Chapter 17 – Headspace

A/N: I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas holiday and are staying safe. 2020 has been an absolute bummer of a year and 2021 is full of unknowns. I hope this chapter puts a smile on your face. We all need an escape. Here's to the New Year – cheers my friends

While she rested upstairs, Draco gently picked up the bulb that had been left untouched on the floor. He turned the plant in his hand. Roots had sprouted, reaching for soil and water. Rather than let her magical efforts be wasted, he wrapped the bulb in a warm, damp towel and cast a statis charm til he could find a way to plant the thing. For now, there was firewood that still needed to be collected. He had dropped it all in his panic. Heading for the door, he affixed his cloak's closure and headed outside to finish the task.

An hour later, he had a solid pile against the side of the cottage and the bin inside fully stocked. Taking a break, he noticed that the majority of snow had melted and he could see the setup of the property around the cottage better. To the left, a couple meters away, lay the flowing creek. Its waters swelled with snowmelt. An empty space sat on the right.

Hmm.

Thinking of the bulb, he considered the space. It was appropriately sized for a small garden. He walked through the mud towards the space and looked around. Looking upwards, he noticed the upstairs reading nook window overlooked the potential garden space and was also aligned with a proper path for sunlight. He chuckled lightly to himself. Yes, this was definitely the perfect spot for a garden. After their enlightening conversation, Draco decided that he needed to do something to properly thank Granger. Gratitude with conditions attached felt disingenuous. His brows furrowed as he attempted to think of what she could possibly want. He obviously couldn't buy her anything out here. Besides, he wouldn't even know what to buy her besides books. Even then, he was unsure of which subject of book he would get. She had so many interests and passions. He would have to make do with what he had in front of him.

His mind drifted back to the bulb once again. He wondered why she had been so focused on that particular one. There had been several seeds and bulbs in that tin. He remembered suddenly which plant it was. It had been the only iris in there. Maybe, he wondered, irises held a singular importance to her. Maybe they were her favorite flower? He shook his head. Flowers were such a juvenile approach to show appreciation.

However…

His feet were already moving before his brain caught up. He recalled the wild bouquet she had brought back and set out hoping to find them. As he walked through the woods, searching for the bright blooms, he let his mind wander.

If they were truly connected in some way, he wondered if he'd be able to detect her magic. To see if it was different from his. She seemed to know what his magic looked like. He made a mental note to ask her the next time she woke. What did her magic look like?

He snorted at his line of thought. He was more concerned about the physical manifestation and form of their magic rather than the fact that her magic resided within him. He had to admit he was mildly curious as to what abilities were possible with this connection. Even with just a small amount of bonding, he could seemingly detect any distress she encountered. Could she sense the same thing in him?

He decided to let his mind lazily address the growing pang of attachment towards her. He conceded internally that he had not cared for her suggestion of seeking out another bond mate. Although, he figured that issue would resolve itself once their minor bond was severed. Admittedly, he didn't feel physically comfortable at the thought of their bond being severed, but she deserved a better bond than someone who barely accepted her magical heritage.

He also noticed his desire to be closer to her was intensifying. Remembering the scent of her hair and the way she had felt in his arms. He sniffed, not ready to acknowledge THAT feeling just yet. He could admit he enjoyed her company and didn't want her hurt. That wasn't a bonding thing, he argued internally, just what a normal wizard was supposed to do for someone they considered…

Draco stopped abruptly.

What DID he consider her? Consort was just archaic and weird. They were way past being acquaintances. Friend didn't feel accurate either considering their past history along with what they had been through together so far. Even the label for whatever it was they were felt unknowable.

He huffed and resumed walking, thinking of Granger was becoming wildly confusing and left him with more questions than answers. He searched until he happened upon a cluster of wild winter flowers. Looking around, he noticed more flowers bursting from the ground. His boots were caked in mud and he reached down to run a finger through the wet earth. The ground was soft and pliable, indicating the soil was no longer frozen. He smiled once again and set to work.

