Work Text:
"Fuck."
Draco Malfoy cursed under his breath as he stumbled over his own feet and crashed unceremoniously next to someone's picket fence – feeling a pang of guilt for the poor unsuspecting homeowner who had probably endured a terrible suffering because of him. He lay there for a moment, hidden amidst the wildflowers and brambles, attempting to regain his composure and control his laboured breathing.
He allowed himself only a few precious seconds of respite before he forced his muscles to shift and struggle back to his feet.
He was in agony as he tried to ignore the lingering pain that sliced his chest and back after he had been hit by an onslaught of curses and hexes all night long. With determination etched into his features, he managed to take a few unsteady steps, following the curve of the fence that led him into the small, neglected garden of a cottage situated at the rear of the village he had played a part in destroying.
The once-vibrant blooms were now trampled and crushed under his feet, mirroring the devastation that had befallen the village and the sight bore a heavy weight of remorse in his heart.
The other Death Eaters had long vanished, leaving him alone amidst the wreckage and to be honest, he knew that he should follow suit and disappear into the shadows – especially with the Order of the Phoenix still lurking in the fields, tending to the wounded and assisting them with the recovery of the destroyed homes and lives.
But oh well, if only they could help Draco too, then he wouldn’t be in such a bloody mess in the first place.
He pulled his lips into a grimace of distaste, his fingers tightening around his wand as he prepared to cast a healing spell on his battered body. His silver mask – an object that concealed his identity but brought him unimaginable discomfort – pressed tightly against his face, making it far harder to breathe. Each shallow breath he took through the unforgiving mask sent shudders down his spine, and he couldn't help but wish for the day when he would be free of it.
With a determined exhale, he attempted to steady his breathing and concentrate on the task at hand. However, the agonising moans and groans of pain that escaped his lips with each incantation echoed in his ears and resounded in his throbbing head, drowning his focus and making it nearly impossible to channel his magic effectively.
Drat.
He was so disoriented with his own pain at that point, that he’d end up fucking himself up even more with his trembling hands and shaken words. In hindsight, he should have probably just carried some Dittany and Murtlap Essence with him before he had to go out on that dreaded raid that the bloody Dark Lord had ordered him to lead. It was an oversight that only an amateur could make, after all – but there was no turning back now; he had to make do with what he had on hand, his wand serving as his sole lifeline in this dire moment of need.
“Right,” he spoke to himself with a click of his tongue, as if he’d be able to summon his courage if he pronounced the words out loud. What a joke… He was never a courageous man in the first place. “Might as well be done with this.”
The sky was a bleak expanse, devoid of starlight, as thick rain clouds obscured any sliver of celestial illumination that might have offered solace on that moonless night. Draco found himself shrouded in a chilling darkness that seemed to reach out, threatening to consume him whole – but at least everything was quiet around him.
The absence of sound, the stillness that hung heavy in the air, was both unsettling and strangely comforting. Silence – as he found out pretty early in his life as a follower of the Dark Lord – was something that should be cherished. Nowadays, his life was full of screams, cries and deranged laughter coming from madmen, in a way that made him almost lose his sanity with all the screams and cries.
Hell! He had been almost rendered deaf by the poor muggles he had just attacked that day, as he heard their screams along with the loud shouts of Unforgivables and powerful curses (many of those that he had thrown himself). At that point, he was truly thankful that no more sounds could be heard after that whole ordeal.
Gods… he truly was a despicable man. To think that he cared more about his own hearing than the lives of the people he had just destroyed.
But then again, it wasn’t like he had any hopes of redemption anyway. After all, he had been there when Harry Potter fell dead (truly dead, this time) during the doomed Hogwarts Battle and he watched the fall of the Ministry of Magic right before his eyes.
Since then, he never quite dared to leave the side of his fellow Death Eaters ever since then, even after his own mother – and the sole reason he had even humoured fighting a damned war in the first place – had passed away shortly after due to her betrayal to the Dark Lord.
Now, five years after he had left Hogwarts that fateful day, the war still lingered on due to the Order of the Phoenix’s unrelenting stubbornness that stopped them from just giving up and admitting defeat. If anything, his life had only gotten more and more difficult after Potter’s death.
And he had a certain Hermione Granger to blame.
That bloody stupid witch with an iron will that absolutely refused to die – and yet never quite succeeded in taking down the Dark Lord and his followers either. If it wasn’t for her and her little Order, Draco was sure that his life would be a lot less miserable now.
