Anchor and Rose | Dramione

Fourteen.

"Listen, Granger," Draco said, moving away to stand on the other side of the pavement that was smack bang in the middle of the open field he had brought her to. "The wand may be powerful enough to kill someone else, which is a good thing, but it could also kill you."

Hermione raised a brow at him as he kicked the snow at his feet. She watched the wind brush past his black hair-that had become a stable in his appearance every-time they had to leave the safe-house-before she replied.

"And how do you suggest I avoid blowing myself to smithereens then?" She didn't bother to lace her words with kindness. "Any bright ideas in that stupid head of yours?"

Hermione knew there was no reason to be kind to him. If anything, she wanted to be nowhere near him after the way he had drunkenly treated her the night prior to now.

He had been cruel and confusing. So childish and virulent. What made it worse is he had inwardly refused to even mention it afterwards at all. He was acting as if he hadn't called her the most disgusting words he could muster up while acting as if he might have kissed her.

It was cruel. It was simply cruel because it tore a dent in Hermione's brain and threatened to cause her a sense of confusion.

She promised to not let that happen to herself.

"Aren't you meant to be the greatest Witch to come out of Hogwarts?" Draco cocked his head to the side, letting the pale light from the snowfall against the sharp curves in his skin. "Shouldn't you know?"

"Didn't you project that you're a master at deflecting Dark Magic?" She quirked back, scoffing beneath her breath as she tangled her fingers around her wand that sat in her pocket. "Shouldn't you know?"

He clicked his tongue and took a few steps backward. Hermione noticed his fingers slipping into his pocket and she unconsciously prepared herself for a sudden attack.

"Do you remember how it felt back in first year when Ollivander gave you your original wand?" He asked with annoyance ridden behind his words, Hermione still kept her hands focused on his fingers that sat absentmindedly in his pocket. "It felt uncontrollable at first, right?"

Hermione nodded and noted she could feel the magic behind her wand tingling her fingers.

"How did you control it then?" He pressed on. "Or did you not have to try because you are Miss Granger and everything seems to always work out for you?"

Hermione grit her teeth. She knew he was provoking her on purpose, an act to cover up the words he had told her the night before as a result of the whiskey drenching his veins.

I can't keep my hands to myself, no matter how much you disgust me.

Hermione squared her shoulders and pushed his words to the back of her mind to focus on the task that had landed her in a large field on the outskirts of London. It was barren and empty, not one soul in sight.

The perfect time for Draco to curse her and take her back to Voldemort for redemption.

She inwardly laughed at the idea. She knew he was too stubborn to have her be proven right.

"I would breathe through my nose and curl my toes in my shoes." Hermione said, "I'd think of happy memories and use that to fuel the magic."

Draco nodded. "What kind of memories, don't tell me you pictured Ginger Cunts face in your mind to make yourself smile?"

Hermione kicked at the snow beneath her boots and grit her teeth even harder.

It took her so much willpower to not pull out her wand and jinx him in the face again. She had to remind herself over and over and over again he was just being Draco. A stupid boy trying to make her hate him even more than she already did.