𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐨𝐧𝐞

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Goyle's Pub

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DRACO clung onto the thoughts of her in his mind.

She had been out cold when he awoke this morning, even after he stretched his long-fingered hands over her forehead, brushing back her tangled curls with such tenderness.

She had remained still.

He decided to let her sleep, reminding himself of the Christmas party the night before, and the broken state she had been in when she returned to him.

It reminded Draco of when she first slept in his room, heartbroken after finding out her husband had been unfaithful to her, and he could have turned her away, but he let her stay.

And after time of not being around his disloyalty toward her, she had been healing, and the blonde had been helping her to the best of his ability.

Somewhere along the way, though, something had changed between them. He had seen the beauty of the soul she carried within and the verity that had once been her, and he liked it.

He could tell that she was feeling the same toward him too, her vulnerable side only shining when he had opened his arms for her.

Last night had been something he hadn't expected — not then, anyway. She had kissed him, and allowed him to kiss her back.

He had been wanting this for so long, and every moment of her touch under the coat of his skin, her taste and her scent had lived up to his expectations he had created in his brain.

But when she pulled away and bolted from him, a fragment of his heart which raced from within the cage of his chest had split, afraid she may not come back to him.

But she did, and she let him take care of her the way he wanted to. He held her close to him, in his bed, and cherished her the way he had been wanting to, yet this was not enough for him — he wanted more.

She had given him an opening — to her heart and soul, and now he could give the same to her.

"We're nearly there." said Blaise, who had been striding next to him the entire time. Draco had completely forgotten of where his present had been whilst his mind was elsewhere.

He had visited this morning, a long trench coat and a scarf cloaked over the black suit he wore clothed over his skin — bringing Draco an identical one in his left hand.

Grateful for them, he had dressed himself into the attire, asking politely why he was visiting, in which he was told that he wanted to take the blonde somewhere for Christmas day.

Draco had very clearly expressed that he wasn't sure he'd feel comfortable leaving Hermione all alone, and Blaise gave the suggestion of a note.

And the wizard had begun to write, ensuring to avoid her worrying over him. He had pinned to the note to the feathers that stuffed into the case of the pillow and marched away, casting a look of adoration for the woman sleeping there before leaving her for the day.

Only when Blaise had spoken just before did Draco realize his mind had drifted. His shoe kicked small stones along the side of the pathway they were traveling down.

The blonde had no idea they had been moving for —  being too distracted with the serene images of Hermione he had created in his brain.

They lefted a corner swiftly, the heavy cloak swaying in the breeze surrounding them. They came to a halt after their doings; Draco arched his neck as his sight fixed on an old tavern.