A couple hours and several Scourgify later, Draco had a collection of budding bulbs in his possession. Yes, flowers were juvenile, but a secret surprise garden was pure genius. He grinned at his clever idea. If this gift didn't impress her, nothing would.

A sarcastic voice in his head remarked at the exceedingly romantic nature of the gesture, but Draco ignored it's mocking tone. Romantic or not, he retorted mentally, she had given him life and he was just returning the favor in an exceedingly ingenious manner. He strolled back to the cottage as the sky darkened and carefully hid the bulbs where she wouldn't find them.

He creeped up the stairs and gently eased open the door to check on her. Their bond hadn't given indication she was in trouble, but he needed to visually confirm her well-being regardless. Satisfied with her soft breathing, he quietly backed out of the room and slipped downstairs. Following a simple dinner, he curled up next to fire and fell into a deep slumber.

The next few days passed uneventfully. Hermione slowly regained her strength and abstained from using any magic beyond simple spells, choosing instead to stay in bed and read. She had been dismayed to find the iris bulb missing when she ventured downstairs but assumed Malfoy had thrown it out after their discussion. She was heartbroken but couldn't blame him. She had hurt herself magically and he didn't know what the iris meant to her. Privately, she mourned the loss of the flower and her mother's memory along with it.

Padding downstairs, she frowned finding the cottage empty. He seemed to be spending more and more time outdoors. More specifically, he appeared to be purposefully avoiding her. She couldn't blame him. The days were finally getting longer and warmer. The snow was completely gone and green buds had begun to dot the previously barren tree branches. She crossed her arms, irritated at his prolonged absences. She knew she had messed up with the bulb business, but it wasn't fair that he should punish her this way.

Wait a minute, she scolded herself. Just because there is a bond between us, a tentative one at that, doesn't mean he is required to spend time with me. That literally removes any semblance of free will. I didn't 'bind' him to me for the company. I did it to save his life.

Or did you? Cerridwen's voice hummed from the back of her mind.

Of course, she argued back. What kind of person would that make me if I had just let him bleed out in the snow?

Whatever settles your soul, my vessel. I distinctly remember you begging him to 'come back to you', Cerridwen responded simply. Its all here in your head, child.

Hermione huffed in exasperation. The last thing she needed was a goddess with access to her entire memories and thoughts while using that information against her.

"Oh hush!" she whispered forcefully, "I've already got enough on my mind, I don't need you analyzing my thoughts."

"Umm, not to interrupt," a voice spoke, "But, who are you talking to?"

Hermione whipped around to face Malfoy as the echoes of Cerridwen's light laughter bounced in her head. He was watching her, his face slightly flushed. She struggled on whether she should tell him the truth or try and play off her undoubtedly questionable behavior. Unable to come up with a convincing excuse, she chose the truth.

"Being the vessel for a goddess isn't exactly a walk in the park," she quipped, hoping her light tone would shake any suspicions he might have on her sanity, "I can't control when she chooses to speak to me and sometimes it's a bit, uh, overwhelming having a second voice in my head."

She held her arms out, trying to show Malfoy she was physically unharmed and still, somewhat, of a sound mind. He searched her up and down before settling on her eyes. She gave a weak smile, hoping he believed her.

"Glad to know you haven't quite gone over the deep end." He responded, a smirk lifting the edge of his lips, "If you are done consulting with your own personal goddess, I've got something for you."

He held out a gloved hand towards the door, gesturing that she should follow. She ignored his jab at Cerridwen and threw on her cloak, fastening the collar.

What could he possibly show me, she wondered.

She walked behind his tall form at a cautious distance. He stopped at the right side of the cottage and held an arm out. See nothing out of the ordinary, she looked at him in confusion.

"There's nothing here." She murmured, suspicious that he was making fun of her.

"Close your eyes." He chuckled, a boyish grin lighting up his features.

"What are you up to Malfoy?" she asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.

