The hot stream felt like a medicine to Malfoy's exhausted body. He felt weak. His hands were still shaking from the inhuman amount of the Cruciatus Curse he endured from the Dark Lord. He was tortured by the wizard before for his failures, but that time it was too much.
Malfoy knew, that Voldemort despised it when his followers showed any sign of weakness. That was the main reason why Malfoy wouldn't allow himself to cry, scream nor beg for forgiveness during the torture. Even though he was that close to dying. At one point he felt like his heartbeat became slower and intermittent. He knew, that it was thanks to Granger that he was still alive. Or sane. He felt like that spider back in their fourth year. The one that Moody, or Crouch, had brought to their class and performed the Unforgivables at the poor creature. That time Granger couldn't stand the Cruciatus Curse either and cried for the arachnid in front of the whole class. That time Draco had laughed at her for her reaction.
It was her face and her voice that helped him fight for so long. Voldemort was a cruel man. He would crucio him until he would loose his mind or life. It didn't matter to the Dark wizard. He didn't care about his beloved Death Eaters. The only thing he cared about was power. Malfoy knew that. Everybody did.
After Granger pleaded for his life Malfoy had to gather all of his remaining strength in order to stood up and to took his place behind his master's back. He was too close to fainting in front of everyone. But he knew, that it would mean his immediate death. So he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and straightened his back.
It surprised him when Voldemort invited Granger to join him by his side. The Dark Lord was an unpredictable man. His actions were always well calculated and thought through. But he never treated someone like he was worth his presence. Not even his closest 'friends'.
What was more shocking though, was Granger's reaction to the Dark Lord's proximity. She didn't flinched at his touch nor she looked appalled by it. On the contrary. She looked calm and relaxed. It was a strange thing to witness. He always thought, that the young witch was disgusted by Voldemort's appearance. But that night proved him wrong. Either that or she was an absolutely excellent actress.
He wasn't able to concentrate on anything that had happened in the fortress that night. His body was screaming at him with exhaustion and his brain was still clouded by the hangover. He couldn't concentrate on reports from the other Death Eaters. The only things he was able to perceive were his sore self and Granger's calming presence. Every time he looked at her that night a dose of peace eased his mind. He didn't know why. It probably had something to do with her magic inside of him. He often felt the urge to be close to her. To feel her presence. To hear her breathing. It was like a balm to his nerves.
But every time he got close to her she pushed him away. And he understood why. But he wished she wouldn't.
He ran his hands through his hair one more time under the streaming water before he turned it off. He sighed and stepped out of the shower. He took a peek at his reflection in the mirror. A pale face, with dark circles under eyes and scar across his chest stared back at him. He hated how beaten he looked these days. Despite his built up muscles he felt weak. On the verge of collapsing. He wanted out of that war. He wanted to ran away and start a new life somewhere else. Anywhere else. But he knew he couldn't.
So instead of dreaming about his unattainable goals he pushed himself from the basin and walked to his wardrobe.
Normally he would put on only a pyjama pants and nothing more. He often felt like he would suffocate when he slept due to his nightmares, so he wore as little clothes as possible during the night.
But he knew that Granger was going through a breakdown right now, even though he didn't know why, and walking around her with his Dark Mark glowing on his porcelain skin could cause even more damage. So he took a plain black T-shirt with long sleeves from his wardrobe as well and pulled it down over his head.
When he reentered his room again he found her in the same position as before. Her eyes were still opened, staring blankly at random spot on the bed. She seemed small and fragile. Even though he knew she wasn't. She was a fighter. A true lioness. She could be the fire itself. But that night something had happened to her. And it broke her confidence.
"Do you want something for nerves? A dreamless potion or calming draught perhaps?" He carefully suggested.
The only answer he received from the witch was a slight shook of her head and quiet sniffle.
He ran a hand through his damp hair. "Fine, if you change your mind call Tinky. I'll be crashing in one of the guest rooms." He turned around and started walking away when he heard an almost inaudible noise.
