A/N: Thanks so much for your continued support. I love reading each of your reviews. Thanks again to my wonderful alpha: LaDeeDaa and exceptional beta: astrangefan.
Blood Heist
"Okay, hold on," Padma said, her quill jotting notes quickly as Hermione explained her plan. "I want to make a list of all the things we'll need. Most of this we can get without resorting to grand theft."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow at her friend. When Padma had arrived, they'd hunkered down in her father's old study so that she could have access to the internet in helping explain her plan to the Healer. She was surprised to realise that while Padma wasn't especially adept with Muggle medicine, it wasn't unheard of for Healers to have some experience with it. Magical accidents that affected Muggles were usually treated by magical Healers, after all. Those magical Healers often had to implement Muggle medical procedures.
"Blood is going to be tricky," Padma said, still writing. "We just don't use it - especially because of the power it holds in magical rites. I wouldn't know where to begin with the typing process you describe. You say that different kinds of blood can kill people?" She was clearly academically very interested in the topic, but Hermione wanted to keep her focused. They could discuss all the aspects of blood transfusions after they got the plan down.
"I don't see how we can avoid stealing the blood," Hermione said. "If I were to petition the clinic in Geneva for a supply there would not only be a lot of questions, but it could take weeks. I want to avoid anyone finding out about this if it isn't strictly necessary, and I want to do it the day after tomorrow."
"Day after tomorrow…" Padma gasped. "I suppose I understand why, but Merlin…"
"I know," Hermione said, biting her lip. "It's a monumental ask, Pads. I know the timeline is insane, but with the curse moving and the Rakov brothers in Romania planning Merlin knows what we have to move quickly. Besides, if the blood offering is substantial, I won't be able to remove Draco's mark until several days after Theo's…"
"No, I understand," Padma said, instantly. "I've got to get this list finished. If you want to have these things at Hogwarts by Wednesday, I'll be on the Floo the better part of the rest of the day."
"Speaking of Hogwarts," Hermione said as McGonagall's owl pecked at the window above her father's old fax machine. She let the owl in and pet its feathers softly as she took the letter it carried on its leg.
"Harry must have told her the news," she said, and she was, admittedly, apprehensive. It was silly, really. Minerva McGonagall hadn't held any authority over her in six years. She'd worked with her professionally - as equals - more than once since. But she also knew the older woman would hardly approve of her plan, and she couldn't help that part of her that desperately did not want to disappoint the woman she respected so much.
"Remember when McGonagall gave you a dangerous time-turner just so you could take more classes than the rest of us?" Padma asked, grinning up at Hermione. Padma had actually been incredibly put out when she'd first heard that story, but she'd gotten over being one-upped by Hermione academically long ago. "A woman who would do that understands living in the morally grey area."
Hope you are right, Pads.
Ms. Granger,
I will make sure the Hospital Wing as well as Madam Pomfrey are made available to you as long as you need. Please send an owl when you know when you and your charges will arrive.
I trust you implicitly, but I must admit I'm concerned about the presence of Draco Malfoy in the school. The last time he entered the Halls of Hogwarts he let in myriad Death Eaters which damaged the school significantly. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?
I will, of course, trust your judgement. My only condition is that I will be setting one of the Hogwarts guards on alert during his stay. They will not interfere in any event outside of protecting the school. I hope you understand.
Yours,
Minerva
"Well, it was much better than I expected," Hermione said, handing the letter over to Padma who scanned it.
"Okay, well, let's go over this list one more time - make sure we aren't missing anything. Then, I'll start collecting supplies. You'll be in charge of getting the blood, Muggle potions…"
"Prescriptions," Hermione interrupted automatically.
"Right. Prescriptions," Padma corrected, taking no offence. "If I have trouble getting anything else I'll send you a Patronus."
"Thank you, Pads," Hermione said, smiling warmly at her friend.
"So, who wants to break into a Muggle Hospital?" Hermione asked, smiling nervously at Harry and Ron and clasping her hands together to keep from fidgeting.
Confidence, Hermione.
They'd come the minute she'd asked, a wary look exchanged between the both of them as she greeted them. She knew that lately her 'asks' had been quite monumental.
