A/N: I am so very sorry for ho wlong it has taken to get this next chapter ip. It was hard to write and I kept changing it and at one point re-wrote it entirely to go in a completely different direction. I'm still not totally happy with it but I need to step away from it and just push on.
This chapter has some fairly dark themes. Discussed noncon and dubcon. Draco and Hermione have some serious issues/PTSD and if you haven't caught on yet, this story is a lot of them learning to rely on each other and share their burdens and heal together. In order to heal, they have to let it all out, discuss some harsh topics and reveal some things they aren't very proud of. If you want to skip this chapter, just scroll down to the bottom for a quick recap that will keep you up to date without going into detail.
Chapter 13: McGonagall
Draco sat in his common room, staring into nothingness and trying to calm his mind. He was tired, tired of this place and the people here, tired of feeling less than, beneath contempt, even invisible. He needed to get back in Granger's good graces, even if only to have someone else to commiserate with. Misery loves company, right?
He practiced raising and lowering his occlumency shields to keep his mind occupied until it was time to go meet with the headmistress for his apprenticeship. It was a true apprenticeship, as much as it could be with him still having a full schedule of classes. He had assigned readings and practicums, of course, but he also assisted with marking papers, engaged in theoretical debates, and was slated to take over the first year classes by next term. He found it very satisfying, much more so than any of his other classes where he was ignored at best.
He made sure to be early so that he could bump into Granger in the hall, hoping she might talk to him. It had looked like she was going to talk to him during that disastrous lunch but she had remained mute and he had given up and stormed out after the ginger menace had a go at him. What she said made sense and he understood where everyone was coming from. He was the face of the war, apparently, even more so for the students and staff of Hogwarts than Voldemort had been. But just because he understood it didn't mean he had to like it or that he should have to put up with taunting and misery and physical assault because someone else needed to feel better about their lives.
And yes, he knew he was being a total hypocrite having been the bully and the abuser prior to the war so that he could feel better about his own life. But he had meant it when he said he had more than paid his dues and reparations, and he didn't mean in just money. Daily torture and being witness to death, mayhem, rape, and the torture of others, men, women, and even children, were more than enough to have him repenting his ways and begging for forgiveness from any deity that might be listening.
People saw the faces of their dead loved ones when they looked at him. Well, he saw those faces, too. All of them. From both sides of the war. He saw Professor Burbage's dead body being swallowed by that snake every time he ate in his dining room, regardless of the massive renovation he had done on the manor. He saw Lupin and Fred, who he had always found funny, and his cousin Nymphadora and Vince and Theo's dad and that dumb bint Lavender Brown with her throat torn open and the list just kept going.
He walked down the halls of this school and remembered catching Carrow with a first year girl shoved up against a wall, his hand under her robes. He had raised his wand just as Snape had appeared and rescued the girl under the guise of needing Carrow's attention. That wasn't the first time nor the last that Draco had stumbled upon Carrow or his sister torturing a student in one way or another. It was the last time Carrow accosted a female student. In fact, after his meeting with Snape, he never even looked at any of the female students again.
That should have been Draco's first clue that Snape wasn't all he claimed to be.
Draco was knocked off memory lane by the door to the transfiguration classroom swinging open and nearly knocking him in the head. He opened his mouth to greet the curly haired witch he had grown so obsessed with in such a short amount of time but she walked right by him like he wasn't even there.
Be honest, you've been obsessed with her for years. It just wasn't for the same reason. And she won't even give you the time of day because you're such a damned prat, as usual. Good going, mate, you've fucked up again.
Needless to say, his time with McGonagall was tense and awkward as he was preoccupied with thoughts of Granger and how his fucked up life was probably going to stay fucked up for the foreseeable future. If he thought the headmistress wasn't going to notice, well, he was delusional to say the least.
"Mr. Malfoy, kindly explain to me just what is going on today with yourself and your dorm mate," the stern witch demanded after he had to ask her to repeat her instructions for a third time.
