Battle Scars
Pairing: Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy
Summary: Returning to Hogwarts as a professor, Hermione bitterly encounters Draco Malfoy as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, throwing everything into chaos.
Hatred and lust slowly begins to burn between them, though only as they recall their final, secret year at Hogwarts.
Chapter word count: 1.5k
Link: Battle Scars
SEXUAL THEMES AHEAD
Type: Slow burn romance
CHAPTER THREE
"Located on the offshore island of Moku o Lo'e– a Hawiian patch called The Mokulua Islands– three dragon eggs were found, all belonging to a woman named Dae-Ner-Eees. Can you guess what her legacy entailed?" Professor (Cuthbert) Binns asked, his phantom twinkling with the sunshine that streamed through the grand window.
A small girl in the front stuck her hand up, though gave the wrong answer.
A second tried, though to no avail.
Professor Cuthbert looked to the back, specifically to where I had been lumped together with a few Hufflepuff girls and a Ravenclaw boy.
I stared impassively through him, focusing on the trees that blew with the warm breeze outside.
"I… err… okay," He cleared his throat, "moving on."
Confidence wasn't an issue when it came to answering questions. I had read the text three times over, and knew the legacy of Dae-Ner-Eees seamlessly– or the lack thereof, as she was murdered tragically by her lover. Though I simply wasn't interested any longer in academia, nor what Hogwarts had to offer.
What was the point?
Why were we playing happy families when people were buried? When friends were laid to rest?
When Harry still woke up screaming?
Professor Cuthbert had charmed a few pop-quiz papers to our desks, and I glared with hollow eyes at the blank page in front of me, resisting the urge to walk out. To be compliant, I signed my name and looked emptily toward the front, trying to sift through my demons when one managed to manifest in real time.
Toward the left, Draco Malfoy's eyes were glued passively in my direction, observing every breath, blink and movement I made. Instinctively, I glared back, screwing my face into disgust at the simple thought of his attention.
Alas, he didn't look away.
I slumped my cheek into my hand and began dawdling answers, trying to ignore the piercing blue stare that was visible from the corner of my eye.
I realized my behavior was a little out of the ordinary, though it didn't need an audience.
I finished up the paper within ten minutes and charmed it over to Professor Cuthbert, giving a small wave to announce my leaving. He didn't say much, nodding without argument, seeming a little lost in thought himself. Without a word, and wand at my side, I waltzed out of the classroom and roamed down the deserted corridors– knowing Ron and Harry wouldn't be out just yet.
No, they had the substitute teacher for Potions, and not a lot was left to the imagination with her displayed chest and keen smile.
I'd asked to skip it altogether, knowing the perverted stares of my friends would end up irritating me more than any mock exam could.
The gardens were beautiful today, pruned by none other than Pomona Sprout and her endless supply of wild seeds. I admired their pretty flowers and crunched on a red apple, sitting on the window-sill that overlooked her cabbage patches and Hagrid's new flock of pumpkins.
Hogwarts had done its best to rebuild after the war, though there were still scorched patches where the death-eaters had come, and debris where chunks of the castle had crumbled to nothing.
Another sweet bite of apple skin and my mind was galavanting over the past month, and how Ron hadn't so much as given me a hug. He wasn't the most affectionate of men – something I actually enjoyed – though it was clear we were destined to be friends. The damage between us far too grave to heal.
I'm lost in daydreams about battle scars and pumpkin pie when a shadow disrupts my silence.
It's him again, though this time, he's not being shy about his unwavering stare.
"What do you want?" I scoffed, his presence a clear irritation to my day.
Draco nestled his shoulder against the wall, a handful of books in one hand and nothing in the other; his thumb absentmindedly playing with a signet ring of emerald green.
"What happened to you?" He asked, too curious to be polite.
Manners had never been his strong suit.
"That's rude." I objected, feeling the urge to leave. I wouldn't though – not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeming hurt.
"The incessantly knowledgeable Hermione Granger isn't here anymore. She's… troubled, anguished. Different."
I'm trying to disguise my glare, though its coming across piping hot. "And I suppose you think it's your duty to start a conversation with someone equally as damaged as you?"
I expect him to retreat from the sting in my words, though he smirks; his mouth all lopsided and smug.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" I ask, a little more exasperated this time.
"I'm concerned."
"You're concerned?"
"Yes. It's a mortal emotion that surfaces intense stress."
"I know what the definition of concern is. What I'm trying to say is, we're not friends."
"I'm aware."
My eyes narrowed, and I felt all the heat of the sun against my face – turning my skin all irritated and red. Or maybe that was the frustration coming out.
"I'm not in the mood for games."
"Who said I was playing a game?" Draco angled his head to the side, getting a better view of what he was so intensely staring at – me or my problems, I wasn't sure.
"Has your guilty conscience finally caught up with you after all these years?" I asked.
"Something like that." He replied to my surprise, with no hint of humor behind his words.
We remained in a loop of silence, both watching each other in a confused light – like two predators who had wandered into a lamb's den, expecting bloodshed though finding familiarity in fangs, scars and history.
