The Internal Devices

Chapter 35

Draco had forgotten how to breathe.

She was smiling. She was smiling. She was smiling.

For half an hour he had paced in front of the door to their flat, arguing with himself. He couldn't decide if this would be good for her or if she would hate him. The tickets had felt like stones in his pocket, paralyzing him with fear. What if he was wrong, and this was the thing that made him lose her?

No. They had promised.

That thought alone made him take a deep breath and enter the living room. The second he saw her reading on the couch, a flutter set off in his stomach. She was almost unrecognizable from the Hermione he lived with four months prior. Today, she had a little color on her cheeks, and her hair was nicely plaited. She still had that hesitant look in her eyes, as if she couldn't quite trust the world anymore, but at least she appeared healthier. Every day he saw her looking healthier felt like a miracle.

He couldn't believe she said yes, and for a moment he just stared after her as she went into the room to change. His gawking continued when she walked out in that dress, when he caught a glimpse of the necklace, and when she changed the color of his tie. Every part of their conversation had him on autopilot, and he was internally screaming at himself to act normal. Why was it so bloody difficult to be normal?

He really was doing quite well once they took their seats, and was looking forward to the performance. He'd heard the partita hundreds of times over the years from Theodore, and he was ready to hear it again. True, this time the melodies were accompanied by a dull ache in his chest, but he also felt closer to Theo than he had in months. He hoped wherever he was, Theo knew how much he was missed. He closed his eyes. I love you, brother. Always.

When Draco opened his eyes again, he glanced to the side and there she was–oh gods–he couldn't stop the small sound that escaped from his throat. That was when the air froze in his lungs because Merlin, she was smiling, and she was smiling here and then she was smiling at him.

Hermione's eyebrows scrunched together and she mouthed, is something wrong? Draco shook his head and reached for her chin, dragging his thumb across her face in reverence. The rest of the audience was oblivious to this phenomenon, and the selfish part of him was giddy that this moment was his alone. He slowly met her curious eyes.

"Do it again," he whispered. She frowned in bewilderment. "That smile, Granger. Do. It. Again." This time her eyes widened in understanding, and she beamed at him. There it was...Draco hadn't realized how much he'd missed it these six months.

When he was young, Narcissa would sneak into his room late at night to tell him stories. One of her favorites was the Phoenix's First Flight. It was a story of the birth of the world, a time before witches or wizards, when magic was loose, floating in a haze above the waters. From the haze, a spark was born, and although many believed it would fizzle out in defeat, the spark defiantly reached for the magic around it. It grew, it rose, it roared. The raw power needed a physical form, so it painted on feathers and claws. The phoenix was born. In the midst of the dark expanse, the phoenix streaked across the world, leaving a fiery trail in the sky. It was exuberant in this freedom and vowed to never cease it soaring. Each day, early morning and night, the phoenix flew–its fire so bright that many couldn't look it in the eye. Only the bravest stood resolute on the ground, gazing upward, welcoming the scorching heat with open arms.

This was how Draco felt: Hermione in her blazing majesty was flashing him a smile almost too bright to look at. And yet–he did not falter. Something glimmered in her eyes as she held his gaze as if she too was finding it difficult to breathe. He realized that right here, in this moment, he could kiss her. He could tilt up her chin, get lost in those dazzling brown eyes, and fall. He could press his lips against hers, softly at first and then something more. He could close the space between them, remember what it felt like to feel her tongue dancing with his own. He saw all of this play out in his mind, and it wasn't that far-fetched, but he dropped his gaze. It wasn't time. Tonight they were still too delicate, too fragile, and he wanted this spark between them to be it. He wanted it to be everything. So he could be patient, and wait for the right moment because it would come. That was a promise.