The Brightest Black

Draco quickly turned and pressed himself to the wall, narrowly missing a mediwitch racing by, her arms heavily laden with potions.

Trying to maneuver through a crowded hospital while invisible was much harder than he thought it would be.

How in Merlin's name did Potter use this in Hogwarts?

It didn't help that he'd had to ride the lift up to the proper floor. And it took about ten minutes before someone selected the floor he wanted. Why did so many people want to go to the tea room?

Once again he wished he could just hand the potion to Potter to administer.

But, no, stupid, bloody family tome.

Why had Snape even shared it with him? There were only two possibilities, and neither of them filled him with comfort. Either the Dark Lord had a sinister plan for getting Potter's sister cured, or Snape was not quite as loyal as the Dark Lord believed.

He carefully moved around a corner and scanned the small waiting room with the mediwitch station.

Ah, there.

Behind the desk was a map of the floor, with names written on each room. H. Black was in room 412.

He moved down the hallway, upon reaching Black's room he found the door slightly ajar.

He leaned forward and pressed his ear to the crack. He could hear nothing, so he assumed it was empty.

He looked around to make sure no one was nearby before slowly pressing on the door. When the gap was big enough he slipped in, pulling the cloak tight around himself.

All he needed now was for it to catch on the door latch.

The room was empty except for a curtained off area, where he assumed Black was.

He slowly closed the door, making sure to leave it the way he found it.

Silently he crossed the room and peaked through the curtains.

He had to be in the wrong room. There was no way that this skeletal figure was Hermione Black.

He glanced at a clipboard hanging on the end of the bed.

It was her.

Her hair had been cropped short, close to her head. And her face was sickeningly pale. It kept contorting into a pained frown before relaxing. Her hands were tied to the bedrails and as he watched they curled into claws and shook the bed as they reached for her bandage clad abdomen. After a few seconds she relaxed again.

Draco felt sick.

Potter hadn't been lying when he said she was weakening. If the potion had taken any longer to brew it would have been too late.

His hands were shaking as he approached the bed.

Her tossing and turning had pushed the thin hospital blankets to the floor. She was clad in a pair of hospital pants and a too big button up nightshirt that had been cropped at the bottom of her ribcage. Bandages soaked in some sort of sickly orange potion were wrapped around her waist.

Only her small, pale face was visible. They’d put gloves on her tense, claw-like hands

Her extremely prudish modesty was preserved.

He looked around the room and saw a chart with times and names listed. It looked like he had a good thirty minutes before they came to check on her.

He took a deep breath and slipped the cloak off before opening his small satchel bag and pulling out his supplies.

The potion had to be directly applied to where the curse had hit, and then it took ten minutes to set.

That meant he had twenty minutes to get those bandages safely off and wash away the orange potion.

He took a deep breath and got to work.

He pulled out a pair of scissors and began cutting through the bandages. It was slow going. He had to pause every time he felt her tense, since she always moved afterwards.

During one of those times he looked up at her face and was struck with the sudden realization that Black was rather delicate and petite. Her presence, her modest robes, and long black hair always made her seem bigger.

It didn't help that he remembered her being taller than him when they were younger. But he was now taller than Potter, and he knew Potter was taller than his sister.

How could such a powerfully dangerous person be so fragile looking? How could she be made so helpless?

He shook his head and got back to work.

It took about five minutes to get the bandage pulled back to reveal a thick layer of orange goop.

He grabbed the bowl he'd brought and filled it with water from his wand, then he began carefully washing away the goop, soaking the bed in the process.

He gagged and almost vomited when he got a good look at her skin.

From right under her navel to about three inches above it her skin was covered in angry-looking red bumps, interspaced with long, half-scabbed over cuts. So many cuts that he could swear he saw her innards. He wasn't a mediwizard, but even he could tell the cuts were self-inflicted.

Had Snape invented this curse? Or had he just found it in his family tome and shared it? Was it in more family tomes?

No, it couldn't be. Sirius Black had control of the Black tome. If he had the spell and cure he'd have healed her already.

Once the last of the goop was washed off she began moving more violently.

He began to grow worried that someone would hear and come in.

He rushed to grab the potion he'd made; almost dropping it as he pulled out the cork. His breath quickened as she made the bed shake.

"Silencio," he hissed.

He aimed the spell at the bed, and thankfully it worked.

He hurriedly began applying the potion all over the affected area, and quite a bit of the clear skin around it.

He wasn't taking any chances.

The more potion he put on her, the more frustrated she grew. Her face was contorted in pain and her hands were clawing at the air in an attempt to reach her stomach.

Abruptly her eyes opened. A silent scream emerged from her and he took a step backwards in fear.

