Five days. That's how long Hermione managed to avoid Malfoy for after the incident. For those five days, she meticulously orchestrated her every move. She would wake up an hour earlier than necessary, slipping into the Great Hall before most students stirred, scarf snug around her neck despite the autumn warmth that still lingered in the air. After finishing her classes, she sought refuge in the library, burying herself in the labyrinth of book and in the evening, she would retreat to Ginny's dormitory, where the youngest Weasley's chatter served as a welcome distraction.
Ginny had, of course, noticed the scarf. "Hermione, you're acting like it's the middle of winter. It's not that cold," she'd remarked one evening, tugging playfully at the fabric of her Gryffindor scarf. Hermione had shrugged her off with a quick excuse about feeling under the weather but her reddened cheeks and refusal to elaborate left Ginny unconvinced. Hermione didn't dare tell anyone about the incident with Malfoy. She resigned to keeping the purple bruise that trailed around each side of her neck, a secret. Malfoy, however, must have told Theo as soon as it had happened because he had spent the last five nights sleeping on one of the lounges in the common area. Hermione didn't know what to make of that. Each night, when it grew late enough to assume Malfoy would be asleep, Hermione would finally creep back to her room and there he'd be, passed out on the couch as if it were his new post. A book would sometimes be draped over his chest, or an empty mug would rest precariously on the floor beside him.
On Sunday night, she'd returned to her room after midnight and found Theo in his usual place on the couch. He was uncovered, and curled up in a manner that suggested he was cold. And for some reason, Hermione felt bad for him. Sighing heavily, she reached for a green tartan blanket that was draped over the side of another chair and covered him gently. When she turned to return to her bedroom, she heard a soft grumbling followed by a hoarse voice saying, "thanks Granger."
Hermione stopped and turned back towards the Slytherin. "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered.
"It's okay," Theo replied honestly, stretching into a sitting position. There was a long pause before Theo finally added, "you're up late."
"I had some work to finish in the library," Hermione lied. She'd actually been strolling the halls for the last hour, having said goodnight to Ginny at eleven.
"Right," Theo responded, unconvinced.
Another long silence fell over the pair and Hermione considered simply saying goodnight and retreating to her room but her curiosity got the better of her. "Theo" she started. "What are you doing here?"
Hermione watched as Theo pondered the question briefly. "I uh…" he started, hesitating. "It's more comfortable than my dormitory. Quieter too… My roommates snore."
"Theo, when I walked in you were sleeping on a lounge with no blanket," Hermione pointed out. "There's no way that's more comfortable than your bed. And I'm sure you're an experienced enough wizard to cast a silencing charm." Theo pressed his lips together, unsure of what to say next.
"Did he ask you to be here?" Hermione interrogated. Theo didn't respond but his inability to hold eye contact with her indicated that she was right. "So, he told you then?" she continued. Theo nodded slowly and Hermione sighed frustratedly. "I don't need your protection, Theo."
"Would it make you feel better if I told you I was here to protect him?" he retorted.
"Protect him?" Hermione repeated. "From who?"
"Himself," Theo answered without hesitation. "Granger… he feels terrible–"
"I don't really care to know how he feels," Hermione interrupted.
"I know," Theo said understandingly. "And that's completely fair. What he did to you is unforgivable." Hermione didn't respond and a small sensation of guilt found its way into her subconscious as she began feeling the familiar sting in her left forearm. She wanted to end this conversation before it worsened but Theo continued, "the morning after it happened, I came here to meet him for breakfast, like I always do.
He wasn't out here and when I badged into his bedroom, I found him packing his things."
"What?" Hermione responded; her voice almost inaudible.
"He refused to talk to me," Theo continued. "Basically, pretended I wasn't there and kept throwing shit into his trunk."
Theo glanced around Draco's room, noticing the various items of clothing that were folded in messy piles, ready to be packed away. "Mate, what's going on?" he tried again to get a response from his friend but Draco continued to ignore him, angrily dropping a stack of books into the trunk. He looked dishevelled, still in his pyjamas, his hair a mess and his face reddened and sweaty. "Mate, whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that bad. Just tell me what's wrong."
