wildflowers // dramione

Chapter 19

Draco woke up to a sleeping Hermione next him. The sky outside the window above her bed was dark. Rain still fell but it was calmer now and the thunder had stopped. Even with the low noise of the night, Draco hadn't really fallen completely asleep tonight. He had dozed off here and there but his mind was too awake for him to truly rest. He stared at the bedroom's ceiling and its delicately crafted light fixture in the center. Draco wasn't sure how to react to his and Hermione's actions last night. His thoughts bounced back and forth between anger at himself and then a calm, peaceful state due to the fact that he hadn't hid his feelings for what felt like the first time in his life. The way Hermione made him feel was something he'd hate about himself till the day he died, but he couldn't help it. It was possible it was the situation they were in causing everything to happen, but a part of both wizards knew it wasn't that simple. They knew that, since that day on the train, whatever was created between them had not, and would not, disappear. Sure, it had faded throughout the years, but it still sat in between them everytime they argued or caught each other's eyes. Now, their connection was stronger than ever and they were permanently bonded after last night's events.

Draco didn't know what to do. He couldn't sleep but he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave the warm, comfortable bed he and his new lover rested in. He was only somewhat certain of one thing; he didn't want to be here when Hermione awoke. He couldn't handle the awkward confrontation. It was bad enough they had spent the night together. Waking up next to one another might just make that worse. Draco dreaded it, but he lifted the tangled sheets and duvet off his body, which wasn't covered by much else besides the blankets. Draco thought he would shiver at the contact of his exposed skin and the air but he didn't. Instead of the rest of the house's frosty air, Hermione's bedroom was humid and resembled summer much more than spring. Draco's body felt the heavy air and he stood slowly from the bed, trying his best to not awaken to the slumbering witch. Draco searched the floor for his pants and shirt. When he located his wadded up clothes, he slid them on. They were still damp from the rain but he ignored it. Draco ran a hand through his blonde hair as he silently opened the door. He glanced behind him to see if Hermione was still sleeping and when he knew he hadn't disturbed her, he left.

Draco continued his activity of staring. He gazed out through the windows of the kitchen. He looked out towards the front yard and watched raindrops fall into the overflowing pond. He scanned the world outside. The sun was almost up and the sky had a lavender ish, grey tint. The color of the atmosphere reminded him of the purple wildflower Hermione had picked. He remembered her little bouquet of wildflowers of various colors and how he would steal a single one and pluck the petals. How the violet flower had been special to Hermione and when he tried to pluck its petals she stopped him. Draco cringed as the memory continued and he relived the moments after their first kiss. How he had scolded her and made Hermione's cheeks flush with embarrassment. How she had thrown her bouquet of wildflowers to the ground and ran inside. Draco suddenly thought of something. He moved away from the window and to the front door. He felt the cold and wet breeze hit his face as he opened it. Draco stepped outside and into the front yard.

Draco made his way through the tall, wet grass and looked around the ground. He searched for Hermione's bouquet. He was sure it would still be here, somewhere. Draco wandered aimlessly around, trying to find a pile of drenched, wilted wildflowers. Draco was near the left side of the house when he saw the patch of dandelions Hermione had run off to and returned from with two in her hand. The patch was larger now and had sprouted a new batch of fresh yellow dandelions in between the older, fluffy ones. Draco knew the bundle of flowers Hermione had picked had to be close to here. He squinted and scanned the yard. The sun was up now, but barely seen through the thick, dark storm clouds. Draco could see the ground better now and his eyes caught a glimpse of a little pile of plants. Draco rushed over to the flowers and examined them. Once he knew they were Hermione' s, he picked up a few of the wet stems at a time and looked specifically for her favorite one. When he finally came across the violet flower, Draco was disappointed. The bud of the flower and its petals were wilted. Its stem was soft and lopsided. Draco sighed and spun the dying flower in his fingers. He stood up from the kneel he had been in and walked back inside with the purple flower.