Good night was worth its weight in gold, anyone is ready to give a year of life for it. In addition, confidence that you will live at least a month, was frighteningly dubious. He needs to defuse, and the forces were too little - a paradox. It remains only to lie on the floor, arms outstretched to the side. Someone can think that this is a damn uncomfortable place to rest. But he forgot what a dream looks like. It was a mythical character who never wanted to communicate with him.
The moon lit up his face, as if cheering and making it clear that he was not alone. The light of the night replaced the sun, which the magical world had not seen for a long time. Get it lost and there will be no desire in people to raise their eyes to the sky. He was obviously not indifferent to the moon. Well, he loved it.
It was cold on the floor, the back rested against a hard stone. A sobering sensation, he liked it. He thinks about Granger in a room where she also lies soullessly. He was sure she was sleeping. He tried to listen to the silence below, wanting to give to insomnia a new victim, as well as all those who are thousands of kilometers away. It only fair.
Dead silence falls on the house and then he heard the rustling. Hence, it is not he alone who is struggling with the damned wakefulness, a corner of his lips involuntarily twitching in a smile.
Malfoy abruptly rose to his feet and walked barefoot on the cold floor to the end of the room and back, his feet felt chilling delight. Going downstairs meant giving out his presence. He wanted Granger to feel lonely, abandoned, thrown away, unnecessary. Perhaps this will help to knock her off balance, then she will speak. But then he will achieve his goals, open her as a tin can, shake out the contents and finish it. As the lady asks. Breathtaking helpfulness. The plan was excellent, he had always dreamed about it from the first year of school.
The fact that Mudblood is in his house, did not give him rest. She should have been dead for a long time and rotting peacefully with her family, as the whole magical world thinks, as the Lord thinks. To leave her alive in his apartment as to commit suicide. If Voldemort finds out ... Draco briefly introduced his enraged face, his eyes throwing lightning bolts, this made him exult. But then the picture was replaced by its own dead face with the silent eyes of the dead man. But death was clearly not in his plans. Not today.
The girl woke up from piercing pain, apparently when she fell and cracked her head so badly. Exactly as she wanted, sly revenge. It is a pity that the head is not split, but it hurts as if in reverse. She tried to move, a terrible chill gripped her body. It was unpleasant to lie on the floor, the squeak of rats came from the underground, it seemed that they could find their dinner in the form of her, so ridiculously lying and tied to a chair. It seems that someone touched the finger, she screamed and tried to crawl away.
"You're so pathetic, Granger ..." anything, but she doesn't expect self-criticism from herself. Reprimand cannot help her at all.
The door opened reluctantly. He listened to what was happening on the other side, a female voice came to him.
Kooky Granger is already more interesting. A mockery appeared on his face.
After opening the door, he hesitated for a few seconds, enter or not. The rational mind asked him to return back, but the Mudblood, lying on the floor helplessly, was visible in the open door. Curiosity got the better of him and, clutching at the collar of his shirt, literally dragged him into the room against his will.
"Will you introduce me to your friend, crazy?" - He looked around the room: he liked the girl who was lying on the floor definitely more than the version of their last meeting. Malfoy took a couple of steps to pick her up and he met the rat eyes, which grinded and didn't want to give up the dinner. Bare feet stood in something viscous, he could swear it was ...
"Bloody hell, Granger!" - the guy reluctantly picked up a chair and began to peer into her bandage, hoping to burn her eyes through the black fabric. It seems, the girl chose a tactic that only she understood - stupid silence. His eyes slid over her pale face, her body, until his eyes caught on the bloodstains that disfigured an already tasteless beige dress. Only the blind could not notice the source of the hemorrhage: an open fracture of the arm simply shouted about itself.
What was in her head, even if she lost her freedom of action, that she could do this with her body. Thoughts, like a pendulum, swayed back and forth, taking with them a picture of what was happening and, stopping abruptly, hit him in the head. He just got into a mudblood poison. Even being in his own home, he again felt this smell. The abomination that so carefully washes away every night. The blond slowly turned his gaze to his legs, his face twisted in a grimace of utter disgust.
"You're fucking bitch" - spits it in the face, hoping that every word will burn as hot metal. He would gladly break her bone by bone every time, but not today. Asshole benefactor.
The room has a smell, her smell. He wanted to get back. He cursed himself for coming down here. Three times. In a minute. To treat her was the very hemorrhoids idea that had ever occurred to him. The guy put a lot of effort to take her wrist with his fingertips, barely touching. Assuring himself: it's easier to kiss a dementor. Passionately. For one hour.
He studied the wound, and the wand did all the work for him.
"Ferula," spat one word with great difficulty, it seems, it lasted forever. He quickly removed his fingers from her hand, as if he had got burned by a hot candle. He himself did not understand how he was five steps away from her, but he did not look away.
/
Hermione promised herself to close her mouth, no matter how provoked he was. When the sensation of cold fingers pierced stronger than pain, the burning skin felt a certain saving balm in this touch. Why did he come to her now rightful habitat? And what would happen if he didn't come? I do not need anything from him, go to hell! Thought storm. She tried to shut them up just as she could shut herself up, for several minutes now, while the guy was next to her.
What for? Want to help? Of course, wait, Granger. Now he will cure your hand so that you do not mess with the cleaned parquet, and then throw back to the rats. She felt that the unwelcome guest had departed, and lowered her head again, touching her chest with her chin. She still felt his fingers on her skin, it's still fresh in the memory. She was bursting with renewed anger, but not a single word while he was here. Scum-Malfoy.
