Chapter 9: Salve

            The next afternoon, Hermione lay on her enormous four-poster bed, kicking one post with a stockinged foot. Her oldest maidservant, Mary, sat darning a petticoat by her side.

            "M'Lady…" scolded Mary gently, "If your mother saw you…"

            "Bummer" said Hermione.

            "What is this 'bummer'  m'lady?" Mary looked surprised. Her mistress' vocabulary had in the last two weeks become strange and foreign. It must be all those books Lord Granger let his daughter read. Everyone knew that ladies should only read scripture but Lord Granger was indulgent, and handed his daughter great volumes of poetry, philosophy and science.

            Hermione gave the bed post another kick. She was reflecting on her father's scolding yesterday evening. Lord Granger had severely reprimanded his daughter for her shameful outburst at Lord Camvile…

            "But father, he was a deceitful wretch!"

            "He may be but that does not give you leave to shame him in front of all our servants."

            "But father…"

            "And when will you learn, daughter, that ladies do not shout in that unladylike manner. It is most unbecoming."

            Hermione pouted.

            Her father sighed and ran his fingers through his whitening hair. It was an action so much like her future father that Hermione got a sudden strong wave of déjà vu.

            "Daughter, I cannot have you tossing all these suitors aside one after another. You must choose soon or you will be too old to marry. The Granger name will be doomed."

            "I will choose soon father," lied Hermione. "But Lord Camvile was a complete prat."

            "You see, it is such language that will get you in trouble. You must learn your place." Her father wrung his hands in distress. "I will speak to Father Lorenzo about setting you scribe work. It will be good for you to reflect on scripture for at least two hours every day."

            And that was how, that morning, Hermione had found herself in the company of Father Lorenzo laboriously copying various biblical passages her father had chosen for her to study. Of all the passages she had copied out, one stuck out in her mind… "Ephesians 5:22-24…mulieres viris suis subditae sint sicut Domino. Quoniam vir caput est mulieris sicut Christus caput est ecclesiae ipse salvator corporis sed ut ecclesia subiecta est Christo ita et mulieres viris suis in omnibus…"

            Aaaargh! The bible was obviously written by men!

            She gave her bedpost another kick. She would have to spend every morning of the next month memorizing more of such passages. Her father had told her he would test her when he and her mother returned next month from a visit to Lancashire.

            Hermione sat up in bed and Mary looked up at her in surprise over her sewing.

            "What day is this, Mary?"

            "Thursday, M'Lady."

            Thursday! This was the evening which she had agreed to meet Malfoy in the barn. But of course, Malfoy was not up to going anywhere for a while. Her father had seen fit to give him three days paid leave, and, remembering the ugly mass of bleeding cuts on his back, she hardly thought it was enough. She felt a sudden inexplicable urge to see how he was.

            Hermione put on her shoes and straightened her dress.

            "Going somewhere, M'lady?"

            "I'm going to take a walk in the gardens."

            Mary put aside her sewing but Hermione stopped her.

            "No, Mary dear. You finish your sewing, I would like some time alone to reflect on the scripture my father set me this morning."

            Mary nodded approvingly. "As you wish." She picked up her sewing as Hermione left the room.

            Hermione skipped along the increasingly familiar corridors of the huge manor. She was beginning to get the feeling that she had lived here all her life. She skipped and hummed, heading towards the inner compound and gardens. It had been a long time since she skipped anywhere. But she felt so lighthearted now that Lord Camvile had been packed off and her parents had left for a visit to Lancashire.

            Audley and Fanhope were in charge of the manor now, but Hermione wasn't afraid of them at all. She discovered that all she had to do was smile sweetly at them and they would fall over themselves to please her. If only it had been so easy for ladies to get their own way with boys back at Hogwarts…wait a minute, perhaps it had. She as she thought of Harry going all ga-ga over Cho Chang in the fifth. And Hannah Abbott only had to glance at Justin Finch Fletchley to have him panting at her heels.

            Maybe some things didn't change.

            Her footsteps brought her out into the sunshine of a late May day. In the last week, the weather had taken a turn for the better and she could now feel the promise of summer in the warm afternoon air. Some of the early summer flowers were beginning to bud in the flowerbeds and Hermione was glad to see that there were rose-bushes- they were her favourite flowers.

            She went across to the kitchens where once again the servants looked surprised and uncomfortable to see her, but she quickly went through the side door towards the herb gardens. Opening the door and stepping out into the sunshine again, she thought she would see Malfoy bent over the beds or trimming the verge like she had seen him doing the last week. But of course, there was no silver-blonde head bent over the plants today. Instead, there was only a man with brown hair whistling as he worked.

