Author's Note: Thank you for all your reviews! I've been checking out a lot
of books, hoping that I'm not going over with the actual facts in history.
But, oh well. I know, Goyle as a knight? Well, I chose him because of his
name; don't you think that Gregory is a good name for a knight? Well, I do!
Oh, and I won't be using their language before, I feel uncomfortable with
writing it. Sorry that this chapter only focuses on one scene. I'll let
Hermione roam around the castle by the next chapter. Any suggestions are
welcome, so please... read and review!
Chapter 4: The Stirring of Truth
The lord was awake long before any of the servants were, the next morning. He had a hard time sleeping. He kept on wondering who this woman was and what her purpose here was. More importantly, why was she affecting him this much?
It was almost midnight when he retired to his bed chamber, after a drink with his most trusted friend, Sir Gregory Goyle. He and Goyle had met during a brawl with some men who were passing through the land. Draco had been challenged, unarmed and alone, to face ten ruffians. Draco, having years that are testament to his skill with the blade and with his bare hands, had accepted. He was about to face the leader of the gang, when a man came rushing through the other ruffians, drawing his sword and managing to unarm most of them. It had been a young Gregory Goyle.
That event started their ten-year friendship. Goyle had once been offered lordship in another land, but he blatantly refused it. His loyalty to his friend ran far deeper than his quest for power. And in gratitude, Draco had given Goyle a part of his castle.
They talked about what happened during the day. About finding Hermione lying in the grass, mistaken by Goyle for an angel fallen from heaven. He laughed at his own folly, being more adept to smile and give a kind remark to people who helped him. Draco however, merely smirked. Having gone through so much during his childhood, others doubted that he could ever learn how to smile or laugh.
Not that it bothered him.
And now, he was simply sitting on the chair in his bed chamber, staring into the fire and thinking. He could've easily pursued his suspicion of Hermione and accuse her of being a spy of the enemy. But somehow, he believed her confusion and shock. It was of some inane reason, one which he could not place or name.
He tried another approach. After all, he could simply ask her when the time was right. But now it was time for deeper matters. Why in Sweet Mary's sake did he feel different around her?
Draco was not a passionate man. But he was not inexperienced either. He found enough satisfaction in the whores that his comrades sometimes pushed upon him, but beyond that, he never cared much for women. He thought them plain and uninteresting, uneducated in a sense. He loved only one woman in his life and that was his mother. Unfortunately, due to circumstances which he would not bring up, she had died five years earlier. After her death, he became more ruthless and more unfeeling. Many doubted if he had a heart at all. Most doubted that he had a soul.
But if he had no soul or heart, why then did he feel a racing of his pulse whenever he thought about her? Get a hold of yourself, man! He chided himself. She does not affect you any more than an enemy unseen or unheard from. It is simply the nerves that get you like this!
He stayed in that position for most of the night. And so, when dawn broke, he was in a foul mood. He bathed shortly thereafter then went down to the courtyard for a breath of fresh air.
* * *
Hermione woke up to a slight rustle of a skirt. She woke, but did not open her eyes. She tried to listen to the sounds around her and see if she was dreaming or it had all been true. She heard nothing. And so, she finally opened her eyes.
"Good morning, my lady." Said a kind-voiced, elderly woman who Hermione assumed to be the housekeeper or castle-keeper, for that matter.
Hermione blinked once or twice before slowly pulling herself up into a sitting position. She turned to the kind woman and smiled. "Good morning to you too..."
"I'm Mathilde, my lady. Lord Draco's servant. He has told me to keep an eye on you today." Mathilde answered.
"Oh, well, thank you, I think..." Hermione smiled then looked around and gasped. She was in one of the most beautiful rooms she'd ever seen, medieval or not. The huge four-poster bed was draped with white, crisp linen that gave a sort of light and airy feeling. Although the walls were made of stone, the huge window on the left of the bed provided enough light for the whole room to be bright and inviting. Hermione also noticed that a fire was burning in the fireplace.
"Oh dear!" Mathilde suddenly exclaimed, making Hermione remove her eyes from her beautiful surroundings and back to Mathilde. "You must be hungry, my lady... Forgive me. I will be back with your breakfast." And she was off before Hermione had a chance to say anything else.
Hermione then smiled at Mathilde's sudden departure. She took the time to examine the room more closely. She took quick note of the architectural layout, marveling at how innovative medieval people were, despite the beliefs of her history professors during her school days. Hermione shook her head, thinking about the time when her professor made a comment about the Middle Ages, saying that they were uncivilized and barbaric. Maybe he should have come here, instead of me, and they'll make him eat his words! Hermione thought gleefully.
