{ 8 }
The sky was not as clear as the day before. Clouds were moving in. The scent of rain was in the air. I leaned forward, increasing speed as I cut through the thick humidity.
Flying was the one thing I could always count on to help me clear my mind. As I pushed myself harder, the events of the morning streamed through my mind. What I said. What I did. What I should have done instead. It was all there, being sorted and cataloged while I zig zagged through the quidditch stands.
In the end, I had no solutions and few regrets. A few things stood out to me, though.
First, the shock I had felt when Theo called her a m…mud…well, you know. In all my years, I don't remember him ever using that word before. Why would he choose to use it now?
Second, the sheer panic I felt when it was clear Hermione was going to opt for expulsion rather than therapy sessions. I understood why she did not want to talk about the war. I never thought anything short of death would keep her from graduating, though. There is still something distinctly disturbing about a world where Granger was not a fully qualified witch.
And last, the fire in her eyes when she told me that I am not a coward. That I am a survivor. She was so convincing that I almost believed it.
I flew until the muscles in my arms and legs began to ache. Only then did I set down on the pitch. The doors to the Slytherin locker room opened as I approached. The room itself was empty, which suited me just fine.
I locked the bathroom door and stepped under the hot spray of the shower. My thoughts were still in turmoil, but instead of thinking about what had happened, I was thinking about what would happen next.
Two days ago, Theo was onboard with a relationship between myself and Hermione. Now, I don't know what he is thinking. Or if he was really as okay with it all as he seemed. That unsettled me more than anything else did.
I returned to the castle with every intention of finding him and finding out what the hell had happened this morning. Before I could make it to the common room, I was stopped by a fifth year with a message from McGonagall.
Mr. Malfoy,
Come to my office immediately.
Headmistress McGonagall
Straight to the point.
I stared at the note for longer than necessary.
Fuck. What fresh hell is this?
I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling. Nothing good could come of this, I'm sure.
With a deep breath, I changed trajectory and made my way back upstairs to the headmistress' office. The statue moved aside as soon as I stepped in front of it. I just stared at the doorway for several long heartbeats.
McGonagall was seated at her desk, much the same as she had been earlier that morning. If possible, she looked even more tired and frail than she had that morning. She appraised me for a long moment.
"Do you know where I might find Miss Granger?" She asked finally.
Surely that isn't why she summoned me to her office.
"Why? Do you want to threaten her again? Maybe manipulate her into doing something else she doesn't want to do?" My lip curled up in a sneer and I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why don't you just summon her like you summoned me?"
She sighed and rubbed her temple.
"As much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Malfoy, you were right. I'd like to apologize to her."
Well good. She should apologize.
"Also, that is not why I asked you to come to my office. You have a visitor."
I stopped moving. A visitor? Who? Why? Someone from the Ministry? I swallowed the lump in my throat. I couldn't breathe. Did she report my outburst this morning? Oh Gods. Could they revoke my parole?
"Am I being expelled?" I asked quickly. If so, I would rather just know about it up front.
She raised her brow and her lip tilted up on one side.
"Not today, Mr. Malfoy."
Relief coursed through me. My shoulders visibly dropped and I took a deep breath. I was so certain she would tell me yes.
She seemed amused by my reaction. I did not think it was funny at all.
"She told me you were expecting her.
You may speak with your Aunt in private." She motioned to a door I had not noticed before. "When you are finished, there is another door that will take you to the hallway."
My Aunt. Andromeda was here already? I did not expect her to come so soon. I'm not prepared for this. What am I supposed to say to her?
I moved towards the door slowly. Before I turned the door handle, I looked back at McGonagall.
"She was on her way to the library the last time I saw her. That was a few hours ago now."
She nodded in understanding.
I didn't give myself another chance to overthink before opening the door and stepping through to a large sitting room.
