A Tale of Two Dragons: A Dramione Story

Chapter 8

They had arrived in Romania in the early afternoon. They had procured a map and jumped into a cab that would take them to the trailhead where they could find brooms that they had arranged for the dragon keepers to leave in the woods.

Draco had never been in a car before, and he felt uncomfortable as more cars whizzed around him. How do they not all crash into each other? This doesn't seem safe. Draco maintained a white-knuckled grip on the door handle. As distracted as he was, he couldn't ignore that Hermione was sitting close to him in the cramped cab. Very close. She smelled like parchment and fruity soap and something else he couldn't place. Like magic, he thought. Some of her flyaway hairs were brushing his neck and cheek and looking straight ahead was all he could do to keep his hands to himself.

Hermione sat in a stony silence, filling the cab with an air of disapproval. Draco supposed this was because he didn't want to share about his nightmares last night. He was telling himself that he didn't care that she felt hurt, but he knew that wasn't true. He didn't even quite know why he had done it. Sharing his thoughts with Hermione was a new experience, and he didn't realize how much he had needed someone to talk to, especially about topics that weighed heavily on his mind. Everyone he knew was in Azkaban or dead, and he had kept to himself ever since the war. He thought it had suited him just fine, but he was learning that he couldn't be alone forever. For his whole life he thought nobody was worth his time, but he was beginning to suspect that this thought was born to guard his insecurities.

"Look, Hermione—" Draco began, though he was interrupted by the driver announcing they had arrived and demanding payment in broken English. Draco fumbled with the muggle money before Hermione snatched it from his hands, sighing in exasperation as she counted out the correct amount and handed it to the driver.

She marched right to the boot of the car, throwing his luggage roughly onto the dirt path that marked their trail. The cab peeled away, leaving them in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

A few tense seconds passed in silence as Draco stared at his feet. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "It's just hard sometimes."

Hermione didn't respond. Draco knew that she had steely willpower, and had often seen her ignore Ron's existence for months at a time. He figured he needed to fix the situation now before it got worse.

Draco sighed, forcing himself to say the words before he could think twice. "Last night I relived the six hours I spent Cruciated at the hands of the Dark Lord. That was the day I learned his threats towards me were not empty. It was the day I became a Death Eater. It was the day I learned that Voldemort had no real interest in treating Death Eaters any better than the rest of the world. We were just the ones he decided to keep alive so we would help him. It was the day I got this." Draco rolled up his sleeve, exposing the faded Dark Mark that twisted down his left forearm.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, letting the silence speak for her. She reached out and touched his left arm, tracing the Dark Mark on his arm. Draco quickly withdrew from her and walked several paces away, barely containing the tears that trembled on the edge of his vision. He heard Hermione coming up behind him, he felt her rest a hand on his shoulder. The touch communicated sympathy and compassion. It was all too much for him, and he started weeping. Hermione drew him close into a warm hug, holding him as he processed his emotions.

"He made me do terrible things, Hermione," he whispered. "I was a coward."

At this, Hermione's heart melted. She pulled him in tighter, and just simply told him that she understood. After some minutes Draco managed to compose himself. He wiped away his tears, straightened his shirt, and combed his fingers quickly through his hair.