To Play with Fire

Disclaimer: I own only plot and the pleasure of writing. All hail J.K.Rowling!

A/N: The idea of a scar across the hero's face has always gotten me hot, so I'm sorry for this if some of you don't like it. :) I recently read it in another fiction and decided to have a scarred Draco too. But don't fret, it's not permanent!

WARNING: This is the last time I'm updating here, I just don't like the technical side of the sight, although here's a LOT of great readers. I am writing the story further though, so please, if you are interested in more, you are more than welcome to read it on Coloured Grey.
http://colouredgrey.contraveritas.com/
I have the same name there. The 14th is unedited there, but you can still read it, if you want.
Cheers'
S

Chapter 13

To Wear A Mask


Draco came into the library, thinking he had to face them some time anyway. He felt apprehensive because he knew, that now his inner ugliness was displayed on his face and everyone could see it.

As he pushed through the doorway, everybody's eyes turned to him. He ignored their staring and passed some shelves, finally reaching the table that Gryffindors frequently studied at. Here you are. Hello. A bitter smile graced his lips for a moment.

He saw Hermione gasp and the other two gawk at the scar, that ran vertically from his right eyebrow down the eye and onto his cheek. A single red stripe that had refused to vanish despite Madam Pomfrey's best efforts. Draco could have told her that it would, but then he would have to explain the nature of the scar and who had done it.

“You look like shit, Malfoy.”

“What happened?”

Ron and Harry had spoken simultaneously, they threw a brief glances at each other before Harry repeated, “What happened? Was there a revel?”

When Draco didn't rush to explain, they told him, that they had figured there had been at least Death Eater Council last night. Then at midday, Hermione had overheard some Slytherins discussing Draco being in the infirmary, but the rumours ran from a shaving accident to attempted murder and suicide, so nobody had been sure what to believe. At that Hermione glanced at his face again and he saw her shiver in disgust. Draco's breath caught and he started sweating; he felt monstrous.

Draco curled his fists in his pockets and shook his head, “No, it was just a Council meeting.”

Draco had been going to Death Eater meetings regularly every couple of weeks, but otherwise it had been rather quiet six weeks. There had been nothing to report except for Voldemort's crazy musings, that Draco had been tuning down for his audience. But there were also things he never spoke about. It was not that he wished to be secretive, but the violent entertainment that often took place at the Voldemort's court, was something he would rather prefer to forget himself. There was really no point in telling the do-gooders everything.

He sat at the table, “He got a little angry.” There was no need to specify who Draco meant.

“Why? Was it anything you did?” Hermione asked, obviously hinting at the mark on his face, but for whatever reason, the sudden sharp stab of pain that shot through his scar, went straight to the dark skull on his hand. Draco made an effort not to cringe, when the ever present feeling of guilt threatened to engulf him.

The school life had been strange these past weeks. Basically, he had already been the most important Slytherin in school before the broom flight with Harry. He had gained a reputation of dangerous and merciless Death Eater even before he was one because of Blaise; the wildest rumours were still circulating the halls of Hogwarts about what had happened, and every time Draco heard snippets of some of them, he became sick to his stomach. Fortunately no one was stupid enough to discuss them openly with him or he would probably hex them. Though it would only confirm the rumours. Draco was not so sure if it would be wise course of action or not, but he never did anything to quell the rumours either.

Draco would never have believed that he could ever have as much power as he did, and still gain more. What happened after his public reconciliation with Harry Potter was unbelievable.

As time wore on, other Death Eaters continued to treat him as one of their own and at times even seemed to look up to him. In a matter of two weeks Draco Malfoy's position in the Slytherin house was higher than ever. His opinion was asked and reckoned with, people parted as he walked the halls, the sofa in the Slytherin common room was emptied for him without asking, and some students showed initiative by bringing sweets to him at nights when he happened to sit up late in the Common Room. One fifth year Slytherin even offered to carry his bag for him, but Draco had turned livid at that, and one look was enough for the poor guy to disappear to the infirmary for three days with a faked mysterious fatigue that prevented him going to classes.

But being so powerful didn't feel like a reward, instead Draco felt even more like his father. A monster, who could get away with anything in the Slytherin house and no one would so much as squeak. He had learnt to receive respect as his father's son from an early age, but such a blatant fear of him, the ultimate power he now had in his own house, was repulsive to him. Draco didn't think he deserved to be god just because he had the guts to hurt a human being.

Yes, he had done things, alright. But it was nothing he wished to discuss with Gryffindors, nor was it connected to the topic at hand.

“He is demanding concrete results, but I don't think even he himself knows what kind of results exactly,” he said before sighing exasperatedly. “What would it change if I...” He cut himself off and Potter's eyebrows shot up.

