NEW Chapter / NEW Artwork Commission
Ao3: The Art of Ascension by Ginnyfics21,
A Dramione fic, Rated E
Artwork commission by the lovely ameartthyst on IG
Excerpt from Chapter 48: A Work of Art
The creak of the door derailed her thoughts as she gasped and sat up in the bed. A tall shadow was just visible in the doorway before the door shut again and a whispered, “Muffliato,” broke the silence.
"Luminare," Hermione whispered, barely finding her voice as she pointed her wand towards the nearest lamp, a ball of light shooting into it and radiating from an orb under the lamp shade.
Across the room, Draco was now clearly visible in the still dim lighting as he threw a set of black robes over the back of a chair. She blinked, trying to determine if it was real; if he was really here. Her heart was beating out of her ribcage and her breath had caught somewhere in the cavity of her chest that had been suffocating her for the last two weeks. And then reality came crashing down and she threw the covers off, Crookshanks meowing and jumping from the bed to sit pin-straight in the corner of the room. Hermione climbed out of bed and stomped up to Draco, hot tears in the corner of her eyes and fury on her features.
"Hermione—" he tried to say, but she had reached him now and her fists were balled and beating against his chest as barely discernible cries of how could you’s and you absolute idiot’s and I am so angry’s poured from her lips. His hands caught her wrists as he held one to his chest and the other firmly out of hitting distance. “Hermione,” he said again. “Please. Please don’t be angry. I’m back. I’m here. I’m sorry.”
"You’re alive," she dragged in a sharp breath. “I didn’t even know if you were alive.”
"Blaise was supposed to—"
"Blaise said you were okay ten days ago. I’ve had no idea—every day—I’ve been so—damn—worried. Terrified. Why?" Words had become so difficult as tears ran down her face and all of the emotions she’d felt for two weeks burst out of her.
"Hermione, I’m sorry—"
“You left,” the words spilled out with every angry, scorned and accusatory syllable and she finally pulled her arms back from his grip.
“I had to go. For you.”
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