Count Your Blessings

Dreamweaver – I’ve been wanting to write a sentimental moment with Snape – nothing gushy of course but just enough to show that he was human. He’s really hard to write because I never think I do him justice. So hopefully his reactions that night was Snape-ish. Lol.

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Hours turned into days and days turned into weeks. Hermione hadn’t so much as spoken a word to Draco since that faithful night before the halls became filled with students. Not to say that she hadn’t tried. She tried with every fiber of her body to speak to him, but he was either under heavy sedatives or Professor Snape was blocking her way. Once she spent half the night sitting outside the infirmary waiting for the snarky potions master to leave but the stupid git didn’t. He did exit once to scold and taken ten points from Gryffindor because he found Hermione curled up by the door. She lost sixty points that week but it didn’t phase her. Points were points and this was Draco.

On the eve before students returned to Hogwarts, Peeves had set loose several of Hagrid’s giant cabbage eating slugs that required several professors to help rein them in, Professor Snape was one of them. Hermione took this chance to sneak into the infirmary and see Draco. His cot was covered with white linen drapes that became covered with the silhouette of his sleeping form. When she pried the curtain back, her eyes instantly locked onto the deep scars that traveled from right under his left ear and dipped low into his cream colored medical gown. They weren’t pink but a lighter shade of his skin color, almost ivory, and reeked of danger. Apparently, he wasn’t saved from the scars Greyback had given him.

Hermione slowly sat at the edge of the cot and brushed her fingers over his smooth hand, tracing the Dark Mark that was dark black over his pale white skin. Draco’s low groan stirred Hermione’s attention away from the mark and back to him. She watched as his eyes fluttered open. Blue orbs of cobalt locked onto her own glassy eyes and he smiled, only for a second until his vision seemed to become clearer. His eyes darted from the corner of the curtain and back to Hermione with what seemed shock.

“G-Granger?” Draco mumbled in a hoarse gasp, his throat seemed to contract a great deal when he spoke and Hermione felt guilt begin to ride up her spine.

“D-Draco,” She whispered back, trying to bite away tears, “I tried to see you but they wouldn’t let me.”

She felt his hand grasp onto hers and leaned forward, pressing her lips against the side of his hand. Tears began to freely roll down her cheeks as she tried to suppress sobs.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice was strangled through the sobs, “It’s all my fault you’re like this. If I just…”

“Save it, Hermione,” Draco replied, turning his head from her, “I don’t need your pity, or your guilt.”

“I don’t pity you,” whispered Hermione, pulling away from his hand lightly.

She watched him untangle his hand and bring it to his chest before tracing it along his scars. How she wanted to kiss them and make them go away but she knew they’d be there for life. All because of her and her stupidity.

“I think you should leave,” Hermione’s eyes widened and she took a gasp.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out of here,” Draco brought his eyes back to her, glittering with angry flames, “I never want to see you again.”

“You’re lying,” Hermione murmured reaching out for his hand, which he pulled away from her. “Draco, I…”

“You’re nothing to me,” Draco’s words were firm and they sent chills up her spine, “I believe I’ve sacrificed enough for your sake and would rather spend the rest of my year in peace. Away from your dangerous predicaments.”

She said nothing but opened her mouth as words ceased to expel. Tears had begun to fall down her cheeks, wetting the bed spread in front of her. He was lying. He loved her, just as she loved him. He would never say things like this to her.

“You don’t need to protect me, Draco,” Hermione sounded as if she were begging, and at this point she didn’t care. “I can take care of my self. I don’t want…”

“No.” interrupted Draco, “You can’t take care of yourself and I won’t take care of you. Do you realize what will happen to me once Voldemort discovers I saved you? What will happen to my father? Or do you only think of yourself?”

“The Order can protect you,” Hermione was pleading with him, reaching out for his hand but Draco held it firmly away from her.

“I don’t need the Order. I’m a Death Eater, Hermione.” Draco sat up in his bed, the shirt of his riding lower exposing the thick scars that trailed down his once smooth chest. “I AM a Death Eater. You must be some ignorant mudblood to think otherwise.”

Her heart shattered and she recoiled from him, moving to stand over the cot. Hands brought to her chest as if she were having a heart attack, Hermione shouted at him, “YOU’RE LYING.”

