Sorry I Avada'd You
“You needed twelve fit blokes, and you didn’t ask me to be one of them?” Greg Goyle said with a frown, leaning against the counter.
“You must have slipped my mind.” Hermione replied. Malfoy snorted next to her, and she elbowed him in the side. “The ball should be fun, though. You’re both coming, aren’t you?” Goyle nodded, smiling over at his girlfriend.
“If you could try and contain yourself this year, Gallagher.” Malfoy drawled. Phoebe turned around from the shelf she’d been browsing.
“You’ve got to cut me some slack, we didn’t all grow up going to magical balls.”
“Neither did Granger, and yet she still managed to maintain a sense of decorum upon seeing a moving ice sculpture for the first time.” He shot back.
“Poncy arsehole.” Hermione muttered. Malfoy grinned at her. “I’m not sure if there’s a theme outside of the calendar this time, so it shouldn’t be quite so unfamiliar an environment.”
It had been something of a surprise when Gregory Goyle, famous pureblooded slytherin, announced that he’d been dating a muggle. The boys had a minor breakdown at the time, denouncing it as simply impossible. Then they all met Phoebe, and suddenly it made sense. Yes, she was pretty and amiable, but there was something indescribable about the two of them together that just felt right. Like they’d always been meant to find each other, somehow. It was all awfully close to divination, a thought that made Hermione’s skin crawl, but it didn’t stop her from becoming fond of Phoebe. She was an incredibly talented writer, and the freedom her job gave her meant that she was able to travel around with Goyle for his quidditch matches with the Magpies. She found herself a little jealous of the two of them. Hermione had always hoped to find someone that loved her as completely as Goyle and Phoebe did each other.
“I hope you and Pansy convinced this one to pose for you.” Phoebe said, waggling her eyebrows at Malfoy.
“Bet you jumped at the opportunity to get your kit off, mate.” Goyle smirked.
“Mm, I don’t know. There was a slight hesitation.” Hermione replied. “He agreed to do September, anyway.”
“Ooh, back to school time. Are you a naughty professor?” Phoebe asked. Malfoy snorted.
“Theo took that theme for January. What I’m doing is between myself and Pans. You’ll just have to be patient.”
“Wait, you won’t tell me either?” Hermione turned to him, and he shook his head.
“Especially not you. It’s a surprise.”
“I get worried when you make that face.” She said, looking at the familiar, scheming smirk.
“I still have nightmares about that face sometimes.” Goyle agreed. Hermione didn’t really know why her stomach flipped at the news. It was a ridiculous reaction to have over a bloody calendar shoot, of all things. It was definitely fine. Probably fine.
Malfoy simply chuckled, before wrapping up the few items Phoebe had placed on the counter. Hermione shared a concerned glance with Goyle. Pansy relentlessly teased her about her feelings for Malfoy - feelings, she was always keen to point out, that did not exist. The issue was that they didn’t not exist either. She definitely felt differently about Blaise and Theo than she did Malfoy, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. What she did know was that she was content with what they had and was decidedly uninterested in fucking that up. As such, she did what she did best. She changed the subject.
“How long are you two here, Pheebs? You can come dress shopping with me, Pans, and Narcissa if you have time.”
The muggle girl squealed, clapping excitedly and confirming that she’d love to. “I’ve learnt to associate that noise with my bank account being decimated.” Goyle said with a sigh.
“As if you can’t afford the odd treat for your loving doting girlfriend.” Phoebe shot back. Hermione smiled fondly at the two, glancing up at Malfoy briefly and finding him doing exactly the same.
***
Eighth Year
“Granger?” Malfoy called. A moment passed, and he appeared in her door frame, leaning against it and folding his arms.
“Malfoy.” She replied, folding up her letter to Harry and placing it aside, ready to take to the owlery later.
“The others will be here in a bit. You’re welcome to join, if you want, but I thought I should say that Goyle is coming too. McGonagall’s letting him visit, he’s using her floo. I didn’t want to blindside you if you didn't want to see him.”
She tilted her head as she looked at him. She’d come to learn that he could be quite thoughtful when he wanted to be. “I’ll join you, if that’s ok? Goyle apologised to me months ago.”
“Ok.” He nodded, peeling himself off the doorframe and sloping back towards the main area of their common room.
It was stomach churningly awkward for a while, but once they were all a little tipsy, if not well on their way to fully sloshed, the awkwardness eased. Then it turned into something else altogether, because they started swapping war stories. Her mind healer probably would have passed out if they knew.
“It’s weird, you know. That most of us were in the room fire.” Goyle said, reclined in one of the arm chairs, staring up at the ceiling.
“The what?” Theo asked, frowning. Pansy also looked confused from her place next to him.
“Goyle lit the room of hidden things on fire during the battle.” Hermione answered.
“We found the golden wankers in there and thought we’d be covered in glory if we turned them in.” Blaise added, staring at the firewhiskey in his glass.
“I couldn’t control the fiendfyre. Was a complete prat for thinking I ever could.” Goyle said. “I’m sorry I tried to avada you, by the way, Granger.”
