Here's finally another chapter. Poor Draco…. What had happened to him? Warning: some painful memories. My New Year's resolution should be to write more and consistently. Hopefully.

Hermione did not know what she had done wrong to cause him to jump and turn away from her. They had been having just a bit of innocent fun and then…

With frantic movements, Draco shed his shirt and Hermione gasped audibly.

His back was a carving of raised pink scars that formed a tree, with a thick trunk right at the centre of his spine. From there, it moved into an intricate array of branches and leaves, finer and thicker cut lines making it a macabre artwork. As he stood there, his back facing her, the tree seemed to move like in the wind with the smallest movements.

She immediately knew that it was not an intentional piece of body art. While many cultures did participate in scarification rituals, this was a leftover of horrible torture. A cursed wound. One like she used to have, that was now gone and healed thanks to an ointment Neville had sent her a few years ago.

''Draco, why didn't you tell me about this, I had never seen it, I do understand why you were hiding it though. You are very good at glamour charms…''

''Because it is yet another reminder that I am not a good person. That I've made horrible mistakes that I can't fix. When I cover it up, I can forget about it for a moment, but it is always there…''

The tree was mesmerising her. It was a symbol of so much suffering, yet there was a weird beauty about it. Slowly, she stepped closer to him and touched one of the raised pink welts near his shoulder.

''This wasn't done in one sitting; it is too large… how did you survive it?''

''I don't remember exactly how long it took, but I had to survive it. For my parents. To show that I am not weak, despite what she thought…''

Hermione remembered from her research into cursed wounds that it was highly rare to have a living patient as large scale wounds were typically inflicted by a cursed sword or battle axe, so it was safe to assume that if the person lived long enough to seek treatment, it would be a relatively localised wound that could be treated relatively successfully.

Literature suggested that victims of large-scale cursed wounds would either succumb to the inflicted damage or turn insane from the pain endured. Hermione choked down a sob. She had been so upset about her battle scars. But hers were like cat scratches compared to what Draco had ensured.

''Do these scars bleed? Based on the amount and depth it seems like they could….''

''No, not anymore. But it is only because of someone who is so noble and selfless like I could never be.''

She let him talk, and Draco appreciated it. He needed to get this off his shoulders. Well, the scars would never really go away. But she needed to understand why Neville was truly a gem of a man. It had been just around the time that Hermione had set off for the Malfoy properties and his father had started seriously investing into Longbottom's business. Draco had been cordial with the quiet Grffindork, but not really friends. At the time, post war, Draco was hardly friends with anyone.

So it was just another uneventful day where Draco had not yet been literally spat at by a representative of the wizarding general public as Longbottom passed him with a greeting on the Manor's grand staircase. Draco had greeted back, and it would have been, yet another non-event had the gift from his aunt not woken up again.

Draco immediately felt the blood spurt from his skin, soaking his white immaculate dress shirt and running down his spine. Usually this happened when nobody was around so he could call an elf and demand a healer be summoned. But he got lucky this time. He had Longbottom around, who was not a useless yet pricy healer.

The pain was too much for Draco to send the Gryffindork away, so he allowed himself to be hoisted up and dragged along to his room, he barely registered whatever Longbottom was saying amidst the squeals of the house elves that had appeared out of nowhere.

It was still foggy in his mind as he realised that he had been laid on the marble floor of his shower and a gentle stream of water was running over his wounds. Longbottom was speaking to him in a soft voice, but all Draco could remember was how casual the Gryffindork acted despite the fact that his previously pristine light-yellow shirt was smeared in deep red bloodstains. Bloodstains of his enemy. Blood of the man whose aunt had rendered Longbottom senior ill for the rest of his life.

It seemed like forever when Longbottom returned, still wearing the same blood-stained shirt and dragged him out of the shower. The shower part was what all healers would do, it was supposed to help dilute the dark magic eruption in the wounds.

Longbottom kept on chatting calmly while elves arranged Draco's limp body on the bed.

