Worth Your Time of Day (dramione)

6- Quidditch Training

Hermione made her way to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror.

Every time she blinked she could see it clearer every time.

The image was imprinted in her head.

It looked deformed. It was bruised, colours of yellow and purple, a long pink slash went from the top to the bottom, she didn't know where it ended since his sleeve was covering the rest up.

It looked like pain.

She looked down to her hands that rested on the sink and stared at her left arm. She pulled up her sleeve and looked at it. Mudblood, it read. Her own arm, her own flesh, branded with the slur she'd been called her whole life. She was studying each line and turn of the letters carefully, tears formed. Ugly, she thought of herself over and over again.

A cold hand suddenly gripped over the letters tightly, around her arm. She didn't look up, she studied his fingers, his rings, his knuckles. Small cuts were sprinkled on them.

He grabbed her jaw softly and forced her head up to him. Brown met grey.

"Looks painful," He said softly. He looked down on her. "I should know, I was there after all." He whispered dangerously.

"Yours looks worse," She spat. "-way worse." She tried to break free from him but his grip on her jaw and arm tightened. He pushed her back slowly on the wall.

"Disgusted, weren't you?" He said coldly, staring into her with his eyes that were destined to hold her soul.

"No." She whispered.

"Horrified? Afraid? Is that why you ran to the bathroom, away from me? You coward." He said, his anger building up with each word, and his grip tighter.

She stayed silent. He clenched his teeth in anger.

"I-I just thought,-" His grip softened a little, like it was her reward for answering, she was angry at that.

"Thought what?" He spat, grip tightening again, pushing her harder into the wall.

"How could someone do that to themselves?" She said sadly.

"Don't dare say it in that tone, like you pity me, like you're-" But he stopped as soon as he felt the cold air of the bathroom sting his left arm. She grabbed his arm roughly and pulled up his sleeve with her free arm. She caught him by surprise.

Draco was shocked.

"I pushed you into the glass, and I opened the big slash?" Hermione asked guiltily. She looked up from the mark and he nodded. She turned her head back to his left arm.

Hermione saw all of it, she was horrified. Draco softened his grip on her arm and she pulled free slowly, both her arms carrying his left. His grip from her jaw moved down towards her lower neck, resting there. Draco watched with her.

She had traced the middle slash, the biggest out of all of them, that went down from the top to the bottom. That was the most recent one he'd done. It was red, threatening to burst and bleed everywhere any day now. He was resisting the urge to just rip it open, and bleed. But he controlled himself.

Her pointer finger started at the top of the cut, and went down slowly, it hurt, like he was re-living what he'd done to himself. He rested his free hand on the wall next to her head and rested his forehead between her neck and shoulder, lips near her collar bone. Every time she had traced over somewhere painful, the grip on her neck tightened slightly and would soften when the pain passed.

Hermione reached the end, which faded out a little past the mark, and he pushed his head from the crook of her neck.

He looked into her eyes, the ones that would always hold his broken heart.