The Two Musicians
Chapter 5: Scars
By Silver Chessboards
Draco could smell apples and he faintly recalled the memory of making apple pie with his mother when he was seven. It had been one of the very few memories of his childhood that he treasured. Those were the days when his father had been a pleasant man. Even now, the memory still brought a small smile to his lips. Everything had started to go downhill when Draco turned eleven. His father had started to go to pubs and would come home drunk muttering about a 'Dark Lord'.
After the war, his father had been given a life sentence to Azkaban and that was the last Draco ever saw of him. His mother and he had been given a full pardon and at the moment she was in Switzerland with a cousin.
He groaned, it was early in the morning and he was thinking of his terrible past. He banished the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on the lovely scent of apple.
The smell of it clouded his mind and sent waves of euphoria over him.
It had been a long time since he had eaten apples. And he rather favoured green apples.
He groggily cracked open an eyelid.
It was then that he realised that his head and arms were rested atop a desk and he was seated in a stiff wooden chair. The armchair he had slept in the other night seemed much more appealing and comfortable, compared to this chair. He straightened his back, sitting up. His hair was flattened on one side and one of his cheeks felt numb from sleeping on it. Next to him was Granger. He suppressed the urge to groan, in case she woke.
She was sleeping in a position similar to how he had fallen asleep. He was so close that he could even count the freckles spattered across her nose. It was odd not seeing the furrow between her brows or the dimple at the side of her mouth when she was around her Gryffindor friends.
He had never seen her so at peace before and was reluctant to awake her. There were bags under her eyes and she had gotten noticeably skinnier from not eating well. He frowned, if she kept it up her robes would soon become mere rags on her thin frame.
Her eyes fluttered open.
And then she smiled at him.
His breath hitched in his throat.
It was a lazy kind of smile, like one had awakened to a beautiful sunrise and a basket of kittens. Her brown eyes were wide and full of warmth. She looked so innocent, like there was nothing wrong in the world and he fought the urge to smile back.
Merlin, he had never noticed that she was – dare he say it – beautiful.
Her brown tresses were smooth and smelled of apples, the scent he had awoken to. He assumed it was her shampoo. And he wondered how it would feel like to run his hands through—
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. What would Granger say if she knew that he was thinking of her in such a way? He waved it off and assumed it was just the haziness from sleep affecting him.
"Good morning, Draco," Hermione said warmly.
"Um, good morning."
She sat up abruptly and her backbone made a cracking sound as she straightened it. She stretched her hands above her, tilting her head back. More cracks sounded.
"You have lots of stiff bones, Granger. It must be age," he smirked at her as she turned to him
Did he just tease her?
"Oh, shut up," she laughed, her eyes full of mirth. He raised an eyebrow.
"Well, we'd best be going," he stood.
His bones cracked.
"Now who's old?"
"Oh, be quiet," he chuckled, grabbing his satchel.
The first thing he reached for at the breakfast table was the steaming plate of apple pie. He placed a slice on his plate, inhaling the delicious scent. It had been ages since he had last eaten apple pie. He sunk his fork into an edge and tasted the pastry. It was good but the one the house elves made back at the manor was better. He shrugged, it would have to do. Eating slowly, his eyes roamed over the Great Hall. It was still extremely early so there weren't many students up. The Ravenclaw table had most students, then the Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Gryffindor.
It seemed strange that the Gryffindor table had the least amount of students for he had always thought that they risen early. But then again, neither did he. It was the first time since term started that he had been so early for breakfast. Usually he would take a stroll near the lake first but he had slept in the most uncomfortable position the night before. He thought of Granger and her stiff bones and chuckled at the thought. There was no one sitting near enough to him to hear his laughter but someone saw it. She was sat at the Gryffindor table looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head, telling her that it was nothing.
She shrugged and returned to her breakfast. He had noticed how she never drank coffee, just a single glass of orange juice occasionally with a teaspoon of honey. It was almost as if she couldn't go a day without it, for he always saw a glass of the drink sat beside her on the table. He didn't stalk her or anything of that sort, he was just observant.