Draco spied something like tubs of something that were getting large amounts of various weeds, finely chopped, added in. But he was too weak to ask. Draco hated the tar and sulphur mix that healers used to close the re-opened cursed wound. It stunk like the devil's swamp and it hurt. But whatever Longbottom was doing looked more like the emptying of a lawnmower as there was no tell-tale stench coming from the large tub.

Eventually Longbottom hummed contently, stirred the large tub again and declared that his experimental treatment was ready. When asked if he was fine with trying it, Draco just nodded.

Soon enough an oily and gooey substance that smelled of cocoa, coconut and grass cuttings was applied to his entire back. It was done…by hand. Not an elvin hand. But Longbottom's own. Draco wondered how the Gryffindork could do so without disgust. But soon enough, the good had been applied, and a massive bandage that covered his entire back was wrapped around him, strong enough to hold but not as tight as the wrappings of an Egyptian mummy at the British museum.

And with that, Longbottom was gone.

The next morning, early and bright the Gryffindork was back with his massive tub of something and grass cuttings. He did not speak much but he worked meticulously and once again a fresh bandage was on. Draco recalled how he'd asked Longbottom how much this treatment cost, but Longbottom only mumbled something about it being an experiment that was hopefully helping. And it did. There was significantly less pain. No puddles of blood to wake up in. No stinging sulphurs. It felt like he was floating on oil. Which was immensely more comfortable than having a healer tear off bandages that had caked onto his back.

So for two weeks, Longbottom would arrive, like clockwork, perform his procedure and leave. Any discussion of payment or any other reimbursement was ignored. Two weeks later Draco could feel normal again. That was twice faster than the usual Healer routine that lasted a month in sulphur hell.

At the end of these two weeks, Longbottom let out a pleased sigh and left him with a tub of the premixed ointment. Even now, years later, a neatly packed gift box of the ointment would appear at his door. Draco knew exactly who had left it there.

''This is an amazing story. I never knew what Neville did, all I had heard through the grapevine was that he had helped develop a potent ointment to treat magical wounds. He sent me that too, but I really didn't know the background…'' Draco could not understand why she was not repulsed by him. By the reminder of his aunt's derangement etched in his back.

''I was lucky to be his guinea pig. He had never accepted any thanks for what he did. Of course, father invested in his company generously, but the fact that his ointment keeps me from endless pain and blood loss at random is priceless. If he were a Slytherin, he would hold it over me forever.''

''Neville is amazing,'' Hermione muttered, and Draco wanted to run as fast as he could because she was caressing his shameful scars with gentleness that he felt he didn't deserve.

''And you are an amazing person too, in your own way. I know that you are still traumatised by the war, so am I. But we are all moving past it. I strongly believe that you have a great potential for being a force for the good, Draco. That what you do can change the magical world for better.''

She could feel the neediness of his magic as her hand touched his skin. It was perhaps wrong of her to feel so attracted to him at this moment of vulnerability, but his pale skin and light build just invited her to.

She knew that she was supposed to soothe him, to tell him that he was just a human and though he had issues, so had she but the feeling of his bare torso under her hands made her feel warm. And flushed.

He had not cast any magic, that much she could feel but she wanted to get lost in the feel of being close to him. Despite the fact that his pale skin was not as perfect as she had always thought. The scars didn't make him less attractive, if anything, it made him even more appealing because of his inner strength. Strength that had allowed him to endure.

His scent was rather intoxicating, so expensive and alluring at the same time. Suddenly Hermione felt like she could rip off his trousers too and just see what all the rumours about his bed expertise were about.

Draco took her hand just as he noticed her hand going for his trouser button. He had wanted this incredible woman for longer than he could put it in words but there was something that loomed over him. It was like a cold tinge running down his back.

Before the whole thing was announced to Hermione they had made a gentlewizards' agreement not to take her to bed fully. Potter, of course Potter, had devised the ''harmless'' spell to bind them to the agreement but the closer her hand got to his part, the more of the rather unpleasant and familiar tinge of dark magic ran over him. There was just no way to say it otherwise – he did not want to be on the receiving end of Potter's anger. And he was not skilled enough to break Potter's spell without the Griffindork noticing.