"This is barmy, Hermione," Ron said. "I regret even telling you about the blood rituals. I should have known you'd offer up yourself."
"Yes, by now, you should have known that," Harry said, but his tone was more tired than chiding. Harry looked exhausted. Hermione felt the guilt of what she'd laid at his feet. She knew that he'd rather have been helping just about anyone other than Draco Malfoy, and he was doing it entirely because of her.
"Ron, I have to do this," she said, addressing the more temperamental of her two best friends. "Padma and I have gone over the plan, and I will be fine," Hermione assured him. "I have no desire to die."
Ron sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he would often do when she was working his last nerve. "Okay," he said. "Let's say we do this."
Hermione pursed her lips.
We are doing this, Ron.
"How are we just going to walk into a hospital and take their blood? And what about the Muggles who need it?" he asked. They weren't absurd questions - though she had already considered them.
"Honestly, a few confundus charms will get us what we need. I can even buy all of the prescriptions over the counter except the iron infusions. We will be in and out in all of thirty minutes," Hermione assured her friend. She sounded more confident than she was, but she did think her plan would work.
"How are you going to get into the Pharmacy?" Harry asked. He knew a lot more about Muggle hospitals than Ron. It was a good question - one Hermione hadn't wanted to divulge her solution to. While hospitals were easy enough to get in and out of unnoticed, Pharmacies were not.
"I'll Imperius the tech," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Do not pick a fight with me, Harry Potter.
Ron was the one who gasped. "Hermione, you can't!"
"I can," she said. "It will be short, sweet, and I'll obliviate them after." Once again, she sounded significantly more confident than she felt. While both Ron and Harry had cast an Unforgivable during the war, she had not. She didn't take it lightly, but she also knew there was likely no other way to get what she needed. If it stopped this curse, if it helped stop the Rakov Brothers, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.
"Hermione, listen to yourself," Harry said, shaking his head in unmistakable disappointment.
"It's not like we've never cast an Unforgivable before," she pointed out. Ron and Harry, after all, had. She was complicit in both instances. How different was it to be the caster?
"Yes, to kill the darkest wizard of all time!" Harry shouted. "Not so that your boyfriend could be cured of a curse he asked for!"
Hermione took a full step back and felt tears in the corner of her eyes, but she swallowed hard. She was not going to cry. Sucking in a deep breath she closed her eyes and counted to ten.
He's scared for you.
"Hermione…" Harry started, and she could hear the near panic in his voice.. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he'd deeply regretted what he'd said and he clutched at the air like he intended to grab the words and shove them back into his mouth.
"No," she said, holding up her hand to stop the myriad apologies she could see coming to his mind. "I understand that you don't get why this is so important to me. I understand that you worry I've lost perspective. But I'll do this by myself if I have to."
She looked between her two best friends and shrugged. "Are you going to arrest me?"
Both of them sighed in unison, "Of course not, Hermione," Ron said. "Let's go over the bloody plan. I'll go with you. Harry can stay here with the bloody snakes for once."
Hermione nodded her head and began to explain her plan.
"Tempus," Hermione whispered as she and Ron stood in the Royal Marsden Hospital in Sutton.
1:00pm.
If she'd had more time, she would have picked a less busy time to break into a hospital blood bank and pharmacy. At midday on a Tuesday, she couldn't imagine a time less ideal for a heist. Luckily, she and Ron had magic on their side and Ron - though reluctant - had agreed to take her lead. Besides, his confundus was legendary, rivaling even hers.
Hermione had little time to prepare, which was not her style and it made her skin itch with anxiety. Luckily, she knew a thing or two about this particular hospital, having been there a number of times. It was one reason she'd picked it. Of course, the other reason was that it had the largest in-house blood bank in a fifty-kilometre radius.
"Right," she said more to herself than Ron. "I'll get under the cloak with the cool box, you are going to tell the nurse at the front desk that you are here to see your dear Aunt Petunia," Ron snorted, "Fifth Floor."
"Why don't you talk to the Muggles," Ron nearly whined. It was an unattractive look, but Hermione ignored it. "You know more about Muggle medicine."
"Because, Ron," Hermione said with an exaggerated sigh, "I'm not one-hundred feet tall. I can still fit under the cloak."
