Isolation

12. Sleep

.

Dear Godric, what am I doing?

Hermione grimaced as the door creaked open a little too loud for her liking. She pushed some magi into a dim Lumos charm; just enough to discern bistre shapes and outlines. The air seemed colder as she shuffled nervously inside, and she bunched the fabric of her dressing gown at her chest as her eyes settled in the bed.

She paused her footfalls. She could hear them now; sleep-slurred protests and elevated breaths.

Draco was having a nightmare, and as she stared a little harder, the glow from her wand caught a silvery sheet of sweat across his forehead. His features were creased and pained, and the vulnerability she saw then was absolutely breathtaking. He looked... beautiful, and it made her chest burn. She blinked away her trance when he writhed under the covers and released a distressed grunt.

Get a grip, Hermione...

She continued towards him warily, and gazing with a fascination she couldn't censor. Something about his thrashes and squirms sent wonderful little tingles to her fingertips that bade her to touch him, but she resisted.

He must have been cold. She could see he was wearing only a vest to cover his torso, although it was hard to tell if he was shivering or quaking because of the inevitable disturbing images tumbling around his head. With a hesitant frown, she shrugged off her robe and Transfigured it into a thick blanket. She edged anxiously closer to drape it over him and accidentally caught his frosty skin. She froze when he flinched at her touch and a sleep-slurred mumble passed his dry lips.

"I have to kill you... otherwise, they're going to kill me."

Hermione gasped and her eyes darted up to his face to find it contorted with anguish. He looked like he was being tortured, and she felt her stomach twist with concern and care that shouldn't have been there. She leaned over and studied him closely, forgetting the chill for a moment.

"Draco," she whispered before she could question herself. "Draco, it's me. Wake up."

If anything, his throaty growls became worse, and she carefully raised her hand to rest against his damp forehead. The moment her skin touched his, smoky and wild eyes snapped open. Hermione barely had time to release a startled yelp as he grabbed her wrists and pulled her down; flipping them so she was trapped beneath him and straddling her hips. He was panting heavily with confusion and the aftershocks of his nightmare, and he loomed over her with bared teeth; close enough that some of his hair tickled her brow.

"Draco," she breathed, unafraid of the slightly unhinged look in his eyes. "Calm down. It's me."

His features barely softened, but she felt the grip on her wrists give, and she quickly lifted her hands to his face. Her palms rested either side of his head as she brushed her thumbs over his cold cheeks. He didn't tear away as she'd expected, but then he looked completely out of it; tired and tipsy with exhaustion, but still jittery.

"It's okay," she soothed softly with stroking fingers. "It's okay."

His lids drifted lower so his eyes were thin and almost hidden, and his breaths calmed against her face. He'd stopped shaking, but she kept her hands against his cheeks, willing him to wake up completely. He swayed a little with unbalance before his distant gaze darted back down to hers. His eyes were misty and absent as he slowly lowered himself, and Hermione would reluctantly admit that she didn't even consider protesting as his mouth caught hers.

While their first semi-kiss had been light and questionable, this connection felt heavy and firm. There was desperation between their mouths, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from giving up more when he licked her lower lip. She matched him with some small but bold sucks, and their wet sounds mingled for twenty thuds of her heart before they paused. He dropped his forehead against hers and kept their lips almost touching as Hermione fought hard to ignore the thunder of questions trying to burst out of her ears and chest.