A/N: This is a completely random idea that took form whilst I was on a plane during Christmas break and I've only just decided to post it. Not entirely sure if it's a one-shot just yet. I haven't updated my other story yet and it's because of a major lack in ideas and willingness to actually continue. So I'm sorry about that to anyone who's actually following Chain Reaction. Aside from that, hope you like the story and whatnot.
The title is taken from a song by Mat Kearney with the same name and greatly influenced the plot or lack thereof.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its affiliates belong to J.K Rowling.
Muggle transportation had never been the preferred method of travel for witches and wizards. For Hermione Granger however, she would choose it any day over port-keys. She absolutely dreaded the feeling of being sucked in through a tube only to be dumped none too gracefully in a heap on the other side, also known as your destination. But it was more than just the feeling; it was the fact that she would ultimately never master the art of port-keying. That in itself was probably her main reason for choosing muggle transportation, though she would never tell anyone.
Choosing to take a plane to Beijing however, was not one of her best ideas and she admitted as much. She was scared of heights for one (why do you think she'd never played Quidditch?) and she was slightly claustrophobic. Those two factors put together created a very nervous and frantic Hermione Granger.
Still, she found herself on an eleven hour flight to Beijing one early, frigid, December morning. The trip itself wasn't spur-of-the-moment, not even the mode of transport. No, everything was perfectly planned down to the very last detail as in true Hermione Granger fashion. Why Beijing you ask? Well, Hermione didn't really know whilst planning either,but now, it was a because of her need to escape that drove her to leave. She wanted to escape from the war, the death, the aftermath – everything. It was like a disease that sunk into every crevice and pore, into your very being; until you lost all that you once were and became nothing but a shell.
Sure the war was over, had been for over seven months now. Voldemort was dead, and Harry prevailed but did that really change anything? The wizarding world was rid of one hypocritical purist but there were still so many more. The aurors were on the hunt for remaining Death Eaters and Harry was determined to bring every one of them down. He felt personally responsible for the events that occurred throughout his lifetime and his vendetta against Voldemort's followers was just that much more important to him.
She felt the unfamiliar feeling of guilt slither through her body at the thought of leaving her friends, people who needed her. She was the voice of reason, the one everyone turned to when things were falling apart. Who did she run to when she was bursting at the seams? Her parents were still in Australia, as Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins and she just wasn't ready to remove the memory charms and face them. She had to be strong, less broken. She could never truly be whole again. That was the effect of a lifetime of war. It changed people, chipping away at pieces of you.
She wrung her hands nervously as the plane made a sudden lurch, beginning its journey on the tarmac. She specifically asked for an aisle seat, at least that way she wouldn't see out the window. But where was she seated at this moment? A fucking window seat. And the old geezer next to her in first class refused to switch. Could this trip begin any worse? Was it a sign? She almost laughed but the fact that she was in a filled aircraft would make her seem like a lunatic.
Calmly, she gestured to a flight attendant and told her about her predicament. She found out soon enough that while the flight was completely booked, there was a gentleman with an empty seat that just happened to be an aisle seat. Hermione smiled graciously but felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake her so she ran to the lavatory.
Yanking the door shut, she took a deep breath and splashed some cold water on her face. She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror and grimaced slightly. She looked like she had been through hell and back. And she had. Her face was pale and took on an almost grey undertone, eyes were sunken and she was bordering on stick thin, her clothes hung limply off her hunched shoulders and her hair was frizzed irreparably. She fingered her long, auburn tresses for a moment before twisting it into a thick plait at the base of her neck. The first thing she was going to do once she got to Beijing was cut off her hair. Drastic changes were what she needed. Feeling marginally better, she exited the lavatory to find that the attendant was waiting on her to accompany her to her new seat.
She was led back to the first class cabin, collected her things and moved closer to the front of the aircraft. The attendant stopped at the intended row and Hermione stares at a distinct head of blond hair that was currently looking gout the window. No, it couldn't. He would never. He's above that. But as soon as the head turned to look at her, she knew it could only be Draco Malfoy.
She settled into her seat tentatively and still he was staring at her. She could see his face clearly in her periphery and she didn't like his expression in the least. His jaw was clenched tightly and his face was stony and impassive. She wasn't faced with the same bratty boy of her youth. This was someone else. A man, undoubtedly, hardened and made menacing by the war. It wasn't the same boy that would sneer at her and call her names. This new (not so much improved) version of Malfoy didn't even acknowledge her.
