Chapter 17
When Hermione woke up she was warm and comfortable and fully relaxed after possibly the best sleep of her life. Her pillow was soft but sturdy and she found herself burrowing into it more to try and get a few extra minutes before her roommates inevitably woke her with their bustling.
Hermione was a light sleeper. She always had been. Her dad once said he suspected it might be the result of something before her accident when she'd lost her memories. They'd never known anything about her life before she'd come to the orphanage, but they knew she'd never slept well.
Occasionally Hermione slept deeply when she was truly exhausted, but most of the time it was rough. She woke often in the middle of the night from nightmares she couldn’t recall, but could still feel as her heart tried to play catchup. The two times Hermione had fallen asleep with Draco surrounding her at the hospital wing and Regulus Black’s home, had been the soundest nights of her life. She'd woken with a calmness around her that she'd never achieved on her own. A few times her mum had taken her to meditation lessons, in hopes that she might learn tools to use, but none of them had ever helped like Draco seemed to.
Now though, now Hermione wasn't sure she ever wanted to wake up. Even with her eyelids still closed, everything felt good. Hermione didn't even realize what she was doing as she wrapped her arm over her pillow, that is, until she heard a sharp intake of breath.
Hermione froze and squeezed her eyes even tighter than before. This cannot be happening, she told herself. Maybe if she waited long enough it wouldn’t be true, she’d be laying in her bed in Gryffindor tower asleep and not still on the Durmstrang ship exactly where she told Draco she wouldn’t be by morning. Nevertheless, when Hermione opened her eyes she found Draco Malfoy awake and watching her.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly, her cheeks undoubtedly flushed with embarrassment at how close she'd forced herself to him.
She tried to move, pushing to sit up and away but something pulled her back. Draco, she realized, had an arm around her middle and rather than being cross, his expression was almost blissful.
“Hi,” His voice was soft and scratchy from sleep, and his lips broke into the smallest of smiles that made her heart flutter, “You stayed.”
No. No fluttering. He told you he didn't feel comfortable and you managed to do it anyway, she scolded herself and looked away. “Er, yeah," She paused and steadied herself for a moment, “Look, Draco I’m sorry, I swear this was an accident. You must believe I would never intend to make you uncomfortable, and I didn’t mean to overstay at all. I'm so so sorry.” She finished quietly, only chancing to look at him when she was done.
Draco’s brows and lips were pinched as though he found her amusing. “You haven’t.” He said, shaking his head.
Hermione's hands fiddled with the seam of her too long sleeves as she avoided his gaze again. “You’re kind. But I definitely meant to leave last night. You were so worried, and I promised I would and—”
“And I’m glad you didn’t.” He finished. Hermione wasn’t sure what the limit for blushing with embarrassment was, but she was sure she was approaching it as she froze her movements and looked up.
Her eyes searched his face for some kind of tell or indication that he was lying. But she found none. Draco just looked happy. In fact, the more she looked at him, the more pleased he appeared. His hair was mussed in a bedhead sort of way, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken, the blond strands seemed to flow freely in delicate curls she had never seen before. Furthermore, as she examined him, his eyes seemed alight with beautiful blue specs and his lips looked pillowy and soft and perfectly kissa—content to see her.
Hermione’s brain set off a million alarms at the train of thought she’d almost followed, but each of them were silenced by the sensation that began to grow across her lower stomach. The sensation that led Hermione to realize Draco’s hand that was wrapped around her, rested underneath her jumper and above her shirt —well, Draco’s jumper which Theo had told her to take, and Hermione’s shirt— and was rubbing circles against her. It was soothing and pleasant in ways she'd never have expected and the whole thing was perfectly distracting. She briefly wondered if he'd intended that result, as her worries faded to the background of her mind, and the only thing remaining were the words he'd last said.
“You are?” She asked, her eyes were locked on his.
Once again though, Draco took her by surprise as his free hand found her cheek and proceeded to stroke it almost reverently. “Very much so." He told her, and Hermione believed him.
