CHAPTER 11

September 1st 2001

Draco Malfoy stood at the centre of his living room with his former arch nemesis, having just survived another battle that had intended to kill them. The house smelt like fire and cement, broken pieces of glass and debris lie scattered across the floor. Granger stood across from him in a pastel blue dress that showed off her creamy shoulders and led down to her ankles. She looked so soft compared to her usual hard business attire.

His father had sent hitmen to collect their heads. Draco had a sneaky suspicion as to why.

"I thought you and your father had made amends?" Granger asked angrily.

"We had," he began, "I was on probation over the last few months to prove that I was done mingling with muggle-borns. Lucius must have had people watching to keep me accountable. Someone clearly saw you come in here."

During the fight Draco had fireballs thrown at him. The adrenaline rush was coming to a low and the pain started to kick in. He scrunched his face and winced at the clawing sensation on his skin.

"What's wrong?" She questioned.

"It's nothing. I was hit a little in the hallway." He groaned through the stinging.

Granger stalked over to him and looked behind at the rear of his shirt. Draco could feel the amount of blood pouring out, the look of it must have been gruesome.

"Your shirt has burned onto your back, lay on your stomach and I will see if I can heal it." She instructed with alarm in her voice.

"You don't have to do that, I will be f-"

"Blame it on my Gryffindor heart. Get on the couch. Now."

Anxiety swelled through Draco's body. Below his shirt lay a scar that traced from the tip of his neck down to the bottom of his spine. It had been given to him by the Dark Lord several years ago after he had performed a mission that still traumatised him to this day. With a single touch at the blemish, Draco could be sent down a panic induced spiral.

He wasn't ready for her to see the symbol that revealed his secret. But Draco looked at it as this being just another brick he needed to pull off his wall. Obliging to her instructions, he lifted his top over his head slowly, hissing at the material ripping at the skin, before laying his stomach on the leathered couch. He prayed to Merlin she wouldn't touch the scar, and cursed the witch for making him expose himself both physically and mentally.

Draco's cheek was pressed against the cushion and he could see Granger kneeling at his side with her wand and a healing substance she grabbed from her handbag. Not being able to see her face, he dreaded being unaware of what she was thinking.

Goosebumps immediately formed and shivers ran down his spine as her fingertips caressed the skin on his back.

"There's a few open wounds," she whispered, "I can sew the skin back together."

"Okay." He replied gently.

Her touch was gentle as she cast silent spells over the burns. The magic twinkled against his muscles as they healed. As he lay there, Draco imagined himself in another life where he was Ron Weasley and woke up to Granger tracing circles on his back before making love to one another, causing them to be late for work. In this life, everything would be so much more simpler, and he would probably know what it feels like to know true happiness. But alas, this life was not meant to be, and he was cursed of being a Malfoy.

Draco closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment that would soon be stripped from him. He found it peculiar that he was not suffering from a panic attack yet. Typically when women put their hands near his back, his body rejected their touch and he lost control. But with Granger, it was different. She was always different.

"Does it hurt?" Granger asked.

"It is just a few burns." He replied, trying to sound tough.

"N-not the burns. The scar."

Draco snapped his eyes open and felt his heart skip a beat.

"No." Was the only reply he could muster.

"May I ask how you got it?"

"Even if I say no, you are still going to ask about it, won't you?"

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable." Her voice was as gentle as her touch.

As her fingers ran up and down his back with a cold liquid, Draco contemplated telling her the story behind his most daunting wound. He hadn't told anyone about it, not even Pansy. But Draco felt safe in her company, for some fucked up reason.

"Voldemort gave it to me." He began. "He had demanded a few of the newer recruits to practice illegal spells on magical creatures so that they had experience when they went into battle with humans. After my first shots at the house elves, I vomited outside in the garden. Their cries echoed in my ears for days, but as time went on we moved onto more. The night I accidentally killed a goblin, I tried to drown myself in the bath. Believe it or not, an elf pulled me out of the water. The next day, Voldemort sent me down to the basement to tourture Luna Lovegood when she was brought to the manor. The fear in her dopey moon eyes is burnt into my brain. I did not refuse to hurt her like a hero would, I just could not do it. I was a coward. As punishment, Voldemort tore my back open and let me bleed on the drawing room floor for everyone to see."

A weight felt like it had lifted from his shoulders, but he was scared of what she was thinking. Torturing magical creatures must be a breaking point for her. This was surely when she was going to run from this messed up friendship of theirs.