"Stay." She whispered softly.
He turned back to face her. She was lying on the bed, unmoving. For a moment he even contemplated if she really said it, or if it was his imagination. But then she whispered once more. And that time he saw her mouth moving.
"I don't want to be alone."
He awkwardly coughed and looked around the room. "Alright." He nodded. "I'll arrange a place for me to sleep on." He took his wand out of his pocket.
"No." A weak voice echoed from the bed again.
He glanced at the witch with confusion. She was still as unmoving as statue.
"Do you want me to sleep on the ground like a dog I am, Granger?" He smirked.
She wiped her nose but otherwise didn't react to his bad joke. "You can lay down next to me." She whispered.
Malfoy lifted his eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
He watched her as she hazily nodded and shuffled herself to the very edge of the large bed.
He hesitated for a moment but then he sighed with resignation and took the place at the other side of the bed. He transfigured one of the books on his nightstand to another blanket and covered his legs with it.
"I can feel my magic from you." She said softly. "It's...calming."
She laid so low at the bed that he was only able to see the top of her head, still covered by the cape of her strange cloak.
So it wasn't only his imagination that her magic drew them together. She felt it too.
He reached out his hand to stroke her head, but he changed his mind at the last second. Only a moments ago she begged him not to touch her without her consent. And he didn't want to cause her anymore distress. So instead he laid his hand an inch from her face, palm upwards.
Malfoy's hand landed in front of her face. She watched it silently for a few minutes. She was absolutely drawn to his proximity. The presence of her magic was unmistakable. She felt peace and calmness. She felt home.
The urge to touch him was tempting. She moved her own hand closer to his. Her fingers rested only a breath away from his skin.
His fingers were slightly shaking and they twitched from time to time. She remembered him being tortured earlier that night. She saw him fight the Cruciatus Curse like a true soldier. He was so different from the spoiled boy she once knew. If it weren't for the platinum hair, stormy eyes and mischievous smirk she wouldn't even recognise the man. "You were brave tonight. When you were tortured." She admitted aloud.
Malfoy loudly scoffed but otherwise kept silent.
"I wish I could say the same thing about me." She gently whispered.
"What happened, Granger?" He asked cautiously, but she didn't respond.
For another couple of minutes they just laid in silence, watching their hands resting next to each other.
"Why did you came to my room earlier?" Hermione broke the silence first.
Malfoy turned to his side, facing the witch next to him. "Rabastan had an accident tonight. We don't know what happened to him exactly, but he died. I just wanted to know if it had anything to do with you?"
"Why with me?" She glanced at him. He was watching her with contemplative face.
After a few seconds he shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. "Well it's not a secret that you weren't really fond of the Lestrange family. And after Rabastan was hitting on you the other night...I just thought that you could know something. But Rabastan hitting on someone wasn't anything special. I mean...the man was an absolute beast. He would fuck anything with a hole within his radius. It got even worse after he was locked in Azkaban for such a long time. I mean...fifteen years without human touch can entirely fuck with a male brain." He continued lightly. "He even tried it on me when I was younger for Salazar's sake." He chuckled mischievously at the memory. "If it wasn't for my aunt Bella, I would probably be another notch over his bed. Fortunately for me, my beloved auntie wouldn't let her only nephew to be assaulted by her brother-in-law. She rescued my innocence like I was some damsel in distress and he didn't dare to touch me ever again. I'm not saying that I was a virgin or something like that at the time. But some parts of my body are still untainted, if you know what I mean."
Hermione watched him silently the whole time. His gaze fell down to hers one more time and his smirk disappeared. "Sorry, I'm exhausted. I'm probably talking nonsense."
"It's okay." She offered him the most modest smile before she looked back at their almost touching hands once more. Her mind drifted away to the image of Malfoy in their fifth year looking proud and carefree. Nobody knew what was happening to him when he wasn't in the safe zone that Hogwarts once represented. The horrors he could endure after Voldemort's resurrection. Surrounded by the Death Eaters, werewolves and other evil creatures that Voldemort recruited. Maybe his childhood wasn't as rainbowy as she had imagined.
