Left Behind 2: Illusions (A Dramione Romance)

Feathers

Happy Monday everyone. Hope you had a lovely weekend.

_

Hermione covered her mouth seconds after calling out for Draco.

Someone had to have heard her.

No, she told herself, not necessarily. Draco always speaks candidly here-which means there must be some kind of a sound barrier.

That doesn't mean that carries over to you screaming your head off, she chastised herself.

For a moment she stood staring at the door waiting for someone to come barging in and demand to know what all the ruckus was about.

She felt like she could hear her own hair growing she was listening so intently.

A minute passed, and then two...and then her situation began to close in around her.

He's not dead.

He can't be dead.

She wiped at the dampness on her cheeks.

He is not allowed to be dead.

As Hermione paced the room she convinced herself of it over and over.

Her legs feet got tired from the pacing and she sat down holding her knees to her chest.

A flicker of something...and then nothing.

Was it Draco through the bind? Or was it just wishful thinking.

As soon as it had come it had gone away, like something surfacing for the barest of moment before dipping back into a vast ocean of nothing.

"Draco..." she closed her eyes and leaned her head against her knees.

The clock chimed.

How long had it been?

It felt like she was always waiting.

Waiting for Draco.

Waiting to be tortured.

Waiting to be rescued.

An image of Ron popped into her head. 

"I don't want think of him now," she muttered to herself.

What would he think of you knowing you've developed feelings for a Malfoy?

I don't have feelings for him, Hermione shot back almost as a gut reflex.

"Oh really," she answered herself out loud. "That's why you were shouting at the ceiling for him to come back to you." Her voice was venomous and judgmental even to her own ears.

Hermione let out a growl of frustration and lashed out with the wand which was still clutched tightly in her hand. 

The pillow by her bed exploded in massive a puff of white sending feathers dancing through the air like little snowflakes in a blizzard.

"Dammit," she felt her eyes stinging again and hated herself for it.

She loved Ron.

But she had never felt this way about Ron.

It was like her whole world revolved around whether or not Draco made it home alive.

That's because you have feelings for him.

"No I don't" she said blowing off a feather that had landed on the tip of her nose as if almost in spite of her and her words.

"I do not have feelings for Draco Malfoy," she reiterated.