Andromeda Tonks had long, dark hair with gray streaks throughout. She could not deny Bellatrix as her sister, but her face was kind rather than cruel. She smiled when she saw me.
"Draco. You do look like your father, don't you?"
I raised my brow. At one point in my life I wanted to resemble my father. I wanted to be just like him. That time had long passed.
"Andromeda. You look a lot like your sister, Bellatrix." I raised my brow.
She laughed.
"Obviously looks can be deceiving. I take it you had the pleasure of meeting my psychotic sister?"
An involuntary shudder passed through my body. It was strong enough that she noticed. The smile fell from her face.
"Yes. I can see that you did know her."
I cleared my throat.
"Unfortunately, yes. She lived with us for a short time."
Not short enough.
"I am sure you have questions. Please, join me for tea." She motioned towards a small table in the corner that had been set with a tea service, sandwiches and various sweets. I sat down across from her.
"I have to admit, the information I've gathered on you over the years is spotty at best, and not from very reliable sources. I had you pegged as a pureblood supremist. I have to apologize for that judgement."
I snorted. Tea almost came out of my nose. I wondered who her sources were, because they were pretty damn accurate up to a year or two ago.
"Don't apologize," I told her. "I believed it. All of it."
"What changed?" She asked. She poured a cup of tea and added two sugars.
I took a deep sigh and ran my hand through my hair. That was the question, wasn't it? What had changed? Why had I stopped believing in everything my parents had taught me?
"I saw first hand how superior purebloods really are." I pushed away my plate with a half finished chocolate tart. "I started asking questions and looking for answers that made sense."
"And you started to realize that the answers you had been fed your whole life had no basis in reality." She finished for me.
"Exactly." She got it. She understood, just as I had expected she would. "When I was eleven, I asked my mother if muggleborns were just witches and wizards with the same magic as us. She told me that her sister, Andromeda, had started to trust a muggleborn wizard. And that he had murdered her and stolen her magic."
She looked down at her plate sadly, but did not seem surprised by the revelation.
"Obviously I am not dead," she gave a sad smile. "I have to ask. Do your parents know that you are questioning their beliefs of pureblood superiority?"
This woman, whom I just met, had more concern in her voice than I had ever heard directed towards me. From anyone. It sent a tendril of warmth down my spine.
"Well, I have not been disinherited yet, so I'm going to say no, they are not aware." I smirked at her as I leaned back in my seat. "And I'm well beyond questioning. Their beliefs are hippogriff shite. I'm done with all of it."
She raised her brow and tapped her fingernails on the table.
"You can sit there and be flippant about this, Draco, but you must realize that they will disinherit you. As soon as they find out you are sympathetic to muggleborns. You will be labeled as a blood traitor."
Ice ran through my veins as she bluntly told me what I could expect to happen next. I had thought about it already, of course. To hear it from someone that had been through it made it seem more real, somehow. More plausible that my mother would cut me out of her life completely, just as she had her sister.
I ran my hand through my hair before meeting her gaze. Her eyes were a warm brown color. So different from the ice blue of my mother's or the pitch black of Bellatrix.
"What do you think they will do when they find out that my girlfriend is muggleborn?"
Her eyes widened and she audibly gasped. She muttered something under her breath that I did not catch.
"I certainly did not expect that." She took a deep breath. "Now I understand why you thought we had a lot to discuss. I thought it was because you were starting to question the pureblood ways and you wanted a different perspective. That isn't it at all, though, is it?"
The look she gave me then could only be described as proud. She was proud that I seemed to be following in her footsteps.
"Does she know?" Her eyes darted to my arm. The dark mark hidden under my shirt sleeve itched uncomfortably. My fingers twitched, wanting to further cover the abomination in my skin.
"She knows." I thought about our conversation earlier. About how she was more convinced than I was that I had atoned for the past. My lip quirked up on one side. "She knows damn near everything."
She leaned back in her chair and appraised me.
"You should start making preparations for the inevitable, if you have not already."