Or maybe not… Being a Death Eater at all was already pretty fucking miserable in his opinion, anyway. Who knows if Granger’s death would make things better.
“Episkey,” he muttered, with his wand pointed towards his left leg – even though he knew he probably should look for someone more familiar with healing spells, but hardly anyone that he associated with cared enough about healing others to know of them. If anything, he was the best healer that he knew of nowadays – and that wasn’t saying much, seeing as he was still bleeding.
Damn his rotten luck.
He tightened his jaw with a strangled pained groan – cursing the random idiotic Order member that had hexed him right on the chest (and right on his ever-aching Sectumsempra scars, to make matters worse) – and put his wand back in his holster, choosing to stay put where he was for just five more minutes.
With a deep breath, he removed his Death Eater's mask just so that he could breathe a bit of fresh air, for once. But as soon as he touched the silvery frame, he heard a sharp crack that chilled him to his bones.
The mask had snapped and broken into two halves – apparently out of nowhere – and it left Draco staring at it with his mouth falling agape.
Oh… Shite!
His father would kill him if he saw this!
Earning a silver mask from the Dark Lord was far from a small matter, after all! These bloody masks worked as an identification among the Death Eaters, and they were themselves imbued with powerful magic that not even the higher-ups in the ranks could fully describe.
It took years of loyalty and hard work for the Malfoys to get them, and he doubted that there would be a spare mask lying around for him to take.
Draco didn't even know that an item as unique as that could even be broken that easily anyway!
"Fuck," he cursed, holding onto the cracked halves and trying to uselessly pin them together with his hands, to no avail. "Fuck me!"
His brows morphed into a scowl as his silver eyes stared back at the empty eyes of the silver mask – with the skull-like features and etched filigree that he often found to be incredibly tacky – and he felt like the mask itself was mocking him.
Now what? He couldn't go back to the Manor with a broken mask!
His father already considered him a failure, so there was no way he'd get his help; the Dark Lord could very well kill him for a mistake as dumb as that; and his mother – the only one that still cared about his well-being – had long since passed away!
Should he just accept his fate? Let himself get shunned by his father, tortured by his mad aunt and then killed by his master?
No. He couldn't let it end that way!
Draco had lived through way too much shite to let himself get killed over such a stupid mistake like breaking a bloody mask!
If he were to die then it should be in a battle, a duel or a grander scheme! Or else… All this bullshite he had lived through would all have been in vain.
Yeah – Fuck that! He wasn’t going to die just because of that buggering cracked mask!
He clenched his jaw and took out his wand again – remembering the old times, when he was forced to repair that bloody Vanishing Cabinet. If he could do it once, he could do it again, right?
(Though, hopefully, it wouldn't take him a whole year like it did the last time.)
"Reparo!" He breathed, trying not to be too loud even though he was quite desperate. But to his chagrin, the two halves of the mask didn't budge. "Reparo! Come on, you bloody thing – Reparo!"
But as his muscles strained with the battle he was in just a few hours ago, the firm grasp he had on the silver mask suddenly gave out and the sharp edges of the metal cut his palm mercilessly, forcing him to yelp in surprise.
Sweet Salazar's Sack! He was shit outta luck that day!
He narrowed his eyes at the sigh of the crimson-red blood that dripped from his pale hand, feeling nauseous at the smell of it already. Ugh… Maybe he should just head back to the Manor and fix his mask there – it wasn't like the Dark Lord ever sought him out after the raids were done. He certainly had enough privacy to do this, right?
But then, out of nowhere, Draco heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps drawing near, echoing through the tense silence of the night. Before he could react, a sudden force – no, a wild mass of curly hair – barreled toward him like a lion pouncing on its prey. In an instant, the unsuspecting wizard was slammed to the ground with an impact that felt like a tidal wave crashing over him.
The sheer force of the surprise attack sent shockwaves of pain radiating through Draco's battered body, and all the wounds he had carefully tried to heal moments earlier were mercilessly torn open once more. He gasped in agony, struggling to regain his senses as he grappled with this unexpected turn of events. His vision swam, and for a moment, he couldn't discern the identity of his assailant.
Buggering Hell!
In response to the ambush, Draco's instinctual reaction was to kick out at his attacker with a desperate attempt to break free from their hold. However, the assailant proved to be nimble and agile, effortlessly evading his efforts and maintaining their grip on him.
Their determination was clear – they were trying to disarm him, to leave him defenceless. But he wasn’t going to allow them that glory so easily.
