Where It Hurts, Where It Heals

Olivia Montgomery's POV 

I make my way to the Black Lake, the air crisp and quiet, and I sit down at the edge of the shore. The water laps lazily against the rocks, and I wrap my arms around my knees, waiting. A soft rustling behind me makes me turn.

"Draco?" I call out, squinting into the trees—but no one's there. Just the wind, maybe.

"Knew you were the bitch," a voice sneers.

My blood runs cold.

Pansy.

She steps out from behind a tree, flanked by Astoria Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode. My stomach knots instantly. This isn't some casual stroll. I can feel it—this is a setup.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say quickly, rising to my feet and brushing off my robes, trying not to show fear.

"Get her!" Pansy snaps.

Millicent lunges at me like a damn troll, pinning me to the ground before I can even reach for my wand. Astoria snatches it from my robes and hurls it away. "What the he—" I gasp, but the rest of the sentence never makes it out because Pansy punches me straight across the face.

Pain explodes across my cheek, and I cry out, trying to squirm away, but Millicent's weight is too much. Pansy keeps swinging, her fists connecting over and over until I hear something—crack. My rib. I scream as white-hot pain sears through my side.

Blood trickles down my forehead as she slams a rock against it. I can barely see. My hands are scraped raw, my torso aching with every breath. "This'll teach you not to touch what isn't yours," Pansy snarls. She spits on my face before standing.

Tears blur my vision. They start walking away, but Pansy turns back. She crouches near me again, her breath hot and bitter.

"If you even breathe in his direction again," she hisses, "I'll make sure he pays. If I can't have him, no one can."

Then she drives her foot into my broken rib, and everything goes black.

I don't know how long I'm out. But the first thing I feel is the drizzle—soft raindrops on my cheek pulling me back into consciousness. I try to sit up, but pain shoots through my body and I collapse again with a cry.

I lie there, helpless for a while, before I finally manage to roll over and push myself up. Every movement is torture, but I have to get help. I stagger toward the bridge, hoping—praying—I'll find someone.

And I do.

Far off, near the entrance to the bridge, I see Fred.

"Fred!" I cry, my voice hoarse, but he hears me. His head snaps in my direction, and he sprints toward me just as my legs give out beneath me again.

"Love," he says, kneeling beside me. I can barely keep my eyes open. "Hey, hey, I've got you."

He scoops me up into his arms and takes off running. My vision sways. I can't tell where we're going—my eyes burn too much to see. My limbs feel heavy, my chest throbs, and then—

Darkness again.

When I wake up, it feels like days have passed. Everything is quiet and clean-smelling. I blink slowly, realizing I'm in the Hospital Wing. Fred and George are seated beside my bed, talking in hushed tones.

"I think you're supposed to let people rest in this wing," I say, my voice raspy as I attempt to sit up—unsuccessfully. "Love!" they say in unison, instantly leaning over me with worry carved into their faces.

"Who did this to you?" Fred demands, his jaw clenched. "Was it Malfoy?" George asks, fists already curling. I shake my head. "He didn't do it. But... he was the reason."

Before they can ask more, Madam Pomfrey bustles over.

"Oh, you're awake!" she says, far too chipper for someone who's listing off injuries.

"That was quite a fall you had. Not one, but three broken ribs, swelling all over, and 18 stitches to the head," she scolds gently, handing me a potion.

I glance sideways at Fred and George.

Great. How the hell do I explain that?

I down the potion quickly, grateful for the numbing wave that washes over me. The pain dulls almost instantly. I manage to get dressed and leave with Fred and George once I'm cleared.

We return to the common room and heads snap toward me the second I step in. Ron bolts to his feet, rushing to hug me, but Fred and George move like a wall in front of me.

"She has a few broken ribs," Fred says sternly. "No hugging," George adds.

I give them a tiny smile. "I'm fine, you guys," I say as I lower myself carefully onto the couch.

Ron frowns. "How did you fall?" I swallow, heart pounding. Hermione's watching me like a hawk. "I... slipped. It was raining," I say, eyes down.

