Seven Times

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Part 2.

The second time Draco Malfoy knowingly touched Hermione Granger was nearly four months later. It took him that long to regain that precious piece of sanity Hermione’s screams had driven away. And during those four months, things went from bad to worse in the wizarding world. The day Draco Malfoy regained his mind was the day he won the fight against the ghosts of his past.

Four months in which Draco lay almost catatonic. Harry bathed him, Ron fed him, and Hermione watched over him. If anyone else approached him, he ended up a blithering mess, so the trio became a foursome out of necessity. They mostly slept in the same bed, holding and being held, as Draco muttered Potion compounds and Quidditch strategies. He scratched those formulas out on the floor, wrote them on the walls, and tugged at his hair fretfully if the strict schedule the others kept wasn’t as it should be.

Ron was the one who worked that out, when he was an hour late taking Draco’s lunch up to him one afternoon a month after Draco had joined them. He found Draco sitting in the corner, his face blank and his fingernails dug into the warn carpet as he rocked. And when Ron had sat beside him and asked how he was, Draco had broken down again, Ron finding himself with an armful of sobbing Draco Malfoy a moment later.

Ron felt then the true horror of what had driven Draco to this point in his life, and he felt the full shameful slam of guilt as a litany of pleas fell from bite-swollen lips. ‘Please, don‘t leave, don’t leave me in the dark again, I’ll be good, I’ll beat Granger at Potions, I’ll beat Potter to the snitch, just, please don’t leave me again, please, please, please.’

As he cradled Draco in his arms, Ron thought back to the burned-down Burrow, and the sheer love that had coated the walls like paint; the love that had shaped his life. He’d never been locked in his room and left to go hungry. Never been beaten because he wasn’t the best at something. And as sobs turned into hiccups, Ron thought back to the day Draco had turned his back on his family and had broken them all out of Malfoy Manor. Of what he had personally done, and Ron learned what shame tasted like when he remembered that he had thrown Draco down the stairs into the cellar and had shut and locked the door.

One could reason that he had been frantic with worry over Hermione. However one could also remind oneself, that he’d done it out of sheer hatred. He’d been willing to let him go hungry, to leave him in the dark, because he hadn’t known. Hadn’t known that it was Lucius Malfoy’s favourite way to punish his child, in a way no child should be punished. After Draco’s tears had dried, Ron fed him and helped him back into bed. And as he tucked him in, Ron bent close to his ear and spoke as softly as he could, while pure emotion was choking him.

"You were nothing but a prat at school. You were everything I wasn’t - rich, spoiled, and pampered. I envied your book smarts, and I envied your Quidditch abilities. But now? I wish I could kill your father for what he’s done. The newest broom or the best dragon-hide boots don’t make up for abuse. I may have been poor, but I was loved, and I knew it.

"You were offered up as a sacrifice by the one man who should have protected you. You were shown things that you should never have had to witness. You poor sod, they broke you. Even so, if you can hear me, I want you to remember something. You are better than your father, because you made a choice. Remember that, and make it the reason you beat him... Draco."

And when Draco woke up several hours later for dinner, he did remember it. And slowly, slowly, because these things take time, he began to reassemble his fractured mind. He made an effort to not mutter madly, and to try and talk normally when his caregivers were around. And the first day he opened his eyes and could clearly see, he opened his eyes and found Harry staring down at him. Not sure how to act, or what to say, Draco simply said what he should have said all those years ago.

"Hullo."

Green eyes crinkled at the croaked greeting, and Harry gave him a small grin.

"Hullo. Feel like a spot of breakfast in the kitchen?"

Harry asked Draco that same question for another two weeks, only to have Draco shake his head and close his eyes. Harry let him, until the morning he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he dragged Draco out of bed and down the stairs. Left with no choice, Draco simply followed, and when he walked into a kitchen full of Weasleys, Harry simply took his hand when he balked, and led him to the table.

"Molly makes the best breakfast ever," Harry said as he pushed Draco down onto a seat, and Molly flushed.

"Tsk, be that as it may, Harry, such compliments will not get you another serving of sausage and egg!"

Before he knew what was happening, Draco was surrounded by Weasleys, and Molly was setting a platter of food down in front of him, and urging him to eat up, to put some meat back on his bones. He ate silently, cool grey eyes watching thoughtfully for the next week as the Weasleys ate and chatted and laughed together. They included Harry in their conversations easily, yet there was a coolness directed at Hermione by Molly, something that stood out amongst all the warmth.

