Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own anything.
A/N: This is my first Harry Potter story...I'm a smidge nervous, but hopefully it turned out alright...
A Scar Away From Falling Apart
They weren't friends, never had been, and never would be. He had barely spent more than a few moments around the girl and up until a month ago, he hadn't even been in the same room with her for five years. She despised him and everything he believed in and he considered her to be beneath him. They didn't like each other and had been no more than civil to one another since the first day they were forced to work together. But he was a perceptive man and it didn't take long for him to realize that she had changed.
Upon first glance, she seemed fine, almost perfect. She was always well put together, outfit neat and hair done. But the more time he spent alongside her, the clearer the little things became. The fire that used to blaze in her eyes had fizzled out, leaving her gaze dull and passionless. She was jumpy, nearly paranoid, and any little movement or touch would cause her to twitch or jerk away. At first he assumed it was his presence that was causing such a reaction, but after witnessing her interact with the rest of her colleagues he realized this was her reaction to any kind of human contact.
It didn't take long for her to catch his interest, and he began watching her. He didn't follow her home or lurk in the shadows, but he did make a habit of noticing her movements and responses. Her edginess had been getting worse and worse and she no longer seemed able to control and recover from her anxiety. She always seemed frightened and her eyes would incessantly scan the room as if she wasexpecting something to jump out at her. She never went out of her way to interact with others and had taken to locking herself in her office, working at all hours of the night. He tended to stay late, as he had no one to go home to, but she always stayed later, was always the last to leave.
As he sat at his desk working late once again, he began to wonder whether or not she went home at all. Resigning to the fact that he could no longer focus on his work, he got up and made his way out of his office. Walking down the dimly lit hall, he stopped in front of her open door and began to look her over.
She had lost weight since he had begun working with her. Her skin was paler than he ever remembered it being and there were dark purple circles around her eyes. It was clear to him that she had been using glamours to keep her appearance flawless during the day. But as the hours wore on, the glamours faded.
As he watched her work, he began to wonder what exactly had happened to turn her into this paranoid, workaholic witch. Trying his best not to startle her, he lightly tapped on her door to get her attention. She didn't seem to notice. This time, he knocked. Still nothing.
"Miss Granger?" he questioned.
Nothing.
"Miss Granger," he said more loudly.
Her head jolted upwards and her hand knocked over the empty mug that was resting on her desk. He could practically hear the quickening of her heartbeat. Upon seeing him standing before her, she began to take slow calming breaths.
"Mr. Malfoy, you startled me," she said sitting stalk still, refusing to meet his eyes.
"My apologies, Ms. Granger; I was merely trying to get your attention," he responded with sincerity.
"Of course," she said, looking past him. "Is there something I might help you with?"
He shook his head slightly. "I was simply on my way out and noticing your light, I decided to inquire as to what could possibly be keeping you here at this late hour."
Startled by his uncharacteristic concern for her actions, she took a moment to respond.
"I wanted to go over these files one more time before the hearing tomorrow; many of the statements are conflicting and I would like to have as clear an idea of the truth as possible before speaking in front of the Wizengamot," she spouted off in one breath, nearly stumbling over the words.
He was quite certain this was simply an excuse. He knew for a fact that she had spent the better part of the past week going over the files that lay before her. It was a rather high profile case, and she wasn't the only one assigned to it. He himself had been brought in to look over and give his opinion on a few of the details.
"Certainly you know all there is to know by this point, Ms. Granger. It is obvious that you are very thorough in all that you do and you have been preparing for this hearing for quite some time," he responded skeptically.
"Yes…of course, Mr. Malfoy, that is true…but you can never be overly prepared and knowing every little detail will ensure that I am at my best in the morning," she said hesitantly, fidgeting with the quill in her hand.
More excuses.
"Surely an evening at home with you husband and a good night's rest would guarantee that you are your best."
He noticed her visibly tense as the words 'home' and 'husband.' Curious, he thought, very curious.
For the first time since the beginning of their conversation she shifted her eyes to look at him directly. "Thank you for your…concern, Mr. Malfoy, but I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from informing me as to what is best for me. I am quite capable of deciding for myself," she responded tersely.
"Very well Ms. Granger, do as you please," he sighed in defeat. "But do try to get a good night's sleep. You look as though you haven't slept in months." He looked over her fragile form once more before turning and venturing towards the elevator. He shook his head as he heard her rummage through her desk, gasp and then recite a charm to alter her appearance.
Later that night, as he lay in bed attempting to fall asleep, he tried his best to put the young witch out of his mind.
He woke surprisingly late the next morning and flooed to work feeling as though he had barely left. He took notice of very little as he made his way to his office, but as he passed her office he couldn't help but steal a glance inside.