.
.
.
Malfoy woke up later that day to an empty bed. He glanced around the room but Hermione was gone. He rested his head back onto the pillow. That was the second time they had slept in the same bed. It was also the second time in a long time that he was able to sleep for at least six hours straight. It was refreshing.
It didn't take long before an unmistakable pain cut through his forearm. He groaned but got up from his bed without hesitation. He knew that he couldn't afford to be late to his master's calling.
.
.
.
Hermione woke up in a strange bed with strange sounds echoing from the other side of it. She laid still for the next several couple of minutes, listening to Malfoy's even breathing, inhaling his significant smell from the pillow. It felt calming...nice even.
She spared a glance at the sleeping wizard by her side. He laid on his back with one hand across his forehead. His chest was moving rhythmically up and down and his lips were slightly apart. Every now and then his fingers twitched from the sleep.
That was the second time she had watched him sleep. It was also the second time that she could admit how gorgeous he was when he was relaxed. A true patrician. The sharp contours of his face contrasted with his soft looking lips.
Her eyes wandered down over his long neck, hard collarbones protruding under his T-shirt, muscled chest altogether with flat stomach, a bit of porcelain skin showing above the hem of his pants, and oh...oh. Too low Hermione. Her eyes snapped from his inappropriately tight pants back to his face. Merlin he is attractive. She thought. Why do he has to be so attractive? Well more like...Why he has to be a bloody Death Eater? Well...Why he has to be...Malfoy.
She sighed and then carefully slipped down from the shared bed. A missing warmth from the thick blanket made her body shiver. She tiptoed to the door and took a last quick glance at the man before she slid out through the opening.
Once she was in her bathroom, she finally jerked off the heavy cloak off her shoulders and looked in the mirror on the wall. Her eyes were puffy, lips swollen and cheeks flushed from the amount of tears she had shed earlier. Her eyes dropped to her purple wrists, bruised from the ropes. Suddenly she could feel Rabastan's clammy hands and his hot breath on her skin again. She shivered with disgust at the memory of him inside of her and ripped off the rest of her clothes. Her lips trembled as she spotted the dark fingerprints covering her legs. She sniffed and propped up her chin. She was determined not to waste another tear because of that man...that animal. He already took enough from her. He wasn't worth her time, her energy nor her tears.
She squared her shoulders and looked directly into the reflection of her own eyes. Now Hermione, stop being a sissy. None of this is your fault. Gather your pride, your courage, stop sulking over your bruised body, you had looked worse. Just step into that shower, scrub away every inch of your skin, every memory of his beastly touch, and keep your head high. This is not the end of the world. You won't let this...incident affect you. You are stronger than this. You can do that. And without further ado, she slipped into her shower and scrubbed her thighs until her skin turned crimson.
Despite the warm weather outside. Hermione stuffed herself into a pair of long, flowing trousers and a knitted jumper. She didn't want anyone glaring at the remnants of the other night covering her body.
Hermione decided to grant a visit to the manor's library. She hadn't spent much time there during her stay. The idea of reading about magic without being able to use it was unsettling. But maybe she could find something light to read there as well. Some novel or poetry perhaps?
She settled down in one of the alcoves under the large window with a romance book. She sipped her tea out of a ridiculously large mug as she let herself fall for the main protagonist of the story.
And that's how Pansy found her. Nose buried in the book, eyes a little glossy from the particularly emotional part of the story, her hair disheveled from the constant tugging. She was far away in another universe when the other witch approached her.
"Hi." She said carefully, watching Hermione slowly lift her head from the book.
"Hi." Hermione replied shyly.
"May I join you today?" Pansy asked.
Hermione silently nodded and tucked her legs under her body, so the other girl could sat in the alcove as well. Only after she settle down Hermione realised, that Pansy was close, too close. And it made her uncomfortable. She shimmied a little far, pressing herself into the wall.