She trusted Draco. She wasn't even sure if she could pinpoint exactly why that was, but she did. The way she felt whenever she was around him, it was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, like happiness and peace and safe somehow and just Draco. Which was probably why when his hand brushed her cheek again, this time she smiled and gently took it between her palms.
“Me too.” She told him, and she was. Then Hermione's eyes fluttered with sleepiness as she watched him and somehow she found herself laying against his chest once more, this time though, she rested her cheek on his palm too. It was hard to stay awake, with his gentle ministrations across her stomach, her heart felt as if it were begging her to just give in, to dream. And Hermione was, her eyes were closed as she unconsciously curled into the wizard and felt her mind drifting off completely, that is, until it was interrupted by a loud noise across the room that caught her attention.
Hermione looked up to find that something was scratching at the crack in the window to their room. She sat up to get a better view and was horrified at what she saw. A ball of orange fur —her ball of orange fur— had somehow managed to widen the opening and was indelicately forcing himself into the room. Hermione practically jumped up as she watched her familiar launch himself from the window and onto Theo’s nightstand.
“Crookshanks!” She hissed, not even paying attention as Draco’s hand stopped with her movements. Her eyes were locked on her feline who looked all too proud of himself to have found her hiding place.
The cunning cat briefly glanced at her, meowing in what was unquestionably a dismissal before prancing onto the other boy’s bed.
“Crooks!” She snapped quietly again. This time Draco sat up beside her.
“What?” He watched her in confusion, and she gestured across the room.
“My cat.” Hermione explained. “Crookshanks. I swear he’s usually a good boy but—” She cut off as her familiar literally jumped on top of Theodore—no, Harry…no it was Theo, maybe. She couldn’t tell which was on top. Hermione wanted to grin at the apparent tangle of limbs the two wizards had made of themselves overnight but was too distracted by Crookshank’s disobedience. “Crooks!” She hissed again, but rather than come to her, he leaned down and purred, clearly taunting.
Hermione grimaced as the cat proceeded to lick Theo’s face. Then, almost as if in slow motion she watched as the wizard began to stir from the contact. She looked to Draco to see what he thought, but his eyes were blown wide and trained on the interaction across from them.
Theo’s eyes opened slowly as her cat licked his cheek like he was his own. Theo seemed to take several seconds to process the interaction. It was clear when he had though, because he practically flew off his mattress and out of the bed. “What the fuck!” He snapped and turned to see her and Draco watching him. “Do you see both see that?” He sounded panicked.
“Yes.” Draco’s voice was strange.
Hermione swallowed her guilt at waking him, “Yes, I’m sorry, it’s—”
“Hermione, I swear if you don’t get your bloody cat away from me, I’m gonna let Ron cook it.” Harry groaned over her. He didn’t even notice any of their stares as he sleepily shoved Crooks away from where he’d crawled onto Harry’s chest and turned over on his pillow.
“My cat.” She finished.
“It’s not a cat.” The muffled voice came through and she rolled her eyes. “It’s a menace.”
Hermione forced herself to move then, climbing over Draco’s legs to jump down. He made a noise of protest but stopped when she squeezed his best friend's forearm.
“I’m sorry he woke you.” She apologized. Hermione wondered if Theo had never seen a cat before. From the way he was staring at Crooks, like he was a mythical creature or beast, she imagined he at least hadn’t been around many.
When Theo didn’t respond, Hermione walked the short distance to the other bed and grabbed her furry friend. He hissed when she pulled him up to her chest, but the two of them were well acquainted with one another’s moods. Once she started stroking his coat he purred, pleased with the attention.
“You naughty boy.” She scolded. “How many times do I have to tell you not to follow me? You almost gave Theo a heart attack.” Hermione’s words were as disapproving as she could be to the creature. He was far too perfect for her to ever stay angry with, so she followed it with a gentle kiss on his head. When she turned around again, she smiled sheepishly at Theo. “I’m sorry for that. This is Crookshanks.” She forced the cat to wave a paw at her friend. “He seems to have some attachment issues.”
“Your cat.” Theo repeated and she nodded.
“Yes, he’s my familiar at school because I don’t have an owl. Would you like hold him?” She offered
“Hold him?”
