Happy Monday lovelies!
I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it up, but I am really hoping to stick to a Monday/Wednesday/Friday update schedule for FTT this month. Anyways, this chapter was going to be at the end of the last one originally, but I thought it was a bit too much all at once, so I decided to make it its own stand alone chapter.
Please, please review and let me know what you think! ;)
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
"Gently, dear," Madam Pomfrey instructed Hermione as she levitated James onto a spare bed not far from the entrance to the Infirmary. The witch was a lot calmer than when they had first walked in: they'd all been talking over each other as they tried to explain what happened, which did nothing to soothe the healer's nerves. Draco eventually managed to get out that James needed blood replenishing potions and he needed them now.
Remus had had to clamp a hand over Sirius's mouth: the moment that Draco assured the panicking Grim and werewolf that James was going to be fine, Sirius's only concern was naming Snape as James's attacker.
They shouldn't be protecting Snape for what he did—it was unforgivable—but for some reason the look in Snape's eyes was haunting Hermione.
They were hovering, watching Pomfrey's every move like predators assessing their prey; in their defense they couldn't help it as the pack bond was howling at them, demanding that they remain vigilant and by Prong's side.
Pomfrey's patience swiftly wore thin, and with a stern look, she shooed them away so that she could work in peace. The white curtain swished closed in front of their faces, and hesitantly they backed away.
Draco threw up a Muffliato, and the Marauders began to heatedly discuss things amongst themselves.
"He didn't mean to," Hermione murmured.
"I didn't mean to set off a dung bomb outside Flitwick's classroom, I still got punished for it," Sirius snarled, his entire body radiating with fury. Justifiably so, but Hermione already had another idea: well not a fully formulated idea, but right now she just wanted to stop Sirius before he went into full rampage mode.
"I'll deal with it," Hermione promised calmly, hugging herself.
"How exactly are you going to deal with it?" Remus asked with a furrowed brow, he was leaning against the metal frame of one of the beds on the other side of the aisle.
An exuberant shout interrupted their conversation, and it saved Hermione from having to explain herself. "I'm here!"
The four wix turned to face the source of the sound, and were greeted with a panting, heaving Peter. The boy cocked his head to the side, "Hermione…what's that on your dress?" Peter put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. Then it clearly struck him what the substance was, and not even a breath later the boy was on the floor, unconscious.
"Did Pete just faint?" Sirius asked.
"He sure did," Hermione sighed, waving her wand and levitating the boy onto the nearest bed. Hermione trudged over to him, and after a brief examination and a bit of spellwork she concluded that overall he was just fine. "He should wake up soon."
Hermione's shoes squeaked as she strode part of the way back over to the others, and the noise caught her attention. She cast her gaze downwards, her hair falling forward over her shoulders and all she saw was the blood coating her skin. Hermione rolled her wand between her hands for a brief moment of contemplation before she gripped it with white knuckles and flicked it at her arms—vanishing away most of James's blood. She still felt grimy and unclean.
"How did you know that counter-curse?" Remus piped up without an inch of forewarning, eyes locked directly on Draco.
Draco stiffened, and Hermione's mouth went dry. She found herself rubbing her left index finger and thumb together and she couldn't rip her eyes away the motion; anything to keep her from being involved in this conversation.
"Draco. How did you know a counter-curse to a spell that Snape created?" Remus pressed, pushing up off of the bed frame and purposefully striding over to Draco. The wizards were inches apart, and Remus's eyes were glowing amber and gold. Remus's stance was tight with suspicion, and his body wrought with curiosity.
Draco averted his gaze, his jaw tight; it took a great deal of willpower to defy your alpha, and Draco was already mentally exhausted from the stressful incident they'd just endured.
"Draco," Remus commanded, his aura grew to staggering heights, dwarfing Draco's as he demanded answers from his pack member.
Draco sharply turned back to Remus, his own eyes silver with flecks of midnight blue in them, "fine."
Draco stepped around Remus, facing Hermione, and the indignation drained out of him, "Hermione, can you do the honours?"
Hermione's head rose, and her entire body went rigid—as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.
"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows. Her entire body was itchy, as if legions of ants were crawling across her skin.
Draco closed the distance between them, and non-verbally threw up another Muffliato. He swore softly. "Love, we have to tell them something."
"Like what exactly? What exactly do you propose we tell them?" Hermione hissed, her hands were limply hanging at her sides, but the itch was becoming unbearable, so her fingers started to lightly scratch the outside of her thigh.
"The truth—or at least part of it," Draco replied, "they deserve to know something. We can't tell them how we know the counter-curse to a spell that Snape only just created. So, fuck it, I'm going to show them the only thing I can, and we can bullshit our way after that."
