Chapter Text
She's standing in front of a mirror.
Staring at her picture in between golden rims.
Soul scars
She'd read about them:
Soulbond
Ancient magic
Meant to make sure the strongest magical genes meet
Go beyond reason
Extremely rare
Mark your soulmate
Your equall
Your partner
Your lover...
Not to follow it will make you miserable
Lacking
Not able to fill your full magical potential
Barren...
She remembers because she found the subject fascinating.
Because it was like a fairytale.
Someone who is made for you.
Someone your magic chose.
Who wouldn't dream about finding someone like that?
She remembers,
because she had scars.
Marks she had no idea where they had come from.
Ever since she was a little girl.
Her mother would ask her where the scratch on her cheek had come from.
Looked at her disapprovingly when she had told her she had no idea.
But the marks were so insignificant and healed so rapidly she had forgotten them completely.
Until she'd found the text about soul scars.
After that, after every new scar she had sat in her bed,
wondering if someone was now staring at the newly appeared scars.
If someone was afraid what was going on?
If someone was thinking about her... Their soulmate, hurt.
Did that someone know it was her?
Normal wounds leave normal scars.
Scars that fade when the mark heals.
Deeper wounds leave permanent scars, that fade over time.
Scars you wouldn't see if you didn't know they're there.
The worse the injury the more visible the scar.
Just like on your own skin.
Dark curses leave different marks.
Slashes and bruises that don't fade as days go by.
They terrify her as they start to appear.
Until fifth year her soulmate had been fairly safe.
But then again,
So had she.
It began over summer.
She woke up in the middle of the night with a jolt.
And when she went to the toilet there were bruises on her wrists.
Scratches on her knees.
A bruise on her neck.
Fingerprints,
like someone had strangled her.
Her soulmate...
The person meant for her,
Had been hurt.
Tortured, if she had to guess.
After that night there were a few occasions she had to glamour the scars on her face.
Once a visible handprint of a palm in black and blue on her cheek.
Her heart ached when she looked in the mirror and saw it.
Her soulmate did not have a good life.
Sometimes she looked at her classmates and wondered if it was one of them.
But her scars didn't match with anyone.
She never saw anyone wear the scars she had hidden with glamour.
Surely she'd notice...
It had gotten worse when fifth year had ended.
Her soulmate was not safe, that much was obvious.
The absolutely worst scars to find on her body, were the slashes of a dark curse.
She was fairly sure it was cruciatus, because before the scar appeared, she felt the curse in her body.
Like an electric jolt.
And a halo of pain that wasn't her own.
When it went on she started to panic a little.
Her soulmate was cruciod frequently.
And crucio was still an illegal spell.
What had happened to them?
Who could she tell?!
What would she tell them?
That someone was being tortured?
Someone she shared soul scars with...
Someone was tortured with magic and hit by hard hands.
Someone was on their knees on the ground, their wrists bound.
Someone somewhere in the world.
Someone who had a cut on their ankle, they've gotten when she was five...
Someone who had a bite mark on their palm, so light you could barely see it.
Someone who had long scratches, like claw marks, on their shoulder.
Someone who wore dark bruiselike scars on their side, over the lungs.
And behind their ear. Same as her... Scars from Dolohov's wand.
Someone who she knew nothing about.
Not their age
Or nationality
Or gender
Or anything!
Only that the person was made for her!
And they were hurting!
Badly!
It was way too vague for her liking.
So she hadn't told anyone.
Tonight as she stares at her image in the mirror she thinks she should have.
Maybe there would have been something more she could have done!
Because now it was too late!
She doesn't want to cry.
Doesn't want to fall on her knees to the floor.
She doesn't like the whimper that comes out of her.
She doesn't need the helplessness.
The sorrow.
The dread.
But they come anyway as she stares at the black and blue scar on her wrist.
A scar that burns even though it's not really hers.
A scar the shape of a skull and a snake...
.
.
.
The train whistles.
They're going back Home!
To Hogwarts.
After a while she realizes how hard it is to concentrate on Harry and Ron.
Hard to concentrate on a book.
Hard to concentrate in general.
"A Death Eater."
She snaps her head up at Harry's words. "What?"
The boys give her a funny look.
"Malfoy." Harry repeats.
