Trigger warning: depictions of self-harm after page break. Please be careful! Check chapter notes at the end for details.
So sorry for the long wait. Work has been so exhausting that I haven't had enough time to write. However, if everything goes according to plan I should be uploading the next one sometime this week!
Sending hugs to all of you out there who are still waiting patiently for me to finish this story. We have a while to go yet, but the story is fully plotted!
The short walk back to their shared dorm was never-ending and uncomfortable, to say the least. At that early hour of the morning there was no one up yet but the ghosts haunting the halls. Nevertheless, they still had to make haste and hold their breaths before walking down each corridor, praying not to be found by Peeves or Mrs. Norris — especially not with Granger as Lilith. Draco still had nightmares about that fateful night in which they'd met at the Library's entrance, the stench of blood forever embedded in his memory.
After he'd lost himself to his delusions and consequently triggered Granger to lose herself in her memories, a freezing cold gnawed at Draco's heart. No matter how much the temperature in his blood rose with the sneaking around, the unrelenting pressure in his chest didn't waver.
She was not — and would never be — the same kind of woman Pansy Parkinson was. So why, then, had he reacted like that? Granger had been nothing but kind and sincere, if a little sheepish. Was he destined to ruin everything and everyone that managed to come closer to him?
Granger-Lilith strutted next to him through the corridors without even sparing a glance back. The portraits around them hummed and muttered, annoyed at 'always being awakened by that blasted boy and his cat.' The magic surrounding the pair had that distinct eeriness it always carried on the 1st of November, in Samhain: when the boundaries between the living and the dead thinned.
It couldn't come as a bigger relief when Granger finally reached the portrait to their rooms. It was short-lived, however, for his two best friends — who had been pacing around the room like mad if the trail on the carpet was any indication — suddenly flung themselves at Granger amongst a chorus of "there you are!" and "I was so worried!"
Draco had half a mind to tell them to fuck off when Granger hissed fiercely and growled at them, much like the first time they met. Stunned, both boys retreated hastily, eyeing their friend with mistrust. It was clear something was up.
"What did you do to her?" Theo asked first, his voice hard but not unkind. Draco, unsure about revealing a secret that wasn't his, simply shrugged and lied through his teeth claiming that he had no idea.
Dissatisfied with the answer, Blaise pushed forward. "Where were you? We wanted to continue the party here but we couldn't find you anywhere."
That, however, was something Draco was eager to spill. With the most genuine smile in the last hour, he exclaimed triumphantly that The Room was back, albeit not completely functional.
"So… you just what, took Lil to the room and slept there?" Blaise asked nonchalantly, quickly bringing the feline back into their conversation.
"Yes. She fell asleep and I didn't want to wake her up." Technically not a lie, but not the whole truth either.
"I see. You didn't squash her in your sleep or anything?"
Draco could always recognise his friends interrogating him. It had always been like that: none of his secrets ever stayed secret with the two of them sniffing around. One could argue that this characteristic actually made them horrible friends instead of brothers from another mother. However, the matter was infinitely more complex than that.
He had always been one to swallow his problems and hide his feelings. The need for occlumency at an early age had basically sealed his fate as a private person, and sharing his feelings was made horribly difficult by the fact he barely had any practise. Thus, his clever bastards made sure to make Draco feel like they were pressuring him, that it was their need to know what pushed them to ask barrages of questions and that he had no way to avoid them.
In reality, he needed that stubbornness. Blaise and Theo knew all of his tells like the back of their hands and thus knew that if he didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't. However, they could also identify when he needed to get everything out of his chest and knew the perfect questions to make.
Draco was desperate to tell them, to shout his throat raw and get rid of all the unpleasantness within. What could he tell them, though?
"I'm feeling twelve different kinds of fucked up because Lilith is actually Granger."
"I feel stupid because I know it's not her fault but I can't help but feel betrayed."
"I made her relive an experience with bloody Greyback and I can't live with myself after that."
So no. He just sighed, asked to be left alone and locked himself in his room. There was no other place to be safe now that the sodding chicken always let so many people through.
Once he was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the Slytherin actually debated between going to sleep again or doing some light reading to escape his living nightmares. The last volume of The Crimson Keep was supposed to be released that day and, considering the way the sunlight illuminated the room in a faint, golden hue, it wouldn't take too long for his owl to arrive.
The unpleasant feelings lingering in his heart made his head spin. To him, it was inevitable to peel his sleeve back and examine the scars littering his skin. It had been a while since the need to hurt himself rushed through his veins, but he recognised it and greeted it like an old friend. One of those childhood friends that you know is bad for you, but you still hang out with for years because it's what you're used to.