Draco's breathing quickened as he released one heavy sigh after another. "It's none of your business," he responded through gritted teeth.
"Your problems rarely are my business," Theo responded, trying to lighten the mood. Draco glared back at him menacingly and Theo coughed, rubbing his hand over his mouth nervously. Draco continued to pack his belongings haphazardly into his trunk and Theo approached him, hoping to get him to at least calm down enough to have a civil conversation.
Reaching for his shoulder, Theo tried, "mate, just stop for a minute–"
"Don't fucking touch me," Draco shouted, slapping Theo's hand away.
Theo furrowed his brown, getting angry himself. "Just tell me what the fuck is going on an I'll leave you alone." Draco didn't response for several moments, desperately trying to control his breathing and calm himself. But nothing was working. "Draco, just–"
"I nearly fucking killed her, okay," Draco finally shouted, turning furiously to face his friend.
The colour drained from Theo's face as he chose his next words carefully. "Who?" he questioned.
"Granger," Draco responded. Feeling severely defeated, he allowed his legs to crumble underneath him as he collapsed into a silver velvet chair, resting his head in his hands.
Theo released a shaky breath and carefully approached the chair, kneeling down next to his friend. "Tell me what happened," he insisted, firmly enough that there was no room for negotiation. Draco recounted the events of the previous night in a frenzy, barely stopping to take a breath. When he finished, Theo sighed and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "Where is she now?" he questioned.
"Probably telling McGonagall," Draco shrugged, slumping back into the chair.
"Mate, it's nearly eight o'clock. If she was doing that McGonagall would already be here," Theo said rationally. Draco responded with a confused glare, having clearly not considered an outcome where Granger wouldn't report the incident to the headmistress.
"That doesn't change anything," Draco sighed, rising and walking back over to his belongings, which he pointlessly started refolding. "I need to leave."
"What're you talking about?" Theo said, almost angry at his friend's desire to give up so quickly. "You're not going anywhere."
"Did you hear a damn thing I just told you?" Draco retorted. "I'm dangerous. I can't be trusted here."
"No," Theo responded firmly. "You're hurting." Draco scoffed and Theo rolled his eyes. "You didn't mean to harm her, did you?"
"Of course not," Draco replied bitterly.
"Then you're not dangerous," Theo comforted, putting a hand to Draco's shoulder.
"So, I told him I'd stay here until he felt like he had better control over the nightmares," Theo finished.
"I see," Hermione responded. Silence fell over the pair as Hermione looked around the room, her eyes eventually landing on a bench that sat against the outer wall of Malfoy's room. She approached it and steadily raised her wand, transfiguring the bench into a plush daybed. "Well, if you're going to stay, at least sleep somewhere more comfortable."
"Thanks," Theo responded genuinely, caught off guard by her sudden generosity.
"We have to do rounds together tomorrow night," Hermione thought aloud, unsure why she was suddenly confiding in him.
"I'm aware," Theo replied as he threw the tartan blanket over his arm and padded over to the daybed. "I can come with you."
"No," Hermione asserted. "That won't be necessary."
"Good," Theo responded. "'Cause I already offered the same thing to Draco and he insisted that he didn't need a babysitter while he was awake."
Hermione let out a small laugh. She bid Theo goodnight soon after and returned to her room. She still felt anxious about having to spend an extended period of time with Malfoy the following night. But perhaps her understanding of him had changed enough to allow her to get even a little sleep.
So, after five days of managing to avoid Malfoy and being able to schedule every other available prefect on rounds – the night finally arrived where it could no longer be avoided.
Upon exiting the heads dormitory, Hermione secured her Gryffindor scarf tightly around her neck. Malfoy was already there waiting for her, casually leaning against the opposite wall, his pale hair glinting under the flickering torchlight. His usual smirk was absent, instead, he looked mildly irritated and, understandably eager to get this over with.
"One more minute and you would have been late," Malfoy remarked as she approached him.