She huffs, "Don't be silly Harry. He's underage, they'd never mark underaged."
"Did you see him? There's something definitely off."
She shakes her head and goes back to her book.
But her thoughts go to the scars on her chest.
And the slashes on her back.
To the circles around her wrists.
And the dark mark on her arm.
Her soulmate.
Her partner
Her equal
Her lover...
A Death Eater
Unwilling probably...but a Death Eater.
Then she thinks of of the sneer on Malfoy's face.
Filthy
Undeserving
Dirty
Unworthy
Mudblood
No
It's not him!
It can't be him!
.
.
.
Apples and spearmint
And fresh grass.
That's what her soulmate smells like.
She closes her eyes as the smell of Amortentia fills her senses.
Behind her eyelids the smell turns to colors.
And the colors melt to sounds.
She's standing in her private world, filled with smell and color and sound.
She can almost taste the fresh apple.
Someone coughs.
She opens her eyes, regains focus and tells Professor Slughorn what the potion is.
She's slicing the ingredients when her knife slips.
She hisses and lifts her bleeding finger to see how bad she managed to cut herself.
But as she lifts her gaze she she sees him.
Malfoy, ahead of her, two tables to her right, lifting his own finger.
The exact same finger she's holding up.
Fuck
Just to be sure she puts her finger in her mouth.
In between her teeth.
And bites down.
He flinches, still staring at his hand.
"Did you hurt yourself?" Ron asks from her left.
She has no idea what he's talking about.
All her thoughts have flown out of the window.
"Hermione?" Ron looks a little worried now.
Malfoy's her soulmate.
Malfoy who hates her.
Malfoy who...
Who's a Death Eater.
Harry was right!
She lifts her hand to her wrist.
To the spot where she's hiding his secrets.
She wants to scream.
Or cry.
Or throw up.
To run and never look at him again!
Never think of him again!
Never see these scars on her again!
Never wonder if he knows...
If he even knows he has a soulmate?
If he knows it's her?
By now he hasn't even glanced at her direction.
Surely he would have if he knew?
Ron on the other hand is still waiting for an answer.
"No, it's just a scratch." she tells him.
Turns back to her potion,
And messes it up horribly.
When the class ends she rushes off.
Closes the curtains around her bed and draws her knees to her chest.
She should have known!
There are claw marks on her shoulder!
Claw marks, that have been there since their third year!
How could she have been so blind!?
But she didn't know about soul scars when she got them.
Didn't even pay attention to them before they were already faded.
She did remember they had burned when they appeared.
But she had more pressing matters in her mind then.
Now she thinks she should have been able to put it together before.
It was obvious!
Maybe she didn't want to see what was right in front of her.
That much for romanticizing the fact that she had a soulmate.
She used to think she was blessed
But she had come to realize that in truth, she was cursed!
.
.
.
It only gets worse.
All of it!
Harry gets worse
And Dumbledore
And the wizarding world
And Malfoy
By Christmas she thinks she's not going to be able to hold back much longer.
And still she tortures herself by standing in front of a mirror, staring at the new marks appearing every day.
He takes curses and hexes and hits.
But them she'd withstand.
It's what she thinks he does to himself that hurt her more.
Partly because they make her think she misjudged him.
And, because she is a Gryffindor, a will to help nearly overpowers her.
But he'd never let her help.
So she sits on her bed at night, staring at her wrist as new scars form over the dark mark.
It's like he wishes to carve it off
First with bare hands,
then with something sharper.
Dragging them along the edges of the skull.
She wants to scream!
To go to Harry and demand to know Malfoy's whereabouts from the map.
Then go to him and...
What?
He'd kill her if he knew she knew all his secrets.
But he's made for her!
How can she just let it be?
It's not like there are no problems in her life without this soulmate mess.
There are!
A lot!
And Ron is trying to suck Lavender's face of it seems.
So he's no help.
Plus Harry is trying to prove Malfoy is a death eater in a mission to kill Dumbledore.
That's probably true.
But somehow she still tries to get Harry to think of something else.
Then comes that night.
That horrible evening she'd rather not have a memory off.
She's sitting in the common room with Ron, when it happens.
It's so sudden and so strong she cries out.
Before Ron gets to ask what's wrong with her she's already running.
"I got to go!" she yells as she rushes up the stairs to the bathroom.
