Disclaimer: I own corn and lollipops. Though, I do not own Harry Potter. Or Draco Malfoy. Sadly.

AN: This chapter contains triggers and should be read with caution.

Chapter 14 - Weakness

"What do you mean, McCall?" Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, trying hard to stay calm.

"You can't return the equipment now. It's past drop-off time, I have to write you up." The small Shawn McCall nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and started writing on his parchment.

Draco's eyes widened in disbelief. Had he been hearing right? This boy had a job because of him. He is a student, not a dictator. This is his job, to take his things, and basically serve him. Obviously this bloke had gotten it all wrong.

"We have rules for a reason, Malfoy." At this he glared up at the tall man before him. His short legs seemed to shudder slightly at the sight.

"I don't think you understand, McCall. I did not intend to ruin your perfect night consisting of you sitting on your fat arse by dropping off a few balls. However, I must state that I did just practice with my team for three hours straight. In the rain. If I could have gotten you the equipment earlier I would have.

Keeping his composure and poise took every bit of self control he had in him. Act like nothing can touch you, he told himself. Act like nothing bothers you and then nothing can.

His face of indifference left his eyes cold and hazed.

"This really isn't working Malfoy." McCall tried to copy his look of indifference nervously. His short form not the slightest intimidating. "You need to hand in the quidditch equipment before nine pm every day you have practice. We will have to figure something else out, because I can't just sit here and wait until…"

Draco raised his hand, his eyes firmly closed. "You are taking the equipment. Like you are supposed to do." he started slowly. "If you want to write me up, that's up to you. Just take. The equipment."

"I will write you up! You don't scare me! You can't touch me!"

Draco coldly crocked an eyebrow. Ever so cooly he dropped the equipment box on the boys table with a flick of his wand.

"Just because you're a death eater it doesn't mean you scare me!"

Draco nodded and pursed his lips. "You said that already." He sighed inwardly before leaning in slowly. Once eye to eye with the boy he whispered: "And I'm not a death eater."

"Y-yes you are." McCall tried to lean away without breaking eye contact. "I've seen it!" His eyes averted to Draco's sleeved arm.

"Oh, you mean, this?" He ripped his shirt up to his elbow, and with a firm fist he exposed his inked arm. McCall didn't have time to answer. While his little eyes widened to the size of apricots Draco covered his arm back up again. "I am very well aware I had to take the mark. Do you think it's removable?"

"I-I duno…"

"No, it's not. Do you think it's painful?"

"I-I duno…"

"That's right, you don't know. You have no idea what it's like to have everyone against you. But we fought for the same thing, you see; survival. I'm no different than you. Apart from the fact that we fought on different sides of the war. Apart from the fact that I am in my Seventh Year, and you're a fifth grader. Apart from the fact that I am Head Boy, and you're the Equipment Collector. So, you will be the good little boy you pretend to be and collect the equipment, like you're supposed to do. And we can discuss the rest later. How does that sound?"

Draco didn't wait for an answer, but rather swung around and took long strides away from there.

His long legs took him to his next destination without hesitation meanwhile he replayed the scene in his head. He was getting angrier for every second that passed. For every word that had left that little git's mouth he had just wished to punch it.

Draco got himself angrier for every second. A burning fire, ire and blue, was driving from within. It was closing to the surface and he didn't know what do do if it came to escape.

He could have been over reacting, but with all that pent up anger inside him he couldn't control even an inch of what spread ever so quickly through his body.

An inner wish for acceptance was yet again recked. All those selfish people that had pointed out his own close-mindedness were now irking the same motions he had used to. He, like anyone else, wished he could go on without anyone judging and deciding for him.

Fast in his steps he was back in his room, quickly merging to the bathroom. Finally in the dark, over-sized room, he slumped his weight onto the sink, hanging his head in defeat.

He felt like a leech, constantly leaning to anything that could keep him alive, when in reality maybe he wasn't supposed to.

He felt like he had lost control, his purpose if you will. His insides were burning. They were roaring, like winds in firestorms. Like tornadoes moving through the land. Yet, they were still, like a still life painting, for a picture perfect stillness.

He needed control, he needed to breathe. He needed release.

Draco looked up at the mirror reflecting his pale face; his drained skin and sunken cheeks, his cold, sloping eyes and his open, dry mouth. His reflection was a reminder of all he had gone through, all he tried to keep inside himself; all he tried so hard to never show the world.

The image angered him further and became too much to handle. Before he knew it his fist was crushing the mirror in a punch he hadn't even acknowledged. The shattered image gave him a sense of calmness. A bit of that roaring fire had quieted down slightly.

Draco's head fell down onto his chest again, and his tears began to stream. He felt so tired. Like he wanted to sleep for days. He didn't want to care, nor feel.

Watching his fist now clamming the sink he noticed the blood streaming from his skin.

It was an odd feeling, watching it drip so slowly. His anger was slowly seeping out of him. Leaving him empty and hopeless.

"I can't do this," he mumbled to himself. His lonely tears diluted the thick blood seeping onto the white sink.

The contrast was enchanting.

