"Hey!"

"The fact that I don't purposefully avoid you now, doesn't mean I'm still not royally pissed at you, Draco Malfoy," she stated and slumped down beside him on the sofa, both of them are painfully aware of their touching tights. But they didn't move away from the contact.

Draco grimaced, "But the fact that you're pissed doesn't mean you can abuse me as freely as you wish, wench," he countered and Hermione pushed at him a little, with her elbow jabbing in between his ribs that made him back away. Only by an inch – not that his proximity engrossed the eternity of her thoughts... no, definitely not.

"Don't be a baby about it. I just gave you a little smack."

"I've got triple-slapped already, I didn't need one more, thank you!" he scowled, snuffled like a toddler. He'd make a formidable duo with Teddy – Hermione thought with a gentle smile on her lips.

"Your ego didn't seem to get enough of them to transform back to mere humility," she pretended to study her nails, amused as his nose turned upward and sneered at her – without malice, but so full of himself that she was tempted to jab him yet again. "Besides, there are still issues in need of speaking," she ushered with fake superiority in her voice, mimicking the pompous arseholes of his house.

Now that piqued his interest as it seemed, even forgetting about his acting as he leaned in closer, as if they were about to discuss the darkest secrets ever known to humanity. "Tell me how you'd fixed it," he whispered.

She narrowed her eyes at him, pretending not to understand for the simple purpose of making him snap. She had enough of misery for herself in the last two weeks, of course she needed compensation!

"Don't try to sell you're an imbecile, because believe me, the entire wizarding world would laugh themselves sick when seeing this," he drawled in her ear with an eyebrow tauntingly pulled up. "Talk, Granger," he nudged.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, "If you say please, I'll consider sharing my secret."

He clicked with his tongue in dismay, "You're insufferable"

"I learnt from the best," she grinned at him victoriously.

She continued grinning even though a familiar red pillow slammed in her face. Draco was petty – she knew that, and didn't expect much more from him. That simple thought just made her triumph a lot more sweeter.

"Talk," he grumbled, "Please," he sucked in the air like the word itself would have been able to burn off his tongue.

She sighed, knowing she wouldn't be able to get away until his curiosity was satisfied. And with knowing it would cause him physical pain to say more... she really didn't have another choice. "I, at first, thought it was blood magic."

"But obviously it wasn't," he shot back, still as explosive as a bloody volcano.

"No, it wasn't," she agreed, trying to calm him with her soothing tone. Subconsciously, she looked down at her bandaged on her left forearm as it rested in her lap. The letters on her skin buzzed like insects were able to invade underneath it, fluttering against her the injuries with their tiny wings. She shuddered at the thought, "It was hatred. Layered on the object."

Looking back up at him, she had the sudden urge to smile. He was blinking down at her owlishly, the greyness of his eyes so magnificent that for a moment she believed it was made of pure, melted silver.

"Layered," he concluded intelligently, "Hatred layered on the flask."

And then, he needed to bite in his lower lip not to laugh at the impossibility of the statement. He hardly realized how that attracted her eyes, in need of tearing it away from his spectacular irises.

"Yes, layered," she repeated herself, even though she hated to do so. Her irritation with his doubts easily spotted. "It's not that easy to break, you know. It took efforts even figuring out the cause, not to mention the counter spell! Lily Potter used the same method for saving Harry – just with love," at the snuffled laugh he let out, she turned at him, her eyes trained on him. "I didn't sleep for two days, Draco," she snapped.

He shook his head, seemingly unable to believe her, his tone light and melodious as he asked, "And what that infamous spell may be?"

She smiled a wired smile, "The most frequent told to muggle children." He didn't seem to understand, "Avada Kedavra."

His complexion paled considerably and he gulped, cautious as if with just saying the spell could cause massacre. He let out a shaky breath, the wheels in his minds turning, "Avada Kedavra," he muttered after her, like the words would be mere poison. His hands trembled as his eyes narrowed to slits. "You mean to tell me... muggle use that phrase commonly?" Now the rage was easy to read from his body language as he tried not to let his control slip, exhaling slowly, counting the seconds, "So they don't have any idea how many of us, of them fell because of this ill spell, and they tell it to muggle children? What is it if not fucked?"

Hermione let her tongue roam against her lips before answering, careful not to make him lose it, fearing his quick-temper. She expected a lot of things from him, but definitely not this.

"I suspect they had heard it during the Middle Ages when the border between magic and their reality was not that... thick. So it must have just... became a flitting legend, the spell the fairy godmother used and what the gin said to Aladdin..." she told him her theory, slowly and deliberately, making sure she had all his attention. She was afraid if she said something not right, it could make him snap – even though he hadn't an idea who was Aladdin or the godmother.

"The first time I tried to use my wand, I said it. Or a different version of the spell that I heard from my mother... It was Abraca Dabra. I was actually really sad when all I managed was green mist. Until I found out what Avada Kedavra really was, I thought of it as a failure. And now I'm glad I didn't continue on trying.

Draco looked away from her, their silence only bothered by the Vindico Parea boiling in the cauldrons.

"This is just sick," he stated finally.

