Draco Malfoy stood protectively over Hermione, trying to rise her for bed. It was what she needed.
Ginny hugged Hermione tightly as she rose up from the floor. Still weak from the spell of the end-place pub, Hermione's body trembled with exertion. He was close. She must have smelled him, because she instantly fell back into his arms and curled into his shirt. Tears and snot wiped across his chest. He wrapped an arm around her to hold her close, keep her from falling.
The red head blushed. "Sorry. It must be the effects of Perdita still on her."
Malfoy was already used to Granger's presence against him. "It's fine. Let's just get her to bed."
He wanted her to feel better, and there was no way she'd clear her mind without sleep.
Against him, Hermione swung an arm over his shoulder and embraced him tightly. "Thanks for staying with me. I knew you would."
Malfoy rolled his eyes at Ginny's expression.
"Cool it. She's high. She doesn't know what she's saying"
"Well it sounds like she invited you over," Ginny stated. "Again."
He forced a resigned look. "Come on. It's Granger."
"High or not, she isn't one to say things she doesn't mean. I've never heard her utter any kind of untruth."
He'd been fairly acquainted with Granger by the time they met in the pub. Ginny spent the last five months talking nonstop about her. It was hard not to feel bonded with a woman he'd learned so much about. Intimately about.
Ginny hadn't lied when she said Hermione was a mess. That much was clear.
Only the truly lost souls were able to step inside Perdita. They were the ones welcomed inside, ladled with spells that kept them blissfully ignorant of the world as it passed by them. Their fates sealed to nothingness. Those who've given up, Magic or Muggle world.
Granger was the last person who belonged inside a place like that. It was more fit for his type.
He'd been one to hide there after the war ended as his entire life crashed down around him. The high was nothing like the despair of falling back into realization that none of the problems were gone. They were reality.
"Stop it, Weasley." He growled.
Ginny lifted a teasing brow. "It's your choice. But she's going to remember tonight when she wakes. If you aren't there, she is going to be all embarrassed and not want to see you again."
"Why would she want to see me again?"
"Why wouldn't she? You saved her from who knows how much wasted time at Perdita and you're friends. We're all friends with the same people now. It'll be awkward if you rebuff her and still come round for tea."
He shook his head. "She'll be a spitting alley cat when she wakes up. Hex me into oblivion."
The sound of his voice roused Hermione from her dazed manner. She peeked up at him through fallen curls and then lowered her head back to his chest. Her mouth mumbled but stopped in place of gentle breaths.
"Just stay." Ginny crossed her arms. "It might help her, you know."
He grew frustrated. "How on Earth is that going to help her?"
"Tell her about how you know about Perdita," she offered. "It might help her understand how to overcome her grief."
Grief. He knew that well. He saw many die, though not close to him, they were still known to him. Death was an awful, biting, gory affair. It wasn't clean. It left a sickening clench in the gut. He vomited each and every time he saw the Unforgiveable curse used against another.
His own father used the spell on many Muggleborns and Purebloods alike. Whoever stood in their way.
It was worse when his former professor was murdered atop his dining room table at the Manor, a place where generations of Malfoy's dined together. Where he sat every meal with his own parents. A dead body with a face he'd known.
Each time he pictured that woman on his table, he saw the face of a friend. Sometimes Daphne. Blaise and his empty open eyes. Theo with a mouth ajar, crimson dripped from the corner.
Then the thought of Ginny and Hermione atop his dining room table stopped him in his tracks. They were so new to him, friends of recent run-ins, not childhood buddies. But the way his stomach lurched as he saw the blood as it dripped down from their noses chilled him to the bone.
He had to protect them now. Losing them would destroy everything he'd worked for.
"Granger?" He shook her in his arms.
She stirred slightly. Her head raised. "Hm?"
"Do you want me to stay?" His eyes flickered over to Ginny. The attention of her spotlight eyes heated the back of his neck. "Ginny will sleep with you, if you want."
Hermione was roused by the idea. "But she doesn't smell like you."
There was a snicker. It came from Ginny. He narrowed his eyes.
"What if I give her my shirt to wear?" He asked Granger, whose eyes were now lazily opened.
"What if Cormac comes back?"
His eyes shot to Ginny with question. This time she retreated away from his gaze.
"Stay with me, Draco. Please."
Ginny and Malfoy both gasped lightly. His first name.
The way it rolled off her lips so sweet, honey and nectar. Draco could have kissed her that moment, taste that sweet goodness that always came out of her whether she meant it or not, but he swallowed back his scorched desire for the witch. It was wrong. She was not herself.
