Draco had expected his mother to make sure he'll feel comfortable, even though he had assured her that he'd managed with much less back in his old flat, but she would hear none of it. Even so, the room he just entered surprised him more than he had anticipated.
At first glance Draco noticed the room wasn't just a bedroom, but also contained a small study room.
The bedroom part, to the left, was spacious and it was furnished almost like the one he had at the Manor, without the opulence though. The bed was big, covered with green covers and white pillows. Two small nightstands were placed on each side of the bed.
The study room was situated in front of a big row of windows that let the autumn light in through delicate semi-transparent drapes. The desk was simple, made of a black wood and it resembled the one his father, Lucius had at the Manor, but smaller. There were sheets of parchment and quills, neatly placed on its surface.
There was also a fireplace that seemed to occupy half of the right-side wall. Facing it there were two black leather armchairs and a small couch, with a silvery white carpet underneath.
Draco took in the room and nodded, smiling to himself, pleased with his mother's choice of decorations. Apparently, his entreaties he made to his mother to keep it simple had some degree of success. This entire space was simple, yet elegant and comfortable.
Then a door on the far left of the room attracted Draco's attention. He reached it in a few strides and opened it slowly, peering inside. There, he saw a bathroom, with a large bathtub in the middle and a shower cabin in the far back. The colors were a beautiful mixture of dark green and silver.
Pleased with this part of his living space as well, he closed the door and headed to the fireplace. With a flick of his wand he lit the fire and slumped into one of the armchairs. He felt tired and a subtle streak of nervousness was starting to ebb into his mind.
She was supposed to arrive in a few hours. His mother had told him that she confirmed the hour a day before and that was the main reason he wanted to arrive early. Now, he dreaded the moment.
With a loud groan he grabbed his head with his hands, pulling slightly at his hair.
"Why is this happening to me?" he said in a strangled voice.
Knowing he won't receive an answer anytime soon, Draco leaned his head back into the armchair, covering his eyes with one arm. Different and confusing thoughts, one more painful than the other, kept tugging at his mind.
"How am I supposed to look at her?" he continued to talk to himself. "I saw her getting tortured in my house, in front of me. She yelled and screamed in pain and all I could do was watch. I hated her while in school. I think I still do. Not only that but I also…"
His solitary ramble was suddenly cut off by a loud popping noise. Apparition sound.
'Granger', Draco's mind supplied.
Hermione had arrived. Draco felt the color drain from his already pale face and his insides lurched. He felt sick.
"She's here. She's here…" he kept saying in a panicked whisper.
Draco looked positively terrified. His eyes were wide and almost manic, and he kept wringing his hands, trying to make them stop shaking. He was breathing hard and out of rhythm.
Willing himself to get up, he reached the door and slowly cracked it open, stopping to listen. He caught his breath, trying to catch another noise coming from the common room. Then he heard footsteps closer to the hallway that reached his room and, with panic rising, he snapped the door shut.
Draco backed away quickly, casting a silencing charm, all the while looking at the door with trembling eyes, as if frightened it would be blown away any second. But nothing happened.
"Stupid fool! You're acting like a bloody fool, Draco Malfoy." he berated himself, sliding into an armchair, closing his eyes, pressing a hand against them.
He couldn't help it, though. The bravado he'd shown at the hospital days ago was mostly due to anger and frustration. At the time he felt to be at his lowest and to have Hermione Granger of all people, coming upon him just then, triggered a strong reaction in him. He disliked her and everything about her, there was no doubt in his mind about that, but somehow, at that moment in the hospital he felt very uncomfortable, almost… insecure.
He frowned against his hand and let out an annoyed grumble.
'Draco Malfoy, feeling insecure? What has the world come to?'
This is exactly why he had started consuming those substances after the war. It made it easier to create and maintain the harsh, cold and impassible appearance of a Slytherin pure-blooded Death Eater. It had started to become more and more difficult to do so as the time passed, and he kept recalling all the evil things he's seen. Now, without them, he felt too vulnerable, too… human.