There she was, forehead resting on her desk, sound asleep in the same outfit she had been wearing the previous day. He tried to wake her by saying her name a few times, but she didn't budge. Venturing into her office, he gently shook her arm.
"Please, please stop," she begged in her sleep.
"Ms. Granger," he said, continuing to shake her.
"Let me go, please let me go."
He removed his hand from her arm and looked at her. She appeared to still be asleep. He watched her, not sure what to do.
"No, no, please, I'm sorry, just please let me go," she began to whimper.
Gripping her upper arm loosely, he began to shake her more forcefully than before.
"Ms. Granger, you are dreaming. Kindly wake up."
Her head snapped up quickly, her gaze suddenly meeting his. Her eyes were wide with fear and tears were running down her cheeks. She flinched as if in pain and ripped her arm from his grasp, holding it to her chest. The action surprised him as much as her tears and he took a step back cautiously.
"Ms. Granger?" he questioned hesitantly.
Her breathing was shallow and uneven as she frantically searched the room, taking in her surroundings. Realizing where she was, she closed her eyes and began desperately trying to steady her breathing.
"Hermione?" he said gently.
Taking a moment to smooth out her hair and her skirt, she turned towards him and placed a small smile on her face.
"Mr. Malfoy, how may I be of assistance?" she asked as though nothing out of the usual had occurred.
Taken aback by the casualness of her question, he was at a loss for words. He wasn't used to dealing with witches in such a state and didn't know what to do. As he searched his mind for answers she tilted her head, waiting patiently for his response.
Question her? Or pretend nothing happened? He couldn't decide.
"I believe you have a hearing to attend," he stated simply.
Her eyes flitted towards the time.
"Oh dear, you seem to be correct. Thank you for reminding me."
She was acting eerily calm and he wasn't sure how to proceed.
"Ms. Granger, are you…" he trailed off.
"I am perfectly fine, Mr. Malfoy. I appreciate you waking me," she said, giving him a reassuring smile before turning her attention to the papers on her desk and quickly gathering them into her arms.
"Now, if you'd kindly step aside, I am due in Courtroom 10 in less than fifteen minutes."
Still in shock, he took a step to the right and allowed her to pass.
"Thank you," she called over her shoulder as she briskly made her way out of the room.
An hour later, he found himself sitting at his desk unable to get the frantic, frightened, disheveled image of Hermione Granger out of his mind.
What had she been dreaming about? And why did she act as though I had hurt her arm? I was barely touching her.
The questions repeated themselves over and over again and he became determined to find answers.
Deciding he needed to clear his head, he got up from his desk and made his way out of his office just in time to see her walking down the hallway. Realizing that now was as good a time as any to confront her, he stepped forward blocking her path.
When she noticed him, her strides slowed until she came to a full stop before him.
"Mr. Malfoy," she greeted smoothly with a slight nod of her head.
He raised an eyebrow and returned her nod. How does she do it? How can she act as though nothing happened?
"May I have a word, Ms. Granger, in my office?"
She seemed to hesitate at the idea of meeting in his office. Turning her head and scratching the back of her neck nervously, she considered his request. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy."
He lead them the few feet back to his office. Allowing her to enter first, he closed the door behind them.
He considered skirting around the question, making idle chick chat about her hearing, but at this point being straightforward was probably the best option. "Are you alright?" his voice was gentle and sincere.
His question was once again met with her irritatingly fake, anything-but-reassuring smile. "Of course. Now if that is all, I think I'll be getting back to my work," she said, making a move to exit.
"No, that is not all," he snapped loudly, frustrated. Clearly coddling the child wouldn't get him anywhere. "Now you are not 'alright' so do stop lying to me and tell me what has caused you to become such a reclusive, paranoid witch."
The bluntness of his statement startled them both.
"I am perfectly fine, Mr. Malfoy, now I better be going."
He had positioned himself directly in front of the door. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to move aside, but he did no such thing. Instead, he bent down slightly to look her directly in the eye and gripped her upper arms. "You will tell me what is the matter."
She flinched under his touch as though he was hurting her. He hadn't been holding her tightly; there was no way he was causing her pain.
"Stop," she said tersely. "Stop acting as though you care. You don't care. Now please just let me leave."
It was true, he didn't care…shouldn't care. But somewhere along the line he had begun to care and it was because of this that he pressed on.
"You will not leave until you tell me what is going on with you."
She stepped out of his grip and glared at him. "Stop! Am I really to believe that you, an ex-Death Eater, a bloody evil Pureblood bastard cares about a filthy little Mud-blood like me?"
