"Don't open it," Draco said, drawing Hermione's attention from the beige envelope in her hands.
He wasn't looking at her. His gaze was clearly still scanning the bold red ink sprawled across the front: "INMATE CORRESPONDENCE – FOR LUCIUS A. MALFOY #32348." He looked furious in a way that she hadn't seen him look in a while, and even then, it was a look that she'd only seen on his face a few times – when he'd been staring down Seamus after his magical explosion and when she'd hit him a month ago. His jaw was clenched tightly, the muscles in his cheek standing out sharply on either side of his face, and his entire body seemed tense, taut and shaking in anger.
"Don't open it," he said again, looking up at her now, and there was more than anger in his eyes. Fear, perhaps? But she wasn't sure what he could be afraid of. Not only was she entirely too curious to leave the letter unread, but after all that she'd learned from Nicola about Lucius, she hoped that maybe he would surprise her in the same way Narcissa had. Maybe his words would surprise her and Draco both. But the expression on Draco's face said he didn't want to give him the opportunity.
"Draco," she began, as tentatively as possible, "I think I–"
"Please," he said, barely above a whisper. She'd only heard that sound from him once, when he'd been in the middle of a nightmare, begging whatever demons he'd been facing in his dreams to stop, and the word on his lips now, laced with pain and worry from what may lie inside of the letter in her hand, made her pause.
She knew how hard it was to be vulnerable with anyone, and just asking that of her now must have been difficult for him. He hadn't moved at all; his eyes remained focused, and he seemed to not even be breathing.
"Okay," she said, and he let out a shaky breath as she walked over to the waste basket beside her desk and dropped the letter inside. "Okay." She said it again, wrapping her arms around him and sinking into his chest. Slowly, he began to relax again as he lifted his arms to wrap them around her. With her head against his chest, she rubbed her fingertips up his back trying to bring him back to the state he'd been in when they entered the room… well, perhaps not exactly that state, but definitely closer to calm than the powder keg he currently was.
He swallowed and then began to speak, his voice back to his normal cadence after the soft, urgent 'please' he'd uttered before. "I'm sure whatever he has to say to you won't be pleasant." She could feel the words rumbling through his chest, and she bit back what she wanted to say. Perhaps she was being naïve, thinking that like Draco and Narcissa, maybe Lucius was different too, but she thought maybe he deserved the right to be heard.
That's… ridiculous.
She wasn't sure where the thought came from. The idea that Lucius was deserving of anything other than a life sentence in Azkaban was insane… wasn't it?
She reminded herself of all of his wrongdoings – what he'd put Ginny through, forcing Tom Riddle's diary on her when she was only eleven, the way he'd watched as Hermione herself lay bleeding out beneath his own upturned nose, teaching his son all the horrendous lies he'd passed on to him, the way he'd beaten Dobby to a pulp…
He deserved this hatred from his son.
And yet, no matter how much she reminded herself of all the things he'd done wrong, her eyes were drawn to the letter peeking out of the top of her rubbish bin.
Draco had excused himself shortly after, and Hermione had tried to force herself to burn the letter. It would've been easy; one flick of her wand, and it would go up in flames.
But she couldn't do it. Even now, in the middle of mucking out the stables, her mind was drawn to it.
She finished up her chores fairly quickly, now that she had the benefit of her magic again, but if she went back to her room, she knew the letter would be there, calling to her like a siren. Why didn't I just burn it!?
Instead, she climbed up on the wooden beams of one of the stalls and swung her legs across to take a seat. Equuleus strode over to her, nuzzling into her hip, and she pulled an apple from her pocket. Using her wand, she sliced it into slivers and began handing them to him, scratching him beneath the ears like she knew he liked.
Of course, Narcissa would have told Lucius once she learned that Draco and Hermione were dating. She'd said she didn't disapprove, but that didn't mean she would have told Lucius the same really. Draco could very well be right. She imagined all sorts of derogatory comments, all the ways that Lucius Malfoy could try to convince her that she wasn't worthy of his son. Surely, they read the outgoing mail. He wouldn't be threatening her or calling her Mudblood if his letters were being read, would he?
