He was outwardly calm, but Hermione could feel his entire body shaking.
Lucius shifted forward and studied Draco as if he were reevaluating him. His eyes were burning. “And what do you intend to do with me?”
“What do you think? You snapped and nearly compromised my assignment. In the process of recovering the Mudblood, I had to kill you. I have memories to corroborate it.”
Lucius nodded, seemingly unsurprised. “I want to see Narcissa.”
Draco hesitated and then nodded. “I imagine she'll speak to you now. I'll have the elves bring her portrait. You have until I return.”
Lucius was silent.
Draco turned towards the door. Hermione rested her forehead against his shoulder as he picked his way through the rubble. Her head lolled back.
“Just a little longer, Granger. Stay conscious for me.”
There was another sharp pain in her lower abdomen and she gripped his robes.
They were nearly out of the drawing room when Lucius spoke again.
“What would you do if I offered to save you, Draco?”
Draco barely reacted, he continued walking away without response. Hermione lifted her head and looked over his shoulder at Lucius.
His head was tilted back as he stared across the room at her, his eyes glittering.
“Phoenix tears, isn't it?” His lips parted in a rictus, revealing his bloodstained teeth. “How many do you need?”
Chapter 72
A warning for readers: This chapter contains a scene containing a medical procedure and gore. Asterisks have been included to indicate the beginning and end of the section.
Draco still didn't stop, but Hermione squeezed his arm and tried to slip down. She stared at Lucius, her heart in her throat.
Draco paused. “Don't, Granger.”
“Draco — if he has Phoenix tears…” She forced him to set her down, gripping his arm tightly to keep herself upright as she looked wide-eyed at Lucius.
The blood was drying and crusting along his face. She had to squint in order to see him clearly from across the room.
“I would need fifteen tears,” she said.
Lucius tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “How many tears would half a vial be?”
Hermione swallowed, her heart dropping with disappointment so sharp it was physically painful. “It depends on whether it's a standardized vial. A modern half vial is only about twelve drops.”
Lucius' eyebrows furrowed. “What if it were an older vial, from the fifteenth century?”
Hermione gave a small gasp and swayed on her feet. “They were bigger then. Do you — do you actually have Phoenix tears?”
Lucius smiled cruelly. “What would you do? What would you give me if I did?”
Draco scoffed. “Don't waste your time with him, Granger. The only reason he even cares is because I haven't produced an heir.”
He picked her up and walked away rapidly.
Hermione rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her through the house. Her head felt fractured, but she forced herself to focus through the pain.
When they passed through the door into her room, he called, “Bobbin!”
The name was nearly a snarl.
Bobbin instantly appeared and began groveling on the floor. “Master Draco! Master Draco, Bobbin is being so sorry. Bobbin is not knowing how Master Lucius is taking the Miss from her room.”
“It was the spoon on the breakfast tray. It was a portkey,” Hermione said. There was a dragging sensation in the back of her head as though she were falling backwards.
Bobbin gave a cry of despair and began ramming her head into the floor repeatedly. The thudding sound made Hermione wince and cringe.
“Stop injuring yourself.” Draco's voice was ice cold. “Bring me all the healing supplies, and send two elves to transport my mother's portrait to the South drawing room. Then get out of my sight.”
He paused in front of the portrait in Hermione's room. “Father wishes to see you, Mother. If you ever want to speak to him, this is your last opportunity.”
He turned away before the portrait could respond and carried Hermione towards her bed.
It seemed like only a moment had passed, but she was suddenly on the bed in clean clothes, the medical supplies laid out across one side of it. Draco was dousing several cloths in Essence of Dittany and wrapping them around her hand and leg before looking up.
Horror was written into his face. His eyes flickered, and his expression closed the instant their eyes met.
“I'm sorry... I was afraid the explosion might kill you, or I would have come sooner. I'm so sorry.”
Hermione shook her head dismissively, trying to clear it and stay focused. “Draco… he might have Phoenix tears.”
His expression tensed briefly. “Granger, don't.”
He waved his wand, but his fingers spasmed abruptly mid-spell. The wand emitted a blue flame that guttered out after a moment. His expression rippled, and his jaw set as he carefully waved his wand again and cast a diagnostic on her brain.
Her brain projection appeared. The fractured, brightly glowing lights across her brain were still there, but several lights had lost the golden glow and turned blood red. Tiny threads of scarlet, like lightning fractals, branched through sections of her brain.
Draco turned grey when he saw it. “I need — I need to call a mind healer.”
He stood to leave, but Hermione gripped his wrist and pulled him back. “No. Draco, wait — your father said he has Phoenix tears. You have to find out what he wants in exchange for them.”
He pulled his wrist free, his expression set. “Granger — there's no point in finding out.”
Hermione stared at him, incredulous. “What — What do you mean there's no point? I could get your mark off.” Her chest jerked, and she gripped his hand again. “You have to find out — you have to ask — Please, Draco—, please—”
Her lungs started spasming as she begged.
He stared at her for several seconds and sighed, dropping down on the edge of her bed. He wrapped arms around her shoulders until her breathing slowed.
He sat back and looked down at his hands.
“Granger—” he paused for a moment. “I'm ruined as duelist now.”
Hermione watched his fingers as the index finger twitched and the thumb abruptly jerked. He curled his hands into fists. “A week ago it might have been different. But now—” he lifted his right hand. The ring finger kept twitching. “Not now. The only reason I won against my father today was because he didn't actually want to kill me.”
“Draco—”
He cut her off with a tight voice. “I can't defeat the Dark Lord for you, Granger. I know you want to save everyone, but I can't kill him — even if you got my mark off. If I go and try, I'll fail, and I'd probably be taken alive.” He still wasn't looking at her. “If I'm interrogated—” he looked down, and she could see the rigid tension in his jaw and shoulders, “—even if you obliviate me before I go, eventually he'd learn about you, Ginny, and James, and the approximate location of the safe house. I'm—” his mouth twisted, “I'd—”
“Draco—” Her voice caught and wavered as she captured his face in her hands and turned it so that his eyes met hers. “Draco, I'm not going to remove your mark so you can die in the rubble with Voldemort. I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to save you.”
Her arms were shaking, but she didn't let go of him. “I can save you if you let me. Let me get your mark off and run away. Run away with me the way we always said we would.”
He stared at her for a moment, and the corner of his mouth quirked up wistfully. “I made an Unbreakable Vow, Granger. There's no—”
“I know about your vow. You made it to me.” She cut him off, staring intently into his silver eyes, gripping his right hand tightly in hers until she could almost feel the magic between them. “Draco Malfoy, you have done your best to aid to Order of the Phoenix in defeating Voldemort. I am the last Order member. I consider your Unbreakable Vow fulfilled in excess.”