"Are you two finished having your little private chat?" Sirius asked vociferously.
"De-glamour the Sectumsempra scars...please," Draco begged, his eyes earnestly pleading her to go along with this mental plan.
"Draco."
"Please," Draco requested once more, gripping both of her shoulders.
Draco's hands just as quickly dropped from her person—as if her skin was scaldingly hot—and with a snap of his fingers, he dismantled the Muffliato.
"Are you sure about this?" Hermione asked reticently.
"Yes."
"Fine," Hermione relented, she rolled her shoulders back, and twisted her neck this way and that until it cracked!
"They deserve to know," Draco said, tone strengthened by cold steel, but it was softened by the bleak smile on his face.
"Once you're sure," Hermione responded.
Draco's fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt, and he let it hang open. Hermione stepped into him, and she peered up at him with anxious eyes. "I'm sure, love," Draco said, his words a susurrus that hurriedly dissipated into the air.
Draco let out a hiss through his teeth when Hermione's fingers brushed against his collar bone. "Your fingers are cold, witch."
Hermione poked his chest, and a dark scowl shrouded her features, "you want to do it yourself?"
Draco stopped whinging instantly.
Behind the pair, Sirius and Remus grew restless and uneasy. The smell of blood was still floating around them, and Hermione and Draco's peculiar behaviour only served to set them more on edge.
De-glamouring Draco's scars took far longer than she'd expected: she was already magically drained, and removing something that was meticulously woven into his magical core—without altering or undoing the other glamours—was a tedious and complex process.
Sweat gathered across her hairline, her tongue was poking out of her mouth as she concentrated, and her legs were quaking.
After what felt like a century, she completed her task, and now there was a spidery, messy web of nasty scars across Draco's chest, "I'm sorry," Hermione said, her knees buckling. Draco caught her in his arms, and hugged her to him.
"It's okay, we couldn't pretend they aren't there forever," Draco shushed her, and Hermione tried to compose herself, but the tears just rushed out. The emotional strain of the day caught up to her, and she couldn't erect a dam in time to stop the gushing waters.
He was right. It was easier to pretend the scars were non-existent when they'd been glamoured away. Hermione jerked out of Draco's grasp, gulping in air and furiously swiping away tears.
Draco cleared his throat, shrugged his shirt off—letting it drop onto the ground—and he took a couple steps towards Remus and Sirius, revealing his scarred chest.
Sirius was in front of Draco in a second flat, aghast, and staring at Draco's chest in horror. "Did...was that Snape?"
Remus was rooted in place, gobsmacked and vibrating with ire all in the same moment. It was abundantly clear that he wanted to rip whoever was responsible limb from limb; Hermione could sense it through the pack bond.
"No. It happened a long time ago, it was a mistake, and Snape was in no way responsible," Draco sighed. "It was—Snape may have created this particular iteration of the spell...but fuck. I'm not good at this." Draco crossed his arms over his chest, and just as swiftly uncrossed them—the sensation of the rough, scarred skin against his arms was a bit jarring, and he wasn't quite ready for that.
Hermione swallowed thickly, and croaked out, "it was pure luck that the spell Snape created worked in pretty much the same way...so thankfully the counter-curse that Draco knew worked."
"Wait, so—" Sirius started, but was cut off by Draco.
"No. No questions. I've showed you how I knew the counter-curse, and that's all there is to it. I'm not going into any more details," Draco said, his expression morphing into something tumultuous and grim.
Draco gave Remus and Sirius a curt nod, and then spun on his heel and headed for his shirt. Draco crouched down and scooped the it off the ground, and breath haggardly shuddered in and out of him; the memories must be playing through his mind.
"Draco," Hermione breathed.
Draco shook his head, and silently slipped back into his shirt, "not now, Hermione."
"Draco."
"I'm going for a walk, send me a Patronus if James's condition changes at all," Draco asked, his voice carefully even as he slowly articulated every syllable. Hermione wished she could see his face.
Without another word, Draco strode out of the room, buttoning his shirt as he went. Hermione's mouth parted to call out to him once more, but he disappeared through the grand Infirmary doors, his feet slapping against the ground in his haste to get away.
"Hermione? What...what happened?" Remus asked.
Hermione shifted her body so that she was facing one of the vast windows, and with a deep exhale, she gazed out at the Hogwarts expansive grounds. The window was agape, the curtains were fluttering gently, the sound of rustling trees outside encompassed her, and her eyelids drooped until the only thing she could see was a thin line of muted colour. She squeezed her eyes shut, and hugged herself. The itching was back.
Hermione whispered, "it doesn't matter...it was a lifetime ago."