Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J. K. Rowling does.

Warning: I do believe my story might end up being a wee bit dark.

A/N: Enjoy! Thank you for your support.

Chapter Seventeen

Edric's entire concentration was on Hermione. Against his will, his eyes softened in sympathy as he took notice of the pain etched in both her eyes and face. She seemed very frightened and dazed, not unlike the last time he had treated her. He was about to begin inspecting her wounds when he noticed that once he attempted to pull the blanket away from her body, she latched onto it with such force that her knuckles turned white.

He tried to pry it off once again in a gentler manner, but she still didn't let go of the blanket. She gripped at it as if her life depended on it. Edric's dark brows furrowed in confusion, he didn't understand the reasoning behind her reluctant behavior.

"Hermione, I need to see the full extent of your injuries," Edric said slowly, trying to soothe her.

She nodded quietly, looking as if she was about to cry.

"I know, it's just that…," her voice trailed off, and she looked over his shoulder.

The perplexed wizard took notice of the anxious glance she cast over his shoulder. He followed her gaze and suddenly became aware of his employer's presence. Draco was intently observing them, speculation gleaming in his eyes.

Edric wasn't too certain on the type of relationship that Draco had with Hermione and he also did not know what had happened to her. He stood there unmoving for a moment as he pondered on what to do.

On one hand he knew that the pallid witch would undoubtedly need Draco to give her a blood transfusion, and that keeping him close to her would speed up her healing process, but on the other hand he didn't know if Draco was the one responsible for her current pain. If her anxious glance was anything to go by, she didn't seem to want the grey-eyed wizard in close proximity.

He would have to ask her in private what happened to her. If Draco had hurt her, he would have to administer the blood-replenishing potion after he put her in a deep sleep in order to avoid causing her any sort of additional discomfort. Finally reaching a decision, he chose his next words carefully.

"Draco, would you like to wait outside while I examine her? I'll let you know when I'm done," announced the healer.

Cold, grey orbs rose to meet violet ones.

Edric was the first to look away as he busied himself with rummaging through his medical bag.

Draco was initially annoyed at the dismissal, but merely assumed his healer's question was more of a request to protect the mudblood's modesty than it was a suggestion. He inwardly rolled his eyes as he had already seen her naked more than once.

Edric subtly cleared his throat, urging Draco to leave.

The tall wizard sighed, squared his shoulders, and proceeded to step outside, forcing the sharp protective instincts clawing at him aside. He wasn't even aware he possessed such instincts. The last witch he had felt protective towards was his mother.

Hermione watched as Malfoy's tall, powerful frame seemed to become smaller with each retreating step. With every step he took, her discomfort increased. She let out a small, ragged sigh.

"No," protested Hermione. "Stay." She felt pathetic for asking him to stay yet again. She held her breath as she waited to see his reaction. The pain consuming her had stopped gaining momentum, but it was still more than she could bear.

Draco froze mid-step, but he didn't turn to look at her. The air in the room appeared to have left for he found himself having difficulty breathing. He hated to admit it, but sudden warmth flooded his icy heart at her words and he didn't like it. The warm feeling quickly subsided only to be replaced with indignation.

Who the hell did she think she was to command him as if he were a dog? His hands bunched into fists.

The nervous witch wondered if he was going to simply ignore her plea just as he had earlier and part of her really wished he didn't. She saw as his body stiffened and his large hands knotted into tight fists. The sight made a trickle of cold fear travel down her bruised back.

"Why, mudblood?" he questioned. His voice was clipped and full of derision.

Edric winced perceptibly at the derogatory term Draco used in reference to Hermione. Perhaps he had spent too much time listening to his girlfriend's tirades concerning muggle-borns and equality or maybe he had a soft spot for Hermione. Either way, he mutely shook his head at Draco's cruelty, wisely remaining quiet.

Ignoring the insult, Hermione let out her breath slowly and softly said, "The pain… It doesn't hurt as much when you're close."

"It's the blood bond," Edric explained matter-of-factly, as he continued rummaging through his medical bag. He was slightly surprised at how strong their blood bond was, despite them barely having had any physical contact for months. He finally took out the scarlet phial he was seeking from his leather bag and urged the witch to drink it. The phial contained a rare liquid known as Caen.

"Here, drink it," he advised, his voice gentle. Hermione began to tentatively drink it.

Completely disregarding the mudblood's request, Draco took long strides toward the double doors, intent on leaving her in the capable hands of his healer.

A sputtering, coughing sound followed by a low pain-filled moan made him whirl around.

Regret coiled in his belly as he saw the agony surfacing in her large eyes. She was taking small, ragged breaths and droplets of sweat were starting to reappear on her forehead.

Draco could practically feel Edric's frustrated glare.

Biting out a curse, he moved with impressive speed and stood as close as he could to her small form. He peered down at her and noticed she had lost consciousness. He reached down and intertwined his long, slender fingers with her much smaller ones.

He finally raised his gaze from her face.

Narrowed violet eyes bore into his. Draco had the urge to apologize to diffuse his healer's anger, but refrained from doing so. His pride wouldn't allow it. He never thought Edric had the ability to look so threatening.

"I thought she was lying," he said. His tone was defensive. How he hated the strange, unfamiliar feelings that the mudblood stirred within him.

"Did you think I was lying, too?" countered Edric.

