Chapter Fifteen- Feverish
She wasn't at breakfast the following morning.
Draco had slept well, better than he had done in a long time. He still woke up before the sun had sunk to the bottom of the Black Lake, saturating his room, but his eyes didn't sting like they usually did, his head didn't ache. He felt rested, at peace. Draco even let himself lie in bed for a few minutes.
Draco shifted and he felt the coolness of the band around his ankle. It didn't feel as tight as usual. He wondered if McGonagall had made it slacker. Running a hand over his face, he remembered the way the snow had felt on his skin, the way the heat in the pub had enveloped him and the heat from the Whiskey burned his throat, the way Hermione's hand felt in his, her head against his shoulder, her laugh ringing, the look in her eyes when she looked at him-
Draco pressed his palms into his eyes and let out a strangled noise. What in damnation was that witch doing to him? Had she hexed him? Or was it just that he was so desperate for someone to see him that he was starting to long for Hermione Granger to hold his hand again?
Just seeing her was enough to make his soul settle. He felt like he'd been lost for so long, wandering, searching for a way to be good again, that finding his destination was a dream. It didn't feel real. Yesterday had been the best day he'd had in so long and the fact that she'd gone to so much effort to make it possible, to make it legal, to help him breathe again… Granger had always given 100% to everything she put her mind to. There was something different with this, though, with him. He knew she was invested. He saw it in her eyes when she asked if he was okay, in her blood when she'd bitten her lip raw from trying to figure him out, in the wobble of her voice when she told him she didn't hate him.
That was why, when Granger wasn't at breakfast when he finally meandered to the Great Hall, it made him sick to his stomach. He stood, frozen, in the doorway, eyes roving over the red and gold table. Blaise was watching him and Draco forced himself to move over to the Slytherin table and sit beside his friend to avoid attracting any more odd looks. He swallowed thickly.
"Sleep well?" asked Blaise, still eyeing him.
"Yeah," replied Draco but he was distracted.
Blaise frowned at him then followed his gaze. He sighed. "She hasn't come in yet."
Draco looked at him quickly. "Who?"
His friend looked at him like they both knew it was a redundant question.
"Why should that matter to me?" asked Draco, but he also knew he wasn't fooling either of them.
Blaise didn't even bother to answer. He helped himself to some bacon. "Where were you yesterday anyway? I couldn't find you skulking anywhere in the castle."
Draco stayed silent for a long time. Eventually, he murmured, "What if I wasn't in the castle?"
The fork Blaise had been holding clattered to his plate, attracting a few scowls and startled glances. His friend's eyes flicked to him wildly, then he ducked his head closer and said in a low voice, "Then you're flirting with the law, Draco. You know that."
Draco swallowed. "What if I told you it was legal?"
"The Ministry gave you permission?" Blaise demanded.
Draco looked at him. He nodded once.
Blaise leaned back and let out a long whistle. "Fuck." He laughed. "How'd you manage that?"
"McGonagall."
"But how? Why?"
There was something at the back of Draco's mind that suggested he should tell Blaise the truth but admitting it felt like too much to say. "I don't know."
"Well what did you do? Where'd you go?" questioned Blaise.
"Hogsmeade."
"Alone?" An amused tilt lifted the word.
His amusement shattered a moment later when Draco refused to meet his eyes and said, in a quiet voice, "No."
Blaise frowned deeply. Bewildered, he said, "Then who-?" Understanding dawned on his face and there was something almost horrifying about it, causing Draco to panic. "Granger," he whispered, looking for confirmation.
Draco swallowed. "You can't tell a soul."
Blaise raised his eyebrows. He ran a hand over his head. "I've been ditched for Hermione sodding Granger!"
Draco picked up Blaise's abandoned fork and stabbed his hand lightly with it. "Will you lower your voice?" he hissed.
Blaise didn't even wince. He snatched his fork back and continued plating up. Draco didn't eat.
"Well did you at least have a nice day?" asked Blaise, voice strained.
Draco paused. "Yes. It was lovely, thank you."
He looked back at the Gryffindor Table. She still hadn't turned up. Draco pursed his lips. Wanted to stab himself in the hand with a fork for what he was going to do.
Draco got to his feet, ignoring Blaise's questions, and said, "I forgot something."
Blaise rolled his eyes, knowing that it wasn't a something but a someone that he'd forgotten, but Draco just began walking away from him. He knew where to look first. Lucky for him, Granger was a rather simple creature.