When breakfast was finished, Hermione stood up began to clear the table as the others left the kitchen and headed off to do whatever it was they were doing. Molly lingered, her eyes wary as she watched Draco carefully cut a piece of sausage up, before chewing it slowly. While she fed him, she didn’t trust him, and when Draco lifted cool eyes, Molly flinched at the slight mockery she saw there.

"A word, Hermione?" Molly murmured, and Draco watched in interest as Hermione’s shoulders stiffened.

"Now is neither the time nor the place, Mrs. Weasley," she murmured, and Molly sighed before leaving the room.

Draco finished his breakfast silently as Hermione washed the dishes. It was on his mind to simply leave the plate at the table for her to get, but an image of her curled up on the parlour floor in his old home flashed through his mind. So he stood, and carried his plate to the sink silently. And when Hermione held her hand out for it, Draco could only stare at her. At the first up close look at the four light scars that ran down across her jaw, and Hermione flinched as she looked away.

"What did that?" he asked, and Hermione looked back up at him in surprise.

"You did," she said after a moment, and it was Draco’s turn to flinch.

"When?" he muttered, and Hermione dropped his plate into the sink with a clatter.

"When you went crazy," she said flatly.

Draco looked away, and bit his lip before trying again.
"How long have I been here?" he asked, and Hermione lowered her head.

"Four months. Do you remember anything?"

Draco looked away then, and the silence between them turned heavy. Hermione finally turned back to face him, her eyes level and her voice direct.

"Your Aunt tortured me in your family’s parlour. Do you remember that?"

Draco nodded with a jerk of his head, and Hermione smiled coolly.

"Do you remember how much pain I was in? Do you remember standing there and watching it happen?"

Draco turned to leave, only to stop when Hermione grabbed his arm tightly.

"In case you don’t remember, you saved my life," she hissed, digging her nails into his skin. "You used the Killing Curse on Bellatrix. You carried me out of there, and you lost your mind. When I woke up, you were already crazy. You did this," she whispered, touching the scars that covered her jaw. "You scratched me as hard as you could, and then you told me that my blood was just like yours. I owe you my life, you prat, and I don't know what I hate more - owing you like that, or you in general. Now leave me alone," she hissed, and turned back to the dishes.

She squealed a moment later when he tangled his hand in her hair and jerked her head backwards. Towering over her, he glared down at her, as her eyes glittered with anger back at him. Lifting his hand, he traced the scratches with his fingers, and then smirked slightly.

"Seems we’re now even for third year, Granger. And I’m not crazy anymore... not really. I'm not blind, either, to what is happening around me. Not blind to the fact that Molly Weasley is trying to guilt you into wanting her son, when it is as clear as day that you don‘t. No, don’t!" he warned, when she tried to jerk away from him.

"You’ll listen… I’m not blind to the fact that he doesn‘t want you like that either, but you are the one being punished for it. Not blind to the fact that it would never have worked between you, when even back at school everyone could see it. What I am blind to, is why you give a shit. Why you‘re letting her make you feel guilty, when you have nothing to be guilty for."

Hermione looked up at him as she best she could, and sneered slightly.

"Because she feels love for her child, Malfoy, an emotion I’m sure you’re lacking."

It became Draco’s turn to jerk, and Hermione bit her lip in shame as shock stole what little colour his face held. But before she could apologise, Draco let go of her abruptly and moved towards the door. He paused before he left the room, and spoke without looking at her.

"Seven times. I remember that you screamed seven times. I should have only heard you scream once, but you screamed seven times. A life for a life. Life debts. You're right; in wizarding law, you owe me."
Draco looked back at her then, and swallowed before looking away again.

"Consider us even," he whispered.

Then he was gone, and Hermione was left to turn eyes blinded by tears back to the sink. His words had shaken her, but more so, his observations. She washed the remainder of the dishes in silence, and when she turned around, Ron was standing in the doorway, hesitant to enter, yet unable to turn away. Upon seeing the tears on her cheeks, he sighed heavily, and lowered his eyes.

"Mum been at you again?" he asked awkwardly, and Hermione shook her head.

"Yes… no, it was something Malfoy said," she mumbled, and Ron sighed again.

"You want to know what always bugged me about the little ferret?" Ron asked, and when Hermione nodded, Ron smiled wryly.

"He always excelled in telling the truth. Why lie, when the truth hurts more?"

Hermione jerked, and Ron nodded slowly when Hermione lifted her eyes to his.

"Maybe he should have a chat with Mum, hmm?" Ron asked, and when Hermione started laughing, any remaining embarrassment between them vanished.

Linking arms, they set out to find Molly, and to lay the future she so desperately wanted for them, to rest.