Disclaimer: I didn't write Harry Potter. This isn't mine. Neither is the quote I borrowed from A Song Of Ice And Fire.
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"Draco! What the hell are you doing?"
Time had passed, like it always does, and most people in the wizarding world had managed to move on too, leaving the past behind them. She thought he had moved on.
There was red all over him, all over the floor. She prayed it wasn't blood.
It had been 5 years since the end of the war. Long enough for people to forgive, although they could never forget. Long enough for people to change, become new people.
She could see a flash of silver, shaking, in amongst the red.
The Order of the Phoenix had changed too. It became a support group of sorts, for those damaged by the war. They didn't care whether the damage was physical or emotional, or who you had fought for. Everyone was broken, everyone had lost so much. It had been her idea to keep the name. They were all struggling to rise again from the ashes. It had been how she had befriended Draco, actually. She treasured that memory, the beginning of their friendship.
She ran over to him, wishing fervently that he wasn't about to become a memory.
They were at the first Hogwarts reunion since the war, but most of the people there were members of the Order. The others, who weren't in the Order, it was the first time she had seen many of them since the war, and some of their stories were surprising. Happy, sad, still unsure, all these lives were nothing like they imagined, back when they had first started Hogwarts.
"Draco! Are you ok? What happened?" The red was blood. His blood. Oh god.
He had slipped away from her, squeezing her hand and sauntering over to talk to the Slytherins who were at the reunion. He left her with the recently engaged Neville and Luna, and she had become absorbed in their conversation about Herbology, and Neville's plans for the greenhouses at Hogwarts. Luna was bursting with pride beside him, and Hermione was thrilled for the pair.
He mumbled at her, the words indecipherable. His eyes, they were what hurt her the most.
It had been about an hour, and Hermione had scanned the great hall for her boyfriend. She worried when she couldn't find him, but dismissed it. The Slytherins must have gone to their common room for old times sake. Only, there was Pansy, and Nott, and Zabini. And Millicent and Astoria were talking to Goyle. He was the only Slytherin she couldn't find.
His eyes were the only external sign of his emotions, they always had been. Right now despair swirled with self loathing and desperation.
Hermione had quietly gathered her things and left the hall, careful not to draw suspicion or make a scene. She had quickly strode through the halls, casting Homenum Revelio at each door she passed. He had not been in the first bathroom she tried, but the second.
He was stood over the sinks, a knife in his right hand, his left arm covered in blood.
Hermione grabbed his hand, prying the knife away from vice like fingers. She was shaking almost as much as he was, and the sight of him like this horrified her. Hermione caught Draco's chin with her hand, and turned his face so she could look him in the eye.
"I, I wanted to change." His voice sounded broken, completely unlike his usual confident self.
"I know Draco," she soothed, not understanding. She grabbed the towel, cast a non verbal scourgify and began to dab away the blood as she talked. There was too much blood for her to work out what he'd done to himself.
"I remember you wanted to change, that's why you came to the Order, right? That's how you and I became friends, and then boyfriend and girlfriend. You did change, baby. You did a fantastic job, and I'm so proud of you."
He didn't flinch when she dabbed at his left arm, trying to see how bad the damage was. She didn't know if he was numb from blood loss or just being stoic.
"Not enough" Draco muttered. "People still see me the same as before. I don't want to be that person anymore." He looked at her plaintively, and her heart broke at the pain in his eyes. Tearing her eyes back down to his arms, she couldn't help but suck in a horrified breath as she saw what he had done to himself. His left forearm had been pale skin, and a black tattoo. Now it was a mess of uneven red, the skin ripped off in chunks, like a hastily peeled vegetable. The analogy made Hermione wince. His skin was gone, and so was the Dark Mark. The damage was unbelievable, and the pain must have been excruciating.
"Draco…" Hermione was stunned. His arm was one of the ugliest things she had ever seen, the raw pain marring what had previously been beauty. The sight of it jarred something inside her; it was like seeing a physical impossibility. It was just … wrong.
"Wanted to change. Didn't want that anymore. People still see me like I was before. That's not me, not how I want to be." Draco was going in circles, and it was all Hermione could do to understand him.
"Baby, you have changed. You have. You're not to blame if they're too narrow minded to see it. I'm going to heal your arm, ok?"
"No! No. Don't want the Mark to come back. That's why they don't see the change. I'm branded, an evil, murderous-"
"Stop!" Hermione cried. "You are not a murderer, you are not evil, and you are going to let me heal your arm. It would eventually heal itself anyway. I'm sure the Mark won't come back." If Draco heard the note of doubt in her voice, he didn't react to it. He stood immobile, rooted to the spot where she had found him, and watched her healing him in the mirror.
A small voice in his head told him he didn't deserve to be healed by her, he was nothing, and she was so good and kind and right. A louder voice shouted the small voice down, no, he thought. I am worth being healed. Hermione helped me see that. Hermione helped me change, become a better person. The small voice had a nasty, manipulative tone, and it hissed at him. It asked why he was here if he was a better person, why he had a tattoo he had needed to cut out of his skin. Draco faltered, and jerked his half healed arm away from Hermione.
