His Girl by greenflowerpot

Chapter 7

- NOT MY STORY!! ALL CREDITS TO @greenflowerpot ON A03!!

Hermione was looking at him with mistrust written all over her face. Draco felt a pang in his chest that he tried to ignore. How many times had she looked to him for help or protection, her eyes loving and open, and now this? But Draco just needed time, just needed her to agree to stay. He could figure out everything as long as she stayed.

When she nodded, agreeing to his terms, he let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Good," he said. "That's good. You'll be safe here."

Hermione didn't say anything. Draco looked at her a long while, taking in the dark, bruise-like shadows under her eyes and her pink lips, pressed together nervously.

"It's late," he said finally. "Let's get you to your room."

Hermione paled.

"Y-you said you wouldn't hurt me," she said quickly. "You said that you wouldn't force me—"

Draco suddenly felt nauseous.

"To rest," he said. "Get you to your room to rest, is what I meant. Alone."

He tried not to dwell on what Hermione thought he meant.

Draco unlocked a back door in his study that led to his private wing of the house. He walked through first so she wouldn't have to have her back to him and was relieved when, after a pause, she followed.

"This is the North Wing," he said. "You should rest tonight, but I'll show you the kitchens and the garden tomorrow."

"You're not going to keep me locked in the room?"

"Do I really seem that awful?" Draco snapped. "Yes you'll be allowed out of the room, and I expect I'll give you food and water sometimes as well."

She was silent and Draco immediately regretted his tone.

"Sorry—I'm sorry. I didn't... It's just that you used to really like me," he said stiffly. "Once upon a time."

He turned to see her expression and found her looking at him curiously.

"You really do think I'm your old girlfriend," she said, and she seemed truly surprised.

"You were never my girlfriend," Draco corrected curtly. "Here—this room is yours."

They stopped outside a pair of double doors, the entry to Hermione's old suite. Draco had it redecorated a few years back, hadn't been able to bear knowing her white bookshelf and rose-colored bed and pretty little vanity table were sitting all alone in the room without her.

"I'm just down the hall," Draco said. "There, those black doors. If you need anything you can let me know. There aren't any clothes in the closet right now—I'm sorry about that—but tomorrow I'll order things for you."

Hermione looked into the room cautiously.

"Is this all for me? Do you have any other priso—guests?"

Draco shot her a sour look.

"No other prisoners. Believe it or not I don't make a habit out of this."

She opened the door wider and stepped in, looking around with wide eyes at the high ceilings, the crystal lighting. Draco, looking in from the hall, found himself hoping rather pathetically that she wouldn't notice that everything was untouched, the sheets never slept in. Better that she think he was normal, had friends and guests over regularly.

"Okay," she said slowly. "It's... it's very big."

Hermione turned to him then, her arms wrapped anxiously around herself. She looked small and vulnerable in the wide space and Draco's memory flashed back to the last time their eyes met in this room, the night she had been taken. His throat constricted and he held onto the side of the doorframe to steady himself.