Hermione rushed out of the room before McGonagall could futilely attempt to console her again, and her shaky legs moved into a desperate sprint to get back to her dorm. She dashed down the empty and shadow-silent corridors; hot tears spilling from her eyes as she whipped around the corners and stuttered out her password. Shutting the door behind her, she gave the space a quick scan to ensure Draco was still in his bedroom, before she leaned back and willed herself to find some composure.
She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and dug her fingernails into her scalp as she forced herself not to cry. She was so angry at herself; this had been all her idea, and she should have been more emotionally prepared, but the dread was laced around every one of her tense muscles, and the sorrow was wrapped painfully around her heart.
Everyone she loved was slowly disappearing; Harry and Ron, and now her parents. Who was next?
"Granger?" his voice startled her. "What the hell are you doing?"
She quickly straightened her back and attempted to discreetly rub away the damp tracks on her cheeks before her blood-shot gaze sought him. He was just outside his bedroom, studying her with curious eyes that made her feel far too vulnerable and completely revealed for him to read.
"Nothing," she mumbled, clearing her throat when it sounded too scratchy. "Nothing-
"Doesn't look like nothing," Draco commented dryly, frowning when he noticed the glittering remains of tears locked between her lashes. "Have you been crying?"
"No," she said quickly. Too quickly. She lowered her head and made for her room. "I have some things I need to do-
"Hold on," he argued, moving into her path. "You're hiding something-
"Move out of my way-
"No," he refused sternly. "Don't lie to me-
"Draco, I swear," she warned, but her voice cracked. "If you don't move-
"Just tell me what's wrong," he persisted, grabbing her wrist and trying to see her face. "Has someone hurt you?"
"No, Draco," she shook her head fiercely, trying pull away. "Just get off me-
"Not until you tell me what's wrong-
"LET GO OF ME!" Hermione screamed, snatching back her hand with a surge of anger. "WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?"
"What the FUCK is your problem?" he spat furiously. "I only asked-
"Well, don't!" she retorted, slipping around him and scrambling for her room. "I just want to be left alone-
"FINE!" Draco yelled at her back, his barks fuelled by his sense of rejection. "IF YOU WANT TO BE ALONE, YOU CAN FUCKING BE ALONE!"
Hermione slammed the bedroom door behind her to cut his shouts short, and muttered a quick Silencing Charm to ensure she couldn't hear him, and he couldn't hear her. If she was going to succumb to another round of sobs, she didn't want him to know about it. She couldn't deal with Draco right now; she needed all of her attention on her parents, and she refused to let him muddle her tempestuous thoughts when her Mum and Dad required every morsel of her racing mind.
Priorities. Priorities. Priorities.
She drew in a shuddering breath to ease her shaking limbs before she grabbed her book on Memory Spells and hunched over her desk. She'd read the text countless times and the sentences were so familiar, but for the next six hours she concentrated on engraving them into her skull and practicing the angles of her wand. Hermione did everything she could to remain composed and focussed, but every now and then, a tell-tale tear would kiss a page and betray her torment.
When her lids began to flutter around midnight, she decided that it was wise to at least try and steal a few hours' sleep if she wanted to be alert and capable for the heart-numbing task in the morning. Her movements were sluggish as she undressed and crawled under her covers, mentally reciting the passages from the book and trying to ignore the fact that her parents would forget her before breakfast.
Her mind slipped to the argument with Draco, almost accidentally, and she wished that she'd handled it differently.
She could have done with his arms around her tonight.
.
.
Draco drummed his agitated fingernails against the desk.
After Granger had left him in a frustrated state, he had stomped pointlessly around the dorm in an effort to blow off some steam, but he had found himself screaming at her locked door no less than five times without a response. He didn't know what annoyed him more; how she had behaved, or the fact that he had no idea why she'd screamed at him to leave her alone, before she'd isolated herself in her room.
He hated not having his wand.
Just a quick spell and he could have barged in there to demand what had affected her so much, and he would be lying to himself if he didn't realise there was a certain degree of protectiveness that needed to know the reason for her tears. The concept of someone hurting her, be it physically or emotionally, made his head throb and his blood curdle. He had no idea when this new and intense regard for her welfare had settled into his system, mingling with all the other notions that shouldn't have been there, but it was driving him insane.
He just wanted to know what, or who, had upset her; needed to know.
His storm-grey eyes studied his empty bed bitterly.
He'd spent less and less nights in his room, and when he did it was a voluntary decision on the days when he remembered that he shouldn't be interested in his Muggle-born lover. Those protests in his head and pride had been getting quieter recently, and the thought of sleeping alone in here made him feel cold and uneasy.
He rested his brow against his knuckles and released a heavy breath.
He had a feeling the nightmares would return to haunt him tonight.
.
.
.
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