Sang Sacré

Chapter 15

Even days later, Narcissa's parting words worried Hermione. Harry was never good about letting things go, especially when there was a secret he wanted to know the answer to. To her knowledge, he'd always been like this, even when they met at age eleven.

It worried her to not hear from him in the days following the chaos at Grimmauld Place. Just as he had spent the bulk of sixth year obsessing over wild theories about Draco, Hermione could only begin to imagine how Harry's imagination was shaping ideas about the events in his house.

She couldn't let Harry occupy all of her thoughts, however, as she was still trying to build a relationship with Draco. They'd stayed up all night talking after getting home from Grimmauld earlier in the week.

"How are you feeling, with everything?" He'd asked uncertainly, the refrigerator door falling shut with a soft click as he handed her the bowl of fruit she'd asked him to retrieve.

"I'm fine. I'm just hoping it's not too late for Ron and Pansy, of course," Hermione murmured as she picked through the strawberries, trying to find the most appetizing ones to snack on.

Draco frowned and tapped an unfamiliar tune on the countertop before he had very slowly reached over and grabbed her hand, prompting her to look back at him.

"Granger, you know what I'm referring to," he'd replied quietly.

Her eyes slammed shut, the images ricocheting around her brain. She gulped, her racing heart and shaking hands betraying the emotions she'd tried so hard to bury. Twigs breaking under hurried steps, a curly-haired witch, the sound of glass shattering, a screaming voice that sounded like her own, the searing pain of every nerve ending being set aflame. Sensing her hesitation, Draco spoke again, his voice warmer and comforting this time.

"You can tell me anything. It'd be safe with me... I know that talking about... that woman wasn't easy for you. I should speak to Mother about it-"

She shook her head and focused her attention on his hand still on hers. His touch was grounding. She took a deep breath. Then another. Better.

"She's her sister. She's allowed to care about her. It's just not easy to hear about it." She was relieved when her heart began to slow. This wasn't a bad episode, just a passing one.

"Yeah, I can imagine," he squeezed her hand, and the way he looked at her felt like a caress.

"Thanks, Draco," she squeezed him back, her heart settling to its normal pace in her chest.

The rest of the night had been spent discussing how stubborn Ron and Pansy were. They both knew that they would eventually need to talk about the war but simultaneously understood the unspoken plea of Please, not yet. It was much easier to roll their eyes and joke about their friends, though Draco still detested the idea of even being around Ron.

Hermione and Draco grew closer every day, determined to make it through the safe topics as quickly as possible. Essentially, they were in the midst of a never-ending game of Twenty Questions. They took turns asking random questions and sharing seemingly pointless facts. It wasn't all for nothing, though, as Draco confessed to her that he only missed two things about Malfoy Manor: his potions lab and the lake out back in the summer.

These developments weren't the only changes Hermione noticed in their relationship. Physically, things were evolving as well. Casual touches became more frequent, and she found herself seeking him out as much as he sought her. Their nighttime cuddles were also becoming more weighty; gone was the formality of connection as it had been right after their bonding. Now, when they went to bed at night, they met in the middle and intertwined their limbs in the way lovers found peace.