He checked the library first. It made sense that she'd be there, even at this god-awful time in the morning; most likely, Draco reasoned, she was catching up on all the work and additional revision she felt she missed yesterday, guilt spurring her out of bed before the sun had even kissed her curtains. But he caught no sight of her wild head of hair anywhere, and though he whisper-called her name down every aisle and was threatened with getting kicked out, she didn't appear to scold him. When it was clear she wasn't going to jump out from behind any bookshelves, Draco set out for the Room of Requirement but that, too, was empty. He even took the trouble of skirting round the Black Lake just to see if she hadn't popped out for a bit of fresh air. The air was incredibly fresh, and freezing; he didn't spend long outside and quickly made his way back to the Great Hall.
Draco loitered in the doorway, trying to rub some feeling back into his arms. He'd exhausted all his possibilities. He had no choice now. There was only one person he could ask. Well, he could ask a few more but he needed to know where Granger was now and the Elves would take too long to check the whole castle, even between them, and it might be suspicious if he sent a Gryffindor First Year into her Common Room searching for her. That was why Draco stood in the entrance to the Great Hall, arms crossed, stealing himself for what he was about to do. He took a deep breath before he could change his mind. This was for Granger. Granger, who had gone to above and beyond to make sure he was okay. What kind of a person would he be if he didn't do the same?
A snide voice in his head told him he didn't want to know the answer.
Draco walked to the Gryffindor Table before he could step himself.
"Weasley," he said, swallowing back his nerves.
He hadn't spoken to the girl in years and even then, it was only ever a throwaway sneer to remind her of her place in the non-existent hierarchy. Still, Draco thought the look she shot him, like he was chewing gum on the base of her shoe, was a tad unnecessary. Then, he remembered his aunt had tried to kill her. And his father's friend had murdered her brother. He had to force himself to keep looking her in the eye.
"Ferret," she responded. Draco didn't remember Weaslebee's glare ever being this poisonous. A few of the Gryffindors around her laughed slightly. More of them watched him cautiously.
"Um," he began. His eyes flicked to the others, knowing they were listening. Vaguely, he wondered if Granger had even told the Weasley girl. It was unlikely, if she hadn't told Potter. "Can I speak with you? In private?"
Weasley stared at him for a very long time and he was almost about to give it up completely before she shrugged and said, "Sure."
She stood, beckoning for him to lead the way, and he wiped his hands on his trousers and led her out of the hall. As soon as they were out of the way of prying eyes, Weasley turned to him, hands on her lips, looking remarkably like her mother.
She demanded, "What do you want, Malfoy?"
Draco gaped. Then closed his mouth. "Where's Granger?" He cringed when she raised a single eyebrow, rushing to continue, "We have a potions project together and we need to get started on it. I noticed she wasn't at breakfast and I wouldn't know where to find her-"
"Have you checked the library?" Weasley asked plainly.
Draco frowned. "Of course I have."
He nearly drew a smirk from her but she seemed to remember who he was at the last moment. "Well," she crossed her arms. "I waited for her this morning but she didn't come out. When I knocked on her door, she said she wasn't feeling well."
Draco felt his throat tighten and he tried to school his features so his worry wouldn't be as transparent as what it probably was. "Oh. Okay. Thanks."
He made to turn around and she raised her eyebrows and said, "Is that it?"
Draco nodded, resisting the urge to get away from her and run to the Gryffindor Common Room. "Yeah. That's it."
"Right," said Weasley. She was still staring at him funny. "Well, see you around, Malfoy."
She turned on her heel and started back towards the Great Hall. Just before she disappeared inside, Weasley swung back around and said, "How are you anyway? The last time I saw you you'd just had seven shades of shit beaten out of you."
There might have been a hint of mockery in her voice but her face was like stone. In fact, Draco wagered he saw a flicker of sincerity in her dark eyes. He licked at his lips. "I'm alright. And Weasley, thanks for your help."
She nodded once and left, stalking back to her place at the Gryffindor table and resuming eating her breakfast as though nothing had happened. People were watching her.
"What did he want?" Draco heard Longbottom ask.
"Nothing, just asked me something about an assignment," lied Weasley easily.
