Aug 18 1612 (Saturday)

The truth hit him like a tsunami splashing on the shore. His grey eyes darted from the note on the floor to the sleeping witch who didn't have a hint of how overwhelmed by the surprise and guilt he was. A loose strand of brown curly hair fell to her face as she shifted languidly in her dream. Once he'd known the truth, he could no longer see her in the same way. Everything seemed implausible to him, he'd love to believe that he's over-analyzing, however, the word etched in her forearm had derived his certainty of the matter.

After Scourgifying himself and changing into his nightshirt, with his palm on his sweaty forehead, he sank into the couch and groaned inwardly as he rewound to the conversation they'd had in Hogsmeade. As of now, he could understand what she meant and why she'd emphasized that he wouldn't be able to help her. Her home was far, far away—it's about 400 years away; she wished to go home but didn't know how—she didn't know how to go back to their own timeline. This was the reason why she'd been reading tons of books about time-travel. The witch who's sharing the same room with him was just like him, she was trapped, and she didn't belong here. He should feel blessed to have met another time-traveller from his time despite the slim chance. It's more efficient to have two people solving the problem. However, why? Why she couldn't be others? Why she had to be Hermione Granger?

How should he face her when she's awake? Should he tell her that he's Draco Malfoy? No, he firmly told himself. Here was the chance Merlin had granted him to redeem himself from guilt. The chance would be ripped away once she learnt he's the man who'd made her life miserable for seven years, the man who'd refused to help when she's in a life-threatening situation because he's too selfish and coward to step forward to protect anyone. Draco wouldn't let go. He'd had enough of her haunting him in his sleep with her unnerving, miserable screams.

However, the downside was if she thought he's just another man from the past, she'd leave him one day to continue her research, to find her way back to the future on her own. The probability of meeting each other was too low if they separated again. If either of them came up with a method to go home, the other would still be stuck until they found the solution by themselves. He knew that sticking together was the best option for them both, but how? How to make her stay without telling her his real identity?

Mirth was shown on his face as an idea drove into his head. Opening his leather suitcase beside the door, he grabbed the magic books out and without checking the titles, he randomly selected one to read. He just needed to put on an act around her.

Finally, Hermione's eye had fluttered open after a long nap before she slowly switched into a sitting position. Placing his book on the table graciously, he approached her with another glass of water which had become empty in mere seconds. Draco shifted her pillow to lean against the wooden headboard before giving a push in her shoulder, leading her to rest her back against the soft, puffy material.

He sat on the edge of the bed and observed her. Uncertainty and disquiet were shown in her wavering eyes. When his hand slithered onto the back of her hand, her shoulders stiffened but she didn't reject him. Her hands were still cold, even though she'd been wrapped around by a cloak and a blanket for hours. His determined, concerned eyes pierced into the wall she'd built up around her. He finally spoke.

"Hello?" he greeted quietly.

"Hi," she whispered in a voice that's barely louder than a breath.

"I'll get you some food, okay?"

She bit her lip and nodded. Draco let go of her hand and left the room. When he was back to the room with two bowls of corn potage soup and some bread from the kitchen, the witch had her face buried in her knees which were covered by the blanket. He could hear her muffled sniffs and the occasional hiccups—she finally broke down. Placing the tray of food carefully on the bedside table, he sat on the edge of the bed, facing her, before he laid his hand on the small of her back. The sniffs turned into sobs once his hand started rubbing and patting her bare back. They didn't scare him away. He perceived she needed a good cry to release her over-flooded grief and stress. Although she didn't tell him what'd happened to her in the castle, he had guessed most parts of it by the state of her clothing and her wound when he'd found her. She'd gone through the humiliating inspection of witches' mark.

"It's okay... It's okay..." he murmured as his hand continued its soothing work.

Sobs became cries. Her emotions burst out as the invisible wall around her shattered as if water gushed out of a broken pipe. As he pulled her closer, she lifted her head from her knees and leaned it against his chest. Draco bent down and saw streams of tears trailed along her cheeks until they fell to the already damped blanket. This was the first time he saw Hermione Granger cried. Back to the days at Hogwarts, he'd wished to see her break down and cry, he'd thought it would make him feel better since she'd deserved it for being a frustrating, insufferable know-it-all, for beating him in almost everything as a Muggle-born. However, not a slight happiness had he received when the desirable scene had been brought to his eyes. Her watery, swollen eyes sent a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as a wave of protectiveness was aroused in his heart.

His free hand touched her moist cheek tentatively, his thumb interrupted the cascading movement of the salty liquid and wiped the wetness away. Her gloomy eyes displayed a hint of surprise at his behaviour, causing him to realize what he'd just done. Awkwardly pulling his hand away from her face, he buried her face into his chest, avoiding her questioning gaze. The evidence of her sorrow along with the warmth of her body seeped through his silk shirt. Her tears were like fire, they burnt a hole in his flesh and tingled his sinking heart.