"Stop, leave me alone. I don't need healing anymore. I'm fine." He couldn't meet her eyes. This was not the first time they'd had a conversation like this, but it was the first time he'd done something this drastic. Hermione let his arm drop, the partially formed skin on his arm red and sore, uneven where there were still chunks of flesh missing underneath. It was nowhere near the mess of muscle and sinew it had been before. Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco, and held him close to her body, her cheek pressed against his chest. She closed her eyes and willed him to see himself the way she did.
She understood, to some degree, how he felt. None of her close friends cared about her parents, that they were non magical. A few people still looked down on her because of it, although more covertly than they used to. But there was a time when she had been singled out, attacked, even tortured because she was muggle born. It was beyond her control, just a quirk of fate and chance. Draco's parents were also beyond his control, a random event in life, and he had been singled out because of that. He had believed what he had been taught, and done what had been asked of him, until it came to killing Dumbledore.
Draco had done what he had been taught was right, until the stakes got too high. That was all Hermione had ever done, and she didn't hate him for it. He was a better person now, he had revaluated his definition of right and wrong. Sighing, she pulled away from his unresponsive torso, and looked him in the eye.
Tugging up the sleeve of her robes, she made Draco look at her scar.
"Look. I've been marked too, it says quite clearly what I am."
"Don't-" he turned away from her, but she carried on regardless.
"I am a mudblood Draco. It's an inescapable fact of life. It's not my fault, it just happened. The world wouldn't let me forget I was a mudblood, and so I didn't. I became proud of it. How many other students could get over 100% in a magical exam with a non magical background?"
"You're different to me!" He interrupted. "You're a good person, nobody cares about your blood anymore. Everyone cares that I used to be a-"
"Death-eater." It was another taboo word in their relationship, but truth was truth, and it couldn't be changed.
"Yes, you used to be a death-eater. What other choice did you have? It was unavoidable. You're a good person too, and nobody ought to care who you used to be!"
"But they do." Draco wrapped his uninjured arm around her back, and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. It was as close as he ever got to asking for comfort.
"So do what I did. Don't forget who you are, accept it. Embrace it. Baby, you joined the Order of the Phoenix because you wanted to become someone new, you wanted to change and become better after the war. How many other death eaters joined the Order?"
"None. There was only me. Stop calling me baby." His reply was muffled by her hair, and her lips almost twitched into a smile when he admonished her.
"Exactly, it was only you who had the courage to acknowledge that you were led into some bad choices, and it was only you who was brave enough to try and change, and to atone for what you did. That's something amazing Draco, something you did. Something that proves to me that you are a good person."
"Explain that to the others then." Draco's voice bordered on sulky.
Hermione pulled her head back so she could look at his face, but kept her body close to his.
"Don't you ever listen to me? Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you. You are a reformed death eater. You have every reason to be proud of yourself, so hold your head high. If you act ashamed, they'll think you've got a reason to be ashamed."
"You make everything sound so easy."
"It probably won't be. But I'll be here beside you."
Draco pulled his arms free of Hermione and examined his left arm critically, the surface lumpy and uneven. Hermione peered at his arm too, and looked like she was contemplating healing it further. Draco looked at her suspiciously.
"Leave it, Hermione, it doesn't matter anymore. I'd rather see that than heal it fully and risk the Dark Mark returning." Hermione looked up at him, concern in her eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"After the war, after it all, I tried to change, and become a person I could be proud of, someone who made the right choices. Every now and then I'd look down and see that thing on my arm, and it would be like I was leading someone else's life, like I was still that horrible, prejudiced, and mislead person from before, playing at being nice. Have you ever felt like an imposter in your own skin?"
Hermione just gazed at Draco, lost for words.
Draco flexed his fingers, and winced at the stiffness.
"Might just take some getting used to" he admitted, but Hermione knew he still wouldn't let her heal him, even if his arm hurt every time he moved his hand. He lifted his fingers to her face, determined that he could, and would use his hand like before.
"Feels like every time I'm lost, you find me." The words were so soft Hermione nearly missed them. She kissed the fingers on his left hand.
"I love you too Draco."
xxxxx
So, the Song of Ice and Fire quote – "Let me give you some advice bastard. Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour, and it can never be used against you." Tyrion Lannister is just awesome.
This was almost a songfic, but the lyrics didn't really fit anywhere. I guess I loosely based this on Someone Else's Life, by Joshua Radin. Some of the lyrics (that belong to their respective owners, and not me) I really liked were:
"Somehow/I'm leading someone else's life/cut a star down/with my knife.
And right now/I'll be the boy in your next song/I'll learn the parts and play along/if you let me.
Cause then came you/then there's you/when I'm lost/I look at my picture of you.
When I'm lost/in your eyes/I see a way for me."
I feel like I accidentally turned Draco into House at the end there, but I'm ok with that cause House is awesome too.
I was a bit unsure about this fic, so any reviews would be appreciated.
Apologies for the ridiculously long A/N.