"Is this it?"
Harry Potter stood in the doorway of Hermione's room, holding her small overnight bag in one hand. He tousled his hair with the other.
Hermione knew it was difficult for him to see her like this. Who knew how many precious moments they had lost, that she had forgotten, all because of some idiot with a wand?
"Yes, that's all I have. He brought it the night they admitted me."
She flinched a little at the memory, one of her first since this all began.
Draco had come flying into the hospital, holding her bag awkwardly to the side as he clung to her, asking any healer who would listen for help.
He was absent today.
Apparently, they had decided that this would be easier for her. Draco, staying home to get the flat - house - manor - (she wasn't sure which) ready for her arrival. It was Harry's job to prepare her for it. To go back to her life and try to piece all the broken bits back together.
Hermione wasn't sure if she was ready.
She straightened her shoulders and turned towards Harry.
"Shall we?"
~*~*~*~
"A cottage?"
Hermione could not believe her eyes. It was gorgeous.
The little home had dark wood beams, light beige walls, and wonderful open windows. The front garden had a cobblestone path leading to the front door. The grass was specked with patches of flowers and small trees, magical and non, distributed in a way that caught the eye.
She glanced up at Harry.
"I live here?"
He gave a chuckle. "Live here? No, you dominate here. This place is like your own little sanctuary. It's all we can do to get the two of you out for the evening-"
He stopped suddenly. The air cracked with tension his words had brought.
How could she have forgotten? She did not live here alone.
She steeled herself, blocking out the pleasant yard, and walked up the path.
The big wooden door opened with ease. She stepped through.
The inside had the same beige shades mixing with the dark oak banners. A narrow wooden table with aconites laying prettily in a basket greeted them.
Harry led her down a small hallway.
At the end of it, they entered round sitting room, with plush armchairs and elegant reading lamps. The walls themselves seemed to be made of dark oak bookshelves, each filled to the brim. Hermione was drawn to them.
She ran her hand over the spines. Quite a few of these were from her own private collection -though, if she lived here, she supposed they should have been. Several more were books and novels she had dreamed of owning, including a first edition autographed copy of A History of Magic. Others she had never seen nor heard of. She presumed these were Draco's, though quite a few caught her eye.
"There are a lot more in the library. We just like to keep our favorites here on hand."
Hermione spun around. She had been so fixated that she hadn't heard him enter.
Feeling a bit self-conscious, she stepped away from the bookshelf.
"There is a library?" She asked.
Draco nodded, staring intensely at her. He seemed to be looking for something. A hint of recognition? The sudden acceptance of their situation? A complete relapse on her condition? Whatever it was, she knew he wasn't going to find it.
He, apparently, came to the same conclusion. He and Harry shared a look. Draco seemed to give a small nod, though it was so slight, she could have been mistaken.
Her blood began to bubble. This silent communication not only unnerved her, but it was also slightly irritating. She about told them to speak up if they had anything to say, but something in their expressions stopped her. They were sad enough, no need to get snappy over a glance.
She moved a few feet towards them, running her palm over the soft exterior of a chair. The tan fabric was met by the red and gold of a knitted blanket. She picked it up and gave a little gasp.
It was the lap blanket Mrs. Weasley had given her a few Christmases back. Gryffindor's lion stood proud in the center of a beautiful design.
She bring it to her chest, breathing it in, savoring this moment of familiarity.
Then it ended. Seeing the blanket, her books, even the aconite (one of her favorite flowers) all brought forward the realness of her situation.
She did live here, in this lovely cottage, surrounded by her most prized possessions, with her childhood enemy.
The air seemed to be sucked from her suddenly. She began hyperventilating. her body flushed with a feverous heat. Her legs gave out from under her.
Hermione collapsed on the hardwood floor, clutching the Gryffindor blanket in her hands.
Both men rushed forward. Draco got to her first.
He held her to him, rocking her back and forth like a child, as she struggled to breathe. His hand went to her hair, brushing the mass in slow even strokes. He mumbled soft words, though, in her panic, she did not understand them.
After a bit, her breathing evened out. Her eyes fluttered shut. Without realizing it, she had leaned into him, her head tucked comfortably under his chin. He nuzzled down into her hair, wrapping his arms to engulf her completely.
Hermione jumped up, the suddenness of the movement making her head spin. Or maybe that was the new ache on her crown. Her head had banged on his chin as she stood.
Draco's wide eyes met hers. He still sat in the floor, his arms open but empty. His grey eyes swam for a second.
Then the mask was in place. He stood calmly, as if nothing had happened, and walked back to the doorframe he had came from.
"I have a roast in the oven if you and Ginny would like to join us," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared.
Harry, still frozen by the chair, held an arm out to Hermione. She shook her head.
She did not want anyone touching her at the moment.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author's Note:Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter series. Those rights belong to JK Rowling. I am only borrowing her beautiful creations.
Hi, guys! I just wanna say thanks to the amazing amount of follows and favorites in such a short period of time! It really made my day! Also, I understand that Professor Bagshot died in Hermione's youth, but I thought it would be nice for Hermione to own an autographed copy anyways. I hope ya'll enjoy this bit!