He pressed his lips against her forehead. “That's it. Just breathe. You got us here. You promised you'd stop and recover once we escaped, remember? I'm not the one ignoring a brain injury. You've done your part.”
She gripped his wrist with a shaking hand. “Draco — something's going to go wrong. It always goes wrong. It's always when we're so close that it all goes wrong.”
“I know,” he said, tangling his hand in her hair and pulling her closer, “but it's not all resting on you. I trusted you, and you got us here. It's your turn to trust me. We're safe here, Hermione. You're allowed to feel safe now.”
She shook her head. Her sternum felt as though it were fracturing. “I can't. I don't think I know how to.”
Her skin was painfully cold, and her whole body started shaking uncontrollably.
Draco sighed and pulled her closer. “There aren't wards here like the ones I had on your room. You're probably used to them being there in order to feel calm now.”
She sat still for a moment absorbing it before making a choking sound as she burst into tears. It as like breaking a dam. Once she started, she couldn't stop, she kept crying and crying and crying against Draco's shoulder. She felt as though she were mourning over her entire life.
He didn't try to make her stop, he just let her cry until her sobbing slowly eased and she slumped against him, feeling hollow. It was as though she'd stripped her emotions out by the roots and all that was left was a shell. Her chest kept hitching as she leaned against him. Her head felt light but throbbed as though there were a gong inside it, vibrating and resounding painfully through her skull.
When she was breathing evenly again, Draco reached into his robes and extracted a Dreamless Sleep potion from an inner pocket. “It's your turn to rest, Granger. Take it.”
She drew back, shaking her head as she looked back at the window, her fingers inching towards her wand. “Draco, if something goes wrong—”
His expression was cold granite. “I'll deal with it. Go to sleep.”
“But if—”
“Granger, if it were me, you would have poured it down my throat without asking.”
Her mouth twitched as she took the vial. She cast one last glance out the window as she pulled out the stopper and swallowed it.
Her heart was still pounding, but she could feel his hand, warm on her shoulder, as she slumped down. Everything faded away.
She woke in the middle of the night, Draco was standing in front of the window. The moonlight caught in his hair and cast his silhouette in silver. He was staring out across the field, his wand dangling from his fingertips.
She sat up, and he turned to look at her.
She looked past him, reaching for her wand. “Is everything—?”
“Everything is fine.” He stepped away from the window, pausing for a moment to find a pocket for his wand that he could access. He slipped it into an inner pocket and ran his hand down his robes as though he were wiping something off before awkwardly shrugging them from his shoulders. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
Her head felt heavy, but the pain had shifted further back in her mind. He leaned back against the headboard. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his fingers trace patterns and protective runes along her arm.
When she opened her eyes the next morning, the world was golden. Sunlight was streaming through the window, warming the bedding. Draco was asleep beside her. Her headache had finally eased to a faint throbbing. She rolled onto her stomach and stretched, sliding her hands across the sheets, and buried her face in a pillow, luxuriating in the heat and the sound of birds singing outside.
She was free. Somewhere with sunshine and magic and someone who wouldn't hurt her. She kept her eyes closed and tried to drown herself in the feeling of it.
She lay on her stomach only a moment before her bladder was prodded sharply from within by an indignant foot.
She curled onto her side, looking at Draco.
His hair had fallen across his face. It was as though she were in a dream.
She reached out tentatively and used her fingertips to catch up the platinum strands and brush them away. She wanted to memorise him all over again. In the golden light, he no longer looked like something carved out of a war. His features were softer when his expression was relaxed. She trailed her eyes along the arch of his cheekbones, his lips, the precise lines of his jaw, and his pale throat disappearing into the shadows of his clothing.
He could have been a painting.
She wanted to hold her breath and make the moment last forever.
She slipped her fingers along the shell of his ear to brush away his hair. His eyes opened, grey as a storm. She watched the light fill them as he looked at her.
The way he stared at her made the rest of the world fade away. His gaze was as possessive and ravenous as she felt.
She shifted closer and kissed him. His lips moved against hers, and his hand slid up her throat.
After a minute, she drew back wistfully. “I need to check your arm.”