Sorry it took so long to write this- it's a difficult subject. CONTAINS SELF-HARM AND EATING DISORDER THEMES.
Draco sat alone in an abandoned classroom. His mind drifted slowly in and out to memories of the war. His parent's death was a shock, if expected. As was Snape's death. It was a tragic minefield of memories of death and misery. He slumped further into the corner of the room he occupied, and discarded his wand a few metres away from him. The weather outside was terrible, and on the fine Saturday that he found himself on, most people were inside. He couldn't bear outside; too lively, too happy, too many thoughts. Not many people bothered with this crumbling side of the old castle now, and stayed within stable classrooms, even at weekends. He half expected two lovesick love-birds to come wandering in and invade his privacy, but none came. He was truly alone. "I really am lonesome." He half smiled to himself, as he heard thundering footsteps and child-like giggles outside his classroom. He ran his fingers through his silver-gold hair and frowned as his hands fell to his pointed features. He went to scratch a patch on his outer thigh, but winced in pain. Cursing under his breath, he stood up. He glanced around the classroom; in it there were a few broken chairs and desks, a collapsed blackboard, and his wand. Slowly stepping to where he threw it, he replaced the wand back into his pocket and made his way towards the door to the large, stony corridor.
"Draco!" A shrill, wizened voice rang out behind him as he made his way back to his dormitory. He turned to see the slightly weary face of Hermione Granger. Her usually bushy hair was straightened into a sleek form, gracing her shoulders and her eyes glistened in the fading sunlight. He sighed angrily.
"What, Mudblood?" She flinched slightly at the insult, but smiled on.
"Uh…" She fumbled around in her jacket pocket. "Here." She presented Draco a yellowed letter with a very dark green seal on the back of the envelope.
"Thanks." He stepped forward to meet Granger, and took the letter swiftly out of her nimble fingers. The two stood in silence for a moment, before Hermione piped up.
"Uh, Erol brought it." She shifted uncomfortably under Draco's scouring gaze. "We think it's from Blaise." She pointed slightly towards the handwriting on the front, "He likes curling his letters." Draco nodded and turned towards the corridor where his common room was.
"Thanks," he thought about the next word to himself and settled on it. "Hermione." The word rolled off his tongue like freshly brewed butterbeer. He hummed softly to himself as Hermione called after him.
"See you around, Draco."
"Sure, Mudblood."
By the time Draco had settled into his dorm, stripped, and clambered into bed, it was at least eleven at night. As Blaise had gone to a new Wizarding school (of which Draco had never heard of) he had the dorm to himself. He admired the silk and velvet wall-hangings and cushions, the silver armoire and dark wood dressing table. He gazed out of the French window by his bed out into the Black Lake and sighed. He swanned over to the dressing table where he'd left Blaise's letter, and picked the envelope up. He read aloud; "Dear Draco, sorry about your parent's, bullshit, it's a loud of crap being on your own, psssh, but you can always write to me! I've put in a few galleons at my vault in Gringotts, so you've always got cash. Don't spend it all at once though! Urgh, Blaise shut up about money. Pansy's missing you like hell… you two had something special, y'know? Anyway, gotta dash, I'm meeting Rumbleroar… whoever that is! Blaise Zabini." He threw the letter back on the dresser and thought of his lost love. Pansy. He shuddered at her name. She'd cheated on him with his best friend. Well his only friend. "Stupid bitch." He growled angrily, and slumped into his large double bed. As soon as his fragile head hit the pillow, he fell asleep.
He woke up to a start in the early hours of the morning. Floods of flashbacks attacked his spinning mind. Many were of his parents, many were of the war, and a fair few were flash backs of his own. He felt hot tears streaming down his face without regret. He pummelled his pillow viciously, and reached underneath it when he was blind with tears. Only, when he punched the goose feather pillow, he didn't hit the firm mattress he slept on; he hit a sharp object. He suddenly stopped attacking his pillow, and sat up on his hands. He examined the obviously empty room, and took the object from out from under his pillow. They were scissors; a pair of old fashioned muggle scissors that Pansy got him for their anniversary when they were younger. The handle had flower shaped pearls on it; the blade was once shiny and new, but now smudged. He looked around the room again and sighed. Carefully and with particular precision, he took the scissors out in front of him. He glanced to his dark mark; why the hell wouldn't it fade? Slowly, and still scrutinizing the room, he took the blade to his left arm, and cut slowly and deeply. He let out a long, exasperated gasp, and curled his toes together. He muttered under his breath as he drew the cool blade against his radiating skin once again.