The sadness often made way for the anger. Those times, when he grabbed his wand and swiftly flicked it across his forearm, he made so many wounds he lost count. Other times, his chest would feel so empty with sorrow that it made his mind cloudy. Numb. Consequently, he'd end up staring at the blood flowing down his alabaster skin for as long as it took for him to go back to the present.
That day, even though the hollowness was there, his mind was incapable of going blank. Instead, the faces of his loved ones made him stop and notice the pain.
He counted the lines. Rather than the usual ten or twelve, there were five.
It was the flutter of fabric that woke him up afterwards. Draco was still there, laying in a barely-comfortable position. He quickly covered his injured arm, pointing his wand towards the noise only to lower it immediately.
It had been Granger — human Granger —, comfortably perched on the windowsill who had woken him up. He had to admit she looked an endearing kind of ridiculous, with her eyes wide open, a book on her lap and a sugar quill halfway towards her mouth. She was nestled amongst mountains of cushions and, by the look of the purple blanket in her other hand, was about to become a human cocoon of sorts.
"Hey, I uh —"
She blushed, guilt engraved on her face and made even more evident by her hesitation. Snapping out of his daze, Draco fixed his hair with one hand and cleared his throat before speaking.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes! I'm completely fine, why wouldn't I be?" she asked hurriedly in a high-pitched voice.
"Because, last time I checked, you lashed out at my friends and ran away to hide?"
"Oh, yes, that. Well, they left! And I — live here! So… I came in?"
He didn't know what was making Granger so nervous, but her reaction brought him back to those times in Fifth Year when his good-natured teasing provoked similar results. The fond memories made him smile, although he disguised it quickly with a smirk.
"You do realise that your room is in front of this one, yes?"
Her breath caught in her throat, making an odd choking sound she dismissed as her throat clearing. Then, her features softened, and a tiny, satisfied smirk formed in her mouth.
"It actually isn't anymore. It's Ginny's. And I haven't used it, anyway…"
Draco tutted at her response, getting up from the bed as his eyes discreetly examined her clothes. He noticed she was wearing an oversized school sweater and briefly wondered where she got it from until his eyes fell on the snake.
Got her.
"Are you wearing my clothes, Granger?" he asked, unable to hide his shit-eating grin. The scene was doing things to his groin and he did his best to push it to the back of his mind, but the startled jolt he got from her was almost better. Almost.
Her dark skin blushed comically fast and her eyes widened before she tried to get them back to normal again. To the self-controlled Granger.
"I'm so sorry I just really wanted to read this book and my transfiguration is still not very good without a wand and I didn't want to take yours so I just thought I would wear whatever you had at hand in the closet while you woke —" she looked fine from the outside, but her fast-talking betrayed her unease. As she explained, her gesticulations caused the book to close, giving Draco a glimpse of the cover. And he'd recognise that cover anywhere.
"Is that my book?"
A second passed. Then another. And then suddenly, a bright blast of purple magic blinded Draco before he saw feline Granger on the windowsill, doing her best to get out of his sweater as quickly as possible.
Seeing his chance, he rushed to get the book from the fluffy monstrosity only to find himself petrified on the spot.
Fuck's sake.
After that, with a satisfied, cheeky grin on her mouth, Granger hopped to the floor. It was through sounds and the quick glimpses of his surroundings Draco could get in his paralysed state that he figured out her plan.
Granger walked behind him so that she wouldn't be seen. Then, she transformed herself into a human and snatched the wand he had foolishly discarded on top of his bed to accio his book and the spare uniform she'd been wearing.
After a couple resizing and more transfiguration spells, Draco heard Granger giggle behind him. He was dying to turn around and see what the bloody witch was doing to his clothes, but he was doomed to let the spell run its natural course.
It felt like hours when he could finally move his toes slightly. The bindings began to loosen, so he waited until he was certain that he would be able to move every muscle. Meanwhile, he could hear his witch laying on the bed, turning pages and moving every once in a while to change her posture like she always did.
Memories came of the first time they'd spent time alone together in Fifth Year, and he was happy to let them through. Seeing her sitting or laying down in the strangest positions while she read had turned into one of his favourite pastimes.
When Draco was certain that he hadn't heard any noises coming from her general direction, he stopped pretending and chanced a look behind.
Naturally, Granger was already a step ahead of him. In a second, the spell hit him squarely in the chest and he was unable to move again. She would be so dead as soon as he went back to normal.
"I remember you being smarter than this, Malfoy," she taunted him in a singsong voice. "By the time you figure out how to get me I will already be finished with this."
TW Summary: guilty and distressed after making Hermione have the flashback with Greyback as well as conflicted with his feelings about Lilith being Hermione all along, Draco self-harms. However, this time he is able to stop much earlier than previous times, ending with less injuries.