Draco knew he had to act swiftly even as his vision swam and his ears kept ringing. With his bloodied hand clutching his wand tightly, he drew on the last reserves of his strength. He took a deep, ragged breath, his chest burning with pain, and with a surge of adrenaline, he rolled to the side – manoeuvring skillfully despite his injuries –and he managed to pin the other person beneath him, overpowering their resistance with his broad frame. Now in control of the situation, he gripped his wand even tighter and decided to take a good look at his assailant.
And he wasn't surprised at all to see her.
Granger.
Only a witch with as much bravery and little sense as her could try to tackle a Death Eater like a bloody Muggle!
Draco's heart pounded relentlessly in his chest, an undeniable result of the shocking turn of events – no other reason at all, certainly. He stared into a pair of whiskey-coloured eyes full of rage and desire for justice.
Her hair was sprawled across the grassy ground, framing her face like a divine halo, and Draco found himself captivated by the sight.The freckles that adorned her face were like constellations in the night sky, delicate and numerous and if he really tried, he was sure he could even spot his namesake among them.
Bloody Hell, how could a witch blike her be so fucking pretty?
Especially when she stared at him like that – breathless and with her face tinted in a red hue that made her look even more enchanting – with a glint in her eyes that burned a permanent mark in the back of his brain.
So brave. She really was a lioness through and through.
"Are you out of your mind, Granger?" he sneered, the words dripping with venom as they escaped his lips. "Were you really trying to take a Death Eater's wand away?"
She didn't flinch under his biting words, just as he expected. She met his gaze with an unwavering fire burning behind her eyes. "Why are you sitting in a Muggle cottage's garden right after attacking this village?"
"What?" He scoffed, using his broader frame to further immobilise her. "Do I need your permission to rest wherever I please?"
"Oh, so you were resting?" Despite her clear disadvantage, Granger's fiery spirit refused to back down. "Do you think that the Muggles you just killed would appreciate you resting in their home?"
"Why would I care about them?" He shrugged – though, in the back of his mind, he actually felt the need to clarify that he hadn't actually killed anyone that day. Not by his own wand, at least. "They're dead, yes?"
"You're wicked!" She hissed, kicking her legs upwards and pulling her bound hands, though she still barely budged from the ground. "And you're selfish! And cruel! And – Oh – you're… You're bleeding."
The way her eyes widened and her face paled as she stared at the dark stains left all over their bodies by his cut hand caught him off guard. Surely she wasn't worried for his well-being, right?
"So what? Shouldn't you be happy that I'm hurt?" Draco retorted, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness.
"I – No!” She hissed back. Oh, how he missed the silence he had been blessed with moments earlier. “Why should I be happy about more needless bloodshed? And get off of me!"
"Oh, I'm sure I'll do that now that you asked me so politely." Draco replied, his words dripping with sarcasm as he maintained his grip, not yet willing to relent. The tension between them crackled in the air, a potent mixture of anger and pain – though he was sure the latter was affecting him far more than it affected her.
"You are an insufferable prat!"
"And you are a nagging swot!"
"Really?” She raised an eyebrow, and he felt her body going slack for a moment. “That's the best insult you can come up with?"
"Well, I can always poke fun at your horrible hair – Can't you find a decent comb to tame this rat's nest?"
"As if I haven't heard that one before! Go get some new material, you bloody ferret!"
"Oh – And you call me unoriginal?” He scoffed, feeling genuinely offended by her lack of creativity. “I was thirteen when I was attacked by that professor! Grow up, will you?"
"You haven't changed at all since then!" Granger shouted as her eyes narrowed and she tried to flail her arms free once again. Gods, what a persistent witch! "In fact – Why aren't you calling me a mudblood right now? Come on –"
Suddenly, Draco's heart constricted at the mention of that word – that cursed word that had haunted him and ruined his life. The slight smile that had graced his lips due to their unexpected banter vanished, replaced by a solemn expression as he swiftly sobered.
Granger, ever perceptive, noticed the abrupt change in his demeanour as quickly as she had uttered the word. Her lively kicks and flails came to an abrupt halt, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked. It felt as if an unspoken line had just been crossed.
"Erhm…" she cleared her throat, with her tone growing strangely subdued. "Seriously, Malfoy! Let me go –"
Draco hesitated, caught in the swirl of emotions that her mention of that painful word had stirred within him. Wordlessly, his grip loosened around her wrists and he sat up, letting her scurry away from him.
He felt his breath stalling in his throat and he refused to look up, though he could feel that she still lingered there, sitting on the ground right next to him. That was a surprising – if not confusing – turn of events, but he didn’t exactly want that moment to end, either.
