The Shattered Dragon

Chapter 18: Dark Purple and Blood Red

The girls stood at lineup, whispering to each other as they leant against the railing waiting for their assignments. It was already ten minutes after seven and Mr. Malfoy hadn't appeared. They hadn't seen him all day in fact; not for their legilimency sessions, not at meals, not even at the bar. He'd had the Gala the night before so perhaps he was hungover, but that had never stopped him from showing his face before. In fact drunk or hungover had been his default state for years.

"Should I knock?" Leanna asked the others, stepping forward.

They all exchanged glances and shrugs and finally Claire nodded.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Leanna knocked weakly. There was a bit of shuffling behind the door. "Mr. Malfoy...it's nearly quarter past."

The door swung open and Draco stepped out in his black pajama pants and nothing else, feet bare, hair a dull mess, unshaven, his eyes red, but it was unclear if he was high or had been crying.

"Sorry girls," he said, his voice low and gravelly, as if he hadn't spoken in years. "I...hang on..."

He disappeared again and came back with his black ledger, flipping through the pages.

"Wait," Sarah said, heading for the stairs. "Hermione's not here."

Draco froze, his finger still on the page and squeezed his eyes shut. After a deep breath he shook his head.

"It's fine. Come back. She's...she won't be here...it's fine." He looked up then, his face suddenly hard and angry. "You know damn well no one is coming for her. And quit looking at each other. You all are shit at occlumency and I know you've been gossiping."

The girls stared, eyes wide, nervous at the bitter resignation in his voice, the defeated look on his face. Still they stood in their line, awaiting their assignments. Never looking up, he listed the girls who had appointments and wished the other girls a good night.

"Mr. Malfoy," Claire said, "can we do anything for you?"

He looked up at them, his little birds that he'd trapped in their cages for so long that they no longer realized they were imprisoned. No matter what he told himself or others about how he cared for them or wanted to save them, he still held them hostage, unable to leave the mansion, selling them off to strangers and friends, making a profit off of their bodies. And here they stood, eyes wide with worry, wanting to help him; the one man who didn't deserve it.

"No," he said, before closing the door on them all.

Hermione didn't leave her room. She'd become close with the elves that brought her potions and messages and they'd agreed to bring her food, books, anything she asked for a few of them visibly upset at seeing her so withdrawn. She knew Draco wouldn't stop them from helping her. He'd already knocked on her door once the day after the Gala asking if they could talk, but she'd never responded, only stood silently on the other side, her forehead resting against the door, knowing he was less than an inch away. Still, she kept the barrier up. If she saw his face she would crumble. It wasn't until she'd been sequestered away for three days that healer Moonstone came knocking, her voice low and soothing.

"Hermione, may I come in, dear? I've spoken to..." she trailed off and Hermione watched the closed door of her room, wondering what she'd say next. The silence was awkward, too long, and finally Moonstone sighed. "I only want to make sure you're alright. May I check your...injuries? I'm alone."

The bruise was hideous, dark purple and blood red, a splotchy half moon around the front of her neck. Her cheeks and eyelids were dotted with spidery broken vessels, the white of her left eye filled with blood. Moonstone's expression was grim as she rummaged through her small bag of potions and balms. She was able to clean the blood from her eye with her wand and reduce the bruise to a pink crescent that would fade before the next morning. Still it hurt to swallow and she needed pain potions to sleep.