"How are you?" The concern on Pansy's face was obvious.
Hermione coughed awkwardly. "I'm fine." She plastered a half smile across her face.
Pansy sighed. "Theo said that..."
"I'm fine, Pansy. Really." Hermione snapped at her, maybe too harshly.
Pansy pursed her lips and nodded. "Fine." She said. It sounded like she was more sad than upset.
A few seconds of silence passed by when Hermione stared blankly somewhere in the room and Pansy watched her unmoving features.
"Hermione," the use of her given name brought Hermione back to reality. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm here..." Pansy rested a hand on Hermione's knee. The reaction was immediate. Hermione followed the slender hand with her eyes. She tried to stay calm, but the urge of jerking away from the touch was stronger and she shot up from the alcove.
Pansy pulled off her hand immediately and rested it in her lap. She watched as Hermione leaned awkwardly against the side of the nearest bookshelf and hugged herself tightly with her own arms. Her gaze was fixed on her shoes and she was slightly trembling. One of her fists was closing and opening restlessly.
"Sorry." Hermione muttered under her breath.
"It's okay." Pansy sighed again.
Hermione peeked at the other witch from underneath her eyelashes and she saw it. She saw the unmistakable look on Pansy's neat face. The look that only a woman can give to another woman. The look of understanding. The look of sympathy, but not pity. The look of shared pain, but not fright. She saw the heartbreak in her eyes, the sorrow in her clenched jaw and the grief in her trembling nose. There wasn't any need for saying another word. Pansy understood. She might not knew what exactly had happened to her, but she understood the hard side of being a woman. And that was enough in that exact moment. That was all Hermione needed. Someone who could understand without demanding answers out of her. Someone who knew the struggle of womanhood. Someone who endured the feeling of being seen as an object. Someone who knew what being defenceless meant. She needed an understanding of another woman. And she had found it in a face of her former bully.
For the next several hours the two witches just hung out in the library, each of them had her own book in hands and they would occasionally pitpointed particularly interesting points in the stories. They sat at the opposite sides of alcove, their feet almost touching, but Pansy made sure that they would never collide.
It wasn't long after lunch when the door bursted open and the owner of the Manor marched in. Pansy spared him a questioning glance, but he only nodded towards the black haired witch.
"Granger," he barked. "The Dark Lord requests your audience."
Hermione's eyes stayed fixed on the lines in her book. She couldn't look more unbothered even if she would try. "Tell him that I had politely declined."
The frown on Malfoy's face caused him a deep wrinkles. "It wasn't a question. Just get up and come with me." He said a little more impatiently, tapping his boot on the ground.
Hermione still hadn't look up at the man. She calmly turned the page in the book and continued reading. "No, Malfoy." She said firmly. "I said no. And no means no. Even if you Death Eaters clearly don't understand what that word means." The last sentence she mumbled more to herself.
"For fuck's sake, Granger!" He snapped at her. "Why do you have to always make everything difficult! Stop being a stubborn child! You will come with me if you like it or not! I can dr.."
"Drag me by my hair, Malfoy?" Hermione asked calmly without looking at him. "Don't you have a more creative threat?"
Malfoy huffed angrily. He took a few seconds before responding. "Well, I can always imperio you to make a pretty little obedient bitch from you. Maybe you could even bark for us."
Even that didn't cause Hermione to crack her unbothered behaviour. "Fuck you, Malfoy."
That simple sentence threw Malfoy off his feet. He groaned and stormed towards the annoying girl like an angry bull. "I will fucking..."
"Draco!" Pansy yelled and his head snapped towards her.
"What!?" He snapped.
Pansy shook her head. "Stop it." She said firmly.
"Mind your own business, woman." He brushed her off.
Pansy stood up and stationed herself between him and Hermione. She took a defensive position and crossed her arms over her chest. "This is my business!" She glared angrily at her lover. "Leave her alone. She doesn't want to come."
He bared his teeth at her. "She doesn't have a choice, Pansy. Now, stand out of my way."