But then, she heard Nicola's voice in her mind, "Lucius was once very different from the man you know, prior to his father handing him over to Voldemort on a silver platter." Maybe he'd written to say that he approved of her? Why did that idea make her feel happy at all? Who cared what Lucius Malfoy thought? Cursing her damnable eagerness to please everyone, she handed the foal his last apple slice.
Nicola had also said that he had believed in all the blood supremacy garbage though, so Draco was probably right. Wouldn't he be a better judge of whether his father could be trusted or not?
She growled to herself in frustration and hopped off the top of the fence, and just as her feet hit the ground, a voice to her left caused her to jump and give a squeak of surprise.
"What could this sweet guy have possibly done to make you growl at him?"
Hermione quickly turned to find Nicola walking into the stable as if her thoughts of the woman had called her here.
"Merlin, you scared me half to death!" she said, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Sorry. I finished my chores, and I got bored, so I thought I'd come help you." She looked around the stable, and noting Hermione's wand sticking out of her bun, she said, "But, you got out of this much easier than the rest of us." Nicola joined Hermione by the stall door and reached through the slats to stroke the foal's coat as well. "Why are you in here growling?"
Hermione pinched her lip between her teeth. She knew she could trust Nicola without a doubt, but she felt like she was betraying Draco somehow by sharing this with her. The side of her that cared so deeply for him that she never wanted to lose his trust made her want to keep it to herself, but the side of her that needed motherly advice wanted to ask for it.
Her need to speak to someone about it won out.
"Lucius wrote me a letter." If the situation wasn't so dire, Nicola's wide-eyed look of shock would have been comical, but as it was, she was too frazzled to laugh about it just yet.
When Hermione didn't speak again, too busy chewing on her bottom-lip, Nicola asked, "And?"
"And nothing. Draco… Draco asked me not to open it," Hermione said with a childish huff as she turned around, leaning her back against the wood behind her.
"Does he think Lucius will be rude to you?" Nicola asked, still looking shocked but now she seemed more confused than anything by Draco's behavior.
"I'm not sure what he thinks exactly. He just said that he was certain it wouldn't be pleasant." She told her everything, about seeing Narcissa and being convinced the woman was going to hate her but instead she'd been kind, about Draco and his mother's short spat and Draco's insistence on no longer speaking to his father, about their desire to be honest with one another and to have an actual relationship.
"Hmm," Nicola said, her brow furrowed, and her lips pursed in thought. "So, you burned it?"
"No, I threw it away in my room." Before she could discern the expression on her face, Nicola had grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her from the stable.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, falling in step with Nicola beside her.
"We're going to your room."
"Wait, no. We can't read it, Nicola. He was… he was very upset. I can't do that. He begged me not to open it. Nicola, stop!" It wasn't until Hermione grabbed her arm to stop her that the woman conceded.
"We aren't going to open it. I'm going to open it. If it's full of hateful bigotry, then we put it back in the garbage and move on. If it isn't, then you'll know." She began walking again, leaving Hermione standing alone for a second.
Hmm… The idea gave her pause, and she had to admit that it sounded pretty good. Having Slytherins around was becoming quite nice, actually. But, no, that's still deceitful.
"No, Nicola. I feel like I'm lying to him. I can't…"
"Shhh," Nicola said.
Hermione let out another growl, but this one was aimed at Nicola. Her and her stupid need for advice, and now the woman was dead set on 'helping.' As they made it inside, Nicola continued on her mission, and Hermione stopped pestering her when they walked past Parvati and Seamus playing Exploding Snap in the common room. Seamus never looked up, but Parvati lifted an eyebrow at Nicola's purposeful stride.
"Nicola," Hermione whispered as they turned the corner into their hallway. She just knew they were going to run into Draco, and there's no way he wouldn't know what they were doing. But without even pausing, Nicola barreled into Hermione's room and headed straight for the bin.
She pulled the letter out and started to slide her finger beneath the flap when Hermione said, "Nicola, please don't open that. He's going to–"
"Do you love him?"
Hermione's words died in her mouth, and she jerked back, blinking up at Nicola. Immediately, her mouth ran dry and she couldn't have spoken if she wanted to.
