Manacled (dramione)

Chapter 65

June 2005

She pressed her hands over her mouth as she kept crying and crying.

Draco didn't touch her. When her sobbing finally slowed, she sat slumped against the wall, her shoulders still shaking.

She heard him inhale slowly.

"You don't need to do anything. I'm not expecting anything of you," he finally said in a quiet voice. "I won't approach again. Wait here, I'll call Topsy."

He shifted and turned, but her hand shot out, and she grabbed the hem of his robes. "No. No, don't leave."

Her hand shook, but she didn't let go.

"Don't go. I don't want you to go."

He stood beside her while she tangled her fingers in the fabric and kept leaning against the wall.

It took her half an hour before she could stand up and walk the rest of the way to her room. She paused in the doorway, her chest still hitching.

"How many wards?"

He was silent for several seconds.

"About eighty now."

She made it across the room and dropped on her side onto the bed, burying her face in the fabric of his cloak. It smelled like him. Cedar, oakmoss, and papyrus.

He pulled the coverlet up over her shoulder. She caught hold of his hand and gripped it. His skin was as warm as she remembered it. She pulled his hand against her jaw, her eyes tightly closed, and gripped it for several minutes.

She slowly let go of him. "You have to come see me so I know you're alright. Otherwise-I'll worry."

The next day Topsy brought a strengthening potion.

Hermione walked slowly around her room and then into the hallway, trailing her fingers along the wall.

Her head hurt less than it had in over a month, and her memories of Draco were growing clearer. They still felt distant, as though she were viewing them through a telescope in the back of her mind. The gaps in her recollection slowly closed. She remembered Severus' Unbreakable Vow and how she'd managed to trick Draco into leaving for long enough for her to go to Sussex.

It was increasingly clear why he'd been so paranoid about inspecting all her memories and ensuring in exhaustive detail that he knew precisely what schemes she had. She'd tricked him once; as Severus had said, Draco never intended to trust her again.

The realisation felt like an additional weight in her chest.

He wasn't using legilimency on her, but he still skimmed her mind using the manacles. He kept her under constant supervision.

He was still lying to her.

She'd suspected it for days, but now that she was able to think coherently, she was certain. She thought it was partly to keep her calm and partly to manage her.

She mulled it over, trying to sense the holes in the new, carefully crafted narrative he'd started feeding her since she'd regained consciousness. Where were the gaps? What were the inconsistencies?

She sat down on the bottom step at the staircase landing, deep in thought.

She heard footsteps, intentionally audible footsteps, and looked up as Draco came around the corner. His expression was carefully closed.

She stared at him. He was in wizarding robes, all black. Since she'd arrived at the manor she'd never seen him in anything but black. He looked as though he expected to have his picture taken.