Author's Note: Ok, I know this is really short and I don't really like this chapter, but it'll have to do. I'm too busy working on a short story for English to worry about this too much. In fact, I'm becoming obsessed. That's never a good sign. The next chapter will have less of the Draco and Hermione hate each other thing.
Chapter 5
Hermione didn't care about his feelings. She was beyond that now. Come to think of it, she wasn't particularly surprised or hurt by what was happening between them, she just hadn't thought it would happen so soon. It was the sudden realization that he had been toying with her that tipped her over the edge.
He turned his back to her. That made her even angrier; she was supposed to be the one who was upset, not him. Then she noticed all of the scars. Draco had had his shirt off when she had gotten there last night, and hadn't bothered to put it back on. Somehow, she had managed not to notice the scars before. They went up and down his back, as if from a whip, and while most of them were obviously old, a few looked painfully pink.
After a moment of numb shock, Hermione realized why he had turned. She had hurt him much more than he could have ever hurt her. She had had her suspicions about life at the Malfoy manor, but she had always assumed that they were wrong, born out of hatred for Lucius.
A wave of guilt washed over her. The silence in the room stretched. She reached out to touch his shoulder. He turned around; he wasn't crying or looking particularly angry. In fact, he looked completely collected, although he was also very pale, which either meant he was going to kill something, or he was going to faint. Hermione dropped her hand to her side.
"My God Draco, I had no idea. I would never have… I'm sorry."
"It isn't at all what you probably think it is. My father isn't beating me. Don't pity me, and don't feel guilty. Just leave. Now."
She saw something flicker across his face. His expression was growing colder by the second. He was distancing himself from her more than he ever had before.
"Forgive me Draco. If I had known, about your father…"
"Well you didn't. You still don't, in fact, you never could! Leave me alone. Unless of course you would like to get an idea of what my father can be like. He'll be here in a few minutes, and I don't have to save you from him. In fact, I'd rather not. I daresay it'll be kind of fun to watch it."
The heartless jerk, she heard herself thinking, how could she have let herself even wonder if she liked him?
He saw the look on her face, and knew immediately what she was thinking.
"Because I'm charming, wickedly good looking, rich, wonderful, witty, not to mention modest, and because now you'll have to go back to your old friends and pretend to hate me again? I can just picture you telling them that you never really liked me. That all I am is a nasty, conniving, little git, a walking ATM machine who likes to eat stray cats. That for a brief moment my wealth and dashing good looks turned your head, but you're back now, back to being the saintly self-righteous bookworm that we all know and loath."
"I'm leaving Malfoy. I'm sorry your father beats you, but that doesn't change the fact that you're a total bastard. Maybe I should tell Harry about 'us' and let him tear you to shreds. Then, at least, we'd be even."
With that Hermione turned and flounced out of the room. Once she was safely outside, the angry tears began rolling down her cheeks. She was, however, still calm enough to be thankful that the common room was empty.