She was about to get up from the bed and proceed to look outside the window when the door to her room suddenly opened. In went Mathilde, carrying a bed tray and Hermione's breakfast... and a look that reprimanded her in an instant.
"Oh no, my lady, my lord had ordered me for you not to leave that bed and I intend on following him." She scolded as she neared Hermione and deposited the tray of Hermione's lap.
Hermione chuckled at the woman. Mathilde then smiled at the genuine laugh that Hermione have her, thinking that it was the first time that she heard a woman's laugh in quite some time.
"Eat now, my lady. Otherwise lord Draco would be most unpleased."
"Oh, Mathilde, I would mean no disrespect to lord Draco, but really, I don't think I have to be watched over like a little child. Especially by him." Hermione said, her eyes twinkling.
"Oh? Then would you explain to me why you felt the urge to faint yesterday?" A voice asked. This was no servant talking. It was lord Draco himself.
Hermione turned toward the sound and found him leaning on the doorway, hands crossed over his chest and watching her intently.
"My lord." Mathilde greeted, and promptly bowed. Hermione simply watched, not knowing what to do. Should she bow? Should she acknowledge him? Good heavens, where was a book about medieval manners when you need one?
And so, she simply dropped her eyes, unable to do anything else.
"You may leave, Mathilde. I wish to speak with our guest." Draco said, lifting himself up from the doorway and walking towards the bed.
"Yes, my lord." Mathilde said, bowing once again and leaving the room, closing the door behind her. Once she was out however, she looked back at the closed door and wondered who this woman was... and why was lord Draco acting so strange?
"Good morning to you, fair maiden. I trust you slept well?" He asked smoothly.
"Yes, thank you." Hermione answered. Draco dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and seated himself. His gaze never wavered.
"Forgive me, but, you should be eating right now. You're weak and fatigued." He drawled. "Unless, you need to be spoon fed."
Hermione did her best not to fully lash out on him. How dare he! How dare he assume her current state was, just because she fainted yesterday! If he thinks that just because a woman faints, she's weak for life, then I'm about to show him what I'm really made of! She said to herself in grim determination.
She glared at him and he simply raised an eyebrow. "I can feed myself, thank you very much." She said curtly.
"Indeed." Then he was silent. She looked at him, expecting him to continue. He just continued to look at her innocently. "Well? Aren't you going to eat?"
Hermione was dumbfounded for a moment. What was he playing at? He was going to watch her as she ate? Well...! She took long deep breaths to get her temper under control. He wasn't lying before when he told her to keep her temper in check, she was very hot tempered.
And so, she picked up her spoon and ladled her broth. She blew on it a few times before she placed it on her lips. The broth was delicious. She smiled then continued to eat.
Draco was merely observing her. He continued to watch her as she ate, blowing at times when the broth was too hot. He let his eyes travel down to her body, clothed in his mother's favorite nightgowns. He was tempted to smile at the memory of his late mother, who used to hug and kiss him when he was but a small child, scared of the nightmares that haunted him in his sleep. But that temptation was quickly put to an end, for his guest had spoken.
"You know, it is quite rude for man to simply watch a woman eat." She said nonchalantly. She looked at him.
"I am merely making sure that my guest is well fed and nourished." He replied.
"Oh." Hermione said sarcastically. "Well, there must be some other reason why you chose to grace me with your presence."
"There is... but wouldn't you rather finish your food?"
"I think I am done, thank you."
"Well then, if you would permit me..." As he rose up from the chair and neared her. He then bent down slightly. Hermione did not know what he was about to do. She stiffened and watched him like a hawk.
He was bending down and now he was reaching out toward her. Hermione's heart raced, wondering still what he was meaning to do.
Is he going to kiss me? She asked herself as she watched him. He was close enough for her to smell his scent and drown in it. He was looking at her straight in the eye and she was lost in the color. He was still reaching out, Hermione expected him to take her hand and pull her towards him...
But, she was left humiliated and ashamed at her own thoughts when he merely grasped the bed tray and lifted it off her. Then, he turned and placed the tray on a nearby table. After that, he sat back down on the chair.
Hermione let out an irritated breath. Damn him!