“He wants you to do something you don't want to, doesn't he, Malfoy?” the brunet said. “This is why he gave you the scar, isn't it?”

It wasn't a question and Draco swallowed, then started to shake his head in denial but Hermione interrupted him, “What is it? Tell us, maybe we can think of something together?”

Together? Hermione had no idea what she was talking about. Draco blinked a couple of times. He didn't know if he even knew, how to solve his problems together with anyone. Could he really reveal what The Snake Face wanted? Draco thought fast.

Finally he offered, “I'm not delivering enough 'secret information', whatever that is. He thinks that it's because you still don't trust me, but it's not like any of us can make him think differently.” He shrugged.

Actually there was one thing could change the situation for him, but he would be the last person to suggest it.


* * *


For Hermione the past weeks had been more or less normal. Her fascination with Blaise Zabini was a matter of the past now – she had realised that he had not possessed a single trait she thought essential in a person. Blaise lacked honesty, sincerity and bravery. Whatever had happened to him could not be as bad as what Harry had experienced by Voldemort's hands, could it? And Harry did not move around the halls, one hand on the wall, eyes darting around in fear of an unseen enemy! Well neither did Blaise, but she was speaking figuratively. Fortunately for everyone, Blaise had been taken out of school by his mother some time after the incident, and as far as anyone knew, no charges had been filed against anyone.

Hermione startled. She just realised, that she had forgotten to pay attention in class and it never happened to her! They had an important test coming up in History, for God's sake! She tried listening for some time, but before she got back on track, she was thinking about a certain Slytherin again. Hermione hoped it had not been Draco Malfoy who did it to Blaise. As much as she liked the blond now, she firmly believed that no crime should go unpunished. Was it really him? The way all the Slytherins did anything he wanted them to, suggested that he might have. He was truly the king of the castle, a sole heir of an empire and now a ruler de facto.

Hermione contemplated the problem with the scar. Voldemort was demanding results and Draco was clearly paying the price, even though he was trying to shrug it off as insignificant. His blemished face, though, was telling another story all together. Hermione shivered in horror every time she thought about how the scarring had to have happened, and a strong feeling of protectiveness came over her. She thought it natural, as any injustice always made her feel that way. Well, almost always. Zabini was another story, she told herself; he had cheated on her.

She wanted to help Draco Malfoy, and she thought that she knew how to make Voldemort to back off at least for a while. Though, the question of convincing Draco to go along with her plan might be sightly problematic. Hermione needed to talk to Ron and Harry. She glanced at them – Ron was almost asleep on his notes and Harry was gazing outside. Boys! She huffed, forgetting that she herself was not listening either.


* * *


It was the third day since the scar. He tried not to think about it, but it was quite impossible when everyone who he happened to glance at nearly flinched at the sight of him. Draco's hand curled tighter around the quill. It was just one more thing not to think about! Lately it seemed that all his life consisted of painful things. Binns was insufferable! Who the hell cared about some archaic conventions?! Draco stared at his parchment with unseeing eyes.

If previously people had disliked, loathed and feared him, now the last feeling was prevailing above all others. Those who had appeared friendly before because of his social status only, started sucking up to him, those who were neutral because of personal dislike, avoided him like a plague, those who had actually liked him before - and those were not many – blatantly disappeared from his vicinity just in case. Only his fellows Death Eaters, their sons and professors continued conversing with him more or less naturally.

He hated being feared and bootlicked. He hated deciding who was who in the hierarchy of the house, he hated watching his every word because anyone who received a black look or negative word may have end up beaten. He was tired of holding his goons back.

This kind of absolute power reminded him of his father.

He remembered how they went together to Italy on holidays when he was eight. It was just the two of them and Draco had been very happy to go everywhere with his father. They met important people, visited shops and sports events. People treated them as if they were kings. Draco remembered a particular scene in the restaurant, where a waiter was shaking in his boots after he had messed up the order. Draco remembered feeling sorry for the guy, but he still hadn't had the courage to tell his father that he didn't really mind eating a sundae instead of an ice cream cocktail. Lately his life had been full of these waiters.

Enough!

Draco looked around him. Most students were sitting relatively quietly minding their own business, some playing hangman or reading up for another lesson, and one girl was even engrossed in something that looked like a novel. He looked at Hermione. She was sitting in the front row, her pose relaxed, her hand with a quill lying on the table. Although he was looking at her back, somehow it seemed to him, that she wasn't really listening. What might she be thinking about? Did she still harbour tender feelings for Zabini? He doubted it, but the mere thought about it angered him, and he had to make an effort to calm down. He rubbed his aching scar.


