Isolation

34. Amity

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Draco guessed it had been about four hours since Granger had woken up, and they had passed the time with little spells of conversation, broken up with long stretches of comfortable silences. He'd told her about his stay at Andromeda's, about the news of Ted's death, which had made her frown, and then about Teddy being born, which had made her smile. In turn, she had told him many things; from Potter's reaction to the news of their unconventional relationship, to the progress with the Horcruxes, and she had done so with such trust and ease, like any lingering doubts about his loyalties were completely gone.

Like he was one of them.

He'd noticed that she'd refrained from mentioning Weasley, which suited him just fine for the time being. Bringing up her ex-lover would only irritate him, and he was reluctant to break the relaxed and content mood when he'd only just had her back, and that was also why he'd resisted confronting her about the stunt she'd pulled back at Hogwarts. It might have felt like they'd been separated for a lifetime, but the cruel way she'd Petrified him and slapped a Portkey against his hand felt like yesterday, and all the resentment and questions that came with it were raw and unanswered.

But it could wait if it ensured this temporary moment of peace would be prolonged.

"Draco."

"Hm."

"You're not...Um, I'm not quite sure how to put this. What I mean is...you're not-

"Spit it out, Granger," he sighed. "Don't you think we're a little past being reserved with each other?"

"You're not uncomfortable with our relationship any more," said Hermione, her tone anxious. "You're not...fighting it."

"Seemed like a pointless exercise," he shrugged.

"But why have you stopped? What changed?"

He paused and released a long breath. "Nothing changed, and that was the problem," he said, deciding she deserved honesty despite the protests of his pride. "The distance didn't alter anything, Granger; you were still under my skin. To resist you now would be senseless and...self-destructive."

She hummed behind her lips, and he thought she might be smiling. "I missed you too, Draco."

.

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Hermione fell asleep a little while after that, wrapped up in his arms and body heat, and breathing softly against his chest. Judging by the mood of the sky, Draco guessed it was mid-afternoon, and the hours rolled by quite quickly considering he didn't move. He'd tried to fall asleep with her, but his mind was too busy with the usual thoughts; his parents, the war, her, and his place amongst it all. The only conclusion he could reach was that he was in love with Granger, to the point that it blotted out the other factors and made them blurry and irrelevant.

Yes, he loved her, and realised he had done for longer than he cared to admit.

To feel so vulnerable and empowered at the same time, and when the mind is somewhere between serenity and insanity, it means love's to blame.

There was little point in deluding himself any further and denying it to himself. After all, he'd told her himself; muttered it to her last night as she'd slept, and the fact that she was unconscious at the time did little to dent the confession. He knew that words always seemed so brittle and gauche when he struggled to express himself, and he hoped his actions would be sufficient, and that was best thing about Granger; he knew she would never ask him to say it.

She must've been sleeping for around four hours when there was a knock at the door, and a growl rumbled in Draco's throat. He ignored it, knowing it was probably Potter or Weasley who had inevitably come to shatter their peace, and he would delay them as long as possible.