Author's Chapter Notes:
Hermione sympathizes with Draco's pain, plus a surprise visit from Ron and Harry!
Chapter 25: Painful Dark Mark

In mid-March, Hermione walked back to the Head Suite after studying late with Ginny in Gryffindor Tower. Before the attacks, they would have studied in the Library, but now the Library closed at nine. Technically, Hermione was not supposed to walk back to the suite alone, late at night, but she rationalized it by considering it part of her late night rounds as Head Girl. All the hallways were empty; the students seemed to be following McGonagall’s new rules.

When she entered the suite, Hermione was not surprised to find the room dark, the only light coming off the fire that still burned in the hearth. As she crossed the room, she saw a shadow moving quietly on the sofa. Draco was quickly drying his eyes. Clearly, he had been sitting in the dark, crying. Hermione dropped her books on her desk and crossed over to the sofa, sitting down beside Draco, who she noticed was holding his left forearm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Draco didn’t respond at first. Hermione scooted closer to Draco and reached out to touch his left hand. “Tell me.”

“It burns. I’m not sure why, it just happens – it’s very painful.”

Hermione looked down at Draco’s forearm. In the dark, she could barely make out the remnants of the Dark Mark, which had faded to a grayish shadow, with some slight puckering scars.

“It’s gone away, you can barely see it,” Hermione noted.

“Well, it faded when Voldemort died, and since then Madam Pomfrey has been giving me a potion to make it fade away more completely. But it was put there by Dark magic, so it will never go away completely.”

“Does it always hurt?”

“No, only once in a while. It hasn’t hurt in a long time, actually.”

“Do you think it means Voldemort has come back from the dead?” Hermione asked nervously.

“No – that was what I thought the first time it happened. I ran to McGonagall at the time, terrified. But I do think it may mean some Death Eater somewhere is either being killed or tortured or something.”

“So, it’s like a connection to all the other Death Eaters?”

“Yeah, that’s what I suspect. I’m not really sure.”

“That’s horrible, I mean, I tend to, you know, hate all the Death Eaters, so being connected to them, well…” Hermione felt uncomfortable. She didn’t really think of Draco as a Death Eater anymore. She certainly didn’t hate him.

“Don’t pity me, Granger. I hate pity.”

“I don’t pity you, Malfoy. You just confuse me. You are a big gray spot in my otherwise black and white world.”

“Should I go back to being completely horrible to you?” Draco asked sarcastically, then he winced as the pain surged through his arm again.

“Can’t Madam Pomfrey give you something for the pain?”

“No, she’s tried, but nothing seems to work.”

“Maybe I can do some research in the Restricted Section of the Library – figure out how this type of connection works and see if there’s some way to help you lessen it somehow.”

“You don’t have to do that. You have enough on your plate already. I’ve withstood much worse pain than this, you know.”

“I want to help.” Hermione paused, curious. “Did Voldemort torture you when you didn’t kill Dumbledore?”

“Yes, and then again after you and the others escaped from Malfoy Manor. He figured out that I recognized you and pretended not to know who you were. My Occlumency skills are not good enough to keep Voldemort out of my mind; he saw right through me. Merlin, Hermione, I’m so sorry I did nothing to stop Aunt Bellatrix from torturing you!” Draco swiped at his eyes again.

“There’s nothing you could have done except get yourself killed.”

“Come on, Hermione, we both know I acted like a coward. I’ll always regret that.” He turned away from Hermione, in an attempt to hide his crying from her.

Hermione leaned over and touched his face gently, softly wiping away his tears. She leaned her head towards his and slowly and gently kissed him. She could taste the salt of his tears.

After a second, Draco began kissing Hermione back – softly and sweetly, nothing like either the drunken kisses he had forced on her months ago or their frenzied snog session after their virus-fighting potion worked.

After a few moments, their kisses started heating up. Hermione found herself on top of Malfoy, their tongues dueling and his hands roaming up and down her back. Malfoy slowly moved his hands around to her sides and began to softly touch the sides of her breasts, the same place he had used the tickle charm on her. She ached for him to touch her directly, but felt shy about turning into his hands. Luckily, he moved there himself and Hermione gasped at the sensation. Draco pulled back.

“Too much? Should I stop?”

“No, keep going,” Hermione said shyly, leaning in to kiss him again. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed kissing him; she felt as though she never wanted to stop – it felt so good. She knew it was wrong. He tasted different from Ron, his mouth moved differently from Ron’s. How could she be doing this? Then Draco touched her breast again and all thought ceased.