"Th – Thank you."
"Hey, just so you know – I don't… I don't believe in this anymore," he spoke, grabbing the shattered mask that had laid forgotten by their side again. The ragged edges dug into his skin, but given how he was already injured by it anyway, he couldn't really care – the pain was still the same.
"Excuse me?" Granger asked and when he dared to look at her, her brilliant amber eyes were glinting with curiosity. "What do you mean?"
Oh, Gods… She'd be the death of him and she wasn't even aware of it!
"Blood," he sighed, looking at his own battered hand as if to prove a point. Sure enough, his blood didn't look anything special. "The blood of Muggles and the blood of wizards… I've seen enough of it to know that it makes no difference. So – There's really no reason for me to believe I'm superior to you because of such a silly thing as blood."
"What –" he could see her mind working in overdrive, as if he had just revealed his most scandalous secret to date. (Though, in a way… He really did say something that he shouldn't have). "But… Why are you still with the Death Eaters, then?"
"Isn't it obvious?" He scoffed as a bitter laugh escaped his throat. "I'd be killed if I tried to leave! What else can I do?"
Fuck – He was going to be killed just for breaking that stupid mask, for Salazr’s sake! He was a dead man walking by that point.
As Draco agonised over the uncertain future that lay before him, clutching the shattered remnants of his mask in trembling hands soaked with blood, he was oblivious to the fact that Granger was inching closer to him. Her brows were knitted together in genuine concern, and her wand was held firmly in her grasp, ready for whatever might come next.
"You…" she muttered, startling him due to the fact that she was so near. His breath hitched in his throat and he straightened his back to tower over her even as they sat on the ground, but he decided not to reach for his wand. "You're wounded."
Draco's lips tightened into a thin line, his efforts to maintain the cold façade of an evil Death Eater becoming increasingly challenging. He couldn't help but feel that he was somehow getting it terribly wrong, given that Granger continued to regard him with pity in her eyes, as if he were a kicked puppy rather than a menacing figure.
"I've had worse," he shrugged, wiping his hand on his muddied black trousers. "I'll live."
"Let me see it."
"Excuse me?" Draco replied, his surprise evident in his raspy voice.
"Your left hand – Let me see it."
"What? Are you out of your mind? I'm not letting you near my wand arm!"
"Well, you should!" She huffed, using a tone fit for someone chiding a child. "I want to heal you!"
"I don't need your help! I can do it myself!"
"You just said that you injured your wand arm! How are you supposed to mend your wounds, then?"
“I – Huh… I –” he stuttered, feeling heat creeping up on his face as he struggled to find a suitable response. His pride had certainly gotten the best of him, and now he found himself facing the unexpected prospect of accepting help from someone he had once considered an enemy. Wait, she was still his enemy!
What the fuck! Why was he acting so bloody flustered over this silly witch?
It wasn’t like Draco was completely useless as a wizard! In the five years after the fall of Hogwarts, he had risen in power within the Death Eater’s ranks and even the Dark Lord entrusted him with some crucial tasks for their cause! He was, as a matter of fact, considered to be quite skilled and powerful by his peers. Even more dangerous than Lucius, in fact!
And sure, he was tired – so incredibly tired – of it all, but that didn’t mean he had turned into a complete fool!
Right?
“Right,” Granger rolled her eyes (Morgana’s tits, was he saying all that out loud?) as she grabbed his hand anyway and pointed her wand like it meant nothing. “I’m sure you’re a very brave boy. Now, let me heal you up.”
“A brave boy?” He scowled, looking almost as menacing as he once did when he wore the Silver mask earlier that day. “You do know I am an adult man, correct?”
“I’m still older than you.”
“Only by nine months, you daft witch!”
“So? What’s your point?” She pulled her lips to the side, looking rather unimpressed.
Without further warning, Granger wordlessly cast a spell to heal Draco's wound – her magic flowing seamlessly and effectively through his skin. It was as if she had performed the spell a thousand times before, leaving no trace of the injury behind, not even a scar like the ones his own healing charms often left on his skin. The stinging pain that had been a constant companion to him since the battle had ceased quickly disappeared under the soothing touch of her magic.
Draco watched in awe and a touch of disbelief as she worked her healing magic. Her skills were impeccable, and it was clear that she possessed a talent for the healing arts. It left him wondering: was there really a reason for her to heal him anyway?
Shouldn’t she be using that chance to just kill him off?
