XXII.
Another firewhisky was gone.
“So predictable.”
Draco looked over his broom and saw Nott kick one of the empty bottles. He mumbled obscenities to himself and glared back at the manor. Draco was suddenly propelled forward and sent careening into the grass. He rolled a few times, and his broom flew into Nott’s hand.
“You shouldn’t fly when you’re drunk.”
“You shouldn’t be such a shit friend.”
Nott rolled his eyes and sat on the broom as it hovered off the ground. Draco conjured another bottle of firewhisky and ripped the cork out with his teeth. Draco spun with anger. Fucking Granger. Fucking Parkinson. Or whatever her name was now.
“You know, most people are flattered when they find out people love them.”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have hid this from me.”
“I wasn’t talking about me, mate.”
Draco paused. Then he doubled over with a cynical laugh.
“Granger?”
“Do you know many other women who enter into an unbreakable vow to keep someone that they hate safe?”
Draco tried to get to his feet, but the blood came rushing to his head. Nott didn’t know what he was talking about. There was no way that Granger… she couldn’t. It wasn’t possible. He blinked through a wave of nausea. His hand reached out, and Nott steadied him. Granger loved Weasley. Granger had always loved Weasley. Even though he fucked other girls while they were together. Draco would never fuck other girls if he was with Granger.
“She was… she… no,” Draco shook his head in an attempt to clear it from the alcohol. “She loves Weasel. That fucking ginger cunt. Godric, I hate him so fucking much.”
“Why do you hate him?”
Nott casually floated on the broom as Draco ran his hands through his hair and paced in circles.
“She left clues for them! She wanted them to find her. But I found her. And she still loves him. But he doesn’t know what she is.”
His words kept jumbling around in his mind. But he knew he hated Weasley. A sliver of regret was starting to sink in as the alcohol settled. Maybe he should have stopped after the first bottle.
“Oh yeah? And you know what she is?”
Draco snorted.
“Of course! She’s… she’s… bloody brilliant. And brave. And just so sharp. You know? Like, really sharp. And Weasley is such a fucking git. He wouldn’t know the first thing about loving someone like Granger.”
“And you would?”
“Obviously,” he guffawed. “I mean, look at me. Er…”
He brushed at the spot of spilled firewhisky on his jumper.
“I know everything about Granger.”
“Is that right?”
He looked incredulously at Theo, who was smirking at him. He was swaying on his broom. Hey! That was his broom. How did he get that? Draco had to look away because the swaying was making him sick.
“Well, mate,” Theo said. “I think I’m going to get going. I’ll probably take Granger with me, though. She’ll probably be safer at Nott Manor.”
Draco spun toward him.
“You’re not fucking taking Granger anywhere.”
“Draco, you’re too angry at her. I can’t trust you to be alone with her.”
Draco turned to shove Theo, but he moved too quickly. Draco stumbled but remained upright.
“You’re too drunk. She’s gotta come home with me. Besides, you already said yourself that she doesn’t love you. Guess you can let me try.”
“Like hell, Nott,” he said.
He pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it toward the Manor.
“Accio, Pepper Up.”
Three vials flew into his hand, and he downed them eagerly.
“Fuck you,” Draco said as he tossed the vials at him. “And fuck your secrets. Granger stays with me.”
Draco stumbled toward the walkway as Nott’s laughter filled his head. He sent a hex behind him, but Nott easily dodged it on his broom. The soft pop of his apparition filled the quiet landscape. The sobering effects of the potion were already working. He could feel the warmth pouring over his scalp and down his neck. He apparated, rather ungracefully, into the library. The crack of his appearance jolted Granger out of her book with a squeak and a scowl.
“Why do you still love Weasley?” he demanded.
She was sitting on the same couch she was earlier with her same book. She wasn’t crying anymore, Draco was relieved to find that.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
He swayed but steadied himself with the other arm of the couch. He regretted not taking a fourth potion.
“Are you drunk?”
“Not anymore.”
He made a small face at the lie.
“I don’t love Ronald,” she said. “Not like that. I don’t know if I ever really did.”
Draco straightened at her confession, suddenly feeling much lighter. He ran a hand through his hair. He’d forgotten what he’d been so charged about. She didn’t love Weasley. She didn’t know if she ever had. What a promising turn of events. Perhaps Nott knew? Is that why he said- Draco paused.
“Then why did you make the unbreakable vow?”
“What does that have to do with Ron?”
“It has everything to do with everything!”
She slammed the book shut and stood up. She stalked toward him and pushed his chest. He hid his grimace. She had so much strength in those tiny little fingers of hers.