"Rude, but fair," Ron finally conceded. "Alright. Aunt Petunia, fifth floor." He nodded to himself, repeating it a few more times before looking at Hermione and giving her what she interpreted as a look of confidence.
Good enough.
"Let's do it."
Ron nodded and walked toward the main entrance of the hospital, Hermione following close enough behind to touch his back. He took a deep breath before entering through the automatic doors. "Merlin's beard," she heard him mutter to himself as he jumped in surprise when they opened by themselves. Hermione really had to concentrate to suppress the giggle that was working its way toward her lips.
He collected himself quickly, fiddling with his sleeve where she knew he had his wand sheathed, and moved at a hurried clip toward the front desk. There sat a cheery woman of around sixty.
"How may I direct you, dear?" the woman asked, her eyes kind as she waited for Ron to speak.
"Uh, er, yes," Ron said awkwardly. "I'm here to see my Aunt Petunia. She's on the fifth floor." Hermione mentally cheered him on as he got his lines exactly right.
"Of course, dear," said the woman behind the desk. "Take this," she handed Ron a sticker with the word 'visitor' printed in blue across it. "The lifts are just down this corridor and to the left. You'll see a sign."
"Thank you," Ron said, quickly before smiling at the woman and turning to follow her directions. He absent-mindedly affixed the sticker to his shirt, sighing when he realized he'd put it on upside down. "Bugger all," he groaned as he peeled it off and reapplied it right side up.
"Now the adhesive doesn't work," he complained. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Forget the bloody sticker," she hissed at him.
"Oh, right." He left the sticker peeling at all four corners and continued down the passage to the lifts.
Once in the lift, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. First obstacle crossed. If the woman at the front desk wanted any details about 'Aunt Petunia' they would have had to confund her. She seemed like a nice lady and Hermione was glad they hadn't found the need.
"Okay," Hermione said from under the cloak at Ron's side, "When we get off at the fifth floor, we are going to turn right and walk all the way down a very long corridor to the Pharmacy. The blood bank is located there as well. Follow my lead. You are only here to confund or obliviate."
Ron nodded and patted his wand again unconsciously.
The first snag in their plan came in the form of a well-meaning nurse who just happened to be getting onto the elevator as they were set to get off. She eyed his visitor's badge and smiled brightly, "May I help you, sir?" she asked.
"Oh, er, I'm here to see my Aunt Petunia," he said weakly as Hermione edged out of the lift ever so carefully so as not to bump the nurse.
"Petunia…Petunia. Are you sure you have the right floor? This is a cardio unit. I don't recall the name…"
"Bugger all," Ron muttered to himself. His wand was out quickly, 'Confundus.' The nurse's eyes glassed over and she stumbled back slightly. Ron used the opportunity to squeeze past her, out of the elevator, and some distance down the hall before turning around and pointing his wand back at her. "Obliviate," he said, as he took the last thirty seconds from her memory. Hermione watched as the nurse straightened out, smiled once more and pressed the elevator button as if nothing had happened.
Hallelujah.
'Whew,' Ron said, voicing her silent relief. He picked up his pace and began to move quicker down the deserted hall. "Feels wrong," he said, "cursing Muggles."
"They aren't curses, and they will come to no harm," Hermione reminded him.
"Yeah, I know," Ron huffed. "Still."
"I don't like it either," Hermione admitted. "Let's just get this over with."
They walked with purpose down the corridor, grateful that the Pharmacy was not near other patient rooms or nurses' stations. "There," Hermione said as the Pharmacy sign came into view.
With hurried steps, they were soon standing in front of the locked door of the Hospital Pharmacy. There was a small, unmanned window next to the door where Hermione assumed doctors and nurses went drop off and pick up orders.
"Alohamora," Hermione whispered, and the door instantly opened to her.
Thank Merlin.
She couldn't have asked for things to go smoother.
"Hurry in," she whispered and Ron did as she bade, her close on his heels. The door clicked loudly behind him and Hermione tensed.
"Oi! Who are you! How did you get in!" a tall, dark-haired Pharmacist marched toward them from a back room down the hall, his eyes blazing with anger.
Hermione threw off the invisibility cloak at once and watched as the man's eyes doubled and his steps halted for a moment. "What the bloody hell…" Before he could even process what he was seeing, Hermione unsheathed her wand and aimed it directly at him.
