_
hermione knew the second she saw it, she wouldn't be able to forget. if any proof that her theories were correct came to light she didn't know what she'd do. however the proof came to light but it was completely accidental.
she had left her wand in the bathroom just after she finished her shower. so, thinking it was empty, she walked in without knocking.
draco stood in nothing but his pyjama pants. he was poking at a rapidly forming bruise on his chest—just under his ribs, in fact. even though she couldn't see his back hermione could see some scars on his side—some thin and white, others thick, jagged and... new. but that isn't possible. they haven't laid a hand on him.
unless... maybe they were forming because back when draco was really six, when he was the precise age he is now back in the eighties, these marks are what his father had been inflicting and they were appearing on his body because—because he's been reverted back to his younger self with his younger selves memories and...
"draco," she gasped, quickly falling to her knees in front of him. his head snapped up to her and his eyes widened, suddenly afriad. "draco..."
she reached out to hold him, but he stepped away just as quickly as she fell to her knees. "don't touch me!" he cried, searching for his grey shirt.
hermione felt the tears well up in her eyes. so she was correct, huh? she didn't need confirmation to know that it was lucius malfoy doing all this. well, did do all of this. did he still do it up until lucius killed himself? did draco silently put up with it—maybe it's why he's so untrusting. the person he's supposed to trust unconditionally hurt him—but why?
"your father did this," hermione stated. "how long has he been doing this, draco?"
"fathers not here," draco suddenly defended, finding his shirt. "he can't have done it. they just... appeared."
"you haven't answered my question, draco," hermione whispered, reaching out to touch him. he flinched away again.
"fathers just... sad. he doesn't mean to!" draco expressed, pulling the shirt over his head. it was dark grey and full sleeved, hiding all his scars. "and it stops him from touching hyperion!"
hermione just wanted to cry. it was obvious draco didn't do it enough and—she was raised in a loving environment. the thought of parents abusing their children never crossed her mind because, in her personal experience, she'd never come across a family like that. however he's draco malfoy, someone she's known for seven, almost eight years and it turns out he's been abused for half his life. it must have been terrible if it turned him into the careless being he is at eighteen.
"draco, sweetheart," she started slowly, hoping harry was here to help her. "your father... he hurts you. you can't defend him. why does he do it?"
"he's sad," draco repeated harshly. "ever since mother died—he's been sad. he's sad because she's gone and he's sad because i couldn't protect her."
"you were there?" hermione gasped. did he really watch his mother die?
draco nodded slowly. "we were at diagon alley. we were pulled into an alleyway. they knocked me out so i didn't see much and i woke up in st mungos two days later. i should have been stronger than that and mother would have lived."
hermione shook her head. "you couldn't have done anything, draco. it's your fathers fault. he shouldn't—he shouldn't take it out on you. no matter the circumstances. why don't you tell anyone?"
draco looked down at his feet. "father says... he says he'll hurt hyperion if i tell anyone."
"your father can't hurt you anymore," she assured him, gently holding onto draco. "do those scars and bruises hurt?"
draco nodded. "yes."
"do you know why you have these bruises?" hermione asked.
draco nodded. "father—he was drinking again. that's how i got this bruise." he lifted up his shirt so the black-blue patch under his ribs were visible. "the marks on my back—they were for different things. like keeping him waiting or not doing something correctly. it changes."
she heard shuffling from behind her. hermione knew that harry had seen what was going on before she heard the sharp gasp or the "what the fuck."
draco's eyes widened then he tried to pull his shirt down but hermione stopped him. she felt harry kneel down next to her and his own hand came up to touch the bruise. however, draco had successfully managed to pull his shirt down and push past the two of them, throwing them both to the floor in his haste. hermione watched as draco ran out the bathroom and not a second later she heard his bedroom door slam shut. she even heard a lock click.
"what was that?" harry breathed from next to her. "where'd he get that bruise? hermione, what the fuck—"
"i was right," hermione whispered, a tear slipping out of her eye. "i was fucking right, harry."
"what do you mean?" harry asked frantically. "why were you right? hermione—"
"lucius did it," she answered, wiping away the tear. "it's—lucius abused draco when he was alive. i'm not sure for how long but it started when narcissa malfoy died. lucius blamed draco for her death. draco even blamed himself.
