Chapter 14 (Draco)

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As the Christmas holiday came to a close, Draco leaned against his bedroom doorframe with a frown, watching Hermione methodically pack her belongings into her trunk. He was packed in less than ten seconds, but she preferred to do things the Muggle way.

He didn't want to leave the villa and return to Hogwarts. Selfishly, it was calming to have Hermione all to himself. There were no Potters or Weasley's, and most importantly - no witches or wizards attempting to kill his girlfriend.

It was not safe at Hogwarts but he knew there was nothing he could say to convince her not to go back. A few days ago he casually mentioned having her ask the Headmistress if she could finish her studies at the villa.

Bloody Gryffindors and their hero-complexes.

She shot his idea down like a rogue bludger. Hermione didn't want the attackers to start targeting someone else or direct their anger elsewhere.

Woman would give him an aneurysm before he could say 'Quidditch'.

"Did you know," started Hermione lightly, her back to him as she folded the last of her clothing into her trunk. "It takes more muscles to frown than to smile."

Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, lips pressed tightly together.

Another minute went by before she closed her trunk and stood, turning around to face him with one brow raised.

"I wish you would at least consider my proposal," Draco finally muttered when she huffed with impatience at his silence.

Her reaction was what he expected. The stubborn clench of her jaw, slight narrowing of her eyes, and arms immediately crossed.

He sighed and shook his head, walking over and putting his arms around her. It took only a few moments for her rigidness to soften and her arms to snake around his waist.

"I'm allowed to worry," he murmured into her hair before pulling back to kiss her forehead.

His lips turned into a smirk when he looked down into her honey brown eyes. "I had to fall in love with a bloody Gryffindor."

Hermione smirked back, though a pretty blush crawling up her cheeks showed him she was still getting used to him stating he loves her.

He wasn't open about his feelings, but he had been practicing over the holiday by allowing the words to roll off his tongue when the impulse was there.

Draco lifted her hand, the emerald bracelet gleaming on her wrist, as he brought her knuckles to his lips.

"Do not take this off," he murmured against her skin, holding her gaze sternly.

He could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek, trying not to argue with his demand.

She took pride in her independence, Draco knew this. Hermione was a brilliant and capable witch. But if she was outnumbered and ambushed in the corridors, he wanted to be there dueling at her side against the bastards.

Draco was quiet when they left the villa through the floo directly into the Headmistress' office. He nodded when prompted to and quickly followed Hermione down the spiraling staircase.

He didn't miss McGonagall curiously eyeing the emerald bracelet and he had blatantly chose to avoid the familiar blue eyes of a certain portrait.

Their hands were confidently intertwined while he gently caressed her hand with his thumb. She made polite conversation with her housemates in the corridors as they slowly made their way to the Great Hall.

Draco ignored the looks of disdain and suspicion, too distracted to sneer or care.

Only one Ravenclaw - Chang? - had been brave enough to inquire politely about her new jewelry.

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