            "Hello!" she called out.

            The man looked up in surprise and immediately bowed again, "M'Lady."

            "Come here."

            He walked respectfully over, taking care not to meet her eyes.

            "Do you know where Malfoy is?" she asked, not wasting any time.

            The man scratched his head. "'E is not at work. E be at home, restin'"

            "Where does he live?"

            "I do not know. 'E follows the stream home every night. So 'e must live along'a the woods by the stream."

            "How far is it?"

            "Not too far, mistress. It cannot be seen by the eye, but that may be because the stream winds away to the right, yonder."

            "What is your name?"

            "Thomas."

            "Thank you very much Thomas. You have been of great help."

            Thomas smiled happily. "Ye speak too fair of me."

            Hermione watched him go back to work. She gazed over at the outer limits of the manor compound. What lay beyond that? She had already found her way out of the manor, the next thing to do was to find her way out of the manor grounds. The sky was a brilliant blue, and against it, she saw the tops of a woodland hill and smoke rising from chimney stacks to the left. To her right, a small stream she had not noticed before ran along the side of the manor. Tiny, brilliant lights danced on the ripples of water as the stream chugged along, telling her …follow me, follow me, follow me. She really wanted to see him.

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            Draco had lain on his front the whole of that night, his mind drifting in and out of clouds of pain. He couldn't focus on any particular thought. The pain of the initial flogging was not unlike some of the curses Lucius had used to discipline him before, but those had dissipated quickly or were magically healed by his mother. The agony of this flogging lingered on. He felt like a turtle forced to wear a shell of burning coals.

            Perhaps what hurt more than the physical wounds was the humiliation he felt at being thrown in the dirt in front of all those men. It had been a novel experience for him not to have anyone listen to him, to be at the mercy of those above him in station. The rage and shame that went through him with each crack of the whip added to his misery rising to a climax when Granger had intervened on his behalf. A mudblood! Saving him! What new lows would he have to sink to? Surely there could be nothing wore than this.

            Eventually, he had fallen into an uneasy sleep and when he next opened his eyes, it was morning.

            He was immediately aware of the pain in his back again, but was relieved to find it had lessened considerably.

It was fortunate that Malfoy couldn't see what the flogging had done to his back. The sight would probably have made him gag. Swollen, red, cuts ran diagonally across his skin from the top of his left shoulder down to the small of his back. His exposed flesh was just beginning to heal: a nasty, wet crust of yellow scab was forming over each line. In between the cuts, the trauma had caused the unbroken flesh to bruise, and it was now turning a dark purple.

Tentatively, Draco sat up on his straw bed and stretched his limbs. He felt all right, perhaps a little feverish, but all right. He contemplated putting on his shirt, but the pain in his back screamed at him not to.

There was water in a jug on his table, and he got up slowly and moved towards it. There was a rather large piece of bread and some cheese left by the men who had carried him home yesterday and he was so hungry that he ate all of it after drinking the water.

Every step hurt. At least he could walk. He was acutely aware that the only reason he was still walking was because Hermione Granger, a mudblood, had stood up to her father and Lord Camvile. She had said she had pitied his filthy condition. Pity! He, being pitied by her?

Draco cursed Lord Camvile all the foulest curses he had ever learned in his life. He recalled dimly a few words that had flown over his head while he was sprawled on the ground… "Are you calling my daughter a liar?"……. "You apologise to him, you liar!"…… "That is ENOUGH!"

Draco put his hand into his pocket, sure enough, there was his ring and a silver coin. He was surprised that Granger had been convinced that the ring was really his, she must have seen it in Hogwarts though she had never mentioned it before. He felt unsteady and sat down on his bed again.

He better take it slow. He had three days off, that he knew. The men who had carried him in had told him so. His stomach growled. Three days…so far he had always eaten his mid-day meal and dinner up at the manor, but three days of staying at home…what was he to eat? He wished he hadn't eaten the whole piece of bread the men had left for him, he should have rationed it.

Never mind, something would turn up, he thought. At least he had still had life and limb. He lay down on his front again and shivered. For the next few hours, he drifted in and out of sleep.

He didn't know how long he lay there but when he next opened his eyes properly, there was very little light coming through his windows.

He stirred in his half-awakeness and his exposed back began to hurt again. Thankfully, it felt even better than it had this morning, although it was extremely stiff. Hard scabs had grown over the wounds and made him feel like he was wearing some sort of stiff metal plate on his back.

It was then he noticed what had woken him up.

