Welcome to this week's update. (Which was meant to be posted in two days. I assume you don't mind.) Nice to see you. Please, PLEASE, read the below warning.

Warning: Depicted in this chapter is self-harm and suicidal thoughts. It centres around Draco attempting to cut the out the Dark Mark. If you would like to skip this scene, it is the very last scene. I'm not typing out a warning mid chapter because it looks tacky, but it's the scene that starts in Draco's room at the end of the chapter. There will be a bottom note with what you need to know without going into detail. This is my only trigger, so if there are errors, I apologize. It was agonizing to write.

Hermione liked the mornings before everyone else stirred the best. Usually, Hannah and Michael at least pretended to not completely loathe Malfoy's presence, and it did make for quiet mornings. With their charges still tucked away in bed, not due to wake for another forty-five minutes, Hermione sat on the island in the kitchen.

Balancing a slice of buttered toast precariously on her knee, she tipped her bottle of water to her lips.

"Merlin, do you even own a brush?" Malfoy asked behind her, stretching his arms high over his head and leaning backward. His shirt rose, exposing the hard lines of his abdomen, and she wasn't looking.

That would have been foolish. "Might I interest you in a new insult?" she muttered and bit into her toast.

Michael was leaning against the cupboard, the pot of coffee steaming behind him while he held his mug tightly in his grip. Hannah stood across from him, rubbing her eyes as the tea kettle whistled.

"I didn't want to be up this early." Hannah groaned, dragging her fingers through her hair. "Isobel had a nightmare last night."

The group fell silent.

It was Malfoy who tentatively spoke, his eyes widened just enough for Hermione to notice. "Did she say anything?"

Hannah shook her head, and they noticed the dark rings under her eyes for the first time. "No, she didn't say anything, but," she trailed off, shaking her head as her eyes watered, "she was screaming. Leanne put a silencing charm up as soon as it started."

Hermione's mouth snapped shut before she could ask how they hadn't heard. A silencing charm made sense. "What else?"

Hannah shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Her screams...I'm certain screaming hurt her more than she let on. Isobel wouldn't say a word to us. All she would do is shake her head, and lean on us. But she screamed until her throat was raw. I'm worried it left lasting damage on her vocal cords."

Nodding, Hermione clasped her hands in her lap. "I'll take her to see Madam Pomfrey today. They're still rebuilding, but she let us know at the beginning of the summer that the hospital wing would be well enough if we had an emergency." She fell silent. "Forgive me, I'm overstepping. Hannah, would you mind taking her? You're her counsellor after all, and she would feel more comfortable with you."

Hannah nodded with a smile, her eyes brightening.

Malfoy knocked his elbow against hers. "Good move, Granger." he murmured before swiping the last half of her toast.

She sighed, not bothering to fuel his antics. Besides, she liked them a bit more than she cared to let on. Since the storm, Malfoy was staggeringly different, and she was not the only one to notice. In the beginning, he had made it clear he wasn't going out of his way for the summer, but she was certain he was starting to enjoy it just as much as her.

It helped that he was playful in his demeanour, joking and insulting her — and everyone else — with no real malice. It was too much to hope that he might become friends with Michael or Leanne, but it was a start.

As always, the topic of what they planned to do for the day cropped up, and as always, Malfoy took the chance to make a dig at her.

"Don't let Granger pick. She'll lead everyone into a disaster." he quipped, taking the cup of tea Hannah handed to him. "And none of that educational shite this week. They're children; they have an entire term to learn after this summer."

She thought it might have been the most he'd ever said to her at once. Hermione bristled at his tone, narrowing her eyes. "Who asked you?"

Michael cleared his throat. "I wouldn't normally agree with him, but they're getting antsy. They want to do something fun."

Hermione decided to not explain why they should still finish what they had started with searching for ingredients for a healing salve. She could admit it was still a bit boring. "What did you have in mind?"

Malfoy said simply, "Quidditch," while blowing gently on his tea. "Don't give me that look. We won't go over the lake this time."

"Play quidditch if you like," Hermione flippantly replied, waving her hand. Even if she did think the sport was overly barbaric, she wouldn't stop them from playing. It would just mean a careful layering of charms to protect the younger years. "That doesn't bother me."