He glanced at a clock on the wall and saw he had twelve minutes.

His eyes raced over Black's stomach, avoiding her silently screaming face as he tried to spot any place that wasn't covered in blue liquid.

Once certain he hadn't missed a spot he began stuffing everything back in his satchel.

He stood there, satchel over his shoulder and invisibility cloak in his hands, unable to move from the fear that he had done the exact opposite of what he had intended.

There was no way this potion was helping her. She was in such pain...

His heart gave a lurch.

A fool!

He'd been a fool to trust Snape!

Her struggles grew more violent, the bed began to move silently across the floor. Her body was so tense that at times she was barely touching the mattress.

He'd failed, again.

He was dead.

Potter would kill him.

Blood rushed to his head and then he began to hyperventilate.

Air! He couldn't get enough air!

He staggered and grabbed the curtain, ripping it from the ceiling. The pop, pop, pop of it coming lose was barely audible through the blood rushing through his head.

He hung there, holding on to the broken curtain, air failing him, and watched Hermione silently scream and flail.

And then, just when he thought it could get no worse, it all stopped.

Hermione Black went completely slack, her soft brown eyes staring blindly at him. As he watched the blue potion began to disappear as it was slowly sucked into her skin.

When it was all gone only pale, flawless skin remained.

Distantly he heard footsteps and shouting coming towards him.

He didn't think, he let go of the curtain and stumbled away, grabbing the cloak off the floor and throwing it on.

Just as the last bit of him was hidden Potter came flying through the door.

"Hermione!"

He yanked back the remnants of the curtains around the bed and then gasped. Sirius Black, and their old Defense professor, Remus Lupin, were right behind Potter.

Draco didn't stick around to see if the potion had worked or not.

He needed air.

He rushed out, being careful to dodge the pair of mediwitches rushing towards Black’s room.

He needed to get out of there, and fast.

If they found him and she was cured the Dark Lord would murder him and his parents. If she was dead, Potter would kill him.

Either way, he was screwed if he stuck around.

He didn’t even wait for the lift this time, instead he just pushed the buttons and jumped on – making a wizened little old witch frown in confusion at the lift buttons.

He just made it out of the hospital on the heels of a young couple holding a sleeping infant. He hurried down the muggle street, dodging pedestrians the entire way, until he reached an alleyway. Ducking inside he leaned back against the brick wall and took deep, shuddering breathes.

The air stunk of garbage and rank water, but he didn't care.

He was outside.

He couldn't change what he'd just done. Either he'd failed or he'd succeeded. Either way, he'd done his duty. He needed to get back to school before he was missed. His parents' lives depended on it.

He pulled off the cloak and stuffed it in his bag. He was very thankful he’d decided not to wear robes today. He’d thought they’d make moving under the cloak more difficult, so he’d dressed in a pair of linen slacks and a well-tailored cotton button-up.

He pulled out his comb and ran it through his hair, changing it enough that he wouldn’t be instantly recognizable as Draco Malfoy.

Then he took off walking.

He wanted to be far away from St. Mungos before he summoned the Knight Bus, just in case aurors came asking questions.
After about twenty minutes of walking he found himself at one of the many entrances to Hyde Park. Clouds were rolling in and more people were leaving the park than were entering it.

He didn't mind a little wet, so he crossed the street and entered the park. The lack of traffic lights and noisy motor vehicles made it a much safer place to walk through.

Just as he was passing the Serpentine water began to leak from the sky. He quickened his steps, moving along the gravel path as quickly as he could without actually running.

His shoes were not made to run in.

He was thoroughly soaked by the time he left the park.

Honestly, he was grateful for the rain. The streets were rather empty, and it didn't take too much walking to find a deserted one. Nor did he have to deal with any muggles.

He glanced around and made sure there were no muggles peeking out of windows or sitting in one of their odd motor vehicles. Certain the area was empty he pulled out his wand and stuck it out into the street.

BANG!

He ignored whatever Stan Shunpike was spouting, he'd already heard it earlier, not that anyone but him and Potter knew that.

"Hog's Head, Hogsmeade," he said as he pushed some coins into the bumbling boy's hands.

"Hey! Dontcha want yer change?"

Draco shook his head and pushed his way to the back staircase.

There were quite a few wizards and witches on the bus, but he moved past them quickly, keeping his head down.

Hopefully no one would realize that this sodden, robeless boy was the heir to the Malfoy family.

Another blessing the rain had brought him.

He found a plush armchair on the third floor with its back to the other passengers. He curled himself into it and stared out the rain spotted window as the English landscapes raced past.

Now that he wasn't moving his hands began to shake. He tightened them into fists and pulled them close to his torso.