"Relax and close your eyes." He replied in annoyance, "Are you always this difficult?"

She huffed and slowly closed her eyes. Feeling a rush of air around her, she panicked slightly and made to open her eyes.

"Ah. No peeking." She heard Malfoy say in a sing-song voice as his hand gently covered her eyes. "One more charm and then you can look."

"They are closed." She exclaimed.

She felt the air change again, then Malfoy's hand lifted from her eyes.

"Ok, now you can open them." He urged.

She cracked her eyes opened, which immediately widened when they adjusted to the sight before her. Hermione's hands flew to cover her mouth, which had just dropped open in shock. It was the beginnings of a garden! The beds had been prepped and surrounded by a white wooden fence. A small greenhouse sat to the side, its insides already glowing with an intense green haze. Next to the greenhouse, on a post, sat a simple birdhouse. Everything looked straight out of a home and gardening magazine. She turned to look at Malfoy, at a complete loss for words.

"There's one more thing." He shared, "Just over here."

She stumbled after him, still in shock. He strode towards the greenhouse and pulled open the door, motioning for her to follow once more.

"Look inside." He commanded, his grin still in place.

She stepped inside, immediately noticing how warm it was inside. He closed the door behind them and pointed to the shelves. She gasped. Rows upon rows of tiny, vibrant seedlings were pushing through dark earth – held in small, clay containers.

"How did you?" she squeaked out, her words refusing to leave her lips properly.

He laughed mildly and she smiled at the sound, despite her shock.

"Magic." He gestured vaguely to the building around them.

She lightly smacked his arm in response to his sarcastic answer.

"Obviously." She snarked, "Is this what you've been doing while you were 'out'?"

He nodded, choosing not to elaborate, and directed her to a particularly large pot filled with robust growth. Her throat went dry when she grasped what she was looking at.

The iris! He had saved it!

Tears immediately sprang to her eyes and before she could control herself, Hermione launched herself towards Malfoy and wrapped her arms around him in a crushing hug. She buried her face in his chest and smiled against the wool of his cloak.

"It's beautiful!" she cried, sobs threatening to choke her, "Thank you so much."

Malfoy froze momentarily in her arms before giving her an awkward pat on the back. She gently released him, realizing she might have overstepped his personal boundaries.

"I'm sorry," she offered, giving him a watery smile, "I just thought the iris was gone."

He quickly recovered and gave her a shy smile in response.

"Are irises your favorite?" he questioned, his posture relaxing somewhat as he leaned against the greenhouse's counter.

"They were my mother's favorite. She planted them all along the front of our home every spring." Hermione replied, a longing in her voice, "I think that's why I wanted so badly to make it grow. It would be like I had a piece of her here with me."

"I understand." He answered, looking down and seemingly unsure of what to say next.

She peered at him closely. His features were soft and almost boyish with wispy, platinum strands framing his face. He appeared lost in thought and Hermione's breath hitched as she guessed he was more than likely thinking about his own mother. Their experiences converged more on commonality than difference as time went on. Her heart went out to him and somewhere under the surface, she felt the flutter of something else. He had worked diligently to create this splendid garden just for her. Drumming up that infamous Gryffindor courage, she made a decision.

"I love it…" She spoke, softly testing the waters, "Draco."

His head gradually tilted towards her and he pushed off the counter, his posture tense.

Oh hell, her mind shrieking in panic, this was a terrible mistake. Of course she had to go and ruin a perfectly good moment. Maybe she could back out of the greenhouse before he exploded on her.

She took a cautious step back, her eyes never leaving his. They flashed and she gulped nervously, unable to read what emotions were flickering across those icy depths. As quickly as his reaction had come, it disappeared as he slumped back against the counter once more. She released a breath she didn't known she had been holding.

"I, uh…you're welcome…H-Hermione." He faltered, clearly struggling.

