Draco felt, and likely looked, like a living corpse.
His eyes burned from the effort of keeping them open and the amount of energy it took for him to open the jar of lacewing flies was utterly pathetic.
Draco was just so tired. Tired of eating, tired of pretending, tired of being tired. If only sleep would remedy his exhaustion, however, he was locked in an endless loop every night where he was forced to watch his biggest regrets, and biggest mistakes be made over and over and over again.
The punishment fit the crimes, he supposed.
He had been awake for three days straight, something he was quite certain was impossible until now. It was a reprieve from the nightmares, yes. However, he was so close to snapping that even he was afraid of the destruction he would likely leave in his wake.
"Mate," Blaise murmured to his left, caution dripping from the word.
Draco looked to his best friend and his stomach cramped from the worry he saw swim in his eyes. The same eyes that looked from Draco to his hands. His now empty hands.
It was only then that Draco felt the eyes of his classmates drilling into him and the suffocating silence that filled the room. Draco then looked down at his hands which had previously held the jar of lacewing flies and registered the shattered glass and his now bleeding hands.
Draco didn't feel a thing, not even when he flexed his hands, digging the glass deeper into his flesh with every twitch of movement.
A voice cut through the deafening silence, "Mr. Zabini, would you please escort Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary-"
"No need," Draco's voice cut through Professor Slughorn's shaky voice, "I'm quite capable of navigating the castle."
"My boy-"
Heat, scorching heat erupted in Draco's body so fiercely that there was nothing to stop him from biting out, "Don't call me that."
He was no one's boy. No one's son. He had betrayed, lied, and killed. He was no child, he was a monster.
"Draco," He glanced up to see Pansy tilting her head towards the doorway, urging him towards the infirmary, "Please."
Draco swallowed but was unsuccessful at removing the lump in his throat and the pulsing wave of emotion from his chest. He was spiraling, and he needed to get out of here before all the eighth years of Gryffindor and Slytherin witnessed it.
He pushed away from the table, dropping his hands casually to his sides as if blood didn't drip steadily from his fingertips as he strode toward the doorway, his signature smirk slung across his face.
Never let them see you bleed, Lucius had told him once, and if they do, act as if you did it on purpose. Malfoys never make mistakes.
Well, Father, he thought, I hope you're proud.
Draco laughed without a hint of humor as he glanced at his hands. It was only fitting, his hands were already covered in everyone else's blood.
He was nearly at the end of the corridor when he finally registered the slight tap of footsteps behind him and he bit his lip to suppress a groan.
"Pansy I swear to Salazar-" Draco abruptly stopped mid-turn when he found the owner of the footsteps.
"Granger?"
Oh hell no, he thought, please not her, let me self-destruct in front of anyone else but her.
Granger merely ignored him, her wand directed at the ground as she mumbled, "Tergeo." The fucking cleaning spell. It appeared she'd been cleaning the pools of blood he'd left behind since the potions classroom.
She pointedly looked at the growing puddles at my feet before meeting my eyes, "You really should be holding your hands palms up, it's a long walk to the infirmary, you might risk passing out from blood loss."
It was purely from natural instinct that his smirk twitched into place, "I figured you'd find that something to be worth celebrating, Granger."
Her eyes narrowed at that, and if Draco was correct he thought he'd seen a flash of hurt in her eyes as well, "Ally or enemy, I've seen enough blood to last me a lifetime. I would've thought you'd think the same."
She lowered her pointed glance back to his dripping hands as if saying, clearly not.
His breath hitched at the accusation in a way he hoped no one ever noticed before taking a step back and gesturing to the blood spots he'd left, "You missed a spot."
No. No, no, no, he chanted to himself, stop, stop now before you say something you'll regret.
Granger breathed out a half laugh, half scoff before casting the spell to clean the floor, "You should find a better coping mechanism than being an arsehole, Malfoy. It's unbecoming."
Feeling began to return to Draco's body, and the radiating pain in his hands was a welcoming, grounding bite in his mind. The pain, however, did nothing but ignite his instinct to lash out.
You'll only convince her you're the monster she thinks you are, a voice pleaded somewhere in the depths of his mind. It was quickly overwhelmed by another voice, driven blindly by fear and anger, Then I'll become the monster she thinks I am.
"At least I own up to my mistakes. I know I'm an arse, but at least I'm not pretending I'm some Gryffindor princess who helped save the world. You may have helped kill Voldemort but you killed on that battlefield. You can act as innocent as you want, but your hands are just as bloody as mine. So you'd better stop fucking pretending to be perfect, Granger. Because you may have helped people but you hurt twice as many."