But when she looked at him, he wasn't laughing or even smirking. He was simply looking at her with an innocent expression on his face. Obviously, he didn't mean to humiliate her, merely removing the impeding bed tray so she was comfortable. Hermione scolded herself harshly for letting her mind make a fool of her.
"Are you alright? You look pale..." He brought up.
"I'm fine." She said quickly. Not meeting his gaze, lest he would notice another color other than pale that showed up on her face.
"Very well, can I know ask you a few questions?"
Oh no, the inevitable question and answer... But she nodded.
"Good. Why did you faint yesterday?"
Oh trust him to be blunt and straightforward! Hermione thought. "Well, I was shocked."
"Why were you shocked?"
"Because of the year..."
"Why should you be shocked of the year?" There was something in his eyes, amusement, Hermione concluded.
She took a deep breath, wondering if she should tell him. She was longing for answers as well. One question being: how was she able to travel to the year 1375 when just yesterday, she was getting ready for her wedding in the year 2003?
"If I tell you the truth, would you promise one thing?" She looked at him, her eyes pleading.
Draco had no choice but to agree to her plea. One look at her face and he found himself wishing that he could make right whatever was wrong. He wanted to scowl at his thoughts right then and there, but figured that Hermione would get the wrong idea. And so, he kept his face impassive.
She took another deep breath. "Would you promise never to accuse me of something I'm not?"
He looked at her hard. Then he nodded, that damn feeling was back and he had no choice but to agree with whatever she wanted. Damn! He thought as he waited for her to tell her tale.
"Thank you."
"The tale?" He prompted.
"Yes, I was getting to that..." Hermione paused and recollected her thoughts. "My name is Hermione Granger, daughter of Robert and Anne Granger. I am 24 years old."
She looked at him and he nodded for her to continue.
She took another deep breath. "Draco..." She called and he looked up, surprised. No one had ever called him by his name alone before, it was of mixed emotion when she said it. But, she paid his look of surprise with no mind other pressing matters were in her head. "Please do not interrupt me, no matter what I say... please do not interrupt me."
"I won't." He replied. She looked at him gratefully.
"Before you found me, or rather, when Sir Goyle found me, I was not in your time... Before he found me, I was not in the year 1375... I was in the year 2003." She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her lips together, expecting him to shout and yell at her. When a few moments passed with silence, she slowly opened her eyes and relaxed. Then she looked at him.
He was looking at her. And he was leaning forward. His eyes were looking at her in confusion. But he kept his promise when he refused to speak, even when a million questions were racing through his mind.
"I was born in 1979..." Hermione continued. "For the most part of yesterday, I was in the year 2003. But then, I was whisked away to here... I don't know how I came here..."
"Might I ask you something?" Draco spoke up.
"Go on."
"Are you mad?!" He exclaimed, rising up from his chair.
"No! I don't know how I came here. But what I'm telling you is true! I'm from the future and I came here!"
"No... It is simply impossible..."
"I know it's impossible! You think I believe in time travel? Well, I don't, I never did until now, until it happened to me!" Hermione retorted, her voice rising.
"What proof do you have? What proof can you give for me to actually believe that I am here talking to a woman who claims she's from the future?!"
"Look at my clothes, the dress I was wearing yesterday. Look at my shoes!" Hermione pointed out, she was getting close to tears. She then reached toward her right ear and plucked her diamond earring. "Look at this" She said, handing the jewelry out to him. "You will not find any jewelry like that in here!"
He inspected the earring closely. It was true, what she said, that there was no piece of jewelry like this in the land. And it possible that she might be from the future... but, like true Malfoy fashion, he refused to believe it.
"You expect me to believe that you are from the future just because of a few things?" He asked her, handing back the earring.
Hermione stared at him in disbelief, then lost it. "What more do you want?!" She cried out. The tears were threatening to spill out. "I am here, all alone... my parents are probably beside themselves out of worry! I have nothing and I don't what to do..." And with that acceptance of her helplessness, the tears began to flow.
Draco stiffened, he had not expected tears. He did not know how to comfort a crying woman... hell, he didn't know how to comfort at all. But she was crying... and it was up to him to pacify her. Taking a deep breath, he walked nearer her, reached out and touched her arm.
"Don't cry... I'll believe you." Draco said immediately regretting the words, but he had no choice. She quieted for a moment, then lifted her head. Draco's breath caught but he refused to show it.
Hermione smiled up at him through her tears. "Thank you."
He nodded, then removed his hand from her arm. "Go and get some rest..."
"Okay."
