-Content warning for light violence, as well as intimidation from a man and mentions of abuse.-
Enjoy!
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Two weeks passed, and I hadn't said a single word to Cho or the rest of the group since the night Harry and I had kissed. I sat alone at most meal times, and I didn't speak to them if we had any classes together. I wasn't punishing them, not really. I just wanted to honestly see if any of them truly cared about me. I also needed space to work through the awful things Cho had said to me. Maybe by distancing myself, I was proving her right, but I had to know if the people I cared most about in the entire world actually cared about me the same. Really, I hadn't said a word to anyone, besides the odd answer to a question from a teacher, or the occasional sorry to someone if I bumped into them in a corridor. The loneliness was almost comforting in its familiarity, and I could feel that distant emotion of numbness and emptiness encroaching on me every day that my supposed friends continued on with their lives, not giving me a second though. Seeing them laugh together at meal times, seeing Harry and Ginny out on the Quidditch pitch, seeing Cho and Cedric be so disgustingly in love fed the vicious voice that hid in my brain, that told me that maybe I was worthless, maybe I was so damaged and broken and lost that I didn't deserve love, didn't deserve to be in Slytherin.
October's frost was starting to paint the grass every morning, and I could see my breath when I ventured outside, the air biting at my nose and cheeks and turning them pink. Normally I would be coming from Transfiguration when I made my way down to the dungeon, but Hagrid had asked me to stop by to bring Slughorn an ingredient he had been growing for him, so by the time I entered the Potions classroom, my hair was windblown, tendrils of darkness framing my face, my cheeks and nose had been kissed pink by the frigid air, and my chest was heaving from trying to make it there on time, my ribs still slightly tender from the fall, and the cold weather only seemed to worsen them.
"Ah, Ms. Adler! I was beginning to wonder where you were." Slughorn greeted me.
"Hagrid, ingredient, for you," I panted out, holding the brown parcel up with a shaky hand.
"Wonderful! Just wonderful," Slughorn walked from the front of the class and I handed the package to him. "If you could kindly take your seat, we need to begin today's lesson." As everyone turned around, I noticed Harry and Hermione's gazes lingering on me, but I kept my eyes on Slughorn's retreating form.
I nodded and made my way to the table Malfoy was sitting at diagonally to the right of the door. Placing my bag on the table, I collapsed into my chair, chest still heaving with lost breath.
Malfoy leaned over to me slightly, making his expensive cologne drift towards me. It was actually a pleasant scent, musk and something oddly warm and inviting. "Heard you and Potter's little gang are in a fight. What, they finally realized you're a pain in the ass to have around?" His voice was low, soft, but it didn't soften the impact of his words.
Tears of frustration burned at my nose and I grit my teeth, pulling out my parchment and smoke-gray quill. "None of your fucking business, Malfoy. Don't you have better, more Death Eater related things to worry about, you fucking prick?"
Malfoy laughed. He actually let out a laugh. It was the first time I had ever heard him do so, and I hated to admit that it wasn't the worst sound I had ever heard. It seemed to rumble deep in his chest, warm at the back of his throat. "Maybe not hanging out with those bastards has finally given you some fire, Adler. If you weren't still such an obnoxious suck-up, I might actually be impressed."
"Like I care if I impress you, Malfoy. I could figure out how to make your father love you, and you'd still find a way to give me shit for it." I fired back quietly, trying to hear what Slughorn was saying in the front of the class.
I could tell that hit a nerve, and a sense of pride swelled in me as Malfoy clenched his fist, his silver ring glinting in the dim dungeon light. "You know nothing about my father." He turned to me for the first time in weeks, his pale eyes shooting into my own, his angular face cold like a marble statue. "At least my father doesn't drink more whiskey than water. At least my father doesn't hit me." He growled, his eyes burning into the long mark on my arm, and the tears that had been dancing behind my eyes earlier returned but I swallowed and forced them down.
I don't know what came over me. It felt like a wave of pure rage washed over me, fire filling my throat as Malfoy mentioned my sad excuse for a father. I barely felt my hand lift from my parchment, barely felt the stinging of my palm against Malfoy's pale cheek, the way his blond hair whipped to the side, the way the entire class stopped and their mouths dropped as my slap landed.