"Imperio," Hermione felt her throat sting and her wand hand tingle as she cast the curse. The Unforgivables were not only Dark but they were strong curses. She felt the faintest touch of the man's fear, but she mentally instructed him to calm, relax.
Silently, she demanded he show her to the blood bank. Without even a moment's hesitation, the man turned around and walked back from whence he came. Hermione and Ron followed. Turning through a maze of hallways, he finally opened the door to a large, refrigerated room and led them inside.
Hermione quickly opened the cool box and set it on the ground. "Type B negative, Ron. It's very important. It says the blood type right here on the front,' she said holding up a bag of Type O blood nearest to her.
"Oi, Hermione. This is disgusting," Ron said, making a face.
Hermione huffed in irritation. Her nerves were fried and the effect of holding the Dark spell was toying with her emotions. "It's the same stuff running through your veins. Now help me!"
Ron shuddered one more time, but he quickly got to work looking for where the B negative blood was stored. "Load twelve bags in here," she instructed. "I'm going to get him to take me to the iron IV bags."
Without another word she silently instructed the Pharmacist who was swaying back and forth and humming to himself to take her to the iron infusions. He followed her orders without interrupting his tune and led her back toward the front of the Pharmacy where he pointed to a section of amber colored IV bags.
Jackpot.
She took four for good measure and left the man behind as she rushed back to the blood room where she found Ron putting bag after bag of whole blood into her magically extended cool box.
"Seven, eight," he counted to himself. He went back to grab two more than tossed them in and shut the box. "Let's get out of here," he said.
Hermione could tell the nerves were catching up to him, and her anxiety was already on high. She wanted to end the Imperius as quickly as possible. They got what they needed, now they just needed to get out.
She quickly swung the cool box strap over her shoulder and she and Ron rushed back to the Pharmacist who was still humming his tune, now sitting in his chair, twirling in circles. Hermione cancelled her Imperius curse and they didn't even wait for the dread of reality to settle over the poor man before she Obliviated him of the last thirty minutes of his life for good measure. Hermione pulled the cloak back over herself and they rushed from the Pharmacy while the memory spell took hold.
"Go," Hermione instructed. "Right back out the way we came."
Ron nodded and they walked quickly back to the lifts on the fifth floor passing a few doctors who paid them no mind. Finally, they reached the elevators which were, thankfully, free of nurses with questions. Ron pressed the button to go down and tapped the wall anxiously as they waited.
It seemed like an eternity as the lift rose to meet them. Floor 2, 3, 4…
Hurry the fuck up!
With a ding, the elevator opened, but it was not empty, much to Ron and Hermione's frustration. A man stood near the back of the lift, his phone in hand, and Hermione nearly pushed Ron in.
Four floors, we can make it.
The man on his phone never once lifted his eyes from it until they made their destination on the first floor. Hermione felt Ron let out a breath he'd probably been holding for the full length of the lift ride.
Turning to go back the way they entered, Ron walked as fast as his long legs could carry him and Hermione had to run to keep up. Breathlessly, they exited the glass automatic doors, the novelty of them now lost on Ron who was clearly just happy to have finished the task without the Ministry being alerted that he'd broken about fifty different laws - as an Auror no less.
"Come on," Hermione huffed through panting breaths. "We can apparate over there, just out of sight."
The minute they moved around the building and out of sight of Muggles they apparated directly into Hermione's garden. She immediately felt relief roll down her back like a warm shower. However, as relieved as she was, she still felt an uncomfortable sort of anxiety coursing through her.
"Never again," Ron said, breathing hard next to her. "Merlin, Hermione, that was scarier than Voldemort."
"Where were you two?" a voice asked from behind them. Hermione saw Theo pulling weeds in her mother's old hydrangea bed and smiled.
"Not for you to worry," she assured him. "Just a little errand."
"Errand my arse, Hermione," Ron said dramatically. But after a moment he seemed to forget the heist completely as he rubbed his stomach and asked if she had any food in the house.
Hermione laughed. "Check the refrigerator. Draco probably has made some pretentious lunch and has left overs."