Hermione's glare sharpens. She knows. But she says nothing.

Not yet.

Fred and George don't leave my side once during dinner. Not that I mind. I feel safer with them flanking me like silent bodyguards. But I can feel the stares—her stare. Parkinson glares daggers into my skull from across the room, her long nails tracing slow, possessive circles on Draco's arm.

Draco.

I can't look at him for too long. Not without my chest tightening. I know I have to tell him. Not about what happened—Merlin, no—but that we can't do this anymore. Not while she's threatening his life.

After dinner, the hall slowly empties. Fred and George stay behind, hovering like shadows. I finally turn to them. "I have to talk to Draco," I say quietly, eyes flickering to where he stands laughing with Blaise and Theo.

"Love," Fred says gently, "tell him."

"He'll make sure nothing like this happens again," George adds. "No," I say sharply, almost too fast. "If I go near him again, she'll hurt him. Or worse. I'm not taking that risk. And if I do tell him, he'll kill them."

I don't give them time to argue. I square my shoulders and head toward him.

"Malfoy," I call, and he turns at the sound of my voice.

His grin is instant. "Malfoy? What happened to Draco?" he teases, hands already reaching for my waist.

I flinch. Just slightly. But he feels it.

He notices everything.

I step out of his grasp quickly. "We can't see each other anymore," I say, voice steady. "We weren't official anyway, so..." His brows pull together. "Wait, what?"

"I've realized... I still have feelings for Harry," I lie, forcing the words out. I see the exact moment it lands. I see the fury spark behind his eyes. "You're kidding me, Montgomery," he growls. Before I can move, he shoves me lightly against the wall.

I hiss—can't help it—and his whole expression changes. His hand freezes on my arm. His eyes search mine like he's trying to read everything I'm not saying.

"Get off her, Malfoy," Fred says, voice low and warning as he and George appear beside us. Draco lets go immediately, but he doesn't back away. He just stares at me. Through me. "I know you're lying. And I know something happened. I'll find out, and when I do, they'll pay," he says, jaw clenched so tight it could shatter.

"I'm not lying," I say flatly, turning to Fred while George is nowhere in sight.

"We're almost done with tutoring," I mutter, reaching for something—anything—to make this feel less like heartbreak and more like a clean break. "Should get you through OWLs."

I walk away before he can say another word.

Back in the common room, I rest my head on Fred's chest. He holds me like he knows I'll fall apart if he lets go. "Thank you, Freddie."

"Don't thank me, love," he says softly. George joins us, red-faced and grinning. "Where were you?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. "What?" he asks too innocently. "Angelina," he finally mumbles, cheeks darkening further.

"Ooooh," I drag out, nudging him and giving him something to smile about.

I laugh with them.

On the outside.

Inside, I'm a mess of broken ribs and worse—a broken heart.

How can liking someone hurt this much? How can protecting them be the thing that destroys you? How can breaking up with someone you weren't even officially with tear you apart?

How can protecting someone you love—

No.

No, I don't love him.

...Do I?

It takes everything in me not to run back, throw myself into his arms, and beg him to stay. I drag myself up to my dorm, where Hermione is already sitting on my bed, arms crossed.

I sit down beside her, waiting for the lecture. "Well," she says bluntly. "I know you were lying." I nod. No point pretending. "What really happened?"

I sigh. "When the time is right, I'll tell you."

That's all I say. I lie down, still aching, and close my eyes.

The next few days feel hollow. I go back to my schedule. On the surface, everything looks normal. But the only surprising part is... Draco still helps me. Every morning, without fail, he slips me the DA sheet before breakfast. No words. No eye contact. Just silent understanding.

But it's too much. His absence is too much.

I want to be with him. I want to curl up beside him, bury my fingers in his hair, hum lullabies into his skin, and pretend the world doesn't exist.

I can't take it anymore.

That night, I bolt up in bed, the weight in my chest unbearable. I sneak out, making my way to the Room of Requirement.