I selected another chocolate off the tray and popped it in my mouth. For some reason I thought of Hermione's green duffle bag with enough supplies to survive six months in the wilderness.
Did she mean I needed a duffle bag of my own?
"You haven't thought that far ahead, yet. Have you?" She shook her head and chuckled. "I didn't either. I was in love. What else could I possibly need? Oh I was so young and naive. Money. Food. Shelter. All the things you lose when you are disinherited. You need a plan, and you need to start now before they can cut you off completely."
I hated to admit it, but she was right. I hadn't thought of any of those things, but I certainly need to.
"Right. I'll work on that."
My mind was already spinning. Where would I live if I couldn't go back to the Manor? Did I want to go back to the Manor?
A shiver ran down my spine. No. I never want to go back there. I assumed that would be my fate, to live in that house of horrors for the rest of my life.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Andromeda had been watching me. I don't know what she saw on my face in that moment, but her tone was soft. I nodded once and she continued. "This girlfriend. Is she the love of your life? The one girl you want to spend a lifetime with? Or is she a fling? A girl you know will take the piss out of your father, but nothing longterm there?"
I tilted my head to the side as I considered her question. I would not say I'm in love with Granger. I'm surprised we can spend time in the same room without killing each other, so a lifetime together might be a stretch.
Probably.
Maybe.
Saying she is a fling or a passing fancy doesn't feel quite right either.
Andromeda was still watching me.
"I'm not about to propose marriage or anything," I answered awkwardly. I rolled my eyes and finished the tepid tea in my cup. "Hell, last week we were still mortal enemies."
Her lip tilted up on one side. She reached across the table and placed her hand over mine before I could pull it back. My body tensed. My other hand curled into a fist under the table. I didn't breathe until she had squeezed my hand in what, I'm sure, was meant to be a comforting gesture.
She seemed to recognize my discomfort and pulled her hand back.
"I want you to know that you are welcome at my house, Draco. Anytime. Your girlfriend, too." She smiled at me, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I will help you however I can."
I crossed my arms over my chest. Where was she two years ago when I was being branded? When I was coerced into attempted murder under threat of torture? When I was beaten and attacked in my own home? My lip curled up in a sneer.
"Why?" I had to ask. Why does she want to help me? What's in it for her?
"I'm offering what I never had. It's entirely up to you if you take it or not." She slipped a piece of parchment across the table. Her address and floo access were written in the same beautiful script as the letter she had written.
"It's an alternative, Draco. You have a choice as to what your future will look like. You are not alone. You have family that will gladly claim you, no matter which path you choose."
I stood and paced away from her. My hand still burned where she had covered it with her own. I rubbed at it absently as I crossed the room. I could feel my anxiety rising, clawing at my throat. I did what I usually do. I lashed out.
"Would you have gladly claimed me as family six months ago? A year? Where were you then, Andromeda?" I sneered at her. "Where were you when Bellatrix was trying to toughen me up? Or when I was a prisoner in my own home? That's when I needed someone to turn to. I don't need your charity now."
I turned to the door, ready to flee that room as quickly as possible.
"Stop, please." To her credit, she did not try to stop me physically. The pleading tone of her voice did stop me, though. "I tried."
I turned around quickly. She was lying. She had to be.
"When? Until a week ago, I didn't even know you were alive."
"Perhaps not. But I knew about you. When Bella escaped from Azkaban, I contacted Narcissa. I begged her to go into hiding. She refused." Tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away with a napkin. "I begged her to let me take you, to protect you from what was coming."
A cold chill settled down my spine. The escape was the beginning for me. If what she is saying is true, she tried to save me from all of it.
I sank into the armchair by the fire. My head dropped into my hands. Once again, my mother had been given an opportunity to save me, and she had failed.
I had to be honest with myself, and with my aunt.
"It would not have mattered." I shook my head sadly. "It wasn't until after Lucius was sent to Azkaban that I began to realize the truth. I would not have gone with you, then."