“You don’t have to.” Hermione didn’t mean to overwhelm him, and Theo looked terribly overwhelmed. “Most people don’t. He’s very particular about who he likes so it’s really only me who holds him. He jumped on you though, so I figure that must be somewhat of a good sign.”
“Right.” Theo nodded blankly.
“Have you ever seen a cat before?” She tried to find a better topic.
“Yes.” He answered. “I er, I had one. When I was a boy.”
“You did?” Hermione perked up, hopeful it would be a good connection, but instead Theo frowned.
“Yeah, he . . . he ran away.”
“Oh.” Silence fell over the room for several moments until Hermione felt just awkward enough to try and end it. She walked back to Draco’s bed, where he was now sitting up fully and watching her. “Can I . . .” She asked, gesturing to the blanket.
He immediately nodded and made room. “Yes, of course.”
Hermione set Crooks down and pet him slowly. “I’m sorry about your cat,” She told Theo. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine what I would do without Crookshanks.”
The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he followed her. “I understand.” He reached a palm out but froze at the last second. “May I?”
“Oh of course!” Hermione nodded, and watched as he began to stroke her cat. She tried to hide her excitement as much as possible. Theo seemed nervous at first, but the second his hand made contact, Crookshanks practically melted and crawled to lean against him. “He likes you.” She smiled.
Theo’s eyes met hers, “Do you think?”
“Yes, absolutely. He doesn’t do that with anyone, even me really, and I’ve known him for as long as I can remember.”
Theo seemed to latch onto that, and he looked curious. “You have? How did you find him?”
“Well, really it was more as if he found me. When I was a girl, he showed up one day outside of my window. My mum said he was a stray, so we shouldn't let him be. But he showed up the next day too, and the next. My mum called him my little neighbor for a while. I started sneaking him snacks from the kitchen and leaving them on the balcony every night so he would come back. Then one day it got cold, and he still showed up. It was practically freezing, and I told my mum I couldn’t go to school while he had to sit outside by himself. I wanted to bring him in. My dad told me I couldn’t because he was dirty, so I told them I’d sit with him.” Hermione smiled at the memory. “I think I took basically all of my bedsheets with me outside and wrapped them around us both to keep warm. My dad threw a fit, but I insisted that if he had to be cold, I did too. It couldn’t have been more than a half hour before I was crying from the chill, and mum gave in and let us both inside. The rest is history. I got pneumonia from that stunt,” she laughed to herself, “But I also got to keep Crooks inside, so I think it was worth it.”
Her parents still teased her about that stunt often, and it had become one of their favorite stories to tell people when they asked what their daughter away at school was like. When she looked up Theo’s eyes were watching her carefully. There was too much attention in it though, so she looked away from his face and at the creature in question.
He looked absolutely smug, and Hermione scoffed, “Traitor.”
Theo laughed and she felt immensely proud as his second hand came to pet the animal too. “How did you name him?” He asked curiously.
“Oh! I—” She froze when she tried to think about it. “I . . .” Hermione tried again to say how she’d stumbled upon her pet’s perfect name but all that came up was, “I don’t know, actually.” She frowned. “How strange. I can’t remember. I was young and he was there and, and it just seemed so obvious. His name was Crookshanks. I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it before. It’s always just felt so fitting.”
“Indeed.” Draco said beside her. When she turned to him, his eyes were on the cat.
“Sorry, I wish I knew.” She told them both. But Theo didn’t seem to hear. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice her as he played with her cat.
“Hi, mate.” He said softly, and Hermione was shocked when Crookshanks actually began to climb onto him. Theo helped him up and cradled him close to his chest, it was perhaps the sweetest she’d ever seen her cat behave around someone other than her. “How are you?” he asked, and she was basically gob smacked when Crooks purred in response against the boy’s throat.
Theo’s eyes drifted shut as though he was savoring the moment and something in her wanted to join them in their hug as well. She didn’t though, that probably would have seemed weird, and she had no interest in making either uncomfortable, so she just watched. At one point she thought she’d heard him murmur something along the lines of ‘I’ve missed you,’ but just as he said it Draco had grabbed onto her hand and pulled her towards him.