"Just tell him that she doesn't feel well." She tried to shrug him off.
He rolled his eyes at her suggestion. "You don't know what it's like to disobey his order, Pans. He'll have my head for this. I still hadn't recover from yesterday." He tried to reason with the stubborn witch.
"Be a man, Draco." That was her only response. Cold as ice.
He pointed a finger on her chest and drawled angrily, his voice deep and slow. "You are a fucking cunt, Pansy."
The witch shrugged. "That's what you've always liked about me." She said nonchalantly.
He huffed half a laugh half a groan, his gaze dropped at Hermione's stonewall expression. After a few seconds he turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Alone. "Pair of lunatics." He mumbled under his breath.
Pansy exhaled and stared at the receding silhouette of the man.
"Thank you." Hermione whispered softly.
"Let's just hope," the other girl whispered, "that he won't kill him for that. For all of ours sakes." Her voice was a little shaky.
Maybe I should have go with him. Hermione thought for herself. "Have you told him already?" She asked aloud.
Pansy turned to her with a confused expression.
"That you love him?" Hermione added after a moment of silence.
Pansy searched for something in the other girl's eyes. "I don't want to talk about it, Hermione." She said finally before dropping back into the alcove.
.
.
.
"Draco!" Voldemort exclaimed after the blonde wizard before him dropped to his knees.
"My Lord." He replied respectfully, trying to hide how terrified he truly felt. If Draco was a dog, his tail would be tightly tucked between his legs and his ears would hang down.
In his entire life, he only feared three people more than his father. His crazy aunt, her brother-in-law and the Dark Lord. Two of them were now dead, but the latter one remained and he was far more frightening than anything else Draco had known. Especially when he didn't get what he wanted.
That's why Draco's head was bent down, almost touching the floor and his palms were sweaty. He waited like that, feared the wrath of his master.
"I see that you've returned alone." The Dark Lord observed from his throne-like seat.
"Unfortunately, my Lord. She was..." he wasn't given a chance to finish his excuse before the spell hit him. But, to his surprise, it wasn't pain that he felt. No. It was something else. Something really uncomfortable, but not exactly painful. And then it striked him. The Dark Lord was in his head. He used Legillimency instead of expected Cruciatus Curse.
Draco's relief was short lived when the previous conversation between him, Granger and Pansy replied itself in his own head. He didn't like putting his friends in danger and he feared, that the Dark Lord could punish not just him, but Pansy as well. After all it was mostly her fault, that Granger wasn't standing there by his side at that moment. Draco had learned in a very young age, that fighting with Pansy led exactly nowhere. The witch was the most stubborn creature he had ever met and he wasn't willing to use violence against his best friend. Even though she was an absolute pain in his ass. He knew that she would rather hex him than retreat from their fight. He had experienced it firsthand before.
The Dark Lord watched the scene with interest before he dug even deeper into Malfoy's memories. He watched the fight between him and Granger the other night as well as them sleeping in the same bed afterwards. He watched as Draco had taken care of Granger's countless injuries, their infinite fighting, him carrying Granger in his arms when she was hurt, him interrupting her midst her bath, him staring at her clothed in the minidress when he had thought, that nobody was watching him. He also took interest in the previous interactions between Granger and Theo that Draco had witnessed. They shared laughter, secretive conversations and cryptic glances over the dining table. He skipped through his memories back and forth effortlessly. He even took a peek at Granger's school appearance in Draco's head. After what felt like an hours, but were probably just a few minutes, the Dark Lord felt satisfied with his searching and retreated from Draco's head.
The return to reality felt strange, unnatural. Yet Draco was glad, that that part was finally behind him. Only torture awaited him for his incapability.
But the Dark Lord surprised the young man once more when he hummed, nodded his head and leaned against the back of his seat. "Take your place, marshal. We have a lot of work ahead of us."
Draco's eyes shot wide open, but he said nothing. He just simply stood up and let his legs to carry him automatically behind his master's back.