"he said that his father was sad—and he drinks, well, drank," hermione carried on, licking her chapped lips. "his bruises—he's been reverted back to his six year old self, harry. at the precise age he is now, that's what was happening to him. twelve years ago to this day. he remembered why because—because he has all his memories—"
"how does that work?" harry asked as he slowly stood up. hermione followed his lead. "if he remembers that yet we are with him right now—"
"i don't know," hermione breathed, "but i do think we have to ask professor ellis."
they were quiet as they exited the bathroom, hermione's wand clenched tightly in her hand. she couldn't believe it. she didn't want to believe it.
"we didn't even fucking notice," harry muttered from next to her. "we should have noticed something—"
"harry," hermione cut in once again. "we couldn't have. by the time we started hogwarts he knew how to hide it well. very well, in fact. all that matters is that we know now and while there might be nothing to do to prevent the bruises that will inevitably appear until he's eighteen again, we have to make sure he's not in any pain and he has to know that we're here for him."
"painless potion?"
hermione nodded. "i know how to make it. actually, i think i have some phials in my room."
"i won't even ask," harry replied. "you go get them, i'll wait here."
hermione rolled her eyes. "accio painless potion and dreamless sleep potion," she said loud and clearly. the two separate phial flew into her outstretched hand, labelled accordingly. "sometimes you forget we have magic, harry."
harry followed hermione as she knocked lightly on draco's door. there was nothing coming from the other side—no sounds, no 'leave me alone' or 'go away'. if hermione was completely honest she was scared. she waved her wand and the door unlocked.
she pushed it open enough to peek inside. draco sat on his bed reading a thin book—the tales of beetle the bard, it looked like. six year old draco malfoy could read books like that?
she entered the room with harry following behind her. "you can read?"
"yes, can't you?" draco shot back, flicking the page over. hermione heard harry snicker next to her.
"a little too much according to everyone," she answered, noting his walls—how can a six year old have defence walls? she can understand why eighteen year old draco has them—hell, maybe even eleven year old draco. but six year old him? it must be a very tragic childhood.
she held up the two potions. "we won't grill you anymore about your father today, draco. here's a painless potion," she held it up accordingly, "and this ones a dreamless sleep. if you are to use them, use the painless one before the dreamless sleep," she explained as she sat them on the bedside table.
"what are you reading?" harry asked.
draco shrugged. "the tale of a lazy little witch."
"i prefer the three brothers," harry said, making hermione roll her eyes. it was the only story he read from the book.
"i'm tired," draco muttered. he eyed the two of them. hermione took the hint and left the room, dragging harry out with her. when the door closed behind harry, he turned to hermione.
"think he'll use the potions?"
hermione shrugged and tried not to think about what just happened. "i hope he does but i can't control him. If he doesn't take them then he doesn't."
they were silent as they stood outside draco's bedroom. "do you think... how far do you think lucius went?" harry asked tentatively, almost like he didn't want to hear the answer.
to be honest, hermione didn't want to hear it either. "well, we've only met lucius malfoy under a handful of times and he seems pretty... rough. i—" hermione stopped herself. "i don't want to talk about this anymore. i just—thinking about it—he's been our fucking classmate for seven years and we don't know shit about him. makes you wonder, don't you?"
"makes me wonder why draco put up with it all that time," harry replied as he made his way into his room. he paused when his hand was on the handle. "should we ask him about it when he's eighteen again?"
hermione shook her head rapidly. "unless he tells us himself, we're not to do anything. we don't even know how armoured draco malfoy is or how far he'd go to make sure shit like this do not see the light of day."
"he'll remember this," harry warned her.
hermione fucking knew that. he'd remember all of this. he'd remember them helping him, caring for him. she just hoped—she just fucking hoped that he'll accept them as friends. she's really starting to see draco malfoy in a new light and she's now ready for it to stop.
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omg what an angsty part. but it had to be done. you all need to know about draco's past—there's so much shit in his past tbfh. so many demons. this is just one of the bigger ones [im so poetic wow fuck me]
so, next part will probably consist of a trip to egypt because draco will be in denial [cheesy but effective don't lie] and hermione and harry try to be the scooby doo gang once again.
-bee