𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

☾ Chapter 32

☾

He returned alone, much earlier than usual.

It was still light outside, sunlight covering the broad forest as she stared out the window at birds, wildlife and the swaying of trees.

"I made a promise to you, and I couldn't uphold it," Draco sighed, walking up behind her before wrapping his hands around her waist, leaning down to unchain her ankle, "Get dressed."

"Where are we going?" She questioned, turning to face him with wondrous eyes.

"Just to pick up my prescription, but I presumed you wouldn't want to wear fleece pajamas in this weather. It's quite warm outside."

She nodded, leaving his grasp to change in the bathroom. She took a t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts he'd gifted her, slipping them on so she was more comfortable in the spring air.

When Hermione exited he was standing by the door; she took him by the arm, and they strolled out onto the path.

"I feel like we haven't walked in ages," she said quietly as his large hand intertwined with her small one, fresh spring breeze and warmth of the sun contrasting the rigid winter she'd been stuck in mere months ago.

"I'm glad you offered to come with me," he muttered, gently squeezing her hand. She squeezed back, knowing the slightest show of affection was to make up for his lack of emotional expression.

Draco couldn't properly use his words.

She hadn't remembered what the bloom of spring felt like, having been cooped up in the small cell from August to the end of February.

She could almost taste freedom on her tongue just standing beside him.

She wondered how free Ginny was. She wondered if Ginny knew the others were dead.

"How are you?"

She hardly expected the question, looking up at him in surprise. His silvery locks shined in the evening sun, grey eyes genuine and telling.

"Good," she answered quietly, confusion plastered on her expression as a small frown set in his brow.

"Are you sure?"

"Malfoy what is this, why are you asking so many questions? Is there something wrong-"

"I just can't help but think you pretend to enjoy my company," he untangled his hand from hers, stuffing them in his pockets, "I'm just... wondering if I'm doing an okay job at making you comfortable.."

The end of his sentence was barely audible; God forbid he show his personal prostitute a single shred of affection or concern.

But he'd never once seen her as a prostitute. She'd always been something. He didn't know what to call her. Perhaps a friend was a good place to start.

Something more than an acquaintance, more valuable than a whore.

But she was more than a friend.

Draco was incredibly conflicted.

"You are doing a lovely job at making me feel like less of a prisoner, Draco," she scoffed sarcastically, smile glimmering as the dimples of her cheeks revealed themselves.

She hadn't laughed or smiled in what felt like years, not since Harry and Ronald's deaths. She wondered if they knew she'd stopped coming to see them at night. That she was safe and snuggled next to a warm fire, tangled under the blanket of their supposed enemy.

Wondered if they knew she found peace.

"We've been living in the same house for over a month and I've never checked up on you," he muttered, almost disappointed with himself.