"I guess both our blood is stained on the drawing room floor of Malfoy Manor." Granger mumbled.

"Y-Yeah… I guess."

He didn't know what he expected her response to be, but that was not it.

"I think that should be it." She said, pulling her hand from his back. He missed the touch already.

Sitting up from his horizontal position, Draco had forgotten that his bare chest was on display. Pulling his shirt over his head he sat back on the leather couch. The material was still damp and sticky.

"What? No judgement for the cruel agony I inflicted on the innocent creatures?" He asked, confused by her calm behaviour.

"I do not always feel the need to judge you, Malfoy. You were 17, and we all made mistakes at 17. I snogged Cormac McGlaggen, you tortured house elves, both will haunt us for the rest of our lives." A smile cracked on her face at her own joke. He smiled back.

"Thank you." She spoke again, "For feeling like you could share a dark memory with me. I know how hard being vulnerable with other people can be for you."

"Mmmm."

Draco noticed as Granger was still kneeling below him that there was a gash across her cheek he hadn't seen earlier. Without thinking he leant forward and ran a thumb against the cut.

"Does it hurt?" He rasped.

"A little." She replied.

Their eyes flicked across from one anothers as he cupped her jaw.

Hermione Granger stared into the silver eyes of her co-worker. In this moment they looked amazingly innocent, like he had never felt sadness or vengeance over his life. His thumb rubbed her cheek with ease, hesitant to put pressure down in case it would hurt her. Here and now they didn't feel like former rivals, in fact together they felt like they didn't have to conform to the mask they had been putting on for years. But reality crept loomingly back into their minds.

Suddenly embarrassed by the intimate position they were in, both witch and wizard cleared their throats and backed away. Hermione rose from her kneeling position and turned her back on Malfoy. She twisted at the engagement ring on her left hand and walked over to her handbag that still sat on the floor near the second couch. Reaching into the charmed accessory, Hermione pulled out her gift she had purchased earlier for her friend. She turned back around with both hands clutching the Ray Charles record, Malfoy raised himself from his seat to see what she was holding.

"Happy Birthday." She awkwardly smiled.

"What is this?" He asked, creasing his eyebrows and pursing his lips.

"This," she began handing him the vinyl cover, "is your belated birthday gift. You were away in June and I did not get an opportunity to give you anything then, so here you are."

Malfoy looked over the cover and flipped it to look at the song list on the back. His finger traced every title as he read them. Seeing a photograph of a man that did not move was probably a little strange for him. In fact, now that she thought about it, what did wizarding records look like? It did not cross Hermione's mind that Malfoy had probably never heard muggle music before. Worried over what his reaction would be, she began to backtrack and explain herself.

"Pansy had told me when I ran into her, that you were a collector of records. This is an artist by the name of Ray Charles, he sings jazz and soul music. It-uh-it was something that my Dad and I used to listen to growing up. I apologise for getting you something muggle, I just-"

"It is a very thoughtful gift, Granger."

"Wh-what type of records do you, um, already own?" Hermione questioned, looking down at feet. She was confused as to why she was so nervous right now.

Malfoy walked over to the shelves that possessed all of his collection. There had to be at least 200 records lined up. Hermione wondered what type of order he kept them in. Alphabetic? Genre? Release year?

Placing his gift on top of an unknown pile, Malfoy pulled out an item from within the line up. He walked back over to her and placed it in her hands. Hermione looked down and saw that it was another Ray Charles album from an earlier time. Her eyes widened at what she was seeing, shock washing over her at the realisation that Malfoy did in fact listen to muggle music.

"I had no idea that you listened to muggle artists!" She half squawked, "I thought I was going to come out of this as the bad guy for making you try something you despise."

Malfoy chuckled deeply at her astoundment.

"You may be daring, Granger. But a bad guy is not the stereotype I would place you under. No, after my first storm out of the Malfoy house, I took it upon myself to rebel against the family restrictions of muggle influence. A deep dive into the world of music was the furthest I could get without wanting to jump in front of the Hogwarts Express."

"How diverse of you." Hermione frowned.

"I try." Malfoy teased. "Thank you for the present. It will go nicely with my collection."

The witch and wizard awkwardly smiled at each other. Hermione did not know if they were at the stage where she should hug him, but a shaking of the hands was definitely far too formal. She handed him back the album she was holding and picked up her hand bag off the floor.