Draco moved to kiss her neck and Hermione felt tears form in the corner of her eyes. Too many emotions coursed through her, arousal, affection for Draco, guilt over Ron.

At that moment, there came a pounding at the door.

“Wake up, Hermione! Let us in, Hermione! It’s us, we’re here!”

Hermione pulled away from Draco’s embrace, eyes wide. “Holy fucking shit!” she gasped. Draco sat back quickly, shock on his face.

“What the hell? It’s after midnight. Why are they here? Did you know they were coming?”

“Obviously not!” Hermione hissed, trying to pull herself together. When did Draco unbutton her shirt?

Draco stood up, his erection obvious through his pajama pants. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at Hermione.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Trust me.” Draco muttered some incantation and her clothes and hair went back to normal. He did the same for himself and was immediately presentable. No one would ever guess they’d been grinding into each other just moments before. Hermione didn’t want to think about how many times Malfoy had used that particular spell. He moved over by the stairs to his room and gestured for Hermione to open the door.

“Ron, Harry! What are you doing here?” Hermione said loudly as she opened the door.

“Oh good, you’re still awake!” Ron said and he swept Hermione up in a hug and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Hermione hoped Draco’s spell had somehow removed his taste from her mouth. Ron seemed unfazed, so it must have done the job.

“It’s the middle of the night. What’s going on? Is everyone alright? I didn’t clear this visit with McGonagall…” Hermione rambled on nervously, but fortunately, Ron and Harry simply laughed at her confusion.

“We got four tickets to the Holyhead Harpies versus Chudley Cannons Quidditch match tomorrow! We plan to stay here, then leave via Portkey with you and Ginny first thing tomorrow morning!” Ron was exuberant.

“Can you just keep it down?” Malfoy grumbled. “I’ve got an early Quidditch practice tomorrow.”

“Good luck with that, Malfoy. We’ve heard about the Slytherin team this year. Oh and two, right? And favored to lose against Hufflepuff in May?” Ron laughed. Malfoy just turned and walked up to his room. He managed to catch Hermione’s eye as he closed his door. Sadness that extended beyond a lousy Quidditch record was visible to her.

‘What am I going to do?’ Hermione thought. ‘I can’t sleep with Ron tonight, not after snogging Malfoy. Snogging Malfoy, God, what was I thinking?’ Hermione grabbed her head, overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong, Hermione? Are you okay?” Ron looked concerned.

“No, Ron, actually I think I feel a migraine coming on,” Hermione lied.

“Oh no, not those horrible Muggle miggrins!” Ron exclaimed.

“Yes, I’d better go see Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said. “She’ll probably want to keep me overnight for observation.”

“For a migraine?” Harry said skeptically.

“Oh yeah,” Ron said. “Hermione’s miggrins are really bad,” Ron explained.

“But there’s Muggle medicine for that,” Harry answered.

“Ah, those remedies don’t work well for me,” Hermione lied again, although all this lying was actually making her head start to hurt. “Look, feel free to stay here tonight, but I don’t think I’ll likely be up for going to the Quidditch match first thing in the morning. I’m really sorry – it sounds like a great game – and you came all this way for me.” Hermione tried to look sad.

“Well, we had to get Ginny too,” Ron explained.

‘Sometimes he can be a complete idiot,’ Hermione thought and then immediately suppressed the thought. Damn, Malfoy had gotten into her head somehow!

“Maybe someone else can take use Hermione’s ticket?” Harry wondered.

“Yes, you should go to the Gryffindor common room and ask Ginny. I’m sure she’ll find someone eager to go to such an important match,” Hermione urged.

“Don’t you want us to go with you to the infirmary?” Ron asked.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Send me an owl about the game okay?” Hermione kissed Ron chastely and left for the infirmary. She was sure she could convince Madam Pomfrey that something was wrong with her.

“Okay, then,” Ron said, picking up his knapsack. “Harry, we might as well bunk over in the Gryffindor Tower, since, um, well, since Hermione’s not going to be here tonight.”

“But it’s so late…” Harry pondered.

“Come on, mate,” Ron said. “I’m sure Ginny will be super happy to see us.” Harry wasn’t so sure Ginny would be quite so pleased to see both of them at nearly one a.m., but the chance to be with her was worth the negative repercussions of showing up with Ron in tow.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Malfoy appeared at the top of the stairs. “Where’s Hermione?” he asked.