"Based on the lack of color in your face, I'm going to say you do. Does he love you?"
"I… I don't… I don't know." Why were words so hard all of a sudden?
"Hermione, if you want to have a relationship with him, then sometimes you're going to have to do what's best for him, even if that means making him angry. But," she dropped her gaze to the letter in her hand, one manicured nail still poised beneath the flap, "if you really don't want me to read it, then I won't." She sighed and stretched the letter out toward Hermione.
It was six inches away from her, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to take it. Her eyes shifted down at the letter, the waxed A of the seal gleaming up at her like a prize just waiting to be opened and back up at Nicola's face as she quirked one eyebrow back at Hermione.
Hermione fidgeted for a moment rocking from one foot to the other before the words poured out of her, almost without a thought. "Ughh, just open it." She dropped down on her bed in resignation, but as the sound of tearing paper filled the room, she couldn't help but look back up, watching the train wreck around her with dread rising up in her stomach like the tide, unavoidable, briny, and cold.
Nicola's eyes scanned back and forth across the page, flying over the words, and as she read, her eyes lost their determination and softened into grief. The pit in Hermione's stomach grew into a chasm. Draco had been right, and now she'd done exactly what he'd asked her not to do, what he'd begged her not to do, and it had all been for nothing.
Nicola sat into the chair behind Hermione's desk, her eyes still on the letter in front of her, and after a moment, she heaved a heavy sigh, finally bringing her gaze up to Hermione's. Somehow, the pained way Nicola was looking at her now, told Hermione all she needed to know about the hope she had for Lucius being as changed as his wife and son. Hermione dropped her face onto the bed, feeling like the worst person in the world and unsure of how she'd explain this to Draco. She couldn't not tell him.
Hearing the chair that Nicola had been sitting in screech across the floor, Hermione looked up and found Nicola on her feet. She dropped the letter onto the bed beside Hermione and gave her a comforting pat on the arm. "You should read it," she said, taking a seat beside her on the bed and pushing the letter closer toward Hermione.
Hermione looked up from where she lay, tears in her eyes at having deceived Draco, and she couldn't help but be confused. Surely, Nicola wouldn't want her to read it if it was hurtful, right? She sniffed and leaned up, glancing up at Nicola once more before picking the letter up to read it.
Miss Granger,
I'm certain that I'm the last person you ever expected to receive a letter from but let me assure you that you are the last person who I ever imagined that my son would be courting. We'll call it even, shall we?
I feel that despite the discomfort, it is best to just get on with it.
This may come as quite a shock to you, and my son if his lack of correspondence is any indication, but I deeply regret the part that I played in not only the war but also in the harm that was done to others in the process. I know that there is no way that I can atone for the blood on my hands, yours and Draco's included, but I would be remiss if I didn't try.
I can fully concede that my allegiance was lain at the feet of a madman, but please understand that every decision that I made, for better or for worse, I made to protect my family. I realize, however, that isn't much consolation for those I have wronged. I'm not trying to make an excuse for my behavior, but I am hoping that an explanation will at least allow you to see my reasoning.
With the Dark Lord watching my every move and threatening the lives of those I love, what choice did I have, Miss Granger? Still, over a year after the war, I do not have an answer for that question, and I'm unashamed to admit that I would likely make the same decisions if I could go back and relive those moments if for no other reason than because I still see no other way. Had I refused any of his orders, my wife and my son would have died. I would rather Draco hate me now, as I'm sure he does, than to have died because of me.
I do regret that my action, and inaction in far too many cases, led to the deaths of other people, and though I am sure you all consider me quite the monster, and rightly so I am afraid, please know that not a day goes by that I do not see the faces of every person who I have harmed, including your own.
I know it does not mean much, and it certainly does not erase the pain that you went through in my home, but I do hope you understand my sincerity. Though it was not by my own hand, it might as well have been, and I am sorry for what happened to you.
I wish I could say that I did not support the cause with which I was aligned, but, though I did not care for the Dark Lord, I did believe in the cause that I thought us to be fighting for. However, after quite a lot of reconciliation, I can now see the flaw in what I believed to be sound logic surrounding blood supremacy. It is clear to me now that what I thought to be true was merely the tool that the Dark Lord was using to obtain power. Not only did we mean nothing to him, but neither did the cause itself.
