Yep, they're J.K. Rowling's. In case you forgot or anything.
As the bus dropped me off in front of the Malfoy mansion, I really couldn't believe what I was doing. I mean, here I was, Hermione Granger, sneaking out of school to go see if Draco Malfoy was all right. At his home. As in, Malfoy Manor, the dwelling place of two very well-known Death Eaters, one of whom I knew had very violent tendencies. And if he'd do that to his son... Anyway, I didn't want to think about it. For some reason, I just had to know Malfoy was okay. I couldn't explain it.
Of course, I had no clue how to get in. For once in my life, I hadn't planned that far ahead. The mansion loomed ahead of me, casting an even darker shadow in the twilight. What am I doing here? I thought to myself. I don't even know which room is his...
I knew I couldn't just go up to the front door. I mean, what was I going to say? "Hi, Mr. Death Eater, I'm that filthy Mudblood, come to save your Ferret son from your child abuse"? Hardly. Yet there I was, standing awkwardly in Malfoy's front yard with the bus long gone. Well, crap.
So I decided to at least take a walk around the grounds. Maybe in a place this large they'd have a map? Though I practically laughed at myself for even considering the thought, I still walked.
I figured the place was probably beautiful in the daylight. Though the mansion was a dark gray stone, the flowers in the surrounding gardens were quite colorful. Mrs. Malfoy's gardeners did very well with the place. While I was considering this thought and continuing in my little walk, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I froze.
Too afraid to turn around, I stood perfectly still.
"Granger?" came a confused voice from behind me. Finally, I breathed. Turning slowly, I recognized Malfoy in the dark. He looked awful. His face was all cut up; it looked as though someone had just taken a razor and slashed him. It was hard to look at him, so I just looked away soon after.
"Malfoy, I..."
"Granger, don't..."
I looked up at him again. I forced myself to look into his eyes. For the first time ever, Malfoy looked, well, human. His eyes were a light blue instead of the cold gray, and there was so much pain in there...
"Malfoy, what did he do to you?" I asked softly.
"It's nothing," he said gruffly, turning sharply away from me.
"No," I said, "that certainly isn't nothing." I gingerly grabbed his arm to turn him to face me. "Malfoy, what happened?"
"I..." he started. "Wait, what are you even doing here?" He shook his head. "You're supposed to be in school."
"Well so are you," I said, matter-of-factly.
I detected a small, sad smile on his lips. "Yeah, I suppose so." He sighed. "Still, Granger, what are you doing here?"
I didn't know what to say at first. Like I said before, I hadn't exactly planned this whole thing out. "I, well," I stammered. Then I took a deep breath. "I guess I just knew it wasn't like you to not be in school, and, well, I started thinking about what you said, with your dad getting carried away." He continued to watch me as I spoke, though his face was primarily emotionless. "And anyway, so I started thinking about what I'd do if my dad had gone too far and I just had this bad feeling, and well..." I sighed. "I guess I was worried about you," I finished, looking down.
"You know it was dangerous for you to come here, don't you?"
I didn't say anything back at first. Then I said, "Yes." I considered my words carefully before adding, "But somehow I knew you could be in danger yourself, and I had to make sure you were okay."
"I'm okay," Malfoy said softly. "He went away on business. He's not here."
I released a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. "So," I said, "the cuts. Could you not have visited a healer or something?" I knew there were more sensitive things I could have probably said, but this was Malfoy, after all. No need to get too mushy.
"Ordinarily, yes," he said, beginning to walk through the grounds. I followed. "These cuts, however, are Malfoy handiwork."
I looked at him, confused.
"In other words," he added, "they're magic. Dark magic, actually."
When I still didn't appear to completely get it, he continued.
"There's this certain type of magic they don't tend to teach in school. And when someone uses it for violent purposes, healing spells do nothing."
"Oh." I took a moment to let all of it sink in. "So will they heal at all?"
"Yes," he said, "but they'll take about as long as muggle wounds. I should be back in school by the end of next week." He sighed before smirking a bit. "At that point, I'll be able to pass them off as a flying accident."
"Are you going to tell anyone?" I asked.
"Would you?" He stopped and looked at me for a moment.
I smiled slightly. "Good point." He nodded.
I was going to ask him why Lucius had done it, but I realized the answer wasn't important. It rarely ever was.
Instead, we continued to walk the grounds for a while longer. After an hour or so, he arranged my transportation back to Hogwarts.
I knew the cuts had been more serious than Malfoy had let on. That pain I saw in his eyes was real. It wasn't just physical pain, but I tried my best not to consider exactly what Malfoy was going through. After all, considering his pain would have meant giving my own just as much consideration.
Instead, I researched. I made up some excuse to tell the librarian, and I perused the Restricted section. I found a wizarding medical text in there with Malfoy's exact injuries. What it said frightened me more than ever:
"Though this type of wound, a result of certain types of dark magic, appears relatively harmless, the effects are far from benign. The markings shown in this photo are the trademark of the most severe form of this magic, which is not to be discussed within this text due to the often extreme penalties for using it. The type of magic used often results in death, though subjects know within 24 hours of exposure how severe the effects will be."
The markings exactly matched the ones I had seen on Malfoy.
For the next few days, I was in shock. I continued as always in school, and though a few people asked why I was more quiet than usual, I attributed it to a lack of sleep. I just told them all I needed to get a bit of rest. In truth, I didn't know what I needed.
"Often results in death." Wow. Death. His father almost... But that was his father. I could scarcely believe it. I mean, surely my father would never. He couldn't. There was no potential way that my father would ever consider doing anything of the sort, and I was fully intent on this fact. It didn't matter that he had battered me, broken me, sent me and siblings to the hospital on numerous occasions, and, okay, my mother did not actually die that time he slit her wrists. Besides, surely she'd done something incredibly stupid to warrant that sort of punishment. I'd never do anything like that. Right? Suddenly I realized I wasn't so sure anymore.
A/N: Hey everyone, let me know what you think. So far I've been pretty good about being able to update almost daily, so hopefully I can keep it up. Thanks for all the reviews so far!