Theo spluttered. “You can’t just casually apologise for something like that.”
Hermione shrugged. “What else is he supposed to say? I’d bet it wouldn’t have worked if it had hit me anyway. He wouldn’t have meant it.”
“Crabbe would have.” Malfoy muttered bitterly, and Goyle made a loud noise of agreement.
“Oh, he absolutely would have. He got exactly what he deserved.”
“Which was…?” Pansy asked.
Malfoy went silent.
“The whole room went up eventually. We were all trapped. Golden boys saved me and blondie.” Blaise filled the silence, speaking in far too nonchalant a tone for what he was saying. Hermione glanced at Malfoy. His face was passive, but his fingers were white-knuckled around his glass.
“We found some brooms and had to fly out. Spotted those two climbing up one of the piles of chairs, and I knew we couldn’t just leave them, regardless of the sentiments held between us at the time. Harry pulled Malfoy onto his broom, Ron did the same with Zabini. I’m terrible at flying, so I wasn’t any use. I tried to find Crabbe and Goyle, but it was too late.” Hermione said.
“Crabbe fell. He was climbing with us.” Malfoy finally explained, his voice flat.
“You saw…?” She trailed off.
“Like I said. Got what he deserved.” Goyle said darkly. “I stumbled out of the far door. Assumed I was the only one who got out at all until I saw you all later, when it all kicked off outside.”
“Merlin.” Theo whispered, downing the rest of his drink.
“Did any of you get burnt?” Hermione asked, the alcohol loosening her lips.
“Other than Vince, you mean?” Goyle replied darkly. Pansy huffed.
“I’ve got a patch on my leg. Took them ages to stop it burning in Mungo’s. Weasley’s bloody shite flying, I’m telling you.” Blaise said, pulling up his trouser leg to show the scarred blistering.
“Ron has something similar. I’ve always wondered.” She replied.
“Boy wonder didn’t burn you on a flaming chair then?” Theo asked Malfoy, who shook his head.
“Swerved it all. He’s a…” He sighed. “Good flyer.”
Hermione giggled. “That sounded like it physically hurt you to admit.” He scowled at her over the rim of his glass.
“I’m surprised you managed to get out of there, Granger. You’ve always avoided brooms like the plague.” Pansy pointed out, and Hermione shrugged.
“I can fly in a pinch. I hate it and I’m dreadful at it, but with the adrenaline going and a million other things on my mind, I guess I didn’t think about it as much. I mean, we were in the room to look for one of the horcruxes.”
“You should write a book. You, Potter, and Weasley.” Goyle replied suddenly. “About everything you did to defeat the Dark Lord.”
“From a historical, documenting events point of view, or from a tell-all gossiping one?” She asked.
“What’s the difference?” Theo smiled.
“Well, the genre would dictate which stories make it in. Do people want thousands of words about what led to the war in the first place, or do they want to know about the three of us flying out of Gringotts on the back of a dragon?”
“Oh, now it all makes sense. You’ve been putting up with Malfoy because you’re a seasoned dragon rider.” Goyle grinned, and Pansy tossed a cushion at him. Hermione laughed, the alcohol presumably making her less offended than she would have been otherwise. Malfoy was scowling again.
“Granger, some firstie asked me about Skeeter yesterday. Did you really torture her or have they made that up?” Blaise asked, his legs tossed over the side of his chair.
“I kept her in a jar for a bit. In her animagus form.” She replied.
“Sorry, you did what?” Theo blinked, as Pansy burst out laughing.
“I adore you. I really do.” She got out between her cackling.
“Why did you…keep her?” Malfoy asked.
Hermione shrugged. “I didn’t like what she was writing about me and Harry. I found out she was an unregistered animagus and captured her, kept her on a shelf in my room. Now she always owls me before she prints anything about me or my friends.”
“We’ll make a snake of you yet.” He replied, sounding slightly mystified, a small smile on his face.
***
It had been a hard day. Hermione and Blaise had dealt with several difficult customers out in the shop, who were looking for remedies they just didn’t have. Apparently, there had been a minor outbreak of black cat flu that they weren’t prepared to deal with, and very quickly ran out of the potions that almost every customer was after. Theo and Malfoy were encamped in the brewing room, making up new stock as quickly as they could, but it wasn’t a simple thing to make and they were having to turn people away. Hermione was sending thankful prayers up to Merlin when closing time finally rolled around. The boys left quickly after she offered to lock up, looking as tired as she felt. She went to leave her office, but noticed Malfoy had left his bag in his rush to get home, and so, sighing heavily, she picked it up and floo’d to the Manor, knowing he had promised to join Narcissa for dinner that evening.
“Miss Hermione! It is being too long since Pipsy has been seeing Miss.” The house elf greeted her immediately as she stepped from the fireplace. Hermione smiled.
“I hadn’t realised I’d not visited in a while. I’m sorry, Pipsy. I promise to come over more often. You can show me your puzzles.” The elf beamed up at her.
“Pipsy would be liking that very much. Why is Miss Hermione being here now? Mr Draco is only being here for a few minutes.”