Can you imagine finding out that what you've believed in your entire life was nothing more than a façade?
It was my own stubborn pride that kept me from attempting to seek help, that and the fear that I would be discovered, and my family would suffer for it. I regret more than anything that I passed those same lies on to my son without question, and in doing so, he followed in my footsteps. Whether you can believe it or not, I never wanted to be a Death Eater, and I certainly never wanted that life for my son. Everything I had done up to that point had been to keep the Mark from his arm, and yet, I failed in that regard as well.
I tell you all of this not only because I want you to hear it, but also because I hope that you will share it with my son as well. Though I do not know you, I hope that my assumption is correct and that you will have at least opened my letter and read this far. Please, Miss Granger. I know that you owe me nothing, but I want nothing more than to earn my son's forgiveness. If I have to beg, then I am not too proud to do so. I thought I'd lost him during the war. I thought while I was in Azkaban the first time or during the Battle of Hogwarts when I could not find him that he was gone and that I would never again have the opportunity to tell him the things that he deserved to hear.
I can understand him not wanting to speak to me; that I deserve, but I need him to know that I love him and how proud I am of him. I regret that I cannot recall having ever said those words to him. I can live with him never wanting to speak to me again, but I cannot bear for him to not know how important he is to me. My selfish pride is what put my family in the middle of the war, but the only pride I have left comes from him and the man that he has become in spite of me.
- Lucius Malfoy
Hermione read the letter through three times, and with each pass the words began to bleed together, either from her quick scanning or the blur of tears clouding her vision.
This wasn't at all what she'd been expecting to find within Lucius' letter. But, if Draco and Narcissa had been any indication, Hermione knew she should have at least prepared herself for this possibility, for one more of them to completely surprise her.
Not only had he apologized to her, but he'd gone out of his way to tell her that he knew he'd been wrong both in the war and in believing in blood superiority. And even more so than that, he'd begged her to tell Draco that he loved him. In writing those words, Lucius had lain himself bare, for her of all people.
It was more jarring than any of the other surprising behavior from his son and his wife to be honest, and Hermione felt like her heart was being torn from her chest each time her eyes ran over 'I regret that I cannot recall having ever said those words to him.'
As she read the letter through one last time, she stumbled across 'Please, Miss Granger,' and she remembered that same 'please' coming from Draco less than a few hours ago. How was she supposed to tell him this? How was she supposed to share this with him when he had begged her to not even open it to begin with? She'd already determined that it wasn't her place to tell him all that Nicola had shared with her about Lucius. Now, Lucius had thrust her directly in the middle of their relationship, and she'd taken the bait.
She looked up at Nicola, who'd remained seated beside her the entire time she'd read, and opened her mouth, but she couldn't seem to form words. She was still in shock at Lucius' admission, and now she was filled with an all-consuming guilt; if she didn't tell Draco, she felt like she was depriving him of probably the only nice thing his father had ever said to him, but if she did tell him, she'd be inserting herself into his business, clearly overstepping, and that wasn't even touching the fact that she'd gone behind his back and done it.
She finally managed to speak, but the squeak that escaped her lips wasn't the question she'd been going for at all. She cleared her throat and forced herself to sit up, crossing her legs in front of her and clutching the letter in between them.
"Nic', what… what am I–"
Before she could get the question from her mouth, her door opened, and Draco took two steps into the room before noticing Hermione and Nicola sitting on her bed.
"Sorry, I thought you'd still be–" His eyes dropped to the letter in her lap before jumping back up to her face.
Hermione immediately stood, her foot tangling in the blankets beneath her long enough to cause her to drop the letter on the floor as she managed to get out to the bed. "Draco, I'm so sorry." He hadn't moved at all, but the moment her hand touched his arm, she watched as his Occlumency shields slammed down. His eyes turned to those of a stranger, and it was as if she'd been slapped. She hadn't seen him so closed off from her in the entire time they'd been here, and her heart jumped into her throat.