Hell! Shouldn’t he be using the chance to kill her?
With the idea running through his mind, Draco clenched his jaw tightly and, without warning, pounced on Granger once again. He swiftly disarmed her, taking her wand away from her grasp, and effectively trapping her body beneath his own. He used all of his strength to keep her in place, fully expecting resistance and a struggle.
However, to his surprise, it seemed like he didn't really need to exert that much effort to hold her down at all.
She wasn’t even putting up a fight.
“What’s going on?” Draco couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape his lips as he stared right into her pretty lips and button nose. Gods, it was such a shame that she had to be the leader of the Order of the Phoenix… Maybe then he could’ve convinced the Dark Lord to spare her life. “Why are you letting me do this – You’re smarter than this, Granger!”
“I… I have a theory,” she muttered in a strangely calm tone.
“A theory? What’s that supposed to mean?”
For a moment, there was only silence between them. Her ragged breath tickled the skin of his neck and his body shared the warmth it had to give between them during the cold dark night. If anyone were to see them like this, they’d surely misunderstand the situation completely.
“You saved me,” she blurted out of nowhere, and his mind went blank in response. Fuck… When did she notice this?
“Just today, during the raid – I saw you using a shielding spell,” she continued as if reading his mind. “I thought that it had been someone else – But your shade of blond hair is unmistakable, even if you’re wearing that ugly-looking mask.”
His tongue tasted of ash inside his mouth, and the blood in his veins ran cold as he pictured the scene in his mind.
Granger was busy helping a Muggle couple and their children evacuate their home while Hell broke loose around them and Draco couldn’t help but watch in awe as the witch everyone claimed carried muddied blood acted far more dignified than all of the Pureblooded stuck-ups he had ever met. Then, Dolohov – that fucking bastard, as always – appeared out of nowhere and carried hatred in his eyes as he moved his wand to aim at her.
A natural protective instinct took over him when he cast the spell to block out the Avada Kedavra. It wasn’t like anyone would know, anyway – there was a fierce battle happening around them and he was sure that the mass of dark shapes and Silver-masked men all looked the same to everyone.
Blimey! If Granger had recognized him, then surely Dolohov also did! And if he did, then he sure as Hell had already blabbered it all to Bellatrix and his father… Maybe even the Dark Lord himself, if he was present at Malfoy Manor.
Good Godric, and to think that his broken mask was bad enough!
He groaned, digging his hand into his hair – his fucking pale blond hair with an ‘ unmistakable ’ shade of colour that was now going to be his bloody death sentence. By his side, the broken mask mocked him with its empty eyes again and he could’ve sworn that he heard it laugh.
Was it even worth it to try and fix it?
“Draco –” his fumbling mind suddenly focused on a sweet voice that echoed from underneath him. When he looked down, cold mercurial eyes clashed with fiery amber ones and he felt his heart hammering inside his chest against his better judgement. “Why did you choose to save me?”
“Wh– What?” He breathed, looking away to preserve his own sanity. It didn’t seem like it was working at all. “Since when were we on a first-name basis?”
“Since the moment you decided to save me – your sworn enemy – from a killing curse. And I guess I’m just curious as to why you did this.”
“I don’t care – Can’t you just let this go?”
“You saved my life.”
“It was a mistake!”
“I don’t think so!” She cried with conviction in her voice. And with an incredible amount of force, he felt her grabbing him by the lapels of his robes and manoeuvring him downwards as he fell to the side – freeing her just enough for her to get the upper hand and straddle his hips instead. It was definitely strange to be the one pinned underneath, this time. “Can you really call this a mistake?”
As if he wanted to torment him further, she took his hand – his recently healed hand, mind you – and placed it over her beating heart. And while he was sure she wanted to make some sort of symbolic point, all his poor mind could focus on was the softness of her thighs grinding on his groin and how his hand was actually grabbing onto her… Erhm… Ample bosom.
Holy shite, he was not expecting his night to end up like this!
“Granger –” he muttered, feeling his face catching on fire as if he was a schoolboy fooling around with girls in the broom closet for the first time again. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Her left hand rested on his solid chest and she shifted her hips on top of him in a way that made him groan out loud – purely out of instinct, of course.
“What?” Her voice grew silky and honeyed as she leaned forward – their noses were inches apart now and Draco was unsure of what to expect next. With a witch like Granger, it seemed like anything could happen. And the prospect both terrified him and filled him with jovial elation. “Are you uncomfortable?”
Well… No. Not exactly.
