Anchor and Rose | Dramione

Twenty-Nine.

Slight warning for suicide and anxiety mention. Nothing too heavy, but I thought I'd warn in advance.

Theo's casual and cogent confession that he had been the one to untangle Hermione from the clutches of the Black Lake's weeds back in November, was followed by an awkward, scarce silence.

Luna had made a small gasping noise and dragged Pansy out from the Drawing room by her arm, ushering that 'she had forgotten to turn the oven on'. Yet, in reality, Hermione knew she could smell the shock and embarrassment echoing from Hermione's skin and had taken it in her stride to not further said embarrassment and anger.

Pansy didn't leave without a fight. She had dug her heels into the rug and growled 'But I want to hear, I want to hear!', but ultimately had allowed Luna to drag her through the door and back out into the corridor.

Theo had paused midway in reaching out for a slice of cake and muttered, 'Oh-That-sorry, my bad, not thinking before I speak again, ah-"

And Hermione didn't even bother to look up to see Draco's reaction. She could smell the trepidation coursing in the room from the seams of his skin.

Theo scrambled out awkwardly, following the dusty footprints from Luna's boots and back out into the hallway, and set off Walburga Black's screaming once more.

Moments later, she and Draco began arguing for what felt like the first time in forever, but really was just a matter of weeks. In all honesty, the argument was slightly agar in Hermione's mind.

She was still half-dazed from the torture lingering in her bones and the shock of being brought back to her former Safe-House. Yet, all she knew is that Draco had felt betrayed, he had felt lied to.

He felt annoyed that she hadn't bothered to ever tell him the real reason she had escaped from Hogwarts, and ultimately ended up by his side in the wonky hotel on the outskirts of Scotland.

Moreover than being angry and his spitting words, she felt annoyed. How dare he try to blame her. How dare he try and make her feel like the criminal in this. How dare he call her a liar, when she was nothing of the sort. She was not a lair, she was not. She was simply a scared eighteen-year-old who still had never admitted to herself she had an anxiety problem.

If she had yet to admit it to herself, why would she have admitted it to Draco Malfoy?

And yet, despite his yelling and anger, Hermione knew deep down it was just fueled with worry. Deep down, she knew Draco reacted with anger because he was fucking terrified of losing the only person who had ever shown any thought in really caring for him.

After one last wail that he was furious that he had to find out about her near-death mission from Theo and not her own mouth, he had pressed her flush against the piano and kissed her until she couldn't breathe. He kissed her until her breath halted in her lungs and until she was scratching his back for some sort of attempt to recourse herself back to reality.

Of course, they had been interrupted by a very red-faced Theodore Nott who stumbled inside of the Drawing room and whispered, 'Sorry! Sorry, oh! Um? You two? Anyway-forgot my wand...'

"I'm sorry for yelling at you." Draco said once they were situated back inside of Hermione's room a few hours later, after Kreacher had declared to have made dinner yet just handed them all a sandwich filled with mud.

"You shouldn't have yelled at me." Hermione sighed, climbing beneath the covers of the bed and wincing just slightly as she felt her bandage gnawing at the scar she had yet to look at. "I was bound to have told you one day."