𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

☾ Chapter 22

☾

"I'm not taking you back there, Granger."

It had only been an hour since Fred's death, and Draco had taken her to his cabin once she was stable enough to walk. The moment she'd stepped inside, she crumbled down again.

"But my friends need me, please," she begged, voice hoarse from sobs as leftover tears streamed down her cheeks.

"It's too dangerous," he sat down on the couch beside her, another one of his blankets draped over her knees.

"But I'm so tired," she pleaded to him with glossy eyes, "I just want to go to bed-"

"Who said you can't do that here?" He lifted the blanket further over her body with a scoff, "Take the couch, Granger. I could care less."

She looked up at him with a worn yet appreciative expression, nose bright red and puffy.

"Really?"

"I'd take the offer while it stands, Granger," he muttered, standing from the couch with a sigh, "I'll walk you back when this mess is cleaned up. Tea?"

She gave a sleepy nod, sniffling as she buried herself further under the white blanket's warmth.

By the time the kettle had whistled and Draco had returned with the steaming glass of china, she was already fast asleep next to the warmth of his crackling fire.

He hadn't rested that morning as she did.

Instead he sat on the black velvety armchair in the corner of his cramped living room, the only thing he'd taken from Malfoy Manor, other than some of his Mother's personal items.

He watched over her like a guardian angel for the three hours she slept.

An angel of death.

The impulse to slip under the blanket beside her never subsided, but Draco had far too much control to allow himself to submit to his urges.

When she awoke there was sunlight spilling through his windows, his eyes slightly dazed with morning as he sat in the same position he'd been in for hours.

"How long was I out?"

His gaze turned from the delicate pages of his book to her sunkissed face, slight indents beneath her eyes where remains of her insomnia slept.

"A few hours," he slipped a bookmark into his book before shutting it closed, "We should get going."

She simply nodded as he stood from the chair to grab his coat, her doing the same. He blanketed her with a warming charm before striding out the door, into the morning cold.

The walk to the cell was excruciatingly silent.

Hermione had never enjoyed the silence, no matter the circumstance. And if that meant speaking about her dead friend, so be it.

"What do you think he did? I mean, to make them beat him like that-"

"I don't know, Granger," he sighed, his warm air mingling with the cold in a huff of breath, "It could've been anything. We're getting close, stop asking questions, okay?"

She obeyed.

............

She'd thought Ginny was asleep when they returned to the cell.

Draco had dropped her off with a nod, locking her inside as he always did. He could almost feel the disappointment in her slumped shoulders every time he left her; it made him experience a deep sense of guilt, one he couldn't rid.