There was… an understanding. Though I wouldn't so easily fall captive to his menacing ways.
The twelve o'clock bell tolled from Gryffindor tower, and students flocked from their sessions with an appetite for lunch. Myself included.
I tossed the half-eaten carcass of my apple into the flower den, and a swarm of 'fang fletchers' chomped hungrily down on the fruit, getting their fill.
"This has been nice," I readjusted the bag strap over my shoulder, "though I'm going. I'll see you."
As I turned to leave, Draco's hand snared around my wrist, keeping us close.
"You're losing it." He said below his breath. "The others won't see it because they're too wrapped up in their own drama, and you've always been the independent one who doesn't need a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand. Though you're a thread away from cutting all ties to who you used to be."
His words burnt like a midnight sun, and I tried to yank myself free– though his hold wouldn't loosen.
"And how would you know?" I said spitefully through my teeth.
Draco twisted his grip and exposed the written scar on my forearm– 'mudblood' seared into my flesh forever, thanks to Bellatrix and her gift of the Cruciatus Curse.
I looked down at it with haunted eyes, though also toward the death-eater tattoo that possessed most of his milky skin. Another form of abuse… another manipulation from Voldemort's uprising.
I freed my arm away, scared and silent– forced to face the underbelly of my nightmares, of the pain that had ensued so many months prior – a torment that would stay as long as I drew clean breath.
"Let's not forget who gave me that scar." I snapped, feeling the sob build in my chest. "You will always be an enemy to me."
I left him standing in the dark shadows of the corridor, racing past the great hall and to my chambers.
-------------
"Miss Granger, is everything alright?"
"Hm?"
"You didn't touch any of your dinner."
Professor Mcgonagall had invited me into her private quarters– a desk, a quill and some scattered paperwork all that separated us from the elephant in the room.
"I've had a long journey." I excused myself, forcing a gentle smile.
"Of course, of course." She nodded, though clearly had a little more on her mind. "How is home life?"
I was taken aback, though obliged her all the same. "It's okay."
"And Mr Potter? Mr Weasley?"
"Causing havoc in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Minerva smiled, clearly pleased that the trauma hadn't stricken them of their mischievous ways.
"I'm sorry I didn't inform you about Mr Malfoy's position, it was very last minute."
My smile went stiff, though it didn't fall. "That's quite alright."
"I know you and Mr Malfoy have a… difficult past," Minerva adjusted in her leather chair, "though I was hoping you could use this time to patch up a few old wounds."
I couldn't help myself– my face reading as clearly as my thoughts spewed.
"Close your mouth Miss Granger, I beg."
I didn't even realize it had popped open, though I pinched my lips together all the same. "I haven't seen Mr Malfoy in a very long time, and I must admit… I was 'surprised', should we say, at his aversion to me."
Minerva straightened. "Ah."
"Yes."
"Well, may I propose you both work together? Slytherin and Gyffindor will be joining classes this year for Charms and Defense Against The Dark Arts."
My stomach knotted.
Joy.
"Really, Miss Granger. You need to work on your facial reactions if you're to work with children."
"Sorry, Professor."
"Very well."
I returned to my bed chambers a little after midnight, and found my case neatly packed on the bed.
The room was sizable, with burgundy interior and gold trim– the view from the window granting access to the back of the castle, and a peak of the grounds.
As homely as I remembered it all to be.
I cranked open the glass-paned doors and opened up the room to the breeze of the balcony, letting in the sweet smoke of the fresh forest and the fizzing smell of practical magic. Lilac dressing the sky and the moon winking from above.
I thought about him intimately for the first time in forever– not allowing myself to truly remember what we were, and how he made me feel, until this very moment.
Why did he hate me so much?
Why was I no longer the thing that made him weak?
I unclipped my hair from the long braid it fought in and my curls sprung freely to my waist– a little damp from the rain, though still as chaotic. My lilac robes shortly followed, landing as a sodden heap on the floor– needing to be washed at some point, though not now. No, now I wanted time alone to myself– a moment to breathe, to mull over the day… to speculate my newfound hatred for Draco Malfoy.
I felt thirteen again.
I approached the balcony in my silk undergarments and breathed in the night air, resting my elbows on the stone wall and letting my hands lull lazily over the edge– my curls dangling just as freely.
"Hermione," I could almost hear him say now, his tone having always been aggressive, always cruel. He had a meanness to him that could make the hardest heart recoil. Though in the comfort of a quiet chamber, that darkness softened into light– and his growled words became panted, weak ones.
"Hermione," his voice now moaned in my head.
"Put your hands behind your back like a good girl."
A flutter shot through my stomach and I opened my eyes, staring breathlessly into nothingness.
I needed to be careful. I couldn't let myself fall back into the toxic trap that we once found ourselves in.
That I, Hermione Granger, became submissive to.
I stepped away from the wall and happened to look down as I did– catching the edge of a jacket as it snapped around a corner. Disappearing into the goodnight.
It was him, I knew it.
He had been watching me.
Don't fight me, he had once said.
We're meant to be together.
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