Michael nodded.

And then Malfoy shook his head, blond strands dishevelled as he did so. "No. You need to participate."

"That's a hard fuck no, Malfoy." she insisted, her voice borderline with a growl. "I'm not getting back on a broom."

"Is it really different than a dragon?" Michael asked in an attempt to sway her.

She glared. "Yes, Michael, there is definitely a difference."

"Look." Malfoy interjected, "for one reason or another, all of the children like you. If you don't participate, they're less likely to. Don't you remember that Henry and Adelaide only got in the air because of you?"

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "That's a complete guilt trip."

Malfoy shrugged. "I'm right, you know."

She gritted her teeth, looking to either of their fellow peers to help her out. Nothing. Not even a spared glance. Well, she could see where their loyalties were. "We're not splitting teams off into houses."

"That wouldn't make any sense," Michael said, exchanging a look with the man to his right. "There aren't enough kids in each house anyway."

"I know that." Hermione snapped, her cheeks darkening. "I just meant —"

Malfoy chuckled. "We know. Not to fear, we will promote the excellent image of house unity. Except for Smith. I want her on the opposing team so I can knock her out of the sky."

"Malfoy," Hermione gaped.

To which he offered a wink. "What? Don't you think she'll be doing the same even if she's on my team? At the very least I want points for it."

There was still a not so minor problem for Hermione. "I can't fly. It's not a skill I have. Whatever team I was on would just be slowed down with me and —"

Malfoy grinned as he brought his cup away from his mouth. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that if I were you."

Wonderful as she may be, Hermione was going to strangle Lisa in her sleep if she did not stop laughing. They sat at the edge of Hermione's bed with Lisa just a hair away from slipping off of the bed and plummeting into the floor.

"Okay," Lisa breathed, wiping her eyes, "run this by me again?"

"Malfoy is teaching me how to fly." Hermione bit out.

Lisa fell into giggles again. "Oh, Hermione, if you could see the look on your face right now. It's priceless."

"This is ridiculous. I don't need flying lessons!"

"Didn't you say you couldn't fly? That sounds like something that one would say if they needed flying lessons." Lisa replied, crossing her legs and bracing her hands against the blanket. "What's so bad about Draco teaching you to fly? Hasn't he already proved he's not evil?"

Hermione spluttered. "That's not — I don't think Malfoy is evil."

"I'd hope not considering he saved your arse two days ago. Which," Lisa hedged, a bright look on her face, "you still haven't told me why the door was locked with Padma and I got there."

She could feel her face quickly heating up, no doubt making it look like more than it was. "Nothing happened. It was too dangerous to make our way back through the storm. I cast locking charms when the door kept opening. The wind nearly tore it off the hinges."

It was a believable lie, but Lisa shook her head. "That was some impressive spellwork then. You mean to tell me you were worried about the wind using Alohomora?"

"Alright," Hermione sighed. "I was embarrassed and neither of us wanted to be caught like that."

Lisa's eyebrows shot up. "Caught like how? Exactly what did you get up to?"

She flushed. "Don't make it sound like that. Malfoy and I don't like each other that way."

"Which way?"

Hermione snapped, "I don't know. Pick one. I was soaked from the rain. He told me to strip, and he told me if I didn't take my clothes off, he would."

Lisa gaped at her, her eyes widening impossibly large. "This is better than Christmas." She whispered. "That's quite...well, I was mostly teasing you. Did you," her voice dropped dramatically, feigning theatrics, "use body heat to stay warm?"

Hermione refused to say anything. Which apparently said everything for her. "Stop." She whispered, eyes wide as Lisa sniggered. "It's not like that!"

"Isn't it though? How does he look under those clothes? He was the Slytherin Seeker, you know. He must be fit."

He was, Hermione knew. She could vividly recall the sharp contours of his stomach, the well defined 'V' leading into his underwear, and she'd really have preferred that the memory didn't affect her so. "You would be correct." Hermione offered, her voice strained.

"Did you see his…."

Hermione blinked.

Lisa tried again. "You know…"

"You need to be clearer," Hermione said, her nose twitching as she stared, still confused.

