Show me that you're human, you won't break,
Oh, love your flaws and live for your mistakes,
Beauty's on the surface wearing thin,
Come closer show the marks upon your skin.

— "Human", Gabrielle Aplin.

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Hermione didn't pry.

Curiosity had always been a trait and a subsequent weakness, but she didn't find invading privacy a way to sate it. Her interest would spark whenever someone would talk of a good book, or a riveting debate would occur, although she never went out of her way to get involved with someone she had no business to.

Though now, living with Draco Malfoy, she had to say she felt curiosity prick at her better judgement.

The minute her eyes opened, she realised she'd slept through most of the day. They'd moved yet again, and she was surprised to find him still awake, by the make-shift study, looking very busy. Pulling her tired limbs up off the floor, she tried not to stumble on her way towards him.

"What time is it?" Hermione croaked, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand.

He didn't even spare her a glance, too engrossed with the maps and books open on the desk. His lazy scrawl ran along a page of a leather-bound notebook, and his eyes darted from scroll to scroll. "Late."

She leaned against the curtain, running fingers through her messy hair. She picked a small leaf from her frizzy locks, and stared down at it in disgust. Merlin, she had to take a bath, a shower, anything to get rid of the stickiness she felt. Grabbing her bag, Hermione fished out a change of clothes. A sweater without a shirt to accompany it, and jeans. Her eyes roamed the tent for any signs of a towel she could use.

"Don't you have a towel?"

"Don't you have a wand?"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed defeatedly, massaging her throbbing headache. "Throw me a bone, Malfoy."

"Here. Go fetch." He looked up momentarily, pulling something out from a drawer and throwing it in her general direction. The object sliced through the air, and she unceremoniously caught it in fumbling hands.

Her wand. Oh, just typical of him to take it while she was asleep. She pointed it at him, whispering under her breath and smiling when the swelling began on his arm.

He looked down at it in alarm, quickly recognising the Stinging Hex. "What the fu—" His eyes rose to hers in allegation. "—you bitch."

"It's rude to take other people's things, Ferret."

She walked out of his line of sight and towards the bathroom, clothes and wand in hand, listening to his string of curses as he reversed the spell quickly. There was really no need for the tantrum. It was the nicest of the fantasies she'd had about teaching him a lesson. He should've been thankful.

Drawing the curtain separating the bathroom to the main level to a close, she prayed he'd realise she was occupying it and wouldn't barge in. There was no way to secure her privacy, and even if she did use magic for some sort of wards, he'd cut through them with some sort of suspicion or conspiracy theory.

Hermione dropped her belongings by the sink, perching herself on the edge of the bath. Her thoughts had been revolving around the snarky blond very much recently. It scared her. It was one thing to wonder about the Death Eater who saved you and provided you with rivetting arguments, discrimination and shelter. It was another to constantly think about the reasons for his switching of sides. It wasn't a random thought he decided to act upon. Something had led him to the decision, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was.

There her thoughts went again, spiralling out of control and flying out of her reach before she even got a glance at where they went.

She started to doubt her opinion on him, especially through these last few days. It was a little terrifying, and a little exhilarating, if she were to tell you the truth. Draco Malfoy was always the pompous, rich, mudblood-despising cunt that taunted her for as long as she could remember. Hermione had no idea who this focused, confident and annoyingly witty though similarly spoilt and cunt-ish boy was. Part of her wanted to find out, cut through the layers and figure out who exactly was inhabiting the Malfoy's body.

Once her worn-out clothes dropped to the floor, a rush of cool air hit her bare skin. The water had magically filled up the bath, sensing her presence. She dipped her fingers into the steaming water, revelling in the heat it provided, before performing wandless magic and easily adding enough soap to get jasmine-scented bubbles and foam floating atop the surface. Well aware of how much of a privelege it was to have such a luxury during dire times, Hermione made sure she was to enjoy every second of it.

Climbing over the edge, she slid herself into the bathwater. It welcomed her with slowly enlarging ripples as it shaped and moulded around her. She leaned against a wall, her feet brushing the floor of the pool as her eyes drooped, lulled into serenity with the warmth.

"Oh."

.

.

She'd been in heaven for at least half an hour now.

Hermione's worries seemed to sizzle away as the heat seeped through her skin and the soap rubbed away her scars. Her thoughts were neither here nor there, too enclosed in a fog of peace. She did think of her best friends, however. Harry and Ron and how they must be doing swell on their mission. Merlin. Honestly, how would they survive without her? No. No, Hermione. There was no use being pessimistic. She had to buckle up and deal with the unforeseen circumstances.

Godric, she should have brought a book.

Well, it was as an opportune time as any other to get her thoughts sorted out. She might as well make use of her time alone. She had to figure out her opinion on Draco Malfoy, savior and kidnapper, some time. It was a little fuzzy.

"Granger, are you fucking done yet?" Came a thoroughly annoyed voice from the other side of the curtain.

His sudden intrusion made her jump, her eyes snapping open and her senses all instantly on alert. Her privacy was great while it lasted, that was for sure.

"You must have realised," He started. "The filth you are so desperately trying to scrub off, is in fact—"

"—Fuck off, Malfoy."

