The Lost Timeline | Dramione | ✔

#34 Delphini's Story

Dumbledore's death seemed to have hardened something in Harry. He was colder, and if he wasn't drilling his teammates to the point of exhaustion on the Quidditch pitch, he was glaring into space. Not gazing nor staring, but glaring.

"... it's just so unlike Harry," Hermione said unhappily to Draco, "and I know I should be giving him some concession, he's just lost yet another person he's close to... but I miss him. The Harry I used to know."

The pang that shot through him when he saw Hermione whispering in Harry's ear gurgled in the pit of his stomach. Draco was finally able to place the feeling that ravaged through him and left a trail of heartache. He was actually jealous of Harry. Envy was something he was familiar with, it left a bitter taste of resentment, but jealousy was funny. It made him want to puff his chest out and demand for the same affection.

The two were holed up in the Room of Requirements. Harry had stopped coming after Dumbledore's death, choosing instead to mull things over by himself. Hermione didn't dare disturb him when he was in one of those moods. It reminded her of his behaviour in the beginning of the year, when he was cut off from all magical information at Dumbledore's request to keep him safe with the Dursleys. He had a real go at her and Ron when he joined them at the Order's headquarters.

"I don't know how to reach him when he's like that," sighed Hermione. She knew it was unfair of her to unload on Draco because he had issues of his own that he needed to deal with, but he wore a look of contentment on his face. "Look at me harping on and on about Harry. How about you? How... are you?"

Draco gazed down at her with a little smirk.

"At the moment? Couldn't be better."

Hermione was nestled in his arms, her head in the space above his chest where her head fit perfectly. He didn't care that her hair was tickling his nose and getting into his mouth, or that he was really holding very still to the point of it being rather uncomfortable. Selflessness does not come easily to him, though it is a welcomed feeling, unlike jealousy. There was something satisfying about sacrifice, however small. But that's not to say that he doesn't benefit from their current arrangement – her familiar weight and warmth soothed him more than The Draught of Peace could, and for that he was thankful.

"Let him be," he suggested gently.

"That's what I'm doing! But we need to discuss the ministry's verdict! And–and planning our next steps?"

"Talking about it won't change the ministry's decision," Draco murmured into her hair. So engrossed was he in her presence that she could be talking about boring muggle topics such as quantum physics and it wouldn't have phased him.

He was finally able to be with Hermione completely instead of feeling torn between her and his family's allegiances. Draco was free of his demons now.

Hermione was also feeling lighter in spite of everything.

In her eyes, Draco had risen up to the occasion and she was hopeful that maybe everything was going to work out. The tragedy that she had painted in her mind was slowly giving way to a beautiful future, though thoughts of a red-headed daughter kept creeping into her mind. There was no way she would be able to look at Ron the same way, knowing that he would have been the father of her children. But for now, she allowed herself to soak in this shared moment of solitude.

Being able to lace her fingers with his sent a thrill down her spine. Draco, who once spat slurs in her face. Draco, whom she once slapped across the face. But here they are, intertwined together on a couch in the Room of Requirements.

It went so far as to add a loveseat with an elaborate diamond tufted back and elegantly curved claw feet. The upholstery was a deep green velvet with maroon and gold trim.