Looking away, she couldn't ignore the flurry that burst in her chest when her name fell from his lips. Even in a stutter, her name sounded like music from his mouth. A soft cadence of syllables. How badly she wanted to hear it again. She coughed gently, trying to tamp down the wild fluttering before turning her eyes to his again.

He was watching her, a strange expression on his face. It reminded her of the odd look he had given her back at Malfoy Manor when they had walked the grounds by the frozen lake and he had accidentally called her Granger instead of that dreadful 'Marked One' sobriquet. He took a step forward and it sent a tremor through her. The greenhouse quickly closed in on her and Hermione was acutely aware of just how close they were. One more step and he'd tower over her. Her body refused to move, waiting breathlessly for his next movement.

He closed the space between them and raised his arm, his hand hovering to the side of her head. His eyes had darkened, simultaneously dangerous and compelling. She felt his fingers start to thread into her curls while lightly brushing the curve of her neck. The touch went straight to her toes and she let out a ragged breath.

The sound seemed to knock him out of his trance and his fingers twitched away from her. He blinked, his face growing empty, before he roughly brushed past her and out of the greenhouse.

Draco's mind was screaming as he bolted from the greenhouse, leaving a probably bewildered Grang-, wait, Hermione in his wake. He wasn't sure how to address her anymore. With a two, little syllables, she had ripped the figurative rug out from under his feet. His thoughts were racing so quickly, he couldn't seem to focus on a single one.

The way his knees had nearly buckled hearing her say his name. The suppressed groan at what that sound had done to his insides. The warmth and kindness radiating from her surprising embrace. The unbridled and fierce desire to possess her that rocked his core. The feeling of her body pressed against his. The spark that moved him towards her. That he wanted nothing more than to hear her whisper his name over and over.

His feet carried him swiftly to the field where he had originally harvested the bulbs. He smacked his palm against his forehead, groaning into the surrounding silence. He had created this outdoor escape for her and he had run out like a coward. In less than five minutes, she had managed to tear a gaping hole in his emotional walls. Walls he had built to save himself from truly caring for her. Each night he tried to forget how he was spiraling into a place he had never been. He had only ever genuinely cared for one person. His mother. He respected Snape. He feared his father. He was friendly with Blaise and Theo. But he had never allowed anyone to emotionally reside any deeper, but somehow, that bushy-haired goddess-witch had wormed her way in before he even realized it.

Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?

He dropped onto a nearby log and dropped his head into his hands. His hair swept forward, the longest it had ever been. He sighed. Another change. His entire world had shifted on its axis in these past two months and at the center of his universe was her.

He groaned once more and lifted his head, focusing on a nearby tulip. The ruby red blossom swayed with a soft breeze and Draco reached down, breaking the stem and lifted the flower to his face. He focused on the gloss of the petals, the grains of pollen, and whatever minute details his eyes could find – desperately attempting to think about anything else. Something in which he failed terribly.

Is this because I am supposed to be her consort and since the bond has been enacted, the draw intensifies? How am I supposed to know if anything I am feeling is actually real and not some blasted prophecy? I wish I could ask Mother. Maybe she would have known.

Too late now, she was gone, he thought bitterly.

"Gah," he yelled in frustration, tapping the tulip against his cheek in exasperation, "Why is this so hard?!"

He threw the flower down, as if to blame it for a lack of answers and rose from the log. He couldn't stay out here forever, he'd have to face her again. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he stalked back to the cottage.

She stood outside the greenhouse, nervously chewing on her thumb. He had run off almost half an hour ago and she had struggled on whether to follow him or not. She had decided against it and roamed around the garden and greenhouse, waiting for him to return. In the meantime, she took catalogue of the seedlings he had managed to grow. Their names were written on small pieces of parchment in looping, elegant script. She admired his penmanship. Harry and Ron were extraordinarily messy writers and she had constantly nagged them to improve their writing style. She frowned, remembering her two best friends. She wondered if they were alright and if anything had progressed with the Order. Which, in turn, made her grimace. Eventually, she would have to convince the Order to forgive Draco Malfoy. She continued on this train of thought, listing various reasons she'd use to as evidence.

