Flawless

Hermione ran out of the common room in tears, again.

'Why do they have to act like such... jerks!' She thought angrily as she fiercely wiped the tears away, absent-mindingly retracing the footsteps she followed almost everyday.

Finding herself at the prefects bathroom once again, Hermione muttered the password and ducked inside. Stripping at the base of the vast bathtub that was filling up, she thought of what ignorant pricks both Harry and Ron were.

She just couldn't stand how full of themselves they were ever since the Voldemort had been defeated.

Dipping in, she let the warm water caress her skin before swimming a few laps. Swimming always helped her calm down. In the more warmer months, she would usually go down to the lake, but it was too cold for that now.

She looked up as she heard the door creak open, noting a head of blonde. Thankful for the foamy bubbles, she held on to the edge with her torso facing the bottom.

"Malfoy?"

Draco, who was wearing his wet Quidditch robes, was surprised to hear his fellow Head's voice.

"What are you doing here?" Draco's voice echoed from afar.

"Oh I don't know Malfoy. Am I not allowed to take a bath?" Sarcasm laced Hermione's usually contained voice.

"It's past midnight." He pointed out.

Curious, Draco slowly approached Hermione, avoiding eye contact. Hermione crossed her arms on the ledge and rested her head on it with a sigh.

"Late Quidditch practice?" She asked, surprising even herself with the civil question. Even though the pair shared a common room, they always fought.

Draco sat on the corner of the bathtub, still avoiding the mysterious chocolate orbs. "Yeah." He bit back an insult.

"Why do you always keep your team up so late practising? You know Gryffindor is going to beat you anyways." Humour returned to her voice again.

"Very funny. Crabbe and Goyle may be good at defending the goal posts, but if they're not going to stop eating, they will fall right off their brooms. Hermione laughed at the thought of the fatties stuffing their faces.

She adjusted herself, back breaking the surface, beforeducking being swallowed back in again. What caught Malfoy's eye was the bold white scar that streaked down fromwaists boulder, down to her hip, in a scraggy straight line, as far he could see.

The slight grin on Malfoy's face vanished, leaving an expression of horror. "Who did that to you?" He asked, cautiously leaning forward to let his finger penetrate the water's surface, and to trace the scar that ran deep.

It was double edged, indicating that the sword had two blades weld together, but the weapon should have been close ranged to make a scar so deep and precise, so a knife.

Hermione retreated back in shock, remembering who she was talking to. What dark secret he had chanced upon. She grabbed a towel from a the edge of the tub and quickly covered herself, and running out, without even her wand.

Dashing out into the empty, yet cold corridor, Hermione didn't know where she was going until she collapsed in a corner, near the portrait of Barnabad the Barmy, trembling in tears. Wrapping the towel tighter, onto her shoulders, she curled up into a ball, crying when she felt a blanket of warmth engulf her.

Draco had hesitated before chasing after her, cursing her agility and speed. She was, after all, weighed down by nothing, while he lugged around his tough Quidditch shell of a uniform. When he saw her break down in a random corner, he approached her carefully, like a wounded deer, only to surprise both her and himself. He hugged her from behind.

He knew how it felt to be in a bloody damned mess and not have anybody to support him, except for that annoying ghost he knew in the deserted girl's bathroom. Feeling her shake against him, he turned her around so she could bury her head in his chest. It was after quite some time before she calmed down, but she was still quivering due to the excessive coldness. "Don't you think you should have picked up your wand Granger?" He teased softly into her damp hair, having forgotten his own, and attempting to generate heat by rubbing his hands over her arms.

Hermione started crying yet again, and Draco silently scolded himself before rubbing her arm more comfortingly.

"It's my parents."

"What?"

Hermione broke free from the embrace, letting the towel fall from the back to show the scar. It ran around to the side of her stomach, like a snake strangling its prey. Pulling the towel back up, she explained with more tears welling up in her eyes.

"It was during summer when it happened. My parents and I had just come back from a trip. Everybody was so happy that Voldemort was g-gone, and no one took any precautions. My parents and I were having a great time, singing, dancing, laughing, drinking hot cocoa. I could have never imagined what happened next. Death Eaters. They had broken out from Azkaban, and came for me right away. I mean it's so stupid. The ministry had just caught them. Wouldn't there have been extra precautions!? They tortured my parents mercilessly. They were tortured right in front of me." More tears fell, yet she backed away further into the corner.

"Draco... your father did this to me."

Draco stayed silent. His father? He thought that his father was dead, and good riddance. How had they broken out with such heavy guarding? He finally looked directly into her eyes, seeing all the pain. All the suffering.

Now, he remembered. His father's cane had a dagger hidden beneath, with two snakes coiled around it. He had once, once only, been on the receiving end of it's fearsome blaces.

With the hidden memory unfolding in remembrance, Hermione truly lost control of her emotions. She buried her head in Draco's lap and let out a stifled scream of agony she had kept in all this time. Sobbing uncontrollably, she kept crying out loudly with her hands in her hair. "They were killed," she cried into his now soaked jeans that had peeped out from beneath his Quidditch robes.

"and then they were inferi." a wave of fresh tears cascaded her face.

His heart sank. He knew that only a few very skilled wizards could transform inferi, and his father was one of the only Death Eaters' that could. How could he be so cruel? Her sobs didn't cease, and every sob caused a stab of guilt to pierce his heart.

A lone tear almost ran down his face. It was unusual for him to feel so effected, but no one could bear the sight that was before him. He tried to stand up, letting Hermione lean on him for complete support.

Thankful for the short distance to the blasted Room of Requirement (screw Head rules), he collapsed on the sofa, with Hermione on him. She had already drifting off to sleep, and he was too tired to move. Especially after a full day of training on the field. He gave her a firm squeeze to let her know he was there for her to cry on, and she returned it sleepily.

So, with Hermione in a damp towel, and Draco in his muddy robes, they both fell asleep in a heap, in an embrace. It was flawless.

~Fin.

A/N: I have a poll up on my page for whether or not I should continue this story. GO VOTE! Thanks to Chlorinated Freak who pointed out my little inferi mistake ;)

XoX