“Hi.” He said abruptly.
“Hi,” She smiled softly at the blond staring at her. “Are you okay?”
“Thank you.” Was his answer. Hermione stepped closer so they could hear without disturbing Theo.
“Whatever for?”
“You’re just . . .” Draco shook his head, and when he looked back at her, his eyes were sparkling. “Incredible.” He finished.
Hermione was overcome with a wave of affection for Draco and his sweetness. He was just so kind and refreshing. She found herself wanting to hug him, so she did. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders Hermione laughed to herself at their size difference. When Draco frowned questioningly, she shrugged.
“You’re massive. Even when you’re sitting, I’m still a great deal shorter than you. You have to admit, it’s comical.”
“It’s perfect.” He corrected, and when he tightened his hold on her to pull her against his chest, Hermione found herself agreeing. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and listened to his heartbeat against her ear. She’d never thought of heartbeats as sounding beautiful, but Draco’s was. The steady rhythm of it in his chest was —for lack of a better word— magical, and combined with the smell of him enveloping her then, she felt thoroughly enchanted by Draco Malfoy.
At least, until he let her go after several minutes had passed.
“Are you . . . wearing my jumper?” He asked carefully. Draco used her hands and spun her outwards. She would have fallen over herself if not for his own constant coordination holding her up. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment once again, as she watched Draco scrutinize her. She’d been caught off guard this morning and had completely forgotten about whatever impulsive and irrational thing had told her to accept when she’d gotten cold last night and Theo had told her to use the green wool sweater sitting on the edge of Draco’s bed.
“I . . .” have apparently become incredibly forward and presumptuous since meeting you and I can’t believe I took this without asking you. “I’m sorry.”
“You took my jumper.” He said quietly, Hermione bit her lip, waiting for him to scold her, but instead he just frowned. “I thought . . . but you . . . and that’s why,”
“I’m sorry,” she said again but Draco just kept frowning.
“When did you take my jumper?”
“Well, I—”
“I told her she could.” Theo cut in behind her. Hermione shot him a look of gratitude over her shoulder. “Before you got back last night. She was cold, and I figured you wouldn’t mind her borrowing it.”
“Oh,” Draco seemed to process what had been said because he turned to Theo, “No, of course not. I just . . . I didn’t notice.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you first, but you weren’t here and we didn’t know when you’d get back and I—”
“Hermione,” He stopped her, grabbing her hand again carefully and pulling her back towards him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
Hermione’s spare hand toyed with the hem of the sweater; her eyes unable to meet his. “Are you sure?”
“Entirely.” He said. Draco squeezed her hand between his to get her attention, and when Hermione looked up he shrugged. “It looks far better on you anyway.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched slightly, “Shut it.”
“It’s the truth.” He insisted, though Harry’s voice carried over to them loudly.
“No really, Malfoy. Shut it. It’s way too early in the morning to have to listen to you two.”
“Harry,” Hermione protested. She was, however, ignored though, as a certain brunette walked back across the room, and took a seat next to her best friend on his bed.
“Oh, he’s just grumpy because he hasn’t got a morning kiss yet.” Theo said. Hermione watched as Harry’s jaw dropped in shock at the boy’s words, and then promptly slammed shut when Theo held her cat up to him. Harry’s face was beet red. Hermione had to hide her laughter behind a fist when he glared at her, and Draco responded by pinching her in the stomach. When she turned around, he was smirking, and she scowled.
“What was that for?” she whispered so the others couldn’t hear.
“You’re going to scare them away.” He shook his head.
Hermione pinched him in retribution, “No I’m not.”
But Draco only pointed across the room where Theo was beaming down at Crookshanks, trying to get Harry to pet him. Harry himself wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the cat though, and instead he watched Theo with a look of fondness Hermione had never seen on her best friend before.
“Just try it.” Theo insisted.
“He doesn’t like me.”
“That can’t be true, he likes everyone, even Draco.” He shot Draco a small smile that she saw him return.