There was also the chance that Neville would also join Potter in seeking retribution. While Neville was a not a potential dark wizard like Potter, Draco did not want to try his luck. Duelling two angry Gryffindorks was too dangerous.

The much smarter and logical course of action was to abstain for now and live to be married to this amazing witch. Abstaining would be hard. No other woman made him so excited. It was way different than just physical, but on a deep, emotional level. He wanted her to be excited to be married to him, to have him as her husband.

''Darling Hermione, I think we should stop here. I am too overwhelmed with emotion to… to perform. I wouldn't want you to think of me as useless in bed…''

Draco knew that he had to shift the blame to himself. He couldn't tell her that he was afraid of getting into a fight with the two Gryffindorks, she would just be confused and hurt.

It looked like she was about to protest so he leaned in to kiss her. The kiss made him once again wonde8r whether he should just take on these two, but after the wedding, he would be safe. And she would be happy to have him as her husband.

''I also want to show you another secret,'' he whispered, knowing that curiosity would get her focus towards the secret and forget the basilisk in his pants at least for a moment. ''I want to show you something only I and my father know about… I promise it is not so horrible as these scars.''

She still did not step away from him. It was incredibly tempting to just grab her and do all she wanted in his massive bed, but it was important to save her any upset.

''We need to go to London for that. I need to freshen myself up a little too.'' With that, he sauntered off to the bathroom.

Hermione had never experienced such sexual frustration. How did he not understand that she wanted him? That she needed him to please her. It was of course, incredibly selfish of her to want it but she had never felt such temptation. It was no wonder Draco was a favourite with the ladies. The things he was doing to her, just standing there. She couldn't imagine how great it would be if he was doing much more…

''Are you ready to leave, Hermione?'' She was awed at how refreshed he looked. He had even changed his shirt to a crisp dark green polo. Draco Malfoy really looked amazing as a well-dressed modern Muggle. Every item he had was just perfect for him and he wore with such ease as if he had always been wearing Ralph Lauren and not wizard's robes.

It seemed like it was just a blink but they were already out in Muggle London, near King's Cross. Perhaps she had been just too busy admiring the perfect fit of his jeans.

''The traffic is quite bad today, looks like we will be better off getting the Tube,'' he said, and she had to rush after him through the ticket hall. She noticed that quite a few women stared at him with longing. Was she already getting jealous? She had never been jealous before but seeing how the cashier at the ticket window smiled at him made her feel a little bit possessive, so she took his hand and kissed his cheek.

He still held onto her hand as they travelled on the Tube, he knew exactly where they were going, and she was in silent awe. It was natural to assume that Harry or Neville would know more about Muggle life but to see Draco blend in seamlessly was another story. He did not make any silly mistakes, his stepping upon the escalator stairs was smoother than hers, in fact, he caught her when she nearly tumbled down.

She liked the attention he lavished on her, there was not one moment when she felt alone or ignored. Seeing their image flash by on the carriage windows she noticed that they both looked like a lovey dovey couple. He made her feel so comfortable, like she had known him like a close friend and more than a friend. His lively chatting, gentle touches, it was all so wonderful that she did not question him what he wanted in a fancy looking grocery store, it looked like he had a plan on what to do with it all. He didn't elaborate on his plans, but she just liked the lightness of everything. She did not have to worry what to say or do, just admire his new skills of living like a Muggle.

''It's just a little walk to my secret,'' he said cheerfully as he carried his shopping all Muggle style. They were walking through a posh area, lined with villas that were massive with elaborate fences and fancy front gardens. Suddenly he stopped at the gate of one that looked like the biggest on the street. It even had a fountain in the front yard with gold cherubs dancing in the water.

''I hope we're not breaking in,'' she said in a joking tone as Draco was fiddling with some keypad.

''No, unless one can actually break into his own house.''

It was an imposing house, very typical of millionaire Muggles. there was no other house that a Malfoy could choose, she realised. She somehow could not imagine him spending even a few hours in a tower block.