"No," answered Draco, finally realizing that his previous statement also implicated his friend.

Edric heaved a sigh and said, "After I examine her and I administer a blood-replenishing potion, I'm going to have to procure another phial of Caen."

Draco straightened. "No, I don't want to risk her condition getting worse without you being here. I'll send someone else to get it," he decreed.

The violet-eyed healer nodded in understanding and commenced his examination, he then signaled Draco to hold her hand while he administered the blood-replenishing potion.

Afterwards, Draco summoned two house-elves. He ordered one of them to clean the bed, and sent the other to deliver a message to Theo.

The smaller house-elf started to efficiently clean the elaborate bed, and with Edric's parting permission, Draco picked up Hermione's small form and cradled her to his powerful chest. Her warm breath was fanning his neck and it made his body ache for her.

He had forgotten how pleasing her scent was. The caked blood that was still on her pliant body was, dare he think it, making her scent seem even more alluring. He nuzzled her neck and had a sudden urge to bite her.

"Bed is done, Master," announced the house-elf.

Thankful for the timely intervention, Draco shook his head in disgust at his disturbing thoughts.

He carefully placed Hermione back onto his bed and waited for Edric to finish whatever it was he was doing out in the hallway.

Peering down, the disturbed wizard noticed that the coat he handed to her was now bloodied. He unconsciously inhaled, savoring the aroma. Her blood made him feel dizzy.

"Stupid mudblood," spat Draco in a barely audible voice.

Since he had to retain physical contact with her, he had limited mobility. He knew that it would not take long for Theo to acquire the items he had asked for, one of which was a nightgown, but he couldn't wait. Her blood was driving him mad.

"Elf, go to the closet and get me something comfortable for her to wear," he ordered.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to block out her intoxicating scent. He was beginning to feel exhaustion creep into his bones. He licked his dry lips.

He was thirsty, very thirsty.

"Master," said a timid voice. Draco opened his heavy eyelids. The fucking house-elf was holding out one of his mother's old nightgowns as some sort of offering. When he had said closet, he had meant his closet, certainly not his mother's.

Nobody, absolutely nobody, was allowed into his mother's deserted room.

Fury burned his in belly at the house-elf's audacity.

. . .

Edric just got done talking to Luna on the phone, when a blood-curdling scream spurred him into action.

He threw open the ornate double doors and grimaced at the sight before him.

. . .

"What the hell is he playing at?" said Theo, incredulity very evident in his voice. His eyes glared at the spot in the room from which the elf had appeared and disappeared from.

Blaise regarded him with curiousity, and simply quirked an eyebrow in question.

"What? You're going to tell me you believe what the elf just said to me?" asked the brunet.

"Why would he lie?" retorted Blaise, amusement creeping into his lively eyes. The idea of Theo buying undergarments and a nightgown for a witch was funny. He stifled a laugh.

Theo snorted and explained, "Because it doesn't make sense."

Blaise silently agreed with Theo that Draco's strange and specific list made very little sense, but he didn't doubt the veracity of the house-elf's words.

"Retti wouldn't lie," he defended. He was fond of the house elf, mainly because he was one of the very few house-elves that fluently spoke Italian in the country.

"Retti?" echoed Theo. "How can you tell them apart?" In his opinion, all house-elves essentially looked the same and had no distinguishing characteristics, aside from their names.

The thin wizard merely rolled his eyes at his companion's ignorance.

After giving a casual shrug of indifference in response to Blaise's eye movement, Theo rose from the chair he was currently occupying, and yawned. "I'll be back soon," he informed.

"After all, the elf said this was an emergency," he added, a sardonic smile playing on his fatigued face.

Theo really couldn't fathom why Draco needed women's clothing and a Clan phial. Or was it a Cain phial? His tired, cumbersome brain couldn't quite recall what the elf had said to him. He temporarily entertained the idea of asking Draco, and at the same time verifying that the verbal list presented by the elf was actually real, but he really didn't want to risk angering Draco nor running into that idiotic healer.

He shuddered as he recalled the strange menacing aura that occasionally surrounded Draco.

"Hey," he found himself asking Blaise, "What was the name of the phial or potion I'm supposed to get? I forgot." He released another yawn.

"Tired?" Blaise asked with a grin, because he couldn't help himself.

Theo narrowed his heavy eyes in response. Blaise looked fresh and rested. He, on the other hand, probably looked partially, if not fully dead.

The jovial wizard grinned. "It's called Caen," he enunciated with precision.

"Where can I find some?" inquired Theo.

"If I were you, I'd check Luna's shop," replied Blaise.

"Luna's shop?" echoed Theo.

"Yes, the owner of the shop is named Luna, hence the name 'Luna's Shop'. Make sense?" replied Blaise in an intentionally slow pace, looking at Theo as if he were mentally deficient.

If Theo's pointed glare was anything to go by, he didn't enjoy being ridiculed.

Blaise released a heavy sigh and added, "Luna Lovegood? You can't tell me you don't remember her."

"I remember her very well," confirmed Theo, his hazel eyes quickly brightening. He suddenly didn't feel so tired anymore.

Blaise was about to inform his now excited companion that Luna had a tendency of closing early when a horrifying sound reached his ears. He stilled and looked over at Theo.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, his cerulean eyes widening.