Anchor and Rose | Dramione

Twenty-Three.

This fic is now available on ao3 if you prefer to read it there.

Bizarrely, Draco and Hermione did not speak for six days after their chit-chat that had occurred when they were curled into a ball on the sofa. Hermione had fallen asleep in Draco's embrace, entering into a dream-like trance by the warmth of his chest and the smell of his clean skin.

They simply didn't speak. It was almost as if he was avoiding her; spending most of his time upstairs while she was downstairs, and he conveniently decided to eat downstairs when she went to shower upstairs. When he did cross her in the halls, he almost always had a look of revulsion on his face. He would avoid her eye most of the time, and when he did look at her, Hermione thought he was going to push her against the wall to kiss her, touch her, fuck her even, but he never did. He would simply scoff, push past her, and disappear. He exited the house once to remove the trace, but he had departed long before Hermione had woken up so she couldn't ask to join him.

It was on the seventh day that Draco walked into the kitchen; fully dressed in a black pin-coat and combat boots, while Hermione was eating a rather lackluster bacon sandwich. He glanced at her with shaky blue eyes and leant against the fridge, right into the fire-line of the cold February sun-rays dancing through the window.

"How well do you think you've mastered your wand?" Draco asked, his voice monotone.

Hermione frowned and swallowed a bite of her sandwich before replying. "I think I've got it under control now?"

Draco scoffed like he didn't really believe her. He was rotating a silver watch around his wrist, one Hermione had not seen him wearing since the last time she saw him at Hogwarts.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, his eyes trained to his wrist. "We could always go and practice once more, just to be sure."

"I'm sure. But we could." Hermione shrugged, trying to keep her eyes gazing at her half-eaten sandwich rather than at Draco. "Why?"

Draco huffed and rolled his eyes. He awkwardly let himself fall into the chair opposite Hermione on the round table. Hermione was puzzled, why was his attitude so perplexing today?

"Why?" Hermione said, a little laugh coming out at the end of her words. "Because you've ignored me for over a week! Now you're concerned at whether I'll blow myself up with my wand all of a sudden?"

Draco ran his tongue across his bottom lip and murmured under his breath before straightening himself against the chair.

"I'm not concerned, as a matter of fact." Draco's voice was spitting with anger that had appeared out of nowhere. "It was a simple suggestion to make sure you don't blow something up in my mother's home!"

"Okay, what is it?" Hermione pressed her forearms against the table and stared at him with a narrow squint. "What's bothering you? Go on, spit it out. There must be a reason you didn't speak to me for a week and why you're suddenly reappearing to question me about my wand."

Draco raised a brow and ran a hand through his hair. Hermione couldn't decipher the look in his eye, was he angry at something or simply just trying to annoy her? Maybe a mix of both.

"Nothing!" Draco retorted. Hermione noticed the tips of his ears were turning a raging red colour that contrasted heavily with his white hair. "It was just a question, what's up your fucking ass?"

"Nothing!" Hermione mimicked Draco's words. "I'm just getting sick and tired of you being so horrid all the time! I thought we decided we were past that."

Draco laughed gingerly and tilted his head back ever so slightly. His adam's apple rattled in his throat as he drew his head back down so his eyes locked into her own.