Lisa sighed heavily, her hair brushing her knees as she leaned forward and pinched the bridge of her nose. "His dick, Hermione. I'm asking you if you saw his dick," she said flatly.

She was certain she flushed bright red from head to toe. "I—" Hermione sputtered. "—That's hardly appropriate!"

"From that reaction, I think you saw it. Merlin, sign me up for the next storm."

Hermione's heartbeat was loud between her ears. "I didn't see it," she said finally. Her face was hot enough to cook an egg on, but she was bound and determined to be sure Lisa didn't believe she'd seen Malfoy's dick. She absolutely hadn't. But… "I felt it," Hermione muttered.

Lisa's shriek must have been heard through the entire camp, considering someone rapped on the door immediately after. "We're fine. Go away!" Lisa shouted. "Tell me everything right now." She hissed.

"First of all, I kept my knickers on. Malfoy stayed in his underwear as well. However, we fell asleep sometime early in the morning hours, and when I woke up...I was pressed against him, and I felt it."

Lisa appeared to be seconds from bursting. "Oh, Gods." Her grin was wicked and promised nothing good would come of it. "Does he realise?"

Hermione shook her head. "I tried moving away when I woke, but he pulled me back into him. He was quite handsy, honestly." Not in the groping sense; he'd been well in control of himself even fast asleep. She couldn't forget the feel of his hand mistakenly brushing her hips, or his bicep against her chest as he held her close. "It's funny considering he told me the night before, 'It's not as if I want to cuddle you either, Granger,'" her imitation of his deep voice was horrendous.

Lisa wouldn't stop laughing. "So, he cuddles. Who would have thought?"

She shrugged. "He's absolutely a cuddler, and I'm thrilled he doesn't know that I know. When I couldn't get away, I had no choice but to lay there unless I wanted to wake him. He stirred eventually though, and I just pretended to be asleep while he untangled himself."

"Let me be perfectly clear, this is a terrible idea," Hermione muttered, picking at her lunch while Malfoy waited patiently. "I shouldn't be on a broom, much less in a quidditch match."

He smirked. "You'll be fine. If you fall, one of us will catch you."

She scowled. "Or," she said, "I could just not fall at all, and the best way to do that is to stay on the bloody ground."

"Language, Miss Granger," Henry sang, bouncing in his seat. "Would you hurry up? We've been waiting all day to watch your flying lesson."

Hermione shot a look to Malfoy. "You told them they could watch us?" She seethed. "Malfoy —"

He put his hands up. "Think of it as a bonding exercise."

"I don't want to bond with you." Hermione snapped, watching Henry wriggle in his seat from the corner of her eye. "I'm going to embarrass myself."

He leaned on the table, bracing his palms on the wood in front of her. Malfoy nodded, and his hair fell into his face with the motion. "You probably will, but it's free entertainment."

"Arse."

Hermione could summon a broom. It wasn't like this was her first flying lesson after all, but the problem was everything that came after. Such as, but not limited to, actually mounting the broom.

"Fuck!" Hermione yelped as she fell again. From her vantage point, she could see Henry begrudgingly handing a sickle to Olivia. The younger Gryffindor looked like the cat who got the cream. "I give up!"

Malfoy doubled over, still sniggering as he stared at her. "Granger, you do realise that you've only managed to mount the broom three times, right?"

If only looks could kill.

Hermione glared, climbing to her feet and brushing dirt from her jeans. "I'm well aware of that and the fact that I've fallen off every single time, you incorrigible prat."

He held his hand out, summoning the broom into it and held it in front of him. "Half of your problem is that you're acting scared."

Looking to the group of children that were watching her, she murmured quietly, "I am scared."

Grey eyes softened behind the fringe of blond hair which had fallen into his face. "In the grand scheme of things, how is a broom any more frightening than everything else you've done?"

Admittedly, he did have a point. "I always know I'm going to fall."

"Or you fall because you think you're going to fall," he said. "Think about it. If you're so sure you're going to fall, you're more likely to overcorrect yourself and then you'll eat dirt."

Hermione looked at her feet for two long seconds before sighing and snatching the broom out his hand. "Alright."

She did fall again, a few more times actually, but on the fifth try, Hermione managed to make a short lap around the clearing. Still, it wasn't enough to feel comfortable fifty feet in the air.