“How can you possibly know that?” Harry scoffed, though there was nothing real behind it. “Malfoy hasn’t even touched him before.”
Theo’s mouth opened, trying to answer before closing again. Hermione couldn’t see his face when he met Harry’s eyes, but whatever was written on it made her friend’s brows jump. “I just do.” Theo shook his head and looked down again to pick up Crooks. “He’s precious.”
This time it was Hermione’s jaw that dropped, and she elbowed Draco in the stomach as Harry, not even pretending to look at the cat smiled to himself, his eyes trained on an unknowing Theo and said, “He is.”
---- ---- ---- ----
Hermione was looking at Draco like a kneazle who'd caught a pigmy puff. It was a rather menacing image, but fitting as they watched her brother be entirely oblivious to Harry Potter’s affection. The boy was practically fawning over Theo yet his brother was missing it entirely. Draco had very nearly lost his shite at the look of horror on Potter’s face when Theo had mentioned kissing earlier. The only thing that had kept him from reacting himself, was how obvious Hermione’s own reactions were and his desperate trying to keep her quiet.
When her shoulders began shaking as she pulled her lips into her mouth, trying to keep from laughing, Draco found himself pulling her into his lap to distract her.
“Hey, hey hey, hey” she squealed as he did, but when she looked back at him she was laughing. He brought her closer and ducked to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Draco,” Hermione giggled and it was music to his ears, he never wanted her to stop.
“Hermione,” he grinned. His voice sounded different to him, but Draco didn’t care enough to worry. Instead, he breathed her in as much as possible. The scent of her in his jumper had mixed with his own and something inside Draco was far too pleased at the combination. A part of him hoped she’d forget to give it back and keep the thing.
“What was that for?” Hermione attempted to poke him again, but Draco grabbed her hand and held it tightly as well. “Draco.”
“Shut it.” He whispered playfully, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. Draco felt her shoulders tremble minutely in his arms and when he backed away, he realized goose fresh had broken out along her neck. He grinned and was gripped with the need to see if she'd do it again. This time though he brought his face impossibly closer and said, “You’re being far too loud. They’re going to hear you.”
“We can hear you.” Potter deadpanned from across the room, but Draco didn't even bother to look. He vaguely heard Hermione said something in response, however, Draco’s attention was locked on the pink blush, spreading over her face like a wave. It was both elegant and innocent. Instinctively then, he found himself tracing her pulse with his nose. He couldn’t have explained why, but he wanted to. He wanted to feel her, and the moment he did. Draco's eyes fell shut and the room quieted. Briefly he opened one eye to check, Harry, and Theo were still talking to one another, but it was if his ears had decided to no longer hear them. It was just him and his witch. He leaned forward into her again, absorbed in the strange emotions their connection awoke deep within him.
Draco didn’t question the strange things he felt when he was around Hermione. He just assumed it was all part of the process of finding your mate. It wasn’t as though there was literature to lean on when things happened. Bonding was ancient magic his mum had always said. She’d told him there would be people who didn’t approve, that wizards gifted with mates were special and the majority of wizards would feel threatened by it. But she also said that your mate was your family and they would accept you for everything you were. He’d never understood what she’d meant by that. When Emmeline disappeared it had been . . .awful. Clearly he knew the subject was sore for his father.
But his mum had never talked about it since. When his magic would malfunction she would spend hours apologizing and trying to soothe whatever anxieties she thought were provoking the disequilibrium. But when he was fine she would smile sadly and say it didn’t matter. She knew he would never be able to find love with another person, but Draco wondered whether she knew about everything else. Would she have told him that he’d feel this way if she’d thought he’d find Emmeline again one day? Had she expected him to feel as though there was someone else, something else inside of him that shouted for him to get closer whenever he was around her? Or was he losing his mind? Was he just feeling his own impulses? Was he—
“Draco?” His eyes shot open as something brushed against his nose— Hermione brushed against his nose. Draco couldn’t breathe as their gazes met. She was close. Too close. Her face was barely touching his but his heart was racing like it might explode. “Draco are you okay?” she repeated and he fought desperately to swallow down the lump in his throat. The lump that was begging him to do something untoward, begging him to bring her closer.