* * *


Lessons were over and The Golden Trio were sitting in their common room. The had ben planning to go to the library but Hermione had held them back, because she had wanted to introduce them to her plan. Harry suggested her to think it over, but Ron was excited. After all, it had been his idea in the first place. Yes, Hermione was going to convince Draco Malfoy to start dating her! This was a great opportunity - Malfoy might earn an ungodly position in the higher DE circles. Maybe Voldemort would listen to his suggestions then?

“Just be careful, 'Mione.” Harry touched her hand for a moment and looked at her most seriously. Hermione thought that maybe he wanted her to see something in his eyes, that he had no guts to give voice to. She had no idea what it might be.

“Of course I will, Harry.” She smiled reassuringly.

Harry nodded but after a beat he drew a sharp breath and said, “Just don't lose your heart to the slimy bastard.”

Hermione was shocked for a moment but when Ron burst out laughing, she started to laugh too. Harry smiled.

After some more exchanges on various topics, they were off to the library.

Now that the weather didn't favour spending time outside any more, tended to stay in. The Common Rooms, halls and all the various dark corners of the castle were constantly full of people. The library was no exception. When Harry, Ron and Hermione reached it, Draco was already there and they joined him. They all took out their books and parchments, and started with their homework without much fuss.

Hermione couldn't help herself, she looked at his scar again. She always did it, although she knew it was not polite to stare and she knew, that he was highly self-conscious about it. Hermione was thinking how to start the conversation as she watched him. Her plan would be obviously a sensitive subject for him, especially considering how careful Malfoy was not to touch her all the time. Would it even work? Pretending to be a girlfriend of a boy, who recoiled in disgust every time she touched him. It was so aggravating! Even now as they came to his table, the boys sat across from him so Hermione had to sit next to Draco. He had tried to be inconspicuous - she had to give him that – but as soon as he could, he moved his chair a little bit aside from hers. She experimentally touched his elbow and he startled. Hermione refused to take it any more.

“Why do you always do that?” She sounded annoyed but couldn't help it.

“Do what?” It was clear that he knew full well what she was talking about, but was trying to hide it. Hermione thought, that at this particular moment he looked more like a fidgeting nerd than an all powerful Slytherin bully.

“You move away every time I come near you.” She put her book aside and turned to see him better.


* * *


Draco thought that he had never seen anything that rivalled the beauty of her clear and bright eyes, although there was a definite accusation in them. He turned to his paper and his voice was level, “I don't know what you are talking about.”

“The hell you don't, Malfoy!” She looked even more indignant now. She was talking low, but loud enough to be heard clearly around the table. “You know what? I don't care why you do it, but I demand you stop it!”

Draco glanced at her. She was less beautiful at the moment, but even more desirable regardless. Well, he decided, he had to do it some time anyway, so why not now? He gulped, raise his chin and said, “OK.”

The other three goggled at him, and if he wasn't about to apologise for the possibly the third time in his life, he would have laughed.

“What? You are not going to argue about it?” Hermione asked. “No names calling and speeches about me being inferior and worthless?” She looked shocked, but her questions still dripped with sarcasm.

Draco lowered his eyes on his work, and cleared his voice determinedly. “Sorry.” It still sounded like a croak. He felt his ears growing hot. He was blushing. Bugger. This was humiliating. After a moment he looked up.

Hermione's eyes had widened and Ron's mouth was hanging open. He looked silly and Draco felt better instantly. Harry was just staring though. Draco saw Potter nudging Hermione, and remained silent. He thought that neither of the two had any idea what to say, and from the looks of it Ron faring no better.

Then Hermione uttered a high-pitched, “Eem...” and then added, “OK.”

It was an uncomfortable moment but as Draco knew that he had to explain himself fully, he composed himself and elaborated, “I'm sorry for all the name calling I've been doing all these years.” He paused for a moment. “And I'm sorry for... moving. Like that. Won't do that again.” He had not really thought she would mind. He desperately wanted to add that he was the leper in this scenario not her, but of course he did not.

“Oh.” For once, Hermione seemed to have lost all her words and none was forthcoming from the boys either.

In truth, it was starting to get funny and Draco suddenly felt more at ease about the whole situation. “I guess I own you guys an apology too.” He look them in the eye as he said it.

He knew that his newly found allies did not really like him, and perhaps didn't fully trust him. But at times, when bantering with Potter or exchanging half-serious insults with Weasel, associating with them brought a dim light into his dusky world. Perhaps now, he thought, they might be more willing to put up with him. Buying yourself into Gryffindors' graces, are you Malfoy? I'm one pathetic king of Slytherin indeed, he thought bitterly as waiting for any kind of response from the Gryffindors.

Finally Harry had decided that enough was enough and said, “Apology accepted.”

Draco exhaled and the tension dissipated from his body. Next, Hermione and the redhead offered their acceptance also and for some time they worked in silence.

