Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters

Author's Note: So this is the repost of Teach Me To Live. Some significant details have been changed, but for the most part it has only been improved. Yes I know Draco's eyes aren't actually blue but that's how I wrote it years ago and that's how it's going to stay. I hope you enjoy the new and improved version. This story is still dedicated to the same person it was before, the advisor from my youth group who died while I was working on it. Thank you

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Somewhere along the road to my last few months at Hogwarts something inside me died. Maybe it was caused by the pressure to be perfect or the feeling that everyone was somehow counting on me. Perhaps it was the tension and fear building up to a war we all instinctively knew could come at any moment. Could be it was the uncertainty we'd all begun to feel about the world to come. At the time I couldn't quite put my finger on what had happened, I only knew that some piece of me was dead and gone. It wasn't until Draco Malfoy walked into my life that I fully understood what had happened to me.

One day I received a note at breakfast requesting a meeting that night. There was no signature, the sender merely asked that I meet them in the Room of Requirement. I don't know what possessed me to go; if I had stopped to think I would have realized that I potentially could have been putting myself in grave danger. As it was I didn't care, I figured it was someone wanting me to do their homework.

All year long Harry and Ron had been too busy with Ginny and Padma to do much and I'd been doing practically all their work. I didn't mind doing theirs, but students from all the houses had gotten wind of the fact. Since they too wanted to spend as much time as they could with their own significant others they figured if they made it worth my while I would do their homework as well. Needless to say they were wrong, and I frequently had to threaten action as Head Girl to make them leave me alone.

So that particular night I went to the Room of Requirement expecting one of the students from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw with another offer I could easily refuse. I paced in front of the door and thought what I was requested to, then entered the room to wait. I found absolutely nothing in the room to tell me anything of use. There was a table with four chairs sitting in the middle of the room and that was it. I waited for fifteen minutes before getting up with a sigh to leave the room and go up to bed. Imagine my surprise when I turned to see Draco Malfoy walk through the door.

I came to an abrupt halt and sputtered in a rather undignified manner for a moment before I could manage to come up with a complete sentence. "Malfoy? What on earth do you want?"

He opened his mouth to respond but someone else stepped into the room behind him and shut the door quietly. "Hello Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I wonder if we could all sit down, it has been a rather long day I'm afraid.

I nodded stupidly and all three of us took a seat. "Professor I wonder if you could tell me what's going on." I said.

A familiar twinkle flashed in the Headmaster's eyes and for the first time in seven years I didn't think I liked that twinkle. "Well you see Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy here has been training for the past year as a spy for our side."

My mouth fell open in what I can only assume must have looked like an excellent impression of a cod fish, I couldn't help it. "Excuse me professor but I can't help but wonder… what in the world has this got to do with me?"

Dumbledore grinned. "You always have been excellent at moving straight to the point Miss Granger. You see, Mr. Malfoy has the perfect opportunity to spy on Voldemort seeing as he has taken over his father's position within the ranks of the Death Eaters. We have decided to at last put him into play. What we need is for you to be a liason between Draco and myself."

Now I was seriously confused. "Pardon me sir, but why can't you and Malfoy just meet directly?"

"Well Mr. Malfoy's supposed feelings towards me are widely known in and out of the school. If we were to meet on a regular basis it would look very suspicious. It would, however, not be at all out of place for me to meet with the head girl rather frequently. So you see, you are an integral part of our plan."

Silence fell and questions ran endlessly through my head. Could I work with Malfoy? I knew I could trust Dumbledore but could Draco really become an ally? Could I handle taking on another responsibility? I didn't have the answers to any of the questions, but I knew that this was my own way to help with the war. It was my chance to truly have an impact, and to maybe a path to getting that missing piece of my soul back. "I'll do it."

The twinkling in the familiar blue eyes came back full force. "Are you sure Miss Granger?"

I nodded. "I'm sure."

"Well good then," He stood abruptly. "Then I'll leave the two of you to work something out."

A second after he had risen he was gone and Malfoy and I were left alone in and incredibly tense silence. I stared down at the table for minutes on end until the weight of his gaze on me forced me to look up. When I raised my head I met impossible icy blue eyes straight on.

"Are we going to stare at each other all night or are we going to get things over with?" he asked.

I turned my head slightly as I regarded him. There had been no malice in his voice, no anger, only polite disinterest. Virtually every emotion I had been on the receiving end of from Draco Malfoy was conspicuously absent and I finally worked up the courage to ask the big question. "Why are you doing all of this?"

