colours ✞ dramione

❝ TWELVE ❞

♕

hermione woke languidly, stretching back against her single bed with a long yawn. she had unceremoniously fallen asleep a few hours ago as she waited for a reply from the french ministry that was yet to arrive, judging by the lack of owl hoots, and reading philosophy books for fun. it was currently seven pm and, judging by the lack of noise, hyperion was still not back from his day out with darcy.

hermione smiled at that. perhaps this meant that things were hitting off for the two of them? that the dna test was positive?

with a small laugh at nothing in particular, hermione reached across her nightstand and plucked up her phone. she had two messages from harry, alarming her a little. she didn't expect another text from him for another couple days.

HARRY

thought you ought
to know that when
you bring draco
back, if he does
wish to come to
england, please
do it in time for
christmas. cissa
has gotten it into
her head that she
wants a complete
family party. i
know it's too
much to ask
considering it's
two weeks away,
but please do
mention it to
draco.

hermione frowned at that. it would be ideal if they could bring darcy back to england in time for christmas but she knew that there wasn't anything she could solidly promise. it has only been about three days since this was all thrust upon him—but then again, it had only taken those three days for him to completely trust her with a secret as heavy and defining as his magical abilities (or lack thereof). she really wouldn't be able to make correct assumptions in this case, so hermione hoped that darcy would return with hyperion so she could ask him properly.

i know this is
going to sound
awfully weird,
but how is
hyperion doing?
parkinson keeps
nagging me about
him and i think
she might fancy
him a bit, but
i suppose she
has a point.
draco probably
isn't all too
thrilled about
this whole thing
and she wants to
confirm that her
best friend's
health isn't
being compromised
as we're here like
sitting ducks.

hermione sighed, biting her lip. how does she begin to tell them of the complication that was darcy matthew's trust issues? she didn't want to lie to harry, narcissa or even pansy about the obvious restraint with darcy and the sorrow hyperion feels when he notices the curt responses, so she chose not to answer either. hermione decided she'd reply once she'd seen for herself how the two were interacting.

resigning herself to it, hermione pushed herself out of bed and slipped on her favourite pair of grey slipper-socks before she waddled out of her room and down the stairs to the kitchen. there was still a clear absence of human presence, specifically called hyperion abraxas malfoy, so hermione allowed herself this rare moment of peace.

once in the kitchen hermione debated whether or not to order food or simply make herself some fish and chips, hermione decided on the latter and turned the oven on, pulling out a tray. if she was going to have fish and chips, she'd at least be semi-healthy and oven-cook instead of frying.

as she waited for her late dinner to prepare itself, hermione settled on the barstool counter that overlooked the living/dining room and the front door. switching the radio on beside her, hermione read a famous wizarding fiction novel that was recently published to the sound of melodic french music, losing herself in the calm atmosphere she created for herself.

half an hour later, hermione once again settled at the barstool counter but this time with her fish and chips (naturally covered in grated cheese) with her book hovering before her with a lifesaving spell she discovered a few years ago. however, before she could tuck into her admittedly unhealthy dinner, the door slammed open.