Bangs the door shut, falls on her knees on the floor and throws up.
It's like her body's on fire!
There should be pain.
But there's only fire.
So she drags herself infront of the mirror and strips off her blouse.
He's dead!
He must be!
No one can take a hit like that and survive.
The marks go from her shoulder blade all the way across her chest to her hip.
Like someone has slashed her body half with a sword.
She wants to throw up again.
She has no idea what curse leaves a mark like that.
Suddenly it hits her: what if he's alone? Bleeding out somewhere in the castle?
Judging by the scar he has minutes, if he's still alive.
Minutes that tick away as she stands there starting at herself in the mirror.
What if she's the only one who knows?
In haste she throws a jumper on and rushes back down to the common room and out the portrait hole before anyone can ask where she's going.
She has no idea where she's going.
But she's still running.
If he dies what happens to her?
If he dies will she be only half there for her whole life?
If he dies she'll never know what might have been!
She runs straight into Harry.
"Hermione?"
He's pale and shaking and covered in...blood.
"Oh my God Harry, what happened?"
"I...it was Malfoy. He... I used a spell from the book...it...he..."
That's all she needs to know.
"where is he Harry!?" She almost screams.
She knows she sounds desperate
And it's the weirdest thing to ask at a moment like that.
"Did you just leave him!?"
She takes his shoulder and shakes a little, willing him to understand this is about life and death.
"Snape, he got there... I think."
She's already going.
Harry yells after her but she doesn't care.
Harry does not need her now.
But he might!
The hospital wing is empty,
All but one bed.
She was so in haste to get here.
Now she doesn't know how to approach him.
He lies there, wrapped in bandages,
Eyes closed.
Breathing.
Alive.
She let's out a shaky breath and takes a step closer.
She can see his arms now. Free of bandages.
Stares at the lines,
the ones she knows so well,
because they're hers.
Only hers.
He has hidden his own,
But kept hers.
Why?
Does he know what they are?
Has he been searching for someone who's scars match his?
Like she did?
She takes a seat beside his bed.
And then she stays. Sits there, next to him.
Looking at his chest rising and falling as he breathes.
Studying his solemn face.
Resist on the urge to take his hand.
Or to run her fingers along the lines under the glamours.
She has never been this close to him.
Never looked at him like this.
There's beauty in his hard features.
Grace she never saw.
A stray blond hair, hangs on his face.
Even In his sleep he looks tired.
Whatever she thought about her soulmate
Whatever was running in her head when new scars appeared
She never thought it would feel like this.
This hopeless.
Crushing.
And controversial.
She wants to yell at him.
To demand answers
And decency.
To make him pay for all the bad things he'd said and done.
And at the same time somehow comfort him.
To put her arms around him and inhale the scent of apples and spearmint.
To hug him close and tell him she'll help him get through this.
But she could never do that.
He'd never let her.
He'd sneer at her and call her a mudblood.
... A mudblood his magic chose for him...
A mudblood who is the only one able to bear him children.
A mudblood who's dirty blood is the only way the Malfoy line can carry on existing.
A mudblood marked as his equal.
She sits by him until four in the morning.
Then she gets up and leans to whisper in his ear.
Breathing in his smell of apples and spearmint marred with a rusty smell of blood.
"Please stop hurting yourself. There's help, if you'd look for it."
Then she turns and leaves.
Doesn't see the dark grey eyes that follow her to the door.
.
.
.
She spends the next two weeks debating whether she should seek him out or not.
Whether she should demand him answers.
Whether she should try to find out if he knows she's his soulmate.
She's not sure if its finally fate that interferes, because an opportunity presents itself without her really looking for it.
Truthfully she's trying to avoid Mclaggen when she finds Draco entering the Room of Requirement.
Before the door behind him closes she has slipped in too.
The room seems to be a pile of rubble.
A labyrinth of forgotten things.
Endless corridors of stuff that might have meant something for someone once.
What was he doing here?
What did he ask for to get this?
She stops in front of a big black cabinet.
It's standing alone,
Like someone moved rubble away from around if.
Just by looking at it, she knows it's not a normal cabinet.
There are carvings, like runes, drawn to it's sides.
She doesn't recognize the marks.
But before she gets to process it further, there's a wand pressed at her back.