“I—” He started, but a thundering knock sounded on the door. Hermione’s head whipped around and she launched herself off of him in a panic. For the first time in too many seconds Draco felt his lungs begin to inhale again at the change in proximity, though at the same moment, his heart ached from the loss.
“Malfoy. Get up.” Karkaroff ‘s voice demanded loudly over his thoughts. “Outside in ten minutes. We meet the other champions in an hour.”
Shit. He ran a palm over his face, trying to brush off his mood. In all that had happened between when he’d arrived back at the dorm and then, Draco had completely forgotten about the bloody tournament.
“Draco,” Theo called his name. His brother was still clinging to the orange half-kneazle he’d rediscovered not long ago. There were so many thoughts Draco had on that unexpected development, but it was unmistakably the Nott kneazle. The hideously squished face was a dead giveaway no matter how unlikely it seemed. Draco wanted to be wary of the creature that had abandoned his friend the same night Emmeline had disapeared but also grateful to it for managing to find their witch, even when no one else could. Nonetheless, Theo's arms looked soft as he held the creature and the image was hard to reconcile with the stern expression marring his face.
“Hm?” Draco grunted. He could feel Hermione’s eyes on him but resisted the urge to meet them. If he did, he was likely to get distracted, and being late to Karkaroff would mean hell to pay.
“Be careful.” He said in French and Draco raised a brow.
“Why? Why are you being weird? It's just a meeting."
“I'm not being weird, but watch you're back, okay? There's no way Victor is going to just accept you."
Draco rolled his eyes. He could beat the competition in his sleep. He just didn’t know why Theo was reminding him to.
"I can handle Krum."
“What are you two saying?” Potter asked, but Theo didn't answer.
"In a duel. But what if he tries something outside? You're a Malfoy. You have more to think of than just the game."
"I'm aware." he gritted.
"Don't seem weak. They can't think your easy to remove."
Draco just leveled him a look.
"And not too cocky. You don't want them vying to kill you at the first chance."
"This is supposed to be a friendly sport." Draco protested, no one was going to be murdering, at least not yet.
"Do you think that matters to them?"
"Can't I be optimistic?" He shrugged.
"I wasn't aware you knew the meaning of the word. Don't give them chances Draco."
“Fine.” He stood and leveled his friend with a look. “They’re doing a press conference afterwards. Do you have any suggestions on that too? Or opinions on what I should wear?" He mocked.
“Something blue to go with your eyes.” The very real suggestion came not from Theo, but from Hermione.
Draco frowned. Nothing they'd said was of any real importance, Draco didn't know why Theo had wanted to hide it, but he hadn't known she was listening. “You speak French?"
“I knew it was French.” Potter quipped as Hermione blushed.
“Er, maybe. But we’re not getting into that right now. You don’t have time. Do you have dark blue robes?” she asked.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Wear those then.”
“I . . .” Draco looked to his brother for help, but Theo looked as confused as Draco did. “Right.” He told her. He walked to his wardrobe and selected two of his many professional robes. Draco supposed one of the few perks of being a Malfoy may have been the fact that all of his robes were expensive enough to qualify as formal. Where others were forced to dress themselves on what was finest, Draco owned nothing less and really could select based on color alone. He held the two sets up and Hermione pointed to the darker one on the left.
“It’s more intimidating,” she shrugged. “That’s why you’re trying to go for, right?”
“Right.” He nodded; suddenly even more grateful she was there. Draco took the robes with him into the washroom and promptly changed. It took him just a moment to prepare his outfit, and only a few more to correct his hair. When he walked out again, Hermione, Theo, and Potter were all sitting on one bed, and they all immediately looked at him. Draco’s eyes, however, watched only his witch for her reaction. He was not disappointed.
Once more a trail of pink made its way across her cheeks as she examined his outfit. He felt immensely satisfied when her gaze finally met his and she smiled sheepishly.
“Good?” He asked, oddly interested in her answer.
“Good.” She nodded, and then he left.