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Refuge at the Malfoy Manor by Ravenclawandslytherinqueens
Chapter 5 : Mudblood and Torture
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 2


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Draco closed the door, and released a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. He sank down the door, leaning his head against it. His hangover was hitting full swing, and he was expected at work in two hours. The fire whiskeys weren’t looking so great anymore, and regret flooded him. A light knock came from his bedroom door; he covered his ears and growled. Just what he needed, company. He struggled to get to his feet, and threw open the door, to see a pale Hermione Granger, still wrapped in her fairy dust pink silk robe, at his door. He raised an eyebrow at her, and said, “Am I in the wrong room?” To his surprise, Hermione actually laughed, acknowledging his joke from last night.

 

“No, you are in the right room, I was wondering if we could talk for a minute?” Hermione asked, finally making direct eye contact with him from the doorway.  

“Sure, I am just not sure how much help I will be,” He said, running his fingers through his hair, “ considering I am completely hung over at the moment, and my head feels like a hippogriff is sitting on top of it.”

 

Hermione laughed,

 

“You would know that feeling wouldn’t you?” She was referring to the time that bloody oaf Hagrid had decided he was going bring a Hippogriff to that bloody class, and the deranged thing broke his arm. Draco passed a look of indifference before stepping away from the door and collapsing onto his bed. Hermione walked in the room, and withdrew her wand from her pocket, pointing it towards his head. “Stay still,” she muttered before Draco could register her wand and shift away from her spell, “Acetum Acetylsalicylic!”

 

Draco had never heard the words she muttered before in his life, but within seconds the pressure in his head as well as the nausea vanished. He gently lifted his head from the pillow, terrified that it would come back. To his genuine shock it hadn’t. “What was that you genius witch?” He asked, grinning for the first time today. Hermione gave a small smile, and was as usual proud of her natural ability.

 

“It’s a chemical compound muggles found that could alleviate symptoms associated with a hangover, I uhm… I was fooling around after the war, and I found a spell that worked. Which makes sense since most healers get their spells from chemical compounds that alleviate symptoms they are looking for.” She was babbling, and he could help but stare and admire her. She was always a know-it-all, but before with her wild curly hair and bucktooth, trying to be smarter than anyone else in the class, it was annoying. Now that she was mature and dedicated, it was worldlier. She had finally stopped talking down to people, and started taking pleasure in sharing her knowledge. Her frizzy hair was now manageable and tame, with beautiful ringlets cascading down to her shoulders brushing over her breast. Her teeth were also quite straight, having lost the severe overbite she once had. Her eyes were still full of curiosity, but much more cautious, having experienced things beyond compare.

 

“Well thank you, that spell is literally the single best that ever existed.” Draco smiled at her, and he noticed a small blush grace her cheeks. “You wanted to talk to me about something?” Draco asked sitting up onto his bed.  “Take a seat,” he gestured.

 

Hermione nodded, and sat at the edge of his bed, which was just as soft as her own. Her robe slid to the side of her leg, exposing the skin on her thigh ever so slightly, and she noticed Draco’s attention fall down her body to her legs. She quickly slid the robe back into place. Draco immediately brought his attention back to her face.

 

Hermione decided she couldn’t put this conversation off any longer. “I am sorry for punching you last night.” She blushed; apologizing was never a strong suit for her.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Draco asked, meeting her eyes. Hermione nodded. “What did I do? We were laughing and having a good time and then you just punched me?”

 

“It was the sneer. It brought me back to the times at school when you’d call me a mudblood,” She said, looking down at her hands. Draco suddenly felt horrible, and the guilt washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and make her feel safe, but he was probably the last person in the world who could do that. And at that moment it seemed the best thing he could do was to show her why he had tortured and tormented her all these years. He swallowed and stood up, and started unbuttoning his shirt. Hermione looked up at him completely confused, and felt her pulse quicken with fright, or maybe something else altogether. She tightened her grip along her robe; scared he was going to try to rip it off.