"Good evening to you too," Hermione responded sarcastically.
She expected a snide remark in response but there was none. Instead, Malfoy set off down the hall, his hands buried in his pockets. Their footsteps echoing through the deserted corridors, Hermione focused on the rhythmic pattern of her strides, trying to focus her attention elsewhere. Malfoy, to her surprise, didn't seem inclined to start one of his usual jabs. Instead, his thoughts appeared preoccupied and Hermione wondered if he was avoiding conversation over fear of recent events being raised.
Their rounds were completed in silence and, for the most part, were thoroughly uninteresting. Almost every student had already retired to their common room for the night. They only came across two students who needed to have house points removed for tardiness – a pair of Hufflepuffs who Malfoy caught kissing behind a large column on the lower floor. The fifth-year students turned bright red and scurried off to their common room the second Malfoy had finished reciting their punishment.
The silence persisted until the pair rounded the east wing and Hermione caught sight of a familiar head of red hair. "Out for a midnight stroll, Ginny?" Hermione asked as she approached her friend.
"Oh, thank Merlin it's you on rounds tonight," Ginny expressed, relieved. "I was just coming back from the Owlery – Harry sent me a letter this morning and I only just had the chance to respond. I was hoping to make it back before curfew but I had so much to tell him, I lost track of time."
Hermione pressed her lips together and sighed. "Well, we are supposed to be taking house points from any students we catch outside after curfew."
Ginny looked nervously past Hermione then scowled when she caught sight of Malfoy, who had remained a few paces behind. "Oh, it's you," she started. "I wondered what that faint smell of entitlement was." Malfoy rolled his eyes but remained uncharacteristically silent.
"Hurry back," Hermione interjected. "Just this once, I'll pretend I didn't see you."
Ginny sighed in relief and thanked her. "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow," she said and she started down the hallway. "Oh, and you better leave that damn scarf behind! Otherwise, I'm taking you to see Madame Pomfrey." Hermione laughed nervously in response. She felt a slight tingle in her forearm which she focused on suppressing as Ginny disappeared around the corner leaving the pair behind to finish their rounds. There was only one more corridor to complete and thankfully, it was in the direction of their dormitory.
"You didn't tell her?" Malfoy inquired as they walked in the opposite direction from where Ginny had left. Hermione didn't response and instead quickened her walk so she was a few paces ahead of Malfoy. Her arm was beginning to burn and she wanted nothing more than for this night to be over.
The pair walked the rest of the route in an uneventful silence and eventually ended up back outside their dormitory. "Aren't you coming in?" Hermione questioned, seeing Malfoy linger in the hallway.
"I'm going to go and get some fresh air before bed," Malfoy responded as he began walking in the direction of the balcony.
Hermione rolled her eyes and moved to enter the dormitory. She hesitated a moment and pressed her thumb into her forearm before turning back towards the Slytherin. "I could do with some fresh air," she decided, walking after him.
"It's not actually going to be very fresh," Malfoy responded as he reached the door. Hermione was surprised to find him holding it open for her.
"I know," Hermione said bluntly. "That's what I was hoping for."
The pair stepped out onto the balcony and it wasn't long before Malfoy was placing a cigarette between his lips and holding the packet out for Hermione to take one. She hesitated momentarily before remembering the immense relief that the drug had given her last time. She quickly removed one from the packet and watched as Malfoy lit both cigarettes before pocketing his wand.
Unfortunately for Hermione, the cigarette made her feel as awful as her parents had always warned. She suppressed several coughed before eventually allowing the cigarette to rest between her fingers and burn out on its own. Her arm found no relief in the drug this time and she wondered if last time had been a convenient fluke.
"You avoided my question earlier," Malfoy said suddenly. He was leaning on the balustrade, looking out into the endless darkness beyond the castle.
"What question?" Hermione asked, wondering when it became acceptable for the pair to speak beyond a few short words when if was absolutely necessary.
"Why didn't you tell Weasley about…" he started, hesitating for a moment. "About what happened."