"Draco Malfoy?" Ron said, his mouth turned down in a frown. "I'll pass. I'll just grab a snack, then."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself. Will you take this inside?" She handed off the cool box to Ron who nodded as he heaved the thing on his own shoulder and trudged into the house.
"So, what are we doing?" Hermione asked Theo, waving at the dead flower bed he seemed to be tending.
"Oh, well, to be honest, digging weeds seemed much more comfortable than the thick tension between Potter and Draco," Theo admitted. "After Potter told Draco that he'd never do anything in his life to earn your compassion and sacrifice, and after Draco was…Draco, I decided to see myself out."
Oh no.
"How bad is it?" she asked, sitting in the lawn chair nearby. "Maybe I'll just stay out here forever too."
Theo chuckled. "Not too bad. Potter has every right not to trust us. But I admit I am biased. Draco never gets the benefit of the doubt - and I suppose he's burned enough bridges to earn that reputation. But he's done everything to protect me that he was capable of, so I'm always going to be on his side."
"As it should be," Hermione said. "Just as I told Harry, I don't expect anyone to change their minds about anyone based on my experience with those people. But I have, unfortunately, surrounded myself with some of the most head-strong men on the face of the planet, and so I suppose I'm a glutton for this kind of punishment."
Theo's lips twitched with an amused sort of smile. "There are worse things," he said ironically.
"When you say. 'Draco was Draco,' what do you mean?" she finally asked, not really knowing if she wanted the answer. She had an idea what it meant, and it wasn't great.
"His resentment for Potter runs deep. Whether right or wrong, he still blames him for how things happened with his family," Theo admitted. "That's not to say he didn't want Potter to win the war or vanquish The Dark Lord. He's conflicted. He knows Potter saved the Wizarding World. He knows that everything would be far worse if he hadn't - at least for the majority of people. But he also can't help but remember that his life began to fall apart when Lucius went to Azkaban, and Potter was the one who sent him there for all intents and purposes. There's also the fact that his mother still rots in Azkaban while Potter owes her a life debt."
Hermione sighed. "I understand - not so much about Lucius. Draco must know that his father brought that on himself, but about Narcissa. I understand. I think even Harry realises he could have and should have done more. I'm not entirely convinced that his assistance with this entire thing doesn't have at least some part to do with the guilt he feels about that."
Theo nodded. "For what it is worth, I don't have any ill will toward Potter. My father is the only person to blame for what happened to me. Potter was dealt a difficult hand and he managed what no one else could - not even the supposed Greatest Wizard in the World," Theo's rolled eyes showed him that he actually did not believe Dumbledore to be anything of the kind.
Hermione chuckled. "You don't think leaving children blind with half the information to vanquish one of the darkest wizards in history was wise?" she asked sarcastically.
"Nice to know not all you Gryffindor lot worship old Albus," he quipped.
Hermione shrugged. "I suppose he thought he was doing the right thing. And I understand some of his decisions, but there is no denying that his paranoia led to a longer, more drawn-out conflict that got more people killed."
"Anyway," she said getting up, "I've avoided it long enough. I'll leave you to your weeding."
"Good luck," Theo waved, stifling a chuckle.
When she entered the house, she saw Ron standing at the island inhaling the previous night's pot roast and Yorkshire pudding. She laughed as he stopped midbite, an alarmed look on his face as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"He's a right foul git, Hermione, but he can cook," he defended. She just shook her head with a grin and moved past him to the hall and up the stairs.
"I don't actually care what you think, Potter," she heard as she reached the top of the landing. It was the old Draco's voice, sneering and condescending. She sighed.
Merlin, help me with these men.
"Sure you do," she heard Harry reply. Admittedly, he sounded as if he was not rising to Draco's bait.
Small mercies.
"You care about Hermione," Harry said, and Hermione's heart nearly stopped in her chest. She stopped breathing to hear better. "I don't understand it. I don't particularly care for it. But any fool can see that you do. So, I think you care a great deal what I think."
Hermione swallowed, tipping her ear closer to hear if Draco had anything to respond to that. He apparently did not. There was a long silence that Hermione decided to interrupt. Taking a deep breath, she rounded the corner and headed straight for Draco and Theo's room.
