His jaw was trembling as he glared down at her. “After she died, I was being watched. The Dark Lord isn't a fool, he knew I'd waver after losing her. I had to re-earn his trust before I could risk doing anything. I'm not one of your friends. If I wanted my betrayal to matter, he couldn't anticipate it. If I'd reached out to the Order the next weekend, do you really think there would have been any question about who the spy was? It took time to get close enough to actually know anything important.”
He turned away and his voice grew thick and hoarse. “She — she never recovered. The tremors — they never stop, not after that much cruciatus. I don't even know what else he did to her — before I got there—,” his voice broke. He shoved his hair away from his face and seemed to be struggling to breathe. “The whole summer — I couldn't… I couldn't do anything but tell her I was sorry.”
Draco turned away and leaned against a wall as though he were about to fall. “He kept her in the cage for months; she was still in it when I returned to school. After I killed Dumbledore, he let her out. But then he stayed and lived in the manor with us. She could barely handle it. She'd fall apart at any sound and just cower on the floor panicking.”
He was breathing so rapidly his hands were shaking, and he kept talking, the words just pouring from him. “My mother — she — she was never very strong. She nearly died when she was pregnant with me, and she never recovered from it. She — was always fragile after that. My father always said we had to take care of her. He made me swear, again and again growing up, that I'd always take care of her. When the Dark Lord finally left the manor — I tried to get her away; somewhere he couldn't find her or hurt her again. But she wouldn't go — she wouldn't go anywhere without me.”
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I was trying to take care of her. I was trying to keep her safe. I was trying to figure out a way to run — and then — she was burned to death in Lestrange Manor—”
His voice broke away, and he slid down the wall, shuddering.
Hermione felt something in her heart twist.
He'd always been fiercely protective of his mother, even in school. When anyone insulted his father he might get angry, but the faintest insinuation against his mother made him vicious.
The shocking transformation from school bully into a murderer capable of killing Albus Dumbledore suddenly made sense. Voldemort had dropped him into a crucible with the option of emerging a weapon or losing the only person he cared about; a person he felt intensely responsible for. Caring for Narcissa Malfoy had forged his deadliness; that cold ability to calculate and push the limits.
“I'm so sorry, Draco.” she said, feeling faint with shock.
“I don't want your false sympathy, Granger,” he snarled, but his voice was shaking.
He had probably never told anyone what had happened. Severus hadn't known. His friends couldn't have known. He'd been carrying it for years, trying to make amends as best he could. Then Hermione had come along and slowly and unrelentingly manipulated him into caring for someone else — into caring for her.
No wonder he had been devastated to realise it.
“I'm not lying,” she said. “I'm sorry. I am truly sorry for what happened to her. And — I'm sorry I did this to you.” She drew closer to him.
He looked so alone.
She placed a tentative hand on his arm, half expecting him to fling her across the room in rage. But after a moment's hesitation, he dropped his head down onto her shoulder.
She pulled him into her arms; he stiffened for a moment and then gripped her shoulders and sobbed. She'd never expected to see him cry.
“I can't — I can't—,” he kept repeating the words as he shook.
Hermione didn't know what to do. She stroked her fingers through his hair and along the back of his neck as he kept repeating the words over and over again.
“I can't — I can't do this again—,” he gasped. “I can't care for someone again. I can't — I can't take it.”
Hermione rested a hand on his cheek and felt his tears slide across her skin and down her wrist.
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Draco.” She said the words again and again. She was apologising for everything.
For the first time, Draco Malfoy was fully human to her. She'd slipped through his walls and peeled away his defensive layers of malice and cruelty, until she reached the centre of him, and there found he carried a broken heart.
She could use that.
Chapter End Notes
Illustrations by Avendell, follow her on tumblr and instagram.
Additional Illustrations:
"I can't care for someone again" by _knar.m_
Fight training by enselius
Combat training by nadia polyakova
Training by heidiM
Combat training by jjupiter
Knives are becoming common on the battlefield by incendiosketches.
January 2003