“There was actually something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Draco's head jerked up to look at her. His insides fluttered as they always did when she was talking to him. Merlin, he wished he actually could touch her.

“I was thinking about what you said about Voldemort wanting some tangible results,” she said. “I think I know what would get him calm down for a while.”

When he heard what she wanted to talk about, Draco looked away and schooled his expression into an impassive mask.

“I know, you won't like it, but I think it is your best option.” He heard her drawing in a deep breath and he turned his gaze on her once again. She swallowed and uttered quietly but bravely, “I think Ron's idea was brilliant - you and I should start dating.”

At first he thought that he had misunderstood her but then Hermione continued quickly, “Just think about it, Malfoy, Voldemort would be pleased, and no one would wonder why in the world are we socializing, if we were a couple.”

For the next several seconds Draco could not respond. He had to will his speech organs to work. Where did the difficulty lie, he did not manage to uncover, but finally the air started to move in his windpipe once again, the jaws were moving and the meaningful sounds were emanating from his throat.

“Would you really do that?” He heard a hint of incredulity in his voice. He swallowed.

Hermione shrugged with an indifference, that seemed just too careless to be genuine. “It's not like we would really date,” she said. “Well, other people wouldn't know that of course, so we should hold hands and cuddle from time to time, naturally, but if you could hide your distaste, then so could I.”

Draco nodded. He did not dare to say anything. He was thinking intensely. On the one hand, it was better than anything he could have anticipated, but on the other hand, in would be... difficult to say at least. To hold her in his arms knowing, that all she was feeling was carefully masked 'distaste'?
A sweet torture? Or just a torture?

But could he really refuse this kind of opportunity?

“Are you really willing to do that?” he asked again, and at her confirmation he continued, “Why?”

For a beat she did not answer, obviously struggling to explain herself, which was odd. Hermione always knew how to promote her ideas.

“Just think about what we could do!” she said, her eyes burning with conviction. “You could feed Voldemort so called 'sensitive' or even 'intimate' information about Harry's supposed weaknesses. You could tell him about our 'secret plans'! There's a countless number of possibilities.”

He nodded at that, though he was still unsure what to think of it all. The other two boys seemed to be on board with her, but he still turned to them for confirmation, “And you are OK with that?”

“You hurt her and you'll see how OK we are.”

The redhead smiled a sarcastic but also a mischievous smile at him, and Potter added, “What he said.” He smirked and Draco blinked.

“Fine then,” he said and turned to his now girlfriend. “Give me your hand.” At her hesitation he added, “I'm not going to do anything nasty, I promise.”

Not really understanding what he wanted her hand for, she asked, “Must we start right away?”

Draco's insides chilled a little bit but he smiled still, “No, but there's one thing I need to do this very moment. You can hold my hand under the table if you like.” At her puzzled glance he added, “It won't hurt, I promise. It's just for a moment.” His voice was now a couple of degrees colder but apparently she finally decided to trust him. She reached her hand out to him. Draco took it and sighed.

“Right,” he said as if to prepare himself. Then he uttered a incantation that was definitely classified as dark. He hoped that Hermione did not know that, but then he saw her eyes widen in horror and she started struggling. Just as the boys jumped up to help her, Draco let her go.

“What did you do?”

“You crazy?!”

“What was that spell?!”

“Malfoy, what did you do to Hermione?”

They all spoke at the same time, but Draco just regarded them coldly, “I didn't do anything to her.” But the boys were not inclined to believe him.

“What did you do to her?” Harry asked again threateningly, but then suddenly his eyes narrowed as he looked at Draco's face. “Your scar!” he gasped quietly.

Draco ignored their shocked questions, and continued putting his things into the bag with abrupt movements. He felt like an idiot; after all, he had known all along, that whatever he did, they would take everything as an assault, wouldn't he? He would never be a good guy to them. “I'll finish my homework in the common room. We'll discuss the particulars of the arrangement tomorrow.” If there still is what to discuss, he thought bitterly.

Now they knew, what it was that The Snake Face had been insisting upon all this time, and why the scar had been given to him. Well, good. Draco covered his hurt and self-consciousness behind his usual mask of cold indifference, and before anyone could have said anything more, he left.

Draco knew he'd done the right thing by vanquishing his scar, but he still felt cowardly for not telling them beforehand what he was about to do. All of it was on the inside though. His face was faultless again, and he could hide anything behind the perfection.


To Be Continued...


REPEAT WARNING: This is the last time I'm updating here, I just don't like the technical side of the site, although here's a LOT of great readers. Thank you so much! I am writing the story further though, so please, if you are interested in more, you are more than welcome to read it on Coloured Grey.
http://colouredgrey.contraveritas.com/
I have the same penname there. The 14th is unedited there, but you can still read it, if you want.
Cheers'
S