Loving the Lonely

Chapter 10

 "Draco," Hermione greets, settling into what has mostly become her claimed chair now. Draco sits up a bit straighter, using the pillows to prop himself up, and dips his head in response. "How are you feeling today? Anything hurting still?" 

He shakes his head. "Nothing hurts too much." 

Hermione glances pointedly down at the arm he has curled around his midsection. "You're lying," she states. 

The corners of his mouth draw in and he won't meet her eyes. Hermione tuts disapprovingly and crosses her arms when he mutters something unintelligible. 

"Tell me what's wrong or I'll tell Pomfrey to keep you for another week," she commands over his grumbling. 

He says nothing at first, but he makes the mistake of lifting his head to meet her eyes. A menacing glare is all it takes for him to crack and reply. "The scarring on my stomach is just aching a bit. Nothing horrible, and I've certainly had worse." 

It shouldn't surprise her, not even a little bit. After all, she herself has suffered in and out of the war, and knows that an aching scar is one of the lightest pains. Even still, hearing him say it makes something in her shift with discomfort. 

"You shouldn't have to," she says. "Let me look at it." She stands from her chair and Draco lifts his shirt without further comment. He's grown very used to Hermione tending to him.

 Pomfrey had been hesitant to fully heal Draco with magic, not when she didn't know for sure what creature had attacked him. Draco vehemently refuses to relinquish the truth, even knowing it would mean faster healing time, despite even Hermione demanding he tell what happened. The risk of mixing magic with the possible power that the creature could have possessed was not a risk that Pomfrey was willing to take. 

As a result, of course, he has to heal the muggle way. Though it's much safer, the fact that they allowed the wound to heal naturally meant that the deepest wounds, the one on his stomach and his shoulder, healed with a noticeable jagged scar. The scar tissue could be made to look more like the rest of the skin, once he is completely healed, but it won't ever fully disappear. 

With the scar still so fresh, though, it was prone to faint itching and, on occasion, dull pain that wouldn't let up and became a bother after extended time periods. It's been bothering Draco for days, but Hermione had thought it would be getting better. Then again, she's more than well aware now how skilled he is at hiding his actual condition. She's just glad he hasn't been allowed to perform any spell work. Now that she's seen him without the glamour charm, seen what his true appearance is, seen how wrecked he's become because of the trauma he's experienced, she isn't sure she could take seeing the false image he displays to the world. 

"What's the diagnosis, medi-witch Granger?" 

Well-adjusted to his teasing, Hermione focuses on the scar and ignores what he's saying. She carefully prods at the area around the scar, watching the way his jaw clamps down hard around a hiss. She says, "I can get you a pain-relief potion, if you'd like one." 

"No! No, I'm alright," he insists. "Really, I don't mind the pain. Not that much, at least. It...it keeps me from doing something foolish again." The words are said in a whisper, and Hermione gets the sense he hadn't wanted to admit it. She doesn't respond to his admittance. "What brings you here today? Did you finally grow bored of everyone else?" 

She huffs at his meager attempt to distract her, but lets the topic go anyway. "Hardly," she scoffs. "I just came to make sure you weren't moving around when you aren't fully recovered. 

"So you're leaving now?" 

Hermione tells herself that she's imagining the disappointment in his tone.