 

As he continued, she began to pay attention to the lines of his body, and soon she realized for the first time that he was quite attractive. His muscles rippled through his skin as he moved, and his shoulders were broad, with his pecs quite visible, beneath which was a six-pack. She gasped as she studied him further. On the left side of his body, in the centre of his torso, there was a large gashing stab wound. It seemed to have been present for many years, but had healed badly, and would never be erased from his skin even with the greatest of spells. She looked up to his face and noticed his expression, which shifted from his usual indifference to fear for a split second, and knew he was preparing to tell her something he didn’t usually tell people. Without realizing it, curiosity got the better of her and her body shifted towards him, with her hands reaching to touch his scar, a scar, which it seemed, never really healed, as if it was opened and closed so often, his body had given up any attempt to heal.

 

“I am sorry.” He whispered, wincing when her hand drew near, “I never meant to actually hurt you. How do I put this,” He shook his head, “my father had drilled into my head that I was to call anyone who deserved the title a mudblood. When I was 5, my mom snuck me out to see my Aunt Andromeda and her daughter, Nymphadora.“

 

“Tonks” Hermione gave a small smile, remembering her late friend. She also noticed her hand was still resting on his scar, and she slowly removed it.

 

“Yes, at that time, I uhm, didn’t know what mudblood meant, I was only five.” Hermione nodded, and Draco continued. “I was playing with her in the sand, and her grandparents were there. I asked her why they didn’t have wands. She told me they were muggles. So I said ‘You’re a mudblood then?’ Her hair went so red I will never forget the colour of her flames. I was so scared. I immediately apologized. She was much older than me, maybe around 14, so she looked at me and said, ‘Do you know what that means?’ I told her, “It means a muggle-born” and she shook her head and said ‘It means dirty blood. You told me I have dirty blood, because my grandparents don’t have wands.’ I was horrified, I didn’t ever wanted to call my precious older cousin that. I looked up to her at that time, and thought she was the most amazing person.

I hugged her and said ‘no, no, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that. You are an angel not a dirty blood. My daddy told me something else. I am sorry.’ She looked at me and knew that I was wrong, my father had intended for me to call all people of muggle descent mudbloods. I didn’t know. A little while later, my dad had found out that my mother was taking me to see my ‘mudblood of a cousin’, as he likes calling her.” He smiled, sadly.

“So I got upset, and I went to him, foolish little 5 year old I was, and told him that Tonks wasn’t dirty blood, and just because her grandparents were muggles didn’t mean she was dirty. That night was the first night I got the cruciatus curse.” Hermione winced, and sat back, listening. “He didn’t think that was enough for a 5 year old, he took his precious pocket knife out and stabbed me. I can still remember how my blood poured onto the floor in front of my kneeling body,” Draco reached up and brushed his scar, reliving the memories flashing in his mind.

Hermione, never the one to watch one suffer, grabbed his hand and held it in hers.

 

He looked to meet her eyes, and said, his voice shaking slightly, “He told me my blood was pure, and that a muggle-born’s blood was not. I was never to compare my blood, the precious and ancient Malfoy blood, with that of a muggle-born’s. If I did, I didn’t deserve the blood I was given, and he would stab me again like that night, draining me of that blood he gave to me.” Hermione looked up at him, her lips trembling, and rested her second hand on his chest. “I never wanted to call you that, I hated when I did, but I knew I was always being watched, and I was so scared he would deliver his promise. In an environment where blood and honour was all that mattered, I couldn’t trust my ‘friends’ to not go to their parents, or even him, to get what they wanted. They would have loved to see Draco Malfoy crash and burn, forever banned as a blood traitor. I was a coward. The worst part is, as time went on, I never stood up to him. I let him do it once when I was 5, and it granted him permission to do whatever he wanted to me. I hurt you over and over, as well as others, to protect myself. For that I am sorry.”

 

Hermione moved away from him, gripped her hands into fists, and stood up, walking towards the door. “You weren’t a coward. You were young.” Draco gave a forced smile. He was feeling cold again with her hands removed. “We should get ready for breakfast,” She breathed as she walked out of the room.

 

He laid back down on his bed, his hands immediately covering his face. He jumped a little when he heard her voice, echoing in the room, “And thank you, Draco. Thank you for telling me.”