She sat down on the couch beside me. She was still crying.
"That's why I'm offering now."
I nodded in understanding. I get it. Truly, I do.
"Thank you." My words were barely more than a whisper. I was just…overwhelmed by her kindness.
She refrained from hugging me, although I think she wanted to. We sat in awkward silence until she stopped sniffling and I could breathe normally once again.
She leaned back on the couch and crossed one leg over the other. Then she clasped her hands together and tilted her head to the side.
"So tell me about this witch of yours. Did you say last week you were mortal enemies?" She had a mischievous glint in her eye.
The abruptness of the question made me huff out a short laugh. I leaned back in the chair as well and got comfortable.
"Yes, well, it's been a bit longer than a week since we were actually mortal enemies, I suppose. We've been rivals since first year, though." I can still remember her in Snape's class, waving her arm in the air to prove she knew the answer on the first day.
"You are not rivals any longer?" She smiled. I wondered how I had ever thought she looked like either of her sisters. Her smile is warm and friendly, not frigid or evil.
"Now it's more like it's the two of us against the world."
Wasn't that the truth.
By the time Andromeda left, it was nearing dinner. The afternoon was gone. It had been good, though. A little emotional and touch and go in places, but the conversation had flowed well. She seemed so genuine. She was genuine.
As refreshing as that is, I'm still not going to let my guard down around her. Not until I figure out her angle.
I decided to skip dinner and took a chance in the library instead. I had told Granger I would meet her there when I was done flying. That was hours ago.
She was still there, sitting at the table in the restricted session. A scroll of parchment at least a meter long was lying in front of her. She was writing away and did not look up when she heard the gate close behind me.
I sat down next to her and watched as she continued writing at a feverish pace. After several minutes, she put her quill down and flexed her hand. Then she flopped back in her chair. Her head hung over the back of the chair and she looked to the ceiling. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes.
"It's done." She told me. It was the first indication that she even knew I was in the room.
I hated to admit it, but I was curious to see what she had found. I might not believe in pureblood supremacy anymore, but I couldn't help but wonder how someone with no magical ancestors could develop magical aptitude.
"Go ahead. Read it."
I realized I had been staring at the scroll of parchment when her voice made me jump. I looked up and saw that she had sat up and was watching me.
She looked tired. Emotionally drained, the same as me.
"Are you sure?"
She shrugged her shoulder and rolled her neck.
"Why not?" She stood and stretched her arms over her head. As she did, her shirt lifted to reveal a strip of creamy white skin. I averted my eyes quickly, but could not help but notice what appeared to be a scar across her midsection.
When I glanced back, her arms were back down at her sides and her stomach was fully covered.
I picked up the scroll and found out that it was longer than I originally thought. It would take me hours just to read it. When had she found time to write that much?
"Do you want to give me the short version?" I teased as the roll unfurled itself, rolled off the table and onto the floor.
"I didn't peg you as the lazy type, Malfoy. I guess if you aren't capable of reading…" She teased right back. The laughter in her voice was a nice change from the rest of the day. She reached over to take the parchment away from me. I blocked her arm with my own.
"Who do you take me for? A Weasley? Of course I'm capable of reading." My hand slid down her arm and wrapped around her fingers. I tugged her a little closer. "Maybe I just like the sound of your voice better."
I cringed. I can't believe I just said that. That had to have been the cheesiest line I had ever heard.
"Very smooth," she laughed. A real laugh that filled the space with light if only for a moment. She squeezed my hand then settled back in her chair.
I smirked at her before leaning back in my chair to get comfortable. Her fingers were still interlaced with mine as I started to read her essay.
To answer the question, how do people born from non-magical parents develop the ability to perform magic, you must first answer the larger question - how does anyone develop the ability to perform magic?