Inside, the quiet greets me like an old friend. A piano waits for me.

I sit down, fingers trembling as they hover above the keys. I press down gently, letting the music bleed out of me.

I need this. An escape. From the guilt. The ache. The silence.

From everything.

A few days pass. I'm teaching again in the Room of Requirement, and everything feels... normal. The bruises are gone. No swelling. Just a faint ache where the stitches sit on my scalp—reminders I can cover. I'm okay now. At least, on the surface.

Cho doesn't show up today. We wait a little, but she never comes. I can feel something off, but I shake it off and decide to begin.

"Today we'll be learning how to conjure a Patronus Charm," I say, my voice steady. Luna tilts her head. "What does a Patronus look like?"

"Each one is unique to the witch or wizard who conjures it," Harry explains, his usual calm smile on. "Alright," I say, stepping forward and drawing my wand, "let me show you mine."

I close my eyes.

Expecto Patronum.

I summon the happiest memory I have.

Draco.

He's grabbing my hand and pulling me out of his room, telling me to trust him. We're running up the stairs of the Manor, and he's grinning, a bit out of breath, like a little boy with a secret. He opens this huge black wooden door—and I gasp. It's a balcony, a hidden one, with the most stunning view of the night sky I've ever seen. The stars glitter like diamonds, and the moon hangs low in the sky with the softest curve, glowing against the dark.

It's better than the Astronomy Tower.

I place my hand on the cold iron railing, trying to take it all in, when Draco steps in behind me. His arms sneak around, bracing the railing on either side of me, and I feel his warmth press against my back. His breath hits the shell of my ear and I shiver, goosebumps rising.

"So, what do you think, darling?" he whispers, resting his head on my shoulder and kissing it softly.

I try to speak. "Draco, I have no words. It's absolutely breath—" But he kisses me before I can finish. It's soft, slow, like nothing exists except the two of us. His hands come up to cup my cheeks and he pulls away only when we're both breathless.

We stay like that. Foreheads touching. His eyes—blue-grey, beautiful—locked onto mine.

And he smiles. Really smiles.

The memory fills me up like warmth in the cold. I open my eyes.

A dazzling, silver lioness bursts from my wand. She roars softly and walks around the room, majestic and proud. Gasps echo through the room as she circles us like she owns the space—then settles next to me, calm and graceful.

Even I stare in awe. I've never conjured a full-bodied Patronus before. But now, here she is.

Draco would say, "A lioness for the Gryffindor Queen. Huh. Isn't that fitting?"

"Right," Harry claps his hands together. "Let's get on with it."

Students begin practicing. Harry walks around helping them, while I stand quietly with my Patronus beside me.

The room dims slightly as everyone's Patronuses fade. That's when we hear it.

Thud.

Something slams against the wall. Again. Again. A crack forms. I rush forward just as Harry and Nigel peer through the opening.

And then I hear it.

"I'll make short work of this," Umbridge's voice purrs with venom.

Bombarda Maxima!

Bricks explode from the wall.

I don't think—I act. My wand is up and a shield bursts from it, strong enough to protect everyone in the room. Bricks crash all around, but not one hits us.

Through the dust, we see them. Umbridge. The Inquisitorial Squad. Her smug face like she's already won.

And then—

Draco.

He drags Cho by her robes and throws her in front of us. His eyes scan the room until they find me. They stop. He looks... scared. "Get them," Umbridge snaps. Hands grab us. Rough. I try to fight, but Parkinson grabs me.

"This should be fun," she hisses in my ear, her grip bruising. My breath shortens. My chest tightens. I remember—

The Black Lake. Her fists. The stone.

My body starts trembling.

Draco sees it. I can feel him move. "She's mine, Parkinson," he says through gritted teeth, approaching fast. She chuckles, "Oh, Drakie, don't dirty your pretty hands with this blood traitor. I've got it cov—"

"She. Is. Mine," he growls, jaw locked.