A small chirping interrupted her musings and she looked down to see a tiny puff perched lightly on the birdhouse. It had a coppery breast framed in soft grays and light blues. Hermione giggled at how round the bird appeared, a robin by the looks of it. It chittered vigorously in response to her giggle.

"Hullo there." She greeted, holding her hand out gently, "You are lovely, aren't you?"

The robin gave a couple sharp chirps and hopped down into her outstretched palm. Hermione released a squeak of surprise that the bird had actually landed in her hand. She refused to move for fear she'd startle the tiny creature to death. It resumed its twittering, as if it were venting to her about its day.

"Well, it is very nice to meet you." She giggled, "It sounds like you've had quite the day!"

It bounced and flapped about, squeaking in further avian discussion. It stopped its journey across her hand and gave a single low squawk, apparently sensing danger. Hermione slowly turned her head to find Malfoy staring at her and the bird in her hand, an incredulous and mystified look on his face. His head was shifting back and forth between Hermione and the bird. His pale brows were so high, they had nearly disappeared into his hairline.

"A-are you having a conversation with that bird?" he stammered out.

Hermione glanced back at the robin and it cocked it's head at her, then flew from her hands back to the birdhouse.

"It just flew into my hands and started chittering away." She answered carefully.

She dropped her hands and turned towards him.

"Look…" she started.

"Please let me speak first," he held up a hand to stop her, "I shouldn't have run when I did. I supposed I was just a bit shocked at you saying my name after being called Malfoy for so long. If you are upset, please know that it was not my intention. This was supposed to my way of showing appreciation for saving my life."

Hermione sniffed, noticing he had purposefully chosen to avoid their earlier interaction in the greenhouse. The moment she was most curious about.

"I am not upset." She responded lightly, choosing to follow his lead and let the moment lie unspoken, "I was worried I had crossed a line. Honestly, when you consider it, calling each other by our last names is a bit ridiculous. We've both helped each other, we are stuck together in this cottage, and there is also the little issue of the bond." She finished with a smirk.

He seemed to visibly relax at her answer before he shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered towards her.

"You've got a point there…" he agreed, a roguish note to his voice, "Hermione."

Oh my!

He drew out the syllables like he was pouring honey and it went straight to her navel. Sweet Circe, this better had not be a reoccurring theme every time he speaks my name. I should not be struggling to hold myself together like this. Maybe I shouldn't have advocated for us to use each other's name?

Squaring her shoulders, she decided to return the favor.

"Glad you agree, Draco." She purred silkily, drawing out his name as he had done with hers.

She grinned, receiving the response she was hoping for. His eyes widened a fraction as he thickly swallowed. His steps faltered only for a moment and she struggled to stifle the giggle bubbling up her throat. He hastily recovered and stopped a safe, but respectable distance from her. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and crossed them over his chest.

"So what's the bird name?" he asked, tilting his head towards the small animal.

Hermione snorted, amused at how fast he deflected the conversation from their exchange. She turned to address the robin, who had remained perched on the birdbox, and lifted a finger to her chin in mock concentration. She hid a smile as a devious little plan formed in her head.

"Might I inquire as to what your name is?" she addressed the robin, pretending to listen carefully.

The bird gave several chirps and then promptly flew away. Stifling another snort, she rearranged her face into a serious expression before turning back to Draco.

"His name is Hugo." She answered, keeping her voice as level as possible.

He released an odd sort of involuntary sound, like a mix with between a grunt and gasp while his eyes bulged slightly.

Hermione couldn't help but crack a smile while she cackled internally. He didn't need to know she that she did not actually have the ability to converse with animals like some sort of Disney princess. She'd save that bit of information for another day.

Post A/N: Yes, Hugo was totally intentional. It's a nod to the Cursed Child and that's all I'll say about that "story".