"Make one move and it'll be your last." he hisses from behind her.
Shit she was careless!
How had she forgotten he was here too?
That he was the reason she came here!
"What are you doing here?"
He's whispering like someone would hear them.
No one will.
If he wants to hurt her, no one will hear her scream.
But she's not scared of him.
"I followed you." she answers boldly and turns around before he gets to react.
This close he looks dangerous.
Tired and spent and furious and a little crazy on top of everything.
And the worst part is that she knows why.
She kind of understands why.
His wand shakes a little.
"Why?"
She hasn't planned this through. Doesn't know how to approach him.
Has no idea what he is doing and what he does to her if she now tells him what she knows.
So she says nothing.
Let him make the next move.
"Is this because of Potter? Or some of your personal attempts to clear your crown? Or did Dumbledore maybe send you?"
Maybe he has no idea about the link they share?
Maybe she's nothing more to him than a too nosey know-it-all?
"I should kill you on the spot!" he growls, "No one would find you here."
She's not sure why still after threads like that, she feels like she has the upper hand.
Has no idea what courage makes her answer: "But you won't."
There's a hint of doubt in his eyes.
That's all she needs to flick out her own wand and disarm him with a swift movement.
"You should work on your defense when you make threats like that."
She's not sure where this arrogance comes from.
"Fuck you."
"So, " she throws both wands further on the floor, "we should talk."
"Why would I want to talk to you?" He spits, "you filthy..."
"I wouldn't finish that if I were you."
He looks baffled.
"I don't have time for this game!" he twists his hands.
Acting all cool. But she sees his discomfort.
"Do you know what these are?" she shows him the scars on her hand.
Not the one with his dark mark, but the other.
He doesn't have to answer.
She sees it in his eyes when they lock with hers.
She's not sure if he's ever looked at her like this.
Just to look and not to insult.
So she rolls up the other sleeve too and shoves the dark mark in front of his face.
He takes two steps back, stumbling a little.
Next time he looks at her his face is full of hate.
And something that looks like desperation.
"Do you know what this is!?" She demands.
"I swear, I'll kill you." His voice comes out so small it sounds like pleading.
"You won't." she tells him again, "If you know what it means."
He snaps then.
Closes the distance between them and invades her space.
"Of course I fucking know Granger!" He now roars at her face.
"My skin is fucking covered with scars! Has been since I was a boy. I fucking know what it means! It doesn't mean I want to kill you any less!"
She straightens herself. "Then you know that if you kill me, you loose the chance for your magic to ever work right? If you kill me, you'll never be whole again. If you kill me you'll kill a part of yourself in the process."
She leans a little closer still. Making sure to emphasize every word.
"Then you know, that if I die the Malfoy line dies with me."
"Like it has any other hope!" His eyes are flaming.
"If there's life, there's hope."
She says it, even when she knows having children for the Malfoy line will be about the last thing she'd ever do!
Suddenly there's a shift in him.
His face twists, like there's a knife on his stomach that someone keeps twisting.
"I'll be dead anyway before the end of the summer." After he has spoken the words, she barely hears, he looks like his ready to run away.
"I know you weren't willing!" she blurts out.
Maybe to stop him.
In any other situation it would be almost funny how his emotions swing from desperate to blowing anger.
"Fuck you Granger!" He's now yelling again, "You know nothing of me!"
"Who knows you Draco?"
It's just a split second but she saw it anyway.
Her question hit the mark.
Moved something inside of him.
She knows continuing will probably make him want to leave again. But she can't stop now.
"Your parents? Does your father consider your feelings when he hits you in the face?"
His eyes flash.
"Does your mother know how many times they cruciod you before you were marked? Do Pansy or Zabini or Nott know how they tied your wrists and cursed you while you were on your knees on the ground? Do they know how your sektumsepra scar refuses to heal? Are your housemates who look up to you, a Death Eater, aware how desperately you wish to carve your mark off?"
"Shut up Granger."
His voice is shaking.
She doesn't have to wonder if he's angry. She knows he is.
Probably far beyond furious.
But she's not afraid of his anger.
Never was
Never will be.
"You think you know me because you share my scars? You think that the sob stories you've made up give you a right to think you know me?"
It's him who speaks.
But her who takes the steps to stand before him.