Hermione nodded, embarrassed by the silence. It felt strange, like it was able to tear down her eardrums. Between them it was simply abnormal – she had never felt this helpless in his presence, not when they were working on the potion, speaking or just sitting next to each other.

And that's why she decided on carrying on with the discussion.

"So, after realizing it, I needed to cast the killing curse," she continued, "I may have killed one of your forefather's soul. Or rather, a part of that remained connected to the flask. I'm sorry for that."

He shrugged, unable to look at her. He was nibbling on his lip, dabbing with his fingers, deep in thought, tense and was pushing himself against the antique sofa's armrest in the most inconvenient way and so hard, as if he wanted to escape from her presence. His pale blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, but even that didn't bother his concentration as he continued on marvelling at the tiles.

"Draco," she pleaded, not knowing how to handle his crestfallen mood. He was a lot more complicated and sensitive than he liked to show to other people – and after the war, his soft side buried a lot deeper under the indifferent mask and the sneering and venomous comments. But now, this seemed to break and throughout the cracks, leaked through his concern and fear for others. And Hermione liked that side of him, assuring her he was worthy of her worries and thoughts.

She reached out for him, gently putting her hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles on it, trying to ease him from the rigid posture.

He flinched away.

"What was that?" she asked, perked up because it was just simply a ridiculous thought that her touch caused that reaction. By now they were too comfortable for this old game. Flinching away in disgust? Hermione hardly was able to hold back a snort at the passing thought.

He froze, his knuckles squeezing on the armrest of the sofa to whitening.

"Nothing."

She tilted her head to the side, looking at him with the expression that screamed her disbelief. "You just don't go and become a statue because of nothing."

He rolled his eyes and turned to her and with that movement her hand slipping downwards and met with the soft material of the furniture. He was careful, not allowing her to reach his back. It just made her more suspicious about the real reason.

"It was nothing, Granger."

Sighing much like a mother, having enough of her children's idiocy, she lashed out.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he asked, the weird mix of surprise, fear and embarrassment evident in his voice.

Not that it had bothered Hermione. She continued on undoing his buttons on the front of his shirt, not deterred by his struggling as he tried to stop her and pin her by her wrists.

"Are about to rape me?" he asked, the words feeling strange on his tongue. He was not really afraid, no, but the suddenness of the situation shook his world and morals from the roots. Unexpected became the best word to sum up her actions.

Hermione, not in mood to be played, shook her head with her brown locks slamming in Draco's face, and with a swift motion she got hold of his shirt, and tearing it open, revealing his bare chest.

Neverminding the vast contours of his abdomen, displaying the infamous six-packs that she'd last seen in muggle magazines, or the outlines of his biceps that she knew of so well, she grabbed his shoulders – yes, they were packed with lean muscles and so broad – and turned him with the element of abruptness so that his stomach crashed with the armrest. He yelped pitifully, immediately trying to stand up and cover himself, but with Hermione straddling on the top of his butt, it was harder than expected.

"Rest for a minute," she suggested and held him down as he was struggling for breath.

Running her fingers up on his skin that was near to whiteness of the snow, she looked carefully, studying every centimetre of his skin. Her fingers ran around like crazed spiders on their web, seeking a bump, a change on his seemingly perfect skin.

It didn't take long to find it.

It was just a shade whiter that his skin tone, a scar that was hardly noticeable, only for those who looked throughoutly. With her index finger, she traced the line of it, while Draco sighed against the armrest, grumbling under his nose as he was hardly able to suppress a shiver. He knew that his secret was out now, so gave up.

However, he seemed to accept it the game over with troubling ease. As if he had expected that already.

Written there with the most elegant handwriting she had ever seen – the handwriting she had formerly problems reading – was the simple word of liar.

Her mouth opened up with realization as she scooted away, letting the deputy Head Boy gather himself as he crumpled his white shirt to a big ball, now not even interested in getting dressed. What point was in that anymore?

She had seen two of his most feared evidence of the war – the Dark Mark and his scar.

Knowing she knew was like acid had settled in his guts, his abdomen lurched with queasiness. It was so inconvenient, so devastating, and so not right. He never wanted her to ever be aware of this scar. Hell, if he would have been careful no one beside his family would ever questioned it, it was so imperceptible...

It was tough enough to see his mother's look, always so grey, so sorry and praying for his forgiveness. He didn't need one more woman to glance at him with the very same sadness settled in magnificent irises. He just couldn't and wouldn't.

But looking at her, he knew she realized the crucial part of the scar.

"It is your mother's handwriting, isn't it?" she muttered.

Draco didn't answer.

"You know... I understand," she tried again, her hand reaching for his pale shoulder to give him a reassuring squeeze. "I.. I really do, Draco!"

He shook his head, "You really don't."

And just before their skin could have touched, she pulled her hand back.

It fell back limp in her lap.

I'm sorry I wanted to put it up yesterday, but there was a storm and there went the electricity too...

Also, guys! You are amazing with all those reviews! Made my days sweeter for sure! ;D I would like to thank you for all those speculations and little ideas you mention. They give me new ideas and the next I know I have another plot point that just begging to be in the story and abracadabra plus hocus pocus I have a new chapter. (I wish this would be literally that easy.)

Take care!