requirement | dramione

0.25

When the door to the Room of Requirement crackled to life and pushed open, Draco bounced to his feet. He had been sitting, impatiently pulling at his fingers, and anxiously tapping his feet in anticipation for her arrival. When he rose, there she was, standing in the new doorway.

"You're late," was the first phrase from his mouth. He kicked himself, internally and silently of course, and wished that he had said "hello" or something even moderately polite. Hermione's brow instantly furrowed and, at the same time, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I am not." She shot back. 

Draco looked her over, noticing that she had changed out of her school things from the time that he had seen her in Advanced Potions Making. She was now dressed in a pair of faded jeans that hung off her hips and widened around the ankles. Her top was coated by a zipped sweater, gray with white accents.

"Besides, we never set a time. You can't call me late if you never established when exactly would qualify me as early, on time, or late."

Her response, both structured and pungent, shocked Draco. He hadn't actually meant to offend her. His lip curled, devilishly. "Right! After lessons end tomorrow, then?" He replied, utterly sarcastic and completely unsure of how she would react.

"Well, no. That would never work." Her arms relaxed as she walked towards him, but her brow furrowed. Was he trying to be funny?

"Obviously, Gryffindor. I'm not a half-wit."  

"We can't open the Room while there are so many students wandering around up here." She said it as if she thought he were dim, even still. "It has to be after supper, once all of the Gryffindor's are out of this hall. It's much easier for me if I get caught over here, since this is my floor. But for you–" She was now standing an arm's length away from him, "especially you, being seen up here would put you in a spot light that I do not think you'll want to be in."

"'Especially me?'" Now it was Draco's turn to fold his arms against his chest.

Hermione sighed, leaning her head down as she squeezed her eyes closed. "Right... Sorry."

Her eyes met his again, like she were searching for affirmation, and he felt his shoulders relax. His stiff posture softened under her gaze and he let his arms drip down to his side, resting there as he took long breaths.

"Did you bring that book?" She stepped towards him, glancing her head around to where he had been sitting, "Last night I was thinking that the book should have a list of mending spells and enchantments. If I'm right, our best bet will be to sort through the key terminology, then simply try them."

Draco instructed her to follow him to where he had left the large book, placed on the empty chair that he had pulled from the large pile in the midst of the large room. He picked up the textbook, prying open the rough cover and fingering to the page that he had marked.

"See, I'd already thought of that...." The pages fanned open, revealing the exact list that Hermione had imagined, "Here. All spells used for repairs."

He sunk a long pointer finger down on to the page. Hermione's mouth fell open. His finger had been blackened. The color of soot. His middle finger too.

"Draco–"

"Rubbish spell." He interrupted her. His tone was cool and hard, but not sharp to the touch. She tore her eyes away from his burnt nail, staring up at him intensely. 

There was no color in his cheeks today, nor his eyes. He looked gray and pallid, even though he wore an attitude that was significantly better than most days. She fought the urge to reach for him. To haul him down to the infirmary and demand that he see Pomfrey.