Resentment | Dramione

Chapter 11

Hermione. She corrected him. What? The confusion he had sounded almost humorous if she had been in the mood to laugh. My name is Hermione.

I know that. Hermione released another angry huff, even though it was a waste of breath, really. It's not like he could hear her huffing. Then why do you keep calling me Granger?

Draco remained silent for a good few seconds, and she could practically see him shrug as he said his next reply. It's a habit, really.

Hermione let it drop, not finding it worth the effort to argue about now. She was sure that the time would come when he'd call her by her first time, and until then, she'd save her breath. Or well, she'd save her thoughts.

How are you? Hermione asked, sincerely meaning the question. I was only joking, Granger. You didn't really need to ask that.

I know, but I want to know. It remained silent again, something she was really starting to hate. I don't know. Her heart warmed as she could hear how honest his reply was, and she felt grateful that he shared it with her.

I guess that makes two of us, then. Hermione sighed aloud, focusing her gaze back on the window to look outside. She had let the curtains hang open so she could have a good look at the streets, which were illuminated by the soft lighting of the street lights. The world at night always seemed so peaceful to her, and it made it so much more difficult to realize that true horrors were happening right now.

Draco?

Yes?

Things will gonna be bad, won't they? Hermione watched her own reflection in the window, and only now saw how tired and crestfallen she looked. It angered her in a way, to see herself so weak and hopeless. She knew better than that, but on the other hand, she couldn't help the way she felt.

Everything was changing. Again and again, and sometimes that was just difficult. Especially when there was no way to determine the outcome. I guess.

You should really change that hairdo, Granger. A week's worth of unwashed hair really does not suit you. Hermione raised her eyebrows in amused surprise at the sudden change of subject. As if you're looking much better than me right now.

Of course I do. Hermione scoffed at that, not believing a word of that. Then prove it. She challenged him. The dreadful silence popped up again, and she feared she had crossed the line with their conversation, but a breath of relief escaped her lips when he spoke again. How?

Hermione smiled deviously, glad to have persuaded him enough to consider doing it. Go stand in front of the mirror. Now, she only needed to figure out how to work the whole seeing thing out. They were nearing the next stage, but so far the only times she saw his view was when they randomly came at her.

Concentrating on her connection with Draco, she tried to picture his bedroom again as clear as she possibly could. Perhaps if she focused on the room he was in, her mind would follow and carry her eyes to show his view.

The room alone didn't seem to do it, however, and so she tried to picture Draco in it as well. Tried to imagine Draco standing there in front of his mirror with all his characteristics. Wait, what did he actually look like?

Bit by bit she tried to picture him as detailed as possible: the white blonde hair, the faint sneer that seemed to have become a prominent feature on his face after all those years; his grey eyes that were always carefully scanning his surroundings, and to top it off: his usual black suit.

Well, of course he wouldn't be wearing it now, seeing it was nearing midnight, but it was the outfit she had seen him wearing most of the past school year, and it seemed to do the trick for her brain.