She Will Be Mine

When they reappeared, they were standing in a long, softly lit hallway with gleaming wood floors. Draco let go of her arm, and Hermione swore she saw him discreetly rub his hand on his robes. Some things never changed.

“Where are we?” she asked. Her words held a sharp bite that took him off guard.

“The Manor, there’s a complete Healer’s office from when my—” He cut himself off by coughing into his hand. “Follow me.”

She reluctantly followed. Though she did trust him—she had heard Harry talk about how hard Draco was working on this case—that didn’t mean she liked him. As long as he held the prejudices from their school days, she wasn’t going to let go of hers.

They arrived at the end of the hall and Malfoy pushed open the door on the right. Hermione had to blink several times to allow her eyes to adjust to the bright light that stood in such stark contrast against the dimness of the hallway.

She followed him inside and watched as he dug through several drawers. The walls were white, and lined with white cabinets with white countertops. The floor was a checkered pattern of white and light grey, and there was a hospital bed in the center, covered in crisp white linens. This must be where Narcissa had stayed when she became too ill to leave the house.

It must be hard for Malfoy to be back here, Hermione thought.

Just then, Draco turned towards her, handing her a gown, socks, and white undergarments. “I’ll step out while you change out of your… giant robes?”

“They’re Harry’s. When I arrived at his house I wasn’t wearing anything… The killer still has my clothes,” she finished softly. Draco looked crestfallen at the news.

“I guess I should have known that… Well,” he said, placing a clear plastic bag on top of the hospital gown, “put them in this bag and I’ll send them to the forensics team to see if they can get anything off of them that may have been on your skin.”

Hermione shook her head in acknowledgement that she understood and Draco left the room.

She felt uneasy when she was alone, and the white sterility of the room wasn’t helping. She slowly approached the bed, setting the things Malfoy had given her on top of it. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the bottom of the oversized robes, and, wincing slightly as the fabric brushed her open cuts, she pulled them over her head.

What she saw made her hands shake and tears fill her eyes, blurring her vision. Her stomach was covered in blood that had been smeared by the robes. The words ‘Mine’ glared at her from both breasts and from the V between her legs. Her nipples stung painfully as they hardened from the coolness of the room, each having been pricked by the wand.

She didn’t want to see any more, so she carefully pulled on the plain white knickers Malfoy had left her, and stuck her arms into the gown, tying it securely in the front. It was thin and left her feeling exposed, despite the fact that it fell to her knees. She bit back a fresh set of tears. She hated that she was crying. It made her feel unappreciative. Shouldn’t she be happy that she was alive? Shouldn’t she be grateful that she alone had gotten away, when so many others had died at the killers hands? Instead she felt sad, empty, and alone.

A knock at the door broke her out of her thoughts.

“You dressed?” Malfoy shouted.

“Yes,” Hermione replied sourly, “if you can call this being dressed.”

Malfoy entered the room, wearing blue latex gloves and a white lab coat, but that wasn’t what had her backing away from him.

“What is that?” she asked, her eyes going wide with alarm.

“A camera, I need to document your injuries for the investigation.” He said it as if she should know already. She really should know that it was part of the process, for some reason she just didn’t think about it until now. Did that mean that—

“All my injuries?”

“Yes…” Then, sensing why she was so worried and taking pity on her, he continued. “If you want I can floo one of the female members of the team. I think Pansy is on duty tonight. She can take the pictures, but I don’t think she would be able to heal you, so I would see you anyway… I can try and owl Potter and teach him the counter-curse, but I don’t know how long that would take, and if you want to get rid of them, it should be done sooner rather than later. I’m sorry, Granger, I really am. I wish there was another way.”

Her eyes were welling up again. It was all so overwhelming. Malfoy sounded like he meant it, like he really was sorry she had to go through this, but that didn’t make any sense at all. Malfoy shouldn’t be sincerely sorry for anything other than that he might get her dirty, muddy blood on him.

“We can start easy, by brushing out your hair, if you want,” he offered, but she only shook her head no.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked softly.

“Because…” he started, but then stopped himself. He walked towards her until he was standing directly in front of her. Reaching out his gloved hand, he traced the tiny cut on her cheek ever-so lightly with his index finger, and continued. “Because I’ve seen what this killer can do. Because I have had to examine the lifeless bodies of fourteen mutilated girls, and I promised every one of them that they would be the last. And I have broken every one of those promises…” His finger touched the cut on her lip and she sucked in a breath. “Because, when Potter flooed me and said you’d been attacked by the Carver, but that you were alive, I’ve never been so relieved. I don’t know what I would have done if you were number fifteen.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say. “But… but… you hate me.” She wiped the tears from her eyes for the millionth time. “You hate my blood and everything that I stand for, so why would it matter to you if I’m dead or alive?”

