Isolation

Chapter 23: Limbo

The cold chill in the room nibbled at his pores, and he slipped into his baggy pyjama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt as he left the bed. He paused to watch the thunderstorm raging outside the window; the pane distorted by hammering rain and whipping winds, but he could see that it had washed away the snow.

Granger wouldn't like that.

Heading out of the bedroom, he stopped in his tracks and quirked an eyebrow when he saw her. Leaning over her cauldron and muttering measurements of ingredients to herself, her hair was a gravity-resistant mess surrounding her flushed features as she sprinkled some purple powder into her concoction. Nodding with satisfaction, she lifted her busy eyes and finally noticed him, and Draco's lips twitched in response.

"Good morning," Hermione said quietly. "Well, afternoon actually."

"Afternoon?" he repeated, glimpsing at the clock to find it had just pushed past midday. "You should have woken me."

"I thought you might need the rest," she shrugged. "You were quite restless in your sleep last night."

Ignoring her comment, he nodded his head at her cauldron. "What's that for?"

"It's just another batch of Dreamless Sleep Potion," she explained, giving it a quick stir. "I found some Murtlap Essence and Burn-Healing Paste too." She hesitated. "Draco, would you like me to save you some Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled, his brow creasing with irritation. "Perhaps you should take some, seeing as you were apparently up all night, taking notes about my sleeping habits."

"It was simply a suggestion-

"An unnecessary one," he interjected calmly, wrinkling his nose as the sharp tang of mingling potions hit his nose. "That smells like shit."

"I brewed some Skele-Gro earlier," she told him. "It stunk out the kitchen a bit-

"Earlier? Did you even sleep?"

"The rain woke me up pretty early," she mumbled. "I wanted to get these done anyway-

"You look shattered," he remarked, moving closer and noting the dark smudges under her eyes. "You should go back to bed-

"I'm fine," she shook her head. "I need to get back and help-

"Of course you do," he drawled, rolling his eyes.

He expected his witch to make a defensive retort, but then he should have learned by now that it was futile to predict anything about Granger's behaviour. Instead, she simply studied him from beneath her lovely lashes with a knowing glint in her eyes. He didn't like that look, and he blamed his vow last night, when he had assured that he would not serve Voldemort again. She regarded him like he was different; somehow...better, and he shifted his weight with discomfort.

She didn't get it.

Did she honestly believe that it had been born out of some moral revelation? That he gave a shit about Potter and his band of feckless fools? He almost snorted. His motivation was entirely selfish; he knew now that he cared for her welfare, and he didn't want to see her hurt or killed. Simple as that. Also, they shared an enemy in Voldemort, and she could pose the 'what if he asked you to rejoin the Death Eaters' question all she liked, but the mentally-deranged psychopath was hardly renowned for his forgiving nature.