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."
