A/n: Thanks to my beta JDeppIsMyLovely!

Blaise was able to convince Hermione to take him upstairs to the potions lab to have a look-see at the potion she'd created before leaving that day. Draco knew that she was a bit uncomfortable doing this, that she still wasn't really sure what she would do with the invention, but nonetheless took him up there. He speculated that the Italian only got to go because he was Draco's best mate.

But this left the blonde with a bit of free time to be alone, and really that was the last thing he needed. For several minutes he sat stiffly in his bedroom, staring blindly at the floor. Solitude meant he had time to think, and since arriving, Hermione had filled the empty gaps in his days, keeping his thoughts from straying. The day she arrived there was almost a blessing for him, though she had to pick a time when he was sleeping. He remembered the experience as though it were yesterday.

"Granger? What the bloody fuck are you doing here at this hour?! I thought I said the connection was for professional use only!"

She had barely stepped out of the floo when he stood as well, obviously having been lost in a fitful sleep. The shirt he wore was adored with sweat stains, and as he drew near she could tell that he had bags beneath pale eyes. His pajama bottoms were wrinkled, and she suspected that he had been haunted by some type of nightmares before her arrival.

"This is a professional visit," she lied, ignoring the dark look in his eyes. "I've come to begin working."

He glanced at the clock. "Well, come back later- or tomorrow! It's barely three in the morning. It's too early to be conversing, or dealing with dangerous potion ingredients."

"Oh no," she said, stepping past him. "I'm quite awake and ready-"

"Is that what you call awake? Well fuck, Granger, then you must look like shit when you haven't slept. Your eyes are so red it's scary. Besides, won't sweet old Weasely miss your company? I get the feeling that you're not home much as it is."

She held back a groan at the mention of Ron. "He'll be fine," she insisted. "Now, I don't understand why you are being so difficult. If I'm willing to put more time into making your arm feel better then you should be the last one complaining."

"Depends, Granger; are you expecting to be paid for your overtime? That wasn't in the deal."

"Then don't pay me!" She spun away from him. "It's just something I want to do. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to get started." The brunette began walking, expecting another rebut on his part. When she reached the bedroom door and he hadn't uttered a word again, she threw it open and walked out, hoping she remembered where the potion's room was.

For his part, Draco just studied her as she walked away. He thought it was odd that she showed up in the same clothing, looking just a bit terrified with a giant bag on her arm, and a briefcase poking out the top. He thought it was odd that her eyes were red like she had been crying.

Mostly, he wondered about the bruised marks marring both her shoulders and the red, infected looking bite on her neck.

He'd never told her before, but her presence offered a distraction from his everyday life, and the horrors it had within. Having someone around forced him to act normal, like nothing was wrong, and to keep his composure. She was a distraction from the problems at hand, a way of coping with the shattering reality of life.

His mother's health was deteriorating just as quickly as her mind by that point, and after he became smitten with Hermione he actually began neglecting the woman who gave birth to him. He should've snuck away more from the brunette, brought her along, something, so that he would still watch his mother like a good boy. He would always remember when things began to get critical; he discovered it the day Hermione ran out after their shared kiss, her memories of a forgotten one spilling back. Amidst his regret for removing the memory he'd gone down to see his mother, unsure what else to do. It ended up being a traumatizing experience.

He opened the door, assuming that the house elves were taking good care of his mother as instructed. As the door swung open he discovered this to be a lie.

She lay on the floor twitching, the remains of a seizure causing the strange muscle movements. He was by her side in a moment, shoving the offending house elves to the side, the ones who were still failing to help her in her condition. A few feet away on the floor lay her lunch, apparently lost in the process of getting up. Her eyes were bloodshot, as though she'd been crying, and her nose bled, probably a side effect of the seizure.

Draco quickly ran analysis of her body, moving her back to the bed with a levitation spell while he snapped at the elves to clean the mess up. They scrambled to do so, bowing their heads in the presence of the young lord.

"Mother," he said, setting the woman down on the bed, her eyes staring up towards nothing. A cold compress appeared in his hand and he immediately set it on her forehead, checking her vitals with a second spell. "Mother, do you hear me?"

She stared at the ceiling, no reply escaping her lips. She never spoke, not really, and he wasn't too surprised that she didn't offer up a response. He desperately wanted to hear one as he checked her over, but it never came, and she continued to stare off at the ceiling, a blank look in her eyes.

His resolve slowly broke. Despite helping Hermione, falling for her, and handling everyday life he secretly had his parents to handle as well- specifically, his mother, who lost her sanity long ago. He was trying, but no matter what he did, how long he spoke to her, she didn't respond, didn't even seem to notice he was there. She was practically a walking corpse, stumbling around whenever she got up. It scared him.

Realizing that she was okay now, he cleaned the blood from her face, burning the handkerchief when he finished before falling to his knees beside the bed, dropping his head there. It all seemed so hopeless, and it broke his confidence. She meant more to him than anything in the world, and there was a good chance nothing could be done for her.

He was going to lose her. And Draco didn't know if he could handle that.

