Left Behind 2: Illusions (A Dramione Romance)

Worthy

This is SUCH an important chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it.

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"You're in love with her aren't you?"

Draco's whole body locked. Every muscle froze at Fred's words.

He knows...

Gods, how could he know? 

How could he not know, Draco berated himself as he remembered how he had been looking down at Hermione when Fred hit him with the accusation. He had let his walls down because he was in the oasis. After weeks of having to pretend around literally everyone else he had let his guard down around Fred... 

Draco felt a cold sweat prickle out of his pores.

Fred couldn't know.

Fred was not supposed to know.

Well what the hell do you expect? Draco yelled at himself mentally. You weren't exactly being subtle, 

He hadn't meant to be so obvious. Draco wanted to blame location, blame it solely on the fact that he was in the oasis, but there was more to it than that. It was partially how tired he was, partially the feeling like he might not make it through this entire ordeal and partially the fact that he had had several glasses of wine on an empty stomach that had led to his walls coming down in front of the redhead.

Idiot. You're an idiot Malfoy.

As if on cue Hermione murmured something in her sleep and snuggled in closer to the pillow on Draco's knee.

Draco's heart ratcheted in his chest and he felt light headed. He was acutely aware of the fact that he hadn't said anything back or refuted Fred's comment.

A million comebacks raced through Draco's mind:

'No.'

'How could you say that?'

'Like hell I am.'

'What are you mad?'

'She's not my kind.'

'There's nothing between us.'

All were lies and looking across at Fred Draco knew there was no point in arguing or denying the truth. While Fred had phrased it as a question, it was oblivious that the redhead had already seen the answer to his question. And if it hadn't been obvious before, the length of time that had passed between the asking of the question was evidence in and of itself.

"Yes," Draco answered, his throat constricting around the word.

It was the first time he had admitted it to anyone other than himself and it felt horrible.

Even Draco barely heard his own voice so he cleared his throat and looked Fred in the eye, cleared his throat a little and managed:

 "Yes."

"Hmph," Fred sat back and leaned against the side of the bed -frame "Figures."

"What do you mean figures?" asked Draco feeling panicked. 

The freezing in his limbs gave way to a rush of blood. His cheeks were flushed red and it had nothing to do with the wine.

Why isn't he yelling at me?

Why isn't he attacking me or throwing something at me or calling me a worm?

How the hell is 'Figures' his damn answer?