Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Forty-Nine

"You know, the night I gave you a reason to hate me, I came here."

I had unraveled my shirt from around his forearm and was rinsing it out in the sink when Draco said this. My heart stuttered in pain as I remembered exactly what he'd told me that day. I believed him when he said he'd been lying, but it still hurt to remember the words nonetheless.

"Is that when you... you know...?" I gestured nervously toward the older scars on his arm, and he glanced down too, shaking his head.

"No, I first did that the day classes started," he answered, placing his arm in my outstretched hand so I could run fresh water over it. I took his arm in my hand gingerly, trying my best not to make him hurt worse than he already was.

"It was hard, walking around school with it. It didn't take long for me to realize it wasn't all that Father made it out to be...." he winced as I gently rinsed the wounds, but otherwise showed no sign of pain. "I don't know why I keep trying. I mean, I know it isn't going to come off," he sighed, his shoulders relaxing as I wrapped my cool, damp shirt over the mark.

"Well, it's a distraction, isn't it?" I asked, tucking the end of the fabric underneath itself so it wouldn't unravel.

"Distraction?" Draco repeated, frowning in confusion.

"Yeah. Almost like purposely causing yourself pain that's stronger than the other pain you deal with. Just to distract yourself from it for a while."

"Right... I suppose...." Draco agreed, although he still looked mildly puzzled.

I smiled half-heartedly, shaking my head at how easily we were discussing this. Shouldn't I be more worried? Shouldn't I be rushing him to the hospital wing?

But I felt oddly unfazed, as if nothing could shock me at this point. Maybe it was better to keep a level head?

"Anyways," I started, taking a step away from him so I could think clearly without interference from his scent, "we should probably get that taken care of," I pointed to his arm, and he grimaced.

"How exactly do you suggest we do that?" he demanded, sounding rudely derisive, "D'you really think I want to get Madam Pomfry involved —"

"Draco, do I look like an idiot to you?"

Draco stared at me with narrowed eyes. "Is that a trick question?" he asked carefully.

I shoved him, rolling my eyes, and he laughed.

"Obviously I'm not going to expose your... tattoo to Madam Promfry."

"What's a tattoo?"

"Nevermind," I sighed, taking his right hand and leading him out of the lavatories and down the corridor.

He folded his left arm close to his body as we walked, but he left his right hand clutching mine, as if holding my hand was a first priority, and cradling his injured arm was only second to that.

"So... what are we doing?" Draco asked quietly to break the silence, glancing around for Filch as we hurried down the corridors.

"I'm going to heal you myself, but I'll need my wand," I told him, pausing at the corner near the stairs to glance around for Filch or Mrs. Norris before continuing on.

"Do you even know how to heal?" Draco asked, sounding awed.

"No, but how hard can it be?" I smirked back at Draco, and I caught the panic that flashed across his face as I looked away. I was joking, of course, but he didn't need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

We walked together into the dungeon, entering through the portrait hole. Luckily, there was no one left in the common room — something I had never seen before; the common room was always occupied by at least one person. I hadn't even considered the time before, but now that I saw the common room empty, I wondered how late it really was.