Isolation

Chapter 39: Drown

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Draco had exactly ten seconds to frown at the empty space beside him before there was a roar of footfalls hammering down the corridor, towards his room, and then the door was flung open so hard the handle cracked the wall. In stormed Remus and Tonks, his cousin looking flustered as she shot him a brief glance before she eyed the other side of the bed, dented with Hermione's absence, and she let go of a harsh, frustrated breath.

"Shit, she's gone too."

"I need to go and contact Arthur and the others," said Remus. "See if they've heard from them."

"Alright," she nodded, waiting until her husband had left the room before she turned back to Draco, her expression hard. "You, downstairs, five minutes."

And with that, she left, slamming the door behind her before he could even muster a comeback. Clenching his eyes tight shut and rubbing his face with his clammy palms, he let his sullen eyes linger on Hermione's impression, shaped into the mattress and pillow, and he swallowed down the clot of angst in his throat, almost choked on it.

"Déjà vu," he mumbled to himself, leaving the warmth of the bed, the subtle scent of Granger clinging to the blanket.

It was cold today, and he absently listened to the staccato beat of raindrops hitting the window as he pulled on some trousers and a jumper, his movements sluggish and inattentive. Beyond the bedroom door, he could hear more footsteps, raised voices, chairs scraping, and all the peace that had seemed so surreal just yesterday was ripped apart, replaced my a racket. Combing a hand through his hair, he headed downstairs, made his way to the kitchen, and barely lifted his head to acknowledge Blaise and Theo, sat at the table, and Tonks leaning against the countertop, her arms folded, and her face creased up with irritation.

"Why the fuck have I been woken up at eight o'clock in the sodding morning?" demanded Theo. "I haven't got a girlfriend who's gone AWOL, and I'm hardly friends with-

"Shut it," said Tonks, levelling her glare at Blaise. "Well?"

As Draco sank into a free chair, he glanced at Blaise, wondering if the troubled shadow in his friend's eyes was mirrored in his own. He looked like he'd been up all night, haunted by stress and anxiety, grimacing for hours and trying to claw himself out of a bad dream.

"Well what?" muttered Blaise. "I've told you. I don't know where she's gone, and I don't know where Thomas is, or Granger, or Weasley, or bloody Potter-

"Luna must've told you something, or hinted-

"Tonks, I swear on my questionable soul, I don't know! My best bet would be Hogwarts, but I don't have a fucking clue. She never said anything to me."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead with shaky fingers as she flicked her eyes over to Draco. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, you didn't exactly look shocked this morning when I walked in the room, and Hermione wasn't there."

He shared a quick look with Blaise and shrugged. "It's hardly the first time Granger has made an abrupt exit."

"Where is she, Draco?" she asked, her tone sharp. "Where have they gone?"

"I don't know." He knew it wasn't a convincing lie. He didn't particularly try to make it convincing.