Scars

four

Days passed, just like that and barely any of them noticed. They had managed a routine, sitting together, eating together, walking to class, walking out of class and accompanying each other everywhere. Hermione had even made a valiant effort on her part and sat in the very back seat with Draco as well, even though it made it hard for her to hear or see. Despite the large amounts of time they spent together, none of them said a word, it was like an unspoken promise, to let them have the privacy of their mind. It was better that way, both of them thought, because not either of them would trust themselves, unknown what would come out of their mouths if allowed to speak.

During sleepless nights both would always find one another in the hallways, and bask in the company of each other. Their nightmares would be too loud, too vivid to real to ignore so they would concentrate on what was actually real.

He would imagine Hermione's hair, wild and unruly and uncontrollable. She would imagine Draco's eyes, grey like the clouds before a storm, lost, yet calculating every movement, every action.

They were real, they were there. They were not alone. Despite their past, they had chosen to move on. Battle scarring them worse than ever, they were left alone to deal with the side effects.

However, whenever Hermione would round a corner to come face to face with the place she had seen Fred lying dead, unmoving and sickly pale, a picture engraved perfectly to memory, and her mind would refuse to stop playing the horrific scene repeatedly against her eyes, Draco would break through his hard and cold demeanor and hold her hand. He would be there. He would look her in the eyes, and she would see a great deal of encouragement. Still no words spoken, still no conversation exchanged. Their company was enough.

Unlike her, Draco had not covered the lively ink on his skin with a bandage. And whenever he were to gaze upon it with the ruffling of his robes, he would stop in his actions as a great pang of nausea hit him, mind numbing with the echoes of the screams reverberating in his ears. She would be there to cast a quick vanishing spell, one which would temporarily make his skin a perfect pale, no scars, no reminders.

He wished his skin would stay like that forever, but he it wasn't how it was meant to be. He hadn't covered his skin so he could fight the nightmares, fight the memories and his demons which threatened to crawl out any moment, he needed to face them, it was the price he had to pay, for the rest of his life. He would forever try to escape the haunting memories which threatened to break his mind, but there was no choice. He wanted to be strong, he wanted to be heard, he wanted to be normal, once more.

With the companionship of the granger, always giving him a reassuring glance whenever he acted even a bit off, he was grateful. She was sharp, and would not miss if he accidentally his hand would flinch as another memory came to pass while taking notes in class, messing up his notes. She would not miss as sometimes he would close his eyes, blocking out the world, thinking of deeper darker things. She would not miss how sometimes he missed his step and almost fell, she would not miss any false movement. In another life he would have been annoyed her sharpness, ask her to mind her own business, ask her to leave him alone, but right now he knew he needed it: her attention. He felt good not hiding somethings from the people around him. It felt good to just be who he was (it was still a mystery unsolved, but he was making progress) and not hide, not carry the burden of a giant task, not hiding his weaknesses for the fear of the dark lord or for the fear of anyone. It was alright if she saw him struggle, she would pocket the memory in a corner of her mind, not revealing a word, something that existed only between the two of them.

Same as her though, he would watch her closely as well. He would watch as sometimes her otherwise steady hand shook with every word she wrote, how sometimes when a professor was asking a question she would not raise her hand even if she knew the answer. How, sometimes her eyes would glaze over and she would put her hand under her jaw, staring into no weher and not pay attention to what the professor was saying; all of this happening for the whiff of a moment before her mind regained control and she went back to being the ever resilient Hermione granger. It was little things like these that gave away her persona, little things too unnoticeable for anyone, unless they were watching closely. Just like him, she didn't mind when he shifted beside her, moving only the fraction of an inch so he could set his steady gaze upon her and told her it would be okay (he did not know for sure either, but it felt good to reassure someone, he could almost make himself believe so too, almost). She did not mind when sometimes he would see the dropping of a lone tear which she would quickly wipe away. However, what bothered her most was when the shifting of her robes bared the pale bandage of her arm, concealing dark events of a day they both remembered all too well. Whenever his gaze landed upon the bandage, his face would darken, his features would crease, his eyes going from being the grey of a storm to an almost black. Hermione could not tell sometimes if the scar haunted her more, or the boy sitting beside her. She would not waste a second in covering up. She needed to work on it though, she was getting sloppier.

And so the weeks rolled in, from summer to fall to the tiny particles of sprinkled snow covering every bared thing, and they found confiding in each other for better, and for worse.

The first time he spoke to her, he could not remember why, but it was one rainy day in potions when they were made partners for a difficult potion they had to brew. Her hair was wilder, dampened from the walks across the gardens in the light drizzle, they became uncontrollable. It was that day she looked a bit happier than most, if happy were the right word to use anyway. Both of them were, contrary to belief, were actually enjoying making the 'difficult' potion. Working in perfect harmony, their silent coordination a giant asset which the rest of the class did not possess. In the short time they had spent in each other's company, both of them became fairly aware of how the others mind worked, they could tell what each could do best and moved onto their tasks. It was a silent world they lived in, but it was a silence of them needed. Silence spoke louder than words, and the silence that surrounded them like a shroud, it contained all the unsaid secrets, the horrors, along with the encouragement, the reassurance, the likeliness, the forgiveness. It conveyed all that needed to be said, and nothing escaped their small company. It was perfect, and they did not need anything more.

It was on that day Draco was amazed by how far they had come, though neither was any close to getting over their living nightmares, both of them had found consolation in each other's presence. It surprised him that life had taken such a turn, they who were enemies before, now working together perfectly. The potion they had made was 'absolutely perfect', as stated by professor Slughorn himself with the proud and cheeky smile of his. It amazed Draco, how the two with such intertwining pasts, both leading to the destruction of what they loved had led them to each other, finding themselves in a different light, in a different world than they had known. How, two individuals who hated each other with such vigor now worked together as if they had their entire lives, although the actuality had been the entire opposite. He felt a giant surge of gratitude, amazement and a tiny amount of joy. It was that day that they had left potions both with slight smiles on their faces. And it was that day he moved over his hand to hers, not because she needed it and neither because he did too, but just for the sake of it. She stopped right in her tracks as he did so, and leaned over to her and whispered, "Thank you. For everything." He walked right off in front of her, stopping when he saw she was not with him, and turned to face her questioningly. He stiffened posture relaxed as he saw her face break into a shy smile, growing into one of the larger, jaw breaking ones. It was then, that after what seemed like an eternity, he did the same. He did something he hadn't quite done before, and smiled. A true, genuine smile that lifted his features, and for a moment as both of them stood there they forget their sorrows, truly and completely happy.

It was a ground breaking moment for the both of them.

•••

Short chapter and an early update because I don't know when I'll be able to update next. The next is a busy week and I'm not sure if I'll be able to update on time, or at all. But don't lose hope, I'll be back soon. :)
This story is not on hold or hiatus.
Till then, enjoy :)
All the love xx