AN: So again for not posting in a long time, reality is so distracting sometimes, particularly when I keep having major writer's block, so thank you so sticking with this. And thank you to my reviewers; CantYouSeeImReading and I was BOTWP, it's so good to know my readers thoughts and it's you guys I keep posting for, so thank you!
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Chapter Thirty Two: The Risks of a Cure.
"Granger?" Draco placed a large, gentle hand on her shoulder to wake the sleeping Witch, "Granger?"
"What is it? What's wrong? Who's there?" In an instant, she was hyper alert and twitching as if she was trying to take in her invisible environment in a mere matter of seconds. War bred paranoia and an ultra-awareness of your surroundings at all times. Her wand was clenched in one hand and her other gripped the bedsheets, as if she was ready to leap from the hospital bed and fight to the death.
"Nothing's wrong, Granger, calm down." Malfoy shook his head and reached for her hand on the bedsheet, "It's just me."
"Malfoy." She nodded to herself for reassurance and quickly reclaimed her composure, "What time is it?"
"About five thirty." He reported with a slight shrug, barely fazed by the typically unsociable hour he had awoken her.
"In the morning?" She let out a surprised laugh, "Is there any reason why you are waking me up at the crack of dawn?"
"Yes." Pressing the now warm vial into her now relaxed hand, he stepped back as she gasped in realisation.
Hermione held up the think glass tube, as if she could look at it closer. Her fingertips brushing over and over the vial in wonder. It was warm and smooth, the cork waxy. But Magic tingled on her fingertips, as if her Essence understood the contents, and she let out a shuddering gasp as a stray bloody tear ran from the corner of her mutilated eyelid. Looking up in amazement, a smile spilled onto her lips.
"Draco? You did it?" The amount of disbelief in her tone would have insulted him usually, yet the look of gratitude she was giving him held his tongue from retorting sharply, "You made finished the cure?"
"Every last drop Granger." He proudly smirked, years of carefully honed skills contained in that vial, "Finally bested you at potions."
"In your dreams." She gave an amused laugh and rolled the vial delicately between her fingers, "So, may I?" Pinching the cork top, her excitement to start her healing process caused the vial to shiver and shake with her.
"Easy Granger." Resting a pale hand over hers, he waited for her to look up in disappointed confusion, "It's…it's going to be worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Dark Mark isn't for healing; it'll take twice as much as you'll gain."
"I know." Raising her chin, she pretended she was levelling her famous glare at him, "But it won't kill me. I will try anything to regain myself." The ferocity in her tone and taunt features spoke of fierce determination of a decision well considered. He knew she would rather walk the line of death than give up.
"I know." He shook his head, wondering if he could risk such a decision, "Gryffindor bravery and all that rubbish."
"Have courage, Draco, and be kind while I'm gone." Throwing him the type of superior, all knowing smirk that would rival his own on a smug day, she uncorked the vial and threw it back without another thought.
Malfoy watched as the vile looking sludge passed her lips and coated her mouth. She didn't seem to notice or mind the hideous stench emitting from the offence potion, and he had to force himself not to step back and gag at her actions. Clenching his fists, he watched her reactions closely. Her cheek jumped, her jaw gulped, and her hand tightened on the vial. She would drink every last drop to bring back her independence.
Within a second, she dropped her suddenly limp hand to her lap, the vial empty and smoking like it would spontaneously combust at any moment should there be an ounce of potion left within its glass confines. Hermione's skin paled to a sickly grey and emanated disturbing cold even from this distance, her body now as still as a corpse's. Even her breathing shuddered out only once more and stopped.
Malfoy panicked. With this kind of potion, you couldn't guarantee correct brewing unless adverse effects were presented by the drinker, by which point it would be too late to save the victim from certain, painful death. But he had been so sure he had recreated it perfectly. Snape had trained him relentlessly in these last few years to counteract Dark Magic, as if the Potions' Master knew Draco would need it for this exact reason, as if it was even possible a Malfoy could produce something wholly good at all. His nerves were stretched thin along his backbone as he watched the unresponsive Witch.
Then, without any subtle warning, Granger wretched forcefully forward. Her spine curved grotesquely and she vomited much of the previously consumed liquid over her lap in a putrid waterfall of bile and potion. Barely pausing to breathe, she suddenly flung the vial away with deadly force. Draco narrowly ducked the item and readied his wand, as an eardrum piercing scream scratched its way from her lungs and she began to spasm wildly, inflicting violence and injury on herself and her environment.
Her Magic sparked in the air, like a crackling current, spontaneously combusting and turning the Hospital Wing into a miniature version of what he believed Hell should be like. A set of curtains caught fire and the potions bubbling ideally on the desk suddenly exploded, as the temperature of the room hit freezing and below, while Draco tried to contain the damage with frenzied wrist movements and hastily said words.
In one of the most oddly disbelieving moments of his life, Draco hoped that the Order would come flooding in head first. As they always foolishly seemed to opportunely do when the slightest second of danger illuminated itself, as it was only in their nature to come to the aid of any and all. He hoped they would quickly aid in containing the volatile Witch as he defended against her crazed, unconscious attack. But, he would deny any such preposterous wish if asked.