wind - Dramione

24

"'Mione, come on."

After pounding on the door shamelessly for a few seconds, she had slid down the doors, a vacant expression in her clouded eyes. Slack faced, she brought her attention to the dark haired man in front of her as he knelt down and repeated her name.

"Hermione."

"I don't want to talk to you," she looked away from him apathetically.

Harry knew it would take a while for her to forgive him, if ever. He reached out to rub her shoulder, suddenly struck with an unimaginable guilt, but she dodged him smoothly, returning her gaze to the uninteresting wall behind him.

He reached out to her again, gripping her shoulder before she could pull away and she was immediately brought to life, flying to her feet and yanking herself out of his hand.

"Don't touch me, Harry!" she yelped. "If you had just listened! If you had..."

She continued to rant on while Harry held his hands up, a concerned and guilty look on his face. She had tears in her eyes and her movements were sluggish as if she hadn't slept in days, and she probably hadn't.

Although she was released from Draco's flat the second they disapparated in that alley, to Harry's knowledge, she hadn't left until that morning. So while her outward appearance may seem composed, her hair brushed, her face bright and clear, anyone would be able to tell she was emotionally exhausted.

Harry honed in on her appearance, paying close attention to the purple she so carefully attempted to hide under her eyes. She dragged her feet while she paced in front of him. Her shoulders were slumped, her posture deflated. Her face twisted as if she were in physical pain, though she could probably yell countless reasons why her emotional pain was worse. As he observed her, he realized she was still spilling her heart out telling him what he did wrong and why she would never forgive him.

"I'm sorry! I— I'm sorry," he begged. It was the only thing he could say. Maybe he had acted impulsively. Maybe he should've just taken Hermione in instead, he knew she could handle it. So what made him choose to believe Malfoy? Was he, too, one of the people discriminating against him but subconsciously? He chaulked it up to his need for her wellbeing. "I'm sorry."

"'Sorry' won't stop him from getting the Kiss," she whispered, evidently drained of all her energy. Tears fell effortlessly from her tired, vacant eyes.

He held open his arms in which she fell into an embrace. Her shoulders shook in his hands and he rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms, trying his best to comfort her through something he could never understand.

"I..." Harry didn't know what he could say. Anything he could think of to comfort her was painfully obviously a lie. "I'm sure they'll do all they can to prove his innoc—"

"They won't," she pushed away from him with force, her anger restored to its former glory. "You put him in that room, Harry! He has no chance!"

With that she stormed off.

***

Hermione walked through the lobby of the muggle apartment complex and made her way to the staircase up to Draco's floor. She wandered aimlessly toward his door, but instead found Ron crouched outside the door, face in his palms. She froze a good 6 meters away from him, terrified. She hadn't had to interact with him for so long, she forgot how. The absence of her wedding ring suddenly felt incredibly heavy as she vaguely remembered removing it that morning and leaving it on Draco's mantle before flooing to the Ministry. She considered turning around and going back down the stairs, cursing herself for not realizing she had gone up one too many flights, but then he looked up and stared into her eyes.