Isolation

21. Scars

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As Draco was slowly stirred awake by the hum of feline purrs, his brow creased with confusion when he realised that the space next to him was empty, save the snoozing cat that was near his feet.

Quickly ignoring the pet, he flattened his palm against the spot where Granger should have been and felt the traces of her warmth tingle his skin. Hesitating as his sleep-blurred brain caught up, he slowly twisted his body to find her sitting at the window; her silhouette set against the garish and gold light of the morning. Squinting as his eyes adjusted, and rising into a sitting position, he concentrated on her weary and strained expression, and frowned at her distracted gaze.

Still clad in yesterday's clothes and her cheeks glossed with yesterday's tears, she was clutching her legs tightly to her chest and resting her chin against her knees. Her lips were dented from relentless chewing, her mouth bent in a mourning frown, and her eyes were bag-crested and bloodshot. All she did was stare through the window pane.

So still.

Barely breathing.

He absorbed every detail of her with calculating eyes, churning the information around in his head and trying to determine what he was supposed to do. Merlin knew he didn't have the slightest idea how to ease her distress, but the need to scratched under his skin anyway, and he didn't even try to resist it.

He cocked an eyebrow when she parted her lips and breathed heavily against the glass, lifting a finger to draw a mindless pattern in the condensation. With a sigh of defeat, he called her name.

Hermione absently dragged her finger across the misty window and narrowed her eyes when she realised what she was doing. She and her mother had left little messages on the bathroom mirror when she'd been little; just little things like I love you or Goodnight.

Her hand fell limp at her side as she read what she'd absently scribbled.

See you soon.

She shook her head when Draco's blurred voice seeped into her ears and snatched her back to reality. "What?"

"Have you even had any sleep?" he repeated in a blank tone.

"Oh," she exhaled. "A little...I mean enough-

"Doesn't look like it," he said stiffly, tossing her blankets off him and sitting at the edge of her bed. "You should get some more."

"No, it's fine," she mumbled, and Draco hated how distant she sounded. "I wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep now anyway-

"Don't say you're fine when you're clearly not," he scolded, perhaps too bluntly. "It's bloody irritating-

"But, I am-

"Save it," he grumbled. "Why you Gryffindors insist on covering everything up with fucking fairies and sunshine is beyond me-

"I'm not-

"You feel disorientated, right?" he questioned sharply. "Like your mind is doing cartwheels, and you have no idea what to do with yourself."

Hermione felt her mouth move with silent words. "I...how...

"In case you haven't noticed, we're in a similar boat here, Granger, so I know it's fucked up."

"A similar boat? What do you-

"I've been missing since June," he reminded her in a deadpan voice. "I'm sure my parents think I'm dead; decomposing somewhere in a shallow grave dug by one of your lot."

She cringed. "Draco-

"It's true," he interrupted, regarding her with a detached expression. "What other believable story could Snape have invented to account for my absence?"