It was a low blow, many low blows, in fact. Draco immediately regretted them as they left his lips, recognizing his own insecurities reflected in the words he'd thrown at the bushy-haired brunette standing a few steps away from him.
Draco had watched every flinch his words had produced from her, each time it felt like a knife had run him through and twisted at the same time.
She drove such emotion from him. She always had, ever since they were young. It was what terrified him about her. She was so good it was impossible for Draco to hate her, so instead she made her hate him.
It made him a coward, no doubt, but at least this way he could admire her from afar without having to worry about ever acting on his emotions that ran wild whenever she was around.
He knew he should take it all back, should do anything to have repaired any damage he'd inflicted in her mind, but he was too prideful, too caught up in his game he'd been playing with her since they were eleven.
Granger was too calm. The only sign she was angry was the shaking of her hand before he watched it curl into a fist.
Now, Draco had been punched in the face by Hermione Granger before, but he'd apparently forgotten how good her right hook was.
He quickly remembered.
Fresh blood spurted from his nose following a sickening crack as his nose turned to a new angle.
"Bloody hell," Draco exclaimed, his hands going to cup his nose before he realized his hands were both bloody and covered with bits of glass.
Granger's jaw was clenched so hard he was sure she'd snap a tendon as she lifted a menacing finger to jab into his chest as she seethed, "Careful, Malfoy. Be very careful. I made a promise to McGonagall that I'd be civil. I came back this year to try to make things right. I will not be your target for your emotional outbursts."
Granger saw the apprehension that blanketed Draco's face at her too-accurate words and she let out a terrifying chuckle in response.
"That's right. I see right through your tough-guy act. You're terrified, you're guilty, and you're so scared of your actions that you have to lash out at me just to give yourself a second reprieve from telling yourself you're the bad guy that you are."
Granger backed up a step, whether to restrain herself from punching him again or for another reason, Draco didn't know.
"I won't pretend to understand what you went through during the war, Malfoy. Don't pretend to understand what I went through either," Granger ran a hand through her hair in exasperation, "You can be mad at the world- I certainly am- but you will not direct your animosity towards me. I'm trying to give you a second chance here, Malfoy. So bloody take it."
"Let's go!" she called over her shoulder as she marched down the corridor, her hair and school robes flying behind her.
Draco easily caught up to her since his stride was nearly twice the size of hers and he managed to grit out, "You don't have to come with me."
She cast another spell on the blood trail he'd left and huffed, "I broke your nose, I'm coming with to satisfy my own conscience."
Those were the last words the two spoke on the walk to the infirmary unless you count the murmured casting of the wiping spell Hermione cast as they went.
Draco was too shocked and impressed to feel the weight of his self-depreciation that was sure to crash down on him the second she left.
I'm trying to give you a second chance here, Malfoy.
Draco had never asked for a second chance. He'd done a phenomenal job convincing himself he wasn't worthy of one, so he'd never longed for one either.
But-
But a second chance in Hermione Granger's eyes may just be the most tempting thing ever waved in front of Draco's face.
• • •
"How did you cut your hands?"
"I dropped a glass jar."
"Mhm, and the nose?"
Draco slid his eyes over to Granger, who smirked, "He did it to himself. I don't know what came over him."
Draco bit his lip to hold in his retort, settling instead for a glare directed at Granger.
"Is that quite right?" Madam Pomfrey raised a skeptical eyebrow before dropping her gaze to Granger's split knuckles, "No matter, both are quick fixes. Thank you for your help in getting him here, Miss. Granger, you may return to class if you wish. I'll just run to get some fresh bandages."
Madam Pomfrey hurried away, Draco's gaze still directed at Granger. Only, he wasn't glaring as whole-heartedly, his full attention on her lips spread in a brilliant, self-satisfied grin.
She swung her gaze and grin toward Draco before standing, smoothing out her uniform.
Draco's eyes locked on her split knuckles, "You should have her heal that."
Granger frowned at him in confusion before following his glance to her hand. She lifted it closer to her face, examining it.
"From yelling at me in a corridor to being concerned over a few cuts already scabbed over on my hand," she frowned, "You sure you're not bipolar Malfoy?"
Draco didn't respond to the jab, his attention still fixed on her hand.
Granger huffed at this, taking his concern as an insult apparently, "Let's not forget whose in a bed being treated for a broken nose. Again."
She tucked her wand into her robes and didn't meet his eyes as she said, "Try not to get yourself beat up or killed before tomorrow night, we have rounds to do and I'm not taking any pathetic excuses from you."
With that, she left and Draco threw his head back into his pillow as his mind began tearing himself apart.