"You're doing it wrong," Malfoy called out. "You're holding the broom wrong, and your form is atrocious."

Her head fell forward, and she wished more than anything that he wasn't fast enough to jump out of the way if she flew straight at him. "Then teach me," she yelled.

It was a comment she regretted. Teaching her the proper form required close contact, and due to a memory of a cabin, Hermione found herself blushing without a good reason.

"Put your hands here," he muttered. Malfoy grabbed her hands while she was hovering three feet off of the ground, placing them correctly and he curled her fingers around the broomstick. "Lean forward like so," His palm was heavy against the small of her back as he urged her forward.

Unfortunately, every single child, particularly the females, were watching them with renewed interest.

"Malfoy —" Hermione began, but was cut off by a booming voice.

Michael's voice startled her, causing her to jump, and she topped right off of her broom. Ravenclaw's counsellor stormed toward them, his face flushed and his jaw clenched. "Where is he?" Michael snarled.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked quickly, springing to her feet and taking a quick, sideways step in front of Malfoy. "Where is who?"

Leanne, Lisa, and Hannah were running toward them. There was no mistaking the distraught look on Lisa's face, or the tears that were streaked down her cheeks. And her heart sank in her chest.

"Out of the way," Michael told her, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her out of the way.

"Watch yourself, Corner." The man behind her snapped, catching her by the bend in her elbow, and steadying her. "Whatever it is you think I've done —"

"Enough with the false niceties, Malfoy. We might have given you a chance, but we all knew it was only a matter of fucking time until you did something."

Lisa yelled, "Stop!"

It did nothing.

Red-faced from the accusation, Malfoy stepped forward, his eyes dangerously narrowed as his wand hand twitched. "I've been with Granger since one o'clock this afternoon. What are you accusing me of?"

Lisa knocked Michael out of the way, clearly out of breath. "I told you Malfoy has nothing to do with Oliver."

"Oliver?" Hermione asked, her shoulders falling. "What's going on?" She'd stepped in front of Malfoy again, her wand already in her hand. "Michael, the longer you stand here and accuse him of wrongdoing, the longer we have a problem."

"Oli is missing," Lisa said, a sob tearing free of her throat. "No one has seen him since lunchtime, and he'd told me he was on his way down here to watch you. I found his wand at the edge of the forest."

All the blood drained from Hermione's face as she turned to Michael. "And what? You thought that he'd taken Oliver? How ridiculous can you be?"

Leanne had been silent up until then. Her arms were folded across her chest. "He's a Death Eater, and don't look at me like that," she hissed at Hermione. "It's best to check all of the possibilities."

Malfoy scoffed. "What other possibilities did you look into? Any of them? Or did you just assume that I kidnapped a thirteen-year-old boy to resurrect the Dark Lord for a second time?"

Hermione would have said the joke was made at a bad time, but Michael had already thrown her out of the way. Her bum hit the ground hard, pain shooting up her spine from her tail bone. "Draco couldn't have done anything!" Hermione yelled.

Grey eyes snapped to her, filled with curiosity at the sudden use of his first name, rather than his last.

Michael looked at her, his wand already digging into Malfoy's throat. But she was certain that Malfoy would best him in a duel and it was in his best interest to remove his wand immediately.

She scrambled, pulling the chain from her shirt, and holding it up. It shined beneath direct sunlight and she swallowed hard. "Not only has he been with me for the entire day nearly, but I would also have known right away if he'd done anything. Not that it's anyone's business, but this was charmed to burn at the sign of violence as a part of the probation set forth by the Ministry."

Malfoy was staring at her, his face an unreadable mask, but anger had flickered behind it, and possibly the smallest amount of disappointment.

"So," Hermione snapped, "I suggest you get your wand off of him, or I won't stop him from hexing you to kingdom come. We need to — Malfoy, where are you doing?"

He didn't so much as look at any of them. "More than you lot. You're all more interested in proving how evil I am than finding this kid."

It hurt to know that he was right. Hermione knew instantly and had known before, that accusations could be cleared after finding Oliver.

Lisa clapped Hermione on the shoulder before hurrying after him without another word.

