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tw violence.
They quickly fell into what Hermione was sure would be considered a very unhealthy routine of potent calming spells, drinking and fighting in the Room of Requirement. Malfoy couldn't seem to get enough of their adventures in forgetting, and Hermione made a mental note that he may have a penchant for addictions. It was a bit difficult to justify to herself that playing around with a possible Death Eater was a worthwhile activity, so Hermione decided to start incorporating specifically Muggle time wasters in between things like experimental Euphoria Potion and whiskey mixes.
After one evening of wine and Chinese burns (which Malfoy found most entertaining, though Hermione noted he only wanted her to touch his right arm and not his left), Malfoy finally broached the more serious side of their arrangement.
"I hear you're spending some time in the Restricted Section lately," he said casually, looking at his red and stinging forearm.
Hermione pulled a face. "Pansy talks about me?" she replied, taking a guess at who might find her library habits of any interest.
"Only horrible things," Malfoy replied, looking over to her. "What are you researching?"
"Umm," Hermione said intelligently, trying to decide how to not reveal anything about horcruxes while still getting something useful out of Malfoy. "Well, I've been very unsuccessful so far, so I'm not really sure yet."
Malfoy carefully studied his hand, clenching and unclenching it. "Don't wanna talk about it?" he said, trying and failing to sound casual.
"Mm…do you wanna talk about it?" Hermione asked back. She stood up and walked over to him, crouching down beside him. "I can think of one thing I could tell you."
Malfoy looked extremely curious. "It's a secret you don't know about, I'd wager," she said quietly. "Or any Death Eater."
He froze up and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, I know it bothers you but that's not much of a secret. You don't need to hide your Mark from me, at least."
He looked quite angry. "You don't know what it's like," Malfoy hissed. Hermione decided to be patient.
"I might one day soon. You know in World War Two they tattooed the imprisoned Jews..helped to make the death machine more efficient."
Malfoy glared at her. "They didn't last time," he said.
"Oh, well, maybe not then," Hermione said plainly, getting up and walking away to try and control her anger at his lack of empathy.
"You know, you really don't know everything," Malfoy said, also looking very angry. "Despite what you may think."
"Yeah, I definitely don't know everything," Hermione replied. "Like I don't know how you think it's ok to hang out with me when you want to kill all the Muggleborns."
"I don't, you fucking bint," he spat. He put his head in his hands. "I have to help my father."
There was a short silence as Hermione considered what he said. "Right," she eventually replied softly.
"What," he said testily, looking up and challenging her to voice her disagreement. "Not a good enough reason for you?"
Hermione, tilted her head back and blinked, tears prickling at the edge of her eyes. "It's a wonderful reason," she said, looking up at the false sky. "And your mother, in that big house, with those evil people-"
"Don't fucking judge her," Malfoy said, cutting her off, standing up to point his wand at Hermione's neck.
She tilted her head down to look at him, tears spilling over with the action. "I can't help it. Your whole family built their bed on hatred, Malfoy. Your beautiful house, all the gold in your family's Gringotts account. And now it's a weight around your neck." The tears were streaming properly now, but she was too upset to be embarrassed. "And you and your mother and father want me to die for it."
He walked over to her, wand pointed directly between her eyes. "I'm not my father," he said quietly, hand shaking. Hermione had never seen anyone look so angry yet distraught. "You got that?"
She tried to reply normally, but her voice gave out and her throat choked up. "Prove it," she whispered instead.
He grabbed her right wrist and held it up in front of her. "I already did," Malfoy said pointedly. Then he dropped it and wiped her eyes.
"He has nothing left except me. Same for my mother. And I have nothing left except them. And you, and this…" Malfoy trailed off as wording what was happening aside from their Vow proved too awkward or difficult.
"And you have many, many things left. Much more than my family. So you can dial back the self-pity."
He stood up, picked up his bag, and left. Hermione remained for a while, trying to pull herself together before leaving – she didn't want anyone to see her crying. Maybe talking about things is too hard to bother with, she thought, exhausted.
Too soon after both of their emotional outbursts however, the allure of information grew too powerful. A few nights later Malfoy showed up in a truly heinous mood, destroying all Hermione's perfectly imagined pine trees with a variety of unpleasant spells.
Feeling a distinct sense of déjà vu, Hermione approached cautiously, but with her wand away in a sign of good faith. "Malfoy?" she asked hesitantly, and he looked at her, sneering so hard his whole face was screwed up.
"Having a good day?" he spat. "You could do a better job keeping your Chosen Wanker on a leash."
Hermione had no idea what he was talking about. "What did Harry do?" she asked, nonplussed. And why did you use a Rita Skeeter insult, you secret Witch Weekly reader, she thought but knew it would be smarter not to voice.
"Don't play dumb," Malfoy said, and an awkward silence followed.
"I'm sorry," Hermione started, "but I really don't kn-"
"He comes over," Malfoy interrupted to explain, obviously annoyed he had to state his problem out loud, "right when Crabbe is being a total fucking dumbass, and starts talking shit, ok? I don't need-"
"Why would that make you mad," Hermione said, but she knew the answer and was not feeling at all sympathetic to Malfoy's very stupid operational decisions. Malfoy looked at her stonily.
"Is it Harry's fault you have your top secret conversations where he can hear them?" Hermione asked, and Malfoy hexed her.
Hermione was well used to this by now though, and continued talking through the burning sensation spreading across her shoulder. "Is it Harry's fault you have no better friends to rely on than fucking Vincent Crabbe?"
This remark hurt more, Hermione could tell, because Malfoy's response was to punch her in the mouth. She fell to the ground, and grabbed her wand to Stun him. Malfoy fell over unceremoniously and Hermione took her time fetching her parchment and quill to write him a message, as his assault had caused her tongue to swell up and she was not confident in her ability to speak without sounding ridiculous.
She cast a strong Calming Charm on him before releasing the Stun and handing him her handwritten note.
You are very stupid and very lonely.
I am already drawing Harry's attention away from you.
She decided it would not be helpful to add that she was drawing Harry's attention away because he would just make matters worse and Harry had far more important things to focus on.
Hermione left Malfoy to come to his senses and wandered off to a far corner of the Room that he hadn't destroyed with slashing and fire hexes, where there was space in between the trees to clearly see the fake sky. She was working on healing her injuries when a very subdued Malfoy arrived and sat down next to her.
"Thanks," he said. Hermione sighed and reached out to place her hand on his.
"How did you come through Slytherin with so few friends you could trust," she remarked sadly. "Isn't that the appeal of the House?"
Malfoy breathed in, looking like he was tossing up the idea of reacting angrily. "I don't think you're trying to be such a bitch? So I'd like you to consider," he qualified at the start of his response, "that you hang out with Weasley."
Anger thudded in Hermione's heart at his equivocation of Crabbe with Ron, but she understood his point of view. "Ok," she said. "I'm not really hanging out with him at the moment, though," Hermione added as an afterthought.
Malfoy laughed. "Yeah, I can tell," he said, but before she could ask him how, he had gotten to his feet and was gazing up at the sky. "Let's climb this tree," he suggested, and they both climbed to near the top where they could see all of the forest he had destroyed.