Nightmares

Come Back Tomorrow

Hermione sniffled, blinking her sore eyes, and fighting the last few hiccups that were coming from her chest. Draco had stopped crying, and was simply holding her, rocking slightly. His hand stroked her hair comfortingly, his breathing still ragged, and his face pressed into her head. She felt an unusual desire to stay like that forever, rocking gently until they withered away.

She pulled away, finally wiping at her face, and sniveling into her sleeve. 

“You don’t have to go.” Draco’s voice was desperate, more of a plea than an offer.

“I do. I’ve already been gone too long. The others are probably worried.” She shook her head, feeling pity for the look he wore. The left half of his face was red and purple, his cheek still pink from her slap, his bloody nose had run onto his lip, and bruises were forming on his chin, mouth, and under his eye. 

“I’m sorry for hitting you.” She apologized, sitting back, and looking at the mess she’d made of him.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” he said with a valiant shrug, the corner of his lips lifting in a tolerant smile. “I probably deserved it, anyway.” He belittled himself, lifting a hand to gently prod at his lip, and nose.

“You didn’t. You… you did the best you could in an awful situation.” Hermione admitted, looking at the floor, and wondering if he really could have done any better. Probably not.

“I could have protected you better, but… thank you. I’m sorry for…” he closed his eyes, and swallowed uncomfortably, scrunching up his face to get the rest out. “For being the first.”

Hermione watched him for a moment, examined the sickened twist of his mouth, the angry pull of his eyebrows, the guilty shift of his eyes.

“I can’t say it’s okay, but… I understand why you did it. It was- I…” Hermione couldn’t put her thoughts into proper words, and glared at the floor, ordering her thoughts into a coherent form.

“I don’t appreciate that you violated me, but… I do appreciate your intent to protect me.” She finally said, trying not to think of how much worse it might’ve been had Draco not gone first. It had seemed as though a few had followed his example, true models of conformity. She could only imagine what those sheep would’ve done had one of her later abusers gone first. Even with the imperius cast on her, she doubted she would’ve been able to survive it.

“Hermione, if… If there’s anything I can do to make up for it, just ask. I’ll do anything.” His eyes gleamed with more than atonement. She recalled his confession the last time she’d been in the Manor. She swallowed convulsively. 

“I’ll let you know if I think of anything.” She replied, pushing herself to her feet, feeling the need to get away before he said anything else to make her sympathize with him.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” He asked from the floor, stretching his legs out, and looking up at her with a face devoid of emotion. Hermione met his blank stare, weighing the pros and cons. 

“Yeah. I will.” She nodded, and hurried from the room, nearly running into Lucius Malfoy who stood right outside, obviously trying to eavesdrop. 

“Leaving so soon?” He leered sarcastically, taking in her rumpled appearance, and tear-stained face. Hermione pushed past him and wordlessly left the Manor, trying not to throw up as his cologne seemed to follow her down the stairs. It was sickly sweet, and brought a horrible chill down her spine. She could almost feel pain accompanying it, and knew without a doubt that at some point during her captivity, Lucius Malfoy had definitely taken advantage of her helpless situation. She felt a wave of gratitude that she couldn’t remember, and only had an abstract notion of what had happened. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to face him again if she had those images in her mind every time she saw his face.

* * *

Hermione Apparated back to the Burrow, taking in the orange glow of the setting sun, and entered the house full of Weasleys. 

“Hermione! We were starting to worry about you!” Molly’s voice called from the stove, where she waved her wand, preparing dinner.

“Sorry…” Hermione mumbled, wiping her face again at the surprised look on Mrs. Weasley’s face. 

“You look a fright, dear!” She announced, stuffing her wand into her apron, and walked over, taking Hermione’s hands. “Did your meeting go that badly?” 

“No, not at all.” Hermione shook her head, offering a wan smile. “It went quite well. I’m going back tomorrow.”

“Oh, well that’s wonderful! You go wash up, and rest a bit before dinner.” She soothed, patting Hermione’s hand, and heading back to her task. Hermione trudged up the stairs, feeling contrite for practically lying to the Weasley mother. Knowing she would be lying to the others.  None of them could know she was meeting Malfoy. She didn’t think any of them would understand why she felt easier expressing her horrors to him than anyone else. They wouldn’t understand that he’d been there. They’d blame him, just like she had done.