Draco agreed to say with her. "But first, why doesn't Ginny help you get out of these clothes?"
The determination across her brow spoke to just how much Hermione was a Gryffindor. Without a thought, she raised the shirt above her head and threw it at the floor. The black boots were kicked across toward Ginny's door.
"Done." She smiled proudly.
In a bra and a pencil skirt with hair in a sexy teased mess. Definitely not Granger.
He looked to Ginny for help who uncrossed her arms and told hold of her friend's hands. She kept her tone as calm as possible as she led her into Hermione's bedroom.
Draco Malfoy stood at a dilemma that plagued him greatly.
He wasn't supposed to be in bed with a witch. Especially one that was so convoluted with illegal spells. It was wrong.
Then there was the reality that he never stayed the night before. It was always a one-night stand kind of deal, slip out at midnight, take a shower and pray that she didn't track him down. They never did. He knew the ones that looked for an escape, momentary distraction. It was what he was after, too.
But this witch was Hermione Granger. She wasn't one that associated with his type of people. She was the Gryffindor Princess, the Know-It-All, Miss Perfect. What would she want with him?
Did he cuddle with her? Should he make her breakfast? It could very well be normal to sleep however long and just part with a hug. He did not know. And it was that unknown that panicked him.
"She's ready," Ginny said as she stepped back out of the bedroom.
Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair. The night was completely unexpected.
He'd come over after work to find Blaise and Daphne waiting patiently to watch the Muggle movies Hermione suggested. He made sure to confirm with her that morning with an owl, just to be sure he hadn't assumed an invitation because he was near. So, the three waited until Ginny trudged in late hours wondering where Hermione was.
Then came the search over London. He'd sensed that Perdita was closer than it usually was. The magical spell brought it very close to Hermione and Ginny's flat that night. He'd doubted that Granger would ever enter or even be able to see such an establishment, but nevertheless, he entered to soothe his mind. There she was.
"What the bloody hell is going on, Weasley?" He asked. "What's gotten into her?"
Ginny stiffened slightly. "It may come as a surprise to you, but not all of us ended up better after the war."
"I know," he growled.
Of all people, he knew.
"What's wrong with her?" He finally asked once the momentary anger subsided.
Ginny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "She's been numb since the war. I think it's finally caught up with her."
"Is that what this is? Her guilt? Asking me to stay over because she thinks she's a bad person like me?" He started to pace. Anger came again. It wasn't at her. It wasn't Hermione's fault she was at a breaking point. He just hated to be her fallback.
"Christ, you're thick. It isn't about you, Malfoy. She isn't attaching to you because of your past. I'd say she's doing it in spite of everything." Ginny sighed. "This right here, this episode, yeah? That's just from seeing Harry. Can you imagine what she's like when Ron comes around or Merlin forbid George? She's useless for days. Cries until she's dehydrated. Anyone from the old days does this to her."
Malfoy shook his head. "No. That can't be right. She knows me from the old days and, well, you saw her."
"You don't remind her of Fred, Malfoy. That's all that matters."
"You know this is wrong. I shouldn't be here…"
Hermione stumbled into the doorway clutching the frame with all her might. She looked distraught. Her hair was pulled behind her head. Good thinking since she'd probably be sick the next day.
She looked back and forth at her friends for a long while as silence drifted between them. Neither Ginny or he were going to speak with her there. It was too, personal.
Besides, knowing Ginny's big mouth, she'd say something entirely inappropriate that would make Granger feel bad or him feel mortified.
"He'll be in in a minute, Mione. Just go wait for him," Ginny stated, not taking her eyes off Draco.
He felt the turn of Ginny go back to her more memorable years at Hogwarts where hexes were not in short supply.
Hermione nodded, and turned back around and hobbled into the room. She looked barely fit to stand. Draco stepped to assist then Ginny put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
"Malfoy, you've been in love with her for like seven years I'm told. Even if it wasn't true back then, I can see it is now just by the look on your face," she explained evenly. "Don't throw away a chance with her because you love to punish yourself. Only so much misery can come to one person. She's at that point, too. She's punishing herself for being happy just as you are. Now go in there and stop being a bloody stubborn fool."
Draco wanted to fight. He was ready to reach for his wand and dare her to say it again. There was no glint of satisfaction within her blue eyes. He searched for any inclination she was trying to hurt him, but there was none.
She was trying to help.