Malfoy took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Granger, I haven’t been in school with you in almost ten years. I don’t consider us friends, but you aren’t my enemy anymore. Tomorrow we can get back to all the ‘know-it-all’, ‘ferret’ formalities. Tonight, let’s just get this over with.” Draco sighed, stepping away from her and back to the cabinets, where he pulled out a square piece of plastic and placed it on the bed.

“Now, if you could sit at the end of the bed and lean back, I will brush out your hair… if that wild bird’s nest doesn’t destroy my comb,” he smirked.

For some reason the sly comment about her bushy hair didn’t offend her. It made her feel better somehow, like she had stepped out of the twilight zone and back into reality. “So sorry I forgot to cover my hair in grease so no one can tell that it’s thinning,” she snapped back, but moved to the bed and propped herself on the end. She tilted her head back, letting her hair fall over the plastic square that Malfoy had set there. He worked through the tangled mess, muttering to himself about how his hair was not thinning.

After a few minutes Malfoy stopped suddenly, gasping. “What is—?” He rushed over to the cabinets, returning shortly with a small, clear plastic bag and some metal tool that looked like overlarge tweezers. He looked excited as he brought the tweezers to her hair and pulled something out of the mess. He held it up to the light and examined it before placing it in the plastic bag and coming around to her front.

“Granger, this is very important. Did you at any time come in contact with roses before you were abducted?” he asked seriously, showing her the bag with the single rose petal inside.

A slur of memories raced through her mind.

The smell… the sickly sweet smell of the flowers that barely masked the rotting stench.

The blood… disappearing into the mass of red rose petals.

She shook her head, shaking away the images. “No… the petals were from him. He had me lying on a bed of them.”

Draco looked like he could hug her. “Do you know what this means? The petal obviously has some kind of preservation spell on it. If we can figure out which spell was cast, we might be able to trace the florist it came from, and get a list of who purchased enough roses to make a bed of petals. It’s not much to go off of, but it’s better than any else we’ve gotten so far.”

She was crying again, and he instantly turned off his excitement to return to her hair. She could tell he really hated it when she cried. She didn’t know why she was crying this time… she just felt so overwhelmed with emotions that she couldn’t seem to turn off the tears. It angered her that her emotions were so out of control, but she couldn’t do anything but silently sob while Draco Malfoy worked his way through her hair.

When he finished a few minutes later, he carefully folded the plastic square and placed it into another clear plastic bag, sealing it with his wand and placing it on the countertop.

When he returned he looked uncomfortable again, though she had managed to stem the tears for the time being. It must have been because of what was coming next. Yes, that was it. He had the camera in his hand.

“Now, if you could just lie back on the bed, I’ll do your arms and face first.”

She was shaking slightly with nerves as she scooted back on the bed, letting Malfoy guide her so her head was on the small pillow. She didn’t even like Ron to see her naked when they had been dating. The lights were always off when they made love. How was she going to just lie there and let Draco Malfoy photograph her nude body parts?

“I’m sorry Malfoy, I don’t think I can do this,” she said quickly, moving to sit up, but Draco caught her shoulder, stopping her from leaving the bed.

Draco didn’t look pleased, but he did seem slightly sympathetic. “Granger, I don’t want to fight you for naked photographs, it feels highly perverted and inappropriate. I will floo Pansy, and after you can go wait in line at St. Mungo’s again if you wish, but there’s no guarantee that by the time they see you, your wounds won’t scar. Either way, we are wasting time. What’s it going to be?”

Hermione didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want scars to remind her of this night every time she looked in the mirror, but complying meant that she was agreeing to let Draco Malfoy see her naked! Draco Malfoy!

“You’re still wasting time,” he reminded her.

She looked up at him. He seemed like such a different person from their school days. All business and no bite, since when did that describe the Slytherin prince? And what about the girls who had lost their lives to the murderer she had escaped from? They probably would have done anything they could if it meant helping to catch the killer. Wasn’t she being petty and selfish, letting her silly prejudices hinder her from assisting the case? Obviously Malfoy was willing to overlook their past… She just had to swallow her pride and do so as well.

Slowly, she leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to her heart beat frantically against her temples. Another tear escaped the corner of her eye. Something soft brushed it away. It was Malfoy… Malfoy with a tissue. Her lip curved up the slightest bit.

“Be quick, ok?”

He smirked down at her. “Anything you want, Granger.”


Thanks to everyone who has read so far, and thanks Margot Le Faye, I’ll be sure to fix that, and HUGE thanks to Alexisrose for the quick read through and for posting this, because I can’t seem to do it from my iphone. If you still like it and think I should continue, review and let me know!