"No." she answers solemnly, "But I also think that all I thought I knew of you were wrong."
"I don't need your fucking pity."
"Is it pity you feel when you look at my scars on you?" she crooks her head a little.
This is a game she's going to win!
"I don't spend my days thinking about someone else's scars."
It's a lie.
A poor lie.
"Is that why you've hidden your scars and left mine visible?" She presses, "Because you don't have time to think about someone else's scars?"
No answer
"How long have you known it's me?"
Still silence.
"I know you don't like me." She reaches for his arm like an impulse.
But he jerks further before their hands make contact.
She lets her hand drop, "And I can't tell you my feelings for you are any different. But I know as well as you do that this is not a mistake in magic."
He opens his mouth to argue but she lifts her hand to silence him.
"This is something that goes beyond any of our understanding. Magic, centuries-old, designed to make sure magical blood survives strong, chose you for me... Or me for you, long before our free will had anything to do with it. There must be something we share more than scars. And I'm willing to see what it is. But..."
"So you're the one making the rules here?" The look on his face is not quite a smirk, but not a sneer either.
"I know nothing else of you, but that you do not want to be in the state you are. So please Draco,"
This time her attempt to touch his arm is successful.
She has never touched him before. Even when she sat by him in the hospital wing.
She has slapped him once, but that was it.
And maybe she anticipated something?
like a shock going through her, making her realize it's him she's been waiting for her whole life.
He raises his eyebrows at her plea, but nothing else magnificent happens.
"Let me help you!"
At that, he actually lets out a mirthless laugh, "You have no idea what I'm supposed to do. How do you think you could possibly help me!?"
"We could go to Dumbledore..."
"You think I haven't done that?"
She stops to stare at him.
"I told him everything. And he told me to go on like nothings different."
No, not Dumbledore.
He wouldn't just dismiss a cry for help.
Surely he's lying.
She didn't realize she was shaking her head before she feels his breath on her face.
He has leaned closer.
"Even Dumbledore can't help me. So stop Granger!"
He's so close she can feel his lips move.
"Stop following me. Stop thinking thinking about me. Stop analyzing your every scar like they're a story. Stop romanticizing the idea of a soulmate and accept the fact that you'll never find yours. I'm beyond saving, so leave and never look back!"
Then he's out the door.
Only then does she realize there are tears in her eyes.
.
.
.
Next time she sees him he's far beyond help.
And so is she.
They're standing in the entrance hall of the Malfoy Manor.
His face only inches from her, his father demanding him to recognize them.
His gaze holds hers.
And for a split second time pauses.
He looks at her like he can see right through.
Please
She begs in her mind.
Please you're the only hope.
But nowadays hope is like sand, slipping through her fingers.
.
.
.
She wakes up in the shell cottage.
Sits on her bed, staring at the word on her arm.
Wondering if he's sitting in his room thinking about how he's going to hide this scar.
She'd heard him yell when the chandelier fell.
Doesn't know what he did, but feels the bounds on her wrists, scratching the skin.
He might still be alive, but if they are taking him to Voldemort...
It doesn't take long for Harry and Ron to emerge.
Embrace her and thank heavens they're all still alive!
And Dobby for giving his life to save theirs.
"We've got Malfoy, " Harry tells her after a while.
She freezes.
Turns to look at her best friend.
Does he know?
"He followed us here!" Harry elaborates, "Tried to tell us he doesn't want to be a death eater but refused to show us his mark."
"I'm sure he'll run back as soon as he gets a chance." Ron mutters.
But she has stood up, "Where is he?"
"In the cellar, Bill made sure the wards..."
She doesn't hear the rest of it.
Because she's running.
Down the stairs, around the house.
He's sitting on the only stool in the dark room.
Looking gloom.
Scratches on his face, his white shirt little torn.
She stands before him.
He lifts his gaze and the expression on his face changes.
She's not sure what to make of it.
"Why are you here?"
He huffs, "Why are you?"
"It's not the question."
"You know why." There's venom in his voice.
Venom a prisoner does not afford to have.
"I don't think I do."
She lifts her chin, towering over him, like she still had the power.
He turns his tied hands on his lap.
The marks are still red, like burning.
Ugly carvings over his dark mark.
Like hers.
MUDBLOOD
"I thought I was dying." He lifts his eyes at her.
