Draco gave a short nod, his expression brittle. “I had to bring you here. I can't summon healers to Muggle London.” Draco grabbed a pile of robes. Hermione recognized them as his Death Eater uniform. He pulled them on rapidly. “I didn't expect to leave you here alone.”
He leaned towards her, and his fingers ghosted along her wrist. “I swear, the wards won't let anyone onto the estate. You'll be safe. I'll come back.”
His pupils were dilated as he stared down at her. She recognised the terror in his eyes.
“I'll come back. No one can come here. You'll be safe until I get back,” he said again. “Topsy, take care of Granger.”
Draco pulled his mask on and looked down at her for a split-second longer before he vanished from the room.
Hermione stared at the spot he'd disappeared from, trying to absorb the fact that she was lying paralysed, alone, in Malfoy Manor.
Hermione looked up at the ceiling and heard the house-elf, Topsy, fidget beside her. Hermione pressed her lips together for several seconds, trying to decide where to begin.
“Does Kreacher come here often?” Hermione finally asked, turning her eyes to look at Topsy.
Topsy stared back at Hermione with her enormous eyes and nodded. “Kreacher is coming most months to see the master. Kreacher serves the Noble House of Black. The master is being the last Black left.”
“I see.” Hermione was seething internally. “What does Kreacher do when he comes to see Draco?”
“He is telling the master about Granger and the Order of the Phoenix. And Kreacher is maintaining Mistress Malfoy and Mistress Lestrange's grave sites. That is how the master was finding that Kreacher serves the House of Black still.”
Hermione looked back up that ceiling and licked her lips. “How long has Draco known that?'
“Topsy is not knowing, Topsy is thinking it was maybe for a year.”
Hermione pressed her lips together as she reviewed the timeline of her interactions with Draco. “What kinds of things does Kreacher tell Draco about me and the Order of the Phoenix?”
Topsy shifted and her eyes dropped to the floor. “Topsy is not knowing. Master is mostly talking to Kreacher alone.”
Hermione rolled her jaw. “How often does Draco come here?”
“He is not coming here so much. Topsy and the elves is doing their best, but he is not liking to be here. He is only coming to meet Death Eaters and visit Mistress Malfoy's grave.”
There was a silence as Hermione struggled to decide what to ask next.
“Do — do you know what happened to the healers Draco brought here to heal me?”
Topsy was silent.
“Did he kill them?” Hermione's voice rose sharply.
“Topsy is not knowing.”
Hermione let out a quick gasp and fell silent for several minutes.
“Is the Miss Granger wanting anything?” Topsy stepped closer and stared at Hermione. “Topsy can be bringing food, or tea, or broths, or whatever the miss is needing.”
“No. I don't need anything except for my bones to finish growing so I can move.” Hermione wanted to explode with rage. She was going to kill Kreacher.
How had the Order overlooked such a horrific vulnerability? If Kreacher was willing to kidnap her out of Grimmauld Place at Draco's request, what else could Draco have used him for?
She lay there while her mind raced. She managed to twitch her fingers slightly and experimented with how much she could move.
Draco returned after an hour. His apparition was silent, but Hermione saw him immediately.
She could turn her head a bit. She studied him, looking for any sign that he might be injured. His expression was tense, but there was nothing that indicated he was hurt or had been crucio'd.
They stared at each other in silence.
“What happened to the healers you called here?” Hermione finally said. Her voice was ice-cold.
Draco's eyes flickered briefly. “Obliviated.”
“Really?”
“Two dead healers could raise questions,” Draco said with a shrug.
“So you would have killed them, but you didn't because you decided it wasn't worth the inconvenience?”
Draco's eyes flashed. “Yes, Granger, for convenience which, as you know, I have so abundantly in my life with my two mutually exclusive masters.”
Hermione felt the guilt catch in her throat. “I just — I don't want you to kill people because of me.”
Draco gave a barking laugh and appeared amused as he stared down at her. “What exactly is it that you think I do with all my time? I kill people. I order other people to kill people. I train people to kill people. I sabotage and undermine people so that they will be killed, and I do it all because of you. Every word. Every spell. Because of you.”
Hermione flinched and gave a low gasp as though she'd been struck.
Draco's vicious expression immediately vanished. “Granger, I didn't—”
Hermione jerked her head slightly and tensed her jaw. “No. Don't try to take it back. It's true. What you said is entirely true. Everything you do is on my head too. Every spell.” Her voice wavered and faded.
“Don't.” He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up her hand. “Don't carry it. It's not yours. Stop carrying this fucking war on your shoulders.”
“It is, though. I did this to you.” She squeezed his hand in hers. “Someone should regret it all. You don't have the time or space to hesitate. It makes more sense for me to carry it. Maybe if I do — you'll stop someday.”
Draco stilled and his mouth twitched. Instead of responding, he drew his wand and cast the diagnostic spell she'd taught him. They both studied it. There were still at least two hours of regrowth left.
Hermione looked up from his wand and stared at him.
“I'm getting rid of Kreacher when I go back. Assuming Moody hasn't already killed him. You can have him, but he's never setting foot in Grimmauld Place again.”
Draco's jaw clenched, and he glanced away from her without a word.
“How long have you been using him to spy on the Order?”
“I found him tending my mother's grave in April of last year.”
“April,” Hermione echoed. Then her eyes widened. “Is that why you hexed me? Because you read my notes?”
Draco said nothing in reply.
“I thought you did it because I healed you,” she said after a minute.
“I know.”
Her throat tightened. “Everytime I healed you after that, I thought — I thought you might hurt me again.”
“I know.” His voice was hollow.
There was a long silence. Hermione pressed her lips together and drew a slow breath, feeling as though she might choke on her grief.
“I don't know what to do. I can't ignore a threat to the Order.”
Draco sighed and looked down. “I was just angry.”
Hermione scoffed and jerked her chin. “You're always angry. You can't make threats like that. Especially not you. It was an accident. I was trying to heal Kingsley, and he apparated. I thought I'd take some of the injured back with me. My hands were full when I was cursed.”
“You were still working.” His voice was a carefully controlled. Clipped. She could hear the undercurrent of cold rage still in it.
“I wanted to,” she said firmly. “Padma didn't know the spellwork to heal me. Pomfrey and she could have done it together, but Pomfrey was sick this week. Our other casualty healer never came. I think Padma panicked; I don't think she used an advanced diagnostic charm to verify the injury. I could have asked her to stun me, but I wanted to keep working, and if she had — well, I might have died then. Although, hopefully she would have put monitor wards on me. I'm going to have quite a bit to say about healing practice when I get back. It was a lot of factors. You can't reduce complex situations into a simplistic blame game. You can't hold the Resistance hostage to control me.”