He really, really hoped the potion disappearing meant it had worked. And worked in the way he wanted it to.

Otherwise, he was dead.

However, the scariest thought of all, one he kept trying to push to the back of his mind, was that he wasn't sure if he wanted the potion to be the cure because it meant he got to live, or because it meant Hermione Black got to live.

He closed his eyes and all he could see her sunken, pale face screaming in silent pain.

He gasped and opened his eyes again.

What was wrong with him?

XXX

She was floating. Looking around she could see a golden wall surrounding her. Warmth emanated from it and she smiled.

She knew that warmth. It had been protecting her for a very long time. She closed her eyes and could hear a distant humming.

Yea, it was Harry. He was with her.

She was safe.

There was no time in this warm cage, only peace and love.

Until the wall began to fall.

A jolt of pain flashed through her, she gasped and opened her eyes.

Everything looked fine. She closed her eyes again.

Floating.

Until it happened again.

And again.

Slowly the pain grew stronger and longer.

With her eyes open she could see the wall thinning, weakening.

Harry.

And then the wall was gone, and pain was all she knew.

She screamed as flames raced over her, searing her flesh.

She struggled, trying to reach the flames, to put them out, but something was restraining her.

She opened her eyes and screamed at the sight before her.

A blue inferno was pouring out of a pale-scaled dragon. She screamed and fought, trying to escape the fire she knew was going to burn her to a crisp.

Blue light seared her eyes and she squeezed them shut, fighting as hard as she could to escape.

But then…

The pain was gone.

Sweet coolness flowed over her, coating her skin and smothering the flames.

She went limp.

Her eyes opened to reveal a body coated in blue flames that did not burn. As she watched the dragon disappeared, its job was done.

She smiled and relaxed, closing her eyes as she heard a distant voice call her name.

Harry, he was here.

He’d take the place of the dragon that saved her.

XXX

Narcissa looked up from her cup of tea to watch the flames in the fireplace turn a brilliant green.

“Narcissa.”

She placed the cup on a saucer and approached the dark-haired man’s head.

“Severus.”

He tilted his head back painfully to look at her. She pulled up a stool and took a seat, so he wouldn’t pull out his back.

“I told you that I shared the cure, as you requested.”

She nodded, “Yes, and that was almost three weeks ago. Is the potion finished?”

“Draco is nowhere to be found and Mr. Potter had an appointment at St. Mungos today.”

Her eyes narrowed, “And no one but Draco had permission to use the potion?”

Severus’ lips quirked, “Aside from you, only he knows there is a cure to the curse. You never did tell me how you knew there was one. Or that I would be willing to share it.”

Her own lips twisted in response, “I know you, Severus. My sisters and I have always had a talent for reading people. You’d never create a potentially deadly spell without giving it a cure. You’re too careful and detailed to give up control of one of your own creations.”

“You do know that if the Dark Lord learns of this he will not be pleased.”

She studied the black eyes glittering in the fire’s glow. She couldn’t have read this man incorrectly. He had agreed to do as she asked with very little persuasion.

No, she was right.

“I also know that I won’t tell him. Nor will you.”

His dark gazed pierced hers, and she felt him push at her mind. She smiled, and let him see what she suspected.

As soon as he had seen it he yanked himself out.

“You’re rather astute for a society housewife.”

She arched one delicate eyebrow at him, “No one ever sees a snake in the grass.”

“Rather poetic.”

“Indeed.”

She stood up and smoothed out her robes, signaling the conversation was over, “Send me an owl if Draco fails to return to Hogwarts. Otherwise, I shall see you another time.”

His head tilted in response and then he was gone, leaving her alone

She moved over and stood in front of the window, staring out at the wet countryside. She’d worried for years that something was going to happen. She’d heard about the Dark Lord’s attack on Hogwarts during Draco’s first year. She’d known he wasn’t dead, but she’d hoped…

Oh, she had hoped she’d have more time. Time to show Draco that true power did not lie in the arms of a madman. That he didn’t have to blindly follow in his father’s footsteps. Time to show Lucius that the future was more important than the past.

At least she’d had enough time to make her husband see some reason. Even if he had failed to tell her about Hermione being cursed. She knew, ultimately, that he’d always put his own flesh and blood first. She just hadn’t been sure if he knew that.

Malfoys stood by their family.

But Blacks got even.

And she may have married a Malfoy, but she was born a Black.

She was going to find out who hit her future daughter-in-law with Ardens Prurigine, and then she was going to curse them with it. She was going to curse them with it and watch as they tried to rip their own insides apart to stop the itching.

She smiled at her own reflection in the rain-coated window.

Oh, yes, she would enjoy that sight very much.