Isolation

Chapter 19: Greys

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Hermione was stirred awake by the heavy breaths tingling the sensitive skin between her shoulder-blades, and she blinked away the shadows of what had felt like a pleasant dream.

She stared into space as her slumber-slow thoughts gathered together, and her gaze widened when she realised what the breaths against her skin meant. She carefully twisted her body around, and her eyes to fell to the sleeping Slytherin next to her, following the line of his lazy hand, tossed across her waist.

He had stayed. He had stayed with her in bed until morning.

She smiled in spite of herself, and carefully grazed the tips of her fingers over his knuckles, catching sight of her bedside clock and noting that they had almost slept in until eleven this Boxing Day morning. She couldn't even remember the last time she had managed a lie-in with her previous bouts of insomnia taking their toll, and the fact that he was here gave her a forgotten feeling of peace.

She settled back down in the toasty sheets and admired his relaxed features; so beautiful when he was lost to the dreams and oblivious to reality. It might have been selfish and a bit irrational, but she almost allowed the darkness of the War to slip to the back of her mind as she cherished this surreal moment.

He shifted, gripping her hip a little tighter, and Hermione tried to steady her breathing. She didn't want him to wake up; not just yet. Merlin knew if he would ever treat her to his presence in the morning again, and she wanted to remember how it felt to feel like this...like they were real...

And content...

She knew it was only a temporary thing; the Christmas season had a nasty habit of deluding people and giving birth to dangerous levels of optimism, but for the moment she felt warm and the closest to...happy in months. And all because her should-be enemy was at her side. Her smile stretched as she recalled their night outside.

Forgive me...

The specifics weren't necessary, nor were the reasons he had asked her for forgiveness, but Godric it had been a shock. An amazing shock. That had been her Christmas present; a small sacrifice of his pride and ego for the sake of her clemency.

He really had changed in the last three months.

It was becoming more obvious now, the shrinking lies and prejudices that had been scratched into skull, and he was starting to think for himself and make his own judgements. All she could do was give him the facts and hope that he would eventually see sense, and acknowledge that blood purity was an irrelevant circumstance, like hair colour or the shades of skin. It was a painfully slow process and it was barely the beginning, but Dumbledore had clearly thought Draco's soul was worth saving, and now she understood why.

And she liked him...Godric help her, she really did.

"Do you often watch people sleep, Granger?" his gruff voice made her gasp, and his eyes slowly peeled open to fix her with an agitated look.

"I hate when you do that," she mumbled with an embarrassed blush, frowning as he dragged his arm off her.

"Diddums," he smirked, propping his head up with his hand and leaning over her. "Fuck, it's cold in here."