I continued reading for the next hour. She wrote about muggle techniques for tracking genetic attributes that I had never heard of before. She sited several studies from the past century that showed nearly all so-called muggle-borns had magical lineage two to four generations back. Squibs that had married muggles, then had children that were non-magical. Their grandchildren or great-grandchildren would then be born with the ability to perform magic.
Only in extremely rare cases would a muggle-born witch or wizard be unable to trace their lineage to a magical family. In these cases, the aptitude for magical pursuits is very high. In fact, these witches or wizards tend to be extraordinarily powerful. It would seem as though their magick is undiluted. Pure.
I stopped and reread that paragraph again. Hermione shifted in her seat and laid her head against my shoulder.
I continued reading the acounts that she had noted of such witches throughout history, going all the way back to Morgana. Each witch she had noted contributed to the Wizarding world in the form of innovation and critical magical discoveries.
The invention of certain healing potions and spells. The advancement of protective spells and charms. The list went on.
Hermione emitted a soft noise. It sounded louder than it probably was and it distracted me rather easily. I glanced over at her only to find that she had fallen asleep against my shoulder. It could not have been comfortable, the way she was leaning over the arms of both of our chairs. Her hand was still clasped loosely in mine, while the other was curled up under her chin.
Her eyes darted back and forth under her eyelids. Otherwise, she looked peaceful, relaxed. I watched her for entirely too long. I memorized the freckles that speckled her nose. The red streaks in her hair. The phoenix that was inked into her arm that was tucked against her chest.
She muttered something in her sleep and released a deep sigh before curling further in on herself.
The parchment in my hand was all but forgotten as the scent of strawberries and vanilla swirled around me. I could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat pounding against my arm. Lulling me into a sense of security.
For a moment I let my cheek drop to rest against the top of her head. My eyes shut and I breathed in the scent that was distinctly Granger.
I drifted. Vaguely I felt the parchment slip through my fingers before darkness settled in.
Consciousness crept back in little by little. I recognized the aroma of strawberries and vanilla first. Then the warmth on one side of my body, and a chill on the other.
Absently I moved my arm, reaching for the blanket to pull it over to chase away the cold. I did not find a blanket. Instead I found an arm pressed against my chest.
What the fuck?
My breath caught in my throat. My eyes snapped open and darted around the space quickly trying to ascertain the situation.
The room was dark. Moonlight filtered in through high windows creating shadows in the shape of bookshelves. The library.
I took a deep breath. I had fallen asleep in the library. Somehow I had shifted sideways in my chair. I remembered Hermione had leaned against shoulder. Now she was lying against my chest. My hand had been holding hers. Now it was resting on her waist. I let my other hand slide down her arm.
She moaned softly. I felt it throughout my whole body.
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. It is quite possible that Hermione Granger will be the death of me yet.
"Granger. Wake up." I shook her arm gently.
"No." She burrowed further into my chest.
I chuckled to myself. If we had been in the rooms on the third floor, I would have agreed with her. We were not, though. We were in the library, and by the darkness in the room it had to be after curfew.
And now that I was awake, I could appreciate how truly uncomfortable this position was. My neck and shoulder was killing me, and my leg was numb and tingling at the same time.
"Come on. Nap time is over." I ran my hand up and down her arm.
I knew the exact moment she became aware. Her whole body tensed. She stopped breathing.
"It's alright. You're safe." I spoke softly and lifted my hands off her arm and her waist.
She gripped my shirt and slowly pushed herself up. Her hair stuck out at odd angles. Her eyes blinked quickly as she tried to figure out where she was, what was going on.
"Malfoy?" Her voice was thick with confusion. "Oh Gods. I fell asleep?"
Her eyes darted around quickly. She sat back and ran both of her hands through her hair.
"What time is it?"
I stretched out the shoulder she had been lying on and rolled my neck. It popped loudly in my ears.
"No idea. I fell asleep, too." I admitted quietly. There were no other noises, no signs of life in the library aside from the two of us.
