Hermione understood it.
There wasn't much she didn't understand if it was presented to her. She was a glutton for knowledge. She understood Draco Malfoy's gruffness and mood swings. One minute he's be silent and calm the next he would be aggressive and mean. It had nothing to do with her. She was sure of that at least. He was upset but the cause of that seeping and consuming sadness and anger had nothing to do with her.
She understood when he wasn't really listening. She understood when he handled her in a rough manner. She understood when he yelled and when he was eerily quiet.
Just because she understood doesn't mean she liked it.
Bastard
He was one. He was an arrogant bastard just as much as she was a know-it-all. He was a dick who had somehow plucked up enough courage to save her, but that seemed to be the extent of it. Bravery in Slytherins was hard to find and harder to cultivate.
They had returned from their shopping trip and he had immediately excused himself to change his clothes. She guessed that his feet were half way frozen since the dress shoes he wore couldn't have done anything to help with the snow outside.
She had begun unloading the meager amount of food that they had collected. When she was finished she kept herself busy by opening their pharmacy bag and picking up her own hair dye. She had chosen a strawberry blonde color. She had always wanted to see herself with another hair color, but had never actually dyed it, dismissing the whole thing as silly and a waste of time. She was practical if nothing else and now that hair coloring fulfilled a practical need she was able to experiment with blonde.
"So how's it work?" His voice was soft as he bent to examine the box he had picked. She was mildly startled. She had begun to notice that his foot falls were decidedly soft unless he was trying to make a scene.
"Yours will be easy since your hair color is so light to begin with." Hermione placed her own box down and reached out her hand towards him in a silent demand of his product. He handed it over grudgingly and she looked over the color. He had chosen a light brown. She wondered how it would look. "I can help you apply it if you want." He seemed to shift uncomfortably at the suggestion.
Hermione ignored him and began to roll her sleeves up. She looked at her arm where the word Mudblood was starting to heal and scar. She looked away, favoring instead his face. He, however, was just as transfixed on the mark as she had been. His face contorted into a sharp frown.
"Malfoy?" He startled and met her stare.
"How does one apply it?" He asked curious. She was relieved that he didn't draw any more attention to her arm.
"I'll have to mix it and then put a layer of it all over your hair."
"You can't just drink it?" He asked with distaste. Obviously the idea of a mystery ingredient in his hair was unappealing to him.
"No, unless you want to get very sick, and even then your hair wouldn't change colors. It has to go on that way. We can do it here in the kitchen and rinse it out in the sink once it's done." She looked at him expectantly, patiently waiting for an answer.
"Fine," He agreed and then he stood there waiting for her to begin. She opened the box and took out the contents. Hermione bit her lip. She would have to say it. She didn't want to, but she was knew he wasn't going to know to do it on his own.
"While I'm mixing it you should get a chair and take off your shirt." He stiffened at her order. Then she began to feel the tension come off in waves.
"Excuse me?"
"You need to take off your shirt. This is quite messy to begin with and it's just easier that way." Her eyes didn't dare meet his.
There was a pause as if he was rolling her words over in his head, assessing them for flaws.
"I'd rather not," he replied tersely
"I'm not some pervert Malfoy. I'm not going to look at you." Hermione was becoming increasingly insulted. It was becoming a much bigger deal than it had to be. Another pause.
She finally looked up and he was looking off into space, an angry expression on his face.
"You aren't the only one with a fucking mark Granger." She tried to hide her sudden intake of breath. The dark mark. She hadn't even thought about it. Apparently it was a sensitive topic for him. He didn't want to be exposed that way.
She huffed, looked at the newly mixed dye and made up her mind.
She quickly and expertly pulled her shirt over her head and dropped to article on the floor next to her. Her eyes met his in challenge. She noticed as his lips parted in surprise before he set his expression as impassive. He went to the kitchen table and carried a chair over by the sink.
She would've smirked if she, herself, wasn't feeling so exposed. She knew he wouldn't back down from a challenge with her. The cold air of the kitchen was making her increasingly aware of her own body. His eyes seemed to avoid the newly exposed skin at all costs.
Typical she thought, but she was grateful for his apparent revulsion.
His slender fingers began to unbutton his shirt. He met her eyes the whole time. The whole time up until he pulled the shirt off and his arms were exposed. Then he looked over her shoulder. She noticed his jaw tighten. She looked, only briefly, at the mark. It slithered slowly across his forearm. The exact place her skin was scarred.
Her eyes momentarily took in the rest of his exposed torso before she shook her head. It was a bad idea to start looking at him that way and it would be very easy to. He was thin but his body still held toned muscles that were not at all unappealing for her to look at.
Handsome
After a moment of consideration she set about applying the dye. Her gloved hands coated his white locks with the gooey mixture and she made sure to get every piece. He was stiff the whole time she was touching him and let out a growl when she had informed him that he had to wait ten minutes to wash it out.
She knew better than to ask questions, but she had always been one to push her luck. Especially when it comes to gaining knowledge.
"When did you get it," She asked. She winced when her voice cracked.
"Anyone every tell you that you are annoying?" He asked in frustration. If he could become more tense than he already was she was sure it would happen then.
"You saw me get mine," She pointed out. She watched his hand clench around the arm of the chair.
"Surely Potter told you I had it."
"Harry doesn't know when you got it Draco, only when he thought you had it."
"It was a long while ago," she thought she could hear a tremble in his firm tone. "Barely a week out of fifth year."
She nodded, although he couldn't see it, she was still standing behind him.
"Does it hurt?" She had heard stories about the feelings associated with the mark, but she had never asked someone that had it. The possibility for new information astounded her.
"Now or when I got it?"
"Both," She found her voice to be more and more sure as this conversation went on.
"When I received it the pain was terrible. Now it just seems to sit there, the pain. Sometimes when he's summoning it will be unbearable, but mostly it's like an ache." He adjusted himself in his seat. "That's enough now."
She thought about pressing it, but considering his foul mood this morning in town, the fact that it was a touchy subject, and the fact that he seemed to be getting more and more antsy about his hair she let it lie.
"We can wash it out now, if you lean over the sink I can wash it out for you."
Draco grunted ineloquently in response and stood from his chair. He was much taller than her she realized suddenly. He leaned over the sink with arms placed on the edge of the counter and looked at her expectantly. The sink had the nice more modern detachable heads and she made quick work of getting the goo out of his hair. His hair was much softer than she expected. She found herself enjoying the feel of it in her hand.
Enemy
She paused at the thought. She supposed he still was. He hadn't mentioned anything about wanting to change his convictions. All he had done is save her which was wonderful, but it wasn't the same thing as changing sides.
She turned the faucet off and handed him a hand towel to dry his hair with. He took it from her quickly and left the room. She knew he couldn't stand being close to her for too long. She knew she annoyed him. She was appreciative of his sacrifice and company though.
She wondered what his plan was, or if he had one. He couldn't go home after removing her from the manor. In fact, she was sure that if he did he would be killed. It probably wouldn't be a fast death either as he had stolen one of the most wanted people in the wizarding world out from under the dark lord's most trusted family.
No he couldn't go back until the war was won by the light and if it was won by the dark then he would spend the rest of his life in hiding. She supposed that was good enough reason for his general impatience and hostility to her.
She had to accept that she had been a catalyst to a life changing event for him. She picked up her own box of hair dye and twirled one of her tangled curls around her finger. She found herself wishing her hair felt half as nice as Draco's.