"I hate to break it to you, Granger. But the only way to rid yourself of your dirty blood, is to bleed yourself dry."

His words hit her ears, but her mind had become so accustomed to his rants, it disposed of them instantly. She sighed, pulling herself up and out of the aquatic haven into the chilly air. She yanked her wand close, making a towel out of thin air as she was suddenly too cold to think about clothing.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind being the one to do it." He paused, and she could picture that smart-arse smirk settled on his lips. "But I reckon that would take up a lot of my immensely valuable time. However dirty—"

Hermione rolled her eyes at his slow drawl, too distracted by his words to think about attire. He'd interrupted the first moment of real peace she'd had in years, insulted her blood and heritage, and suggested suicide techniques. Her nerves had thoroughly been stomped on. Without registering a logical thought, she padded over to the curtain separating them, and yanked it to the side in her hissy fit.

He was leaning against the tent wall, lips parted to form sentences, when the sight of her knocked him out for six. Wide eyes roamed down the Gryffindor's scantily clad body: a towel much too small to be deserving off the title, held in place by small fisted hands with fingers bitten down to the quick and wrapped around her middle, barely covered her from just below her shoulder blades, to mid-thigh. Draco's mind blanked, his sense of awareness plummeting and his pupils tried to fathom what was before him. He had to close his mouth, for it had become suddenly dry with all the gawking.

"I'm getting quite sick of this routine, Malfoy." Hermione spat, solely focused on her anger.

It was quite hard, to say the least, to focus on what she was saying when a feeble excuse for a towel was all she wore. He blinked, hoping he had imagined the sinful sight, but when his eyes reopened, the brunette was still seething at him, water dripping on the floor, damp hair sticking to her exposed neck and collarbone, droplets of moisture pebbling her 'dirty' skin. Her legs were bare, scratched up and the bruises slowly disappearing. The scratches and cuts on her arms were healing too, but they were very much visible across her fair skin.

Battle scars.

"Well, say something then." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was prone to sharp retorts, and why he wasn't spewing them out like a second nature perplexed her. Her lips twitched up in a cold smile as she tried to understand this behaviour. "Malfoy, shocked into silence? Alert the Daily Prophet."

A drop of water trickled down her neck, over her clavicle, dipping into the gap hidden beneath her towel.

She followed his gaze, and the second it clicked in her head, all the heat left in her body seemed to rush to her skin, painting it a deep red.

"I—I—" Her widened eyes rose to meet his amused ones, and his softened unnaturally once he'd for some reason noticed the sudden glazing of them. "—Christ, Malfoy—stop—you, you pervert."

He almost laughed at her; he wasn't the one standing there dripping wet in a cloth. What did she expect, for him to cover his eyes and turn around? He wasn't a shy bloke, and he certainly was not one to give up a view.

"I'm merely spectating what you've put on show." The words came tumbling out, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth from being trapped for so long.

"You're utterly disgusting." Hermione bit out, searching for wand, but at the same time clutching to her towel tightly, making it quite hard to do any real searching.

"Oh save it." He smirked, having far too much fun to stop now. "I've finally discovered why Pothead and Weasel follow you around like lost dogs; spare me the innocent act, will you?"

"How dare you." Her breaths came out in rough pants through clenched teeth. Her heart raced uncharacteristically, probably from fear rather than his intense gaze.

Draco stepped up a stair, mind whirling with the scent she seemed to ooze invading his senses. And he hated it. He hated that the mere sight of her almost naked had him dumbstruck and witless, when he'd seen more than enough naked girls to last him a while. He fucking hated her.

"No, how dare you." Another step. "You must be pretty fucking delusional if you think I would look at a mudblood twice." His eyes slid down her body slowly, deliberately —his mind memorising everything in sight with a sort of hunger that scared him— and a forced scowl adopted his lips. "Even if she is practically naked and begging for attention."

Her retort was somewhat a choke caught in her throat, so she stared at him numbly. The words didn't bounce off her as she'd expected. No. She absorbed every syllable, and every one was a prick at her exposed skin. She was at her most vulnerable and he decided to take advantage. How typically Malfoy.

But then he stepped onto the final step, reaching his height and looming above her. His wand was swiftly taken out from a hidden pocket within his robes, and in a flash, she was fully dressed in the clothes she'd intended on wearing after her wash. She looked down in disbelief. The tip of the wand only came closer however, until it was still hot with energy under her chin, tilting it up until their eyes locked.

"Chin up." He murmured, his voice as cold as ever, his wand pressing into her skin. "Acceptance is the first stage in coming to terms with your worth." Draco dipped his head just a little lower, lips millimeters away from her ear as he spoke. "Which, we both know, is pretty fucking miniscule."

The second he'd walked past her, his back to her steely gaze, she whipped out her wand, hurling a paralysing curse towards his body. She shook off the unmentionable shivers when he'd breathed against her cool skin, narrowing all her focus onto the task at hand. The bright curse flew right at him, but the blasted reflexes of a Seeker saved him as he ducked just in time, missing it by inches.

