6Hello there! Welcome to my little collection, where I will randomly post little (or large) drabbles whenever I feel like it, so no update schedule. I have no beta, thus all mistakes are mine. Comments and Kudos would be much appreciated and thank you for reading!
Side-ships: Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson, Ron Weasley/Padma Patil
Warning: Panic Attack
As of yet, Hermione couldn't find a reason to regret attending the Malfoys' Christmas Ball. Mrs Malfoy and Draco had been wonderfully polite, Draco and she had entered into their usual banter and shared a few dances. And damn, didn't he look handsome. Well, they had been working together for two years, good coworkers and even better just friends.
And the gathering was not mostly made up of Slytherins and purebloods, as she had earlier nervously, foolishly thought, rather several of their coworkers, Draco's family, friends- both his and hers- and then people who they had probably called out of etiquette.
She had a glass of wine in her hand, had eagerly chatted with Neville about a cross-breeding of Devil's Snare and Venomous Tentacula, congratulated Pansy and Harry on the former's pregnancy and made conversation with Ron and his fiance, Padma.
It started when the party was winding down.
She had made all socially necessary small talk with most of the guests, except a few here and there. Hermione was just planning to leave when she saw the catalyst.
Hermione had met her a few times before she, Harry and Ron had gone on the run, even nearby. But that had been before Bellatrix.
Andromeda Black Tonks.
Andromeda resembled her late sister Bellatrix immensely; both had piercingly blue eyes, dark brown hair, and the haughty expression, though Andromeda wore it better and much more gently.
Hermione knew Andromeda wasn't Bellatrix, but the moment she spotted her, Hermione's mind dragged her back in time.
Where did you get this sword from?! Crucio!
She was eighteen again, terrified and dirty, lying on the floor of Malfoy Manor, under the wand of Bellatrix and the pain.
She watched Andromeda roll her eyes at something Molly said before the pair of them laughed. Both of the older witches grew blurry in her eyesight and her shaking hands and shoulders carelessly dropped the glass, and she faintly registered the sound of the glass smashing as she darted towards the doors.
She slid down the walls of the hallway outside the ballroom and huddled into herself, cracked sobs tearing out of her throat one by one. Her arms and legs curved into herself, the attempt to protect herself from her trauma barely working.
You are lying, filthy mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts!
"Granger?" She dimly heard a voice ask.
When she coaxed her heavy, tear-soaked lids to open, she recognized Draco by his most identifying parts; his pale blonde hair, the soft, silvery glint of his intense steel eyes, and his pale complexion.
She mumbled something, the weak sound not quite as loud as her heavy breaths and her heart pumping louder than a drum.
She faintly recognized Draco hesitantly rubbing her arms, from her shoulders to her wrists and a shudder passed through her entire body. From her panic attack. Definitely from her panic attack.
"Do you want me to go get someone else?" His gravelly voice was not quite its usual drawl.
She knew Harry was still here, probably christening some poor closet or something in one of the Manor's many rooms with Pansy, the former having been there for many of her breakdowns. If she said yes for Harry, Draco would go find him for her in a heartbeat.
But Harry was not who she wanted right now, no. She wanted Draco to be her knight in shining armour right now, chasing away her nightmares. She wanted his comfort, his fingers, which were rubbing a hypnotizing pattern into the back of her neck.
We found it, please!
She crawled into his lap as much as she could and shook her head into his shoulder because honestly, she could not care about propriety right now, and she guessed he probably didn't either.
He brought his arms around her trembling form, and she felt a small, gentle kiss being pressed against her temple, hesitantly. His arms around her loosened, as if he expected her to jerk away from him, but that was the last thing she wanted.
She angled her face upwards and towards his lips, but he took her chin in his hand, stopping her.
"Are you sure?" He whispered, the shape of the words breathed onto her mouth.
"Yes," she sighed.
A beat, then—
He pressed his lips to hers, soft and supple as he devoured her mouth. His touch was entirely reverent, as he stroked and licked with his tongue, bit and suckled with his teeth, and made her soul shiver.
This, she thought, tangling her fingers into his silky soft hair, This changes everything.