Coping Mechanisms

17. Hermione

Draco's hand hovered at her back the entire walk to her room. His fingers never quite touched her, but his arm never dropped. Hermione could focus on nothing but it's warm presence, and it's simultaneous absence. The phantom touch of his palm steadied her, but she found herself wanting actual contact. She was still so cold, and Draco's body was incredibly warm. Heat radiated from him in waves, and she found them utterly intoxicating.

Hermione shivered, and Draco instinctually stepped closer, the whisper of his fingers skimming against her hip. She risked a glance beside her, but Draco's focus was still straight ahead as he led them through the halls. His jaw was clenched, his eyes blank; the emotion long gone from his features. Hermione was jealous of his ability to bounce back so easily, or at least of his capacity to hide everything so well. Draco looked as he always did, the grace and confidence back in his step, while she herself still struggled to keep her knees from buckling, and her composure from slipping. Her muscles felt like taut elastic, her magic a mere glimpse of it's usual, over encompassing magnitude. Hermione was exhausted, and she paid no mind to the concerned glances of the students wandering the halls.

Draco seemed similarly impervious to the obvious stares, his only concern keeping his arm steady behind her. Hermione was sure she'd hear gossip about it later, but she presently didn't give a damn. She continued to allow Draco to escort her back to the third floor, the faces around her an insignificant blur.

The third-floor corridor was deserted, as usual, it's only occupant the towering gargoyle. She felt it's blind eyes on her back as they passed, it's presence oddly comforting. The stone beast made her feel safe, almost as much as the boy beside her. Hermione couldn't quite place when she'd started finding solace in the Slytherin's company, nor could she explain it. But something had shifted between them, and she wasn't sure if she could stop it. The absence of his hand when they finally reached her door was nearly agonizing, and she forced a stabilizing breath as she extended her arm.

Her hand paused over the doorknob.

"You knew where my room was?" Hermione asked, realizing she'd never told him outright, nor had she been leading.

Draco merely shrugged.

"Theo told me where it was, and I came looking for you earlier," he said, like the answer should have been obvious.

"And you knew I wasn't in here?"

"It was pretty easy to guess. There's not many places to hide in there, Granger."

Hermione inhaled sharply, her arm dropping.

"You got in?"

"Merlin's sake, Granger. We learned alohamora as first years."

"But, that shouldn't have worked," Hermione whispered, unable to hide the confusion in her tone.

Draco raised an eyebrow, a silent request to explain.

"The dorms on this floor are bewitched. They're only made to open for their sole occupants. Or the Headmistress, of course. Or..." she paused.

"Or?"

Hermione met Draco's questioning eyes.

"Or, in case of emergency, anyone the gargoyle deems worthy to enter."

"The gargoyle?" he repeated.

"McGonagall took extra safety precautions this year to protect the students. The griffin is the hall's guardian after all." Hermione chewed thoughtlessly on her lip. "I guess it deemed you worthy enough to go in, if it believed I was in danger."

Draco's jaw noticeably tightened.

Hermione suppressed a nervous laugh, and reached her hand back out, the magic in the doorknob reaching up to meet her fingers. The lock gave a small click.