The vulgarity of her statement startled him, but it proved that he was finally getting somewhere.
"That's right, let me have it. Show me that you still have some fight in you. Show me that you aren't just the pathetic, empty shell that has been cooped up in her office working herself to death," he bated.
She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, resisting the urge to pull out her wand and hex his bollocks off.
"Move," she said forcefully, shaking in anger. "Move out of my way before I make you move."
He didn't budge.
She stomped her foot petulantly. "Move."
"No."
He watched as her anger disappeared and her lip began to quiver. Her eyes filled with tears and she let out a sob. She looked up at him, her eyes begging. "Please Lucius, please just let it go."
It took everything he had to resist the urge to let her go, to let her leave.
"Hermione, please. Just tell me what's going on with you, tell me why you never go home and why you flinched last night when I brought up your husband."
The tears were streaming down her face now and she refused to look him in the eye. "I…I can't. He…he…" she trailed off. "Please," she sobbed, "please…"
He finally understood. Her fear, her edginess…the pain in her shoulders. Silently he slipped his wand out of the sleeve of his robes and discreetly pointed it towards her.
"Aperio," he whispered. The glamours and charms surrounding her vanished before his eyes and he was able to see her true appearance.
He couldn't prevent the small gasp that escaped his lips as his eyes travelled over her form. The bags beneath her eyes were even worse than they had been the previous night. Her bottom lip was cut, her cheek swollen. There were hand shaped bruises decorating both her arms. His eyes skimmed the rest of her body, hidden beneath her Muggle blouse and A-line skirt, and he wondered what other horrors lay beneath.
She had heard him utter the spell, and knew that her secret was out. Embarrassed, she refused to meet his stare.
Slowly, cautiously, he made his way forwards and bent slightly, leveling himself to her height. Gently holding her chin, he forced her to look at him. Pain, sadness, fear, and embarrassment swirled within her gaze as she hiccupped another sob.
"Please," she begged once more, wishing to be anywhere but here.
"Is there more?" he questioned softly.
She nodded her head in response.
"Show me."
Nervously she brought her hand to the hem of her blouse and lifted it slowly to reveal a large purple bruise spanning the length of her ribcage. His breath hitched at the sight before him and he gripped her small hand, helping her lower her shirt back into place.
"Is that all?"
Once more, she nodded in response.
"Very well," he said simply before turning and abruptly exiting his office, leaving the young witch to collect herself.
He was livid, murderous. How dare that pathetic excuse for a wizard treat Hermione Granger; intelligent, kind, war hero, like a punching bag?
It was nearly noon, but he was quite certain her good-for-nothing husband would still be lazing around at home, as he had recently lost his job. Once outside the bounds of the Ministry, he apparated directly outside of her home. He wanted the element of surprise and therefore spent the next few minutes breaking down her intricate wards. It was quite obvious to him that she had been the one to create them, as they were clearly beyond her husband's expertise, but he was an ex-Death Eater after all, and quite skilled at breaking into other people homes.
Once inside, he listened intently for any sound of movement. All was quiet. Slowly, stealthily, he made his way down the hall before him, ears open. Coming to the large door at the very end of the hall, he heard soft snoring coming from behind it. Steadying his anger as best as possible, he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.
There, peacefully resting in the bed he assumed they shared, was Ronald Weasley.
"Get up," he bellowed.
Startled out of his slumber, the redhead instantly reached for his wand. But Lucius was quick and with a simple Expelliarmus the boy was left defenseless.
"Malfoy," Ron spat, disgusted at the sight of the older man. "What the bloody hell are you doing in my home? I'll summon the Aurors, I will."
"Stand up," Lucius stated calmly, his wand now pointed at Ron's throat.
"You'll be thrown straight back in Azkaban, you will," he said as defiantly as he could while complying with Lucius' command.
It took every ounce of his self control for Lucius not to Avada Kadavra the boy right then and there, but he had another, much more fitting fate in mind.
"Just like you should be, once your fellow Aurors find out you've been beating your wife." He watched as Ron sputtered, stunned, searching for the words to defend himself.
"So you don't deny it," Lucius said icily.
"I…I…of course…I would never…" Ron tried.
"Shut it, Weasley, nothing you say will be as convincing as the bruises covering your wife's body."
Ron's eyes grew wide at the realization that his secret was no longer a secret.
"That's right Weasley, the truth is out and you will pay for the pain you have caused. You will know the hurt she has known."
As Lucius made his way back to work, he could hear the weak boy's pleas repeated over and over in his mind.
"Please, please stop," Ron begged as Lucius gripped his upper arms tightly making sure to leave hand print bruises identical to those on Hermione.
