Chapter Twelve
The pools of chestnut brown that she calls eyes are enticing and pull me closer to her.
"I know I'm right on this. Do you understand?" I place my hands on her arms and she breathes out. Her breath is sweet, inviting, but I can't focus on that.
A few days ago, if I had been asked who is more important to me: my family or this bushy haired witch? I'd have said my family straight away...but now ...now everything is muddled. I don't know why, I don't particularly like it, and I really don't have the time nor the energy to figure it all out. Especially right now.
Hermione gives a begrudging nod, "Yes. I have noted some..things. And, I will agree to not make things worse." A small smirk plays on my face.
"But," she continues, "that does not mean that I trust you." She backs away, and I suddenly feel colder somehow, that small, confident smile gone.
"It simply means I will not make things worse for myself. Do you understand that?" She squares her shoulders and I think I see her glance down for just a second at my bare chest.
"Fine." I back away and pick up my pants off of the floor. "I'm going to change, you can go to bed when you're ready." I motion to my queen sized bed with the fresh linens I just put on it, and her mouth falls open.
"I am not sleeping in your bed, Malfoy!" Hermione bursts. "You're disgusting for even thinking so!"
"It's either that or you go back to the dungeon and sleep on the floor!" I'm too tired to continue arguing, and I will admit that I'm more than slightly frustrated that she still can't trust me.
She's been locked in your dungeon for almost two weeks! She has a right to be upset!
My thoughts shout back at me, but the exhaustion of my body takes over and I ignore them.
I take leave to the bathroom behind me without a backward glance. I can feel Hermione's eyes shooting wordless daggers into the back of my head until I close the door behind me. When I hear the lock click behind me, I let my towel drop and maneuver my way into my sweat pants. When they're on I go to the sink, take a deep breath and examine my reflection.
My eyes have deep purple bags underneath them, and I'm paler than usual. The feather blonde hair I usually keep pristine is a wet, tangled mess. It's hard to imagine that only a few years ago Voldemort was only whispered about, and my family was whole...
I was whole...
I rub my eyes and try to smooth back my hair with my hands. I was planning on staying on the couch while Hermione slept in the bed, but I guess I didn't make that clear enough.
I'll just tell her she can sleep there if she wants.
I don't feel comfortable bringing her back down to the dungeon and making her sleep shackled up...especially with all of her injuries. I stiffen at the thought of those horrible purple blotches ruining her almost perfect porcelain skin, and it takes me a moment to relax. I'm finally able to take a deep sigh and do a quick mental prep for the inevitable argument that lay ahead. I straighten up and turn to open the door. When I enter the room, however, I'm met with a surprising sight:
Hermione no longer sits in the chair, the plate of half eaten food is now clean, and the fire is almost out. I look to the door and even though it seems like it hasn't been opened. I almost make a dash for it, though, certain that the clever witch had found a way out. But, I'm stopped by a sound of rustling linen, and instead face the bed.
A Hermione sized lump lays almost completely in the middle, covered in blankets. I silently walk over, and am filled with a sort of delight in finding that she is fast asleep. I want to do a small dance at winning an argument against the 'brightest witch of our age,' but I resist the temptation, and instead find my way back to the chair she was sitting in earlier. My plate of food still sits there, untouched. I take a few bites and stare at the fire until my eyes close, and I'm transported into an effortless sleep.
It feels like only minutes, however, until I'm awoken by someone crying loudly. The night's events come flooding back and I'm on my feet with my wand in my hand before I'm completely aware of my surroundings. It's takes a moment, but I do eventually realize that the sobbing is coming from my bed.
"Hermione?" I say as I quickly reach the edge of the pillow top. "What happened?" with my senses relaxing, my body becomes tired with lack of sleep, and I slow my movements.
She cries with such force that I'm shocked that she is still in a deep sleep. I consider waking her, but when I put a hand on her shoulder, her sobs decrease slightly.
"You're going to hate me after this."
She already hates me...
The voice whispers in my head, but I ignore it, and crawl into my bed, and curl my body around hers. She instantly quiets down, but instead of removing myself, I stay.
Having her here, next to me, sleeping so intently, it's comforting on a level I never knew existed. I stay out of selfishness, but holding her like this...it's addicting.
My breathing slows, and exhaustion finally takes over my body; so even if I wanted to move, I couldn't. I lay my head against her back, and I hear her heartbeat. It's this rhythm, this soft chorus of her life source that makes me finally nod off into the best dream I've ever had.
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