"You man-slut!" Hermione had Ron pressured against a post on his double bed, where Hannah Abbott had lay a few hours before. She held her wand in one shaking hand, and the Marauders map firmly in the other. Her face was blotched from crying, and all along her arms and neck, she had ink prints, from writing too fast.
"She offered herself to me!" Ron protested, his muscles twitching under such stress. Hermione's faced dropped into rage driven shock.
"I thought you loved me!" Hermione's voice was hoarse from shouting. Ron glanced around the Gryffindor dorms; all the other boys had gone into the common room to give the pair some privacy.
"I…" Ron stuttered, pointing to three bottles of firewhiskey on the bed, "I was drunk!" Hermione's face dropped once again, although it seemed impossible.
"It is over, Ronald Billius Weasley!" Hermione released the map, and let her right hand come into firm contact with Ron's face.
Hermione sank into a chair in the Common Room. Harry came over to her and patted her shoulder. "It's okay, Mione." He comforted. She snorted.
"I hate him." Her words were bitter and full of hate. She scoured the room, and glared at Dean Thomas, who was eyeing her up. "I hate it here." Harry glanced out of a window, and then smiled.
"Just go wander." He handed her the wand she dropped when she first came into the room. "You're angry." He winked happily, "You'll be okay."
Hermione prowled the dungeons like a hungry cheetah; ready to pounce on anything that moves. She walked for a while, only stopping her deep thoughts when she heard sobbing. She stopped dead in her tracks, and listened for a moment. When she'd worked out who the person was, she ran towards the Slytherin common rooms. The portrait met her, and she mumbled something she'd heard a few first years say a few days before. The painting swung open, and she stormed in. "Draco?!"
And suddenly, Draco put the blade down. The voice echoed into where he slept. Nobody in the dungeons stirred but him. The blade rested on the bed next to him. "Hermione?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the sounds of thundering footsteps above his dorm. "Hermione?" His voice called out a little louder. The door creaked open, and a shaken Hermione Granger tip-toed in.
"Draco?" Her voice was slightly broken from shouting, but nonetheless it had the same know-it-all tone as usual. Hermione observed the Slytherin; Draco was sat up in his large, king sized bed with long, deep gashes up his left arm. His thigh too, seemed to be bruised or cut, though Hermione was unsure from the distance of the room.
"Uh…" Draco scanned Hermione quickly; her hair was in a tousled ponytail, and the remnants of her makeup had slunk down her sweat-ridden face. She wore a pair of baggy trousers with a pale pink checked pattern on, and an over-sized button up top in the same rose pink. He made an attempt to hide the scissors, but failed; Hermione stopped him. Something in Hermione's voice choked as she spoke to Draco.
"Are you okay?" Her hands shook as she put a neglected bit of hair behind her left ear.
Draco shook his head. "No." He pulled a discarded jacket over his arms, and smiled sarcastically. "I don't think I'll ever be okay." Hermione sniffed loudly, and perched at the end of Draco's bed.
"I'm sorry." She looked at the boys arms, and noticed the flinch when she did so. "Why did you do it?" She pointed to the hidden cuts and frowned.
"That's none of your business." He snapped.
"Don't be like that, Draco. I'm not going to tell anyone."
"Promise?" His voice was tender and scared.
She nodded, "I swear it."
"I get these… Dreams. They scare me- make me mad. So I do this."
"Does it hurt?" Her tone softened greatly as she spoke.
"Yes." He winced, "A lot."
"Please stop."
"You don't understand." He frowned angrily; "If you did, you wouldn't say that."
"Try me." She challenged.
Draco waved his hands dismissively, and changed the subject. "Why are you here, Granger?"
She let out an exasperated sigh. "I was mad so I walked."
"Bored of Gryffindor?" A small quirk of a smile flickered upon Draco's lips, but dropped when he saw Hermione's sudden saddened face.
"No. Ron… We…" Hermione's face was suddenly red hot with anger. Draco felt the rage radiating from her, "He cheated." Her voice was plain and matter-of-a-fact; she'd accepted it, it seemed.
"When did you find out?" He said, sitting up further, as to study the fuming girl.
"This morning." She sighed. "A Ravenclaw told me." And then, Hermione went on to describe the tall, Ravenclaw first year that saw Ron and Hannah. She told him about their argument, and then about her storming out. She then told him something nobody else knew.
"Draco?" Her voice was strangled and hoarse.
"Yes, Hermione?" He'd since gotten closer, sitting almost thigh to thigh. Hermione's eyes scattered between candles to portrait, scanning for any signs of life.
