Over the next few weeks Draco paid closer attention to Hermione than he previously had done in the past. It amazed him just how little contact she had with other Gryffindors. She didn't talk to Ron for obvious reasons, and tended to stick to Ginny in lessons. Luna and Neville would often join the two girls but usually the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor stayed together in their own little bubble of married bliss. Ginny went home to Harry as soon as lessons were over and he'd only seen Hermione walking around Hogsmeade once, and that had been with Remus. She sat at the end of the dining table closest to the doors of the great hall, and always ate alone.
He had witnessed a couple of Gryffindor students attempt to draw her into conversation at the beginning of term but very few tried a second time after receiving basic replies. Soon whispers made their way around Hogwarts that being a war hero had made Hermione stuck up; something which Ron was only too happy to encourage.
She never stayed in the library any more either. Before the war if somebody had asked where she was they could easily have found her in the library surrounded by piles of open books. Now, however, it was more likely she would be found in her room, having taken books from the library straight back to her bedroom.
Not that Draco was a prime example in socialising either. He too ate alone and preferred the solace of his bedroom to the more public areas of the castle. Despite McGonagall and the other professors defending him and explaining in brief words that Draco had not been acting of his own free will many students still believed he had no right to be free, let alone attending Hogwarts. The younger students feared him – no doubt egged on by stories told to them by siblings or older house mates.
Older students jeered at him as he walked past them in the corridor, trying to bait him into a wizard's duel. Slytherins with links to the Death Eaters taunted him, calling him a traitor. Blaise had taken his place as head bully in Slytherin and Pansy had only spoken to him once at the beginning of term to confront him;
"You traitor!" A high pitched voice echoed along the hallway and Draco stopped, wincing as he placed the owner of the voice. As he expected Pansy Parkinson came angrily pacing down the corridor to stand in front of him. He said nothing, knowing it was easier to simply let Pansy have her say. "How dare you spread such lies about your father? Lucius was a good man and you besmirch his memory."
She glared at him, waiting for him to defend himself. He sighed tiredly, "Pansy, if that is your definition of a good man then I fear for your future when you marry. He beat me from when I was old enough to answer back. He terrified my mother to the point of death."
"Your mother killed herself."
Draco snorted "is that what he told you? I saw it; he killed her with his bare hands. He said if she cared so much about muggles that she could die like one."
Pansy paled and shook her head, slowly backing away "you're lying" she said "you're a liar and a traitor Draco Malfoy and I will never speak to you again!"
She turned on her heel and fled, seeking out Blaise for comfort.
And Pansy had stuck to her word. Draco was no more acknowledged than Hermione was. Yet he still went outside. He walked around the grounds and, when it was permitted, he frequented Hogsmeade. He wondered if Hermione ever actually stepped outside the castle besides their herbology and care for magical creatures lessons. He certainly hadn't seen her at any Quidditch matches. But then, why would she? She had only ever gone before to cheer on Harry, and then Ron and Ginny. Ginny was no longer on the team and he figured that if she turned up at a game when Ron was playing he'd probably go rogue and send a bludger at her head.
He was certainly intrigued by her. It had been her he'd appealed to when he first approached the Order as he knew she was famed for her compassion; many a time he had found her tutoring younger students in the library, or giving them the right directions for their classrooms when Peeves sent them on a wild goose chase around the castle. She fought for equal rights for muggles and wizards, defended Remus when his condition was made public and lobbied for fairer treatment of house elves – however misguided that was – regardless of what others thought of her opinions. She was able to take any given situation with logic and was empathetic without being gullible. He knew that out of any of the Order, the person who would take him seriously and convince the others to listen to him before judging him would be her.
And she had forgiven him, although not without some difficulty, for his behaviour towards her in the past. Granted the words and actions had been his own doing but his motives had been more self preservation than genuine cruelty. She had immediately offered to help him when he'd let slip about his back and she had stuck to her word. Every day after classes she would meet him by his room and apply the cream to his back. She didn't attempt to engage him in conversation, although she did respond if he initiated it, and when she was finished she would leave immediately, calling over her shoulder that she would see him tomorrow. It was bizarre, for she never spoke to him in classes unless they were partnered, and barely acknowledged him in the hallways except for a small nod as they crossed paths. She was an enigma.