He quickly finished his apple pie, downed his glass of pumpkin juice and headed out of the Great Hall. It was still extremely early and he had time.
The sudden rush of cold air against his skin made goosebumps erupt over his skin. He had been right, it was very early. The lake made occasional ripples and the Giant Squid broke the smooth surface of the water with one of it's tentacles before disappearing underneath. The crunch of leaves and grass under his feet was loud as he walked towards the oak tree. Almost all the leaves had fallen, leaving the branches bare except for a few yellow leaves that had managed to cling on. The wind swirled the leaves on the ground, making them float in circles for a while before settling them back down.
The lake was gorgeous, the best times to visit would be early in the morning and in the evening when the sun was about to set. He had only visited the lake in the mornings but had glanced out his window before in the evenings and honestly, it was quite a sight. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, the fabric soft against his pale skin. September would soon come to an end. His breaths came out in white clouds that disappeared with the air. Winter was his favourite season of the year for it was when the world turned white and all the dirt and blemishes disappeared under the soft crunchy snow. It was cold and calming, a time where he could think without distractions.
It reminded him of what splendid beauty life could bring even if life itself was ugly in truth.
He sat down with his back leaning against the trunk of a tree, he always sat beneath the same tree. The one with the incredibly dark wood, with the large crack on one branch. The one with the pebbles near it, for he liked to throw pebbles into the water and watch them skip before sinking into the depths of the lake.
He picked up an oval shaped pebble, feeling it's smooth surface in the palm of his hand. It was not too heavy, neither was it very light. He positioned the pebble in his hand and flung it into the air.
It sailed in the air for a while and hopped on the water three times before sinking into the waters. He heard the nearby crunch of leaves and looked up to see her making her way towards him.
"May I join you?" she asked politely.
He nodded, averting his gaze back to the lake. It had been two weeks since they had sat under the same tree, but the other time it had been him asking if he could accompany her. She sat down on the grass, her clad legs stretched out in front of her slightly bent up at the knees. There was a moment of silence where he threw another pebble, it skimmed the waters and hopped twice before disappearing with a splash. He turned his head to look at her, she was staring at the spot where his pebble had sunk into the murky depths.
She averted her eyes to him, once aware of his gaze. She had wide brown eyes and her curls were a mess, tumbling down her back. Her Gryffindor scarf was tied securely around her neck, he pushed aside a part of her scarf hiding the skin near the jaw. He frowned, his cold fingers lightly skimming over a scar there. It was of mediocre length but not very deep or noticeable unless one looked carefully. He looked back at her, his eyes questioning.
Her cheeks were tinted red, but he couldn't be sure whether it was because of the cold or their proximity. He assumed it was the former. His fingers lingered on the scar, lightly brushing against it.
"I tripped when I was six," she said simply, giving him a weak smile.
"Oh..." he said, removing his fingers from her skin and tucking the scarf back.
She stared hard at him, seeming confused. Her brows were furrowed and she bit her bottom lip. He glanced down at her lips and back to her eyes. He raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"What do you mean?"
"I-I don't know, you're suddenly extremely pleasant towards me and to think that you hated me the year before."
"I didn't hate you Granger. I never did. It was merely dislike, but never hate. I've only hated one man in my life, Granger."
"And who–" her eyes widened in realisation, her sentence trailing off.
Voldemort.
"Oh..." She said as she realised, her frown softening.
"I've learnt my lesson, Granger. The war helped me realise how silly I was as a child. It taught me that everyone was equal, blood was all the same. Red." He said, his voice softening as he said the last word. His thumb brushed against the scar on her neck, his eyes trained on it before looking back at her.
She was no longer flushed nor was she embarrassed by his gentle actions. Her eyes had softened to a warm honey brown and she was wearing an understanding smile.
"I'm glad."