back the glass vial.

"I'll see you in the morning," Hermione said, clicking the lights out completely, but Malfoy's strangled cry stopped her at the door.

"Not totally dark," he nearly begged. It was an urgency she'd yet to hear from him over the course of the never-ending day. "Please," he hissed the word as if it was a crime to have uttered it. Without comment Hermione clicked the desk lamp on and walked back toward the door. It was just enough light to keep the room from being dark but still conducive to rest.

In her room, she pulled her notebook out and made some end of day notes.

Subject 1 needed Sleeping Draught to sleep. Indicated that he suffers from insomnia regularly. Doesn't wish to be left in the dark. Pain reached a five before bed.

Subject 2 fell asleep - not comatose - under his own power. Will discuss pain levels tomorrow.

After putting her notebook away, she jotted off correspondence to Harry, Rilla, Padma, and Ron. She knew the latter would wonder where she was, and she didn't want to put Harry in the position of being the go-between. Ron was still sensitive about them 'keeping things from him'.

She sent the letters off with the Ministry Owl she'd been provided and climbed into bed. It took a while for her brain to shut off. It had been a monstrously long day. It felt like aeons ago that she'd received Padma's urgent Owl that Malfoy and Nott had arrived at St. Mungos' but none of the staff would allow her to treat them. Had that really been the same day?

She thought about what her next steps had to be. She had to find a way to touch The Marks. She'd have to do extensive diagnostics and magical testing on them and that would be impossible if both Malfoy and Nott became overcome by pain every time she tried. First thing in the morning, she'd talk to Padma and research how to numb them for those purposes. Then, she'd need to make a trip to Azkaban to see the other subjects. She'd also need to meet with Narcissa to get a baseline for how her health was doing without having The Mark.

Finally satisfied that she'd mapped out the next few days, she let herself roll over onto her side and shut her eyes. She was asleep in minutes.