She started to apologize again, to own up to her mistake, to ask him to forgive her, to say anything to bring his guard down, to pull him back to her from the distance he was very clearly putting there between them, but before she could, he lifted a hand to stop her. Without a word, he turned around and left her room, not even slamming the door behind him as he walked out.
After a split second of hesitation, she ran out after him, but she only saw his back as he shut the door to his own room. Just as she reached out her hand for the doorknob, she heard it lock, the sound taking her breath and dropping a millstone into the pit of her stomach.
Her first instinct was to just unlock the door, to pull her wand from her pocket and blow it off the hinges actually, but she couldn't do that to him. He'd already asked one thing of her, and she'd denied him that. She'd taken the trust that he'd given her and doused it in kerosene. Obviously, right now, he wanted to be left alone; the click of the lock was evidence enough of that. As much as she wanted to talk to him, to explain both her actions and the contents of the letter, she had to give him that space. It was only fair.
With a heavy heart and steps like lead, she walked back to her room.
"Are you okay?" Nicola asked as Hermione fell down onto her back across the bed beside her, folding her arms across her face and trying not to cry.
"No. He… he doesn't want to talk to me."
Nicola sighed, and Hermione felt a warm hand close around her wrist. "I'm sorry, dear. Maybe I shouldn't have–"
"No, I wanted you to open it, Nic'. It's my fault."
"I think you did the right thing."
Hermione dropped her arms and sat up, looking at Nicola across from her. She didn't feel like she'd done the right thing. She felt like she'd hurt him beyond repair, and regardless of what the letter said, that was wrong.
But Nicola continued. "That letter was for you. He shouldn't have asked that of you, and that was an apology that you deserved to hear, no matter how it made him feel."
Logically, Hermione knew Nicola was right, but she didn't feel any better. She did think Lucius' apology was one that she deserved to hear, but Draco had so very seldomly asked anything of her. It wasn't fair of him to ask that, but it also wasn't fair for her to have gone behind his back to open it.
Nicola scooted closer to her and pulled Hermione into a hug. "He won't be angry forever."
He didn't show up for lunch. It'd taken everything she had not to go to his room as soon as Nicola left hers, but she knew she needed to give him the space he was clearly asking for even though it felt like it was physically killing her.
She'd never been good at getting the cold shoulder. Perhaps it was her proclivity toward breaking awkward silences even if that meant she was breaking it with even more awkward conversation. She wasn't good on her own, and in just that short period of time that he was angry with her, she began to realize just how much time she spent with him.
She tried reading, but she couldn't concentrate. She tried Occlumency practice, but her mind continued to drift toward him. She did take the time to write Harry, and even then, she had to fight the urge to tell him what Lucius' letter had said.
She rearranged all of her clothes.
She mopped her bathroom floor… without magic.
She was sure that he wasn't angry enough that he was planning to end things with her… well, she was mostly sure, but that thought still lingered. What if he felt like he couldn't trust her any longer?
As time for dinner rolled around, she half expected him not to show for that as well, but he strolled into the dining room seemingly without a care in the world. The fact that he never looked at her as he sat down was the only indication that he was still upset. Hermione's eyes met Nicola's across from her, and her soft shrug was the only response she received.
They sat as they always did, conversation going on around them as if nothing was wrong at all, and when she brushed her hand across his knee beneath the table and said his name, he turned to face her, and it felt like they were back to where they started all those weeks ago.
There was no Draco behind his eyes. His Occlumency walls were perfectly in place, no trace of the difficulty he'd had in shielding himself without the benefit of magic when they'd first gotten to The Willows.
She whispered just loud enough for him to hear. "Are you–"
"I'm fine, Granger."
She'd actually been asking if he was going to talk to her now, but the fact that he was using her surname and not in their normal jest-like manner said that perhaps not.
So, she tried her best to talk to Nicola or Dennis to her right, but it was as if a cloud was hanging over their end of the table. Draco was there, but he wasn't really. Inside of his own mind, he might as well have been absent from dinner altogether.
