Anchor and Rose | Dramione

Thirty.

I am estimating around 10 more chapters for this fanfic. As you may be able to tell, I've been including much more in each chapter, nearly doubling the number of words. Don't worry, though!

I have my next dramione fanfiction already planned out and I already am so passionate for it, so don't forget to follow my wattpad to know when it is posted.

Thank you for 50k reads. I love you.

Maybe all Draco needed was a little bit of space.

Hermione knew that there was something bothering him from the moment he dismissed her in the Drawing room and told her to leave him alone in the art room on the fourth floor.

It wasn't a surprise that something was bothering him. Hermione had gotten used to the fact he always had something bothering him. Like she thought yesterday, it was becoming slightly exhausting.

She already had enough to deal with, let alone having to deal with Draco's caustic mood swings. It was like she had to constantly tread on the edge when she was around him, wondering whether he was going to explode at any wrong word.

But then again, Hermione had to consider that she wasn't the only person struggling. She had to remember that he too, was going through so much turmoil that he was anxious, that he was sad and lonely and confused.

He had run away from death because his mother was killed. He still had no clue why or how his mother was killed.

She had to remember that he too would be scared.

Hermione watched the daylight arise from behind the window of the Drawing Room. She felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, and she basked in the comfortable warmness as she thought over Draco's situation. For the first time in a while, she felt guilty for not letting him be heavy-hearted too. She felt guilty for always relying on him in her times of blue, but not ever asking how he was.

She pondered while watching the pigeons fondle at the edge of the window, chirping happily and basking in the morning sunlight. It was times like this Hermione was reminded of the bitter snow in which she left Hogwarts in. It was times like this that she remembered she couldn't even produce a successful warming charm back in the hotel or on the boat, because her soul had been linked to a wand made from a Horcrux without her knowledge.

It was times like this she forgot just how important she was going to be in the outcome of the war.

Her ablaze of thoughts fumbled away as the Drawing-room door creaked open and she watched Draco stumble in wearing his usual silk pyjamas.

"You didn't come to bed," He said, walking towards her and into the warmth. "Did you even sleep?"

Hermione sighed, watching the sunlight drip through his white hair like raindrops. He fell beside her on the floor, grimacing at the dusty rug beneath his body and slid a hand around her shoulder as he leant back against the ridge of the sofa behind them.

"A little. I was distracted." She said truthfully, a small shrug echoing from her shoulders. "Did you sleep?"

He huffed and fingered the hem of his pyjama shirt as he spoke, like he was apprehensive of the conversation they were about to have.

"I was distracted too." He replied, voice dancing on the edge of being awkward. "I-I felt guilty."

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Don't you get whiplash?" She asked, glaring up at him with daggers in her eyes. "Aren't you tired of acting one way and then another?"

"Yes." Draco said simply, his eyes falling into her own before snapping to watch the birds frolicking behind the glass window like he was scared of melting into her stare.