The Scar
His mother had pulled out the list after breakfast where they discussed his need for marriage. She had put a large amount of thought into what to do and who particularly, would be most fitting. Naturally, most of the women she was suggesting knew him in one form or another, and to his absolute horror a good number of them had fought in the battle of Hogwarts.
His heart stopped when she pulled out the stack of photos making her way through Katie Bell, Cho Chang, Lavender Brown, and at the very bottom of the stack sat a picture of Hermione Granger.
The second she pulled it out, he knew it was wrong, “Isn’t she married to the Weasel by now?” a familiar sneer rose in his throat.
His mother was looking through the different piles of papers she had scattered around her desk, glancing over, “No dear, according to Witch Weekly they went through quite the messy breakup a number of years ago, and she hasn’t been noted to be dating anyone seriously since,”
His eyes met his mother’s, picture in hand, “Witch Weekly?”
“Well, their families wouldn’t think it appropriate for me to contact them regarding their eligibility,” She shrugged. Draco nearly burst into hysterics thinking of his mother picking up a Witch Weekly, let alone reading it. “Besides, someone who is well known, along with their blood status is ideal,” She was matter-of-fact with all of it.
This was it. The woman he had been in love with for nearly a decade, not only was she available for the taking, but his parents approved. He’d essentially been given the greenlight to pull out all the stops and take her for his own. His determination grew, the idea of having her naked and under him had him turned on already. His darkest instincts fought for control, taking control of her, tying her spread eagle to his bed for punishment whether she earned it or not, showing her off. Something in him snapped, he’d stayed away for years, checking in on her growing list of accomplishments and having friends report back every so often, but he didn’t hear anything regarding her relationship. He didn’t want to. The idea of her with the Weasel was nauseating, but knowing explicitly she’d kicked him to the curb, relit something in him. Every reason he’d given himself for staying away evaporated into smoke.
He shook off the train of thought, remembering his mother’s presence.
“I’m going to begin making plans to leave as soon as possible,” He matched her tone, “I need to move a few meeting arrangements and make a portkey for quick travel,”
He took a seat in the chair across from his mother’s desk, the picture still in hand, “Do you have anyone in particular in mind?” she looked at him pointedly, the woman knew.
His eyebrow raised in response, “I thought she might be your choice,”
“Why? Because she stepped in and saved my arse at my trial?”
His mother scoffed, “OH please Draco, even when you were in school you were obsessed with her. ‘Mother the muggle-born girl called me an arse’, ‘Mother the muggle-born girl is getting better grades than me’, ‘Mother the muggle-born girl hit me in the face’,” She mimicked tone nearly perfectly.
Draco chuckled and rolled his eyes, “I’m happy it’s not too much of a surprise then,”
His mood dimmed, “Are you sure you and Father will be o.k. here without me? I could try and make arrangements for a recurring portkey every evening and stay here,” taking her hands in his.
His mother waved him away, effectively dismissing his thought, “We’ll be o.k. Draco, it’s time for you to go off and begin a family of your own. Besides I’m sure you’ll be busy visiting us plenty soon,”
He nodded, getting up. Kissing his mother on the cheek, “Go ahead and start planning, fingers crossed, we’ll have a marriage before Christmas,” His heart started beating again just at the thought, his mother smiling weakly.
Draco sat at his desk, unable to concentrate. The thoughts of Hermione spiraled through his mind.
He had no doubt that he would be able to convince her to give him a chance, but it was challenging trying to think of how extreme he may need to take it to accomplish his goals. He had no plans to force her into anything, but he wasn’t losing this battle either.
Thinking back on it, he was horrible in school, and he focused most of his attention on Hermione. Calling her a mudblood, tormenting her every chance he got just for an excuse to see her. He rubbed a hand down his face, shit, he may have dug a hole too deep to get out of with her.
Turning his attention to the work at hand, he began analyzing the spreadsheets of different investments. After an hour of reviewing the different amounts and returns, he was getting a headache. The ministry took half the Malfoy volt as war reparations after his father’s trial. The amounts were struggling in the first place, the mismanagement of the funds while Voldemort was in power had already decreased the volt substantially, with the ministry stepping in, they were lucky to have survived.
His mother knew the depths he’d sunk to in order to keep their properties intact, although the intelligent woman knew not to ask about things she didn’t want to know about. The volts were slowly returning to where they were prior to the war, but he was probably going to have to keep up his side venture for the rest of his life. If he was being honest, he enjoyed it. Gaining a Master Potioneer degree his second year after the trial was put to good use. He enjoyed the work and the challenge of the potions he made, the problem was always sourcing the ingredients.
