The Family Jewels

Chapter 58
What I’ve Done

Hermione realised that she was still awake. She was in bed between Draco and Blaise, she had eaten, she wasn’t thirsty, she didn’t have to go to the loo. She was awake. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the dark, everything there in the dark was still there in the light. Perhaps it was the light that was the problem. She began to think a bit more and the tears slid slowly down her face. She wasn’t sobbing, she was really quite calm, yet the tears still came.

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Draco Malfoy stood before the mirror in the bathroom of a Muggle hotel and adjusted the collar of his robes. Again. Enough, he had to be at the Ministry in 20 minutes. Walking out into the bedroom, he locked eyes with Blaise, still in bed with Hermione, silently guarding her sleep.

“How long?” Draco mouthed silently.

Blaise turned his head slightly to see the clock and held up two fingers. She hadn’t fallen asleep until after daybreak again. Draco frowned, shaking his head a bit. Hermione was involved with Slytherins, sleeping in their bed, and thought that she was hiding the fact that she only slept when the sun was up. Blaise nodded at him, he would be taking Hermione back to St. Mungo’s and this time they were going to have a grief therapist or a rape counsellor speak to her. Blaise and Draco were going to take care of everything else.

Draco left as quietly as he could; Blaise didn’t envy him the circus at the Ministry, but Snape would be there and that solicitor, Flom. Good men, they would guide Draco, he could concentrate on Hermione. Her arm was flung next to the pillow and she looked comfortable. The bracelet he had given her shone dully and he felt the pang that he had not given it to her earlier, when she could have actually used it. As part of the Golden Trio, she wasn’t out of danger, but the Dark Lord and his most of his minions were dead. The danger was certainly less, and he would make sure that she was discreetly watched and guarded for the rest of her days.

The bracelet had caught slightly in a wrinkle of the sheets and was pulled up on her arm. Blaise blinked a few times in the dim light of the curtained window but he was sure after a minute. That oval mark on her forearm was a bruise, a fingertip mark. The violence that threatened to take over with that discovery was difficult to ignore. He eased out of the bed and sat on the floor, his hands resting on his bent knees. He had talked to his father at length, and while there would not be blood dripping from his hands, there would be blinding, crippling pain. The gods forgive him, he couldn’t wait.

Blaise was doing pushups next to the bed again. Hermione knew that he wouldn’t leave her alone and that he was going stir crazy up here, he needed to get his energy out. She hid her smile.

“How many, love?” she asked him in a low voice.

“I didn’t want to wake you, cara, I was trying to be quiet.” Blaise raised solemn eyes to hers before breaking into his breathtaking smile. “174,” he answered when she didn’t speak. “You realise that I can’t leave off on a 4.”

“No,” she agreed. “That wouldn’t be arithmetically pleasing. What number would suit you?” Hermione was actually smiling now, and his dimple popped into his left cheek when he saw her eyes smile. Blaise knew that she also had quirks about numbers. If she had a biscuit, she ate it in 5 bites, every time. Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans? In groups of 5, generally ending with a total of 25, 5 groups of 5.

Why she did it, he couldn’t say, but he knew that it restored order to her mind. Draco had said that she counted the number of t’s and i's in sentences said to her, and if there were 5, that made her happy. She apparently did this only when the mood struck her, and Draco would sometimes inexplicably say, “How many?” and she always answered without pausing in what she was doing or thinking. If the answer was 3 or 5, that was fine. The number 4 was unfortunate, and he knew he’d have to do more pushups for her.

“Perhaps just the one more, for a total of 175, or should I go to 200?” Blaise watched her weigh those two numbers, testing them to see which felt right.

“175 would be fine, 7 groups of 25,” she explained.

“Ah,” Blaise agreed, doing his one remaining pushup perfectly, just to see her eyes spark at his muscles. “I’m going to hop in the shower, would you like me to order breakfast now or when I get out?” He had learned that he needed to consult with her, and although he wouldn’t allow her to determine whether she was having breakfast, what she would prefer and when were still on the agenda.

