Next chapter at 250 comments! Dedicated to isgeorgeweasleyhere

HE STARED AT HER, and in turn, she stared back at him. Though they were looking at one another in entirely different ways.

Draco's face was stern; as if challenging her, only Seven had no idea what the challenge was, guilt gnawing at the pit of her stomach. He had unwillingly given her a momentary glimpse into his mind; at the real him.

Believe it or not Seven, — had he meant to sound so condescending?

Not all of us are trying to fight our way to the top, — her mind whirred, bombarded with a thousand questions with not a single answer in sight.

  Some of us are trying to fight our way back down from it, — when Seven thought of the top, she imagined the Dark Lord and his closest inner circle — the Sins, maybe accompanied by a few choice Death Eaters. But 'the top' could mean just about anything to anyone. All she knew for certain, was that once upon a time, maybe before the war — maybe after, Draco had had it all.

Which only made her wonder what exactly it was he had lost? Or maybe he hadn't lost anything at all, only gained — gained something he didn't want... Something like a title.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"All of it." He glared, "Overthinking — looking at me as if you pity me — playing with your hair," His eyes lowered, " — Biting your fucking lip."

At once Seven released her bottom lip from her teeth and loosened the curl from her finger, unaware she was even doing such things. She stared at the floor; suddenly ashamed.

Draco let out a pained sound as he sat up, face contorting as his fresh wounds flexed and tensed. Seven tried not to hear it — tried not to see just how much of his torso was showing — how perfect he was, already far more hot-faced from his previous scolding than she would like to admit.

"What are you doing — " She was beside him at once, trying to forced him back down, " — You should be resting — ," As if by deliberate defiance Draco stood up with one final grunt, towering over her, suddenly eerily certain on his feet.
  Satisfaction twisted his mouth. "Or what Seven? Are you going to make me?" He dipped his head closer to hers, speaking quietly; warm breath fanning the side of her neck. "Because unless you're going to force me down and try tie me to the bed, I suggest you get out my way."

  He shoved past her. She knew exactly what he was doing. Playing with her, stringing her along like a toy. Seeing just how far he could push before she snapped.

  " — This isn't a game Draco!" Seven whispered as loudly as she dared without waking the other patients. "You almost fucking died today! — I thought for a minute..."
  But she couldn't bring herself to finish.

  "I know." He softened with a sigh, pausing at the doorway. Draco no longer seemed angry at her, though Seven doubted that was really the case. She knew better than anyone how quickly his emotions changed. "But lucky for me, you have an affinity for the unforgivables. Now come on, don't make me carry you."

  There he was again, talking in riddles. Sometimes Seven began to doubt whether the things he said were ever really meant to be deciphered at all. "You should really sit back down," She said, following after him nonetheless, "Sounds like you must've hit your head."

  The fine muscles in his back and shoulders flexed and shifted as he walked, seeming borderline inhuman beneath the yellow-cast of the flickering hall lights. Draco looked as though he had been carved from gold; glistening and gorgeous.
  She tried not to stare, really she did. Instead trying to focus her gaze on the small patches of red beginning to blossom through his bandages, though her eyes always found their way back to his skin, his tattoos.

  She would never look at the willow the same way. Despite the noose in the portrait remaining empty, Seven now knew what it really stood for. She knew the body that really hung there, missing though it may be.

  "We both know who cast that curse, Seven." Draco finally said when they reached the doorway of his room. The same man that she sometimes found terrifying, now displayed something akin to trepidation. Standing awkwardly beside the bed, hand resting on the back of his neck, "I just wanted to say thank you."

  Did she make him as nervous as he made her?

  Seven lingered there, not passing the threshold, not wanting to be an intruder any more than she'd already been tonight. "No Draco, I don't. I never know anything,"
  She couldn't help the bitterness that wove itself within her words, months of ignorance coming to the surface, "Because nobody ever tells me anything — and yet somehow I'm still expected to know everything."

  Draco did not react in the way she expected him to, in truth, she did not expect him to react at all. He'd never before seemed phased by her frustrations so why would he start now?
  "Come here." He said; unreadable.

  And of course, she obeyed unblinkingly. A few months ago, the thought of following a man's orders would've amused her, — maybe even stirred a laugh.
  She'd killed men for far less than an order, and yet now, here she was. Ruined.

  She'd become supple; soft bodied and even softer minded. When exactly had she stopped fighting so fiercely?
  She hated herself for it. So much so through the months she'd not allowed herself a second to realise just how far she'd fallen.

  Because she had, undeniably, fallen for Draco.

  She'd fallen.
  She'd fell.
  And now, cursed, to hell.

  And in some sick, masochistic way, Seven had found herself savouring the descent. There was no doubt about it, she'd fallen hopelessly for him that night on the balcony in Greed. The night they'd danced. The night they'd kissed. The night he'd single-handedly torn her heart in two.

  She stared up at him. Face like heaven, eyes like hell. A fiercely fresh cut marring his cheek, carving its way down his face, halting only at the harsh line of his jaw. He looked devastating. Dangerous.

  "What do you want to know?" He said quietly and entirely unlike himself.

  She wanted to pace — to turn away so that she wouldn't have to face the pressing weight of his stare, but she was trapped; transfixed. Unable to look away.

  "Anything." She said at once, "Everything."

  A flash of mirth danced behind his pale irises, "Are you sure you're not originally from Greed?"

  Seven narrowed her eyes at the man, hardly thinking that her thirst for knowledge could be labelled as worthy of a sin. Especially when she'd been so starved for so long.
  "How do I know if the answers you say you'll give will even be the truth?"

  "You won't. I guess you'll just have to trust me."
  — The exact thing he told her never to do.

  Seven breathed a sigh, resigning that this was as good as it was going to get. "Alright then."

  And then they fell silent. Both waiting for the other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Now she'd finally been given the chance to get some answers, she found herself overwhelmed. Possessing infinite questions, but only limited time.

  Her lips moved for her, "Who are you really? Why are you doing this? — Why are you helping me?"

  Draco seemed to think for what, to Seven, felt like years. A vague crease formed between his brows, like a fold in parchment, or the corner of a book page.
  Seven thought idly, her thoughts filling the empty spaces where his words should be. If Draco were a book, he wouldn't just be closed, he'd be locked shut — much like some of the more horrific books Seven had seen in the most forbidden of libraries, the type of books enchanted to snap and bite off fingers.

  Then at last, an answer came.

  "It's probably easier to just show you." He said, turning his back to her so that once again she was face to face with his tattoos. " — You see the willow?"

  "I've seen it..." Seven swallowed, mouth suddenly dry at the thought of the memory behind it. How could something so beautiful also be so... hideous.

  "Touch it."

  "Draco, I've already — ," She tried to interject, not wanting to be faced with his grief again, but he cut her off. " — I know you have. Only this time I'm telling you to."

Seven stared at the willow, with its dead, jutting branches and hollow noose. As she held out her hand to it, it did not come to life in the same way it had before. This time the tree remained contained, it did not grow, and the few leaves it so desperately tried to sprout quickly wilted and fell.

  But when her skin met his with the wicked burn of sparks. Everything changed.

***
QOTD- What do you think Seven will find?