“Hermione, I’m tired.”
She looked up at him and saw it in his eyes.
The war had eaten him; there was so little of him left. The ghosts in his eyes, the war, it was almost all there was.
The boy who got boxes of sweets and had a spot bought for him on a quidditch team, who cried and whined over a scratched arm, was gone. Everything soft and indolent and pampered about him was carved away by the war.
“You are mine!” Draco bared his teeth with rage. “I turned, and I saw you get cursed as you disappeared, and I didn’t even know if you were still alive. You said you wouldn’t leave the safe houses. You told me you’d be safe. You were in the middle of a massacre.”
// dramione nsfw
“I need your help.”
She ignores it the first time, only because Draco Malfoy has been an absolute arse and she doesn’t fancy lending a hand to another stuck up Auror who thinks archivists are beneath them. “Granger, I said I need your help.”
/ death
5 drinks Hermione and Draco share together
1. Beer
"Agh," Draco says for the third time in a row as he swirls the beer on its glass.
"Would you stop it already?" Hermione asks, fed up.
"It's just... beer? Couldn't we have ordered something less... mugglely?"
Draco, who worried about her more than anyone else did. Who had devoted time he couldn’t possibly have trying to train her and keep her alive. Because he just wanted her to be alive.