“After would be fine, love. I think I’ll just sleep for a few more minutes.” Hermione snuggled down into the bed again and the shadows in her eyes didn’t seem quite as dark as they had before.

“That is good.” He nodded, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and closing the door after himself so that the sound of the water would not bother her.

Blaise knocked on the connecting door to the room next to theirs, and it was several minutes before a very rumpled Potter opened the door, his exasperation at the interruption clear on his face. “Morning Harry…long night?” he asked with a cheeky grin. Potter had been three sheets to the wind at the party the night before, and he could see the dark purple love bite low on his neck from here.

He was surprised when Harry showed not a jot of embarrassment at his just-shagged appearance. Harry held out his hand to the Slytherin, saying, “Blaise, mate, thank you for doing that last night. As an honorary Weasley, we appreciate the sentiment and the effort.”

Blaise was glad to shake his hand, although he did throw in his customary shrug. “Pansy is one of ours, and Ron is hers now. We had to take the rest of you, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, well, Hermione is one of the best of ours, and you belong to her now. Blaise, I’m worried about her, you would know, is she all right?” Harry’s eyes were very serious and Blaise knew this was no idle question, Potter didn’t want a ‘oh, she’s fine’ answer.

Blaise moved over to the divan and sat as casually as he could before answering. “The first answer is no, she’s not all right. The…abduction,” Harry nodded his head curtly at the euphemism, “by Draco’s father, of all people, was a bloody nightmare. Certain arrangements regarding that incident are already in motion. If I don’t tell you what they are, you can honestly say that you don’t know if asked.” Blaise fell silent for a minute, but when he looked up, Harry was startled by the silent message written on his face. Like a snake coiled in on itself, Blaise was poised with his fangs dripping venom. And then, in a blink of his eye, the charming 17 year old was back.

“I would like Hermione to see someone at St. Mungo’s today, a specialist with this kind of trauma. I need to go and make arrangements; can you stay with her while Draco and I are gone?” Blaise thought it might be good for Hermione to spend some Gryffindor time with her friend.

“Of course, anything,” Harry said with real relief. He was glad Blaise wasn’t going to try to sweep this under the rug, Hermione needed help, and she was going to receive it.

Blaise stood up and walked to the door. “I’m going to order some breakfast. Maybe you could eat with her? I’ll let you know when I’m leaving. She’s not to be left alone.”

Harry nodded silently while privately reflecting that Zabini was one Slytherin that he didn’t want on his bad side.

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Lucia Zabini had almost finished using glamours to cover the marks that Charlie had left on her neck when he younger brother trailed into her bedroom and smirked at her. “I thought he left the dragons in Romania,” he teased.

“Shut it, you. He made an extremely good impression on Mama and Papa last night. It wouldn’t do to have any evidence to the contrary.” Lucia tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips, but one look at her brother, and a full-out grin appeared.

“No, certainly not,” Blaise agreed with a wide smile.

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Lucia said with a question in her voice.

“Yes,” Blaise answered, acknowledging what she was really asking. “Paolo got back a while ago. It is done.” Blaise's smile was now gone as if it had never existed.

“What was his sentence?” Lucia was not privy to most of the information regarding the dealings of her family, but this was personal.

“He was given house arrest,” Blaise answered. Lucia waited, this was not the question she had asked.

“Osteonecrosis,” he said after a pause.

Lucia looked at his face and saw that he was serious. “Where?” was the only thing she could come up with.

“His wand arm,” Blaise answered shortly. “I need to take Hermione to St. Mungo’s. I’ll see you later?” he asked, kissing her hand in farewell.

She nodded, turning back to the mirror. Osteonecrosis was an unknown curse in Britain, absolutely untraceable, untreatable. They had killed the bones in his right arm and shoulder. It was excruciatingly painful and would only spread. Lucia tipped her chin up to make sure she had covered all the evidence, she was a Zabini, it was instinct after all.

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A/N- Thank you for the kind reviews. This chapter was a bit of a downer, but it had to be done.