Touchstone || Dramione

Chapter X: Ripples

Hermione opens her eyes the next morning to Andromeda sitting at her bed, the older woman's lips pressed together in a worried frown. "I heard you had trouble with Draco last night."

Hermione inhales for a yawn, but her jaw pops painfully and she chokes on the built up saliva at the back of her throat. After several calming breaths, she nods. "I'm sorry if he woke you. I took care of it. He's fine now... I think."

Andromeda's mouth drags farther down. "He seems better. He spoke to me briefly this morning when I came to your room but—"

"He was in here?" Hermione's face flushes red.

"He said he was checking on you."

Her blush deepens and she feels a familiar warmth pooling down, down, down into her stomach. "Malfoy is changed, I guess."

"Yes and no." Andromeda muses. "He's polite when it suits him. He was raised a snake, Hermione. Never forget that. We purebloods pride our ability to manipulate any situation, and especially those in it."

Something about her statement sticks out to Hermione. It feels wrong somehow, outdated.

She watches Andromeda for a long moment before sitting up. "Well, Malfoy doesn't have much of a situation to manipulate in this case. I can command him at any time." Saying the words feels and tastes like a greasy coin stranded under her tongue. Cheap and metallic.

Andromeda shakes her head. "See that you don't forget it."

A pregnant silence passes between them in which Hermione focuses on the queen size duvet and its not so interesting baroque pattern stitching. Malfoy had been in her room, not unlike before. Her stomach presses back into her spine as she sits up straighter, her shoulders pulling back and her nerves becoming all too aware of the lingering late night heat left behind by such a turbulent night.

"How are you?" Andromeda eventually asks, her long fingers weaving through her loose hair. She normally wears it up in a practical bun for easy maintenance with Teddy around.

"I'm fine." Hermione's eyes drift to the nightstand where Malfoy's leash is still absent. "Really, I'm fine."

Andromeda is unconvinced. "You blacked out yesterday, Hermione. Sera had to levitate you to your room and help you out of your clothes. She said you were mumbling about seeing dead faces in the water." Hermione does everything she can to avoid Andromeda's eyes, but the woman continues. "Sera said that the second she got you into your bed, you were asleep."

Hermione nibbles at her lip. "I don't remember that." Her admission is a tad frail and unsure, because she doesn't remember. She doesn't remember one bit of it.

"Sera said that Theodore is having horrible and, at times, violent nightmares, as well."

Hermione swallows, uncomfortable. "That's not surprising. He's seen the worst of it. Worse than me."

Andromeda smooths out wrinkles along the duvet. "Perhaps, it's a blessing then that your actions spirited him away from that life. Spy for the Order or not."

Hermione's eyes harden, venom curling her tongue at the thought of the war, of Riddle. "We're still in this war. Until it's over, there are no blessings."

"Blessings care not for bloodshed. They come and go when they please." Andromeda rises from the bed, but does not leave. "I will send word to the liaison who handles mine and Teddy's safe house situation. She makes frequent trips overseas. I'm sure she can purchase some Dreamless Sleep for all of you."

"That'll cause unwanted questions, Andromeda. Besides, you've done so much already." Hermione frowns. She has, more than anyone is willing to admit. The danger she and Teddy are in with them here is bad enough. Not to mention all of the reactionary trauma they are experiencing, Malfoy included. In the thick of war, neither Hermione nor Nott had time to sit back and allow all the ugly monsters simmering in the dark—waiting for those quiet nights where one hopes for peace—to come out and tear at their already crumbling walls.