T R A I N E D T O S I N | dramione

Thirteen

Hermione left a small trail of water across the floor from where she left the shower. Her hair was slicked back and behind her ears, leaving no trace of her usual natural curls. Water droplets clung to the tips of her hair, falling with every step she took.

As she passed the mirror she kept her head low and her eyes distracted, leaving the bathroom and heading to her wardrobe.

As she lifted her head she saw a small trail of steam rising from behind the bed poster and she began to walk towards the source. There was a plate of steaming food sat neatly on her dresser. Draco had already came.

She clung to the towel wrapped tightly around herself and fiddled with a loose thread. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful that she had missed him. It almost made the anticipation worse considering she wasn't able to prepare or specifically ask if she should wear anything in particular.

She stabbed her fork into a slice of steak and slowly brought it to her mouth. Her stomach turned and twisted with endless amounts of anxiety and her chest felt almost hollow. She swallowed the buildup of saliva in her throat. She was so hungry, eagerly watching the meat hovering steadily in front of her face. The smell filtered into her nose and she quickly pushed the fork into her mouth.

Her mouth instantly salivated. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten steak and she was certain this was the best she had ever had which didn't come as a shock to her considering she was eating at Malfoy standards.

She chewed until it had mostly turned into a thick paste and swallowed. It went down easier than the other times she had attempted to eat with such anxiety but as it reached her stomach, it stirred. She felt the knot tighten as the food sat awkwardly on top of it and sighed heavily in defeat before dropping her fork back onto the plate and pushing it away from her.

She tiredly rose to her feet, strolling wearily towards her wardrobe and studying the contents deeply. She sighed, digging deep and reaching for a shirt and jeans. They looked awfully similar to muggle clothing which was most likely why they were hidden so far down and towards the back opposed to all the dresses displayed lavishly at the front.

After she had changed, she searched her room, finding a piece of parchment and a pencil and then traipsing toward the window. The streetlamps outside illuminated the manor grounds, mimicking the moon but slightly more golden. She twisted the pencil in her hands thoughtfully and allowed her head to roll to the side and rest against the glass.

The lights almost chiselled down the hardness of the Manor, softening each corner and grazing lightly over every jut of the hedges. Everything looked golden.

The gravel path was like a blurry sea of orange, the harshness of the stones all blending into one stream of light as it stretched out and reached the end of the grounds. She followed it casually with her eyes.

She lifted her head from the window and twirled the pencil in her fingers before eyeing her paper and beginning to draw. She gripped the pencil lightly as close to the bottom as she could in order to gain as much control over it as she saw possible. The soft caress of the pencil on paper broke the silence of her room and her arms prickled with goosebumps.

Every so often, her eyes would flick up to the view beyond window. They never lingered and as soon as she was content that she had studied the view thoroughly enough, she brung her eyes back to the paper and began slowly moving her wrist again.

For the next few hours, she drew. A growing ache had come over her hand as she dropped the pencil to her lap and began lightly shaking her hand, relaxing it so her tensing in her wrist would ease. Light and dark filled the page, her pencil strokes often visible where she hadn't properly smudged.