" Lumos." She whispered and the tip of her wand lit the space around us. She tilted her arm and read the watch that rested against her wrist. "Shit. It's after midnight."
I closed my eyes. We had managed to sleep without being disturbed for over five hours.
"How in the fuck did we do that?" I mumbled to myself, but she heard me. It was very rare for me to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time without waking up. I cannot even remember the last time I slept anywhere without wards set up either around the door or around my bed to alert me if someone comes near.
"I don't know. This is bad, Malfoy. This is very, very bad."
My eyes snapped up at the sheer panic in her voice. It is not ideal that we are both out in the open so long after curfew, but it isn't that big of a deal, either. We both have experience sneaking around the castle.
"It's some house points and a detention or two, at most." I rolled my eyes and stood, rolling my shoulder and neck one more time. I'm going to need a soak in a very hot bath to get rid of the kink in my neck.
"That's not what I mean." She hissed through clenched teeth. "We were just sleeping. Together. For what? Five hours? Six? I can't believe how completely I let my guard down around you."
She started gathering her belongings quickly and shoving them in her bag. I watched in confusion. Wasn't that the point? That we could let our guards down around each other? Had I missed something vital here?
"What are you doing?" I asked, dumbfounded, as she snatched her duffel bag from the table and threw it over her shoulder.
"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing? I'm going to my room."
Familiar anxiety clawed it's way up my throat. I couldn't let her leave like that. First, she was bound to be caught because she is not being cautious or quiet at all. More importantly, though, it felt like if she left now, that would be it. It would be over.
"Wait." I'm not ready for it to be over yet. We haven't even started.
Surprisingly, she stopped halfway to the gate. She did not turn around.
I had no idea what to say next. What could I say that would not make her run as far from me as possible? She should run. I've been telling her that all week. This whole thing has bad idea written all over it.
I took a tentative step towards her. Then another, until I stood beside her.
The defeated look in her eyes told me everything. My heart plummeted. She was giving up. Shutting down.
My hand caressed hers before clasping it gently. I kept my eyes locked on hers. I hoped she could see the concern I was feeling in that moment. Concern that she was being too hard on herself. Concern that she was writing me off because she was scared. Concern that she would go off and do something stupid.
"Stop. Whatever is going on in that brain of yours, just…stop."
She held my gaze for a long moment before she squeezed her eyes shut and took a long, shuddered breath. She gripped my hand tightly. When she opened her eyes again, they were empty, void of all emotion.
"I told you. I'm not ready."
What the….
"Not ready for what?" I stepped back from her as though she had struck me. Her words stung as bad as her hand would have. "What did I do that you aren't ready for? I was not taking advantage of you. You fell asleep. On my shoulder."
Disbelief. Anger. Humiliation.
Her eyes widened. She ran her hand through her hair and blinked her eyes quickly.
Maybe Theo was right after all. Maybe she was just playing some kind of game.
"You know what? Fuck this shit." I stormed past her, through the Iron gate into the main library. I was almost to the door when I heard her behind me.
"Malfoy! Wait." The pleading tone of her voice is what made me stop. I did not turn. I just waited.
"I didn't mean it like that." She sounded small. Defeated. "You didn't…I just…I meant I'm not ready to trust anyone but me."
Her explanation was weak at best. Anger still coursed through me.
"No." I turned around to face her. She looked almost heartbroken. I don't want to see her like that, but I'm not about to let her lie to me, or worse, to herself. I walked right up to her, so close that I could feel the heat from her body and smell the strawberries in her hair. "What you mean to say is that you aren't ready to trust your own instincts. What are you afraid of, Hermione?"
I know she's been hurt before. I know she's been through Hell and back. We both have. I also know that she did not put herself into those situations. They were circumstances beyond her control. Destiny.
She instantly went on the defensive.
"I am not afraid." Fire flashed in her eyes. Her cheeks to her ears tinged pink. Her hand flexed.