“Oh, she’s got one of her miggrins,” Ron answered. “It’s a Muggle thing.”

“It’s called a migraine and it’s a type of painful headache that makes you nauseous and lose your peripheral vision,” Harry explained. “This isn’t the first time she’s had one, apparently. I’m sure you’ve seen her suffer through a few this year.”

Malfoy had not, but he wasn’t going to reveal that to Potter and the Weasel.

“So she’s in her room?” Draco asked.

“No, she’s gone to the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey.” Ron answered. “What do you care? Don’t you have early morning Quidditch practice with the worst Quidditch team in Hogwarts’ history?”

“Yes, I do. I was just coming out here to tell you to keep it down.”

“No need. We’re going to Gryffindor Tower, since Hermione’s not going to be here.”

“What, she’ll be in the infirmary all night? Won’t Pomfrey give her something and send her back up here?”

“Hermione didn’t think so and we’ve got an early morning Portkey for the game, so we’re not going to stay here with you,” Ron replied.

“So she’s not going to the game?”

“Are you still sleeping, Malfoy? Go back to bed. None of this concerns you anyway,” Ron said hostilely.

“Why are you here in the middle of the night anyway? Couldn’t you have come at a decent hour? There’s a curfew in place at Hogwarts right now,” Malfoy snarled.

“Lavender gave me these tickets for my birthday – she just managed to get them at the very last minute,” Ron answered.

“Ron, it’s none of Malfoy’s business where you got the tickets.” Harry shot Ron a look that told him he’d said too much.

“Right, let’s go.”

When Ron and Harry exited the room, Malfoy immediately rushed back into his room and changed out of his pajamas, into whatever clothes were at hand. He left the suite and headed immediately to the infirmary, swearing at Ron the whole time. “What kind of asshole boyfriend leaves his girlfriend in the infirmary to go to a Quidditch match? Selfish bastard!”

When he got to the infirmary, he found Hermione sitting up in bed, peacefully sipping on some tea. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, as the infirmary was essentially empty, save Hermione.

“Draco!” Hermione was surprised to see him.

“Is that some sort of headache relieving tea?” Draco asked as he pulled up a chair beside Hermione’s bed.

“Um, no,” Hermione confessed awkwardly. “I don’t actually have a headache.”

“You lied?” Draco smiled, pleased by her misbehavior.

“Well, yes. I couldn’t exactly go from kissing you to kissing Ron in the same night!” Hermione whispered.

Malfoy smirked. “I’m sure that would have been a huge letdown.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’ve put me in a very awkward position,” she accused.

“Me? You kissed me this time, remember?”

“Oh God,” Hermione moaned. “What am I going to do? I have a boyfriend who loves me!”

“I think he loves Quidditch more than he loves you,” Draco muttered.

“Seriously, Malfoy! This… thing between us – it cannot happen again. I am in a committed relationship and this is wrong. Please, promise me you’ll make an effort here.”

“Fine, but I don’t think the Weasel deserves you.”

“Oh, and you do?” Hermione argued.

“No, no I certainly do not,” Draco replied glumly.

“You’re my friend and I care about you, very much, but we can’t be more than that.”

“I’m glad you’re my friend, Hermione, you may be my only one.”

“What about Millicent? She’s crazy about you or at least she used to be,” Hermione asked, a bit sarcastically.

“But I’m not crazy about her,” Draco replied. “And to be honest, it just doesn’t seem right to be with her, you know, but not…” Draco trailed off. After a moment he changed the subject. “So, what are you going to do? Hide out here all night?”

“I pretty much have to, what with Ron and Harry in our suite.”

“Oh, they’re not there. They bailed – went to Gryffindor to find someone else to take to the Quidditch match tomorrow.”

“Well, that was fast.” Hermione seemed a little let down.

“Once the Weasel figured out he wasn’t gonna be getting any…”

“Draco!” Hermione warned.

“It’s true – what can I say?”

“Nothing, just say nothing.”

“Fine, mind if I get more comfortable?” Malfoy stood up and sat on the infirmary bed next to Hermione.

“What are you doing?”

“Hanging out with my sick friend who’s all alone in the infirmary,” Draco replied, matter of factly.

“Don’t you have an early morning Quidditch practice?”

“Yes, but unlike some people, Quidditch isn’t the most important thing in my life.”

Hermione tossed a sugar cube at Draco and smiled.

“So tell me, Hermione, what do you think about mixing Ashwinder eggs and Scurvy grass to our Amortentia potion assignment for next week?...”
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