Hermione sighed, yet refused to open her eyes. It was so calm, waking up next to the fire. The sound of the sparks cracking, and the warmth licking her tender skin. It was like a lullaby rocking her between sleep and consciousness.

With a slight smile she finally opened her eyes to watch the empty calmness around her. How long had she been asleep? Judging by her desperate need to pee, it must have been quite some time.

Stretching her legs, like her cat had used to, Hermione moved to the bathroom. The door was cracked open, yet there was no fire inside. It wasn't dark, per say, as the lit up hallway leading to the washing closet obviously cast its lights as far as it could, lighting up surfaces inside the bathroom.

"I can't do this"

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her hairs rising to the barely whispered words. The voice was coming from inside the supposedly empty room. Yanking her wand out she tiptoed closed to the bathroom door. Her breathing was heavy, her chest heaving. Drawing one final breath before silently peeping through the crack.

The view that hit her was not what she had expected. There was blood scattered around the sink, and the million shards of glass from the shattered mirror were scattered around Malfoy's feet.

Malfoy.

It was Malfoy's blood. At first this scared her, thinking there might be someone else there; someone who had done this to him.

But there was only silence around him, as he was standing with a shard of glass in his hand.

When the realization hit her, that he had done this to himself, she couldn't begin to comprehend why. The cold, ignorant wall of his selfdefense was made to gravel. He was naked to the world, standing there, alone in the shallow darkness.

With her mouth slightly agape her grip around her wand faltered. That sensitive millisecond would have devastating effects on the upcoming situation.

In ultra-rapid Hermione's wand slipped through her fingers, a small gasp escaping her plum lips. She squeezed her eyes firmly as it slid through the air, aiming for the hard flooring. Knowing her appearance would not please her co-Head in his sensitive situation, she begged for the wand to stop.

Fate had other plans, however, and let the vine wood hit the floor.

Silence.

Did she dare to look up? Did she dare look at the man she had encounter in such a compromising position?

Barely opening her mouth to speak a soap came flying as wide, lit eyes met hers. All but a slim second was spent on seeing each other, yet that moment felt like an eternity. The door loudly shut in her shocked face. "I'm sorry…" She breathed, as his silent spells did its work.

Turned to the closed door she spoke up "…I'm so sorry, I… it wasn't locked…"

Apart from the buzzing in her ears she could hear a "GET OUT!" through the hard wood. Initial small steps led her backwards, away from the bathroom door. "…I'm sorry…" she mumbled, over and over again.

Her gut told her to stay, yet she wanted to run away. Stepping back and forth in their common room, her breath was hitched and shallow. Eventually she dropped down on the ground, sliding against the wall in doing so.

With her head against her knees she focused on steadying her breathing. In-out-in-out.

Shallow, timid steps lead up to her small form, before they abruptly stopped. Draco sat down next to her leaning against the wall.

She could hear his breathing, being more rapid than her own. It felt awkward, in the silence. She felt unease, waiting for his cold, venom laced words.

Both kept their eyes closed as he began to speak.

"I heard you fixed the weasel."

Silence.

"I heard you hit a 6th grader."

Draco snorted. "That was years ago." With a faint smirk he continued. "To be fair, I didn't. I'm not violent like you."

"I didn't beat him." she retorted. "Though, I wish I had."

"Ah, only me who has tasted your wicked fists then."

Hermione couldn't stop the small smile slipping over her lips. "You, and a boy in my class, back in primary school."

"I pity him. Those hands are not to be messed with." Draco pursed his lips, and eyed her hands.

Hermione looked over at him, for the first time during their conversation. She was smiling from ear to ear. "I think he agrees with you."

There was a slight pause before he met her eyes. "Did he deserve it?"

She sighed slightly and leaned her head back against the wall. "Just as much as you did."

"Good." And with that he mimicked her action, and leaned back in comfortable silence.

It was a silence that didn't need to be filled with words. Without knowing it, Malfoy had managed to do what her friends hadn't been able to do for a long while; comfort her. She felt odd by the thought. A sense of guilt flooded over her, when she thought back at what brought them into this situation to begin with.

"I-I didn't mean to pry." she managed to say softly.

He nodded in understanding. "Yet you did."

"I'm so so-"

He held up his hand, signaling for her silence. "Don't." The word wasn't laced with venom, nor was it sharp. It was almost pleading, soft and smooth. He sighed. "What's done is done."

"You could obliviate me." She swallowed. "If you want." the small words were whispered to her hands.

"Do you want me to?" Malfoy asked her calmly.

"No."

A small paused was followed by Malfoy's surprising words. "Then don't ask me to."

Hermione looked up at him then. He had his eyes closed, and his white-blonde head was yet again resting against the cool wall. He did not look as bothered as she had expected. He did not look agonizingly angry or scared. Malfoy simply looked tired.

That's when she realized this cannot be the first time such an incident had occurred. However, not the part about someone finding out, of course. She could only imagined how much pent up anxiety he carried along with him.

She did not say anything, for she did not know what to say.

AN: Hello lovelies!

Another chapter is finished. I couldn't stay away from it, although I really should have with the amount of work I have to complete. Nevertheless, here it is! I hope you enjoyed it. Or… you know… don't wish to kill me at least.

Love