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Scars That Never Felt A Wound	By : margaritama Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9002 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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My apologies on the long wait. I've been having a bit of a hard time on parts of this very emotionally draining fic. I'm already onto the next chapter and while I can't promise the next chapter will be up next week, I can promise I shall finish this (I've outlined the entire story). Thank you for reading.

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Seven Years Later

The sun rose on a quiet, cul-de-sac street in the Notting Hill section of Muggle London. The first rays of light filtered through an oversized window, bathing in its light a tidy kitchen decorated in clean, crisp white and neutral wood tones.

Hermione Granger sat at a small round table sipping a mug of Jasmine tea watching the breaking day settle its warm blanket on her face. Goosebumps danced along her skin, and her body shivered slightly in response. Dressed comfortably in a simple, oversized vintage Duran Duran t-shirt and thick socks, she sighed. She loved this time of day, watching the world wake up at the dawn of new day from the comfort of her flat.

In front of her sat a piece of parchment whose words had kept her up most of the night. She glanced at it again, furrowing her brows in contemplation. Upon receiving the missive, she’d been, initially, shocked which quickly turned into confusion. She really wasn’t sure what to make of the note but she knew her orderly world would soon be coming to a massive halt.

She sighed, again, and groaned as she rolled her head trying to ease the tension now settled deep into her neck and shoulders. The last seven years had been quite good. She’d spent two years as a leading healer at St. Mungo’s treating children with pain ailments. In a short amount of time, Hermione had become the leading expert regarding pain treatment. This new found passion quickly led to her experimenting on developing her own special pain potions for her patients. Eventually, thinking she could do more good, she’d left St. Mungo’s for an odd job offer. At the time, much like the parchment sitting on her kitchen table, she was unsure of what to make of it. Her friends asked her to consider it with caution; whereas Ron yelled at her to say no and walk away.

In the end, she approached it as she did everything else, with logic and a clear mind, weighing all the pros and cons. Ultimately, she went to work for Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy at Malfoy Enterprises Worldwide. The position was a dream job. The Malfoy’s were establishing their own apothecary division and needed a first-rate Potion’s Master to head the department. In retrospect, Hermione was thankful for the offer. It not only opened up a world of possibilities, in terms of research and funding, but it also let her be creative and experimental.

She had thrown herself into her work with a fervor that surprised everyone around her. The Malfoys were generous with allowing her to dictate her rules and needs. Her lab was large, spacious and with no less than five assistants. Books, both Wizard and Muggle, were at her disposal – she had crafted several potions leveraging Muggle medicine with successful, and lucrative, results.

And the ingredients were spectacular.

Rare flora from the top of the Himalayans, exotic flowers found on small isles off the coast of Africa, pulverized crystals that were native to the shoreline of Peru; these and more were at her fingertips. Hermione was always flabbergasted at the ingredients; some were not only hard to come by but nearly impossible. Others she had never seen before and had been delighted to discover their magical properties and benefits. It had been a wonderful position that she’d held for nearly five years.

Over that time, she’d developed a strong relationship with the Malfoys. She and Narcissa Malfoy had gotten on back before the final battle. From the moment the older woman arrived at Grimmauld Place, after Lucius Malfoy had turned, she and Hermione had bonded. Neither woman really knew why but there had been an immediate kinship. All Hermione knew was that she had caught Narcissa’s eye that first day and had felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow for the regal blonde witch and her family.

That relationship was then strengthened when Draco was in hospital. Eventually, even Lucius Malfoy had warmed up to her. By the time she’d joined Malfoy Enterprises, he’d taken to calling her Hermione and had made it a point to stop by every week to visit her lab. More often that not, they spoke about life.

She was happy. Life was good. She had a wonderful career, good friends; over the course of seven years she’d become friends with Pansy Parkinson and Theo Nott. Ginny Weasley and Blaise Zabini had married, recently. Harry and Luna were engaged. Neville and Susan Bones had recently welcomed their first baby. Ron and she had tried dating, but after four months it had fizzled. Instead, the handsome red-head focused on his career in Quidditch and played the field, figuratively and literally. It wasn’t until only the previous year that he’d found a girl to settle with – former Slytherin Tracy Davis.

As for Hermione, she had yet to find someone she was interested in dating longer than a few months. She had a very active dating life, in her opinion, but just wasn’t particularly keen on letting any one relationship get too serious right now. While her career was all-consuming, a small part of her hoped and waited for the right someone to stir her soul. If she were honest, she would admit that there was one person who had moved her like no other but that was fantastical thinking and Hermione was too practical for such fanciful notions of wishful romance. Her friends had expressed their concern but she silenced them with a look. In her mind, she was just fine. She dated plenty of handsome wizards and, while not a slag, even had some good sex, on occasion. She didn’t dwell on her friend’s romances. Life had moved on and people settle down. They settle in life. It’s what they were supposed to do – settle.