"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Professor," Draco drawled nonchalantly.
"And I was born just this morning," McGonagall answered sarcastically. "Now, child, if you please."
"I can't speak for Her…her, but I am just preoccupied thinking about something for my potions…lessons," Draco responded in his haughtiest tone.
"So the fact that she spent the night out of the castle and you stormed Ravenclaw tower looking for her has no bearing on how the both of you are acting today?" she countered, clearly disbelieving.
Draco really should've known that the headmistress would know everything that was going on in the school. Luckily he could speak from experience that even the head of Hogwarts wasn't privy to what the students got up to in private. He was pretty sure that if she knew that he knew what the muggle-born tasted like, what she looked like screaming his name in pleasure, what her quim felt like spasming around his cock, that she would've hexed him as soon as he had entered the room.
"We had a bit of a row, is all. She leaves her books piled up everywhere and I shouldn't have to put up with clutter in my living space," Draco bluffed.
"Not to be crude, Mr. Malfoy, but I call bullshit. You don't have to tell me what you fought about. It doesn't matter. You will work it out because she is good for you, and being friends with her is good for your reputation and good for the wizarding world."
Draco's eyes shot to the old witch's face, first because of her use of profanity and secondly because…
"What are you on about?" he asked incredulously.
McGonagall huffed out a breath as if preparing herself to explain advanced transfiguration to a complete dunderhead, straightened her robes to show she meant business and looked him straight in the eye. "They need to see that one of their saviors, this beacon of Muggle-born equality, their princess, so to speak, can forgive her personal tormentor, a confirmed Death Eater and blood purist. They need to see that even one as evil as they perceive you to be can be reformed, can be saved, can see the light, as it were. Your current living situation wasn't just for your safety, Mr. Malfoy. I had hoped that you would make nice, even if just to prevent her from hexing you to hell and back."
Draco couldn't fault her reasoning. It even made sense, from a Slytherin perspective, to ally himself with a muggle-born in such high standing with the wizarding community. It would boost his own reputation, put him back in good standing and bring some of the Malfoy connections back into the fold, even if only so they too could benefit from association with the Hermione Granger, even if that association was merely by proxy. It wasn't the goal the lofty Gryffindor had in mind, being a beacon of peace and tolerance, but when the shit inevitably hit the fan and his truce/friendship/whatever with Longbottom, Lovegood, and hopefully Granger reached his parents, he at least had an explanation they would understand and perhaps approve of. Whether or not it was his true motivation was irrelevant.
He didn't care about his father's approbation so much as he didn't want to deal with the fallout. He had enough to deal with without Lucius Malfoy throwing his wrath and disapproval around. He hoped his mother would be a bit more sympathetic…understanding…maybe.
Enough with that train of thought, Draco. If you keep staring off into space the old biddy is going to think you've lost the plot.
"I see. I've apologized, believe it or not. Granger is…well, I have it on good authority that I just need to give her space and time and she'll come around."
"And that is all well and good, Mr. Malfoy. Unfortunately, we have precious little of that. I've taken it into my own hands," McGonagall announced smartly. "I am leaving it to you to make things right. I expect you to return for our next meeting with your head where it belongs."
Effectively dismissed, Draco cleaned up his work area and returned to his dorm, curious as to what she had meant by taking it into her own hands. His curiosity was quickly sated upon entering the dorm and seeing all of Granger's belongings back in place as if she had never left. The witch herself was seated on the couch, looking resigned.
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Hermione heard Draco enter the room. She contemplated running for the door but knew it would prove fruitless. After all, the headmistress controlled the castle and if she wanted Hermione to stay put, the castle would naturally oblige.
"I tried to go back to Hagrid's. I made it to the courtyard and suddenly I was here. All my things were here. I assumed the headmistress had something to do with it. So I tried to go and talk to her. It appears she is unhappy with our separation."