"I had better get going before someone else notices that I am here and tries to kill me." She half heartedly played.

"You are welcome to take the floo if you would like. It would save peery eyes from seeing you leave through the front door." He replied.

"I shall do that, thank you."

Hermione heard crunches as she stepped on a few pieces of broken glass and rubble on the tiles making her way over to the fireplace. She felt a need to stay and help him clean up, but she knew it would be better if she left. Hermione had already overstayed her welcome.

"Granger," Malfoy called after her, "I will take care of everything with Lucius. I promise."

"This doesn't all fall on your shoulders, you know. We can stop him together."

Grabbing a handful of powder she bid him a quick goodbye before throwing in on the ground and calling to her own home. Green filled her eyes, and nausea filled her stomach. Going through floo always made Hermione a little uneasy, but feeling her feet land on the ground of her own fireplace, relief washed over her.

The first image she saw was a tree trunk of a man scampering towards the fireplace she stepped out of.

"There you are!" Ron whooped at her arrival, embracing her tightly, "I was wondering when you'd be home."

Hermione melted into familiar arms, squeezing her fiance tightly as she breathed in his scent. Being with Malfoy made her feel like she lived in a different world, and being home in this man's arms was comforting. He pulled her out of his embrace and held her face with the palms of his hands. She looked into his ocean blue eyes and longed for them to be the silver ones she just ran away from. Ron's face was covered in concern.

"What happened to ya face? Ya cut it on something." He asked, rubbing a thumb across the slice. The motion was intended to be comforting, but Hermione felt it sting as he pressed too hard and was rough with his touch.

"I-uh-I cut it at the store. I got into a fight with a girl over a dress I was fond of." She lied.

"Well did ya at least win the bloody thing?" He belly laughed.

"No actually, I'll have to go with Ginny tomorrow to find something else."

Behind Ron's shoulders someone coughed. Hermione peered around her tall ginger and saw a lanky black haired boy leaning against the door frame to the kitchen.

"Harry!" She squealed, "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Ron was on cooking duty tonight, but I think the git decided to invite us over here to get out of it." Her best friend joked.

She walked over to the glasses wearing boy and hugged him tightly. Even though the man lived with her fiance, Hermione did miss him dearly. They had grown up seeing each other everyday for seven years after all.

"Why don't I head into the kitchen and start making supper. You boys stay in the living room and play Wizard's Chess, the loser can be on the dishes." She proposed.

"You're amazing you are." Ron smiled at her from across the room. She rolled her eyes at the kiss ass and exited the room.

As Hermione pretended to walk into the kitchen, she diverted and headed towards the ensuite in the bedroom instead. Locking the door behind her, she rushed to look at her face in the mirror. The cut started at the top of her cheek and ran all the way down to just before her lip. It was open and beginning to bruise. If you looked close enough you could see blood had smeared from someone rubbing it. Whether it was Malfoy or Ron's marking she could not differentiate.

Taking out her wand she sealed the wound, and bent down into the sink cabinet, untwisted a healing cream and smeared it across the slice. Almost immediately it started to disappear to a tiny thin scar. As the adrenaline of the past few hours came to an all time low, Hermione started to feel a heavy weight upon her chest.

Sinking to the ground, she put her head into her hands and pressed her palms against her eyelids until they ached and saw stars. Too many emotions were running through her body. All in the span of one afternoon she had failed to find a dress for her own engagement ball, bumped into Pansy Parkinson intertwined with finding out her and Malfoy were having an affair, actually went to his house to give him a gift, was nearly killed for doing so and healed the same broken man's back while discovering the meaning behind his daunting scar. This was all too much.

Hermione had contemplated telling Ron and Harry for months that Lucius Malfoy had been threatening to kill her because of his own son's actions, but she felt like this was a battle she wanted to fight on her own. This wasn't a fight where she played a sidekick, this was a fight where she got to step into the full capacity of her own bravery. Her best friends had a tendency to fight with their gut and that often led them to messy situations. If Lucius Malfoy was going to go down, it was going to be because of Hermione Granger's intelligent planning.

Giving up on her pity party, Hermione stood to her feet, straightened her shoulders and headed back out to the kitchen to make dinner for her best friends. Hermione needed to get her priorities in order, and getting the wedding over and done with will be her first step. Once she and Ron were married, she was sure that all her problems would go away. Especially the problems that involved her heart getting a little fluttery from touching Malfoy's bare skin today.