He didn't wait around much longer. He loitered around the entrance hall as a few late-risers stumbled to breakfast, casting him careful looks and glancing away just as quickly. As soon as they'd passed, Draco skirted round the bannister of the staircase and pelted up the steps, taking two at a time. He didn't stop until he'd made it to the very top floor, skidding round corners and striding down corridors, finally coming to the portrait of the Fat Lady.
He stopped dead in his tracks then, common sense evading him. Now that he was there, he had no idea what to say.
"Tell- um, can you tell Hermione Granger that her- um, her potions partner needs to see her?" Draco demanded lamely.
The woman in the painting wasn't exactly what Draco would call a muse; if he was an artist, he certainly wouldn't have any desire to paint her. She had tight blonde ringlets, a wig if the way it wobbled on her head was anything to go by, purple prunes for lips and an eccentric and ugly middle-century dress. In her hand, she held a silver ornate mirror, which she preened herself in.
Ignoring him.
Draco twitched. He knocked on her frame and proverbial dust rained from the top of the portrait, the Fat Lady trembled, sprawling to steady herself. She looked at him reproachfully.
"Hermione Granger?" he demanded.
"Yes! Yes, alright! Honestly, the audacity. What do you want?" she raised a thinly painted eyebrow. Her voice grated on him, warbling like operetta. Merlin knew how Gryffindors coped with her; Draco thought it was starting to make sense why they were all so touchy.
Draco set his teeth. "I need to see Hermione Granger."
The Fat Lady sniffed, peering at her nails. "She's not well."
His face tightened but he resolved to stay as polite as he could. Plastering a smile on his face, he said, "That's why I need to see her."
"She doesn't need you demanding things of her also."
"I am not demanding-"
Draco pinched his nose. "If you tell her I'm here then I'll leave. If you don't, I'll have to stay and annoy you all day. I have no where better to be."
She tried not to look at him but he knew he'd got her; the Fat Lady's lips pursed, her eyes flicked to him. Holding out a moment more, she let out a melodramatic scream of frustration before flouncing from her frame. Draco smirked.
His smirk didn't last very long. The Fat Lady didn't return. He thought maybe Granger was sleeping, and then he thought more likely the damned woman hadn't even entered Granger's room but crept off so she wouldn't have to help him at all. He started pacing.
It was ten minutes later when the Fat Lady reappeared, a little rumpled, fixing her wig. She shot him a nasty glare. He waited with bated breath but she remained silent, almost in protest.
"What-?"
The portrait hole cracked open and he stopped talking. Sure enough, Granger peered her head round then huffed. She appeared fully after a second. Her hair was wild, even wilder than usual, sparking off in all directions, her eyes were pink and puffy, her nose red, her cheeks flushed, her lips cracked and sore. She was wrapped in a ludicrously bright dressing gown.
"Really, Draco," she sniffed. "Harassing a Portrait isn't going to get you anywhere. It's no wonder I constantly got higher grades than you-"
He growled, storming over to her and, uncaring of whoever might be watching, wrapped his arms around her tightly. Her hair smelled of vanilla and she was warm and soft and okay. After a moment, her thin arms reached up to embrace him.
"Draco," Hermione managed to get out. Her voice was muffled in his shoulder. "I don't mean to alarm you but colds are highly contagious."
Draco stepped away, roughly letting go of her. He glanced up and down the corridor. It was empty. His eyes returned soon after to her face, and he knew he must look ragged as he looked her over. Granger's eyebrows twitched.
"Draco? Were you- were you worried about me?" she sounded puzzled.
He found he couldn't continue looking at her when she sounded like that. It cut him cold like an accusation. His eyes traced the floor. "You weren't at breakfast."
Granger didn't say anything. He knew her lips were probably parted in surprise, that goldfish expression she usually adopted when someone had succeeded in making her speechless. Draco noticed she was barefoot, and goosebumps had already arisen on the exposed skin of her ankles.
"You need to go back to bed," he told her, scratching the back of his neck. "You really will catch your death out here."
She had folded her arms around her body, hugging herself. Granger watched him. "Okay," she nodded after a moment. "Draco-"
He looked up at her.
Granger smiled weakly. "Thank you for checking up on me."
He nodded. She turned round to leave and when she got to the portrait hole, Draco couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "Can I come in?"
Granger blinked. Then, she laughed. "I'm not sneaking you into my bedroom, Draco."
