Fractured Lines
Draco
Draco had always thought he understood control. Control over his emotions, his surroundings, the expectations of his name. But as he walked through Diagon Alley beside Hermione, every sense of control he had mastered over the years felt like it was slipping through his fingers.
She walked ahead of him, determined and unbothered, her posture screaming defiance. She hadn’t wanted him to come. That much was clear. And yet, here he was, hovering just behind her, his presence a silent warning to anyone who might think to approach.
He told himself that it was necessary. That it was about safety, about the reputation they both had to uphold. He told himself it had nothing to do with the way his stomach had tightened when he imagined her walking these streets alone, oblivious to the danger of simply existing in a world that still whispered about the war, about bloodlines, about him.
But even as he repeated those justifications in his mind, they felt like fragile shields against the truth.
The truth was that he couldn’t stand the idea of letting her go.
And he hated himself for it.
"Malfoy, stop looming," Hermione snapped, turning to face him. "You’re making it look like I’m some kind of captive."
Draco raised a brow, smirking just enough to be insufferable. "Aren’t you?"
Her eyes flared with irritation, and something about it made his chest tighten. Good, he thought. As long as she was fighting him, it meant he wasn’t the only one losing control.
"This was a mistake," she muttered, spinning on her heel and heading toward Flourish and Blotts.
Draco followed without thinking.
Hermione
She had made a grave miscalculation in agreeing to let Draco come with her.
It wasn’t just his presence—it was the way he filled the space, like the air around them was bending to accommodate his existence. Every time she turned, he was there, watching, assessing, his face an unreadable mask that only cracked when she pushed him.
And Merlin, did she want to push him.
He made her feel unsteady, like the ground beneath her feet wasn’t as solid as she thought. That was dangerous. That was unacceptable.
She was supposed to hate him.
And yet, as she pulled a book from the shelf, she felt him step closer, his breath warm against the back of her neck.
"Find something you like?" he murmured, his voice lower than necessary, sending a shiver down her spine.
Hermione stiffened. "Back off, Malfoy."
She expected him to step away. He didn’t. Instead, he reached past her, fingers brushing against hers as he plucked the book from her grasp.
"Interesting choice," he mused, flipping through the pages. "Didn’t peg you for the tragic romance type."
Hermione snatched the book back, heart hammering. "You don’t know anything about what I like."
Draco’s smirk deepened, but there was something else in his eyes—something that looked almost like uncertainty.
"Don’t I?" he murmured.
And for a terrifying second, Hermione wasn’t sure if he was talking about the book anymore.
Draco
What was wrong with him?
He was playing a dangerous game, one he wasn’t sure he knew the rules to anymore. Every time he thought he had a grasp on what this marriage was supposed to be—an arrangement, a necessary evil—Hermione would do something infuriating like stand too close or look at him with those sharp, knowing eyes, and suddenly, the lines blurred.
He needed them clear.
Because if they weren’t, he wasn’t sure what would happen next.
"Are we done here?" he asked, his tone harsher than intended.
Hermione frowned, but nodded. "Yes. Unless you have something else to hover over."
Draco clenched his jaw but said nothing.
As they exited the shop, Hermione turned to him, curiosity flickering behind her frustration. "What were you like as a student? Outside of the arrogance and the superiority complex?"
Draco blinked, caught off guard. "Is that your way of saying you’re interested in me, Granger?"
She rolled her eyes. "It’s my way of trying to understand the person I have to spend my life with. Humor me."
He hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. I was—" He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Driven. Competitive. More of a perfectionist than I care to admit."
Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "Sounds familiar."
Draco raised a brow. "Are you implying we’re similar?"
"Oh, absolutely not." Hermione smirked. "I had friends."
Draco let out a low laugh, surprising even himself. "Touché, Granger."
They continued walking, something lighter slipping into the charged air between them. But just as quickly as it came, it vanished when Draco caught sight of a familiar figure lingering near the apothecary.
Theodore Nott.
Draco stiffened, instincts kicking in. Theo’s gaze flickered to Hermione first, then to Draco, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
"Out for a stroll, Malfoy?" Theo drawled, tilting his head. "And with such fine company, no less."
Hermione sighed. "Oh, not this again."
Draco clenched his jaw. "Walk away, Theo."
Theo ignored him, stepping closer. "You know, Hermione, I have to wonder—do you ever get tired of the brooding? Or is it an acquired taste?"
Hermione crossed her arms. "If you’re trying to get a rise out of him, you’re wasting your time."
Theo’s smirk deepened. "Am I? Because from where I’m standing, he looks ready to hex me into next week."
Draco inhaled sharply through his nose, fists clenching. He wouldn’t give Theo the satisfaction.
"Let’s go," he muttered to Hermione, grabbing her hand before she could argue.
She let him pull her along, though she didn’t miss the way his grip lingered even when they were far from Theo’s view.
Draco didn’t let go. And Hermione didn’t pull away.
After a few moments of walking in tense silence, Hermione finally spoke. "Draco, you don’t have to worry about me and Theo."
Draco’s jaw tightened. "I don’t trust him."
"That’s fine. But trust me. Even if we didn’t choose this marriage, I would never betray you like that." Her voice was steady, sincere. "Loyalty means something to me."
Draco’s steps faltered for just a second, but he recovered quickly. He didn’t look at her, but his grip on her hand tightened, just slightly. "Good."
And for the first time, Draco realized he might actually believe her.
End of Chapter 9