His thought process was distracted by a knock at the door. He frowned as he glanced at the clock and headed to open the door. It was nearly midnight, who would be seeking him out at this late a time? Much to his surprise, Hermione stood in the doorway looking extremely embarrassed and scratching her arm. "I need some more cream" she told him, walking past him into the room.
He frowned, "but you said your arm was better" he said, trying to think if he'd seen her itching in the last few weeks since she stopped asking him for the cream "why do you need more?"
"I just do, okay!"
She was pacing around his room agitatedly searching for a small pot she could put in her pocket. She worked her way around to his desk, where he kept his own big pot of the stuff, and reached out to open the drawer only to be stopped by him pulling her away. He wrenched her sleeve up and examined her arm "there's nothing there" he remarked, raising an eyebrow at the blank skin.
Hermione paled "just give me some cream Malfoy, it's late and this isn't exactly a social visit"
"No."
"Why not?" She demanded, turning on him. "After all I've done for you, you can't give me one small tub of cream?"
Draco sat down and shook his head "if you need it for someone else tell them to come and ask me themselves."
"It's not for someone else" she quickly shot back before biting her lip at the admission. "I just need some more. Please?"
He shook his head again and indicated the chair in front of him. She slowly sat down and watched him silently examine her.
She was pale and her eyes were bloodshot. She had bags under eyes and her skin was dry. Her hair was twice as frizzy as it normally was and she was itching at her arm even though it had been healed for nearly a week.
"You're not sleeping" he told her "and something is bothering you. You said you itch your arm when something bothers you. It's been clear and itch free and yet you show up at my door itching like you've got fleas."
Hermione shook her head "I'm fine," she said weakly "I just need some more cream."
Draco walked over to his desk and pulled out his pot of cream. "I only have this" he told her "let me put the cream on. You can have it when you come and do my back."
"No"
She started to head to the door.
"Show me your legs Granger" he said suddenly. She froze where she was. Draco could see her trembling and wondered if perhaps he had gone too far. He tried to recall where his wand was and mentally slapped himself when he remembered it was on his bed. If she chose to draw her wand on him there was no way he'd reach it in time to defend himself.
She sobbed, drawing his attention back to her. He sighed deeply and stepped around her, crouching down so he could look up at her.
"I'm right aren't I?" He asked gently.
"How did you know?" She whispered, unable to look at him.
He sighed again and sat down on the floor in front of her. "You're completely shut off from everyone. One best friend hardly sees you. The other hates you and constantly blames you for a death that wasn't your fault. You have hardly any friends and you're never with the ones you do have. You're healed and yet you want more cream but won't tell me why. Also, you're wearing trousers." She frowned at his last reason. "You always wore the skirt uniform, regardless of weather, over the trousers. The only reason I can see for wanting to wear trousers all of a sudden is that you want to hide your legs away so either they're really hair, in which case this cream wouldn't help, or they're scarred."
"Can I have the cream now?" She asked him, finally looking at him.
"Only if you show me" he replied.
Slowly she rolled up her trouser legs until they resembled shorts and closed her eyes so she couldn't watch him examine her legs. She didn't want to see the disgust he would surely register. However when she dared peek out of one eye he didn't look disgusted. He looked sad. He didn't say anything in response to the patchwork of scarring across both of her logs and merely rolled her trouser legs back down. She held her breath, waiting for some kind of remark – witty, pitying or angry she wasn't sure which it would be – but felt only a small tub being pressed into her hands.
She opened her eyes to thank him but he was staring out of his window. The view was of the night sky again, and his constellation and she felt shy all of a sudden. She wiped a stray tear from her eye and secured the cream into her pocket.
She paused just before she opened the door and looked back over her shoulder "thank you Draco" she whispered, clicking the door into place as she left, assuming he wouldn't hear her.
Inside his bedroom Draco was left once again staring at the door Hermione Granger had just left. He'd picked up on her words and had turned around to answer them, only to find his room empty. He smiled sadly and shook his head "you're welcome Granger" he whispered to himself, wearily sinking into a nearby chair to digest what had just happened.
