NOVEL NEXT Chapter 25: Chapter 25
With a defeated groan, he rested his ear against the wall and basked in the wet noises and her throaty sounds. One particularly pleasant mew roused a shiver to sprint up his spine, and it was the most relaxed he'd felt since the night at Astronomy Tower.
The water and the witch were lulling him back to sleep, and even while he knew the sounds were pleasing to his ears and psyche, he'd never hated himself so much.
.
.
When Draco woke again, he judged the time by the angle of the cloud-embraced sun. He reckoned it was early afternoon so he shrugged on the usual black trousers and a black jumper, realising his selection of clothes would require washing soon. Great. Another favour from her.
That Gryffindor tie around his throat was becoming far more tempting with every hour-long minute that slipped by. And he didn't mean for fashion purposes. As if he would wear red and bloody gold.
He wandered into the common area to find a casserole waiting in the usual spot by the stove, and another sliver of his pride fizzled away as he opened the drawer to retrieve a fork. He must have opened the wrong drawer because he found himself looking at three little vials of clear liquid and some clear cylindrical tubes with a needle at the end.
What the hell?
He eyed the foreign objects warily for a few moments before coming to the conclusion that they must be some strange Muggle things.
He glanced at the clock then, and groaned when he realised he'd misjudged the time. Just as the thought had carved itself into his brain, the main door opened and Granger stumbled into the room, apparently having a little trouble with her bag.
She looks different...
And she really did. He had no idea what it was but something had definitely changed.
She was the only person he had seen for ten days and he could admit that he had learned her features fairly well, but something was definitely different. She hadn't noticed his presence yet so he trailed his quicksilver eyes across her face to find the change.
Same petal-pink lips.
Same syrupy gold eyes.
Same sun-stained skin.
Same spatter of barely-there freckles across her bridge of her nose.
Certainly the same catastrophic owl-nest she called hair.
She was still struggling with her bag as she closed the door behind her, and after a few more seconds he credited her 'change' to not seeing her for two days. Isolating himself to his bedroom had probably not helped his brain, and it was rather likely that it was playing tricks on him. Wouldn't be the first time.
She snapped her head up, and he found himself stuck in one of those infuriating staring contests he'd refused to participate in when he was a child.
Yes, definitely the same gold eyes.
It took six heartbeats before she shifted her face into a tired frown and turned away from him to shuffle into the room.
"I'm not in the mood for an argument today, Malfoy," she mumbled, collapsing on the couch gracelessly. "So if you-
"Sod off, Granger," he interrupted, noting his voice was a little rusty after his two days of silence. "I have better things to do than waste my time with you."
She had the gall to chuckle. "Oh really?" she scoffed. "And what would that be exactly? Hiding away in your room-
"Hiding from you?" Draco snorted coldly, forgetting his food for the moment. "Don't make me laugh, Granger. I would rather stay in my room than risk seeing your face-
"And what exactly do you do in your room, Malfoy?" she questioned, masking her curiosity with a mocking tone. "I've noticed a couple of my books are missing."
Shit...
He hadn't wanted her to realise that he'd been taking the books. Now she had more things to hold over his head, and his pride would take even more of battering.
"You have a problem with me reading, Granger?" he challenged in a nonchalant tone, deciding that denial was really pointless when he was the only possible culprit.
Hermione paused to consider him for second, and acknowledged that in reality, she really didn't care if he wanted to read her books or not. So long as she didn't require them, it didn't really effect her. The temptation to be petty and cause another argument lingered at the back of her mind, but what exactly would it accomplish?
"No, it's fine," she muttered finally, missing the flicker of shock that splashed across his pale features. "I just wish you would have asked."
He had no idea what to say to that. The prospect of actually asking her for something was just repulsive, and did crushing things to his gut. No, not a chance in this life or the next. If she wanted to prance around and insist on making him food and whatever else, then that was her shovel in the graveyard, but to voice a want from her was something his breeding and pride would not allow.
"You might have ginger bitch and the immortal orphan trained well," he hissed cruelly, although one might note that the familiar bite was a little lacking. "But I can assure you that I won't be asking you for anything."
She simply sighed at him. "That's fine," she offered. "I thought as much. How's my cooking?"
He hadn't expected that, and his eyebrows rose high on his forehead. "What?"
"My cooking," she repeated, perhaps a little shyly, but she hid it well. "Is it okay?"
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