laneoftheland



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    “What is it that you want?”
    So many things.
    “Books,” she said.
    He watched her for a long time before he slowly shook his head.
    “Try again.”
    Hermione huffed, irritated beyond reason that he’d seen through it.
    “I want somebody to read a book I told them about,” she said, picking at her nail bed. “Just because they want to feel close to me.”
    It came out horribly vulnerable, a needy and naked thing that ought to be clothed. Confiding in Malfoy of all people probably wasn’t wise, but he was a man transformed, no longer hollowed out by fear. He didn’t haunt the halls in penance; he lived it through his interest in his Muggle-born students, in her.
    If anybody was the ghost here, it was Hermione. She’d left behind her body once the War was over, severed the nerve endings of every emotion when it all became too much.
    Draco leaned forward.
    “Are you lonely, Granger?”
    “Are you?” she shot back, scowling.
    “All the fucking time.”

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    26 Dec 2022