"I know how you feel." She sighed heavily, and pulled up her sleeve to reveal a skeletal arm. Draco's face fell to show something between shock, sadness and anger. Hermione relented as Draco stretched out a shaking hand to stroke the bones of her left arm, and she didn't even flinch when he traced 'Mudblood' with his pointed forefinger.
"When did you become like this?" Draco forced himself to speak.
"I stopped a few weeks ago." She gazed out of the window, though darkness blocked the view.
"Why?" Draco dropped his hand, and watched as Hermione pulled the sleeve to her wrists.
"Men like skinny girls." Hermione felt the bones in her legs and smiled broadly, "And now I'm skinny." Her hand ran from the top of her thigh to her hip bone, and she smiled again, this time at Draco.
"No," he started, becoming almost angry in his words, "men like something to hold; something to keep them warm at night. Men don't like the walking dead, Hermione!" He let an angry sigh escape him, and then placed a hand on Hermione's right cheek. "Look at you." He gestured with his spare hand at her entire person; from her straggly hair to her prominent cheek bones. "Your skin is too pale." He stroked her cheek affectionately, "You're as cold as death and your eye sockets… Hermione they should not be purple. You look bruised." His face screwed up in anger. "He didn't!?"
"No." Hermione protested meekly.
"Hermione Granger, did he hurt you?" Draco looked her in the eyes, and saw the truth in her words.
"No, he didn't." Draco sighed and ran the back of his hand over her face.
"You were wonderful before, Hermione." He smiled sweetly, "All that running around with Potter, you were in perfect shape."
"But I was never good enough for Ron." She scoffed, and touched her gouged arm, "I'm a Mudblood."
Draco frowned and let his hands drop to just behind her. "So?" He turned Hermione's head gently so that she faced him. "You're no less than purebloods though." He reassured, letting himself soften. She tapped her arm where she'd be carved, and gave a pleading look.
"Then why this?" And then Draco said something that he never thought he'd say; but he wasn't lying to anyone, least of all himself.
"The first casualty of war is innocence, Hermione. You have no crimes but being who you are." She smiled and touched his arm softly.
Hermione and Draco sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, before Hermione got up. "I need to sleep." She rubbed her eyes, nodded her goodbyes, and apparated back to her bedroom, where she slept for the first time in weeks.
Draco too, had a better time sleeping after Hermione had left.
The next week, everyone went to Hogsmeade.
"No, Harry!" Hermione sat on the train with Harry.
"Please, 'Mione!" He poked at her sides until she relented.
"But I want to eat this myself!"
"But I'm hungry!"
"We'll be there soon, silly!" She smiled, but still let Harry take a bite out of her pumpkin pasty.
"There!" He wiped crumbs off of his chin and grinned.
When the train pulled into Hogsmeade, Hermione was stopped by a familiar face. "Draco!" Hermione quickly finished her food, and smiled at the Slytherin.
"Hello, Hermione." His tone was as icy as the footpath they walked along. "How are you?" Hermione thought; it had been a week since she'd even seen Draco. She was more worried about him than anything.
"I'm good!" She smiled, and then passed a worried look to Draco, "How are you?" Draco smiled and rested his hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"Brilliant!" He stuck his tongue out in jest, and laughed with Hermione. "I wish this would go, though!" He showed Hermione the glowing dark mark as they walked slowly through Hogsmeade.
Hermione thought for a moment, and then grinned. "I have an idea!" They walked almost too close to each other in silence until they reached the hill overlooking the Shrieking Shack.
"Well?" Draco put his hands on his hips and smiled fondly. "What's the idea?" Hermione paced a few steps away from him and smiled shyly.
"Well… the holidays are next week…" She fumbled with her hands, "And I'm staying in a little bed and breakfast just outside London… and well…" She pointed to Draco's arm, "I know someone who can cover that up…" Without letting Hermione finish, Draco ran up to the mumbling girl and swept her into a warming embrace.
"You're brilliant!" He laughed loudly, and kissed Hermione's forehead. From within his muscular build, Hermione felt her face flush a dark red.
"Draco!" She stepped out of the hug to show her reddening face to the grinning boy.
"Yes?" He smiled charmingly, and held Hermione's waist. He let her study his face for a few seconds as he gazed happily into her chocolate-coloured eyes. Then, without warning, he picked her up so she was level to his face.
"Oh…" Hermione whimpered giddily as Draco leant into her, and clasped his pale, whitened lips onto her perfectly formed, ros