Draco and Hermione

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

By the time they'd gone back inside, Draco looked significantly weaker. His bandages were blood soaked again as well, something that Hermione hadn't noticed until they were under the indoor lights. He laid back on the couch, letting out a breath of relief. On either side of the couch were warm armchairs and the fireplace was directly in front of it, with a fire already flickering there. At last most of the Order was gone and he wouldn't have to see Potter or Weasley's faces for a while. But before he could relax or get comfortable, Hermione was already beginning to replace the bandages again.

"You really should have said something," she said in annoyance as she was taking the blood soaked bandages off. Draco shrugged in response, wincing as the bandages were removed.

"I'm guessing the pain relieving spells are wearing off too?" Hermione continued, raising an eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter."

"How doesn't it matter? Honestly Malfoy, you're bleeding to death," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"And I don't want to be nursed," he gritted out. He was going to add, 'nursed like a child' but he stopped himself. Why wouldn't she just drop it? Fine, he didn't say anything when the spells wore off outside, why was that such a big deal? So what if he was in pain for a while. He still had some ego, pride and dignity left, and he refused to ask anyone for help. It wasn't like anyone from the Order would care anyway, and he doubted that they'd end up getting Snape either. In fact, the only possible way to capture Severus Snape was if he surrendered freely. He was the ultimate spy and escapee, and a master duellist. The ultimate Slytherin. He'd fooled Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in history, for years. Of course nobody really knew that Snape had been spying for Dumbledore this entire time, and still was. The point was, in Draco's eyes, unless Snape turned himself in, he'd be lying here bleeding out for many hours to come. And it wasn't going to be a pleasant experience. He'd been dreading the situation from the moment Potter had spat the incantation out. Bloody Gryffindor's.

"What's that supposed to mean? You don't want to be nursed by me because I'm a mudblood?" began Hermione angrily, once again tugging Draco from his thoughts.

"That's not what I meant," Draco snapped. She took everything to offence, as if expecting him to insult her. He blinked, and then sighed at himself. Well of course she expected it to be an insult, he'd been insulting her since they first met. But she didn't have to be so biased about it, assuming him to always mean harm. He silently cursed himself: now he was being a hypocrite. He'd been biased about her blood status since she was an eleven year old girl. The way she acted was his fault. And he felt bad about it. Where on earth was this conscience coming from? A few moments had passed and he realised that she was ignoring him.

"You do know that wasn't what I meant," he began.

"Whatever. Like you said, it doesn't matter," Hermione responded. Draco rolled his eyes. What on earth was he meant to say? She finished taking the bandages off and went to get more, leaving him to feel like crap even though he hadn't said anything bad. He tried to imagine what her reaction would be if he suddenly called her a mublood. Now that would be amusing. He found himself smirking, remembering what it felt like to be completely free back at Hogwarts. He could call anyone anything he wanted. He used to call Hermione a mudblood during class just to see what kind of mood she was in. Or just because he was bored, or he wanted something to laugh at. There was never any meaning behind it, he just knew she hated it and he got a kick out of her angry reactions. It was simple. Hermione returned without saying anything, and she pulled her wand out and began casting all the healing spells on his wound. Of course, Draco thought in amusement, she's already learned all the healing spells from Mrs Weasley.