Hermione sighed and lent back against the balcony doors, allowing the cool sensation of the glass to radiate through her body. It didn't do much for the growing pain in her arm but even a small amount of relief was better than nothing "Because she would have told McGonagall," Hermione answered honestly.
"You should have let her," Malfoy responded.
"Maybe," Hermione shrugged. She didn't elaborate and Malfoy didn't press the issue further. Instead, he lit a second cigarette and continued to breath the toxic relief.
After a few moments he turned around to face her. "Let me see," he said, almost demandingly. Hermione was somewhat taken aback by his sudden change in tone and furrowed her eyebrows, irritated.
"See what," she responded shortly.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and placed his cigarette between his lips to hold it in place as he approached her. He tugged on the looped section of the middle of her scarf, pulling it down just enough to expose a small section of her damaged neck. Instinctively, Hermione went to readjust the fabric, quickly covering the evidence with her hands. "Let me see," he repeated again, even more forcefully this time.
"Why?" Hermione questioned in return.
"Because I might be able to fix it," Malfoy responded.
Hermione let out a short, breathy laugh. "There's no point," she started. "I've already tried every healing spell I know. A glamour charm won't even cover it."
"Is it so hard for you to believe that I might know something that you don't?" Malfoy continued.
"Yes," Hermione answered honestly. "Yes, it is."
"Would you stop being so bloody stubborn," Malfoy said frustratedly and without warning, he tugged on the scarf for a second time. This time, it grazed her sounders as it fell to the ground, sufficiently exposing her bruised skin.
"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed, kneeling to pick up the scarf. When she returned to a standing position, Malfoy was observing her neck, his grey eyes moving slowly across the purple marks, making Hermione feel more exposed than ever.
"Hold this," he said suddenly, handing his half-used cigarette to Hermione. Malfoy moved closer to further inspect the damage and for a moment, Hermione saw the same glint of regret in his eye that had been there when he had woken up on top of her.
Hermione felt vulnerable watching his eyes track her exposed skin with such precision. She averted her gaze and, in an effort to appear nonchalant, lifted the cigarette Malfoy had given her to her lips and breathed heavily. Thankfully this time, the cigarette did its job and began calming her. The pain in her arm began to subside and she silently thanked the Muggle who had invented the drugs' toxic ability to take her pain go away.
Soon after, Hermione watched as Malfoy muttered a series of spells, his wand pointed at her throat. "There," he said, completing the spell.
Hermione turned to face the balcony door, catching her reflection in the glass. And much to her surprise, the purple mottled bruise that had stained her skin for the last week, had disappeared. "How did you do that?" she asked, incredulously. Her fingers traced the clear skin gently and she tried to comprehend how efficiently Malfoy had managed to heal her. Malfoy plucked what remained of his cigarette from Hermione's hand and placed it back into his mouth, taking a slow drag and releasing the smoke into the night air. "Seriously Malfoy?" Hermione pressed when he avoided her question. "How did you learn to do that? None of the spells I tried did a damn thing to even lighten it."
Malfoy sighed and turned his right arm slightly, looking down at his forearm. It was covered by his Slytherin jumper and he made no move to expose the skin, instead just looking at the area with an air of intense distain. "I spent months learning every healing spell out there," he eventually revealed. "Trying to get rid of this thing."
He didn't have to say the words. Hermione knew immediately that he was referring to his dark mark. She had wondered what had happened after the war – whether the marks that stained the skin of Voldemort's followers had remined or not. But Malfoy's words clarified her curiosity in that moment. "Trying?" Hermione echoed.
"Nothing worked," he confessed. "It's still there. A permanent reminder of my own idiocy."
Hermione didn't respond and the pair stood in silence for several minutes, breathing in the night air. Eventually, Hermione felt her eyelids grow heavy. Deciding it was finally time to return to her room, she moved towards the doors and for the handle. "Granger," Malfoy stopped her. "I'm sorry… for what happened."
Hermione sighed and swallowed a lump in her throat. Without making eye contact, she pressed through the doors and responded with a brief, "I know."