He didn't know what the word was exactly, but he had a feeling it was a form on saying yes. And so, he went towards the door and opened it. As he was about to step out, he was hindered by a soft calling of his name. He looked back and saw her laying on her side, watching him leave.
"Thank you, Draco." She said.
"You're welcome, Hermione."
Chapter 4: The Stirring of Truth
The lord was awake long before any of the servants were, the next morning. He had a hard time sleeping. He kept on wondering who this woman was and what her purpose here was. More importantly, why was she affecting him this much?
It was almost midnight when he retired to his bed chamber, after a drink with his most trusted friend, Sir Gregory Goyle. He and Goyle had met during a brawl with some men who were passing through the land. Draco had been challenged, unarmed and alone, to face ten ruffians. Draco, having years that are testament to his skill with the blade and with his bare hands, had accepted. He was about to face the leader of the gang, when a man came rushing through the other ruffians, drawing his sword and managing to unarm most of them. It had been a young Gregory Goyle.
That event started their ten-year friendship. Goyle had once been offered lordship in another land, but he blatantly refused it. His loyalty to his friend ran far deeper than his quest for power. And in gratitude, Draco had given Goyle a part of his castle.
They talked about what happened during the day. About finding Hermione lying in the grass, mistaken by Goyle for an angel fallen from heaven. He laughed at his own folly, being more adept to smile and give a kind remark to people who helped him. Draco however, merely smirked. Having gone through so much during his childhood, others doubted that he could ever learn how to smile or laugh.
Not that it bothered him.
And now, he was simply sitting on the chair in his bed chamber, staring into the fire and thinking. He could've easily pursued his suspicion of Hermione and accuse her of being a spy of the enemy. But somehow, he believed her confusion and shock. It was of some inane reason, one which he could not place or name.
He tried another approach. After all, he could simply ask her when the time was right. But now it was time for deeper matters. Why in Sweet Mary's sake did he feel different around her?
Draco was not a passionate man. But he was not inexperienced either. He found enough satisfaction in the whores that his comrades sometimes pushed upon him, but beyond that, he never cared much for women. He thought them plain and uninteresting, uneducated in a sense. He loved only one woman in his life and that was his mother. Unfortunately, due to circumstances which he would not bring up, she had died five years earlier. After her death, he became more ruthless and more unfeeling. Many doubted if he had a heart at all. Most doubted that he had a soul.
But if he had no soul or heart, why then did he feel a racing of his pulse whenever he thought about her? Get a hold of yourself, man! He chided himself. She does not affect you any more than an enemy unseen or unheard from. It is simply the nerves that get you like this!
He stayed in that position for most of the night. And so, when dawn broke, he was in a foul mood. He bathed shortly thereafter then went down to the courtyard for a breath of fresh air.
* * *
Hermione woke up to a slight rustle of a skirt. She woke, but did not open her eyes. She tried to listen to the sounds around her and see if she was dreaming or it had all been true. She heard nothing. And so, she finally opened her eyes.
"Good morning, my lady." Said a kind-voiced, elderly woman who Hermione assumed to be the housekeeper or castle-keeper, for that matter.
Hermione blinked once or twice before slowly pulling herself up into a sitting position. She turned to the kind woman and smiled. "Good morning to you too..."
"I'm Mathilde, my lady. Lord Draco's servant. He has told me to keep an eye on you today." Mathilde answered.
"Oh, well, thank you, I think..." Hermione smiled then looked around and gasped. She was in one of the most beautiful rooms she'd ever seen, medieval or not. The huge four-poster bed was draped with white, crisp linen that gave a sort of light and airy feeling. Although the walls were made of stone, the huge window on the left of the bed provided enough light for the whole room to be bright and inviting. Hermione also noticed that a fire was burning in the fireplace.
"Oh dear!" Mathilde suddenly exclaimed, making Hermione remove her eyes from her beautiful surroundings and back to Mathilde. "You must be hungry, my lady... Forgive me. I will be back with your breakfast." And she was off before Hermione had a chance to say anything else.
Hermione then smiled at Mathilde's sudden departure. She took the time to examine the room more closely. She took quick note of the architectural layout, marveling at how innovative medieval people were, despite the beliefs of her history professors during her school days. Hermione shook her head, thinking about the time when her professor made a comment about the Middle Ages, saying that they were uncivilized and barbaric. Maybe he should have come here, instead of me, and they'll make him eat his words! Hermione thought gleefully.