For the most part, he was confused. And a small part of him was incredibly thrilled, as well – though his more lucid part also reminded him that she could very well be planning on killing him right then and there.
But if anything, if she truly planned on offing him, he imagined that it would be a sweet way to go. He couldn’t deny that he loved the smell of citrus and lavender that wafted from her voluminous hair and her delicate hands on top of his chest offered some reassuring pressure that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
“Gr– Granger… What are you –”
“Why did you save me, Draco?”
“I – I don’t know.”
“I feel like you’re lying.”
“Why would I be lying?”
“I’m just trying to test out a theory,” she muttered, snaking her hand upwards to cradle his jaw. “I feel like this wasn’t the first time you saved me either.”
Shite. She figured him out already.
All those years trying his damn hardest to protect Granger without her (or anyone else) figuring it out were finally back to bite him in the arse. Honestly, it had been a good run – if it wasn't for him, Draco was sure that this brilliant, courageous and frankly reckless witch would have already been knocked out by the other Death Eaters a long time ago.
But he wouldn't admit anything out loud. Not just yet, at least.
So, instead of an answer, he decided to act like a Gryffindor lion for the first time in his life: he took advantage of their proximity to grab her by the hair and pulled her down towards him – connecting their lips in a fierce kiss.
He could feel that she was caught by surprise due to her lack of immediate reaction – and the thought of catching her off-guard filled him with pride. But as he nipped and licked the seam of her plump lips, she soon caught up with what was happening and moved in accordance, trying to take control of the kiss while also undoing some of the buttons from their robes.
She sucked on his tongue and used her hips to squeeze his waist and make him growl like a beast in rut. And given how his cock was already begging for some action since she had sat on him, it didn't take him long to act like a beast, too.
"You bloody minx!" He barked as soon as they needed to come up for air, but she never dignified him with a response, as she kissed him again and again.
Feeling the need to regain the upper hand, he held her hips in place with his large hands and kissed a path from her swollen lips down to the pulse of her neck and followed her collarbone to the valley of her breasts – leaving marks with his teeth that he hoped wouldn't be easy to get rid of.
"Draco," she moaned his name in a way that made him desire for more. His hips bucked upwards and he was delighted by the fact that he got exactly what he wanted, as she cried for his name again. "Oh – Draco!"
"What is it, Hermione ?" He asked with a breathless gasp, squeezing the soft flesh of her arse through her heavy robes. Gods, how he wished to get rid of those cumbersome clothes already.
"We –" she moaned, digging her hands into his hair as she kissed his jaw. "We should stop this."
"Stop?" He chuckled with a low baritone that made her shudder in response. He kissed her lips in a surprisingly chaste manner, before he continued to whisper in her ear. "Is this what you really want?"
"N– no, but…" she sighed, kissing his lips one last time before she suddenly hopped off of him – much to his chagrin. And she had a playful grin on her delectable lips that only made him long for their taste again. "A cottage's garden is hardly the ideal place to fuck a remorseful Death Eater. "
Bugger. She had a point.
He looked to the side, where his mask lay on the ground and he swallowed a thick lump down his throat. Was this all he was to her, then? A remorseful Death Eater?
"Draco," she approached him, resting her hand on his bicep and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Why are you still here? It's been hours since the attack happened."
"I can't go back," he muttered, showing her the broken pieces of his mask. And although he knew there was no way she could grasp the true meaning and importance behind his silver mask, he was sure that she was smart enough to understand that his life was now at risk.
“Can’t you fix it?”
“I was trying to – until a certain Order leader decided to attack me out of nowhere. For Merlin’s sake… I’ve got to be the world’s shittiest Death Eater!”
“Well, I have to agree, You didn’t even kill me when you got the chance!”
“You’re not bloody helping, witch.”
“Perhaps…” Granger looked at him with a glint in her eyes, moving to kiss him on the cheek. “We could make use of this opportunity.”
“What do you mean?”
Suddenly, she took the pieces of the broken mask and threw them on the grounds of the village that had been raided and destroyed only a few hours prior – shattering it even further as she used her wand to cast a spell on it and making it truly impossible to fix it – and with a mischievous grin she looked at him with her hand extended towards him.
“Come with me, Draco.”
It was an offer impossible to refuse.
His breath stilled in his throat and he stopped for a moment to consider his options. His eyes focused on his Death Eater’s mask, shattered beyond recognition and still smeared with his own blood. And then, he focused on Granger’s eyes filled with a fire that could very well burn a hole into his heart in a matter of seconds.
“Lead the way, Hermione.”