Don’t tell me it’s over
When they were first paired together for their quarterly project, they begrudgingly accepted, too tired from the war and its fallout to fight what now seemed so pointless, so small in the face of everything else they each managed. Meeting in the Hogwarts Library was a given since they both already treated the books as their own haven away from all the other parts of the castle that haunted them.
But this was the first time that Malfoy sat at Hermione’s table, the same seat she’d considered her own since her first year. The spot was perfect, situated near the back in a corner that was mostly hidden by tall shelves, but sat along a window overlooking the Black Lake and the forest beyond. He’d always preferred somewhere near the center of the room in the past, one where he could catch the attention of anyone he wished, and spot those less fortunate than him who walked through the doors. He didn’t sit there anymore.
Instead, he sought her out at her place of peace, a pile of books already in hand and a resigned expression on his face as he waited for her invitation to sit. Her only response had been to clear one side of the table before returning to her page to resume where she’d left off.
That was their routine.
Day after day, they met to take notes and share thoughts.
Hermione found in Malfoy a sharp mind and a way of thinking different, but not undesired, from her own. He filled in the gaps of her knowledge and challenged her to consider points from opposing views.
Draco found in Granger what he’d always known deep down to be true: a brilliant outlook on a subject he’d assumed complete superiority, despite all her other achievements. He wanted to learn more about the ways she viewed the rest of their subjects, perhaps even ones outside of academia.
It was only natural that they moved from their project to other courses. Why not finish homework from their shared classes together? A couple of hours a day turned into a handful, the two of them often closing out the library alone.
Then came the day of their presentation. Neither of them had talked about what would happen once they weren’t required to meet anymore. It was as if planning ahead might shatter the fragile peace they’d found.
The next day, Malfoy walked up to their table at the same time as usual, only to find it empty. He felt a hot slip of a knife between his ribs into an organ he’d thought long dead.
He could sit and wait, but doing so reeked of a desperation he couldn’t bear to face just yet.
He could find another table, some hidden spot he’d used before they were forced to work together, before he’d started looking forward to seeing and hearing her each day.
Better yet, he could just say ‘sod it all’ and go back to his room. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t check out books and use his own desk.
His mind made up, he turned and ran straight into her smaller body, knocking the stack of books she’d carried out of her hands and onto the ground.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention to—”
“Granger.”
Her mouth clicked shut at his interruption, and she slowly looked up at him from where she now crouched on the ground.
“What are you doing?”
She cocked her head in puzzlement. “I’m…getting books for our other assignments?”
She said it as a question, as if it should have been obvious to him why she was here.
“You still want to study with me?” He hated the hesitance in his own voice, the disbelief that reeked of want.
“Isn’t that why you’re here? We still have until the end of the school year—we still have our N.E.W.T.s!”
The relief that coursed through him was so strong, he couldn’t help but sag against the table behind him, his bag dropping onto the chair beneath.
Gathering the rest of the books back into her arms and standing to place them carefully next to him, she turned to poke him playfully in the ribs, right where he’d sworn he’d just been stabbed earlier.
“Don’t tell me you thought it was over between us.”
She’d touched him before, of course, an innocent passing of quills and parchment, a playful nudge to the shoulder that became more frequent as the weeks passed them by.
This time, his hand closed over her wrist and held her there.
“I hoped it wasn’t, but feared it might be.”
Her skin was soft beneath his grip, and she stood close enough he could feel her heat through the thin layers between them. Silver eyes met golden-flecked brown. She leaned in close, pressing slightly up on her toes to match his height, and wrapped her free arm in a hug around his neck, allowing the full length of her body to embrace his own.
“We’re in this together now, Draco. You’re stuck with me for a while yet.”
Huffing a relieved laugh, he slid his arms around her waist, returning her hug and accepting everything she had to offer today and every day beyond the four corners of their little table.