He hated himself, for letting her slip so far. Maybe Hermione did have a point when she spoke, when she mentioned St. Mungo's, but if he took either of his parents there then there was a possibility they would be on a permanent stay, and although he hated his father, that was the last thing he wanted. They belonged in the Manor, away from the critical eye of the public. Reports were always at that place for one reason or another, and he didn't want them becoming a news story. It would hurt not only the family name, but Draco personally. He didn't want people knowing what his family had become, what their treachery in the war cost them. He wanted the world to forever remain oblivious to the problems of the Malfoys.

Cracking his knuckles, he forced himself to get up, sauntering over to his dresser. Hermione never went through there, for she really wasn't as interested with clothes as he was, so he didn't worry about her looking here. Hoping that her trip with Blaise would take a few more minutes, he opened the second drawer and shifted the clothing around, pulling out a book. Slamming it shut he turned and leaned against the dresser, eyeing the cover briefly before he opened it.

The memories of his childhood slammed back at him tenfold, the happy times blurring together with the bad. A time when his parent's relationship was broken, but Narcissa could still love him for some reason. Now, Draco doubted that she could ever love him at all, if she was able to regain some composure and sanity that is. A time when his father was still an icon in his head, no matter his heavy hand. A time when Draco thought he wanted to grow up and be like his father, only to get older and realize he could never be what his father wanted. He didn't have the icy interior his father harbored; his insides held some warmth, compliments of his mother.

Pictures jumped out at him, the few snapshots capturing the good moments in time for him. His first broom, his first trip to France, and other such events. His father was proud of him back then for embodying the picture of a Malfoy so well. Now he was considered a shame in daddy's eyes, just as Lucius was considered a blemish on the family to Draco. They hated each other like that.

The conversation with his father he recently had jumped back at him, and he recalled all the emotion that floated around in his chest. What did he expect exactly? That his father missed him dearly and wanted to be a better person? No, never, he wasn't that foolish. Lucius wanted to see Narcissa however, and his father was very aware that he'd need Draco's approval to ever see Narcissa again. At eighteen Draco became the man of the house, a year after he became an adult in the wizarding world, and the Manor would listen to him, the wards obeying him before anyone else. Lucius did not have a chance unless he could convince his son to allow him to see his wife.

Draco was pretty sure it was a hopeless idea, but didn't want to say so outright. Now that his father knew his mother was in such a traumatic state, he wondered if his behavior would do a turn around. Would Lucius try to straighten out just to see his wife on last time before her possible demise? Maybe, but Draco wasn't sure whether he would want to see her to grieve for her, or to be angry with her. And that frightened him.

Picking up on footsteps, he quickly turned and opened the drawer once more, shoving the photo album back into its hiding spot. He moved and leaned against the wall beside it, staring out the window, and a moment later the bedroom door opened, and Hermione and Blaise stepped through.

Well, Blaise looked quite peachy, and she looked a bit drained. Suddenly concerned, he stepped forward, only to have his friend thrust his arm out. Staring down at his forearm, he realized what the man was implying.

"She gave you the potion," he said, watching his friend grin like a Cheshire cat. "And since you weren't as involved in the war, since Voldemort's influence on you wasn't as strong, it only took one dose to remove the tattoo."

"Precisely mate," he said, sauntering around the room. "I haven't felt so free in ages!"

"It's uplifting," the blonde agreed, though he couldn't force himself to throw any real happiness into his voice; he was still upset by his own thoughts. Hermione seemed to notice, and grabbed ahold of his hand. The moral support was appreciated.

"It is," Blaise agreed, ignoring how close the two were for a moment as he turned and grabbed Hermione, sweeping her up in a hug. "She's a gem Draco, she really is. Don't let her go." Setting her back beside the blonde, he grinned wider. "Maybe I should go find myself a lady now. Without the Dark Mark, I might not scare all of them away."

"Perhaps," Hermione said, glancing at Draco. Blaise was oblivious to the blonde, seemingly lost in his own fit of joy. "Do you plan to do that now?"

"Fuck yeah I do! Thank you Hermione, I honestly wasn't sure if you would let me have part of that potion or not." Winking at the pair of them, he turned and wandered towards the floo, and Draco took the opportunity to grip her hand again. "I'll stop by again sometime you guys, but don't expect me for a while!" He left without a backwards glance, exhilarated by the removal of the tattoo. A lot of people seemed to get quite excited and happy once the mark was gone.

After Blaise left, she turned to Draco, eyeing him suspiciously. "Is everything alright? You seem tense."

"It's perfectly fine."

"You could've come up with us you know. You didn't have to stay here all alone."

Draco shrugged. "It's fine Hermione, it gave me a chance to relax." Enveloping her in a hug, he hoped she didn't see through his lie.

But she did, even as he pressed her closer. Something was bothering the blonde, and he did a shitty job of hiding it. She had spent enough time with him by that point, and could tell when he was lying almost immediately. It was something she would pester him about, but not 'd give him some time to mull over whatever was going on in his head before she questioned him. Maybe then, his thoughts would be in order.

A/n: Hi-ho! Here's chapter 14, and in record time! I actually wrote this yesterday even O.o I'm on a roll! And, oh look, Blaise did get his tattoo removed. We even got to see a bit into Draco's personal thoughts :) Have anything to say about this chapter? Let me know in a review!

First set of italics copied from chapter 15 of "His and Her Bruises", Aftermath: Cheeks.

Second set of italics implied during the last part of chapter 35 Aftermath: Kiss and chapter 36 Aftermath: Paper, during the time that Hermione is away from the Manor.

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