Hermione was scheduled to clean the kitchen before group, so she couldn't even follow him when he immediately stood and left the table when dinner was over. Nicola stayed back and helped her finish washing the dishes, so she rushed back to his room hoping to catch him before he walked down, but by the time she made it to his room, he had already left.
This was getting ridiculous.
She knew he was upset. He had the right to be upset. But he was acting like they were twelve, and slowly anger began to replace the regret she'd been feeling before.
Hermione tried pushing it back, knowing he had every right to be upset with her, but hadn't they agreed to talk about things like adults? Hadn't they agreed to share with one another what they were feeling? Yet, here they were in their first real fight and he was hiding behind his Occlumency.
By the time she made it to the group therapy room, everyone else had already arrived, and, of course, he didn't even look up when she entered the room.
Twelve, indeed, she thought, forcing herself not to roll her eyes as she took a seat and muttered an apology to Walt for being late.
Thankfully, the topic at group was enough to get her mind off the situation at hand, and Hermione was given some reprieve from her thoughts as Nicola shared how her visit with Daphne and Pansy had gone the day before.
Was it only yesterday that she and Draco had gone on their date? It seemed like everything had changed since then, and yet Hermione knew it hadn't really. They were just in a fight. Hadn't she and Harry and Ron had enough of those for her to understand that this wouldn't last?
And Nicola too had said that he wouldn't be angry with her forever.
While Nicola spoke, teary-eyed as she talked about a renewed relationship with her remaining daughter, Hermione felt another stab in her gut. She hadn't even asked Nicola how the visit had gone herself. That was likely what she'd come to the barn to talk about that morning, and instead of even asking, Hermione had begun talking about her situation with Draco.
What a friend I am.
As group came to a close, Hermione didn't get up and immediately run after Draco as she'd originally been planning since group began. Instead, she stayed behind to talk to Nicola, trying to apologize for not asking about it to begin with, but Nicola would have none of it.
After she and Nicola walked back toward their rooms together, Hermione took her time showering and getting ready for bed, trying to allow Draco the time to figure out whatever it was he was hiding from. She had no intention of sleeping alone. She'd given him the entire day. How much time did he need?
The longer she sat, waiting on him to come to her, the angrier she became. Finally, realizing that she was only making it worse by sitting and worrying about it, she stood with a huff and made her way to Draco's room.
Unsure of whether or not she should knock, she hesitated outside of his door for a moment. She shifted from one foot to another, chewing on the inside of her cheek before finally tapping his door.
After a second of waiting, she could hear him moving around inside and the door opened. His eyes barely met hers before he stepped out of the way and motioned for her to come in without a word.
Rude.
He took a seat back on the edge of his bed where he'd presumably been sitting before. A book with 'Foundations || Isaac Asimov'written along the spinerested open beside his pillow. Just as silently as he'd opened the door, he picked up his book and began reading again, and Hermione was reminded of the night in his tent when he'd first brought up whatever it was that they were doing together. Before that, he'd been ignoring her, just like he was doing now… like a child.
Hermione sat across from him, trying to decide how to handle this. Her first instinct had been to just turn around and leave, but wasn't that acting just as immaturely? She wanted to yell at him, to demand he talk to her, but that surely wasn't the right answer either.
The whole time she sat across from him, fighting an internal battle of whether to be childish or an adult – he'd clearly chosen the former – sitting in silence and pretending to read as if none of this was happening.
"Are you going to speak to me?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
"And what would you like to talk about, Granger?"
She could've screamed. He never even looked up at her as he turned a page.
She took a deep breath, attempting to quell the situation despite the urge to join in on his childishness. "I'm sorry."
That did seem to take him off guard slightly. His brow furrowed briefly, but just as quickly, he'd pulled his shields back down. "It's fine. We don't have to talk about it."
"Clearly, it isn't fine. I–"
"We're fine, Granger." His voice never wavered from that monotonous alien voice that wasn't his at all, and it both infuriated her further and felt like a stab to her chest with each word.
"Please don't do this," she said, hating herself for the way her voice quavered as she spoke. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
"I'm not doing anything. I'm just–"
"You're just pushing me away, Draco," she said, her voice coming out a bit louder than she'd anticipated. She wasn't yelling, but she was close; she could only take so much.