The noise was sickening. I hadn't meant to hit him--- or I had, just not so hard. Not hard enough to make a sound that was so sharp it nearly made me sick.
"You fucking filthy Mudblood!" Malfoy growled, his hand coming up to cup his quickly reddening cheek. "You'll pay for this. I wish I had let that fucking Blugder slam into your thick skull when I had the chance."
The class let out a collective gasp, whispers flying as they took in the scene playing out before them.
"I wish you had," I snarled, my hand still stinging wildly, my heart pounding beneath my dark robes. "It would be better than having to see your nasty face every single fucking day of my life."
"Adler! Malfoy! I will be discussing this with the two of you after class." Slughorn reprimanded, his face painted with horror from the interaction he had just witnessed.
I could feel my face heating up, and I mumbled a soft, "Yes, sir." Malfoy stayed quiet beside me.
Everyone was still looking at the pair of us, some with mouths agape, and I wished more than anything that I could fold into the shadows behind me and never reappear. Harry was looking at me with a devastated expression, and the only other time I had seen Hermione's eyes filled with that much rage was when she had hit Malfoy.
I sat there stunned for the rest of the class, watching the red kiss of my handprint bloom on Malfoy's ivory skin. Hitting someone was so wildly unlike me. Malfoy's words had hit something deep, something dark inside of me that I couldn't control and did not want to face. It was a lecture period, so I sat there trying to record Slughorn's lesson, but my parchment was woefully bare by the end, when Slughorn announced that we would be taking a short exam the next day we would meet.
Everyone filed out, some throwing pitiful glances at me or fiery stares at Malfoy, though those were always short. The two of us sat there, unmoving, until the classroom had completely emptied. Slughorn tidied up his desk, putting away his books and notes, before making his way to our table in the back.
"Mr. Malfoy. Ms. Adler," Slughorn began, looking at us with a concerned expression. "I understand that there is some tension between you two, and though I do not condone it, I myself had something similar when I was your age. I understand that House relationships are tenuous at best at times. But whatever personal vendetta and prejudices you have against the other will not be tolerated any longer in my classroom. Outside of these walls, I have no control over what you do or say, but while you are here, you will act amicably and you will refrain from any further outburst of physical violence. I am quite frankly disgusted by the way you two just acted." Slughorn looked pointedly at me, and I felt smaller than I ever had.
"Mr. Malfoy," Slughorn turned his gaze toward the blond boy, who was tense, his gaze so sharp I slunk away from it without it even being directed at me. "Those kinds of words are not tolerated in my classroom, nor are they allowed in any part of Hogwarts. You may be in different houses, but you both are students here, and as such, I expect better from you. Using blood slurs is a heinous, repulsive thing. Do not think that I won't take further action if it happens again. I'm sure you wouldn't want to have to get your father and Dumbledore involved."
I held back a snort. His father is probably the one who taught it to him.
Slughorn looked at us, his arms crossed over his round belly. "Sir, I'm sorry for what I did, but Malfoy---"
Slughorn cut me off. "I don't want to hear excuses, Adler. I'm well aware of what he said, and I know that right now that topic is especially sensitive, but that neither excuses or justifies your actions. I expect far better from you."
I risked a glance at Malfoy, hoping he hadn't caught what Slughorn meant, but by the glint in his eye, I knew he had. "Yes, sir," I said, looking down to pick at my short nails that were already very much worse for the wear.
"Mr. Malfoy, anything you would like to say?" Slughorn prompted.
Malfoy's jaw tightened, and it was like speaking was physically painful as he gritted out, "Sorry, Professor. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't, or I'll be forced to get other staff involved, and we wouldn't want that, would we?" Slughorn asked, though it seemed more rhetorical than anything.
Malfoy's hand was in such a tight fist the veins on the back of it were straining and I was sure his nails were pressing rouge crescents on his large palms. "No, sir." His voice was clipped, but chalk full of anger and resentment and every other sour feeling in the world.
Slughorn nodded once. "Good. You both are dismissed. I'm not assigning detention, as it's the first offense, but do not be mistaken; I will not be so forgiving again." He waddled past our table and out the door, leaving the two of us in uncomfortable, thick silence.
