It was late in the night — or early in the morning, depending on how one would look at it — by the time Hermione was done wrapping all the presents, that she happened to fall asleep on top of them once again, forgetting about her problems and issues and opening herself up to her dreams.

It seemed like it was only minutes, however, until she woke up to the bright morning light shining through her windows. Despite not having many worthy hours of sleep, she found herself picking up her flat, hiding the presents, and throwing away the trimmings that were too small to use on any other present. By the time she was finished, she realized she was late for work. This resolution actually made her feel rather relieved, for work was the last thing on her mind. The Ministry always claimed they needed her on the days she didn't come in, but finding herself and fixing a few holes in her life was more important than attending to the needs of the wizarding world. It wasn't as if she was being selfish, she just needed a break from everything, a break to bring her back to being herself — if there was ever a break that could do that.

What she really needed, however, was to think about Draco and how she was going to go about fixing him. Why did I ever agree to do such a preposterous thing? She questioned herself, even though she knew the reasoning. However, no amount of knowing why she agreed, could possibly make her feel any better. Just thinking about Malfoy, and the manor, and the war, made Hermione want to scrub her whole entire body. It wasn't even moments later, that she found herself in the lavatory, scrubbing her arm furiously, hoping it'd take away the dreaded mudblood scar.

She found herself scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing, until the porcelain sink was stained with a few drops of blood, her skin having broken open slightly from the force of her scrubbing. "Dammit," she cursed under her breath, before exiting the bathroom and finding her wand to heal herself. "Episkey," she spoke aloud, as she pointed her wand toward her arm before the cuts healed, leaving nothing behind but the blood stains and the mudblood scar she tried so hard to cover up.

Gripping her wand, she squeezed her eyes closed, before walking over to the sink once more and rinsing off the blood. It seemed as if everything came back in those few moments she stood there washing off her arm, and she found herself gripping the sink, trying to force the memories from her brain. However, she wasn't given much time to pull herself together before there was a knock on her door.

Jumping slighting from her unexpected visitor, she dried her arm off before picking up her wand and walking over to the door. She half expected it to be Narcissa, and she was ready to hex her if it was, not being in the mood to be reprimanded about why she did not yet help Draco. However, when she peeked through the peep hole on her door, she found her wand slipping from her grasp and falling onto the floor with a loud clatter.

"Granger, open the door," a voice slurred, a voice she knew all too well. One that brought back memories and nightmares all at the same time. "I can hear you, I know you're in there."

"What do you want?" She asked the blonde boy through the door, before retrieving her wand, just in case she needed to use it. It was then, she realized, how fast her heart was beating. It wasn't as if she was afraid of him, but then again, it was as if she was afraid of him.

"I want to talk," he muttered, before his foot reached out and kicked the door slightly. "Granger, let me in, it's cold out here."

"The hall is heated, Malfoy, it's not cold. Now, tell me what you want," she demanded, trying to sound brave and irritated, but she couldn't keep her voice from cracking. She was so brave, but when it came to Draco and the past events that happened during the war, she was anything but brave. She knew he had pain, she of all people could see that, and that was what hurt her so much to see him. It was in his eyes, in his demeanor, it was in everything. It was as if that was all he was made of.

"Granger," he slurred, his voice warning her. "You can't keep me out."

"Malfoy," she replied in the same tone, before stepping back and pointing her wand at the door's lock. "Colloportus," she whispered, her hand shaking, her whole body shaking. Why are you so frightened? She wondered to herself, however, just as she knew the reason to why she agreed to helping Draco, she knew the reason as to why she was trembling. She also knew that Draco could still come in if he used alohomora, but it was worth a chance.

"I have no time for your bloody games," he sneered before leaning on the door frame for support, and pointing his wand at the lock. "Alohomora," he breathed, before reaching out and twisting the knob, finding that he had unlocked the door. "Granger, Granger, Granger," he smirked, before opening the door, only to find Hermione standing there, her wand pointed at his throat. "I seem to recall this incident happening in third year," he mumbled, and Hermione could almost see the old Draco from Hogwarts. However, it wasn't quite him, for the Draco that used to have fear when she held her wand against his throat, now showed no sign of fear. Drunk or not.

"I seem to recall that you were trembling that day," she reminded him, trying to stand her ground and not to show that she was trembling at the moment.

"I no longer fear you, Brightest Witch of Our Generation," he smirked. "You're the least of my worries."

"As are you. Now, leave," she told him, her voice more forceful.

"Aren't you going to offer me tea?" He asked with a smile that turned her stomach as his eyes grew darker. He could see the fear in her eyes, and it amused him to see that after all these years, he still had an effect on her.

"No."

"You're going to throw a drunk man out onto the streets?" After asking around for Granger late into the night, he was finally informed where she lived. However, the alcohol was already through him, and he needed some more to bring his bravery back.

"It's not my fault you're drunk," she spat, her facade not as strong as it was only seconds ago. You promised his mother you'd help him, is this what you mean by help? Her conscious warned her, and she found herself at war.