Someone was knocking on his door.

His first thought was that it was Thomas. Draco had told only him the whereabouts of his cottage. Maybe Thomas had brought food. His stomach growled again.

If only he could make his way to the door.

"A minute" he called.

The person outside was calling his name.

"Malfoy, is that you?"

Draco froze. He knew that voice well. What the hell was she doing here? He took a quick look around his cottage and felt a wave of shame. The floor was filthy- he hadn't bothered to keep it clean, his fireplace was heaped with old ash and there wasn't a single piece of furniture in the room that wasn't worn to tatters. It was bad enough having Granger see him as a peasant, it was worse to have her save him from a flogging, but what would seal his ultimate humiliation was if she saw how he actually lived now.

Hermione knocked again. "Malfoy? It's me, Hermione. Are you all right?"

There was no way out now, he knew she had already heard his voice. Reluctantly, he dragged himself to the door and threw it open.

"What're you doing here?"

Hermione let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Malfoy was all right! When he hadn't answered her knocking straight away, she had imagined the worst. She noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt and felt a little shy. She held up her lamp and it lit up his face. His expression was a mixture of resentment and nervousness.

"Come to pity me?"

It wasn't the welcome she had been expecting.

"I…" Hermione stammered as she wondered how to explain her presence. Maybe this was a terrible mistake! She had been so sure Malfoy would be glad to see her. Hadn't he all but said that they were friends last week? He had asked to see her, and asked her not to be late.

"I…"

"Cat got your tongue?"

What's wrong with me! Hermione thought. I've never been at a loss of words before, especially not with Draco Malfoy. To her horror, she found herself unreasonably nervous, her heart was pounding and she felt terribly hurt. Hurt! By Malfoy! Oh my god, she felt her hands trembling and her eyes started to smart, am I going to cry?

"I only wanted to see how you were! I was…so…worried…about you." Hermione felt her voice breaking in her throat. She made a huge effort to hold back her tears. Hermione Granger, pull yourself together. You should be angry with Malfoy, not weeping over him!

Draco was surprised. He couldn't help but notice the waver in Hermione's voice. Was she going to cry? Whatever for, the silly girl? Aaargh, women. And what was wrong with him…he felt bad about it!

"Well if you can't talk, maybe you can move. Come in," he said gruffly, turning around and exposing his back to her.

Hermione gasped. "Your back! Oh merlin!"

Draco flinched, feeling her horrified gaze on his back. He ignored her and sat himself down on the bed.

"Welcome to my palace," he said dryly, staring at her. He expected her to laugh at him, or start pointing out how wretched his home was compared with what she had. Lucius had always encouraged such behaviour in him.

But Hermione did nothing of that sort. She didn't even seem to hear what he had said. She was busy unpacking something from a basket she had brought and slammed something onto the table.

"Well Granger, have you lost your voice or something? Aren't you going to pity me? Poor, beaten up, sniveling peasant, living in a pig sty…"

The look Hermione gave him when she turned round shut him up completely. If he thought she looked weak and tearful at the doorstep, she looked enraged now.

"How could they do that to you!" she cried.

"Huh?"

"It was awful… they all just listened to that bloody twit Camvile and he didn't even apologise to you!" her eyes flashed angrily.

"Granger…" Draco was at a loss for words now.

"And your back….oh sweet merlin, your back. I thought it looked bad yesterday, but I had no idea…the unfairness of it! Thank goodness I brought this." She turned around and handed him a small bottle.

"What's this?"

"Salve. For your back. I'm sorry I only brought a tiny bit… if I had known what your injuries were like, I would have brought more."

"You brought me salve?!"

Hermione was taking her cloak off. Underneath, she was wearing her grey silk dress. Draco recognized it from before, he had memorized everything about their meeting in the barn last week. These old-fashioned gowns suited Hermione. They emphasized her womanly figure without making her look tarty - an accomplishment of good taste that Pansy and Millicent never seemed able to acquire.

She slammed her fist on the table again and turned to face him. Her lips were set in a thin line and she looked very upset. "The bastards….all of them…."

He saw her breathe deeply, overcome with anger. Once again, he was acutely aware that he owed her big time for her intervention: she was not obliged to help him in any way, but she had stuck her neck out for him. And furthermore, he know realized that he was wrong in thinking she was going to lord it over his humble position.

Great.

In the next few moments, he would sink to even lower depths than he had ever imagined he would sink to before: First, he would have to thank smartypants Granger for saving his ass. Second, he would have to apologise for being such an idiot at the door. Well, he'd better get on with it now.