Parkinson scoffs and shoves me into his chest. He catches me instantly, arms firm and protective. I can't breathe for a second—not because of fear now, but because I feel safe.

"Well," Umbridge declares. "You are all free to go... except Potter and Chang." We scatter, moving back to our dorms like shadows. "Olivia," Draco calls from behind me. I freeze.

The others continue on. I wait.

He catches up. His voice is softer now. Worried. "It was Parkinson, wasn't it?" I fold my arms over my chest, look down at the floor. "I don't know what you're talking about." He steps forward, but I back away quickly.

Before he can say more, before I break, I force the words out. "I have to go. Harry's in trouble."

And then I walk away.

Without looking back.

The next day, everything shifts—Umbridge is officially instated as Headmistress. The halls feel heavier, even if just slightly. But the low doesn't last long. After dinner, she summons the entire D.A. to the Great Hall.

She stands front and center, that sugary, fake giggle curling off her lips. "Right, now everyone, take a seat." Chairs scrape against the floor as everyone finds one—everyone but me. I fold my arms. "You can't count, apparently. I don't have a seat."

A few chuckles break out. If I'm getting detention anyway, might as well earn it.

Her smile doesn't waver. "I can, Miss Montgomery." She struts closer. "As Mr. Malfoy informed me, you were the one teaching them the spells. Your detention will be... different. Follow me to my office."

I glance back at the others. Why would Draco help me... and rat me out?

I trail behind her, every step making my stomach twist. We stop outside her office. She unlocks the door, and I freeze. Someone's already sitting at her desk. "I believe you know what to do," she says sweetly to them.

The figure doesn't turn around. "Yes, I reckon I do."

Her heels click away as she shuts the door—and locks it.

I cross my arms, unimpressed. "Well? What am I supposed to do? There's no blood quill, no parchment." The chair spins slowly. "Patience, princess." My breath catches. "Draco."

He smirks. "Sit."

I do, more out of shock than obedience. "What are you doing here?" He stands, rounds the desk, and takes the seat beside me. My eyes follow him, confused and cautious. "Just," he shrugs. "You're gonna tor—" My words get cut off by his mouth on mine. I gasp, then melt. His lips, his scent, his warmth—everything I've missed crashes into me at once.

He pulls back, just enough to look into my eyes. "You really think I'm that messed up?" I whisper, "Thank you."

"So," I ask, heart still racing, "why are you here?"

"I told Umbridge you were the one teaching—not Potter. Suggested you be punished separately. Then volunteered to do it myself. Gave me a perfect excuse to see you, since you've been avoiding me all week."

I swallow hard. "Why would you do that?" He raises a brow. "Would you prefer to be tortured with your friends?" I shake my head quickly. "Exactly."

"But you could've told me," I say quietly. "Warned me about the Squad."

"I agreed to help you, Montgomery. Not them."

Of course.

He leans closer. "I know Parkinson did something." I look away. "I don't—"

"Don't, darling. Don't lie. Not this time." His voice softens, and I hate how easily I break under it. "Can I say something first?" I ask. He nods. "You need to know I did what I did to protect you. And when I tell you who it was, you cannot act on it—"

He starts to protest, but I cut him off. "No, Draco. You won't do anything."

He exhales. "Fine. I won't promise... but fine."

So I tell him. All of it. The lake. The fists. The stone. The threats. I leave nothing out.

His jaw clenches, his fists curl, but then I place my hand over his, and he stills.

"She's a dead woman walking," he growls through gritted teeth.

I shake my head, but before I can scold him, his lips are on mine again—gentle this time. Slow. Tender. And suddenly the ache inside me lessens. The emptiness fades.

Our foreheads touch. He smiles. I smile. We kiss again, and I pull him in by his collar, settling into his lap. I wrap my arms around him, tight, desperate. He hugs me back even tighter, pressing soft kisses against my cheek, my shoulder.

We talk. We kiss. Time passes like a dream.

Then he glances at his watch. "Summon your makeup."

"What?"

"Just do it. Quickly."

