Chapter 52 || After

29.8K 778 348
                                    


Hermione's POV-

The small cafe that was situated a few streets away from my old house was one that was a safe-haven, the small and cozy shop creating a sense of safety in the air. Not many witches or wizards came across the store, but I made sure to find myself in there everyday.

Draco, who was sitting across from me, was silently sipping on a cappuccino, a drink that he only just came to like. He had deep bags that lined his eyes, caused by the nightmares that wouldn't stop. I almost felt bad for him, if it wasn't for myself experiencing the same events, only the nightmares that crossed my mind throughout the night would make me wake up screaming and sobbing.

Nobody's lives were the same anymore, each person experiencing their own trauma and grief, and each person dealt with it differently.

Harry would normally sit in his room and not come out for hours, himself taking the aftermath the hardest. Ron occupied himself with gardening, it being something that had nothing to do with Fred, whereas Ginny took out her anger and sadness in Quidditch.

Draco, though not taking it the hardest yet still hard enough, reacted the worse. Despite always acting fine in front of me or other people, I would always catch him when he thought he was alone, sobbing or punching walls, and even once destroying the flat that the both of us were residing in without being able to stop.

But the worst was two weeks after the war was over, he locked himself in the bathroom for hours, and I could hear his desperate cries. But when I finally got into the room, I would've fainted if it weren't for the fact that I was basically immune to the sight of blood. But it didn't stop me from freaking out for days until I knew that he would be alright.

He tried to cut out his dark mark.

There was blood splattered over the white sink, and his clothes were stained red. But his arm was something that I wish I would never have to experience again, the inked section being sliced too many times to count, and a deep gash circling around the mark itself.

Within the two months since that incident though, he had been slowly improving, and soon it was down to a stage where his knuckles would be bloody and broken only once a week, maybe even less. But even though he had improved majorly, he wasn't better. None of us were, and the smallest of things could set us off at any second.

But no matter how much we tried to hide it, we could see in everyone's eyes how the war truly took a toll on us; the broken look never quite leaving our faces. 

I looked up at Draco, who was staring out of the cafe window, most likely deep in thought. I couldn't help but admire his features, even if they were a bit scruffy lately, and it caused my lip to lift up in the slightest of ways.

Almost if sensing my gaze, the blonde looked over at me, his eyes a shade of grey that wasn't too light nor too dark - the same shade it's been for weeks on end, beside the times when he snaps.

"I was thinking," He spoke up in a soft voice.

"Yeah? I could tell," I grinned, watching him roll his eyes.

"Shh," Draco smiled, before continuing with a more serious look, "I want to meet your parents."

That single sentence was enough to make me freeze and almost spit out my drink, the smile vanishing from my face faster than it takes to blink, Draco noticing my horrified reaction, himself raising an eyebrow in question.

"No," Was all I managed to choke out.

"Why? Because you're afraid that they won't like me?" He asked, voice slightly raised, but not with anger.

remember me [dramione] ✔️Where stories live. Discover now