"Calm down, Granger," he said, meeting her eyes, "It could have been much worse. Now, I'm going to say something to you that I've never said before and if I don't do it now, I might change my mind. So…. thankyouforsavingmyassyesterdayandsorryiwassuchanjerkatthedoorjustnow."

Hermione grinned. "Could you say that again Malfoy? Don't think I caught the 'such a jerk' bit too well."

"Don't push it."

"Well, after that lovely welcome…" she turned and took out some bread from her basket, "…how about some food?"

"You brought food?!" Lucky for him, Hermione Granger was the smartest witch in Hogwarts. "Where're your parents? Won't you get caught?"

"Not likely. Lord and Lady Granger are in Lancashire for two whole months. And don't worry, I won't get caught. I'm used to sneaking around with Harry and Ron. We did it all the time in Hogwarts."

 "Miss Granger." Draco said, "This food wins you one million points for Gryffindor."

She handed Draco the bread and watched him eat.

"Was your father angry with you? I thought he might be…with the way you slagged off Camshit yesterday."

Hermione tossed her hair, and Draco was again mesmerized by the glow of her lamp on her skin. "I got lines," Hermione said sulkily, "I have to copy and memorize passages from the bible for two hours every morning with Father Lorenzo."

"You got off easy" Draco spoke through a mouthful of food, "You'd better not try all that SPEW stuff here. People'll think you're weird. Just leave us lower classes to our own cess-pit."

"Yes but it was so unfair."

"Granger….take it from me. You will never be able to change anything….I am a peasant. You are a Lady. To Lord Granger and Lord Camgit, I am worth less than a hair on a monkey's arse."

Hermione giggled. She never, ever thought she'd hear Draco "I'm-so-great-and-I-live-in-a-mansion" Malfoy compare himself to hair on a monkey's arse.

"Stop giggling. I meant that figuratively."

There was a companionable silence as they sat there together. How odd…she felt like she had been friends with him for years…not just a few days. Who would have thought that there was a good side to Malfoy- he was gentlemanly, clever, and tougher than she ever expected. And in spite of herself, she found herself enjoying his company…

As their eyes met, she held his gaze a moment too long than she intended to. It was like he could see straight through her. He had caught her out…No, no, no, this can't be happening to me. Hermione flushed deep red and got to her feet hastily.

"It's getting late," she said. Hermione, how could you let this happen to you! You've gone and done it now…stop it this instant…The rapid beating of her heart, the hotness she felt running through her, the electricity she felt between her and Malfoy….her body defied her rationalizing. Stop it, stop it Hermione. Get away from here, you know quite well what is happening to you, why you crave his company, bring him salve and food… "I'd better go. Goodness, where's my cloak…" she bumped into a chair and knocked over the jug of water at the same time.

Draco's heart was hammering in his ribs. Something had happened. Something huge. He felt like he was all over the place. Come on Draco, move, say something…he willed himself to but all he could do was sit there paralysed with nervousness. It had all happened so fast, in one tremendous moment. It was too much to deal with for both of them and she knew it too… that was why she was leaving, frightened, upset…and he was frozen to the spot like a stupid statue….

"Oh and here's the basket. I'll leave this cheese and these apples…" Hermione unpacked everything rapidly and fled towards the door.

He watched her pause in the doorway and turn round to face him. The summer light was fading and he could hardly make out her figure in the doorway. It seemed like she wanted to speak as well, but the words never came.

Seal this moment, Draco. Tell her not to be scared, that you felt it too and that it's ok…

Then she was gone.

Draco sat in the growing darkness for a long time, trapped in a cage of conflict. Furious at his own muteness and yet, relieved that nothing had actually been said.

How could this be possible? She was a living insult to his pureblood beliefs- an unworthy, muggle-born, upstart. But oddly enough, those very things that fuelled his contempt of her had resulted in an almost unhealthy obsession with her. He had watched her more and more often, telling himself he was watching her for faults and flaws...but he hadn't found flaws. All he had found in the last year was increasing pleasure in watching chestnut hair and brown eyes.

If it had been hard to deny his feelings back in Hogwarts, it was well nigh impossible here- what with Granger thrust into his company, sticking her neck out for him, taking risks to bring him food, looking at him in that way… Could it be his past beliefs didn't matter to him anymore? Was he going to finally have to admit to himself the truth about how he felt? Would that even be so bad?

Slowly, Draco lay down on his front, the bottle of salve in his hand. He realized he couldn't reach his back to apply it properly. He fell asleep imagining gentle, cool hands rubbing the salve into his wounds, soothing his burning skin,  healing…