 


 

Hermione, went to her room and collapsed on her bed. She immediately started to analyze the conversation, and raised her hands above her face. His skin had felt very warm. It was interesting, how she felt little sparks between his skin and her hand, something she’s never felt before. In a split second, she realized she didn’t want to lose that closeness that was starting to form between them. She felt bad for Draco, everyone always suspected that Draco was being abused, with a father like that, but she was certain after Narcissa’s trial, where she finally confessed to the abuse. She never knew why Draco wasn’t ever tried; perhaps the Minister believed he was too young. All she knew at this very moment was that she somehow forgave him for all he’s done through the years, and that he had just opened himself up to her. It hadn’t come from her own heritage, like she always thought; it came from his, if that made any sense at all.

 

Hermione slipped out of bed and began getting ready for breakfast. She easily made her way down the hall towards the dining room, where she found Narcissa pacing outside the door.

 

“Narcissa?” Hermione called, the women turned around to face the younger witch.

 

“Hermione” She replied, composing herself once more. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Better, Draco and I spoke this morning. Are you alright?” She asked. Narcissa swallowed.

 

“He is in there,” She hissed like a cat. “I am not sure I am ready to deal with him.” Narcissa said rapidly to the younger witch.

 

Hermione, shocked, did not reply. Thankfully at that very moment Draco made his way down the stairs to greet them. “Morning Ladies,” Draco said, giving his mother a light kiss on the cheek. “Why are we out here?” Draco asked, smiling slightly at incredulous scene of Hermione standing with his mother outside the great dining room of the manor.

 

“Waiting for you,” Narcissa lied. Draco raised an eyebrow, seeing through her straight away.

 

“Never in the last 8 years with me being the head of the house have you waited for me before entering.”

 

“She isn’t ready to deal with your father,” Hermione whispered, unconsciously learning towards him.

 

Draco raised both eyebrows, and chuckled darkly, “Oh he thinks he is eating with us? I thought I made it quite clear he was to stay away from my mother.” Draco marched through the doors and Narcissa frantically tried to grab him, doing all she could to stop him, but it was too late.

 

“Draco,” Lucius drawled out to his son, as he spotted the door opening. His beard had disappeared from his long stay in Azkaban and his hair had returned to its former length.

 

“Father,” Draco acknowledged, “the dining hall in the North East Wing,” he gestured, “will be were you will receive your meals for the rest of your stay. This dining hall is for my mother, treasured family members, and our guest.”

 

Lucius scowled, “You think you can tell me where to eat and sleep in my own home?” his voice laced with venom, and his previous temper seemed to be surfacing.

 

Draco gave a sly smirk, “Actually father, the house is mine.” There was silence for a couple of seconds, and Hermione and Narcissa glanced at each other, feeling the intense tension in the room.

 

Lucius suddenly stood up, withdrawing a wand, and in a matter of seconds Draco had his father pinned to the floor and the wand rested in his hand. With a know-it-all smirk on his face, his voice now dripping with venom, Draco spoke. “You are not permitted to use a wand on orders of the Minister. I’m not sure where you found this one in the first place, but if these terms are difficult for you to follow, I am sure your cell in Azkaban will always be waiting for you. No magic from you in my home. You will follow my orders, or else I will report you to my boss. I will not stand for any act of intolerance towards anyone in this house. I am not longer your toy. Please exit the room.” Lucius stood upright, and Hermione missed the expression on his face as he made his way out of the dining room, his long strides the only sounds echoing in the dining hall. Draco was shaking, and Narcissa placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Be careful Draco”. She proceeded to take her seat calmly, all her previous emotions vanishing in an instant. Draco continued shaking, and Hermione reached and grabbed his hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and he almost immediately stopped shaking.

 

“You are no coward,” She whispered in his ear, a slight blush running along her cheeks, and a smile formed on Draco’s lips. She released his hand and took her own seat, followed by Draco, who passively followed her, still holding onto her hand.

Narcissa stood there and eyed them both, it seemed that her mother’s intuition was right last night, and Draco was developing a crush on this girl. What was even more curious though, she thought as she sipped on her coffee is that the girl seemed to be reciprocating his feelings. 

Xoxo Slytherin Queen

A/N: Sorry for the very late update, my co-author Ravenclaw Queen, kept procastinating the writing, and has for the time being given me the story to complete. She has however edited the story and included her own flair to the chapter. Hopefully I will have a new chapter up soon! Thank you to my readers! I would love to hear any comments!



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