Hermione had woken to a lavish breakfast warm and waiting for her. She had eaten it bit-by bit at the day progressed, savoring the fruit and the bagel and the eggs and bacon. As she looked at the plate she thought about what she had seen in Draco's mind.
He had made her breakfast every day that she had been here.
It was such a simple thing...and yet...it meant the world.
He didn't just bring her a 'glass of water and a crust of bread'
He brought her good food.
He took time. He put in effort.
And this morning's meal...she could see the extra effort.
Her fingers fluttered over the parchment on his desk enjoying the feel of it.
He had sat here and written to her. She could see the struggle on his face as he crumpled up each one. She reached into her pocket and retrieved the note that had been in her sock. The one that had alerted her to the fact that she had lost a day-that there was something missing.
The ink was smeared and she ran her thumb over the lines of text.
He cared.
She closed her eyes.
It was a strange feeling to be in Draco's room without any restraints. The little chain he had hooked around her ankle so many times was only a memory. She felt free and yet tethered.
Even though there was nothing stopping her from leaving the idea of leaving now felt like a betrayal and after everything that Draco had done for her...she would not betray him like that.
He had risked everything for her.
And yet he pulled away when you kissed him, she thought miserably and her cheeks heated.
She needed to get out of this place, it was warping everything in her head.
Her friends had come for her once, how long until they tried again?
Would they try again?
"Of course they will," she whispered to herself and began pacing.
It wasn't long before Hermione found herself browsing through Draco's books. With the exception of a few wizarding classics and a great number of biographies, his shelves contained almost exclusively wizarding history. Hundreds and hundred of volumes.
She glanced at several and saw they had a decidedly 'Pureblood' bend to them.
She frowned until she found a section on potions masters through the ages.
Happy for something to read she pulled out one biography after another.
By the time lunch rolled around she was almost finished the first book and her eyes were in need of a break.
Hermione looked to the door, and felt an odd pull.
She missed Draco.
She had almost expected a note from him to be waiting for her with her breakfast. It's absence coupled with his absence was making her anxious.
Where was he?
Its your fault he's staying away, her mind chimed. He tried to be there for you after the nightmare and you pushed him away. You shut him out and right after he let you in. How do you suppose that made him feel?
Hermione rubbed her face.
Up until that moment she hadn't thought about how Draco might think things one sided with him letting her into his mind and her not even being willing to speak to him after a nightmare.
I couldn't, she answered back.
It's not his fault you dreamed about him.
She closed her eyes and looked out the window staring at the perfectly manicured grounds of the Malfoy Manor.
You miss him, her mind whispered.
"I don't miss him," she said aloud. "I'm just...lonely."
You know that's not true, her mind answered back and Hermione sighed ignoring the thought.
Its this place, she reassured herself, this place is warping everything.
She picked up the next book.
-
Dinner was filled with tense silences.
Draco was only too happy for it to be over.
He locked himself in the library reading and trying to escape the loop in his head which always brought him back to Hermione.
He glanced at the clock counting the hours, feeling a strange anxiousness which didn't entirely feel like his own emotion. He rubbed at his chest distractedly, not even truly conscious of the movement.
How long until he could be sure she was asleep?
She needed space and after this afternoons life-shattering discovery that he was hopelessly in love with her, Draco was scared shitless that he would say something or do something that would give away the truth.
It didn't help that she had made him vow honesty.
She's not going to ask you if you love her, he mentally rolled his eyes. She still thinks you hate her and are mad for that kiss.
Gods that kiss. He could still taste her memory on his mouth.
"Fuck off Malfoy," he growled at himself. Just because he was in love with her didn't mean he needed to torture himself with thoughts of things he couldn't have.
The clock chimed midnight which was late enough that he hoped she would already be sleeping.
It was odd to sneak back into his own room.
She was sleeping on her pallet.
His heart squeezed at the sight of her there and he lingered for a moment, letting himself imagine coming home to her.
Don't, his mind warned. Don't think that.
Draco closed his eyes turning away he went to his wardrobe to check on Fred.
As soon as he stepped inside his oasis he felt the pull of his little ocean calling his name. Draco wanted to dive strait into its warm welcoming water and swim. Swim until his arms grew heavy and his mind went clear from the emersion. Swim until he could just "Be" here in the moment and think of nothing else.
He didn't bother even trying. Draco knew there was something about having someone else in his wardrobe-even if they were in a coma- that made it so he would not find that peace he sought. Something about having a guest that made it so that his secret place didn't quite feel like it was 'his' anymore.
It's only temporary, he told himself and prayed it was the truth.
Fred was still laying in the same position, his bedding soaked from sweat, when Draco entered the tiny room to check on him.
The fever had broken which gave Draco hope for the Weasely's recovery.
He administered one of the new potions he had made that afternoon. Fred swallowed without the aid of a spell which Draco took to be a very good sign.
In one day the redhead had gone from barely breathing, and completely comatose to basic human reflex.
"Good," said Draco. "This is good."
If Fred woke...Draco pictured Hermione's face.
He could take away her pain.
He could take away the guilt.
He just needed Fred to wake.
"Keep fighting," he muttered. "She needs you."
Once he was done with Fred Draco went back out to the main room of his hut and sat down on the big reading chair by the fire.
He picked up a book to read and then put it down.
He went over to his bar to pour a drink and then stopped.
He was in a mood and if he started drinking now...he shook his head. It wasn't a good idea.
Resigned Draco went outside and sat on his big rock. It was night and the planets and stars were moving in their orbits across his tiny horizon. The gentle breeze caressed his face and he closed his eyes breathing in the salty air.
It helped a little.
A part of Draco railed against his own emotions.
The same thoughts circled round and round in Draco's head as he repeatedly tried to talk himself out of being in love with Hermione.
He told himself all kinds of lies: That there was no point. That it was never going to happen, that he wasn't really in love with her it was just lust, obsession or adoration.
Nothing helped.
Nothing he could say to himself could help him escape from the truth.
By the end of his time in the oasis he reconciled himself with two things:
One, he was in love with Granger and there was no changing it.
Two, there was no world in which they could ever really be so he would just have to learn to deal with it.
-
A simple chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways. This week might actually get an extra upload if I can manage it, so cross your fingers for me, and leave some love here in a comment if you have the time.