''Hermione, what do you know about the Active Rehabilitation Process, a law that came into power after the war?''

''Not much,'' she admitted, looking at the gleaming marble flooring of the imposing hall.

''Good. Then it will help me to show what I have learned, why I will do all I can to show that I am not the teenage asshole you used to know in school.''

''Your behaviour in school was shaped by many things… but people can change.''

''Exactly. When the Ministry announced this Rehabilitation, it was a way to somehow round up all the Death Eaters and figure out what to do with them, without having to pour the already limited resources into building a prison. Of course, the criminally insane and other highly dangerous ones were shipped off to some remote Scottish island, but the hundreds who were involved but did not pose immediate danger had to be dealt with. So the idea was to rehabilitate people by making them live like a Muggle.''

''Were you scared of that?''

''No, in fact, I was rather relieved. I knew what it was like in prison so I swore that I would rather turn into a real Muggle than rot in a cell somewhere. It meant having to wear a special tracing bracelet and a severely limited wand use, depending on offender category one would have to live like a Muggle for six months to over a year. I and father were told to prepare for Muggle life of at least a year. It started around the time you went away to your field trip.''

''That's why you didn't visit the vacation homes that often?''

''Yes, as we had to avoid the magical world as much as possible, only go there for necessary business. Before you find out from others, let me just say that we… played the system as much as possible. I know it sounds terrible, but you just have to hear me out. Would you like a glass of wine while I tell you the story of woe?''

He perused the wall of wines in the vast kitchen and selected a bottle. The kitchen looked like a set piece of a cooking show, complete with a cooker with 8 hobs and marble double sinks. Perfect for a man who likely didn't know how to cook.

While the wine breathed Draco cut the cheeses he had just got and arranged a small, but elegant cheeseboard. If anyone had told her years ago that Draco Malfoy would be seen in a kitchen, doing things for himself with no elf in sight, she would've laughed herself to death.

''An integral part of the program was that the subjects buy or rent a Muggle home for the duration of their rehabilitation or longer. Some families had lost lots of property during the war so for quite a few renting was the only option to complete the program, like Pansy found out, to her shock and horror that her father and grandfather had frittered away the family fortunes and all the richness was just a façade. She ended up renting a studio so tiny you couldn't swing a cat in Liverpool, but I and father were told that we'd have to expect to live Muggle like for longer than a year. Father looked at all the options, as it had to be somewhere that is purely Muggle, not a remote location, it needed to have neighbours, job opportunities… quite a lot of criteria. You should've seen the face of the Ministry official when we showed him the closing documents on this house, he was outraged.''

''This is a Muggle house, in a Muggle neighbourhood, I don't see a problem here. Of course, it is something that is out of budget for most people.''

''Yes, but it met all the rules outlined. And we got a good price, it had been on the market for long, as it only has five bedrooms so it is a small and cosy house. The Muggle real estate agent was nearly dancing of joy when we made an offer.''

''Wasn't there a… less ostentatious house on offer?'' she asked, jokingly.

''Just think about it – if you had the choice of spending a year in an absolutely foreign world – would you not try to at least have something a little familiar in the surroundings? We were not permitted to buy any country estates and Kensington townhouses were just too claustrophobic. And a little bit of research into Muggle life showed us that rich Muggles had a rather similar life to what we were used to. This house, for example, has absolutely no elves allowed. Even now after I have been given back full wand privileges. We have a cleaning service come in whenever needed. I would go insane if I had to clean this all by myself.''

''You would look sexy in a French maid costume,'' she teased and put her hand on his knee.

''We can talk about costume ideas later, you are trying to distract me, aren't you?''

''What if I am? I have a handsome wizard next to me, in a nice house I've never seen, there's no nosy neighbours…''

''You are trying to distract me,'' he murmured. ''I just need to tell you as much as I can. I feel like the outlier in all your fiancés. You know them so well but you don't know as much about me. So where was I, yes, the programme.''

