Bobbin vanished with a loud pop, and Draco twitched.
Hermione looked down at him.
He was dazedly staring up towards her, his eyes were unfocused, without any signs of recognition.
“Draco?”
He blinked. “Granger?”
He looked entirely bewildered.
“Draco—” she touched him gently on the cheek and held her voice steady. Calming. “What did he do to you? How long were you crucio'd?”
He furrowed his eyebrows and squinted. “Where are we?”
He kept blinking as though he were trying to see in the dark.
Hermione's throat tightened. “We're — we're in my room. I think you must have apparated and passed out just outside my door.”
His expression twisted. His pupils were blown wide. He shook his head, and a low groan escaped him. “I didn't mean to come here.”
Hermione's eyes started burning, and she brushed his forehead lightly with her fingertips.
“I know—” Her throat caught slightly.
Draco twitched at the sound, and his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you alright? I can't — Are you breathing?”
He reached up blindly in the direction of her voice, and his hand grazed her cheek.
Hermione caught his hand in hers and pressed her face into his palm, kissing it. “I'm fine. I'm a healer, remember? It's not the first time you've collapsed into my arms.”
She cleared her throat and forced herself to speak firmly. “Now, I need you to answer my questions. Draco, what did he do? Tell me, what did he do to you?”
Draco was silent for a moment and then sighed. “He says I'm at fault me for the spreading insurgency — if I were more competent, I'd be containing it. He decided I was due to offer proof of loyalty. A few hours of legilimency, then — it occurred to him that I'm an occlumens.” He snorted. “He had — someone crucio me while he checked again.”
He swallowed. “Fortunately he was tired by then. It didn't last so long the second time.” A twisted smile ghosted across his lips. “As a reward for proving my continued loyalty, I've been given the rest of the week off, so — at least there's that.”
His attempt to sound reassuring and sarcastic made it worse.
Hermione's hands began shaking as she fought off a sense of hysteria. Just breathe. Just breathe. You can't panic right now, he'll hurt himself more if he thinks you're going to have a seizure.
Draco squinted and turned his head, as though he were trying to glance around her room. “It's not night yet, is it? I don't think I can see.” He pressed the back of his hand against his eyes. “That's new.”
Hermione started going through Draco's robes, burning her fingertips as she kept pulling out weapons concealed in the dozens pockets lining his robes. Finally her hand closed around a familiar leather case, and she pulled it out.
She flipped open the healing kit and jerked out the vial of Calming Draught. She bit the cork out with her teeth, tilting Draco's head up onto her lap as she held the vial to his lips.
“Draught of Peace. It will slow your heart rate and ease the way your muscles are spasming.”
She waited, running her fingers through his hair and talking to him so he'd stay calm and lucid. She felt the potion take effect as his body relaxed onto her lap.
She picked up his right arm and pulled his wand out, slipping its handle into his left hand, and holding it in place so that his spasming fingers wouldn't drop it.
“Draco,” she kept her voice carefully steady. “I need you to cast a diagnostic for me. Can you try? I'll help with the wand motion, but it has to be your magic.”
It was a diagnostic targeted at his brain and nervous system, and it took six tries before the spell would hold.
She studied it quietly for several minutes. “The legilimency strained your optic nerves, that's why your eyes aren't working. It's not permanent. You just need to rest so it can heal. Your — your nerve damage from the torture is—” her jaw trembled, and she swallowed. “He really shouldn't keep torturing you.”
Draco snorted and started to reply, but his entire body spasmed. He didn't make a sound but pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white.
There was a pop and Bobbin appeared, surrounded by potions and medical supplies.
Hermione looked up at the elf. “Can you levitate him onto the bed for me? He's too heavy for me to lift. And take his clothes off, his robes are filthy.”
“Bobbin can.” The elf snapped her fingers and floated Draco carefully over towards the bed.
Hermione went over and started sorting through all the supplies. They were all labeled, many of them in a sharp, spiky script she knew had been Severus'.
She selected four potions and went back to Draco. Bobbin had removed his clothes, cleaned Draco's face, and tucked him into the bed.
Hermione leaned over him, studying his eyes and taking note of all the physical symptoms she could detect. He was ghastly pale, and his chest kept hitching as he tried to breathe in a way that wasn't painful. She rested a hand against his forehead.
“You should have had a pain relief potion with you,” she said after a moment. “You were the one who told me not to apparate after legilimency without taking a pain relief potion first. You always had one for me.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
She looked down and unstoppered one of the vials she'd brought over, pressing it into his hand. He downed it with a grimace.
She handed him the next potion. “I should have included one in your healing kit. I ran out of space. I should have put in a pain potion instead of Murtlap Essence.”
Draco blinked and she could tell he was trying to force his eyes to focus on her as she handed him the third potion.
She picked up his empty hand and pressed it against her cheek. “You already know what I look like, rest your eyes. Your head will hurt less if you keep them closed.”
He obstinately narrowed them, trying to make out her face for a moment longer before obeying.
She watched as some of the lines of tension around his eyes and mouth slowly faded and his breathing gradually evened.
When she was sure the potions had taken effect, she moved on. “Who's your healer? Who treats you after he tortures you? You need to call them. You're not going to be able to move for weeks without treatment.”
Draco's face remained neutral, but his fingers twitched. Hermione felt her chest tighten after he failed to answer for several seconds.
“Draco—”
“I deal with it myself unless it's life-threatening,” he finally said, the words were so low they were almost under his breath. He didn't open his eyes. “Severus used to help occasionally — when it was something I didn't know how to heal — but otherwise — it's my job.”
Hermione stared at him in horror. Draco cracked an eye open and squinted at her before snorting.
He raised one eyebrow and closed his eyes again, his expression tightening. “You may recall you once put a rather rare stone into my heart. It may not show in diagnostics, but I have to avoid healers as much as I can. If the Dark Lord began receiving repeated reports that I'm physically pristine despite having had Dark Runes carved into my back for three years, he'd have more than a few questions. I'd probably end up with my heart cut out. When it's something life-threatening, I call a healer and obliviate them afterwards, but half the healers in England would be addled at this point if I called and obliviated one every time I was crucio'd.”
Hermione felt as though he'd gutted her. “I didn't — I didn't realise.”
“It's fine, Granger.” He didn't open his eyes but still waved her off with his free hand. The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I've been told several times now that I have a natural talent for healing.”