Disclaimer: JKR owns it all, and I don't make any money by writing this, I just do it because I am bored a lot :)
"We're lost," Hermione stated matter-of-factly for the millionth time. They had been walking for miles, and she could have sworn she had already seen that exact tree they just passed at least three or four times.
"I told you, we are NOT lost!" Draco Malfoy growled the same answer in his same irritated scowl.
"Pshh… walking around aimlessly freezing our arses off for over two hours and we're not lost, huh?" she said, glaring at him. It was his fault they were lost, he had been leading the way after all.
"We'd only be lost if we didn't know where we are. I know exactly where we are. We're in the Forbidden Forest," he sneered pompously.
"Precisely the reason we're lost! We don't want to be in the Forbidden Forest anymore, we got the Unicorn hairs over and hour ago. Now we should be back in Hogsmead where we'd be able to apparate and I'd be home already! So excuse me 'Oh Great Leader Ferret Man,' but we are lost!"
"Thank you Captain Obvious. So we're lost, and if we don't find our way back soon we are likely be eaten by some crazed fanged monster of that barbaric oaf you're so fond of. And even if we do somehow survive off meals of yellow snow cones and dirt, we'll just end up killing each other. So please forgive me for trying to keep a positive outlook and be a man, so as not to frighten your poor scared little girl brain."
"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes. "The day you become a man is the day Gregory Goyle is elected Minister for Magic."
They continued to walk on, their breaths creating steamy clouds in the otherwise clear night air. Every now and then they would hear crunching snow or breaking branches beyond their line of sight. They both were well equipped with their wands though, so there was no reason to be afraid… yet.
"You know, I almost don't want to get home, I'm just really enjoying our time together oh so much. It'll be a shame when I get back to my nice warm mansion, and don't have any obnoxious know-it-alls to squawk in my ear."
"If you're lucky maybe I'll stop by and visit you and good ol' Lucy."
"If I'm lucky my father will find out your cute little nickname for him and turn you into a pair of mittens and a matching scarf so I can begin to feel my face again!"
"Well if I'm lucky your lips will freeze together and I won't have to listen to any more excuses for why you got us lost!"
"Why I got us lost!? You're the reason we're even here in the first place! If I do recall, you insisted on discarding all the hairs we already had because you decided they weren't worthy enough for wand cores, and without even consulting me, sold them to the apothecary for potion ingredients. A hair is a hair! And no hair is worth ruining my 500 galleon dragon hide boots for!"
"Who wears 500 galleon boots in a forest? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to impress me," she smirked, raising a snowflake encrusted eyebrow at him.
"Humph," was his only response. He crossed his arms and pouted, while Hermione stifled her laughter in her gloved hands.
They two most unlikely business partners walked along in silence for a while. Hermione's mind started to drift back to how they had ended up stuck together, constantly bickering like an old married couple. After the war had ended, and Draco discovered that he had been the Master of the Elder Wand without even knowing it, he had become practically obsessed with wandlore. He had moved to the States to study under one of the great wand makers there, because it was rumored that Mr. Olivander had already taken on an apprentice. Little did he know, Hermione had been said apprentice.
After two years of working under the old wizard, the one and only Olivander had passed away, leaving Hermione to take on the heavy load by herself. To her dismay, she found she just could not keep up with the extreme demand for wands in the years after the war. Not only were the thousands of wands that were kept in the store completely destroyed by Death Eaters, but half the wizarding population that had fought in the war had broken theirs as well, and impatiently awaited replacements. She had no choice but to hire someone to help her, which meant that she had no choice but to hire Draco, as he was the only one who applied for the position.
That was three years ago, and although neither one would ever admit it, they had become quite fond of one another, or more or less accustomed to each others' presence. America had changed Draco in many ways. He was away from the influence of his father for the first time in his life, and surrounded by muggleborns and half-bloods, as there were no surviving pureblooded families in Salem.
Draco's muttered cursing brought Hermione back to the present.
"Dammit… so bloody cold… worst – idea—EVER!"
"Would you like some cheese with that whine, Malfoy?" she snickered at him. He really did look quite ridiculous in his expensive but highly impractical black wizards cloak and pointed boots. He wasn't even wearing any gloves or a hat! His shoulders were hunched forward and hands clamped together inside of his robes, in a vein attempt to keep warm.
'What an idiot.'
"You think you're funny, don't you? Well you want to know what I think is funny?"
"That booger hanging from your nose?" she suggested innocently.
"What!? I do not!" he shouted indignantly. While he was scrunching up his nose and sniffing, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth, she pelted him in the face with a show ball and ran away, howling with laughter.
"I'll get you for that one! Get back here!" he shouted, stomping his foot on the frozen ground. He heard her squeal of laughter off in the distance, groaned at the sky in a tone that clearly stated 'Why me!?' and took off after her.