"It wasn't my fault you were a drunk either, all those years, Granger, but I wouldn't have refused you any tea." She could tell in his eyes, that he was already sobering up, but that was not what was bothering her. What was bothering her, was the fact he seemed to have known about her years of being addicted to Firewhisky, it being the only thing that could take away her pain.

"W - what do you mean?" She pretended to be confused, but Draco caught it.  Before she could react, he took a step toward her.

"Expelliarmus!" He shouted, causing her wand to fly from her grasp, and land somewhere behind her. "Well, well, well," he began as he took a step toward her, his wand now at her throat. "Reversed rules. How do you like it?" He sneered, his eyes holding an evil that even she had never seen in him. "Look at you," he snarled as he looked her up and down. "What happened to the Granger that never shut up? The annoying witch? What happened to you, did Weasley dump you?" He inquired, before leaning in closer, his breath fanning heavily over her neck and ear. "I wouldn't blame him if he did."

As he stood there, his body so close to hers, he couldn't help but look down at her arm, the scar still visible. Just looking at it, broke down the walls that he had built up with Firewhisky just to come here. That was a word he hadn't used since his aunt carved it into Granger's flesh, and it was a word he swore to never use again.

Stepping back, he found his thoughts lost, before shaking his head and putting on the dark face he had earlier. "How is life, Granger? Is it grand? Are you and Weasley having a fine time? Or is Potter? See his face still in the papers, still famous. What's it like? Being happy?" He growled, but stopped when he heard Hermione whispering something under her breath.

"No," she kept whispering over and over again, and he finally realized that she was also crying.

"What do you mean, no?" He snapped, trying to hold the strong face, trying not to notice how much pain was in her brown eyes. For, it was that same pain that he himself even knew.

"Life isn't grand, Malfoy, so don't think for one minute you're the only one with pain," she whispered, trying to be brave, trying so hard to pretend.

"Pain? Who said I had pain?" He scoffed, pretending to think the idea was ridiculous, but knowing that she was telling the truth.

"Your eyes did," she muttered, before wiping her own furiously. "Is that why you've come? To taunt and tease me? I thought we were past this," she almost yelled, so exhausted from everything going on.

"No," he replied, before remembering why he was actually there. "And who said we're past this? Just because the war is over, doesn't mean I don't still see you as the same — " he stops mid-sentence, not being able to say it.

"Go ahead," she sighed, sounding as if she had just given up. "Call me a mudblood, it's not as if I'm not already constantly reminded of it!" She half screamed before pulling her sleeve up the whole way and exposing her arm.

"What? You think you're the only one with scars?" Draco half shouted back, before lifting up his sleeve, exposing the Death Eater mark. "You don't think it's painful? To know that people will never look at you the same, they'll only look at you as if you're still that vile person? Do you know what it's like to have such a mark and live with the burden it gives you? Do you know?!" He screamed at her, before realizing there were tears falling down his face too. So much for the many faces.

"Yes," she breathed out, still crying. "Yes, Draco, I do know."

He stopped the scowl he was giving her, and all that was on his face, was the look of vulnerability and tears. It was then, he realized how much her scar had burdened her over the years, and it was then he found himself trying to keep it together, to be strong, to not let Granger see him at his weakest.

His wand was no longer pointed at her throat, but instead was at his side, his knuckles white from gripping it so hard. His eyes were on her, and when he looked into her eyes, it was as if he were staring into his own reflection. He then wondered, if there was something more behind Granger's pain, if there was something else he was missing, for she looked just as broken as he was.

They just stood there for a few moments, staring at each other and wondering what had happened to the other one to make them so painful and broken before Draco couldn't stand it any longer. He knew he had to kill her, he knew it needed to be done to hurt Potter, but he couldn't do it right then and there. Not while she was so vulnerable, not while she stood there, their scars exposed to one another, and not while she was unarmed. It was almost as if a veil of shame washed over him, and he found himself running out of her flat before she could hex him for everything he had done — tonight and throughout the years.

He also found himself running out, so she couldn't watch him break down any further to where she'd finally see him for the coward he really was.

Hermione just stood there after he had left, and cried more. It was as if this whole week had been a joke, and she found herself on the floor, hugging her knees against her chest, as she told herself it was going to be okay. She knew Malfoy wanted something, for why would he show up, and especially why would he be so forceful to come into her flat? She then began to wonder if he came to finish a job he had wanted to do years ago, a job to get rid of all the witches and wizards with no magical backgrounds. The war was over, the wizard world was at peace, but was it really? Surely there were more wizards and witches out there that shared the pain Draco and Hermione shared. And if there were, how many of them had the bitterness he had? The taste for revenge? The scars from the mark?

But then again, it was over, and that meant that people were trying to heal. She had to tell herself this as she sat there in the middle of her living room, she had to convince herself he wasn't there to hurt her. He was only there, because — because —

However, the more she thought of it, the sadder she became. There was no other excuse or reason as to why he visited her, especially with as cold as his heart had become.

What did I ever do to you? She wondered to herself as she tried to stop crying, despite the endless tears and pain.

***
I had an updating schedule for this but I am terrible at keeping them. I get so excited and have to post early oiiiiii

Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter! Dedicated to @momotaaa for being the first to comment on this story. Thank you so much! It means a lot! :)