SCARS THEY LEFT

Blood purity. Two words. Small, insignificant. Quite a contrast to all the havoc wrecked in its name.

"Come with me, Malfoy."

"Why?"

"I want you to understand something. I want myself to understand something."

"What?"

Hermione didn't reply but proceeded to drag him by his arm.

"Get your hands off me, Granger."

Hermione let go and whipped around so fast that a lock of her hair almost brushed against his face.

"If you don't come with me right now, Malfoy, I'll hex you with the nastiest curse possible!" She had her wand out, for good measure. "I'm not joking," she threatened.

"I'm unarmed!" Draco cried, indignantly.

"I don't effing care," she snapped.

Draco followed her to the fireplace, confused, but thinking it wise not to argue.

"Give me your arm." Draco did as he was asked.

Hermione brought his arm closer to the light and then pulled up his sleeve.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco snarled, surprised, and tried to push it back down, but she held onto his arm and didn't let go.

"Look!" She said, pulling up her own sleeve and placing her arm side by side with his. "Look."

Draco froze, suddenly realising what she wanted him to see. He reluctantly looked down at it, as she insisted again. Carved on her forearm, was the word 'mudblood'.

"Do you see that? That's the scar your aunt left on me. It will never quite heal. I'll always carry it on me. That's what Pure Blood Supremacy does. That's what hatred actually means. Killing some and torturing some others. All because you think you are better than everyone else. It's all bullshit, because we are all people in the end. Here, touch it, Malfoy, feel it." She brought his hand close to hers so that they were touching, and their marks were side by side. "Flesh and blood. Just like you, Malfoy. Flesh and blood. Human. Does it feel different? Look, I've even got a mark of my own.

"You know how I got this. You were there that night. So tell me, did I deserve this? Is this what you had in mind when you joined the ranks of death eaters? To be a killer and a torturer? Answer me."

Draco flinched at the accusation and the fury emanating from her. Slowly, painstakingly, he said a single word.

"No."

"So don't ever talk to me about blood purity, Malfoy!"

Hermione glared at him, challenging him to defend himself. He didn't.

Draco could still see the Dark Mark out of the corner of his eye, though, and he wanted it out of sight. He pulled up his sleeves again to hide the obscene, sneering symbol of his past. Something stirred in him.

"I am sorry for what my aunt did to you," Draco finally said, looking up. "Actually harming another person was never something I thought becoming a Death Eater would entail. I became one, so I could redeem my family. Elevate us in the eyes of the Dark Lord, you see, because we actually feared for our lives, in the end."

"Don't give me the whole victim of circumstances shit, Malfoy."

"I'm telling it like it is. You may want to blame me for your entire misfortune, Granger, and perhaps it is easier to target me since you already hated me," Draco said, his voice rising, "but I did not do that to you." He pointed to her forearm. "I am not responsible for the actions of my aunt."

"Maybe not, Malfoy. You may not have hurt anyone yourself, but you supported their beliefs for a long time, you still do. And that makes you just as guilty as your aunt or the Dark Lord or any of the Death Eaters. You only backed out because you were too much of a coward to fully commit to either side."

Draco smiled coldly. "Ah yes, talking about the right side must be so easy when there's Voldemort on the other -"

"-Easy?" Hermione looked livid.

"-You didn't have the Dark Lord set up in your home and have a muggle fed to a snake right in front of you-"

"-Easy?"

"-you didn't have to worry about the Dark Lord losing his temper and murdering your parents-"

"-you think it is easy to wipe your parents' memory of you and send them off to God-knows-where? You think it is easy watching the people you know and love die in front of you?" Hermione was livid. She drew herself up to her full height. "None of it was easy, Malfoy, "Hermione said. "None of it."

Malfoy was still not done. "And what makes you think it was any easier for me? What's with the self righteousness, Granger? Do you really believe you are better than me, because you never believed in blood purity? And what would you even know about choices?