Some of the potions he made were highly illegal, mostly due to the nature of said ingredients. Finding items like dragon eggs was hard. Fwooper eggs were one thing, even Bowtruckle sap, but finding a source for the Murtlap venom was illegal, if not impossible. Fishing out a plain piece of paper, he wrote out a note to an old ministry contact to ask for a meeting. With a second thought, he wrote a second to Theo Nott to arrange a place to stay in London. Restoring the Manor will take time, even if the wards were still up. Dismantling the anti-muggleborn wards around the house and grounds would take even longer.
Relaxing in the muggle pub seemed to be becoming a habit. The scotch was his favorite.
His contact sidled up to him on the bar, “Did you bring them?” he sipped from his glass, staring on the array of bottles on the wall behind the bar.
The sweaty man nodded, “In a bag out near the dumpsters,”
Draco drained the rest of his glass and waved to the bartender, “Two Caol Ila, 12 year, please,” he glanced at his partner, “What’s got you in knots, Dawlish?”
“Some contacts back in the Aurors said a head of one of their departments was asking around about destroyed dragon eggs,” he glanced nervously over his shoulder.
The bartender brought their drinks, “Relax,” He watched her walk away, “We covered our tracks, there’s nothing to worry about,”
“I’ve just heard she’s real good at sniffing out those of us who have some, extra-curricular activities,”
Draco frowned, “Who exactly?” his eyes narrowed at Dawlish.
“Granger, from your trial,” He drowned the expensive scotch. “She got Kingsley to kick me out of my job, switched me into Regulation of magical creatures,”
Draco frowned, that could be an issue, “Ignore her, I’ll take care of it. Just keep covering your tracks and getting the dragon eggs. Also, be aware, I’m going to start changing the meeting location, make sure less people can find us, I’ll get you unregistered two-way portkeys for the new locations,” He threw down a few bills onto the counter, turning to leave, “And make sure they’re non-viable,”
Dawlish laughed, “What? I got you a whole ass dragon, how many people can say they have one as a pet?”
Draco scowled at the man, “You’re lucky Malfoys have a long linage of them imprinting on us, I don’t think I can do it a second time,”
He left the bar before he lost his patience, circling around the back to grab the package before apparating to the nearest portkey.
Getting home he pulled out the saltwater Mermaid scales and began preparing them in his lab. The monotony of crushing them into a powder allowed his mind to wonder.
He’d heard of Granger’s achievements in rooting out the corruption in the ministry. She’d single-handedly got a quarter of the Wizengamot disbarred. He grinned remembering the headlines following her, Skeeter always managed to spin it to make her seem like the villain. GRANGER HUNTS TURN TO WIZENGAMOT, GRANGER HAS STATON DISBARRED FOR EARNING ON SIDE, GRANGER HAS MCLAIRD FIRED FOR ALLOCATION OF FUNDS. The list went on, truly, Skeeter turned misinformation into an art form. For every member disbarred publicly, there was another one who was reprimanded heavily privately for the same laundering or abusing their position by using intimidation or favoritism. After the show she put on during his trial, it would have been a travesty had they not given her the position but knowing her nature to pursue damn near made him loose his mind.
Knowing that the hunter was about to become the hunted had his entire body on edge and ready to start that hunt. His mother was working up a contract for their courtship, he still wasn’t sure how he was going to get her to sign her life away in the most literal sense, but he had a few ideas.
Finishing the mermaid scales, he submerged them in ocean water and began looking through his stores. He should have the ingredients for a few different options to help convince her. The idea of using amortentia left him feeling empty, he wanted her to come to him from her own free will. He spotted some dittany. Now that’s an idea. Gathering the ingredients needed, he knew what to do. Seduce her once, and a few weeks later, just convince her it’s all for the best.
He smiled, a plan coming together in his mind. He knew exactly what he was going to do.
He examined the courting contract his mother had written up, feeling like all the pieces were clicking into place when an owl pecked his office window. Getting up and letting it in, it handed over a letter from Theo. Giving it a pet and a treat, the owl sat waiting for his response.
The letter was oddly formal for his friend, opening his home in an invitation to stay until he got his “affairs in order”. He frowned at the wording, Theo had been sending him letters for a decade now, and never once was decent enough to be formal in them. A few short lines were his entire response. Unfolding the piece of parchment to look for more when a small piece of parchment fell onto the desk. Turning it over, it was a duplicated RSVP.
I have it on good authority Granger will be attending, be here by Thursday.
He could’ve kissed him, the smug bastard. Theo always teased him throughout school for having a crush, he was privy to Draco’s feelings before Draco even realized what they were.
Thursday, fuck, that’s today, He looked at the time, ten PM.
Speeding through a final check of the finances, he left a note for his mother on the breakfast table and packed his things to begin the restoration of Malfoy Manor.