No matter. He couldn't hurt her. She'd shown in compassion when all other booed him in the streets and hexed him for fun. Ginny Weasley showed no bit of aggression toward him from the beginning, and she had gotten nestled under his skin in that same blasted hole where Blaise and Daphne and Theo all sat.
"Fine," he said, without much conviction.
It was a lie; he wanted to stay. He wanted Hermione to want him to stay.
He entered the bedroom in soft foot falls, closing the bedroom door behind him with a subtle latch.
The still of the room was awkward. He wasn't sure if Granger was awake. The size of her bed was narrower than his. Must be a double. That would make their proximity very close.
A lump surfaced at the back of his throat. What if she hated him when she woke?
There was a soft hum. It came from the figure on the bed, sprawled on her back chin tilted to the ceiling. She looked frozen. Draco suddenly lurched. His fingers held one ankle and shook it.
"Granger?" He whispered.
"Hm?" She answered back.
He saw the outline of her through shadow. The small rise of her breasts down to a plateau of stomach, thighs parted slightly, knees bent gently against the cushion of her comforter. The slick gray of moonlight filtered in through an open window. Frigid air blew through. It caressed her flesh. She gasped as it stung her face.
Draco shut the pane and walked back to the bed.
He felt her forehead. "Are you alright?"
Her head nodded under hand. It was good enough for him. He sat on the other side, unlaced his shoes with meticulous fingers and startled when he saw Granger beside him, watching him work.
It was ghostly to see her so sallow and sickly. The hue of the night gave height to her pain. Through her smiles and polite conversation, the sadness never showed in her eye. Tonight, it danced there in swirls.
"How do you do it?" She asked gently, touching his shoulder.
Most were not so familiar with him right away. He knew she was the same way. It was odd to feel her grasp at his body without thought as if she knew the comfort she'd find and welcomed herself to what he offered, even though he hadn't.
"Do what?"
He lined his shoes together. Socks in each one.
"Be so put together," she answered. Her voice was soft as a whisper. "Never lose your edge."
He smiled. That was easy. "I was raised to have a good front."
One moment she'd been next to him, the next she was gone. Behind him, she had her head laid against a pillow hand on the space next to her like an invite.
Malfoy sucked an intake of breath. He could do this. It didn't have to mean anything. She needed him. It wasn't his choice to leave.
But he knew what it meant if he stayed. Trouble. It would be more trouble for him in the long run.
"I won't hex you." Her voice flowed up from the bed.
Draco's brow knit together. "What?"
"I won't hex you. I promise."
"I'm not sure you'd be fast enough to hex me," he said with a smile. "Not in this condition, at least."
She sighed softly, directing her attention to the window. This allowed Draco to slide in next to her without feeling so uncomfortable. It was a personal moment after all, to spend a night in a witch's bed, and he was growing more uneasy as the scene felt relaxed. At least if she tried to hex him, it'd feel like always. How she responded to his presence.
Now, it was new territory.
He laid beneath scratchy cotton sheets in tight restraint. Stiff as a board. That was, until Hermione rolled over and placed her cheek against his shoulder. Her breath was sticky sweet when she exhaled. An arm swung over across his chest and held his side with a gentle squeeze.
She snuggled closer. Nose now close to his neck.
"This feels nice," she hummed happily.
Draco felt a strong blush rise to his face. He cleared his throat in attempt to rid the heat.
"Oh, well, it satisfies that basic human instinct for closeness if that's what you're referring," he said stiffly.
"Even statues need this," she quipped. "You are not immune."
He smirked. "Someone is coming out of their high. Welcome back to the world, Granger."
"You smell so nice. I want to crawl inside your shirt and live there where its warm and safe."
It wasn't his habit to startle when he was surprised. Honestly, most things didn't surprise him. People had their motives so clear and selfish or so dedicated and morally right, but they always did things that were unsurprising.
Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was a shock in he'd ever seen one.
"Perhaps not," he pondered aloud. "That spell must have been much stronger than I suspected."
"Don't you like this? A person, alive next to you. Beating pumping screaming life so that the dark void doesn't seem so bad?"
Whoa. She was dark.
He pulled her closer to his chest. "Close your eyes. In the morning, it won't seem so bad."
Warmth spread through his chest as she snuggled in against him, comfortable and breathing softly. She was content. Not scared. Not sick.
"Draco?"
There was that lovely sound. His name in her voice.
"What is it?" He asked with a sigh.
Merlin, he was a weak man.
"Will you be here when I wake?"
He took a moment. "Yes. Just go to sleep and I'll be here all night."