“You’re infuriating!” she growled.
He liked the way her voice got when she was angry. He pushed his fingers into her chest.
“You’re the infuriating one! You offered to die to protect me!”
“Yes! Yes, I did, Draco,” she said and pushed him back. “And I’d do it again. Do you know why? Because it’s the right thing to do!”
He pushed her back.
“You don’t get to make those choices! You don’t get to sacrifice yourself to protect me!”
She pushed him back.
“Well, it would be a lot bloody easier to keep you alive if you would keep your nose out of my business!”
He pushed her back.
“I’ll put my nose anywhere I damn well please!”
Hermione let out a frustrated growl, turned away from him, and walked toward the door. He jogged after her and spun her around. He pinned her back against the bookshelf. They both were breathing heavily as he put his nose against hers.
“And right now, I want my nose right here.”
Her eyes were brimming with anger, and she pursed her lips closed.
“Tell me why you took the vow.”
Defiance danced on her features. She held her chin steady as she glared at Draco. She wasn’t budging. But as the sobering potion overtook the effects of the alcohol, other emotions began to surface. And at the root of all of them was fear.
Nineteen months ago, Hermione Granger disappeared from the wizarding world, and his universe capsized. He’d been obsessing over her disappearance, fearing the worst. But he’d found her. She was alive. And after hearing tonight that she was dying because of the effects of her magic and putting her own life at risk for the sake of his made him sick. He couldn’t swallow any variation of that story. A life without Granger would be… well, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to even envision it. He had to keep her alive. He had to keep her safe. The war, his aunt, the Ministry, all of these things were trying to take her from him.
His hands shifted off her arms and cupped her cheeks in his palms. He brushed her cheeks gently with his thumbs.
“I can’t lose you, Granger,” he whispered. “Not again.”
Her expression softened, and he rested his forehead against hers. Their breathing slowed. He cracked open his eyes to see hers were closed. Her scent enveloped them. She smelled like his body wash and shampoo. He took another deep inhale and grounded himself. He was so furious at her. Her reckless heroism was so typical of her bloody house patron. He cursed Godric Gryffindor. Gallant twat, that’s what he was.
“I’m tired, Draco,” she finally sighed.
He apparated them into his bedroom. The landing was less than graceful, though, because of the alcohol, and Granger ended up falling over the chair.
She cursed him and his drunkenness. He took out his wand and placed her back in his quidditch jersey to sleep in. He pointed his wand at himself and wore a pair of sweatpants. He wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her to the bed.
She squeaked as he toppled them back onto the mattress and locked her in a possessive vice grip against his bare chest. She eventually stopped struggling, and he nuzzled his face into her neck. He was so grateful her braid would prevent him from choking on her hair all night. She didn’t even curse at him when his hand slid under the jersey to rest on her stomach.
He yawned as the effects of alcohol still fizzled around in his brain.
“I’m so glad you don’t love Weasley.”
She snorted in response. Maybe Nott was right. Maybe there was a universe where Granger could feel that way about him.
***
Granger’s body had become completely rigid against his. She was whimpering and mumbling something incoherent against his chest. He sobered instantly in his sleeping state. Another nightmare. He hadn’t thought to give her any dreamless droughts.
“Granger,” he whispered against her ear. “You’re okay. It’s just a dream.”
She shook against him. She was muttering counter curses.
“Legilimens,” he said and entered her mind.
Her dream was dark and unfocused. She was in the Department of Mysteries. A spark hit the wall just beside his ear. A curse. Dolohov ran forward, shouting curses at her. He looked to see Granger dodging and weaving through rows of orbs. He chased after her and grabbed her wrist.
“Come on, Granger,” he said. “Time to go.”
She fought against him, but both of them stopped dead in their tracks at the Death Eater that appeared in their way. Lucius Malfoy loomed before them. Draco jolted backward, shocked by his father’s appearance.
“Mudblooded bitch,” he cursed and drew his wand at her.
Draco shielded her and drew her against his chest. He focused on removing the memory for her. He pictured them in one of her safe places. Cambridge. There was a huge library there. He pictured the library.
“Granger, look,” he urged her.
Her eyes were pinched shut as she clutched his torso. He grabbed her cheeks and pulled them up toward his eyes.
“Look at me, Granger.”
She slowly began to peel her eyes open.
“There we go,” he said, rubbing circles on her cheeks again. “Come show me around. I bet you love this muggle school.”
“My parents met here,” she said softly.
“Good. Come tell me all about it.”
He took her hand in his and led her inside.