𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍-𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙

Chapter 10

Lovesbitca8 TAKES CREDIT THIS IS HER WORK - FOUND ON AO3

The poison worked its way through her system overnight, leaving a lethargic hum in her veins the next morning. Once the adrenalin of the initial shock had seeped from her, her body felt the aftermath like a lead weight for the next few days.

Mippy continued to pop in with potions without labels. She asked the elf what was inside the small vial, but all she would reply was, "For Miss! For Miss to heal!"

On the third day of her subdued and woozy recovery, she refused the potion. It was possible the slow climb back to health was not due to the poison, but to the antidotes she was taking. Mippy bounced from toe to toe, spinning reasons to take it at her like a broken record.

"But Miss! Miss was hurt! The potion makes Miss better!"

"But Miss is weak! This makes her strong!"

"Miss wants to feel good? Drink!"

"Master Draco makes it special for Miss. To make her better!"

That one caught Hermione's attention. She looked to the small girl elf, holding a purple swirling potion out to her. Draco made this potion? Or Draco doctored the potion somehow?

"No. Thank you." She turned her head from the elf's wide eyes and thought about how easy it would be to drop a sprig of asphodel into almost any potion. Or...

The minty magic suppressant that the nurses gave her in the Ministry holding cells. The ones they'd been ordered to give all slaves.

The Malfoys must be dosing her, but... perhaps they'd enhanced the suppressant to be tasteless? She tried to remember if anything she'd eaten had a strange peppermint aftertaste.

Perhaps that was why her recovery had been so difficult. Healing potions mixed with a heavy dose of magic suppressants.

Mippy disappeared with the undrunk potion, and Hermione decided against dinner that evening.

She woke up in the middle of the night, clutching her arm, sweating, head pounding. She'd been through worse. She knew she could survive it. Her blood began to boil after ten minutes, sweat blooming from her skin and sinking into the sheets. Whatever Draco's potion was, it was clearly better than this. She suffered two hours before whispering a shaky, "Mippy," into the quiet room. The elf appeared and helped her drink.

~*~

Lying boneless all day and night as a toxin washed its way through her blood was all too freeing for her mind. She stared off for hours, reimagining Bellatrix's breath on her face, her high laugh. And then piecing together what she remembered of Draco. Seemingly appearing from nowhere. Still as stone as his aunt left the room, and then jerky, hurried movements as he healed her.

He healed her.

It was important to him that he heal her.

In ways that the Dark Lord couldn't possibly condone.

In ways that made her think she was worth more than sixty-five thousand Galleons.

He'd cleaned her blood with his lips, spitting onto the plush carpets like he could buy new ones. Sucking poison from his whore, as if he couldn't buy another one of those.

His untouched whore. In her elegant suite.

Her eyes closed, drifting off, remembering his skin surrounding her.

~*~

Narcissa visited often. She offered to retrieve books from the shelves, bring fresh sleeping clothes, take dinner requests.