“Am I?” Draco asked, pulling the sheets from him and coming to a stand. His wand was drawn from under his pillow and pointed at her throat. “We were never anything serious, Granger. You should’ve figured that out the night I first fucked you. I wanted you and I had you and you were so fucking good that I played around more and more just so I can twist you into my little puppet. Now look at you. Sniveling and sobbing like Moaning Myrtle.”

“But you saved me,” Hermione whispered, backing away toward the curtain when she felt the raw magic against her throat. “You saved me from Greyback…”

“Clouded moment of judgment,” explained Draco, inching closer to her with his wand jabbing into her throat, “I’m only warning you once. Stay the hell away from me. If I corner you alone, there won’t be any hesitation on my part. I WILL kidnap you and bring you to the Dark Lord. May Merlin have mercy on you then because I sure as hell won’t.”

He pulled his wand away from her and gave her a shove with one hand, pushing her back into the curtain. The partition fell to the ground with Hermione tangled in the sheets, the noise climbing the room. Madam Pomfrey came rushing out over the clutter and glanced from Hermione to Draco, her lips parted. Hermione pulled herself free and stood her eyes red with streaks of tears but she said nothing. She looked at Draco and let out a sob – bolting from the room like Ron would if he saw a giant spider in front of him.

“Oh dear,” Madam Pomfrey whispered, moving to Draco who was taking his place back in bed coughing heavily.

Blood began to ooze from the corner of his mouth as Poppy pulled the partition back up and looked at him crossed.

“What did you say to that girl?” She demanded, resting her hands on her hips.

“It’s none of your fucking business,” Draco coughed, throwing up some blood into the sleeve of his shirt, “I’m bleeding again. Get me something!”

Poppy gasped at Draco’s furious words and rushed to get him some potions. Draco brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes, raking his fingers through his hair. He looked up at a figure who loomed over him, his beady black eyes staring into his own.

“Sod off, Professor.” Draco whispered, his voice cracking horribly.

“I spotted Granger running from the infirmary,” Snape replied, situating himself beside Draco as Poppy returned with potions for the Slytherin to drink.

They waited until the medi-witch disappeared before continuing their conversation.

“I assume you two are no longer…”

“We never were,” Draco said with a clearer voice, leaning back onto his cot, “Hermione Granger is a selfless twit who thinks everyone is capable of doing good deeds even if they were born from the ashes of the devil.”

“Hm. Such poetic words from you, my boy.” Snape said with almost half a grin, pulling Draco’s blanket back up to his chest with one hand.

“Not so much poetic as the truth. Sometimes my creativity gets away from me,” Draco shrugged, settling back onto his cot.

“She obviously cares for you,” Draco snorted and crossed his fingers over his chest. “And you obviously…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say things are going to be far different from now,” Draco looked into Snape’s eyes, “I’m not longer a puppet and I don’t plan on moving mountains for a Mudblood. Let’s just say that I’ve finally realized where my loyalties lie and they sure as hell are no where near Hermione Granger. I am my father’s son, after all.”

He rolled onto his side and ignored the semi-shocked gaze Snape gave him. Draco pulled the blanket up to his shoulders just as the potions were beginning to take effect and fell into a sleepless dream. Snape rose from his seat and shook his head almost sadly. He brought his hand to the top of Draco’s crown and whispered.

“Every father should remember that one day his son will follow his example, instead of his advice. For rarely are sons similar to their fathers: most are worse, and a few are better than their fathers,” said Snape in a low whisper, his eyes closing tightly before he rose and walked out of the room.

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Classes resumed as if nothing happened. Hermione remained tight lipped about the incident with Greyback and Harry and Ron were none the wiser. She had spent the remainder of her holiday sitting in her dorm room with the shades drawn, holding her knees to her chest and thinking. About what? Nothing in particular but everything all at once. Dobby was kind enough to bring her meals to her as she refused to go to the Great Hall, not that she was worried that Draco would be there. He didn’t leave the hospital wing for the remainder of the night.

Once school resumed, Draco seemed far more irritated than normal and had seemed to cover his scars up with thick soft cashmere black turtle necks that hugged his body and formed around his tight muscles. He looked a little paler than normal but the contours of his flawless face only looked more attractive. It didn’t matter if he had his hair slicked back or if it was mussed, he reeked of sex. Hermione had a feeling it was because of the marks Greyback left on him – an air of sexual combustion and worse, danger. His eyes were darker almost a mid-night blue during the full moon that month, but he didn’t seem much different. Then again, Hermione didn’t speak to him – she only saw him in passing or during dinner. Draco was a changed man after that event, his appearance was evident, as was his new found mystery that left many girls swooning more in his direction.

