4.1 | Draconian ✓

07 | wingardium

0 7

w i n g a r d i u m   l e v i o s a

Makes objects fly.

HERMIONE WAS FAST asleep when Draco returned to his room. For a moment, he simply stared down at her. Under the moonlight that streamed through the windows, she looked almost ethereal. Faint bruises still marred her skin; some scars lingered and would never fade away.

Draco realised that he had never been filled with more self-loathing than he had ever felt at that moment.

Suddenly, her breaths grew rapid and shallow. She twisted under the blankets and, sensing that she was about to have another nightmare, he quickly cast another muffling charm. It was just in time, too, because she shot awake. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy as she stared at him.

"Draco?"

"It was just a dream, Hermione," he murmured, instinctively leaning into her touch when she brought her hand up to his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

He hadn't even realised his slip until her eyes widened in wonder. "You - you called me Hermione."

"You call me Draco all the time."

Her lips curved into a gentle smile. "Touché."

He made to move away, but she kept her grip firm on his hand. And for some unfathomable reason, he made a snap decision to not pull away this time. Transfiguring his leather chair quickly into a spare pillow, he laid it against the base of the headboard and leaned against it. With his other hand, he reached down and ran his fingers soothingly through her hair, marvelling in the way the frizzy ends curled instinctively around his fingertips.

Hermione stared up at him, a contented smile playing on her lips and he frowned down at her. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

She nodded and shifted, pressing her lips briefly against his wrist before letting her eyes fall shut.

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Draco awoke the next morning when he felt someone attempting to shift him. His eyes flew open, only to see Hermione's face inches away from his. She was leaning over him on her knees, one of her arms was wrapped tight around his shoulder, her other hand on his head, as she awkwardly tried to manoeuvre him down. Her lips were pursed with the effort and she didn't even notice that he was awake.

"Hermione." He stifled a smirk when she shrieked and loosened her grip. He managed to prop himself up on his elbow just in time, grasping her arms firmly so she wouldn't fall on top of him. "What're you doing?"

She blushed and sat back down. "You looked uncomfortable just sitting there. I wanted to help you lie down...it's your bed, after all."

"You could've used a wand."

The instant the words were out of his mouth, Draco wanted to slap himself. No, Hermione couldn't use a wand. He'd spent a lot of time observing her the past few days, and one of the things he noticed was that she no longer used magic. He mentally kicked himself when he saw the sadness in her irises.

"I-I wish I could," she whispered, her eyes straying to the wand he'd gave her. She had left in on the dresser just in case, but had never bothered to touch it. Her fingers twitched. "I just don't know how to - anymore."

Draco's jaw clenched. One more reason why he couldn't send her back to the Order. They were going to make her fight for them, and he'd be damned if he let her go into a war without any preparation whatsoever.