“He left his bag in the office. I was just bringing it for him before I go home myself. Do you know where he is?” She asked.
“Mr Draco was going straight upstairs to his room. Mr Draco was looking very tired to Pipsy.” Pipsy replied, and Hermione nodded in thanks before heading for the stairs. She’d come to know the Manor fairly well in recent years. With the renovation works ongoing, the house was becoming far more of a home, and she’d grown to quite like the place. Stepping around a pile of wallpaper and a stray bucket, she entered Malfoy’s quarters. The first time she’d seen that he had his own suite of rooms, she’d mocked him mercilessly for it. If she was honest, she mocked him for it every time she visited. She figured it was necessary to keep him humble, especially as the man had two homes he flitted between. Crossing his sitting room, she knocked lightly on his bedroom door, wondering if he was asleep.
“Mother?” He asked from inside, and she huffed out a laugh.
“I don’t think so, no.” She replied, placing his bag down next to a fancy oak sideboard. A second later, the door opened.
“Miss me already, Granger?” He asked with a smirk.
“You left your bag.” She said, pointing at it.
“Oh. You didn’t have to bring it all this way.” He replied. She shrugged.
“You seemed in a rush to leave, I figured you wouldn’t want to head back to grab it.”
He sighed, suddenly looking as tired as Pipsy said. “The vapours from brewing the cat potions always aggravate my scar.” He said, waving a vague hand at his neck. “I haven’t worked out which ingredient it is that does it yet.”
She frowned. “You should have said. Blaise or I would have swapped with you. Is it alright now?”
He offered her a strained smile. “Not really. The salve Theo and I brewed works well, but the angle is awkward for me to do it myself. I’m not overly keen on asking Mother to do it for me, I didn’t want her to have the reminder.” Despite not being sent to Azkaban, the Ministry had still seen fit to brand Malfoy with a number. Hermione had supposed it was in preparation, some vindictive guard assuming that the case was a done deal. The thing was imbued with magic that dramatically slowed the healing process, to drag out the pain for whoever had been branded. She could understand his hesitation to show it to his mother - it was an ugly thing that he usually glamoured, still leaking and raw as if it had been done only yesterday. She huffed, and barged her way into his room.
“Sit.” She pointed at his bed, and he began to protest.
“Granger, I don’t want to ask you to have to do it either. It’s fine, I’ll just-“
“Sit, Malfoy.” She repeated, grabbing the pot of salve from his dresser and raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask, I’m offering. They’re very different.”
He huffed as he sat down on the very edge of his bed, looking uncomfortable. “You have quite an aggressive bedside manner, you know that?”
“Remove the glamour, please.” She replied with a smile. A smile that immediately dropped when she saw the inflamed runes carved into the skin of his neck. The scar wasn’t just a number, not just another cruel mark. The angry edges of it shone under the candlelight, inflamed and unnatural. She’d seen scars before - she had plenty of her own, after all - but this was different. This was deliberate. This was designed to remind him of what he could have been. What some people assumed he had become. “They shouldn’t have done this to you.” She whispered more fiercely than she’d intended as she gently tugged his shirt out of the way. Unprompted, Malfoy undid the top few buttons, pulling it down over his shoulder. His lips twitched, but there was no real humour behind it.
“It’s a short list of people that would agree with you.” He replied softly, wincing as she began to apply the salve.
“Malfoy, you have an Azkaban number when you didn’t go to Azkaban. That isn’t fair in any sense of the word. This is pain you don’t deserve to be in.”
“I suppose I think it doesn’t matter. When you’ve got one brand everyone knows about, what’s one more?”
“Neither of them should be anyone else’s business.” She muttered, rubbing his neck lightly.
“You’re too kind to me.” He replied.
“It’s hard work, but somebody has to do it.” She smirked, and he huffed out a quiet laugh. It was then that she realised how close she was to him, more or less topless, in his bedroom of all places. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and deliberately stepped out of his line of sight, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She focused on the scar, reaching the last few symbols quickly. “Is that better?” She asked, her voice breathier than she would have liked.
“Much. Thank you.” He replied, looking down at his hands. She replaced the salve on the side and took the opportunity to take some deep breaths.
“My dragon? I was wondering if you- Oh!” Narcissa exclaimed, looking between Hermione and her son’s undone shirt with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry, I should have knocked. I didn’t see anything!” She said, retreating back into the sitting room with a hand over her eyes. Malfoy made a strangled noise as Hermione chuckled. They heard the main door to his suite slam, and Malfoy hurriedly buttoned his shirt.
“I think she just accidentally discovered boundaries.” Hermione laughed.
“I’ll deal with her. You should run whilst you still can. Save yourself, Granger.” He said dramatically.
She pointed at him. “As long as you don’t spread any sordid tales about me to your mother.”
“Scouts honour.” He said, holding up his hand.
“You were never a scout, Malfoy.” She smiled.
“Is that a prerequisite for that?” He asked facetiously.
She chuckled as she stepped towards his personal floo, tossing the powder into the fire. His wide smile was the last thing she saw as she disappeared in the green flames. It stayed with her, longer than it should have.