He blushed despite himself. She was still laughing. When she stopped, she leaned her head against the door to the Common Room and said, "You can't come in, Draco. How would I sneak you out? You'd bump into too many people, even with the Cloak on. It's too suspicious."
Draco nodded again, avoiding looking at her. Of course it was a stupid idea. But why on earth did he even want to go into the lions' den? He didn't have a death wish. At least, not anymore.
"But," began Granger, almost shyly. Draco blinked. He didn't think he'd ever seen Hermione Granger shy. "If you want company and you're really not put off by the state of me, then we could go to the Room of Requirement?"
She really did look awful. She kept sniffing and clearing her throat and he knew she was only hugging herself to preserve some heat.
Draco sighed. "Granger, you should rest-"
She rolled her eyes. "Please, I can still rest. I don't plan on doing much moving once we get there. Just let me get my robe. I don't want the whole castle seeing me in my pyjamas."
Her pyjama bottoms were visible from beneath her dressing gown and he noticed they had little golden bees on. Draco smirked. "Why not? They're cute."
The scowl she shot him could have killed him if she meant it. He swore her cheeks flushed darker.
Draco waited for her as she ducked back into the Common Room to retrieve her cloak. The Fat Lady was still disgruntled with him so he avoided looking at her, choosing to pick at his nails. It meant he missed the puzzled look on her oil painted face, and the way she softened, making her a little easier on the eye.
Granger reappeared a few minutes later, wrapping her cloak tight around her body. He realised she must have stopped to brush her hair for it wasn't quite as ferociously wild. He didn't know what to make of that.
They walked side by side, quietly, like they always did, reaching the Room in no time as it was on the same floor. Draco did the pacing and the wishing and held the door open for her when it eventually transpired.
The Room had procured their usual space; the two settees opposite one another, in front of the crackling fire, with a forest of bookshelves at the far end. It was warm, comfortably so, and he saw Granger almost melt. He walked behind her as she made her way to the nearest sofa, just in case. There were piles of blankets and cushions and she collapsed on the seat, laying back into the pillows. He shook a blanket open and draped it over her. Granger schooled her surprise, smiled her thanks.
Sitting opposite her, Draco clasped his hands together, watching her get comfy. She looked like she might fall asleep again at any moment.
"You weren't joking when you said you felt a cold coming on," he remarked. Cleared his throat. Offered her a crooked smile.
She cocked her head and smiled at him. "No. I'm fine. I always come down with one about now. It's not too bad. It means I'm over it by Christmas," she said. She was quiet for a moment. "Have you got any plans for Christmas?"
Draco swallowed thickly. He leaned back into the settee. "I wasn't even allowed into Hogsmeade, Granger. My home is a crime scene. It will be the first Christmas I stay at Hogwarts for, excluding Fourth Year."
"Oh," Granger pulled a face. "I'm sorry. I'm so dense. I didn't think-"
"What! Hermione Granger didn't think?" he teased.
She narrowed her eyes jokingly at him. Draco almost grinned.
She tucked her legs up and shivered, trying to play it off as she shifted. Draco slipped his wand out and conjured her some bed-socks. Granger flexed her toes and laughed. "Thank you, that's much better.
"If it's any consolation, I'm staying over the Holidays too. Harry and Ron are working right up till Christmas Day. I was invited to the Burrow but I'd end up being alone for most of the holiday so I might as well stay here," she said.
Draco tried to offer her a weak smile. "We can be loners together."
She laughed loudly. "What a bleak picture."
His smile softened. When he looked back at her, her eyes were closed. He said gently, "I wouldn't have been offended if you'd declined spending the day with me."
Granger's lips curled lazily. "Knowing how easily offended you are, I'd beg to differ."
Momentarily affronted, Draco recoiled and opened his mouth to retaliate before realising it was just proving her right and a Granger proved right proved insufferable. Instead, he closed his mouth.
"I can't believe you chased around the castle and then accosted-"
"I didn't accost," he scoffed. "If anything, she accosted me. Nobody in their right mind would willingly commit her image to canvas."
"- the Fat Lady just to find me. Once upon a time, you'd avoid me at all costs."
She sounded amused at the fact. Nevertheless, Draco felt a bit bashful. He murmured, "Sometimes, I'd try find you. If I was bored. You always gave me a run for my money. It was entertaining."
Granger cracked an eye open. "When I wasn't verbally destroying you."
