Just a Kiss

Chapter 16

Draco paced, his thoughts running wild as he traced a path around the small perimeter of his room. There were countless ordinary things he could have been thinking of at this time. For example, Quidditch, or the next letter he was going to write his mother, or even the weather. Any of those standard thoughts would have sufficed and made him seem more sane than he currently felt. 

Instead, his thoughts linger on a certain sleeping witch just one room over.

The tale of her past seemed to be scorched into his memory with no hope of ever being forgotten. So it really came as no surprise that he was capable of recalling the story word for word but in doing so, he noticed that not once did she mention the name of her groom-to-be, instead opting to call him Weasel (among other colorful names). 

Of course, this didn't make a cause for confusion. Draco already had a perfectly correct guess as to who it was that hurt Hermione so immensely.

Ronald Billius Weasley.

The name itself, one that used to make him scowl with disgust and loathing, now made him shake with an indescribable rage. That foul prick had hurt her in more ways than one. First breaking her heart on, of all days, their wedding day. Then smacking her to the ground while his side-woman watched the entire scene. After those two heavy blows to the innocent Hermione, he disappeared and hasn't been seen for a year and a half. He left without a punishment or apology for his actions.

All of this was certainly enough to scar the young witch for Merlin knows how long, but why did she suddenly break down over it? As far as Draco could recollect, he hadn't mentioned the weasel for a while and he was sure that she wouldn't spend her time thinking about that prick if she could help it. So what caused this?

The only other person who was here recently was the she-weasel but she wouldn't bring up her brother to Hermione unless something important happened, of that he's positive. Maybe he's in the hospital, or was found dead somewhere? No. If either of those were true, she wouldn't have acted so resentful towards him, even after what he had done. There really is only one other explanation

"That prick came back!" He growls, halting in his angry pacing and standing still at the foot of his bed. "He came back from wherever he disappeared in and now is here to do who knows what to Hermione." 

If that weasel does anything to hurt her again or if he so much as comes to see her, he'll make sure he goes crawling back to wherever he came from. As long as Draco's here, Ronald won't ever lay another finger on his witch. He has no right to see her or speak to her.

Draco pauses, face twisting in confusion. "My witch? When in Merlin's name did I start referring to her as my witch?'" And since when did he start caring about what happens to her?"

He sits down heavy on his bed, feeling rather weary. 

 When had he started caring for her so much? The last he remembered was completely loathing the girl and everything she stood for. Sure she was sweet, kind, innocent, loving, incredibly intelligent and- no, he didn't care about her. In fact, he wouldn't care if Weasley came back here and broke her little heart all over again. He might actually thank the git.   

No, he can't even lie to himself. 

Draco's practically boiling with fury at the mere thought of him hurting her, never mind how he would feel if her actually came to Hermione again. 

What did this mean for him, though? Did he consider her a friend? If it is, he isn't entirely opposed to the idea. She wouldn't make a terrible friend, being all sharp wit and warm gestures if he's acting good. 

The idea of friendship doesn't ease the ache in his chest though. Every time he thought of the weasel and how he broke her heart, Draco's own heart twisted painfully. Whenever it happened, whenever he thought of how Weasley used to kiss her and...be with her, he felt angry and confused and something else that he couldn't quite place. It burned inside him, devouring every sane thought until all he felt was that raw, unfamiliar feeling. He desperately wanted to know what it was, if only to be able to mask the reactions it caused. He wasn't used to the feeling, it is foreign and unwelcome to him. If only he knew what it was so he could make it go away.