The Pull of the Moon

Hermione laid in bed, the silent night floating around her in the dark bedchambers of her tiny apartment. The moonlight shined onto her knitted comforter; the lumps of her slim legs casting shadows on the wall. It was always nights like these when she remembered her past, and when her little self-confidence seemed to vanish all together. It wasn't a surprise when she felt warm fingertips slowly slide up her shoulder, over the sleeves of her nightshirt, then to the nape of her neck where they stopped and began to move in a circle. Although the massage felt somewhat welcome, tears were still sliding down her wet face.

"What's wrong, love?" Draco asked quietly, sensing the tension that floated in the air between them. She had cried every night since they had been together, and nothing he did seemed to help her. Whenever he asked what was wrong, she would simply whimper, close her eyes and drift off to sleep, Draco's arms tightly around her in a protective manner. He never slept on those nights, instead wondering what he had done wrong to hurt her so painfully. It didn't take him long until he realized it wasn't what he had done, however, but it was something in the past that was haunting her. He waited a few more minutes, then slipped his arms around her waist like so many times before and sighed, coming to the conclusion that tonight would not be the one he had waited for.

To his surprise, it was that night. "I miss him," Hermione stated, her eyes transfixed on the shadow of the moon that traveled through their curtains. Her words echoed in Draco's ears, his heart sinking and rising at the same moment, although he never thought it was possible. His left pale hand raised itself to her face, wiping away the stinging tears that flowed down her moonlit face so slowly, like blood dripping out of a deep wound. His grip around her tightened, thinking maybe if he held her close enough, maybe the pain would rub onto him, then she wouldn't suffer. Her words were not as much of a shock once they settled in the air, knowing her heart still ached for Ron.

They had been together since their sixth year at Hogwarts, until his death at the last battle with Voldemort. She had seen him be drained of his soul, feeding the dementors that stood stoutly around the unforgettable image of Lord Voldemort, his wand aimed at Ron precisely. She remembered screaming as he collapsed, her own voice molded into the words that killed him. Hermione shook violently, making Draco retreat his arms from around her waist where they had settled moments before and sit up hastily, his mind spinning with ideas on what to do.

"HE KILLED HIM," Hermione screamed, her voice echoing through the cold, barren room. "THAT BASTARD KILLED HIM!" Her jaw was hanging open, her tongue limp between her teeth. Her eyes were shut, and Draco could no longer hear her breathe. She had stopped shaking, and she was lying as still as death. Draco grabbed her shoulders and shook her, afraid that she had let herself get too emotional, that Voldemort had won, and took another precious victim.

"NO!" Draco shouted, panicked tears sweeping down his sheer-skinned face. He thought he could die himself when he saw her eyes flicker back open, and her breathes coming back to normal pacing. "Goddamnit," Draco whispered under his breathe as she sat up beside him and fell into his arms, sobbing quietly. "Don't do that, don't ever do that."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I thought maybe it would be better just to die. I just...," Hermione retreated from his arms slowly, hating the image of Draco's utterly confused and mangled face. "I thought you would hate me. For still loving him and all..."

Draco shook his head violently, wrapping his arms around her once again and letting her chin rest on his shoulder. "I'll never hate you, Hermione. I know you saw everything that happened, and I know you loved him. But you can't just try and ignore it, it will end up killing you, and I'd rather die myself than see that happen." Hermione smiled sadly, her fingers dancing over the skin on his back gracefully. Even after countless nights of ignoring him like he was never there, after holding all of her thoughts and emotions that he so desperately wanted to know inside, he still loved her. The repeating line of images of Ron collapsing on the ground slowly faded, and everything seemed to be more warm, more welcoming. She knew now that she wasn't alone, and she didn't have to make herself be alone in Ron's honor. She found herself sitting a few inches away from Draco, his arms pulling her down back onto the mattress slowly. "You need rest, lots of it. I know you haven't slept." But as she was lowered onto her pillow, Hermione noticed the black circles around Draco's shining, beautiful eyes. Guilt panged her heart, knowing she had worried him so much. So much time had gone past, and she hadn't even thought about his own thoughts and worries. He worried about her. So much, that he never slept. Draco swept a brown cluster of hair out of her eyes, and frowned when he saw the tears welling up once again.

"I've been such a bitch to you," Hermione said through gritted teeth, wanting to kick herself for being so idiotic. "I didn't even think about what you needed." Draco silenced her, putting his finger to her mouth as he lay beside her, the first glimpse of smile flickering through his expression.

"There's no point in talking about it now. It's the past, it's over." He now had a full on grin, which puzzled Hermione until he continued speaking. "Anyways, I was five times bitchier to you when we were in school than you've ever been." They both laughed quietly, and looked at each other proudly. Things, although they weren't going to be completely there for a long time, if ever, we're starting to become normal. They shared a kiss, and Hermione watched through squinting eyes as Draco drifted off to sleep peacefully in her arms. She turned her head back to the windowpane, where the moon shone through like a welcome. It pulled her in, her eyes dancing in the reflection of the glass like that of the child she once was. The dark shadows were now on two sets of tangled feet, instead of just her own. With a smile on her face, Hermione drifted off to sleep in blessed content.