It was dark in Malfoy Manor.
Draco heard a creaking noise downstairs, followed by some muffled voices. It sounded like...no. It couldn't be. Regardless, he went down to investigate.
He tiptoed down the stairs without making a sound. The voices grew louder and started to sound more and more like the impossible.
"Lucius, the boy is useless. The Dark Lord has no use for such a cowardly creature."
"My dearest sister-in-law, I'm not going to murder my own son in cold blood - Narcissa would have a fit! The boy will show his true potential."
"I am not so sure that he will ascend to the Dark Lord's expectations. The boy is weak and afraid."
"Now, Bellatrix. You are basing all of this on one example. Dumbledore is a powerful wizard - it is only natural that Draco should hesitate. It will not happen again."
"Oh but dear Lucius, it already has." She turned and looked right into Draco's eyes, hidden in the shadows. "My dear boy, why don't you join us?" Bellatrix smiled coldly. "Are you just going to stand there and let us discuss your death, boy? Like I said, spineless."
Lucius frowned. "Perhaps you are right, dear Bella. Draco," he said, turning to his son. "I have no choice. Come here." Lucius drew his wand. Draco did not respond, but a small whimper escaped his lips.
"COWARD!" Bellatrix shrieked suddenly. "COWARDLY BOY! YOU COULDN'T EVEN KILL A DYING OLD MAN? WHY, DRACO?! IS YOUR HEART TOO PURE?!" she sneered at this last word.
Severus emerged from the shadows. "Stupid. You couldn't even watch Potter worth a damn."
His mother appeared. "You are a disappointment, Draco." Dumbledore. "Heartless boy."
Potter. "Evil, stupid boy." Blaise. "We were all laughing at you, Draco."
"Horrible."
"Disappointment."
"Stupid."
"Coward."
And then, suddenly, all of Draco's worst nightmares were gone. And one more figure emerged from the shadows.
Hermione looked up at him, silent tears streaming down her face. Her left arm bled, the word etched into it finally finished. "Help me, Draco! Help!"
He reached for her, tried to help her, but Draco could not move, cowardly.
Hermione let out one final cry of anguish: pitiful and defeated.
…
Draco shot up in bed like a bullet, sweating profusely. He looked at the clock beside his bed: it read 23:39.
He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily. Merlin, I haven't had that dream in ages!
Indeed, it had been nearly six years since the rule of Voldemort. Draco's mind under the Dark Lord had been convoluted and dismal. After the war ended, he managed to push his guilt and self-loathing so far into the deepest recesses of his subconscious that they had been absent from his dreams for...well, ages.
He shook it off. Look, mate. It doesn't change what happened - feeling guilty doesn't help anyone. Doesn't help her. What's done is done: get over yourself.
There was no way he was going back to sleep, so Draco scooped up some paperwork and apparated to Hogwarts. As he walked from the specially designated Apparation zone - they had been instituted after the war: with Voldemort gone, it was safe - to his classroom, he couldn't get Hermione out of his head. Couldn't forget the circumstances by which they had met - what on Earth could have happened to Hermione Granger to make her break down like that? He turned the corner to enter his classroom when he heard someone moving in the one adjacent - the classroom that belonged to Professor Granger.
"Hello?" he said softly, and then louder: "is anyone there?"
There was no answer.
What the bloody-
"Who's there?" he yelled. There was the sound of quiet breathing.
"Lumos." he whispered. As he walked into the classroom and his wand illuminated, his looked around. There was a sofa in the back corner, and a figure sat wrapped in a blanket, utterly silent.
"Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but-"
Draco's words stopped in his throat. It was Hermione.
Broken.
x-x
Hermione turned to look at Draco, but her eye was swollen half shut, so it was difficult.
She hurt from head to toe. The pain had become almost comforting now, when she could no longer remember what it was like not to hurt. Hermione knew she must look a sight, but she hadn't had a chance to clean up yet - when Ron finally fell asleep, she apparated to the clearing, to her little nook away from planet Earth. But then Hermione remembered it's vicinity to Malfoy Manor: the last person she needed right now was Draco.
Guess the joke's on me, isn't it?
"Hello, Draco." she said calmly.
He just looked at her with a blank expression.
"Fancy meeting you here." she said again. Again Draco said nothing, just stood there with a blank expression on his face. "Sorry you had to see me like this."
And before Hermione even saw them coming, she was racked by great choking sobs, soundless tears streaming down her face. Without even thinking about it, she reached for Draco.
He snapped out of his stupor, and with a gentle smile, he hugged her from behind, nestling his chin into the hollow of her shoulder. Hermione just lay there for a while, crying.
God, she thought, this is the second time I've cried in front of him. The second time I've cried, well, since forever. Hermione had forgotten what it was like to feel. As her sobs slowed, Draco asked softly, "Hermione...what happened?"
She was silent. I can't tell him this. It's my secret, has been for years - besides, why should I tell a Death Eater like him? But Hermione knew better. She had seen the good in Draco - knew that he was no longer the cold, evil being he had been before. Perhaps he never had been that person: perhaps he had been changed, much like she had been, by Voldemort.
"Hermione." Draco said, a little more forcefully this time.
Hermione took a deep breath and replied, "Look. I can't tell you what just happened, can't tell you what happened that night in the clearing. Much like you, I have my secrets. But...Draco," she said somewhat wistfully, "I just need someone right now, need someone on my side." Hermione breathed again, in and out.
"Will you be my someone?"
Draco just nodded, and she turned to face him. He brushed the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, and summoned a towel. He tenderly patted her cheek until it was clear of blood, and, waving his wand, cleared the first bruise from her face. Hermione felt a small amount of her pain vanish, and he got to work on the rest.
Neither spoke as Draco worked, and Hermione tried to avert her eyes from his - the confusion and hurt that she was causing Draco showed up in his eyes more than anywhere else. It was a crime, tarnishing that stormy grey, like throwing paint on a Da Vinci, or burning Macbeth. Hermione instead studied his hair, shining bright in the gloomy dungeon, the perfect line of his cheekbones. She watched his brow furrow as he tried to remain emotionless in the face of this occurrence, and felt his breath on her neck as he reached to clear a bruise. She could feel Draco's eyes on her, studying her as she did him. They continued in this way for a while, this strange little dance of the eyes. Then, suddenly, Draco turned away, his back to her.
"Draco" she asked, "What's wrong?"
"Your arm." he said quickly, "It's broken. Whatever did this snapped your bone straight through - like a twig."
"Oh." she said softly, looking down at her left arm. "S'okay, that's an easy fix." She picked up her wand.
"Ferula." She winced as she felt the familiar discomfort that was her bone mending.
"See?" she said.
"All better."
x-x
Hope you like it!