With that, he walked out of the house and to the international apparations checkpoint.
She was so close he could almost touch her.
Hermione ducked out of the floo on her flat on instinct alone. Hitting her head on the mantle one too many times made it second nature.
It was eight PM by the time she finished her work, but there were still too many random facts to sort through. The raid went as expected and Bagman was arrested quietly with money in his pocket from a fixed game and illegal bets, but she was stuck on this dragon egg case. The more information she found, the more she was just confused by it all. The inhouse testing from Charlie’s facility came back confirming that the two destroyed eggs they kept were infertile the whole time, but all the initial testing said they were viable eggs.
On top of that, her research pinpointed another random case with more incongruencies. Mermaid bodies were found without their scales. The case had originally passed notice since the reasoning was, that they died from a long line of species-specific diseases. Regular deaths, but reviewing past similar cases, nothing indicated they lost scales when this happened.
Crookshanks jumped down from his perch in her reading chair and meowed insistently, jolting her out of her intrusive thoughts. She bent to pet the affectionate kneazle when he pranced out of reach to circle his food bowl.
“Alright, you fuzzy beast,” Hermione followed him and knelt to give him food, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything but coffee. That counts as breakfast, right?
Finally trying to push her thoughts to the side for the evening, she got herself something to eat. Regardless the dread crept in. Ginny’s pep talk did wonders, but the anxiety of seeing Ron again and being in a setting with men potentially throwing themselves at her was eating her alive. She prayed to Merlin that all went quietly, maybe she should call Ginny to see if she had any felix felicis.
To say she slept fitfully was generous. Hermione had been plagued by dreams of Malfoy Manor since the day she had been tortured. But the dreams of Malfoy were new.
She had seen him in his cage, piercing gaze at her the entire time. She had never had these dreams before and woke with her scar burning. It felt like her entire arm was on fire when she woke before the sun. She rushed to the bathroom, submerging her entire arm in ice water, begging it to stop only to watch the ice melt unnaturally quickly.
Cursing, Hermione grabbed dittany cream and smeared it on, which only seemed to make it worse. The skin looked cracked and swollen around each letter spelling out her blood status. Nothing seemed to help when the cursed wound became like this, the last time had been after rewatching her memory of the torture after Malfoy’s trial. Or at least she thought it was.
For years she had worked to rid herself of the horrible thing. She had gone to specialists, herbologists, everything. Eventually, she found the cheapest way to keep trying to find something to help was to get her potion’s mastery, but her lack of time always seemed to work against her.
If she was being honest with herself, it was a convenient excuse. She had loved potion making in school, even if it wasn’t her best subject. She had wanted to leave the ministry with it. Set up her own little potion shop on Diagon Alley, try to find and live a life that was simple, easy even.
Then Ron decided he wanted to build the bar, and she took the money meant to start up her dream, to start up his.
Even now she saved for the goal, but with rising prices and hesitance to lease business property to muggle-borns, it was doubtful that she would ever achieve that goal.
Nearly in tears from the pain, Hermione reached for the numbing potion she saved for worst-case scenario and smeared it on. Leaning against the bathroom wall she sank down to her knees hoping it would take effect sooner rather than later.
She couldn’t say how long she sat on the bathroom floor, but eventually, the pain in her arm subsided enough that she carefully pulled the cold cloth off and stopped putting pressure on the scar. Looking at it, the permanent cuts seemed to almost glow with how red and swollen it was. The veins around it were prominent, almost black looking under the skin.
She took deep breaths, trying to push the last of the pain out. She rubbed her face, exhausted from her interrupted sleep, finally standing up and stretching out her stiff legs. Reaching for the counter, she splashed water on her face, going back to sleep was not an option.
When she finally was ready, she got dressed and resolved that some sparring practice before work would do her good. Normally Simmons woke up early to work out, hopefully he would be a willing partner.
Flooing to the ministry was quick, and Roberts was there finishing a quiet night shift. It wasn’t often she was earlier than Simmons. Luckily, Roberts seemed to hear what she didn’t say, offering to spar with her before he left for the night.
Hermione nodded and pulled her wand at the ready.
His first shot went wide, the second followed close behind, bouncing harmlessly off her protego. They continued on, Hermione putting in half-assed effort on her part, dancing in and out of range while he never landed a hex. Seeing an opening Hermione cast a locomotor mortis at his legs, dropping him entirely.
She chuckled weakly, “Ready to call it a night, Roberts?”
He grinned before casting a stunning spell in her direction, forcing her to bring her shields back up, “No, but you might be,”
Her eyes narrowed, “Roberts, I’ve wiped the mats with your ass, give up while we’re ahead,” His eyes glanced behind her just for a moment. Spinning just in time, Hermione blocked a stunning spell only to see Harry joining the duel with a grin on his face.