She would have preferred to help, but Hermione stayed with the campers as Michael and Hannah went in search of Oliver. Lisa and Malfoy had already been gone for over an hour, and Hermione found herself sitting in the kitchens.

The door creaked open, and she glanced up, hoping to hear good news, but it was only Padma. Her face fell, and she returned to picking at her nails. A few moments would go by, and Padma would leave after finding whatever it was she needed. Then she would be alone with her thoughts.

The children were in their cabins, wards re-worked just in case something had gone horribly wrong. From the spot on the kitchen counters, Hermione sat in front of the window, and she had a full view of the camp.

"They found him," Padma said.

Her head whipped around, her lips parting as an invisible weight vanished from her chest. "Oh, thank God." Hermione breathed.

Padma placed her hands on her hips, glancing at the door to see if anyone was there. "I wanted to talk to you about Draco."

Hermione nodded. "Go on."

"Was it your idea or the Ministry's for your little charm?" Padma asked, a dangerous edge in her voice. "Because I don't believe it was mandated by his probation. I think it was you. I remember the charmed galleons from Dumbledore's Army."

It was like cold water had been dumped over her head. "I brought it to Minister Shacklebolt because I was worried."

Padma's smile was anything but kind. "You testified for him. You told the Wizengamot he wasn't a danger to society, but this is what you truly thought of him, isn't it? You're not better than Leanne or Michael. If anything, you're bloody worse considering he's begun to see you as a friend."

Hermione flinched. The girl in front of her might as well have slapped her. "At the time, I had every right to be worried! Have I learned that he would never harm anyone here? Of course I have. I don't know who you think you are —"

"I'm his friend." Padma hissed. "Which is a lot more than I can say for you right now. He's the one who found Oliver. Oliver saw a rabbit rush into the forest, and he wanted to pet it. He said it was injured. Except he got lost and he didn't have a wand. Draco said when they found him, he couldn't breathe properly."

"I don't —"

"Don't interrupt me." She growled. "Draco carried Oliver on his back while telling him things to take his mind off the ankle he sprained. That is the man you're so afraid of, and if you can't, or won't see him for who he is now, then I suggest you keep your distance."

Hermione sat stunned. "It wasn't my intention to hurt him."

"And it was probably wasn't his intention to give a damn about you, but he does. Weasley dumped you and he tried to make you feel better, in his own way. He took off in the middle of a storm that very well could have killed him, and now he's certain that he is unredeemable."

She stared at Padma, everything rushing up to meet her. "He can't believe that."

Padma laughed miserably. "I'm not sorry for yelling at you, even if he'll be irritated with me. He's locked in his cabin now, but I suggest you figure out what the fuck you're going to say to fix this."

"I will." Hermione nodded. "I don't — I never thought that he needed to hear how I thought of him differently than before."

Padma's shoulders slumped. "He might never admit it because he's bloody stubborn, but I think he wants your forgiveness most of all."

Granger would have his head on a pike if she knew. The Gryffindor's beloved counsellor hadn't felt well after the events of the day, and he had the suspicion that she was avoiding him anyway.

A grimace curved his lips at the vivid memory of learning about her ingenious charm and finally finding Lisa's brother in the middle of the forest. He'd been sitting at the base of a tree, his ankle sprained.

Draco looked down at his forearm, jarring himself from the fresh memory.

The Dark Mark hadn't faded since the end of the war, and it stared back at him as he laid his forearm against his leg. Outside of his room, attached to the Slytherin cabin, he could hear the echoing laughter of children. Twirling the dagger in his hand, he wondered for a moment if he could even take the sharp edge to his skin. He hadn't been able to murder Headmaster Dumbledore even as his life depended hinged on his demise.

Growling softly under his breath, lest the fucking children hear their guardian suffering a mental break, he brought the dagger down and stabbing it into his bedside table. It wobbled, the broken leg on the back right side giving way and toppling over. Hot candle wax slid along his trousers, and Draco rubbed his temples in frustration.

It was all he could think about — how Granger had tears in her eyes as if she'd hurt him by saying she'd prepared for him to fuck up. He'd expected everyone else to immediately turn — okay, Padma and Lisa both had more faith in him than he'd had in himself — but Granger? That had cut deeper than he'd admit.