"Or punching me," he grimaced, rubbing the ghost of his broken jaw. The bruise hadn't faded for weeks; he'd had to use makeup to hide it from his father.
A traitorous smile crawled across her face at the memory and Draco scowled. It dropped just as quickly.
"Do you have any parchment?" she asked suddenly, eyes darting open. She flew forwards, sitting up, blanket falling from her lap.
Draco frowned. "Why would I have-? Why do you need any? Please tell me you're not planning on doing homework right now, Granger."
"No," she exclaimed. "Be patient and you'll see! Now do you have any?"
He felt like a petulant child, being scolded by his mother. Hauling himself to his feet, he sauntered over to the bookshelves, dragging his finger along the spines. There were quite a few he recognised and he wondered if the Room had done this on purpose. He thought it for sure when he came across a certain title. His finger lingered. His lip curled.
Draco returned not a moment later, book in hand. He flashed her the title when she craned her neck to nosy.
"Hamlet?" Granger read aloud. "You really are an admirer, aren't you?"
"Of Shakespeare? Usually," replied Draco. "But not this one."
He fell back into the settee, opened the book on his lap and ripped out a page. The gasp that tore itself from Granger's throat made it seem like he'd murdered someone in front of her and offered her a cup of tea over the corpse.
He went to rip another one out.
"Draco!" she cried, aghast.
"Oh bugger off, Granger. It's just a book."
"It's a classic!"
"It's a joke," he pulled a face. "Hamlet lets everything destroy him. He should've been more tactile about it."
"His Father was murdered by his Uncle!" she fumed, her nostrils flaring. She looked a little bit more alive than she had done earlier.
"So? What kind of sob story is that?" he demanded.
Granger scoffed loudly. "A bloody good one!"
"Bloody is right," muttered Draco. Then, louder and more incensed: "You have read Hamlet, haven't you! His sob story led to everyone dying!"
"Some people can't help what happens to them," glared Granger.
"No, but they can control how they deal with it," he gritted out.
She scowled but stayed quiet, seeming to let him have it. Then, she held out her hand, jutting it out like a small child coming round from a paddy. Draco ripped another page. He made sure it sounded louder this time. Granger winced.
He stood and passed her the pages. Granger let him know what she thought about him in a nasty glare that didn't instil as much fear in him as it had done once. She sat up a little straighter, retrieving her wand from the pocket of her robe and directing it at the pages. Draco watched her curiously. He swore she muttered something condemning to herself, casting him a final quick scowl.
The magic trickled from the end of her wand, soaking into the paper, which glowed golden. She raised an eyebrow at him when she was finished and he realised he'd been gaping at her.
"Here," said Granger, passing it him back. He met her halfway. She was still a bit unsteady on her feet.
"And what's this?" he questioned, wafting it about.
She frowned. "Well, you can't very well be bothering the Fat Lady. She's a gossip, you know. Everyone will know we're 'potions partners'- nice cover-up by the way, but it means when Slughorn inevitably sets partner work we have to go together to avoid suspicion-"
"Blaise already knows."
Granger petered off, lips still parted as though she was going to continue. She blinked. "Right. Well, it's probably not surprising that he's figured it out. I did chase him down the corridor demanding he tell me your whereabouts."
"I-" Draco stopped. "What?"
Granger cringed. "He didn't tell you?"
He didn't know whether to laugh or be annoyed. Noiselessly, he shook his head.
"Right." Granger wouldn't look at him. "Well, Ginny knows I'm meeting someone when I sneak off. She's been spying on me. Not very well, mind you, but I think she was trying to be respectful about it- anyway, I didn't tell her who."
Draco tried not to look any different but the guilt must've leaked into his face for Granger sobered and demanded, "What?"
"Weasley probably knows now," he said haltingly.
"What did you do?"
The accusation in her voice made him grimace.
"Nothing! Not explicitly, at least. I just asked her where you were-"
"Oh, fuck!"
The expletive came hard and fast from Granger's mouth that Draco had to do a double take. "Granger! Did you just-?"
"Well it's done now, isn't it?" she exclaimed. "If everyone knows, then they know! It's not like I'm ashamed of you, nor you me. Admittedly, it's more frustrating with my friends because they're all fools who cling onto silly high school rivalries, and I don't have the time nor the energy to explain to them the delicacies of the situation. Zabini wasn't thrilled with me when I first spoke to him but at least he seems to know to keep quiet when his opinion isn't wanted. We won't have to sneak around anymore, though." Granger fell back into the settee with a massive huff of air and a flip of her blanket. "Besides, it would be nice to not seem crazy when I'm taking to the sodding Invisible Man!"
