Wanderer

Feverish

Chapter Fifteen- Feverish

She wasn't at breakfast the following morning.

Draco had slept well, better than he had done in a long time. He still woke up before the sun had sunk to the bottom of the Black Lake, saturating his room, but his eyes didn't sting like they usually did, his head didn't ache. He felt rested, at peace. Draco even let himself lie in bed for a few minutes.

Draco shifted and he felt the coolness of the band around his ankle. It didn't feel as tight as usual. He wondered if McGonagall had made it slacker. Running a hand over his face, he remembered the way the snow had felt on his skin, the way the heat in the pub had enveloped him and the heat from the Whiskey burned his throat, the way Hermione's hand felt in his, her head against his shoulder, her laugh ringing, the look in her eyes when she looked at him-

Draco pressed his palms into his eyes and let out a strangled noise. What in damnation was that witch doing to him? Had she hexed him? Or was it just that he was so desperate for someone to see him that he was starting to long for Hermione Granger to hold his hand again?

Just seeing her was enough to make his soul settle. He felt like he'd been lost for so long, wandering, searching for a way to be good again, that finding his destination was a dream. It didn't feel real. Yesterday had been the best day he'd had in so long and the fact that she'd gone to so much effort to make it possible, to make it legal, to help him breathe again... Granger had always given 100% to everything she put her mind to. There was something different with this, though, with him. He knew she was invested. He saw it in her eyes when she asked if he was okay, in her blood when she'd bitten her lip raw from trying to figure him out, in the wobble of her voice when she told him she didn't hate him.

That was why, when Granger wasn't at breakfast when he finally meandered to the Great Hall, it made him sick to his stomach. He stood, frozen, in the doorway, eyes roving over the red and gold table. Blaise was watching him and Draco forced himself to move over to the Slytherin table and sit beside his friend to avoid attracting any more odd looks. He swallowed thickly.

"Sleep well?" asked Blaise, still eyeing him.

"Yeah," replied Draco but he was distracted.

Blaise frowned at him then followed his gaze. He sighed. "She hasn't come in yet."

Draco looked at him quickly. "Who?"

His friend looked at him like they both knew it was a redundant question.

"Why should that matter to me?" asked Draco, but he also knew he wasn't fooling either of them.

Blaise didn't even bother to answer. He helped himself to some bacon. "Where were you yesterday anyway? I couldn't find you skulking anywhere in the castle."

Draco stayed silent for a long time. Eventually, he murmured, "What if I wasn't in the castle?"

The fork Blaise had been holding clattered to his plate, attracting a few scowls and startled glances. His friend's eyes flicked to him wildly, then he ducked his head closer and said in a low voice, "Then you're flirting with the law, Draco. You know that."

Draco swallowed. "What if I told you it was legal?"

"The Ministry gave you permission?" Blaise demanded.

Draco looked at him. He nodded once.

Blaise leaned back and let out a long whistle. "Fuck." He laughed. "How'd you manage that?"

"McGonagall."

"But how? Why?"

There was something at the back of Draco's mind that suggested he should tell Blaise the truth but admitting it felt like too much to say. "I don't know."