He was — is — a Death Eater, a pathetic follower to Lord Voldemort. Draco Malfoy knew who he was: a Pureblood elitist, a childhood bully that hadn't matured into his adult years, and he could believe that he was a menace to everyday Wizarding society. His probation was a sham, just another way for the Wizengamot to say they knew how to show mercy. He would have rather undertaken the same fate as his late parents than to be paraded around as the world's scapegoat.

He kicked the side of the table, his foot sinking into it as the wood splintered around his shoe.

Snatching the dagger by the ornate handle, he leaned against the dresser, and he didn't dare look in the mirror. He didn't need to make eye contact with his reflection to see the shell of himself. He could feel how weak willed he was if he considered this because he knew how it ended.

It ended with him bleeding out on the Hogwarts grounds, and really, it was what he had expected weeks ago during the final battle. Cutting out the final visible mark that tied him to a psychotic megalomaniac wasn't possible. Morsmordre would heal, but if he were to cut deeply enough, or if he were to slash at his inked forearm that damned him to this life as a social pariah...

Despite the pleasant summer air beyond the four walls, the tip of the blade was cool against his skin. Experimentally, he cut a thin line through the skull, only to watch it heal within a breath. His eyes narrowed, Draco cut through the mouth angrily, tilting the dagger through the Dark Mark. As he'd expected, it healed swiftly, and he smirked as he thought of that snake faced bastard rolling over in his grave if he'd had one.

Terrified to watch himself, and with his bottom lip trembling, Draco's eyes closed.

Slicing through his skin took hardly any effort at all, as sickening as it was. He teeth gnashed together at the pain. His knees buckled beneath him, the back of his skull slamming against the wooden ledge of the dresser as he slid to the floor.

The blood as it slid down his arm, dripping off of his fingertips and onto the pristine floor reminded him of his mother. As Greyback's teeth had sunk into the column on her neck, but it had been blood spatter then. Blood that was sprayed over his skin, and he wretched — bending over and dry heaving.

It was the sound that must have drawn someone to him. Three small knocks sounded against his door, and there was whispering on the other side. For fear that he would scream, he didn't call out with a lie, or to leave him alone.

The door swung open with a soft creak, but the scream that followed must have echoed throughout the entire camp. He looked at the child in horror, trying to hide his bloody arm by raising his leg to block the gruesome view. "Get out," he hissed.

The boy ran to his side, telling Isobel, "Tell the other counsellors, hurry!" And maybe luck was on Malfoy's side as the young girl couldn't speak. Oliver tracked water across the floor, nearly slipping on what Draco didn't even know if it was the water, or the blood seeping from his arm. "Mister Malfoy,"

"You should go," Draco muttered, shifting his weight. "This isn't something you should see," he broke off as the third year tugged his shirt over his head. "What are you doing?"

"My aunt is a Muggle, and she's a nurse." Tearing his shirt, and wrapping it tightly around Malfoy's arm, he continued. "Mum was killed in the war; she was all I had, so we stayed with my aunt during holidays, and I picked up on a few things. You need pressure on this until you can get to St. Mungo's."

Draco shook his head. "What I need is for you to leave, and have someone — probably Granger Obliviate you so you never have to remember this."

The boy, fuck he couldn't even remember his name right then, grabbed his hand and slid his much smaller fingers through Malfoy's. "I've seen worse. What you need is for someone to be here, and tell you they're not leaving you." His brows furrowed together, and determination settled onto his face. "I won't let you die."

Draco found he wasn't sure how to reply as darkness threatened to swallow him up.

In the last scene, Draco is alone in his room, and in his thoughts. He is fidgeting with an ornate dagger, and he lashes out in anger at the events around him. Angry that the world might never see him change, and angry that he might not ever change, he attempts to carve out the Dark Mark himself.

Oliver opens the door, with Isobel in tow, who he sends to get a counsellor. He sits with Malfoy and comforts him in the minutes that tick by, and he says, "I won't let you die."

I would be extremely happy to hear your thoughts! I know the lot of them haven't been so forgiving with Malfoy, and fair warning that Leanne probably never will, but you will see some changes after this chapter.