by Black-Diamonds
 
 

Chapter 16
Scarred Yet No Longer Scared / To Be Loved In Return
 

“We are stuffed...totally stu-uffed...” Hermione walked around her new room throwing pillows
at walls, singing loudly. What was the use of keeping quiet? Draco had gone to tell Pansy...what?
She didn’t exactly know the details of what he had gone to do or say. Hermione only hoped that
Draco didn’t kill her. She also knew that this was probably what he would do. Even if the
pug-faced bitchy little sicko did want her killed in the first place, Hermione didn’t want to wish
death upon her. After all, it was Christmas. She’d only realised this after they had come in from
the poppy fields. The castle, black and neo-roccoco gothic as it was, was covered in blooms of
berry-red holly and curls of green ivy. A light snow had begun to fall on their journey back,
sending down drifts of silver frost flakes.

The door opened silently, but Hermione didn’t need the squeak of ancient door hinges or a creak
of wood to be aware of his presence.

“Draco...” She called out his name freely, savouring the sound of it and all that it meant to her as
it rolled off her tongue.

His arm snaked around her slender waist, his lips gently kissing her neck.

“I’ve...dealt with her.”

“Good...” Hermione murmured as Draco’s hands began to massage her shoulders.

“Don’t you want to know how?”

“If you killed her, I’d rather not have the specific details. Incase you didn’t notice, I don’t
particularly glorify in murder and mayhem.” She turned around and narrowed her eyes at him.
She was speaking the truth. The one thing that gnawed away at her conscience about this was
the fact that it was him and not some auror or ministry man. All the bloods and guts involved
in his life could start to seriously take its toll on her already slightly-frayed sanity. But, she did
not have any doubts of what name was engraved in her heart.

“Oh...I didn’t kill her.” He grinned slyly. “After all...humiliation is far worse than death.” A wave
of his wand revealed an image of Pansy slaving away in the kitchens amongst the house elves.
“One lifetime as a Malfoy has taught me that.” The grin faded and gave way to some semblance
of remorse.

Hermione decided against questioning him on the topic for the time being. It was obviously
wounds from his tormented past. Instead, she layed her head on his shoulder, her hands
clutching his.

“Every breath Hermione, I wonder why you...you even chose to stay. But if this is destiny, I am
glad...” He sighed. “I’m sorry that I’m not everything you deserve. I’m sorry I can’t be someone
else, someone better than who I am. I would change if I could...become a sensitive new age
wizard. Okay,” He grinned with a boyish cheekiness that was so rare to him. “Maybe I wouldn’t
go that far. But I would do anything for you, you know that right? I tried so hard in Hogwarts to
defy everything that was what it was. But it ran through my veins like poison.” He shook his head.
“I’m like that damn muggle - King Midas. Everything I touch is tarnished forever.”

“Shhh...” Hermione shook her head, silently urging him not to continue with his melancholic
condolences for not being a better person. He had always been...well, Draco Malfoy. And he
probably always would be Draco Malfoy. No reason to beat around the sodding bush and deny
it. Denying thy father and refusing thy name, as Shakespeare put it, couldn’t and wouldn’t ever
change anything for him. Denying thy father, for Draco, seemed to have meant a result of getting
beaten up or hurt in some way.

But it was Draco Malfoy she had fallen head over heels and tumbled skyward for. Not some
big world-saving hero(a memory of a dark-haired, emerald-eyed boy ran through her mind),
or some well-meaning, surely-in-denial but seriously-obsessed friend(no need to mention a
particular male Weasley)...but Draco Malfoy. Glacial, brittle, darkly alluring creature that
possessed an undeniable splendour in himself. Hermione could not imagine him any other way.

She lifted Draco’s hand slightly, and gently pulled away the dark sleeves of his robes, revealing
the Dark Mark that had been stamped there before he had become master over everything in
the shadows of night. Hermione brought his arm up towards her, her eyes still gazing at the mark.

Through lowered eyelashes she looked up at him with almost childlike innocence, and softly
kissed the mark on the smooth flesh of his wrist. The moment seemed to hang, suspended in a
crystal bauble in time. Everything seemed surreal...the crackle of the fire, to the pale scarred
skin beneath rose pink lips.

“Your scars don’t make you who you are Draco. Had it not been for all that has been in our
lives, we probably would not be in this moment.”

The door suddenly swung open, and a familiar tall dark form strode in, not caring or not noticing
how in-the-moment the other two people were. Draco was beside himself with annoyance, and
he glared at Snape, his eyes flashing dangerously at the older man.

“Gods Snape, can’t the Dark Lord even get a private moment alone?!”

Snape ducked to the side as a heavy metal bookend went flying past his head. He was about
to make some sour Snape-ish comment when a familiar face popped up in the fire place, causing
Hermione to gasp in shock, and Draco to chuckle softly at her sudden surprise. That was, until,
he heard the news his loyal servant had to give him from within the crackling flames. Afterwards,
he paled ever more slightly, and gripped Hermione's shoulder tightly as if to keep himself from
feeling quite ill.
 
 
 

a/n:
part of the title('to be loved in return') is from the song "nature boy".
 

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Chapter 17