There's pain now.
"So did I" she whispers, barely audible.
They stare at each other in the dark silence.
Probably that's the moment something between them changes.
"Why did you follow us?" she asks after a while.
He shakes his head.
Gives her no answer.
"Did you..."
Dream about me?
Because she did. Almost every night.
Think about me?
Because she did. Sat on the bed and count the new scars.
Worry about me?
Because she did. Every time she felt the burn of a curse.
But she doesn't finish the sentence.
"Do they all know?" he finally asks.
She shakes her head slightly, "I told no one."
She doesn't know why. Why she didn't tell anyone?
And doesn't remember anymore why she thought that was the best thing to do.
"I wanted you safe." she finally whispers.
Knowing it sounds pathetic.
He laughs coldly, "How Gryffindor of you."
There's another long silence.
She has no idea how this will proceed.
How do they go on?
She needs to carry on with Harry and Ron.
But she can't just leave him here, can she?
"So what happens now?" she's not sure if he heard her.
He shrugs, "I never planned to survive this long. Maybe they'll let me rot here."
He leans his head back to stare at the dark ceiling.
She studies him.
And then suddenly she knows what she's going to do.
"Where would you go if I released you now?"
He shrugs, "I have nothing to go back to."
"If I let you go and show you a place to hide?"
"Why would you risk it?"
"You know why." she whispers.
For a moment he stays still, staring up.
Then, like in slow motion turns to her.
"Never took you for a romantic idiot Granger."
"Don't tell me you've never wondered..."
She releases his arms from the bounds.
And now they stand face to face.
She can smell him.
And with that comes the memory of the music Amortentia made her hear. The colors it made her see.
The words she has read about soul scars keep repeating in her head.
He is made for her.
Chosen for her.
If she just ignores that, she'll live her whole life knowing she just gave up before she even tried.
Even if her whole life might be shorter than she'd like.
Actually not so many hours ago she had thought her life had already came to its end.
But she's alive.
And he's here.
He followed them.
Chose the unknown above Voldemort.
It must mean something!
So she takes his hand, the one with the dark mark ruined with her mudblood scar.
"Do you know how rare it is to share scars like this?"
He nods, only slightly.
"Let me save you. Just this once. And if we survive this war, we'll talk. Once, properly. Like two people who know nothing of each other. And then we can decide."
As she lifts her eyes to meet his it feels like she's seeing him for the first time.
He's lost
And lonely.
And so broken.
She has no idea how long he's been broken.
How long he has already only half lived.
She knows the facade he kept up.
But not the boy underneath.
She's still holding his arm.
And he lifts his hand to move a stray curl from her face.
Letting the touch linger a moment longer that is necessary.
Suddenly she feels the connection between them.
For the shortest flash she can see him, the real him, in his eyes.
Maybe it's that flash that makes him nod again.
"Fine, save me then."
After that she doesn't think if her decisions are wise.
Only that she has this one chance.
Gives him her wand, and sends him to her parent's house.
"I removed their memories of me, " she tells him in haste, "I think they've searched what there is to search. No one will be interested in an empty house in a muggle neighborhood. But ward it in case."
"What about your wand."
"I'll figure something out." She tells him.
And then it's time for a goodbye.
She doesn't know why it feels so hard to leave him now.
"Promise me you'll stay safe! Until we get to figure this out."
He just nods.
There's a lump in her throat.
"Go on then."
But he just stands there. Not moving.
"Please go, "
She closes her eyes.
Doesn't feel him leave,
but closing the distance between them.
"I never thought you had this in you, "
He is way too close,
"Hermione." he whispers.
She's not sure if it's her who leans into him.
Their lips touch.
She feels him against her.
And the magic in her stirs.
Like a match igniting a fire.
Suddenly she doesn't feel like it doesn't make sense for them to share this bond.
When his lips meet hers it makes perfect sense.
Like she was born to kiss him.
But as sudden as it starts it also ends.
He's gone.
And she's left to clean up the mess she made.
And to fight a war she's not sure she'll survive.
.
.
.
Next time she sees him, he's standing on the porch of her childhood home.
It's mid May, a bright spring day.
She's coming home from the war.
And he's waiting for her, like he promised to.
And now they'll have that talk.
And then...
And then, who knows...