Bloodlust

Chapter XXXIII

He couldn't help but wonder if convincing Hermione to leave would be easy if the opportunity came along. How high does he think of himself to think that she'd hesitate when all she wanted to do was escape?

The cup in his hand shattered, unknowingly channelling his frustration into it. He stared at the wound that healed within seconds before his eyes. It barely bled.

Part of him still doesn't trust the Order for Hermione's safety. He also couldn't rely on Hermione for her safety. It was clear she was unstable and unpredictable. When she's back with the Order, who knows what she'll do to herself with all the freedom she had there? The suicide pills, her wand privileges, and the full recovery of her magic when she's off the Manor wards. He could barely instruct her when she was still under his roof. How much more if she's on her own?

He shoved the thoughts in the back of his mind, far enough that he'll forget he ever thought of it. Everything was fucked up, and the last thing he wanted to happen was to ruin the only good thing happening in his life at the moment.

It was late when he returned home, and he found her asleep on his desk, surrounded by books, parchments, jars of ink, quills, newspaper clippings from The Daily Prophet. Her curly hair sprawled all over her notes. Panic pulsed in his chest as he remembered he had not suicide-proofed his office, but felt relieved upon silently checking if she was still breathing.

He walked around the desk and noticed a bulletin board hanging on the wall.

"You're back..." she mumbled in a sleepy tone and stood to meet him, embracing him from behind, burying her face into his back with her eyes closed.

She felt the tight tension leave his body as he turned and faced her.

"Your embrace gets tighter every time, Granger," he teased and lifted her to sit on the edge of his desk. "Are you plotting murder on me with each embrace? Because if you are, it's working pretty great, I must say."

"I was worried. You were gone for almost three days," she replied, hugging tighter.

"There's too many things to deal with at the ministry."

She jolted against him as though her body had gone into alert mode after hearing his reply.

"What happened? Was there an ambush again? Was someone caught?" She worriedly asked, pulling away from the hug, attempting to read the situation from his facial expression.

"Nobody is caught. The resistance is quiet these days. There's nothing to worry about."

Silence reigned between them, and it was easy to sense the worry that began to consume Hermione.

"There's something you should know," she finally said, heading towards the bulletin board.

He stood right behind her, arms crossed, and eyebrows creased, waiting for her theory.

"What's this?" Draco asked.

The Dark Lord's photo was pinned at the topmost centre of the board. Beneath him were the newspaper clippings of the Soleils.

"I don't know what they're up to, but I know they're planning something big," she started and faced him.

"Tell me, what else do you know about them?" She demanded and grabbed a marker from his desk.

She snapped her fingers between his eyes, snapping him back to reality as he seemed to zone out.

"Quick, what else do you know about the connection between the Dark Lord and the Soleils?" She asked with evident desperation.

He blinked several times as he studied the look in her eyes – if she was serious.

"I don't think you are ready for that kind of information yet, Hermione... and this?" He pointed at the bulletin board. "You're not supposed to be doing this, not right now," said Draco, walking past her towards the window.