𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐋, a dramione short story

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡.

DRACO HAD ENDED his relationship with the younger Greengrass sister, Astoria, months ago. Well, more like she had ended it. It hadn't exactly been the best situation for either of them, but it still saddened Draco nonetheless. They had, of course been arranged, but it didn't mean that there was no attachment between the two of them.

She had cheated on him with Terence Higgs, disgracing both her family and Draco's. He didn't discover this until she told him, and broke up with him right in front of his mother. It was a painful moment, not necessarily because he had been in love with Astoria but because she had become someone he was used to, and he had merely thought she was who he would end up being with. When one loses that constant sameness, the change is strenuous and unexpected.

He harbored an immense fear of losing someone else, and so he was hesitant to branch connections with Hermione. Such a strange game relationships are.

Hermione, of course, had fresh scars that still wept with the blood of her gut-wrenching end to her journey with Ron. She wanted to heal and move on and be happy again, because who wouldn't? But deep down within her was the belief that without that love, even if it was fake, she had no one. No one who would love her or care about her. Draco's pity was humiliating enough, but the fact that she had no one at all was even worse.

She felt like a burden. As though she was nothing but a weight upon Draco's shoulders, a responsibility that he wasn't even obligated to attend to. Her mind grazed over the idea of leaving, going to another permanent place where she wouldn't be someone's task, where she would be free of the chains that tied her to other people.

A rapping on the door woke Hermione from her thoughts. "You awake? I'm gonna make breakfast, if you want to come eat," Draco said through the door.

"Uh, yeah, I just need to get dressed," Hermione said meekly, shooting out of bed and digging through her duffel bag to find something to wear.

She selected a dark pair of jeggings and pulled out a fluffy sweater, putting it all on before really realizing what was on the top. An 'R' was embroidered on it, large and gold in the middle of the red cloth. It was Ron's, she realized, and she had mistakenly grabbed it before leaving. Suddenly she had two lonely tears glazing her cheeks, guilt and regret swimming in their streaks.

Finally Hermione changed into a purple hoodie that was a size too large for her and had no association with Ron. She shut the door and meandered out, looking for Draco.

"Good morning," he said as he fried something on the stovetop. "Are you okay?" was his first question when he looked up.

"I guess. I accidentally brought one of Ron's sweaters and, you know, that wasn't exactly easy," Hermione admitted.

Draco nodded. "We'll get rid of it soon, okay? You don't want to have something like that reminding you of him."

"Okay," Hermione answered, shakily taking a seat at the kitchen peninsula. "Whatcha making?"

"Bacon," Draco said as he turned around to face the other side of the counter. "And waffles."

This made Hermione smile, but then she was reminded of the fact that he was sacrificing his time and resources to feed her. "You don't have to make me anything, I can just go eat out or something."

"Nonsense," he said with a scoff. "You're eating here. My treat."

"Okay, fine," Hermione said, raising her arms in mock surrender. "As long as it isn't too much of a burden."

"You could never be a burden," he said casually. "Anyone would be lucky to know you." The words were a simple, friendly gesture, but they resonated in Hermione's head for longer than they should've.