She was about to get up from the bed and proceed to look outside the window when the door to her room suddenly opened. In went Mathilde, carrying a bed tray and Hermione's breakfast... and a look that reprimanded her in an instant.
"Oh no, my lady, my lord had ordered me for you not to leave that bed and I intend on following him." She scolded as she neared Hermione and deposited the tray of Hermione's lap.
Hermione chuckled at the woman. Mathilde then smiled at the genuine laugh that Hermione have her, thinking that it was the first time that she heard a woman's laugh in quite some time.
"Eat now, my lady. Otherwise lord Draco would be most unpleased."
"Oh, Mathilde, I would mean no disrespect to lord Draco, but really, I don't think I have to be watched over like a little child. Especially by him." Hermione said, her eyes twinkling.
"Oh? Then would you explain to me why you felt the urge to faint yesterday?" A voice asked. This was no servant talking. It was lord Draco himself.
Hermione turned toward the sound and found him leaning on the doorway, hands crossed over his chest and watching her intently.
"My lord." Mathilde greeted, and promptly bowed. Hermione simply watched, not knowing what to do. Should she bow? Should she acknowledge him? Good heavens, where was a book about medieval manners when you need one?
And so, she simply dropped her eyes, unable to do anything else.
"You may leave, Mathilde. I wish to speak with our guest." Draco said, lifting himself up from the doorway and walking towards the bed.
"Yes, my lord." Mathilde said, bowing once again and leaving the room, closing the door behind her. Once she was out however, she looked back at the closed door and wondered who this woman was... and why was lord Draco acting so strange?
"Good morning to you, fair maiden. I trust you slept well?" He asked smoothly.
"Yes, thank you." Hermione answered. Draco dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and seated himself. His gaze never wavered.
"Forgive me, but, you should be eating right now. You're weak and fatigued." He drawled. "Unless, you need to be spoon fed."
Hermione did her best not to fully lash out on him. How dare he! How dare he assume her current state was, just because she fainted yesterday! If he thinks that just because a woman faints, she's weak for life, then I'm about to show him what I'm really made of! She said to herself in grim determination.
She glared at him and he simply raised an eyebrow. "I can feed myself, thank you very much." She said curtly.
"Indeed." Then he was silent. She looked at him, expecting him to continue. He just continued to look at her innocently. "Well? Aren't you going to eat?"
Hermione was dumbfounded for a moment. What was he playing at? He was going to watch her as she ate? Well...! She took long deep breaths to get her temper under control. He wasn't lying before when he told her to keep her temper in check, she was very hot tempered.
And so, she picked up her spoon and ladled her broth. She blew on it a few times before she placed it on her lips. The broth was delicious. She smiled then continued to eat.
Draco was merely observing her. He continued to watch her as she ate, blowing at times when the broth was too hot. He let his eyes travel down to her body, clothed in his mother's favorite nightgowns. He was tempted to smile at the memory of his late mother, who used to hug and kiss him when he was but a small child, scared of the nightmares that haunted him in his sleep. But that temptation was quickly put to an end, for his guest had spoken.
"You know, it is quite rude for man to simply watch a woman eat." She said nonchalantly. She looked at him.
"I am merely making sure that my guest is well fed and nourished." He replied.
"Oh." Hermione said sarcastically. "Well, there must be some other reason why you chose to grace me with your presence."
"There is... but wouldn't you rather finish your food?"
"I think I am done, thank you."
"Well then, if you would permit me..." As he rose up from the chair and neared her. He then bent down slightly. Hermione did not know what he was about to do. She stiffened and watched him like a hawk.
He was bending down and now he was reaching out toward her. Hermione's heart raced, wondering still what he was meaning to do.
Is he going to kiss me? She asked herself as she watched him. He was close enough for her to smell his scent and drown in it. He was looking at her straight in the eye and she was lost in the color. He was still reaching out, Hermione expected him to take her hand and pull her towards him...
But, she was left humiliated and ashamed at her own thoughts when he merely grasped the bed tray and lifted it off her. Then, he turned and placed the tray on a nearby table. After that, he sat back down on the chair.
Hermione let out an irritated breath. Damn him!
But when she looked at him, he wasn't laughing or even smirking. He was simply looking at her with an innocent expression on his face. Obviously, he didn't mean to humiliate her, merely removing the impeding bed tray so she was comfortable. Hermione scolded herself harshly for letting her mind make a fool of her.
"Are you alright? You look pale..." He brought up.
