When We Were Beasts

Before:Part Six

**hey everyone!! Thank you so much for reading. This weeks song that I listened to while writing was "duvet" by bôa. Enjoy :)***

Hermione found that the reason it was so dark still, even as they emerged into the new BackRoom, was that they had entered the Hogwarts Potions classroom.

"Oh, how charming. This is exactly what I wanted to see after escaping deadly Shadow Cats." Malfoy muttered as he skimmed a finger across the nearest desk.

Hermione crossed her arms. "You should be glad we're here, Malfoy. This room holds valuable potions that could help us immensely. This is better than finding some stupid Firebolt."

Malfoy cursed at her back, but she was already moving away. Hermione wandered over to the nearest shelf, eyes darting to read all of the labels, and inspecting the ones that were anonymous.
"Draught of Peace, veritaserum, pepperup..."
Hermione skipped over amortentia, and then thought better of it. She could always use it to dose an enemy. It was a powerful arsenal most didn't take advantage of.

Hermione's hands were wrapped around eleven potion bottles, the glass clinking as she walked quickly to Malfoy.
"Open up your bag." She demanded.
He closed the book he had been reading and raised a pale brow at her.
"I'll need the magic word with that attitude."
Hermione ground her teeth. She glared at him, but he just grinned.
"Please." The word was growled out so narrowly through her teeth that it truly just sounded like "Pl-grrr-ease-rrr."
Malfoy winked as he opened it wide. "Good girl."
Hermione would have swatted at him if her arms weren't full. She carefully released the potions into the bag, and reached behind Malfoy to grab the potions book.

"We don't need that," He scoffed. "We're both experts in the subject. That will just take up more space."
"As if your bag doesn't have an extension charm on it." She snapped back. Mild surprise flashed in his eyes. She'd had one on her bag for years, of course she knew when one was being used.

"Besides," Hermione pointed out. "We're not perfect. Better to err on the side of caution so we can follow the instructions than try to rely on our memory should we become forgetful. And that will allow me to be precise if we come across ingredients that can be used to brew something we don't possess or run out of."
"Do you expect to pack a cauldron in here, too?"
"Don't be daft, Draco."

They both paused.

He whistled low. "Say it again."
Hermione feigned ignorance. "Say what?"
He stepped closer. "Say my name again."

She wasn't sure why she'd called him Draco instead of Malfoy. It had been a slip up. An error. He wasn't someone she could call on so casually.
Malfoy wasn't like Harry or Ron or even Neville. He was a partner. Nothing else.

Before she could scramble for any sort of come back, her stomach felt horribly tight, as if someone had crucioed her from the inside out. She nearly doubled over.

"Is there a lavatory in here?" She tried to sound casual as she asked it, but Malfoy's sharp eyes fixated on where her hands bunched at her abdomen, and she could feel her skin grow clammy. She must have paled.

With an effortless grace reserved for those who grew up elite, Malfoy ripped part of his robe off. With the large piece of cloth he ripped it into clean strips. Ten, to be precise. Hermione could only stare.

"Will this do?" Malfoy asked as he set the strips on the table next to them.

Hermione was speechless.

"I- I don't-"
"Granger, I had a mother. I also know about the female anatomy. I'm not a boy who laughs at a woman's scientific inevitabilities. Now, if we happen to stumble into Pomfrey's ward, we can happily burn those and find something more...appropriate. But please, take them and say nothing but 'Thank you, Draco Malfoy. You are most gentlemanly and I will do anything for you.' Or something of the sort. Don't refuse."

Hermione did take them, and his fingers brushed against hers as he passed them on. She said nothing. She only looked at Draco Malfoy in a slightly new light. She had expected a crude joke. Hermione expected him to be the little weasel she'd always known him to be she was eleven.

"Why?" Embarrassment covered her tone like spilled honey. Her words were sticky. "Why would you do this, act this way, for me? A -"
She couldn't say the term carved into her arm. A slur and a damnation.

Malfoy's grin fell away as he looked at her. Truly looked at her. His gaze burned to the point that she looked down at her feet. His intensity was almost tangible, a sunburn to her senses.

"We're allies until we aren't, Granger. That means we help each other. We care for each other. We do what is in our best interest,and the best interest of each other. Look at me." Hermione did. "You can think of me as a snake or a Death Eater or even a beast, but I cannot be an enemy and a partner. We likely won't like each other at the end of this any more than we do now, but any other mentality will get us both killed." He looked over and upwards. "Snape's office has a lavatory." Malfoy turned around without another word and began to dig through each cupboard.

Hermione swallowed as she turned and made her way to Snape's office.

Malfoy was right, but that thought made her saliva turn to ash in her mouth.

She could hate him, but she'd have to trust him. She needed it to become second nature, as easy as breathing. An instinct like blinking or swallowing.
At least, until they turned on each other.

As Hermione finally clicked the bathroom door shut, she began to cry as she scrubbed at her ruined knickers, the water running pink as it washed down the drain. Next she scrubbed at her hair and face, the blood on her cheeks from Hannah and the blood that crusted in her ears her own. It must have been the blood she smelled when she first awoke.

There was so much adrenaline, fear, anger, and anxiety running through her that she felt like she was being electrocuted every time a new thought arose.

Where's Harry?
When this is all over, I won't know myself.
How did I get here?
Malfoy is going to kill me.
Did they find my parents?
I'm going to die here.
What happened at the Battle of Hogwarts?

She wiped her nose.
She was Hermione Granger. All she needed to remember was that she had survived so much over the years- she could survive this, too. Her mind was her might. There was nothing she couldn't solve.

Hermione wrapped the ripped strip of Malfoy's robe around her knickers twice before she slid them back on with a grimace. They were cold, and still damp even through the extra fabric, and the feel of them made her shiver involuntarily.

There was something grotesquely intimate in what Malfoy had done for her.

She tried not to dwell on it.