"I've heard those words before, Weasley," he spat angrily. "And do you know where I might have heard them?"
Ron did nothing but look up fearfully, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks.
"No idea? Well then. Let me inform you," Lucius said, pushing Ron violently against the wall. "The last time I heard those words was when your wife was talking in her sleep, whimpering and crying while dreaming of you."
Ron began to shake as tears slid down his face.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Lucius hissed.
Ron stayed silent, unmoving.
"Answer me," Lucius roared.
"I…I…I'm sorry…" the young wizard stuttered between sobs.
Releasing his hold on the worthless mess before him, Lucius raised his right arm and forcefully collided his fist with Ron's mouth, splitting the boy's lip and bruising his cheek.
Without Lucius' grip to keep him standing, Ron slid down the wall, landing roughly on the ground.
"Please…" Ron pleaded once more.
Ignoring the pathetic, whimpering boy, Lucius raised his foot and swiftly kicked Ron's side. Taking a deep breath, Lucius stepped back to admire the damage he had caused…split lip, bruised cheek and arms, broken ribs. That seemed about right.
Content with his handiwork, Lucius bent forward, bringing his face down to Ron's ear.
"Now listen carefully, Mr. Weasley," he said evenly. "You are to leave and never come back. You have until your wife returns from work to gather your belongings and get out. If you so much as step within a mile of her ever again, next time we meet, you won't be so lucky as to walk away with your life. Do you understand me?"
Lucius pulled back just in time to see Ron nodding furiously.
"Good," the older wizards stated before turning to leave.
It was nearly half passed two when he re-entered the Ministry. He avoided looking through Hermione's doorway as he made his way to his office, but as he took his final steps inside, he was well aware that the young witch was on his tail.
Ignoring her presence for a moment, he rounded his desk and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes to look at her.
"He won't hurt you anymore," he assured her, their eyes locked.
Panic flashed across her face. "You…you didn't…?"
"No," he stated firmly. "I didn't kill the boy…Merlin knows he would have deserved it…but he is still alive and breathing."
"Then what…?" she questioned.
"Don't worry about it. All you need to know is that you are safe now."
He waited for her to demand to know exactly what happened, but to his surprise she simply nodded her head in understanding. They both stood silently for a moment, staring intently at one another.
Biting her lip, she took a tentative step forward and he watched as she seemed to gather up all her courage. "Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you help me? Why did you…why did you save me?"
He thought about her question for a moment. Why had he done it? Why had he helped her? It was an obvious enough question. When he figured out what had been happening to her, realized that this strong, pure girl, good to her core, who spent her whole life working to make the world a safer place for everyone was allowing herself to be broken by a worthless piece of trash, he didn't even think. He just acted on instinct and his instinct screamed help her, save her.
When he worked for the Dark Lord, he truly believed in what they were doing—honestly thought that Purebloods were above everyone else and that the world would be better off without Halfbloods and Muggleborns, but his time in Azkaban had changed him. Most people who entered the ungodly place weren't released with their sanity. Their happy thoughts were sucked out by dementors and their minds were lost. At first he couldn't understand why he wasn't going crazy, but it finally came to him. They couldn't strip him of his happy thoughts because he never had any to begin with. The only potential for happiness he had ever experienced was Draco, and even then, he had never appreciated what he had. For years he had only seen Draco as an heir, someone to continue the Malfoy name and hold up his legacy. And as he sat, waiting out his sentence, he became determined to change things, to live life not in black and white but in color.
His hope for a new, better life, was shattered upon his release. His wife was gone and his son refused to see him. He was left alone to rebuild himself and his world. He was a persuasive man, always had been, and it was easy enough to convince the Ministry of his rehabilitation, but as time wore on, he realized that the one person he wanted in his life, his son, would never forgive him. It was his fault that Draco had lost his innocence at such a young age, his fault that his son never truly got to be a child. With so much dark in the world, even now, Hermione was a source of light, and he refused to let such a bright light be snuffed out. But he wouldn't tell her that, couldn't tell her that. So instead he sat silently willing her to not press him.
Realizing he had no intention of answering her, she stood up straight, looked him dead in the eye, and whispered a quiet, but firm 'thank you' before exiting his office.
A/N: So, this is a one-shot...for now at least. I am working on a Dramione, but I want to have most of it completely written before posting anything because I refuse to post the start of a story and never finish it...again. Gotta love them Malfoys. Anyways, I know everyone is kind of out of character. It's been years since the war and in my head I have further explanations for the changes in them, but it would have seemed very out of place to start going into Hermione & Ron's history/history's. I hope you like it anyways...please let me know what you think!