Living like a Muggle was not enough for the Ministry, the participants also had to find a job a Muggle would do. Lucius Malfoy of course, was no fool and he knew that doing the menial manual labour jobs that many witches and wizards ended up with due to lack of actual Muggle life skills was not what he wanted for himself and his son he found a solution. Company owner and investor was also a job. Not the job of every average Muggle, but still, the Ministry could not quite deny the fact that indeed, it was seen as work and esteemed work at that. While the bureaucrats would have loved to see the Malfoys shovel literal dung or scrub toilets, there was none of that.

Instead, they sat on endless business pitch meetups, later board meetings and no matter how much the assigned case worker griped about, being on the board of a Canary Wharf property developer was indeed, a purely muggle thing to do.

Muggle business worked quite similarly to the magical world, if one had money there were very few questions asked as it was typical of rich muggles to live all over the world in various properties and have businesses that brought them money without the owners going to work every day.

He had hoped to tell her everything in as much detail as he could as he had less appeal than the others. He just knew it. It was getting increasingly hard to talk about the construction material business success as she kept on sitting closer, her hand on his knee becoming more and more suggestive.

He tried to offer more wine, or water and wiggle out of her intoxicating closeness by offering to make lunch and show her his relatively recently acquired cooking skills. But there was no such luck.

''Draco, can you show me your bedroom? This couch isn't too comfortable for what I am planning.''

''I thought I'd show you my marathon medals, you know, the muggle sport I chose to take on. I also have so many interesting items that are needed for it, it is amazing…''

''First, the bedroom. I need to lay down a little and then you can chat my ears off about your sports.''

Draco obliged. There was just no way that he would be saying no to her. He would not go all the way, if he could but it was after all, her choice. He wanted her to be happy with him. He wanted to be wanted by her, no matter what it took.

He led her to his master bedroom that overlooked the garden with floor to ceiling French windows and not in the line of sight of any neighbours even if they ever were home.

''You've been telling me that you've learned so much about being a muggle, so now it's time to show me what you've learned.''

''I can cook an awesome lunch, I have planned a…''

''Kick of your shoes first, handsome.''

He did as asked, taking deep breaths.

''Draco, do you want to marry me?'' she demanded. ''Not because the law is making you do it, but because you think that I am suitable?''

''Hermione, do you even have to ask that? Of course I do! I have been drooling after you for years…''

''Take off your shirt and get on the bed. Be a good boy.''

Draco did as told and climbed onto the bed. He suddenly felt a little vulnerable. He had never taken a woman back to this house, his secret hideaway. But it was right that the first woman would be his soon to be wife.

Back at the manor, Lucius was just reading yet another pile of paperwork from one of his many companies when something made him jump up.

It was not some irregular figures in the accounting reports but use of borderline dangerous magic within the grounds.

Just few minutes ago he had observed Neville discovering some kind of unusual plant in the lawn and wander away. The elves couldn't and wouldn't trigger the wards, so it left only Harry.

The papers could wait, Lucius decided and set out to find the source of the disturbance. He didn't have to walk around for long, young Potter was in plain sight, sending an array of spells and curses at the hay bales stacked next to the Pegasus stables.

''Mr Potter!'' Lucius called out, but there was no response from the young man.

Lucius could feel the frenetic magic in the air, he had been around quite a few powerful wizards when they were upset, and it usually didn't end well.

There was no response or reaction, so Lucius set a hay bale on fire. The shock of the sudden fire made Potter stop for a second and look around.

''Harry, I think you need a drink and a chat,'' Lucius said, extinguishing the hay fire and walking up to the young wizard.

''I was just practicing spells…'' the young man huffed.

''Of course, you did, but I think that I know how you're feeling.'' Lucius knew that it was best not to point out that some of the spells were borderline dark magic and just a few variations away from triggering the Auror intervention at the property. Potter would be able to explain away the situation and there would not be any harm done, but it was best not to have the Ministry involved when possible.

For a moment, Potter hesitated but then lowered his wand. ''Do you have some good scotch?''

Thank you for reading, my lovely readers. What do you think/wish would happen next? Let me know! Happy 2020, may all your goals be reached.