You had the whole wizarding world backing you, praying for your safety. Saving the world. You did not have to worry about the safety of your family. Pretty convenient, don't you think, wiping your parents' memory and sending them off far? Frees you up to traipse around the world on the back of a dragon, doesn't it? Oh yes, I read. Probably even eases your conscience. Gives you time off to play the hero-"

"-that is not fair, Malfoy."

"-None of this was fair, Granger," he snapped, cutting her across. His anger was barely concealed. He gripped the chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. "None of this."

They stood staring daggers at each other, each refusing to back down.

And then-

"I'm glad we had that sorted out," Hermione said.

"Good."

They both looked away. Malfoy sat down in the sofa and busied himself with the book. Hermione bent over her desk and pored over the scrolls once again. They worked until supper.

They ate in compete silence. When it was over, Hermione levitated the dishes to the sink and then went out onto the balcony. She felt she needed some fresh air and clarity.

It was wrong of her to lash out at him like that. Sure, he was a death eater once, but he was not responsible for all the death and destruction that Voldemort caused. And, despite everything, he had protected them that night in the manor in the best way he could.

Malfoy was right. He may have been on the side of Death Eaters, but he was never one of them. Not really. It was unfair to blame him for the crimes of his family. Or, even, for all the little spats they had at school since their first year. Which now seemed silly.

And he may be proud of his blood and lineage still, but he was no longer blind to the fact that he had once supported a murderer. Or that he had almost become one himself. War had changed him. It had changed everyone.

But hearing the words blood purity, uttered so casually, had brought back some of the terrors of that night. And a lot of other nights. And the memory of numerous lives lost in the war. And a lot of other memories. The cruelty of the Voldemort's reign had left quite a trail of red.

It was disturbing how an ideal defined by two little words had caused so much pain and suffering in the world.

Hermione wanted to be sure Draco understood he had been on the wrong side. Not because that side had lost, but because everything that side did and believed in were so obviously wrong. And not just for his sake, but for her sake, as well. If Draco was indeed redeemed and redeemable, then there was still room for hope in the world. She needed that hope.

The wizarding world banked on that hope, too.

There was a time when Hermione would have liked to imagine that Draco stood by laughing in glee as his father and aunt tortured muggles for fun, or that he even joined in from time to time. But deep down, she knew that was hardly the case. It was not as easy as the world being split into those who chose Good and those who chose Evil. Sometimes, you just didn't have a choice.

And that day in the manor had shown her something different. A scared young man, caught in the midst of it all, wanting an out but seeing none.

She briefly wondered what that was like. Her choices had been clear from the beginning. But then again, her parents had never been prejudiced maniacs, either.

Sins of our fathers...it caught up to us, eventually.

And if not for that incident in the Eighth Year common room, she never would have thought of Draco as a victim, either.

Truth is, no one really escaped the war unscathed.

Some nights, she could almost feel Bellatrix's breath on her neck again. And the pressure of cold steel against her skin...

Feeling tired, Hermione returned to her room. She was surprised to find Draco lying on one side of her bed, atop the covers. Quickly recovering, she made to the other side, and slipped under the covers. Draco didn't move.

"That was quite a conversation, earlier."

"Things needed to be said. And heard."

They both stared up at the ceiling. Sighing, Hermione spoke. "Don't worry, Malfoy. We can go back to hating each other when we're safely back home."

Softly, so Hermione had to almost strain herself to hear, Draco spoke.

"I never hated you, Granger. Not really."

The war changed people. It provided them clarity. It showed them who they really were. Hermione closed her eyes.

"Yeah, me neither."

Just as she drifted off to sleep, she felt Draco rise and make his way to his own room. He shut the door gently behind him.

A/N:

How awesome is that I'm listening to Nirvana right now?

Come as you are, as you were As I want you to be As a friend, as a friend As a known enemy Take your time, hurry up Choice is yours, don't be late Take a rest as a friend As an old Memoria, memoria Memoria, memoria