"She said as much," Draco responded, throwing off his robe and sinking down onto the couch next to her. "I take it we can't leave."
"It would appear not," Hermione answered. "I am unsure if there is a time limit or…"
"Oh, I'm fairly certain of what the old cat wants," Draco assured. "She said, and this is a direct quote, mind you, that being friends with you is 'good for my reputation and good for the wizarding world', since they all need to see their favorite muggle-born forgive an evil death eater like me and prove that even the worst of us can be reformed."
Hermione nodded slowly. She had come to a similar conclusion as to the reason for her incarceration while she had sat there for nigh on two hours. The only reason to magically divert her back to her room was because she had left them in the first place with no intention of returning and McGonagall obviously wanted her to return. The only reason she would go to such measures to keep her in this particular room was that there was something there that wouldn't be found anywhere else, namely, Draco Malfoy. And the only reason she would want Hermione to be stuck in a room with Draco Malfoy would be to make peace. From there it wasn't difficult to come up with a list of possible reasons she would want the two to come to a truce. Really, it was child's play figuring it out.
"Fine," Hermione responded. "We're friends. We'll sit together during meals, study together in the library, and I'll even sit with Slytherin at their first Quidditch match."
"Well, don't expect me to sit with Gryffindor, though I might be persuaded to cheer for them at one of their games. Against Hufflepuff. Maybe," Draco teased.
"Great, that's settled then," Hermione said as she stood and made her way to the door, not at all surprised when it refused to open.
"You didn't mean it," Draco finally concluded, voice the epitome of dejection.
"They always said you were clever," Hermione retorted. "Look, I'm tired and confused and I'm going to go take a long shower and crawl into bed and deal with…all of this…later."
"Ok, Hermione…um…Granger. We'll talk later, then," Draco relented. "But, before you go…I…it's just…what I mean to say is…I'm an ass and a prat and a total wanker and I am truly sorry. I didn't mean what I said and I really shouldn't have done what I did and I tried to get back to take it all down before you ever saw it but my timing is as bad as my luck apparently and I know you aren't ready to forgive me and I truly don't deserve it but I wanted you to know that."
Hermione nodded once, a simple dip of her head in acknowledgment, and retreated to her room, grabbing her bath kit and lounge clothes and walking to the bathroom, steadfastly refusing to meet the eyes of the contrite wizard sitting dejectedly on the couch. She showered mindlessly; shampoo, condition, condition again because…duh, scrub face and body and out. She took her time drying off with a fluffy towel and moisturizing her arms and legs, letting the soothing strokes of her hands relax her, before pulling on her soft lounge pants and another oversized t-shirt purloined from one of the boys. Fluffy socks and a messy bun completed the look.
She was determined to make it back to her room without interacting with him but as soon as she opened the door she smelled food and her stomach chose that moment to remind her that she had needs that couldn't really be ignored. Spread out on the coffee table were plates of roast beef and potatoes, green beans, buttered corn, rolls, and even an apple pie, still steaming and sending wafts of cinnamon into the air.
"It just showed up on the table. D'you reckon we'll be able to leave for classes tomorrow? I really want you to forgive me and I want to be friends…maybe one day more than friends…but if it means I don't have to go back out there, hell, I'm half tempted to piss you off even more."
Hermione took in the blonde's smirk and the teasing twinkle in his gunsmoke eyes. Much better than the anger and despair of earlier. She must have stood staring at him a tad too long because the twinkle and the smirk disappeared and his shoulders slumped in defeat. She took pity on him, sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table and filling a plate.
"If you piss me off more, what's waiting for you out there will seem like a walk in the park compared to what I might do to you locked in here, with no escape," she mock threatened.
Draco must not have known whether to take her seriously or laugh because he sort of snorted, like he started laughing and then thought better of it. Unfortunately, he had just taken a large mouthful of pumpkin juice and his aborted laugh sent most of it dribbling down his chin quite unattractively. Hermione couldn't help the smile that tilted the corner of her lips.
