She hurt, everywhere. Even thinking about moving hurt, but the crusty feeling of dried blood and the stench of sweat and fear in her clothes and hair dictated that a shower was a necessity, not a luxury. Grace balled up her fist in preparation to sitting up, and felt something crinkle in her hand. Gingerly she sat up, and after picking away the trail of blood sealing her eyes shut, she opened her fist.
The bit of paper that Malfoy had given her had survived her reintroduction to life at Number 4, though it looked rather worse for the wear. She uncrumpled it, and blinked in surprise. Written in an untidy scrawl amazingly similar to her own was an address and a two word message: Write me. Her immediate reaction, had she been anything other than bloody, battered and bruised, would have been to throw it away. As things were, the quiet reaffirmation of their truce was as much comfort as a hug from Sirius would have been.
Grace refolded the paper, and tucked it into the nightstand drawer. Stiffly, she stood up and only just managed to stifle a scream down to a pained whimper when she put too much weight on her now injured ankle. It was a long, slow hobble to the bathroom, made all the more difficult by the fact that she had to pass Dudley's room. He had his television going; from the muffled sound of gunfire, she guessed he was playing a game.
Closing the bathroom door with a gentle click, she was greeted by her reflection in the mirror.
The entire left side of her face was a nauseating pattern of green, yellow, and purple bruises, the purple only the faintest tinge along the outer edges. For a brief moment, she wished for access to makeup and the skill to use it effectively, but the thought passed as she started to inspect the rest of the damage.
There was in addition to the bruising, a fair sized gash across her forehead, cleanly bisecting her existing scar. Bits of dried blood still clung to her eyelashes, and when she gently tested her teeth with her tongue, it felt like there were several that were loose. With a muffled sound of disgust, she turned away from the mirror and started the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, she extracted herself from the blissfully hot stream of water and toweled off. It was only as she was wrapping her hair up in the towel that Grace realized that she'd neglected to grab a clean set of clothes, or even a bathrobe. Mentally berating herself for this massive oversight, she scrubbed her hair mostly dry and wrapped the towel as firmly around herself as she could get it. Praying that Dudley had gone to sleep, she slipped out of the bathroom.
Grace shrank back against the door almost immediately, as her aunt was standing in Dudley's open door. Petunia's bony frame only partially blocked the light streaming into the hallway, voice barely audible above the pause music on whatever game it was her cousin had been playing. Terrified, Grace's eyes jumped from the scene in front of her to the partially open door of her room. Glancing back at her aunt before making her decision, Grace saw Petunia's fingers, which were braced casually against Dudley's door frame, giving her the international sign for "go".
Without another second's hesitation, Grace skittered down the hall as fast as she could, sending a grateful prayer to whatever gods had deigned give her Aunt Petunia at that moment. Slipping into her room, she closed the door as softly as she could and yanked on a clean set of pajamas.
She was woken the next morning to the sound of her uncle's car door slamming shut and the engine revving as the vehicle pulled out of the drive. She got up and changed into jeans and a tee shirt, and during the hunt for a clean pair of socks was interrupted by Dudley.
"Well now. Seeing as how they've gone and left us alone, I do believe its time for me to pick up where I left off," Dudley said calmly, leaning against her doorframe. Grace didn't respond, just kept hunting through her dresser drawers.
Dudley oozed into the room, crowding into her space. He put his hands on either side of her, sliding them down to fit on the upper curve of her hips. Grace suppressed the shaking as best she could, and kept looking for socks. It was harder to keep up the pretense as he pressed his face against her neck and inhaled, slipping his thumbs under the hem of her shirt. She closed her eyes and fought to ignore the sensation of large hands sliding up her back, pushing her shirt out of the way, fought to keep the tears that were welling up behind her eyelids from falling. They would do her no good.
There was a thick buzzing noise building in her head, the kind that presaged a spectacular loss of control. The kind that would get her expelled. The tears started their slow, inexorable slide down her face; she couldn't fight both her gift and her cousin at the same time. Absolutely amazed with herself at the decision she was making, Grace banked the power that was building, pressed it down until the buzzing noise was less an angry hive of bees and more static. The amount of concentration it took was almost enough to distance her from what Dudley was doing. Almost.
The pressure built again as he pulled her away from the dresser and back towards the bed. It was only the thought that in another few weeks, if she could keep this under control, she'd be going back to school and would never have to come here again that kept her from letting her temper take its course. Just another few weeks, she thought, focusing back in on her gift. She wouldn't get expelled, not for this. Things would only be worse for her if she ended up banned from school. With that thought on the forefront of her mind, she let Dudley have his way. Just this once.