𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨

chapter thirty one

The sun was already shining through the water beyond his window when he woke, something that rarely occurred due to his usual nature.

He was used to waking right before sunrise, so he could watch the rays of light dance across her flushed cheeks and brownish curls.

He wasn't used to waking up to a gaping hole within his arms and heart.

"Fuck," Draco sat up with a groan, slightly hungover from his slight tipsiness and utter heartbreak. The first thing he did was checked the hole for the note he'd left just hours before.

It was gone.

Whether it was in the trash or in her personal possession between those soft hands of hers, he was unsure.

After throwing on whatever clothes he could find without acrylic paint on them, he made his way down to the great hall. He didn't want breakfast; he just wanted to see her face.

He knew exactly what he would see, and how much it would break his heart, but walking into it with that knowledge didn't make it hurt any less.

She was besides Pansy and Ginny at gryffindor table, and the moment Ginny laid eyes on him, her stare grew hard.

Hermione glanced his way, noticing her reaction and Ginny answered with, "Don't even bother looking at him."

His eyes stung when her eyes drifted away from his own, back towards the surface of the table. She hadn't eaten any of the food offered to her, despite Pansy's consistent push of the plate in her direction.

"Are you gonna sit down about it, mate?" Theodore called him from the slytherin table, but he didn't answer. Draco grabbed a slice of toast to temporarily tame his hunger, and stormed out of the great hall with vigor.

His gut was starving with purpose, heart driving with the passion to earn her back as though it was his god given right.

He ignored every strange look he received for seeming so disheveled that early Sunday morning, and ignored the calls of his friends as they yelled after him near the exit of the great hall.

With every step his determination grew, and by the time he'd returned to his dormitory, he slammed the door shut, and began to brainstorm on a piece of sketch book paper.

............

When he knocked on her door that night at ten o'clock after nearly two hours of self preparation, hair messily combed to the side, dress shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows with a beautiful bouquet of roses in his ringed hands, he half expected her to not open the door.

When it creaked open his heart jumped at the sight of her curls, but it dropped the moment she began to swing the handle back into it's hinges.

"Granger," Draco pleaded, the door pausing it's close, left open just a touch.

"I don't even know why I'm mad at you," Hermione mumbled after a long pause, her small hand wrapped around the side of the door she'd left ajar.

"Underlying resentment?" Draco asked quietly with a slight smile, and he swore he could feel her grin through the wood that blocked her face, "Can we please talk?"

To his delight the door opened completely, and she allowed him to follow her inside as she sat down on her bed with crossed legs.

"You don't even have to say anything, not if you don't want — I just want you to listen," Draco exclaimed, standing before her bed