Across any Divide

Chapter 9

Draco locked his door behind him, warding it impenetrable as he crossed his room and took a seat on his bed. He opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew the mirror. As loathe as he was to obey the Ministry's ridiculous orders, he knew it was inevitable. Azkaban, however, was. As long as he cooperated.

With a huff, Draco flipped the mirror over in his hand and stared into it. Just like before only his eyes stared back at him for a long moment. Then the image rippled, and slowly another one came into focus. There she was, brushing her hair and looking straight at him. Draco jerked in surprise at the eye contact, eyes widening as a thought crossed his mind.

Could she see him? That's how the mirrors were supposed to work, right? Two way so they could find each other?

Draco didn't know what to do - all he could do is stare back, growing more intrigued by her emerald eyes by the second. Finally she set the brush out, and shifted partially out of view of the mirror. Draco frowned, wondering where she was going when suddenly she returned.

Draco's mouth went dry; she'd abandoned her shirt. He opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it closed a moment later. He stared, mesmerized, by the image in his mirror, watching as she shimmied out of her pants and turned around in the mirror.

He sucked in a sharp breath. She had... marks... on her back. Dark ink, in a design starting at the top of her back and words arching down the length of her spine. He'd never seen anything like - no one wore images on their skin in wizarding world... except for Death Eaters. Draco rejected the thought immediately - her marks were something entirely different from the ugly mark he carried on his arm. Her's were on her back, not somewhere obvious like a curse mark or a bond mark would be.

Her's were... elegant. The handwriting was elaborate, intricate and curvy. He wondered for a moment if it was her handwriting as he tilted his head, trying to make out the words the pretty letters spelled. "'-little, she is fierce?"

The girl's hair covered the top part of her back and the design he'd spotted when she'd first turned around. He'd been so busy trying to make out the design on her back that he didn't notice she'd shed her clothes and stepped into the shower until the pane of glass closed behind her, obscuring his vision with the steam from the hot water.

Footsteps outside his door had Draco's head snapping to attention, eyes darting to the door to double check the lock. When the footsteps moved past, Draco returned his gaze to his mirror. Questions started formulating in his mind, each more confusing than the rest.

Who was she?

Where did she get marks on her back?

Could she see him?

The last one was the most disturbing of all. The longer he looked into his mirror, watching her through the foggy glass, he became more and more sure that she couldn't see him at all. He had a hard time believing that anyone would be okay with a total stranger watching such a private thing - even if they were deemed partners in the eyes of the Ministry.

Draco got lost so deep in his thoughts he didn't realize she had stepped out of the shower until she was wrapped up in a towel, leaning down to lotion her legs.

That's when he saw it.

He hadn't seen it before because he'd been so caught up in her marks. He hadn't realized she had scars. Pink strips of skin rose up on her back, scars so thick they bubbled above the height of her normal skin. He could only see one side of her back, but he counted eight just on her right side. Draco steeled as he stared at the wounds she carried, wincing slightly as he studied them.

He'd seen wounds like that in the aftermath of the war. In prisoners who'd been beaten. Often.

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