“Everyone has a weakness.”
Draco faltered at that comment but managed to keep them both steady as he mulled over her words. In the back of his brain, he had half-expected that her influence over him would wither once he had escaped her isolated dorm, but watching her now; specks of snow trapped between the strands of her hair, a blossom-blush warming her features, and trusting him like it was the easiest thing in the world, she was just as alluring out here as she was in their room.
He’d expected to revert back to his old ways
To be swarmed by his previous opinions
To hate her again, as he should.
She had somehow become his weakness.
“I think I’ve got it now,” Hermione said, her voice rich with concentration. “Let go of one of my hands-
“Forgive me,” Draco blurted suddenly, halting them where they were and grasping her upper arms. His breathing became laboured as he watched the shock swirl in her Autumn-shaded eyes, and he resisted that ever-present urge to kiss her slightly parted lips as he waited for her response. “Forgive me,” he repeated, quieter this time.
For everything I have ever done, and everything I will inevitably do to hurt you in the future.
Blame it on that sentimental rush that Christmas apparently inflicted on the unsuspecting, or the acceptance that his attraction to her existed beyond the walls of her dorm, or even that he wanted to repay her for reminding him how the wind felt, but he needed this one moment of clarity before they returned to the castle. She was the only aspect in his dark existence that was close to pure and good, and he wanted to savour her before he, or the realities of War, destroyed this dose of peace.
“I think I forgave you weeks ago,” she told him with a sad smile, leaning up to snatch his lips and seal her promise. She felt tears slip past her lashes as she broke their kiss and rested her forehead against his, clenching her eyes shut to conceal the true level of her affection. “Merry Christmas, Draco.”
Just a Perfect Day.
You made me forget myself.
I thought I was someone else.
Isolation, Chapter 18: Gifts