Written for Dyno_Drabbles and won First Place! Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
When she found him, Hermione sat next to Draco on the massive boulder, her clothes and skin damp with the ocean air. "Your parents were wondering where you'd gone off to," she murmured. She didn't look at him, only stared out at the Atlantic, like he did, watching the dolphins leap ahead of a fishing ship that was heading towards the quay.
"They always know I'm here, Granger," he said with a derisive snort. "They just sent you to talk to me, see if you could get me to stop moping." He threw the smooth stone he'd been handling, observing as it skipped across the top of the water to finally sink some yards off.
Trying not to smirk, she nudged his shoulders with hers. "Yes—why is that? Of all the people they could ask to talk to you, they asked me." She looked at him, noticing a hollowness that lingered about him. "It's been a few years since the war ended."
He scowled and pulled his long legs up to his chest. "And? For some of us, it's never over."
"No," she agreed, mirroring his pose, "some things will never leave us."
Stealing a glance, Draco noticed dark circles under her eyes, much like his own. "Nightmares?"
She nodded. "Vivid nightmares." Turning to face him, she laid her hand on his left arm. "Does it still hurt?"
His muscles stiffened briefly from her touch but soon relaxed again. "Sometimes." He turned his forearm over and pushed his sleeve up, something he never did in front of others. "It's faded, like father's, but I don't think it'll ever go away."
Hesitantly, she reached out to trace the blackish-green mark that was seared into his arm. "I remember sixth year when I found you trying to—"
"Carve it off my skin," he finished for her, smiling ruefully. "I honestly think I would've done more damage if it hadn't been for you. Perhaps that's why Mother sent for you when I became morose."
She was taken aback by this. "You told Narcissa I helped you that night?"
He shrugged, unconcerned. "She asked me about the scars around the mark; I told her. If I had tried to lie, she would've known it."
"Well, it healed rather nicely, if I must say," Hermione said with a forced laugh. She patted his arm and made to withdraw, but his hand over hers stopped her progress.
"She knew she could trust you," he whispered. "And while my mother may be many things, I have never doubted her love for me."
Moving closer, she laid her head upon his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his back. "She's right, you can trust me."
Draco placed a feather-light kiss on top of her mop of curls. "I knew that long ago." He returned his gaze to the swell and ebb of the ocean tide and sighed. "I just have to trust myself."