She shot a stunning spell right back, “What are you doing here Harry?” chuckling as he dodged at the last second.
He shot his trademarked expelliarmus in her direction, and she stepped to the side letting it hit Roberts trying to undo her curse.
“Bloody hell, Harry! I thought you were helping me!” Roberts desperately tried to use his arms to scramble towards his lost wand.
Harry winced, “I got the message from Kingsley about the gala,” he danced to the side as Hermione shot three curses his way in close succession. The last hit him square in the face. He paused, giving Hermione the opening for a total body bind, as soon as the curse left her wand, the training mat wrapped around him, holding him in place. “Argh, Hermione! –“ Harry’s sneeze interrupted him, unleashing a flurry of bats into the gym.
Hermione finally lost it, breaking into laughter with tears streaming down her cheeks. Once the bats started, they didn’t stop. Harry’s sneezing sounded as bats filled the room, Hermione couldn’t do anything but hold her ribs as she laughed.
“Hermione!” Harry sounded desperate in between sneezing fits. Hermione finally wiped her eyes and cast the countercurse. She continued giggling as she undid the carpet, helping him up.
“Merlin! It’s good to see you too Hermione, the bat boogy hex? Really?” Harry looked exhausted already, giving her a hug.
“A little help,” Roberts voice sounded across the room. Hermione chuckled, removing the curse from the leg binding and walking over to help him up,
“You didn’t need to show me up so hard, Hermione,” Roberts retrieved his wand from where it flew across the room before walking over to clasp Harry’s forearm, “Good to see you, Potter,”
She winced, following Harry as he turned to exit the training room, “You’re not going to learn otherwise,” She sang with a smile as she walked out the door, leaving Roberts to finalize his reports and leave for the night. She followed Harry, heading for her office, “Harry, why are you really here?” She stopped him in a deserted hallway, looking at him suspiciously “You wouldn’t come back early just for a political charade,”
“’Mione, you make it sound like I wouldn’t come back just because I miss my wife and kids,” He stopped a smug grin on his face. She frowned at him, lifting her eyebrow in response.
“I just spoke to Ginny on Tuesday, she said you had another two weeks stuck traveling with the Cannons,”
“Eh, it’s just another two weeks of their stupid press tour,” he shrugged nonchalantly, only the “boy-who-lived” could get away with ditching his quidditch team early, “Besides it was a convenient excuse, and Ginny let me know you were struggling,” Hermione smiled, it meant the world to her that Harry and Ginny stuck by her after her break-up with Ron, although more Ginny than Harry. Harry was always trying to play mediator and keep the peace.
“Well, I appreciate that,” She said matter of factly, “As long as it has nothing to do with Ron,” She turned to keep walking, as Harry froze in place, color rushing from his cheeks. She only made it a few steps before realizing, “This doesn’t have anything to do with Ron, right?” she turned to look at the ghostly man over her shoulder.
“‘Mione, He just wants you to know he’s sorry,”
Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples to try and dissuade the returning headache. She turned to keep walking, marching back to her office. Harry chased after her, “Hermione, come on,” he was trying to keep his voice low to avoid attention.
As soon as she entered her office, she started throwing clothes out of her bag to change into for work. Snapping the door shut with a wave of her wand as soon as Harry made it into the room.
“Hermione, he’s been sending me letters left and right, and every single one is about you!” his hands flew through the air as he showed his exasperation, “‘Oh Harry, I miss her so much’, ‘I miss the way she used to make me dinner all the time’, ‘I made a huge mist-‘”
“Harry Potter!” Hermione practically had to scream to get his attention, “It is not my problem if you can’t summon enough courage to fill a teaspoon and confront your best friend to set some boundaries! Merlin, you killed a dark lord and now you’re in my office ranting about not being able to speak honestly to your friend,”
Harry had stilled, his cheeks turning beet red. Finally, letting out a sigh, he collapsed in the armchair in the corner, “You’re right, I’ll talk to him,” he was quiet, like a chastised child.
Hermione immediately felt bad, following him to sit in her desk chair, “Look,” She rubbed her head as she took it out of a messy bun, “I already talked to Gin about it, I’ll hear him out,” Harry’s face lit up, “I don’t think I’m comfortable trying to be friends with him again after his display at the last charity gala almost cost me my badge, but I’m open to communication,”
Harry’s grin expanded across his face, “Thank you, I promise I’ll have a discussion with him about talking to me about you all the time, he needs to find someone else to rant about this shit with,”
Hermione chuckled, “Fair enough, now do you want breakfast or what, you owe me,”
Harry laughed, Hermione was the only person who could go from threatening him to discussing food options in less than a minute.