Harry Potter: Among Shadows and Silence

Draco remained silent because he had no idea what else he could do. The temptation to yell at her for being so stupid was there, but it wasn't pushing through. That infuriating guilt just wouldn't budge, and an annoying little voice in his head kept telling him that he should have never taunted her. Since when did Granger become a factor for his flimsy conscience? If he had to guess, he woul venture around the time she'd started leaving him meals.

"I'm so sorry," she said again, a lonely and stubborn tear slipping past her lashes. "I promise I will never do anything like that again."

He regarded her, feeling her honesty wash over him like a sedative. He took a deep breath and ignored the urge to sigh when her scent settled back into his senses. It was a little salty with the influence of her tears, but still undeniably hers. He didn't want to shout at her...it didn't feel right when she still looked so vulnerable. He would over-analyse that decision later, but he just couldn't do it right now.

"Please say something," Hermione implored, leaning a little closer. "Anything."

He chewed the inside of his mouth and arched an eyebrow. "If you ever do something like this again," he started, annunciating each syllable crisply. "You will regret it."

The specifics weren't necessary, he could tell she knew he meant it.

"Okay," she nodded numbly.

"I won't be in here forever, Granger," he told her. "And I will remember everything you do. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, looking more relieved than he'd liked. "I really am sorry-

"I got that," Draco stopped her with roll of his eyes. "Now leave me alone."

She didn't move. "Does it hurt?" she asked, timidly gesturing to his injured palm.

"No."

"Let me clean it," she requested, extending her arm to offer her own hand. "It will just take a second-

"I can clean it myself-

"Please," she cut him off, earning a frustrated sigh from the pale wizard. "It's best if I heal it and-

"Fucking fine," he growled, thrusting his hand into hers and reasoning that it would make her leave faster. "Hurry the hell up, Granger."

Hermione anxiously licked her lips before she angled her wand, gliding it over the gash she had caused. It would take a couple of minutes, she realised, and the silence was too heavy for her. She raised her eyes to watch his face, but his harsh glare made them wander to the rather large pile of books on his bedside table.

"You've read that many already?" she questioned, her brow creasing with interest.

"I just skim them," he revealed in a reluctant grumble. "I've read them before."

"I'm not surprised," she said, her voice still uneasy and laced with nerves. "They're our textbooks-

"From our previous years," he finished for her. "Yes, I had noticed."

"Then why do you read them?"

"There's hardly a wide variety of activity options," Draco scowled at her, realising then that he was effectively holding hands with Granger on his bed. He needed to get her away. Now. "Hurry the hell up."

"Almost done," she muttered, stroking the tip of her wand over the final specks of blood. "There, is that okay?"

He quickly ripped his hand out of her dainty fingers and checked his hand before he nodded his head towards the door. "Piss off then, Granger."

Her honeyed gaze drifted over to his mountain of books again, and she parted her lips to say something. Whatever it was, her Gryffindor courage had clearly gone dry for tonight, and she clumsily left his bed and shuffled out of his room. Only when his door was securely closed did he allow himself to exhale, massaging the bridge of his nose and replaying the odd events of the last few hours in his head.

If ever there was a sure sign that this place was starting to effect his sanity, today had been it.

He looked down and ghosted his fingers across his freshly-healed skin, finding no evidence that she had ever torn open his flesh.

He was adamant he could feel her though; coursing through his bloodstream, and he blamed the invisible flames of her essence for his inability to catch sleep until dawn broke. When he roused at some point in the early afternoon the next day, he did as he always did; dressed in the usual clothes and headed into the kitchenette to see what Granger had left him to eat today.

Cottage pie. One of his favourites.

And next to the steaming pot was a peculiar stack of books, none of which he'd ever seen before.

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