He turned towards her, armed with a wand, slow, deliberate, predatory.

The grip on her wand was tight enough to make her fist shake. But shaking would not do. Not when she had to come across as undeniably dangerous at the moment. Her eyes glazed over red as she looked him over; eyes narrowed, lips fixed in a sneer.

Malfoy caught her eyes and didn't let go.

One—two—four seconds their eyes held, an unspoken, undeniable challenge passing in the space between them as they stood each other off.

"I win," Hermione began her preposition, trying her very best not to stutter. "You apologise, and promise to never address me as anything but your equal, if not superior."

His lips curled in a smirk at the strong words of a Gryffindor girl belonging in Slytherin. "When I win, you shut that little mouth of yours whenever I'm in an hundred mile radius, until one of us dies."

"A tad morbid, don't you think." She murmured distantly, mind reeling as she figured out what techniques she would have to pull out of the bag.

"Better morbid than pure fantasy." He stated calmly, referring to her ridiculous terms. "Besides, I think it's rather generous of me, since the odds are so very much in my favour."

Four—no five seconds of stand-off.

She was the first to burst into action, hurtling a curse in his direction. He blocked it swiftly, advancing on with a hex missing her with a tilt of her body. Hermione didn't get a chance to be impressed by his aim, as she was already sending a hex his way, trying to find a shield of some sort. Deciding to break into a sprint purely to catch him off guard, she found her plan worked.

Finding an opening while he was still trying to follow her with his seeking eyes, she ducked behind his desk.

Something in her was alight with life, and she knew this wasn't a real fight-to-the-death. It felt like a game. As Hermione crouched there, half panting, half smiling, she realised she was exhilarated. Her heart was beating frantically fast and her blood was hot in her veins. He managed to keep up intellectual banter with her, but she didn't expect a challenge when it came to spells.

"Hiding, Granger?"

"Giving you an escape, actually." She called back, the corners of her lips twitching up as she heard a soft chuckle, quite and so genuine that she had to poke her head up to see it for herself. Eyes searched for the blond twonk, but she only saw emptiness, and when she had turned her attention away from the rest of the tent, back to her view of the makeshift study, her heart almost stopped.

He was right in front of her, crouched and smirking that God-awful, attractive smirk, wand at the ready. He braced a hand on the wood of the desk next to her head, and leaned in slightly, when her logic awoke and she had her wand to his throat in seconds, stopping him short.

They were inches away, knees almost brushing, breaths mingling as they panted with the adrenaline, wands aimed at each others' necks.

Her eyes found his, and it wasn't the exercise that had her heart beating erratically now, no. It was something much deeper, much too scary to address and all too easy to ignore. Admittedly, it was difficult, with his gaze focused and deathly intense.

Her wand flew out of her hand, skidding across the floor.

The Gryffindor's jaw dropped in utter disbelief. He didn't even utter a word, let alone a spell to carry out that enchantment. She was grasping at her, but much too surprised to reposition her fingers, she merely blinked at him, angry and jealous and curious all at once.

"Your move." Draco whispered, the tip of his wand grazing her jaw so tentatively, a shiver trickled down her spine, settling at the base where her nerves bundled up.

Hermione gnawed at her bottom lip, casting her eyes away to find the words. "How—did you do that?"

He raised an eyebrow. After a moment of thinking it over, he decided she was in fact the one without knowledge at the moment, running his wand across her jaw. Her toes curled instinctively at the light action, and he wasn't even touching her. He knew she was questioning his wandless magic earlier, and it was a goddamn accomplishment to know something Hermione Granger didn't.

The corner of his lips twitched up into a victorious smirk. "The Brightest Witch of Her Age doesn't know a measly wandless spell?"

A hot blush blossomed in her cheeks, and eyes cast downwards in slight shame.

He cocked his head, studying her. It seemed as if he'd just yanked her off her high horse, and nothing could make him more smug. A dozen insults and mocking comments sprouted in his head at this glorious moment, but the only words he heard himself say were, "You learn a thing or two when you're surrounded by masters of the dark arts."

Unable to endure himself after uttering that, he pushed himself up to his feet, stalking away from her.

"Malfoy—" She began, lifting herself up and treading towards him.

"—Not a word, Granger." He interrupted, furious once again. How could he have gotten so close to her. Close enough to touch. She was driving him crazy, and he wasn't going to stand for any of her manipulation bollocks. Hermione glared at him sharply, lips fixed into a scowl that screamed a challenge. He smirked, not because he wanted to piss her off, though that was a bonus, but because he rather liked seeing her angry. "You remember the terms. You keep that gob shut until I get stupid enough to let you speak again."

Her middle finger flew up in response.

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I don't think I can apologise enough for being practically dead for the last three months. I don't have a real excuse, and I'm not going to waste your time with one because I can spend that time writing more for you bloody brilliant readers - I can't believe you haven't given up on me, and I am forever grateful. I adore you people, and I am beyond guilty for keeping you waiting so long for a chapter that doesn't even have smut in it! Please search deep in those wonderfully large hearts and try to forgive me?

Review, that is, if you still remember me or this story.

Always,
- LiveLoveLaugh.