He sighed. "How bad do you need to know?"

The tone of voice immediately put my back up. "Considering the fact that you've been nothing but horrid to me for six and a half years and up until five minutes ago I figured you be trying to kill me in a few months, I'd say pretty badly. That compounded with the fact that I could potentially be risking my life doing this makes me knowing pretty essential."

His aristocratic features set into a hard mask. "Fine." He pushed away from the table and stood up, then I fought back a sound of protest as he yanked his shirt over his head and let it drop to the table. "I woke up, and I got tired of this."

"Malfoy…" I didn't know what to say. I'd never seen him without a shirt before, and I couldn't have known about the evidence of all the pain he was hiding beneath his clothes. Even so, I felt my heart crack as he stood before me. What should have been the pale perfection of his body was marred by angry scars; virtually every inch of skin was covered in them. Some looked as if they'd been made by whips, others I could identify as burns, and one actually looked like claws had raked all the way down his chest. One that appeared to wrap around from his back angled across his chest and disappeared into the waistband of the jeans slung low on his hips. I pressed a shaky hand to my stomach as I walked towards him.

"How long?" I asked.

"My entire life."

I crossed behind him and my hands flew to my mouth to muffle to visceral reaction that leapt to my throat. Though I would have thought it impossible his back was even worse. I literally couldn't see any stretch of smooth skin. My hand reached out instinctively to soothe but I pulled away at the last second and moved back around to face him. I picked up his shirt and handed it to him, watched apprehensively as he slipped it back over his head to cover it all up once more.

A tear slipped down my cheek as his gaze returned to mine. "When did it stop?"

"It stopped the day I took this." He turned his left arm over to show me the Dark Mark. "It stopped the day before I started training as a spy."

This time I couldn't check the urge and I reached out to smooth my hand over the mark. One question came unbidden to my mind but I couldn't seem to bring myself to ask.

He must have seen the question in my eyes. "Go ahead and ask."

"Was it horrible, taking the mark?"

He took a shuddering breath. "Worse than you could ever possibly imagine."

"I'm so sorry, I never had any idea. All these years…" As I trailed off I looked down and realized that my hand was still moving back and forth over his arm. I pulled away quickly and hoped that I hadn't turned the color of a tomato. As we stood in silence for a moment I let my mind wander and as I thought back I was suddenly incredibly confused. "You said that the… that it stopped a year ago. You're father has been in Azkaban since the end of our fifth year, so how could it have continued?"

He flashed a haunted smile. "My father has friends in high places Granger, it's a huge mistake to underestimate what the man can have done, even from prison."

"That's… barbaric."

"Maybe it is, but it's how I lived. That's all in the past and I'm trying my best to put it all behind me and do what I have to do now."

I nodded. "I understand, as much as I can anyway."

"We should pick a time to meet each week," he said, changing the subject abruptly.

I appreciated the need to move forward. "Would Monday work?"

He nodded. "That would be fine. A lot of what I'm involved in happens over the weekend so I can let you know sooner that way."

"Okay, I guess I'll see you on Monday." He nodded once again and headed for the door. Just before he opened the door I felt another irresistible compulsion. "Malfoy?"

He turned back into the room for a moment. "Yeah?"

"I never in a million years thought I'd be saying this, but be careful."

The barest of smiles passed his lips and he nodded. "See you on Monday Granger."

That night I lay in bed awake for a long time. Every I time closed my eyes to try and get some rest I was haunted by the image of Draco Malfoy standing in front of me with years of pain reflecting in clear blue eyes. He'd stood their waiting for my rejection, for my horror at the terrible state of his body. But I hadn't felt horrified by the way he looked, I'd been horrified by the horrible things that had been done to him. In all the years I'd known him I never could have imagined what he'd been hiding. It certainly explained a lot.

I tossed and turned as the image of his scarred body flashed in my mind again, unbidden and unwanted. His body should have been perfect to match the strangely handsome aristocratic face. Instead it was a painful reminder of the seventeen some odd ordeal that had been his life.

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't chase him from my head, and the compassion I felt for the man who'd ostensibly been my enemy for nearly seven years worried more than anything ever had. I remembered my compulsion to reach out and touch him and how I'd soothed my hand over the mark on his arm and felt my chest tighten. Worst of all, when he'd stood in front of me baring the secrets he'd kept his entire life, completely exposed, all I wanted to do was kiss every last scar that covered his body until every last trace of pain fled from his eyes, and that terrified me.