The Silver Envelope

Invisible Vow

Draco wasn't sure when it had happened.
Perhaps when she had faced down his mother, brazenly acknowledging her plotting. Maybe it had been when he'd taken her to his old bedroom where she'd promptly and thoroughly humbled him.
Or when he'd held her in his arms, heart beating wildly as she clung to him for support.
In all likelihood, it had happened long before tonight.
But now there was no avoiding it: she was his.
Not his possession. He had no right to claim her like that.
His responsibility.
Her safety, her happiness those were his to safeguard, he'd decided.
And no one was going to stop him.
He kept an arm around her waist, steadying her as they walked into her tiny flat. She was walking fine now, but he wasn't ready to let her go, and she seemed to have enough sense not to fight him on it. He led her to the sofa in her sitting room, looking around only once she was settled.
It was practically a library. Every inch of free wall space in the sitting room was lined with shelves and crammed with books. The place was relatively tidy, though he could tell she hadn't been expecting company. A large orange cat with a squashed face wandered into the room, meowing crossly as though they had woken it from a good nap. It jumped onto Hermione's lap and nuzzled her. He couldn't blame the creature. It was cold in here, and he wondered if the place even had heating. He pointed his wand at the small fireplace and a hearty, crackling fire roared to life.
"I. I think I'm feeling alright now," Hermione said timidly, quickly glancing at his face and away again. "You don't have to stay."
A polite dismissal. Perhaps she was uncomfortable having him in her personal living space. But Draco didn't want to leave her just yet, so she would have to be more direct if she really wanted him to go.
He spotted a small blanket thrown over the arm of a chair in the corner and retrieved it.
"Put up your feet," he said, making to spread the blanket over her legs. She kicked off her shoes and did as he asked, tucking them under herself. The cat crankily adjusted himself on her lap.
"Really, Draco, there's no need to fuss-" Hermione started to say, but Draco held up a hand to stop her.
He seated himself on the other end of the sofa and said, "If you're not too tired, there are still some things we need to talk about. Starting with why you came to dinner tonight."
Hermione bit her lip nervously and gave him an unconvincing shrug.
"I'm not sure. Curiosity, I suppose. I wanted to know why your mother invited me," she said.
Draco got the sense she wasn't telling him everything, but it would be foolish to push her too far
right away. He'd have to ease her into it. The argument they'd had at Malfoy Manor hung between them like an invisible film, transparent but a barrier nonetheless. Her cat surveyed him from its place on her lap with suspicion, as if it knew.
He settled on a peace offering of information. In exchange for her honesty, he would give her a window into his private life.
"My mother...she's been concerned about me," Draco said quietly, watching the fire. "She's the
sort of person who knows how to spin a situation to her advantage. I think she's trying to do that for me, through you. I've told her I don't want her help, but she can't seem to let it go." Hermione was silent for a moment, then said, "Do you agree with her? That some sort of. arrangement between the two of us would be a good idea?"
He looked at her, raising a brow, feeling the ghost of a smirk twitch up the corner of his mouth.
"Granger, are you asking me out? Again?" he teased, enjoying the innocent blush that rosed her cheeks. He could imagine many ways to make her blush like that.
"That's not what I meant," she said. "Tonight, I said something that I, well, I suppose I regret." She fiddled with a coiling lock of her hair, not meeting his eyes. Draco kept silent, not sure how to respond.
Her knee, which peeked out from the blanket that he had draped on her lap, was close to his. He
remembered touching his shoe to hers under the table earlier, and the electric excitement he had felt when she hadn't pulled away. Incredible, that she affected him so vividly, that even the idea of almost touching her had him balancing on the sharp edge of his nerves.
She cleared her throat quietly, snapping his attention back to her face.
"Um, but I think it would probably be best if we were only friends," she said, eyes cast downward.
"What happened at the Ministry the other day... that shouldn't have happened."
Draco willed his expression into a wall of smooth, blank steel- even as he felt his stomach drop.
He had seen this coming. Had known it all along, really. But while it wasn't a surprise, it still stung. Hermione knew he wasn't right for her, just as surely as he knew it. He was simply worse at fighting it, apparently. It was pathetic of him to pine after her like this, knowing how utterly wrong
thev were for each other
And yet, as he examined her nervous fidgeting, her tense shoulders, her quick, heated glances, he couldn't quite believe she had given up on him, not entirely. She was holding herself back. That moment in the lift the other day, that had happened because her willpower had slipped, not his.
True, she had also been the one to stop it, but he had the feeling that it certainly wasn't because she hadn't enjoyed their kiss. On the contrary, he was willing to bet that she had ended the kiss precisely because of how much she had enjoyed it.
Draco decided he would let her have this piece of feigned control. It could be his Christmas gift for her, the illusion of friendship between them. She could have her little delusion if that was what she wanted. And inevitably, when that tight control of hers slipped again, he would be there to rip the rest of it away once and for all.
Of course, there was always the possibility that he was wrong. He knew that if she truly didn't want to pursue the obvious, crackling, blazing attraction between them, that was her right. He
would find a way to accept that, in time.
But, judging from the way she looked at him now, through lowered lashes and with quiet, heaving breaths, he felt certain that she would prove him right soon enough. All he had to do was wait.
Wait, and hold himself back from her, even as her knee slightly brushed his. Even as her eyes dropped to his lips again, as if recalling their kiss..
A horrible, jarring, high-pitched ringing sound came from somewhere in the flat. Draco reached for his wand, but after an initial jolt of surprise, Hermione seemed unperturbed by the sound. The strange noise clanged through the place again, and Draco felt the air return to his lungs as Hermione left his side, brushing away her grumpy-faced cat and lifting herself from the sofa.
He watched with curiosity as she picked up an odd, mugglish device that was hanging on her kitchen wall, held it up to the side of her face, and spoke into it.
"Hello?" she said, slightly out of breath, turning away from him while she spoke.
Draco heard a faint, muffled voice coming out of it, but he couldn't make out any words. He waited while Hermione listened to the device, watching her expression closely. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, looking annoyed at whoever was talking to her through it.
"No, I was out. I haven't even had a chance to open them yet," she said, then waited for more muffled conversation from the other person. "Yes," she snapped suddenly, "I really did have plans..
...It's not really your business, is it, Harry?"
Ah, so she was speaking to Potter through that contraption. Interesting.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that I was such a hot topic of conversation even though I wasn't even there," she said acidly. "And I'lI thank you not to speak for me next time.
She paused while Harry spoke for a while, her face slowly going from anger to resignation. She sighed.
"Of course I still want to come," she said quietly. "I just.. don't know how it's going to work yet."
Another pause, then, "Alright. Tomorrow. No, my place. I don't want him to come."
Draco's jaw tensed as he realized who "him" must be.
She told Potter goodnight and placed the muggle thing back on the wall.