A/N: This one shot is based on a prompt, which was-
"What do you mean we are married ?!"
"It's a long story."
She grabbed him by the collar and pulled close. "It's a long trip," she pointed to wards the snow covered mountain peaks outside, "you better start talking."
Time: During the war,
Morning
Setting: Trans-Siberian Railway, couples suite, coach 4-1-B2
Enjoy!
Draco looked out of the window, shifting his eyes to a more mobile view than on the pages of the book he had been reading past 5 hours. It was proving even more harder than he had speculated. A sigh escaped his lips. His face was emotionless. His reflection in the window stared back at him. Snow covered mountains sprinting in the background.
The one and only saint of the wizarding world that came up with thus plan. He had never admit it but it was actually good. No that potter could come up with something this of a long shot.
All that the plan was flee by faking his death and find the rest of the hocruxes.
Another sigh.
Yes he had become a spy for the order along with Snape. It had been his mother's dying wish. But deep down he knew he wanted the same- at least not to follow a psycho half blood. Potter was their only hope.
But he would never voice it out.
A smirk tucked his face.
The train gave a low lurch. Yet... it was enough to bring him back to the present. His smirk slid off.
His cover had almost blown up. Or was about to. But that had been covered up. The chosen one coming up with a full-fledged plan to find the remaining hocruxes.
All he needed to do was fake his death. Okay. Two deaths. Ther other than Hermione Granger herself. Being his intermediator, her identity was compromised.
A blast at Hogwarts east tower and an another at St Mungo's had done the job.
So now the question arises that... how did our "oh-so-pureblood" Draco Malfoy ended up in a muggle train, no less, to Moscow?
Well for one... this wasn't exactly in their script. Okay, just sugar coated over! "Lay low" as Kingsley had quoted it.
Second..., he had thought it would be less stressful for them if they moved continuously, so they don't need to brainstorm every day for a new place to hide.
They call it the longest train journey in the muggle world, of course.
So now he was sitting in the supposed "muggle train". He was only able to get a separate suite under the condition that the passengers were couples. So he was forced fake another incident. But a more interesting then faking deaths.
So where was Hermione Granger?
Oh, that he would had said.
She was actually-
Click!
The door to bedroom opened.
Draco sighed.
Now she was awake.
At last. It was beginning to get quite boring, as it is.
Time to face a fake interrogation.
Taking out his wand he calmly entered the small common room of their suite.
Hermione Granger stood there, in her wedding gown, wand out, still within the frame of the bedroom door.
Her eyes widened at the sight of him. Fear and dread crossed over her face.
"Malfoy?!"
"Yes?"
In comparison to her he seemed rather calm.
"How...?" She gazed around, trying to figure out everything. Her lips slightly apart in a mixed fixture of confusion and fear, as she took in the dark wood interior of the train, scanning the length of the low ceiling above to the comparitvely huge size of the window. Even the sofa were quite royally matched with the decoratives.
Clearly she was having hard time wrapping her mind around her circumtances. A perfectly coherent question was beginning to get impossible. Her mind was in absolute chaos. All she now wanted answers.
"Malfoy, wh-" she started, her pitch high enough for the neighbour passengers to hear her clearly.
"Rumor has it, we are married. So you will want to keep your voice down, love." He said almost flippantly, but Hermione noticed the desperte edge in his voice. "You don't want our neighbers to know we are fighting in only just-" he fake checked his watch, "20 hours, do you?"
"What do you mean we are married ?!"
"It's a long story."
She grabbed him by the collar and pulled close. "It's a long tript," she pointed to wards the snow covered mountain peaks outside, "you better start talking."
She stood there. Gazing at moving scenery, covered every each by snow. The view combined with her white wedding dress, beutifully contrasted with the dark interiors. Including Draco's impeccable black suit, leaving only his pale skin, grey eyes and the blond hair challengly contrasting.
He sipped from his glass of firewhisky, never taking his eyes off of her.
When he had started to explain, she had continuously denied it. Almost dutifully. Untill now... he had respectfully given her time to let it all sink, to properly understand their delicate plan which was already running in action.
He had expected questions all along during his speaking. But she had staued rather quiet. Maybe she will start now. Draco almost wished it to be true. He was testing. He was getting rather impatient he was confident enough to have no doubt. Yet he still wanted to confirm, that the effects of his Imperio hadn't lasted longer than assumed.
It felt like an enternity before she finally stirred. Her eyes met his unwavering gaze, determination shining in them. Also a glimpse of impatience. He almost smiled, although he did smirked.
"So where are the books? As per you, we can't lose more time can we? Why not start now?"
Contrasting against her impatience he finished his drink with almost an annoying, mocking slowness. He calmly stood up and gestured her to follow him into the dining room where their reaearch books were stuffed.
"Wait."
He did stopped, but didn't turn.
"Just answer me this again." Her voice was timid. Almost a strained whisper. He waited patiently. She took a long deep breath.
"Did Harry really asked you to Imperio me and flee?"
He nodded. His face still not visible to her.
"Should I trust you?"
This time he had to turn.
A swift step towards her and he trapped her against the wooden wall. Her hands were initially behind her to feel the wall while retreating backward. But when he moved even closer, she lifted her hands as if to stop him. Her fingers felt the crisp fabric of his oxford white shirt, her hands were effectivly concealed between them both. His hands were still by his sides.
He had his guards down. He was willingly letting her see him. Actually see him. Now that she was staring right into them, she couldn't help but notice that his eyes weren't steel gray as she had once imagined. No. They were like molten silver with specks of periwinkle swirling in them. She knew that sheshe could trust him now. Harry had trusted him. She was going to do the same too.
The train stopped to a sudden halt. She gasped as she was jerked towards him. Her grip tightened, wrinkling his perfect shirt. His hand on her arms steadied her. When she finally met his eyes after the few fleeting lapses, he pulled back.
"I should probably check outside. Do not leave alone."
And even before she as so much as move an inch or settle her racing heart he was out and gone. The main door swiftly clicked back into place.
...
A/N: What do you think? Praises and critics considered equal!
Also this is left open-ended... and I have decided the end.. but still not sure if I will continue or not?
Thank You to all who reviewed, followed and favourited Precarious, His way and Ostentatious!
Edited: 21-11-18
Yay! everyone! I am so please to inform you I will be continuing "Concealed"! It will be a Christmas present!
So happy Pre-Christmas season! Keep on a look out!