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She's smiling, Draco thought. This might not be as hard as I thought. Pitiful. Be pitiful. And for Merlin's sake don't stare at her tits in that shirt.
"You forget; I lived with Vodlemort for over a year. I guarantee you there is nothing you can do worse than what I…what he…" Draco trailed off meaningfully.
"I didn't forget. How could I?" she asked, head bent towards her plate.
"I know. I never meant…I never thought…I'm glad you escaped. And I'm glad Potter killed that old snake. And that Longbottom killed the actual snake. And I wish…well, I guess it doesn't really matter what I wish."
Draco watched the silent witch as she popped a green bean into her mouth, chewing slowly as she seemed to contemplate something. He guessed she hadn't reached a satisfactory conclusion yet because she darted her honey brown eyes to his only to let them fall away once more as she took a delicate bite of roast beef. He had just taken a forkful of potato when she spoke.
"What was it like, then?" she asked, still avoiding his gaze.
"What was what like?" he volleyed, though he knew what she was asking. He wasn't sure he wanted to go down that conversational black hole. He took another bite to delay the inevitable.
"Living with Voldemort," was her oh-so-casual response, as if she hadn't just asked him to describe the worst year of his life.
Draco used the excuse of chewing his roast beef very thoroughly to think of an appropriate response. He didn't want to talk about it. He really didn't. He didn't want her to hear of the horrible things he had done, or had been done to him, or that he had witnessed and done nothing to stop, things that were even worse than watching his aunt torture her.
He opened his mouth to tell her of when Professor Burbage had died, something awful but not really involving him in any participatory capacity, when he felt a pull in the back of his skull. Before he could shove more food in his mouth he heard himself tell her the last thing he had wanted to come out of his mouth.
"He liked to make examples of people. Didn't address him as 'Lord', it's a crucio for you. Didn't finish a task he set you, or worse, failed, its a few days in the dungeons and a few rounds with Bellatrix and her husband for you. After a crucio, of course. Disagree with him? Instant avada unless he thought you were too useful and then he would torture your family instead. And he knew exactly what each person would consider torture.
"For some, it's seeing their wives or children hurt. For others, it's all about the reputation. That's where I came in. You know I insinuated you were some kind of slag or whore and I knew better…know better, because if anybody here is a whore, it's me. He used me as a whore, seducing others to our side usually but I'd also be sent in as a punishment for those who wouldn't comply. Don't want to join an evil overlord who is bent on destroying pretty much everybody…well, he'll make sure your pure, virginal daughter can make no claim to such in the future. And if the girl proved too difficult for the whore to seduce well, he had a solution for that too. He'll pour dark lust potions down her throat and watch her beg for it from anybody and everybody in the room, in any room, even her own father, brothers, uncles, and then he'll send her to the whore to relieve her suffering."
Draco quickly brought his cup to his lips, hoping to stopper the flow of information that he had been magically compelled to share. He should have realized that McGonagall wasn't going to leave anything to chance. She wanted them to talk and make peace and she would have taken into account the possibility of Granger being incredibly stubborn and refusing to speak to him. Unfortunately, realizing he was under a compulsion and being able to fight against it were two different things. As soon as he was finished swallowing, the deluge began again, Hermione staring at him wide-eyed and tight-lipped, having come to the conclusion that if she opened her mouth to speak, she might also be compelled to say something she didn't want to.
"I like sex well enough and usually sought it out on my own, as a ready-made excuse to get out of participating in a revel or going on a raid. Father made up the excuse that I was recruiting. Voldemort latched onto that but after awhile decided to use me more in that capacity. The girls were willing enough, usually, and didn't even know that they were being 'ruined' as a punishment for their fathers. Most of them weren't even pure and virginal to begin with. For those who weren't too keen, well, they were after the potion took hold, and they were thankful, at the end, for what I gave them, for helping them find relief. But they wouldn't have done it without that potion, I'm sure, or maybe they would have, if they got more of a chance to know me. I don't know if they would have, though, so that makes me a rapist, whatever else I am."