Standing up and shoving my chair in, I packed up my things quicker than I ever had before. My only thought was to get away from Malfoy, to disappear before he could retaliate as I was sure he would. I had just stuffed my last bits of belongings into my bag when Malfoy stood up, his body towering over mine. I paused my movements as he took a silent step forward, then another, then another, crowding me, forcing me to stumble back until the cold stone of the wall just behind our table in the back of the classroom met my back. His frame eclipsed mine as I tried not to shrink back into the wall, as I tried to hold my ground, keep my chin high to show I was not afraid, no matter what the trembling of my hands and the rasp of my breath might say otherwise. Malfoy's large hand slammed the wall next to my head, and I had to fight the flinch that the sound elicited, had to choke down the memories of similar sounds.
Malfoy tilted his head until the rough mark on his cheek was all I could look at, the outline of my hand clear and purpling on his fair skin. "You ever touch me again, and I promise you, you will fucking regret it, you piece of filth." He glanced down, trailing an ice-cold fingertip down the puckered, almost faded pink line that shot down my lower arm, which I instantly ripped away from his touch, hiding it behind my back. His touch sent a shot of heat through me, and it took all my power not to paint my confusion across my face. "Do any of your friends," he spat out the word like it burnt his mouth, "know where this is from? Do they even know anything about you, really?" Malfoy's hand pulled away from me, slipping it into his pocket. "I'd wager if they did, they wouldn't be your friends at all."
Hurt must've flashed across my features, though I tried to keep my expression as neutral as possible with my heart pounding.
Malfoy's lips pulled up into a smug smirk. "Or is that exactly why Potter hasn't talked to you in two weeks?" His face furrowed into fake sympathy. "Poor Adler, wanted by no one, not even the outcasts. How could they want you? You're painfully stupid, and your Muggle blood made you uglier than anything I've seen before. I'm shocked, really, that they lasted this long around you. I can barely stand to be around you for an hour without wanting to be sick."
I finally found my voice again, and words tumbled out like a waterfall. "My life is none of your business and whether or not my friends are speaking to me is none of your business either. I am perfectly capable of being on my own; I always have been and I always will be. You think your words really hurt me? You think anything you do could really hurt me?" It does, it does, it does. "It doesn't. I've gone through far worse than dealing with a spoiled little rich boy who's father is barely better than mine. You don't matter at all to me, and I'd reckon that that goes for everyone else you know as well. I don't understand how someone can be so awful, so wretched, but I can't--" My voice caught as tears warmed my throat, and I cursed myself internally. "You can fucking torment me all you want, you can wish me dead, you can even hit me and I could care less." You fucking liar. "So you know what, Malfoy? You can go fucking jump off the Astronomy Tower for all I care. You may be a Pureblood, but you're the most vile, disgusting human I have ever met." I hadn't noticed tears were falling down my face until a drop hit the floor between the two of us.
Embarrassment and further anger flared up as I noticed the drop of salty water splattered on the floor, the single piece of evidence of how much his words really had stabbed into me, how much they had replayed in my brain, especially during the summer when I was alone and spiraling.
Malfoy looked shocked, genuinely shocked at the fact that I was actually crying in front of him. He lifted his massive hand off the gray stone behind my head, and brought it in front of my face. My breath seemed stuck in my throat as his hand moved, sure he was going to return the hit I had given him earlier, but instead, his thumb swiped a single tear off my cheek that was ruddy from anger, anger that had been so loud I was shaking, anger that had just dissipated with a single brush of my enemy's finger.
My own face crumpled with confusion, and I stilled as he examined my tear on the pad of his thumb like he was looking for something. He smirked, rubbing the moisture away between his thumb and middle finger. Malfoy's voice was barely above a whisper as he said, "Never seen you cry before, Alder. Not a bad look on you."
His words hit my core with an odd sensation as once again his scent filled my senses and I could smell the cinnamon on his breath. Malfoy opened his mouth again but before he could speak, I ducked past him, grabbed my bag that was still sitting on the table and nearly ran out of the dungeon, my steps quick and uneven; I had to get away, I couldn't stand being near him for one more moment, smelling his stupidly expensive cologne, feeling his body heat, seeing every line and shade in his eyes. What I couldn't see as I fled was Malfoy still standing there, his eyes boring a hole into the wall that the back of my head had collided with.