Life was fine. Just fine. Her focus was to work hard. And she’d earned quite a bit of money; enough to purchase her own flat in Muggle London, away from the madness of the Wizarding world. Her own private haven.

It was a cheery place, her flat. It was the first floor of a three-story building she had purchased but, so far, only renovated the first floor. The other two floors were used for storage purposes. Hermione had fallen in love with the pale blue exterior upon first eyeing it. It was a mess inside but all she could see was the potential of what it could be. Finally, after almost two years, she had her perfect home.

After much frustration and renovation, the final product was a generous one-bedroom ground floor flat. It was sparsely furnished but she’d managed to make it feel warm. It boasted an open and airy sitting room that led to a brick, and private, courtyard. One wall held a built in bookshelf upon which sat her favorite Wizard and Muggle books. Her bedroom walls were painted a serene pale lemon yellow and the antique cherry wood sleigh bed dominated the entire room. Large French doors let in sun and air, and also opened into her courtyard. The small loo was one of her favorite spots in the house with its large tub and Aegean ocean turquoise-colored tile wall, which Narcissa found during a trip to Mykonos and had generously gifted to Hermione, exuding a bright and happy aura. The property was ideally located moments from stylish Muggle shops, trendy restaurants and bars. She Apparated to and from her courtyard garden, and there was even a fireplace on the upper level, should she decide to use a Floo. Of course, Wizarding London was but one tube station away.

Rising from her spot to look out of the large window that breathed in fresh air and sunshine into her open-plan kitchen, she glanced at the parchment once again. The beautiful hardwood floors that ran the span of the flat, covered only by the occasional thick area rug, felt cold under her feet. Looking away, another sigh escaped her lips.

She was content. She was fine. She was happy. Yes, she was fine.

Now, at twenty-seven, she was feeling somewhat restless. It was time for a change. And she was going to embark on a project that she hoped would combine her medical experience and her desire to help people. With support and funding from the Malfoys, Hermione was planning on opening a pain clinic to help all who suffered: Aurors hit with a wayward spell, young children born with magical deficiencies, and even the occasional reformed Death Eater who still felt the side effects of Voldemort’s dark mark. Hermione was grateful for the Malfoy’s help, while not poor; it was an endeavor she’d never be able to do on her own. Their donation was crucial.

Grimacing slightly, she thought back to those dark days in hospital with Draco Malfoy. She had him to thank for putting her on this road. It was his suffering that propelled her to ensure no one ever go through the hell he’d experienced. He didn’t know it, but it was she who recommended looking into a magical prosthesis. She also suggested the Muggle physical therapy to help his atrophied limbs, and did countless hours of research to develop some of the pain potions his doctor had prescribed, in those early years post-hospital. It was the one of the few times in her young life she was genuinely thankful her intelligence and passion could help someone.

Draco Malfoy.

Just his name gave her pause. He was never too far from her thoughts. Truth be told, she wondered about him more often than not. Recalling when he first arrived at Grimmauld Place, she was wary. But he’d kept to himself, proving too trustworthy and resourceful. Blushing, Hermione knew her younger self had been a bit infatuated with that young, handsome Draco Malfoy. Not that he ever knew.

During his time in hospital, he was so angry and afraid. She endured his rage because she couldn’t bear to see the normally self-assured and smug Draco Malfoy so broken. It wasn’t fair he was suffering. She’d helped because she had felt partially responsibly, somewhat guilty and genuinely concerned for the Malfoy family. No one deserved what they were experiencing. She’d cried a lot during that time but she’d also drawn strength she didn’t know she’d possessed. If she had the chance, she would do it all over again; she wouldn’t trade a lonely moment, regret a single tear or turn away from the harsh bitterness Draco wore like armor, keeping everyone who cared for him at bay.

Hermione had asked about Draco once, but Lucius only replied with a vague answer and sad smile. She never asked again. However, she knew from Narcissa that Draco traveled the world. He kept in touch with his parents via frequent letters but he never came home. Other than this bit of information, Hermione didn’t know what had become of Draco Malfoy.

Picking up her cup again, she drank more of the Jasmine tea for strength before glancing again at the parchment resting, innocently, on her kitchen table. Sighing, for what must have been the millionth time, she shook the cobwebs from her mind and rose, leaving the letter where it lay. Still feeling unsure of its content, she chose to move on with her day rather than contemplate how the missive would affect her.

Indeed, life was about to change. The prodigal son was about to return. Draco Malfoy was coming home.
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Scars That Never Felt A Wound