Good. I want her to be pissed off. I want her to be angry. Even if it's directed at me.
"No? Tell me then, is it your brain telling you to run away, or is it your magic?" Her eyes widened. She knew the answer as well as I did, even if she did not want to admit it. "You should know by now to trust your instincts, not hide from them."
"I am not hiding." She practically hissed at me. Magic crackled in the air around her.
A smarter man would have cut his losses. Walked away. Tried to calm her down.
Pushing her buttons has been a favorite pastime of mine for years, though. I couldn't walk away now if I wanted to.
"Then what are you doing?" I asked. My eyes searched hers looking for any sign at all that she was ready to admit the truth. She is a stubborn witch, though.
She held my gaze for a long moment. Then she took a step back.
"I'm leaving." She moved to walk around me.
"Running away, then?" I sneered at her. "Not the typical Gryffindor response."
She paused with her hand on the door.
"I am leaving before I do something that I will regret in the morning."
"Second guessing yourself again? Tell me, Granger. What do you want to do that you're afraid you'll regret? Curse me? Punch me? Verbally abuse me?" I scoffed. My anger may have been fading, but I still wanted her to own up to her actions. "Or maybe you want to cuddle up and take another nap?"
Every muscle in her body stiffened. You would think she had been petrified, as still as she was. I struck a nerve, it would seem.
"Do you really regret it that much?" I asked her quietly. All of the anger left me as disappointment flooded through my body. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
Several heartbeats passed. I was starting to think that she wouldn't answer at all. Which would be worse, if she confirmed I was right, or if she walked away?
She inhaled deeply. Her head fell back and she stared at the ceiling.
"No," she finally answered quietly.
"If whatever this is between us is going to work, we have to be able to trust each other." I ran my hand through my hair and stepped closer. I leaned down so I was talking right into her ear. "How am I supposed to trust you when you don't even trust yourself?"
She ran both hands through her hair while taking a deep breath. The fight had left both of us.
"How am I supposed to trust myself, when all I wanted to do when I woke up is kiss you. We didn't even have wards set up! Do you know how vulnerable we were?" She turned around to face me. "Anyone could have walked in. We were in danger, and all I could think about was you!"
There it was. Her fear. Laid out for both of us to see.
I stared into her eyes for several breaths before my hand found hers.
"Next time we fall asleep together, we'll put up wards first." I kept my face and my tone serious. I was serious. Completely. I didn't want her to think I was joking or making light of her confession.
She huffed out a short breath and squeezed my hand.
"The next time?" She asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.
"That's right."
She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
"You think I'm a nutcase, don't you?" She leaned her head against my chest and squeezed my hand.
"No more than I am." Which could be argued to be an affirmative. My actions lately could hardly be labeled as sane.
In the distance, the clock chimed one time.
"Come on, Granger. Let's get you back to the tower before you turn into a pumpkin."
She shook her head and her lips tilted up on one side.
"That happens at midnight, Malfoy. We're a little late."
I rolled my eyes and tugged on her hand.
"It was a joke."
Slowly, cautiously, we left the library together. At the stairs where we would have parted, I stayed with her. She lifted her brow in question but did not ask. At the portrait entry for Gryffindor Tower, we stopped.
"Thank you," she mumbled quietly.
Whether she was thanking me for walking her to her common room, or for pushing her to vent her frustrations in the library, I don't know. And I didn't ask.
"Good night," I said instead.
She nodded and returned the sentiment before whispering the password and slipping through the portrait hole.
I watched until the portrait swung back into place. Then I turned and made the trek down to the dungeon. By some miracle I made it back to my room without being caught, and thankfully ended this dreadful day.
AN: My readers are the best readers ever. I am ahead on writing and love the way this story is taking shape. I think it will be a long haul. These two have so much baggage to unpack. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts.
Thanks for reading! Until next time.
-mezy