Draco couldn't speak for a moment and then he shook his head in slow bewilderment. "Granger, did you just swear? Twice! Has the fever gone to your head now?"
She rolled her eyes, but a small smile curled her lips. "Honestly, Draco," she said. "You act like I'm incapable of using profanities."
"Prim and proper Granger," he smirked. "I never pegged you as a potty mouth."
"That's because I never said what I was really thinking to your face," she replied snidely.
His lip curled. "Clever."
"So I've been told."
"Not very funny though," he said sulkily.
She pouted. "You break my heart." Granger started coughing. She continued weakly, "I've made you laugh quite a bit recently."
"At you, Granger," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "Not with you. There's a difference."
A single eyebrow quirked up her forehead. "I seem to remember you vastly enjoying my company yesterday," she sniffed. "Besides, hunting me down today-"
Draco scoffed. "Will you stop saying it like that! I did not hunt you down-"
"It all makes me think that you rather have a soft spot for me."
She finished and Draco could only stare at her.
He noticed she'd gotten increasingly breathless and slow, her eyes almost rolling back into head, and wondered if the fever really had made it to her brain.
"Granger?"
Her head lolled back into the pillows, blanket slipping further down her body. Draco saw she'd kept her robe on too, but that didn't seem to stop her from shivering violently. He pressed his lips into a line. Carefully, he stood, walking round the coffee table, stopping when he was in front of her. He bit the inside of his cheek, chest feeling like it would explode from the war raging within it but he saw her tremble and relinquished.
Quietly, and softly so as to not alarm her, he eased himself onto the settee next to her. Granger shifted a little bit, cracking an eye open. Draco felt drowned in her accusations. Before he could lose his nerve, he slipped his arm behind her, pulling her to him, wrapping her in his warmth. He felt her dreary eyes on him but ignored it, pulling the blanket to cover her. Granger stiffened, but it was only for a second- it felt much longer, it felt to drag on for hours, making him question and his arm twitched to pull from around her shoulders- before she melted into him, moulding her body to his, head resting in the crook between his shoulder and jaw.
Draco didn't know what this feeling was. The warmth of her, pressed against him, encased in his arms, for he brought his other arm up to wrap around her front, made something settle deep within him. He could feel every one of her breaths, inhaling against his skin, expanding in her chest. Her hair, against every preconception, was not like a bird's nest at all, but soft and ticklish. She smelled of vanilla and olbas oil.
Draco let out a shaky breath. Closed his eyes-
He didn't know exactly what the sensation was when he felt something gentle press against his neck. It was slightly wet, soft, sweet. Granger pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his skin. Draco bit back a gasp.
He swallowed. Leaned closer to her, clutching her tighter. She whispered his name. Spelled it out on the hollow of his neck with her lips. Then fell asleep.
Numbly, he laid his head back on the cushion. The ceiling flickered with the firelight, dancing across the dark, and Draco screwed his eyes shut. Granger was sleeping on him, close to his body, at peace and making his heart feel at peace in quite the same manner. His neck buzzed, like he'd been electrocuted and the sparks remained, incapacitating him with aftershocks.
What was she doing to him? Why did she think she could waltz into his mess of a life with her bee pyjamas and garish gown and give him a meaning, give him motive and reason, to live when he'd all but given up? Draco let out a ragged sigh. Looking down at her, he knew he didn't mind. He couldn't. Not when she made him feel like there was a sunrise inside of his chest, which could only set in her eyes. He swallowed again. Licked his lips because they'd gone dry. Then, slowly, he leaned closer and pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering there, closing his eyes, holding her as close as he dared, knowing he would never truly let her go.
AN: Merry Christmas to you all! Watching a film and my mother just commented that I seem to have a thing for, and I quote, "arrogant blonds." I have no words. I was really struggling with this chapter because I just had nothing to write and really, it was intended to be just a filler to get in some cute scenes of Draco nursing Hermione and then suddenly, after weeks of dabbling and a concentrated three days of writing, it turns out I have 5000+ words and it's probably one of the most important chapters today which is bizarre. Things finally seem to be heating up. I hope you had a lovely Christmas and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.