Draco was screaming inside his head, begging his mouth to shut. The. Fuck. Up. Hermione's eyes were getting wider with each word that spewed out of his gaping maw and he was sure that after this she would never look at him the same way again. Never even look at him again, more like. He shifted his gaze to the ceiling, not wanting to see the condemnation in her gaze.
"I wouldn't have done it if there was another way. I mean, I guess I could have just killed them, or I could have refused. But that would make me a murderer or still complicit in rape because he would have just sent someone else and then he would have tortured me or my mum. Or he would use someone else to teach me a lesson. So in the end it was a matter of a girl having sex that was kind of consensual, but more not, or a girl being gang raped and someone else being tortured, most likely me. I chose the lesser of the two evils. Or maybe I just saved my own skin. Probably that one."
Draco had been trying desperately to throw up his shields, hoping they would override the compulsion that had clearly been laced into the food. He kept trying to command his hands to grab something, anything, and shove it in his mouth but it seemed the compulsion would only allow him to eat and talk.
"That's what it was like. It was hell. It was daily torture, physical, mental, and emotional torture. It was death and pain. It gave bad people righteous justification for doing all the batshit crazy stuff they wanted to do anyway and it turned…goodish people into bad people. Turned me, whatever I was, into a bad person."
Finally, it seemed that the charm or potion or whatever it was had worn off or the requirements had been met enough for it to loosen its hold. Draco slumped back in the couch and rubbed at his suspiciously burning eyes. He was afraid to look at the witch still seated across from him. He wondered why Hermione hadn't gotten up to leave yet and was beginning to think she was under a compulsion as well, perhaps to sit and listen.
He couldn't stand the idea that she was sitting there, unable to leave and get away from him, sure that she would want to get as far from him as possible, preferably behind a closed, locked, and warded door. He stood abruptly and turned towards his room, intent on removing his revolting presence from her line of sight, and hoped that if she was under a compulsion, it would lift now that he was no longer in over-sharing mode.
"I thought she was going to give me to Greyback," Hermione said, voice shaky. "He would have given me to Greyback, probably."
Draco stopped in his tracks but still couldn't look at her.
"He would have torn out my throat, after, or maybe during. He would have hurt me. A lot. I was still a virgin then, you know. He wanted to hurt me and he would have killed me. What you did, it wasn't good and it isn't ok but it was the best choice for everyone. You didn't drug them and they would have, at the least, still been raped and, at the worst, been hurt quite a bit more if you hadn't made the choice you made. So while I don't condone it, I understand it and if I had been given a choice, I would have chosen you over the other option."
Draco shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. Oh, he had no doubts that she would have been given to the wolf eventually. He couldn't believe that she was kind of absolving him of his sins. How could she offer absolution for rape but refuse to forgive him his cruel words and basic stupidity? Or maybe she was offering him forgiveness, in a way. He was too emotionally distraught to be a good Slytherin though and didn't want to read between the lines. He stepped up to his bedroom door but didn't enter.
"I'm sorry. For all of it. All that I did for him and all that I did to you. For bullying you and for Bella and for the pictures and the accusations. I'm so very sorry, Hermione. I'm the whore, not you, it was just easier to think of you using me than to think you actually chose me because why would anybody choose me? I asked for your forgiveness but I know I don't really deserve it."
And before she could reply, either to confirm or deny, he stepped into his room and shut the door.
Summary: McGonagall knows something isn't right and wards Draco and Hermione into their room. She uses a compulsion on their food to get them to talk and to listen to each other. Draco reveals that he had to do some things to survive that he feels guilty about. Hermione offers him a smidgeon of comfort but he is too ashamed of himself and hides in his room.