An hour or so, her hiccups stopped as she'd slowly calmed down. Due to the dampness, his shirt stuck to his chest, giving him an uncomfortable sensation, but he wasn't bothered by that since the witch in his arm was finally feeling better. She tilted her head away from him, making a slight distance between them while his warm hand still rested above the bra hook on her exposed back. Draco lowered his head; his eyes met her puffy red ones before they travelled downwards and her largely exposed skin reminded him that behind the blanket Hermione Granger was only in her undergarments. Astonished by the fact, his eyes enlarged as his hand pulled away at lightning speed as if it'd just touched a hot stove.

He coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment away. "Better now?" he muttered. His question had got its answer as she nodded her tousled bushy head with a small smile. Her cheeks were dried now but he could still notice the faint glistening marks on them.

Draco bolted from the bed suddenly and strode to the closet. Pulling a piece of nightgown out, he walked back to her and dropped the piece of fabric on the sheets beside her while trying his best not to look at her uncovered chest area. Then he turned away and busied himself with heating up the food on the table as she put on the gown. It only took him a few flicks to finish the task, but he fixated his eyes on the food for a few more seconds until he couldn't hear any cloth rustling noise.

He handed her a bowl of corn soup and sighed in relief as her skin was concealed nicely behind the linen fabric. Her trembling hands took it and the yellow liquid almost spilt out of the bowl. Trying to keep a "safe" distance from his former schoolmate, Draco sat on the couch with his portion of food and ate silently, while occasionally darted glances to her to make sure she's all right. Her eyes no longer as sombre and her muscles weren't as tense as an hour ago. Except for her tousled, nest-like, bushy hair, overall, she looked fine. He couldn't help growing respect for her. She's not only the brightest witch of their age, but she's also one of the toughest witches he'd ever known.

Draco had finished his food first, then he immersed himself in the book How Magic Interferes Time as he waited for her to finish hers. When he's going for the next chapter, she startled him by calling his name.

"Malone." It's quiet but clear.

His eyes looked up from the text. The empty utensils were placed on the table beside her; her chocolate eyes were staring at him intently. The corners of her lips tilted upwards into a small curve, expressing her gratitude when a "thank you" left the slit of her mouth. He returned her a genuine smile before he bookmarked his book and casually left it on the couch.

Bending over her, he helped her lie down on the mattress before she shifted to her side of the huge bed. He pulled the blanket over her small form with care and her hand covered the back of his, interrupting it from moving away. She squeezed it as she pleaded for his company with her delicate gaze. He sighed and hesitated. She is Know-It-All Granger, his mind screamed. But he ignored it completely as he climbed onto the bed. You dimbo! What are you thinking? He lied down next to her, he's only a few inches away from her.

With a wave of his wand, the candles were extinguished, and the entire room was black immediately. The boundary between their personal sleeping areas was broken as the tiny figure beside him squirmed closer to him, shortened the distance between them and astounded him. He wanted to mock her like how she'd scolded him last time—"you invaded my personal space"—but resisted the urge since he knew she's emotionally vulnerable at the moment. He let her lean against his chest and steal the warmth from him, while he didn't know where to place his arm which was awkwardly rested on the side of his body. Her slower heartbeat was sent through the layers of fabric between them and echoed his faster one, before hers gradually synchronized with his.

"Thank you so much, Ladon." Her warm breath hit his chest as she whispered. This was the first time she called him by his "name", which was a pity since it wasn't his actual name.

"Do you know where the name Ladon comes from?" he asked softly.

"It's Hera's dragon who guarded the gardens of the Hesperides in Greek myth?"

"That's right. Are you familiar with Astronomy?"

She slowly shook her head; it hit his chest several times.

"There's a constellation representing Ladon the dragon, and it's called Draco. That's my name," he stated under his breath calmly, waiting for the outburst of anger and disgust from the witch. However, after a minute, he still didn't earn any response from her. The room was silent and the only sound he could hear was her stable, deep breath. A sigh of relief and regret escaped his lips as he absent-mindedly twisted her curls around his finger.

He didn't know it's lucky or unlucky that Hermione Granger had fallen asleep when he'd recklessly spilt the truth since half of him wished her to know, but another half didn't. After a short session of fathoming, his eyes drooped closed as his arm landed on the waist of the witch while he drifted into dreamland.

Author's note:

It's been a week and I brought you all another new chapter! Hope you all enjoy it! And thank you to everyone especially to those who have given me some lovely reviews!