Second Savior // Dramione ✔️

+ Chapter Seven +

It was just after midnight when Ron eventually made his way back to the Burrow. He hadn't wanted to sleep at home, but he had no other place to go. Hermione was in the apartment and he doubted she'd let him back in. He ignored the familiar pain in his chest at the thought of Hermione and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob to the back door.

Just as he was about to sneak off up the stairs, he felt someone grab onto his sleeve and yank him into a room, closing the door behind them.

"Hey! Get off!" he shouted, not caring who he woke up.

"Oh, shut up Ron!" his little sister said back, releasing his sleeve after shoving him onto her bed and glaring at him with her arms crossed.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped, annoyed and tired.

Ginny snorted. "I should be asking you that. I know about your not-so-secret plan to get Hermione back. And I'm telling you this to save your arse: don't do it, Ron. She's not going to get back with you."

Ron stared at her in disbelief, frightened by how much she knew. "I don't know how you found out about that, Ginny. But butt out of it, okay? It's none of your business. If I want to win Hermione back, I can."

"None of my business?" she snarled. "It's all of my business! You're my brother and Hermione's my best friend! I know my best friend, and believe me, Ron, she's not going to be with you. So just stop it! Make both of your lives' easier. Find some other girl to chase after and let Hermione be with Ma-alone."

"Were you about to say Malfoy?" Ron said calmly, but his body trembled in anger.

"No! It was a slip of the tongue!" Ginny defended herself.

"Whatever," Ron muttered. "there's no way she'd fall for Malfoy. Those two hate each other."

Ginny literally bit on her tongue to prevent herself from saying anything but the words came falling out of her mouth anyway.

"Well I'm fairly certain she doesn't hate him as much as she hates you."

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Draco was seated on a chair in the storage room of the Manor, staring intently at the photograph in his hands. It was over fifteen years old and was frayed at the edges, but still visible. He felt his hands shaking lightly as he gripped the paper.

It was one of the earliest memories of his childhood he had. He remembered the day clearly. It had been just a few days past his fifth birthday, and his mum had baked him a cake and everything. In those days his father was less stern and cold, so he'd come home from work that day with a small present tucked into his robes. Draco hadn't been able to celebrate his birthday on the day of since his father had been traveling.

The photograph itself was taken while Draco was opening presents. In the picture, he was ripping apart at some wrapping paper with his mum to his left, smiling widely and beaming at her son. To the right stood his father, his face smooth and non expressive except for a ghost of a smile on his lips as he eyed Draco. Though the picture moved, there hadn't been much action in the moment. Still, Draco couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at how happy the Malfoy trio had looked.

He laid out the letter sent from St. Mungo's again and reread the name of the center his where his father was being taken care of. He and Granger had agreed to go sometime within the next week, whenever he was ready to face his father again.

The problem was, he had no idea when that would be.

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