"Accio Makeup Bag," I whisper, and it flies in through the window. Only now do I notice how dark it is outside. She really intended to torture us for over five hours.

"Now make it look like I did what she wanted," he says, avoiding my eyes. "What?"

"Please, darling. Of course I wasn't going to actually hurt you."

I step toward him. "I didn't yell at you. Just... the idea that she would even want that for me." I rest my head against his chest. He wraps his arms around me again, stroking my hair. "See? Aren't you glad I'm in the Squad?" he teases, and I chuckle faintly, breathing in his scent like I've been deprived of it for weeks.

I apply purplish bruises across my face, arm, neck. Give myself a black eye. Magically split my lip—bleeding, raw. Draco looks away. "I can't even look at you right now." Then the door clicks.

"Act like you cried," he whispers, then gently pushes me down.

Umbridge steps in, smug as ever. "Ah. Looks like you did better than me, Mr. Malfoy. Well done." She pats his back.

I see it in him—the revulsion. He hates her hands on him. Hates that I have to look like this. That I chose to.

"You may leave," she says.

We exit together.

Only to run straight into Hermione, Harry, and Ron.

I'm standing beside Draco when they see me—really see me. Hermione's eyes widen. Ron's jaw tightens instantly, rage flashing across his face. He looks at Draco, then at me, and lifts his fist.

Before he can throw a punch, I step in front of Draco, hand on Ron's chest.

"Ron, calm down," I say firmly.

"You can't possibly defend him, Liv!" Ron snaps. "You've had it worse than all of us. Look at yourself! He's been torturing you for over six hours—physically!"

Draco doesn't flinch. Arms crossed over his chest, silent. He doesn't even try to defend himself, and I know why. He's waiting for me to do it.

"He's right," Hermione says softly, echoing Ron's anger, her voice tinged with worry. "He didn't touch me," I say, stepping closer to Draco. I can see the confusion in their eyes, the disbelief. "It's just makeup," I add.

All three of them blink at me.

"What?" they say in unison.

"He came up with the idea to keep me separated, so I wouldn't get hurt," I explain. "He made sure of it. Everything you're seeing—" I motion to my face "—was just part of the plan. A way to sell the lie to Umbridge."

They ease slightly, but the tension in their shoulders doesn't vanish completely. Their eyes still say they don't fully trust him. Like they want to believe me, but can't let go of what they think they know about Draco.

Merlin, do they really still see him as some kind of monster?

"I think... apologies are in order?" Draco says dryly, raising a brow at them. "Hell—" Ron starts, but I shoot him a look sharp enough to cut through stone, and he stops.

I know the apologies won't mean anything to Draco. But I also know... it'll mean something to him, somewhere deep down. After what he did for me tonight, he deserves that much.

They all groan and mutter their apologies like they're being forced to swallow poison. To my surprise, Draco doesn't push it. He just nods once.

When they finally walk off, and we're alone, he wraps his arms around me. The second they're out of sight, I feel him press a kiss into my hair.

"Will you go on a date with me?" he murmurs.

I smirk. "Oh, erm..." His hands drop from my waist immediately. "Oh, so you'll fuck me, but you won't go on a date with me?" he says, mock-offended. I burst out laughing. Loud and real. He squints. "Oh," he mutters when he realizes I'm messing with him.

"So," he says again, "will you?"

I grin and nod. "Of course."

But then it hits me. Parkinson.

He must read the change in my face, because he leans in and says quietly, "Don't worry about Parkinson."

"But—" I start, and he cuts me off with his lips on mine. Soft, firm, certain.

When he pulls back, his voice is low. "I said don't worry about it."

"Alright," I say, smiling into his gaze.

"Good," he says brightly. "So... lunch date. You can apparate, right? Let's skip tomorrow's lunch and go to the Muggle world. Somewhere near your house. Just us. Then we'll come back."

I hesitate. A dozen things could go wrong. But then he tilts his head, gives me that look.

Merlin help me—he really is impossible to say no to.

"Okay," I say. "You win."