"I'm fine." She said quickly. Not meeting his gaze, lest he would notice another color other than pale that showed up on her face.
"Very well, can I know ask you a few questions?"
Oh no, the inevitable question and answer... But she nodded.
"Good. Why did you faint yesterday?"
Oh trust him to be blunt and straightforward! Hermione thought. "Well, I was shocked."
"Why were you shocked?"
"Because of the year..."
"Why should you be shocked of the year?" There was something in his eyes, amusement, Hermione concluded.
She took a deep breath, wondering if she should tell him. She was longing for answers as well. One question being: how was she able to travel to the year 1375 when just yesterday, she was getting ready for her wedding in the year 2003?
"If I tell you the truth, would you promise one thing?" She looked at him, her eyes pleading.
Draco had no choice but to agree to her plea. One look at her face and he found himself wishing that he could make right whatever was wrong. He wanted to scowl at his thoughts right then and there, but figured that Hermione would get the wrong idea. And so, he kept his face impassive.
She took another deep breath. "Would you promise never to accuse me of something I'm not?"
He looked at her hard. Then he nodded, that damn feeling was back and he had no choice but to agree with whatever she wanted. Damn! He thought as he waited for her to tell her tale.
"Thank you."
"The tale?" He prompted.
"Yes, I was getting to that..." Hermione paused and recollected her thoughts. "My name is Hermione Granger, daughter of Robert and Anne Granger. I am 24 years old."
She looked at him and he nodded for her to continue.
She took another deep breath. "Draco..." She called and he looked up, surprised. No one had ever called him by his name alone before, it was of mixed emotion when she said it. But, she paid his look of surprise with no mind other pressing matters were in her head. "Please do not interrupt me, no matter what I say... please do not interrupt me."
"I won't." He replied. She looked at him gratefully.
"Before you found me, or rather, when Sir Goyle found me, I was not in your time... Before he found me, I was not in the year 1375... I was in the year 2003." She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her lips together, expecting him to shout and yell at her. When a few moments passed with silence, she slowly opened her eyes and relaxed. Then she looked at him.
He was looking at her. And he was leaning forward. His eyes were looking at her in confusion. But he kept his promise when he refused to speak, even when a million questions were racing through his mind.
"I was born in 1979..." Hermione continued. "For the most part of yesterday, I was in the year 2003. But then, I was whisked away to here... I don't know how I came here..."
"Might I ask you something?" Draco spoke up.
"Go on."
"Are you mad?!" He exclaimed, rising up from his chair.
"No! I don't know how I came here. But what I'm telling you is true! I'm from the future and I came here!"
"No... It is simply impossible..."
"I know it's impossible! You think I believe in time travel? Well, I don't, I never did until now, until it happened to me!" Hermione retorted, her voice rising.
"What proof do you have? What proof can you give for me to actually believe that I am here talking to a woman who claims she's from the future?!"
"Look at my clothes, the dress I was wearing yesterday. Look at my shoes!" Hermione pointed out, she was getting close to tears. She then reached toward her right ear and plucked her diamond earring. "Look at this" She said, handing the jewelry out to him. "You will not find any jewelry like that in here!"
He inspected the earring closely. It was true, what she said, that there was no piece of jewelry like this in the land. And it possible that she might be from the future... but, like true Malfoy fashion, he refused to believe it.
"You expect me to believe that you are from the future just because of a few things?" He asked her, handing back the earring.
Hermione stared at him in disbelief, then lost it. "What more do you want?!" She cried out. The tears were threatening to spill out. "I am here, all alone... my parents are probably beside themselves out of worry! I have nothing and I don't what to do..." And with that acceptance of her helplessness, the tears began to flow.
Draco stiffened, he had not expected tears. He did not know how to comfort a crying woman... hell, he didn't know how to comfort at all. But she was crying... and it was up to him to pacify her. Taking a deep breath, he walked nearer her, reached out and touched her arm.
"Don't cry... I'll believe you." Draco said immediately regretting the words, but he had no choice. She quieted for a moment, then lifted her head. Draco's breath caught but he refused to show it.
Hermione smiled up at him through her tears. "Thank you."
He nodded, then removed his hand from her arm. "Go and get some rest..."
"Okay."
He didn't know what the word was exactly, but he had a feeling it was a form on saying yes. And so, he went towards the door and opened it. As he was about to step out, he was hindered by a soft calling of his name. He looked back and saw her laying on her side, watching him leave.
"Thank you, Draco." She said.
"You're welcome, Hermione."