Even she couldn’t resist looking at him with such longing. Ginny had noticed Hermione’s stares and often kicked her under the table to save her from the boys – who would eventually catch on if she spent her times gawking at Draco. Pansy Parkinson didn’t seem to notice his transformation either; but was, however, delighted that he now spent every waking moment with her. Every time she saw him, he was with her an arm slung around her shoulder yet his face remained still and cold. At times she thought she felt his eyes pricking into the back of her head but when she turned, he was looking elsewhere. Maybe she was becoming more paranoid as the weeks passed.

By the end of January, Hermione was informed by Professor Snape that her antidote potion was nearing complete but some how the effects of the potions didn’t seem to bother her. She didn’t care about the feeling between her thighs, or how her heart raced when Ron passed her paper and accidentally grazed his hand against her. The feelings were there and, at times, they were overwhelming but Hermione did her best to control them. She wouldn’t tell Harry or Ron about her problems anymore, not that Ron seemed to care. He was too busy trying to figure out the ambiguous notes Luna left him; not to mention whether it was safe to eat a box of Snorlack Snacks she had sent him over Christmas holiday. Ginny was there, of course, to help her through those days where she felt her world crumbling down, holding onto her tightly when she sobbed because of the effects of the potions.

After awhile, her mind and body became numb to the feeling. She felt like a zombie in class, hardly raising her hand yet receiving high marks, and was out of touch with reality. Harry and Ron noticed at first but Ginny made an excuse for her which seemed to sway their attention elsewhere. What the excuse was, Hermione didn’t know but she didn’t care either. Nor did she care when Theodore Nott attempted to talk to her and ended up tripping over a slightly elevated stone, slamming her into the nearest broom closet.

That was the only time she witnessed Draco pay her any attention. He had come around the corner with Pansy slung over him like a barnacle on the side of a ship and stopped dead in his tracks. Nott was busy picking up Hermione’s bag, muttering apologies and Hermione, for the first time in a few weeks, laughed at his poor attempt to gather her belongings. When she joined him to help pick them up Hermione felt the radiating heat of Draco’s eyes on her back as he and Pansy passed them.

“Leave her shit there, Nott,” Malfoy muttered as he passed, “Purebloods should never stoop to the level of a mudblood. She’s lower than dirt and that’s being kind.”

It was similar to the words he had spoken before, yet they will filled with venom and hatred. Whereas before, it was all in jest with faux hatred. Pansy let out a shrill laugh and poked her tongue out at Hermione. She felt the impending urge to slam her book so hard across Pansy’s squashed face that even Picasso couldn’t tell which eye went where. Yet, Draco’s words burned into her very soul, causing her almost broke down then but managed to gather her emotions together and stood stiffly – her hands filled with books. Nott didn’t bother moving away from her, rather he stayed in his same position and helped gather her books from her arms.

“He’s been a prick all month,” Nott growled, placing her books into her satchel, “Ever since the holidays. He’s an arse to the entire Quidditch team, his friends, and even Pansy. Not that he was ever nice to her to begin with but some of the things he says are just down right cruel. Those things he said about you…it’s not true. You deserve to be here just like the rest of us.”

Hermione said nothing but only nodded. She reached out for her bag and slung it over her shoulder, “Since when are you nice to me?”

Nott shrugged, “I spent my break with my cousins in America, since my dad is currently awaiting trial in Azkaban. They’re half-blood and very…open about everything. Bound to pick up a few things about tolerance, especially when you’re knee deep in it.”

“Right,” Hermione mumbled, clutching her bag to her, “Thanks for helping me with my books.”

“It was my fault, I knocked into you. Bloody steps are going to kill some one,” he kicked at the stone step that caused him to fall over her in the first place. “I’ll see you around…or not…whatever.”

He looked away but nodded to Hermione before clamoring up the stairs to get to his next class, leaving Hermione in the hall. She sighed and brought her hand to her bag, reorganizing everything before heading down to the dungeons for her meeting with Snape. The potion was ready and she was a little eager to get it over with. Her life had been turned upside down since that entire incident and she wanted her life to become normal again. Without Draco Malfoy involved.