Chapter 17
For the first time in three years, Draco had gone a week without touching Hermione. The absence of his relentless demands left her feeling strangely liberated. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, a respite she hadn't realized she desperately needed.
In the quiet solitude of her room, Hermione allowed herself to exhale deeply, savoring the unfamiliar sense of freedom. Without Draco's presence looming over her, his hands demanding and possessive, she felt a newfound clarity and independence.
Her thoughts drifted back to the week past—the absence of Draco's touch, his absence from her bed. It had been a week of reclaiming herself, of rediscovering the boundaries she had lost in the tumultuous dance of their relationship.
A sense of relief washed over her, mingled with a hint of apprehension. She knew Draco's absence wouldn't last forever, that their tangled web of desire and control would draw them back together inevitably. But for now, Hermione allowed herself to revel in the freedom she had reclaimed, to savor the space to breathe without the weight of Draco's presence suffocating her.
Closing her eyes, Hermione let out a quiet sigh, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was stronger than she had believed—strong enough to withstand the absence of Draco's touch, to embrace the newfound freedom that came with it.