His resolve seemed to be slipping. His teeth were clenched dangerously.
"Just talk to me!"
"And what do you want me to say?" he asked. His words came out calm but the look on his face was anything but. She'd take this, the storm rolling in his eyes over the deadened walls of Occlumency any day.
"I want you to shout at me. Or tell me that you're angry! Anything! I don't want you to hide like a coward!" The moment it left her mouth, she regretted it. She hadn't even meant to say it in the first place. Hurt flashed through his face so quickly she could have imagined it as she covered her mouth with her hand.
He dropped his book on the bed beside him and turned, putting his feet back on the floor. For a second she thought he was going to stand, but he just sat there, his back to her as she realized how much she just screwed up.
Reaching her hand toward him, she said, "Draco, I'm–"
"I need you to leave," he said. His words back in that same dead voice tipped her over the edge, bringing the tears that had been dancing on the edge of her eyes crashing down, spilling them over and allowing them to fall down her cheeks.
"Please don't push me away."
"I'm really struggling to not say something that I'm going to regret right now. So, I need you to leave."
She wanted to reach for him. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and feel him beneath her.
But somehow this repressed anger, the way she could see the muscles in his jaw rolling as he just dismissed her from his room, this hurt worse than if he'd just screamed at her.
Without another word, fighting her own urge to touch him, she stood and left his room.
The only consolation was that he hadn't said it was over. He hadn't told her not to come back. He'd only said he needed some more time.
She could give him that.
Even though she felt like the cavern in her chest was growing wider and wider with each step she took back to her room.
She climbed beneath her sheets, knowing there was no way she'd be able to sleep without him.
When had she become so needy, so reliant on someone else just to be able to sleep in her own bed?
This couldn't possibly be healthy, could it?
It didn't really matter at the moment though. It was true that he hadn't ended things, but at the same time, with each passing moment, she'd convinced herself further and further that there was no way they could get past this.
Clearly, Slytherins tended to hold a grudge, if Pansy's hatred toward her was any indication. Granted, she'd eventually come around… to some degree, anyway.
But what if this was it?
Ron was no longer speaking to her. Harry was somehow afraid to speak to her. Ginny was likely just as angry as her brother. And now Draco too.
How had she become such a pariah, ostracizing herself from everyone she loved?
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the moon was high in the sky, shining through her window when she heard her bedroom door creep open, and before the blankets even lifted, she felt like she was falling, walls crumbling around her as she tried to hold it together. She knew this was all her own fault, but she couldn't hold in her tears as she felt the bed shift and Draco slide in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him.
She rolled over, burying her face in his chest, breathing in the comfort of his arms around her. "I'm so sorry," she said, trying to keep her voice from breaking.
"It's okay." He pulled away from her enough to be able to look at her, and she could just barely make out the way his brows furrowed in the moonlight, the way his eyes were shifting back and forth between hers. "It's okay," he said again.
"I… I thought…" How was she supposed to verbalize it, to admit to thinking that he no longer wanted her? It seemed silly now, thinking that one fight would be enough to push him away. Walt had said that it wasn't codependency to trust in another person, but right now, holding onto him and feeling like something inside of her was shattering simply because he'd been angry with her for a few hours, she felt like this couldn't be healthy.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said as he draped her thigh over his hip.
"I'm sorry," she began to say again, but he stopped her before she could continue.
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that of you to begin with. It wasn't fair. And I…I was being a coward." She tried to interrupt him, to say that wasn't true, but he continued over her. "It wasn't intentional. Every time I think I've gotten past all my own defenses another one will pop back up. I wasn't trying to push you away. I was trying to keep it together." He paused to take a breath, his hands brushing slow circles across her back. "I'm sorry that I hurt you."
She hadn't been expecting him to apologize. It seemed unfair really. She'd been the one to lie to him, to have broken his trust. Surely, she didn't deserve his apology.
"I really didn't mean to say that," she said, managing at last to stop her cursed tears. "I didn't think it through."
"It's okay. We don't have to talk about it now."
There were no more words between them; after admitting fault and seeking forgiveness, they lost themselves in one another before drifting off with only a few hours before the sun rose.