Need [ dramione ]

Chapter 12

11 November 1998 - 7 Days after the Full Moon

For one week, Draco allows Hermione to keep her distance, allows her to come to terms with what is going on and what is happening between them, to her, around her... She clearly has no grasp on any of it, and he can imagine that it must be overwhelming, but... at some point, they have to talk about it.

And today is the day.

The previous month, he had attempted to have a conversation on the New Moon, and that had resulted in.... him getting absolutely nowhere. And then, he had been forced to wait until a week before the Full Moon. She had nearly killed him.

This month, he has a new approach. While it's still seven days from the Full Moon, this time around, she's losing strength rather than gaining it. He's been watching her all week, watching as she slows down in her steps, as her body sags a little, no longer so tense, and he knows from his research that this is perhaps as human as she will ever feel.

When he sees her in the library, he makes his move.

Sitting down across from her, he quickly mutters a silencing charm, so that no eavesdroppers can listen in. He wants to speak freely, perhaps for the first time ever. No more dodging around what is going on between them, no more careful words and glances around. No more of these side-long glances they've been having all week.

He has to talk to her, and is has to be today, if for no other reason than stopping the bloody dreams.

All week, all week they've been...

He blames it on his blood, the single drop of blood, from his tongue to her mouth. He had been able to taste the copper afterwards, but there had been no more blood after that first drop. She had been worried, that night, that he might have accidentally triggered a shift in himself from the single cut, but... he hadn't felt any more hunger, his body hadn't been wracked with fever or chills. There had been no signs that he had been affected by the cut.

But the dreams...

Perhaps it's the connection between them. It would make sense. A drop of blood to seal it, or something? He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything about werewolves and their connections and...

All he knows is that the dreams are driving him insane.

He can taste her now, taste the sweat on her skin, and he can feel her. With his eyes closed, Draco thinks he could know her just by touch, by scent, by taste, all thanks to those stupid dreams. They've been ramped up to a ten in intensity, in how real they feel, in-

And that kiss. He can still taste that kiss. He wants it again. He wants to kiss her again.

Clearly, madness has overtaken him.

She doesn't even look up from her book when he sits down and casts the spell, but before his mouth is even open, she's speaking.

"How are you feeling?" she asks idly, as though speaking about the weather. She might not say it explicitly, but he knows what she really wants to know. Does he think she bit him hard enough, or cut him enough, that he's turning.

"No sign of fever or chills. I had my dinner disgustingly well cooked. It was atrocious, by the way, but better than the bloody meat I had attempted to eat the day before. No signs of any sort of transformation or affliction."

Almost immediately, he can feel a shift, like a cold breeze brushes over him, and he watches as her eyes stop on the page, then flick up to him. For a brief second, they stare at one another, and then her eyes are back on the page of the book, although he doesn't think they are moving, reading.