Anyone But Me

Chapter Sixty

The next morning Draco had spent time that neither of them had continuously promising to find a way to let her know that he was okay over break. It took no persuasion on her part, if anything his act of contrition had seemed over the top, leaving her to wonder if it was sincere or not. Her suspicion was only reinforced as the days slowly went by and she heard nothing from him.

She wanted to reach out but her overthinking complicated things and kept getting in her way. What was the best time to reach out? Did Death Eaters meet over breakfast? Afternoon tea? Or was it more likely to be in the cliched dead of night? Would her ill-timed questioning end up being their downfall?

Hermione knew it was highly unlikely that he would be touching someone at any given moment throughout the day (or night), but that didn't stop her hands from shaking every time she went to pick up her wand with the purpose of sending him a coded message. Quickly prompting her to rush back to the security of the tattered book of fairy tales she had left untouched on her shelf for years prior. The well-loved pages were the only thing that she had found capable of keeping her interest for more than a few minutes at a time.

There was the ordinary solace she often found in being able to get lost in a story, made all the more engrossing with how she was able to figure out which spells or potions had been needed to achieve each magical feat. She was halfway finished with the rather depressing story of Rapunzel when the sudden sound of beak tapping against glass broke her concentration.

An unfamiliar owl perched on the window box, waiting for her to come and receive its delivery. Large yellow eyes stared in at her as she sat completely still... Dubious on if she could trust the origins of the unknown bird or not, it ruffled its dark brown feathers impatiently before pecking at her window once again.

When she did not move, it hooted loudly enough for her to hear through the barrier between them. Annoyed with her stalling, it gave another impatient hoot and started to incessantly rap at the glass. The grating sound quickly had her on her feet leaving her no choice but to rush to open the window, worried the amount of noise would attract the prying eyes of her neighbors.

The owl nipped at her fingers as she tried to take the letter, only allowing her access once she had given it an owl treat that she had reserved for visits from Hedwig or Pigwidgeon. After finally being placated with her meager payment and then relieved of its delivery, the large bird hooted one last time in displeasure and flew away, leaving her to watch its ascent into the night sky.

She closed the window tightly, impulsively checking the shadowed corners in the garden before returning to her bed. Once comfortable she finally inspected the letter in her hands. The crisp white lines of the expensive envelope hinted at the sender before she had even turned it over. There were not many people with whom she regularly corresponded that cared enough to take their time when preparing a letter. Messages to her were normally scrawled on leftover pieces of parchment and sloppily shoved into an envelope in their haste to be sent off.

Her hypothesis was confirmed when she flipped the envelope over and took in the neat script she had come to miss seeing in quickly scribbled notes left for her. A loaded sigh lifted her shoulders. She was grateful for the physical confirmation that he was alive and well enough to write to her, but also infuriated by his continued indifference to her requests for assurance. How could he claim to care when he had slipped into a nasty habit of breaking his promises?

For a long moment she imagined crumpling the paper and throwing it in the bin. The only thing that stopped her from fulfilling her vision was the chance that Draco could be reaching out for some type of help. If he had and she ignored the plea, she knew the guilt would eat her alive. So she opened up the envelope and pulled the luxuriously soft sheet of parchment from inside, rapidly scanning the meticulously penned text for the words she dreaded. When nothing jumped out as alarming she started a more thorough reading...

Dearest Princess,

Forgive me of the transgressions against my honor bound vow!

I can hear your well-deserved chastisement from here and I cannot blame you. Just know that while I find myself in the presence of such fellowship it seems sacrilegious to even think of your existence, muchless abide by the commitment I gave upon our parting. The hardest of tasks, I assure you, when everything threatens to remind me of the scowl I am sure is on your face as you read this.

Nevertheless, I have found a much more ostentatious way to relay the message that I am fine. Bored to the point of tears, maybe, but fine nonetheless. So stop tormenting yourself like you surely are, alright? Your luck isn't high enough to be rid of me that easily, pet.

Oh no! I have made plans to infuriate you for as long as you will have me...

It is unfortunate that I am unable to relish in the particular rush of adrenaline that evokes many memories of our recklessly written notes and having to trust they would find their owner untouched. I never thought I would miss how your eyes lit up as you feverishly read the lewd musings of a young man's mind. Are your cheeks turning that brilliant shade of pink? Even now, removed from the constant cues of reminiscence on our times together in the castle? The egomaniac inside of me sure hopes so!

Now that I have managed to complete my obligation I must return to helping make life and death decisions. Did you know that the world might stop spinning if my mother picks the wrong shade of light green linens for her Easter celebration this Sunday?

I sure as hell didn't.

Having said that, I can only hope that you are following your own advice: Eat. Sleep. Take care of yourself. Stay safe. And most importantly- Come back to me in one piece.

Till we meet again,

An Enthralled Suitor

P.S. My apologies must go out for the mangy beast delivering this. I should warn you that he is a bit... tenacious, but he was the only inconspicuous alternative that I could find under the unique circumstances.

Hermione's eyes roamed the page again, stopping on the most important bits.

Forgive me...

I am fine...

As long as you will have me...

Come back to me...

Till we meet again...

Somehow, buried between the lines of drivel that could be found in any romantic teenage correspondence, he knew the exact words she needed to hear. In the same way she knew that she should still be angry that he had ignored her request for days... He knew that his reassurances could not be summed up in a few words. At least not in a way that would legitimately placate her pathological concern.

Who could be easily comforted when their nemesis turned secret lover was having mint green themed luncheons with genocidal lunatics?