Draco was sitting at the desk, fiddling with the spare parchment she had sitting there. Harry was over by her bookcase, facing away as she walked in. "So, what did I miss?" she asked, pretending she'd heard nothing.
Harry turned around immediately. "Did you get it? Were there any problems?"
"Got it. No major problems to speak of," she reported. "It's in the cool box ready for transfer."
Harry sighed and nodded. "And what about potential shortage? I don't want the hospital to run out."
"I already thought of that," Hermione said. "It will take a few days - luckily B negative blood isn't that common so it likely won't be needed before we can replace it. I've arranged for an extra shipment to arrive this weekend."
"Good," Harry nodded. "Did you have to…"
"Yes," Hermione answered his unspoken question. "I only had to use it on the Pharmacist and he was left in perfectly healthy condition," she promised.
Harry let out a long breath, looking down at the floor for a long moment before nodding. "Okay," he said. Hermione could tell he'd processed and come to terms with her use of an Unforgivable. They wouldn't dwell on it further, and she was glad. She hadn't enjoyed using it. In fact, she'd felt miserable about it. Still did, a bit.
"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, looking between Harry and Hermione.
"In order to get the blood, Hermione had to cast an Imperio on the Muggle Pharmacist," Harry explained, and Hermione noticed he had zeroed in on Draco to take in his reaction. Draco, however, was far too practised in self-control. He gave nothing away except a twitch of his fingers which Hermione was sure she was the only one who noticed.
"Thank you for staying, Harry. I'm sure you'll want to get back to Parvati." She knew that Harry would be stationed at Hogwarts for the next several days.
"Right," Harry said with a quick nod. "I'll meet you at Hogwarts this evening?'
"Let's floo together," Hermione suggested, walking him from the room and to the stairs.
"Harry," she said before he began to descend them. "I know you don't want to do this, and I know you don't understand. Still, thank you."
His face, which until that moment had been sort of stoney and detached softened. "Hermione, you know we'd do just about anything for you."
She pulled him into a tight hug and sent him down to collect Ron and Floo home.
When she got back to Draco's room, he'd moved from the desk to the potions cabinet. He was looking for something rather urgently. "Do you need help?" she asked. "Are you in pain?"
His intense eyes flitted up to hers for a moment. "Calming Draught, and it's for you. Not me."
"Why?" That was just about the last thing she'd expected him to say.
"You cast an Unforgivable," he said as if it was obvious. "You are going to want the Calming Draught. That pent up anxiety you feel running through you right now? It will only get worse without it."
Hermione had thought the feeling - like she needed to jump out of her own skin - was just a result of having pulled off a barely planned blood heist. She had no idea it was a response to the spell she'd cast. Though, now that she had a second to think about it, this particular sensation started when she cast the spell and hadn't quite gone away since.
When he finally found the vial he was looking for, he held it out to her and she drank it obediently. "I didn't know," she said.
He scoffed. "You shouldn't cast spells if you don't know their effects," he said.
"Did you know the effect when you used it?" she countered.
"No," Draco admitted. "But I wouldn't look to me as a model for how to do anything."
Hermione snorted at that.
"Thank you, Draco," she said, placing the empty vial on the desk. "How long does it last?"
"It depends. When I cast it on Madam Rosemerta she fought it very hard. I felt ill for days. But when I cast it in training with Aunt Bellatrix, the effects were minimal. Though, it can sometimes make the cruciatus effects worse - using Dark spells," Draco informed her.
"Perfect," she muttered. "Well, at least it's done. We have the blood, and we'll start tomorrow with removing Theo's Mark."
"Potter isn't going to let you kill yourself," he said, but it seemed he was speaking more to himself than her.
"I'm not going to die, Draco."
"If not for you, if not for me, if not for Potter and the Weasel and the myriad Gryffindors who surely worship you, please remember that Theo has been through enough. Being the cause of your death is something he won't recover from," Draco said, his voice tight as if he was desperately trying to control the emotion behind what he was saying. His hands were trembling, and she reached out and held them in her own.
"Draco…" she said, lifting one of her hands to brush against his cheek.
He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. "I wouldn't do that to Theo, and I wouldn't do that to you," Hermione promised. "I won't die. Please trust me."
"I don't trust well," Draco admitted.
"I know," Hermione said. "But try."