Gravity

Chapter 19

Draco got home late. Very late. After leaving Pansy's, he considered looking for an open bar, but common sense told him it wouldn't solve anything. It was past three in the morning when he Apparated home, still not-quite-sober. He scowled when he saw that he had arrived a few hundred feet away from his house. He blamed the vodka. And Pansy.

After what felt like a very long period of time, Draco reached his front door. He had expected to see at least one owl, if not more, waiting for him, but since there were none, he surmised that he would be bombarded with correspondence the following day.

Opening the door, Draco removed his jacket with some difficulty and dropped it on the floor. He rubbed his head. It had been a long time since he'd been this drunk. As he shuffled further into the house, he started pulling at his clothes. He loosened his tie, undid the top button of his shirt, and his hands were on his belt buckle when he noticed a strange lump on his sofa.

Frowning, he slowly pivoted to face the piece of furniture that sat under the window of his front room. Not only was there a bushy-haired mass on his sofa, but there was a teacup on the floor near the end of the sofa where her feet were, and a book on the floor, open, pages down, where it had landed when the intruder fell asleep. For her part, Hermione was curled up, her knees drawn up, as though she was cold.

Draco stared at her for a few minutes, amazed. Not only had she broken his wards-again-but she was still there, on his sofa. She hadn't got too tired of waiting around and gone home, but had read until she literally couldn't keep her eyes open. Very cautiously, as though the sound of even his breathing would wake her, he crept toward the sofa until her face came into view. Then he froze, mesmerized. He'd never seen anything or anyone so captivating.

An owl hooted outside. He jumped and Hermione stirred. The spell broken, Draco quietly left the room and Transfigured two kitchen towels into a blanket and pillow. He gently covered her with the blanket, making sure all of her was snug underneath. When he turned back toward her head to address the pillow, he saw that she was looking at him.

"Hey," she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

"Hi," he returned in a whisper. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Waiting for you."

"It's three in the morning!"

She snuggled deeper in the blanket and yawned. "Where have you been? And why are we whispering?" She almost sounded like she was drunk too, but maybe it was just being woken up in the middle of the night.

He ignored her questions. "How long have you been here?" he asked, crouching beside the sofa at her eye level.

She shrugged, and then she scrunched her nose and frowned. "Have you been drinking?"

He grimaced. "Well?"

"Well what?" she asked, yawning again.

"What did you want to see me about?"

"I don't remember. It can wait."

Draco shifted his weight. "Are you going home, then? Or staying?"

That seemed to break through her sleepy haze and she glanced around the room as though she had forgotten where she was. Then she sat up, tossed the blanket off and tried to stand. She made to walk to the door but stumbled on the way.

Draco steadied her. "You're in no condition to Apparate, that's for sure," he muttered, leading her back to the sofa.

"Hey," she said, trying to pull her arm free of Draco's grasp. "The sofa? I really should get a bed, don't you think?"