She supposed that it had something to do with seeing your mother brutally killed by none other that your own father and knowing you could do nothing to stop it from happening. She'd heard things of course. Everyone had. It was major news in the Daily Prophet for weeks after, cataloguing Lucius Malfoy's capture and subsequent trial and sentencing. She suspected that he'd either already had or was going to have a mental breakdown – like his father. She didn't want to believe it but seeing him now, she was starting to recall all the rumours. He'd abandoned the wizarding world after that, and she'd only seen him a handful of times leading up to the war. He never actually supported Voldemort, but the same could be said for the Order's side as well, though they'd offered him immunity.
He would be at the Headquarters sometimes, being briefed on things concerning the Manor and advances on his father but he would never speak to anyone. She'd always tried to be friendly to him, smile and greet him. Harry and Ron thought her a fool for trying but hey, at least he was still alive. Hermione could see that he was fading, surviving only to serve the needs of others and she hated it. It was the principle of the matter, not the fact that he was Draco Malfoy. He was a human being and deserved to be treated as such. But he was here now, in an airplane to Beijing, sitting next to her. She couldn't help but wonder why. Could it be that he was trying to escape, just like her?
The pilot came over the speakers just then, beginning their journey. The plane picked up speed, engines wheezing to life, seats rattling and Hermione gripped the armrests tightly, eyes squeezed shut as the ground beneath them disappeared. They rose and rose and she could feel her stomach clenching apprehensively.
"Oh Gods, I'm so stupid. Why did I decide to do this?"
But as soon as everything started, their rough beginning was over and the aircraft was gliding safely in the air at ten thousand feet.
She felt something move beneath her hand and she realised, belatedly, that she was gripping Malfoy's hand. Not the armrest. Just kill me now. She quickly released his hand and he began flexing it slightly as if to regain some feeling after Hermione's death grip on his hand.
"I'm sorry; I didn't wasn't aware that I was holding onto something other than the armrest. I'm just extremely nervous and …" she trailed off upon noticing the way he was looking at her. Was he actually smiling – no, laughing at her? It appeared that way for his body shook slightly as he tried to hide it. This was certainly unexpected and Hermione found herself growing more agitated by the second. Count on Malfoy to laugh at my expense.
"Granger, if I knew you were going to provide this much entertainment, I would've invited you along."
What? Did he even realise what he just said? Apparently so because he didn't look revolted or appalled in the least to be sitting near her.
"Um, Malfoy, are you positive you're alright? You do know you're on a muggle plane to Beijing?"
"Really? I hadn't noticed that. What would I have done if you weren't there to point it out? Granger, I'm not stupid and contrary to popular belief, I chose to do this. I just need …" he stopped then, unsure how to say what he was feeling and if he should even tell her. But most of all he was wondering why the hell he was telling Granger of all people these truths he'd locked away even from himself.
"You just need to get away? Escape?" He nodded slightly when she spoke and thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad sitting next to Granger for the entire flight.
"I get it. I mean I just couldn't take it anymore so I started planning this trip. I didn't tell anyone. Just packed a suitcase once I got everything ready, wrote a note and left. I'm not sure if going to regret using an airplane but it isn't so bad right now."
He leaned over, "That's because you're not thinking about where you are. If, however, I were to tell you that we are now thousands of feet in the air being transported in a contraption that requires no magic and could very well drop out of the sky at any second …" she gripped his hand and the armrest again, fighting back the nausea that threatened to overcome her. "Well you get my point." She glared at him; he smirked slightly and looked down at their clasped hands. She released it just as suddenly as the first time and hit him none too gently on his arm.
"Don't do that! I'm scared of flying!"
"I can't promise that one. You're just so entertaining to provoke."
"Well forgive me for not wanting you to make fun out of my embarrassment and obvious displeasure!"
"Well I apologize. Anyway, why did you tell me all of that and not Potter and Weasley?" He said it with a grimace that he didn't try to mask.
"If you must know," she stared pointedly at him, willing him to contradict, "I wasn't planning on telling anyone but you're here and Harry and Ron … I just don't think they'd understand my reasons right now. They've got their own losses to deal with and it's just better if I handle this alone. Why are you …" she stopped, realizing that the question was far too personal to ask someone who'd been the bane of her existence for over six years.
"Why am I what, Granger? Spit it out. You know you want to ask." He was glaring at her, eyes filled with hatred for reasons he didn't even know and she suddenly felt the urge to slap it off his face. She met his eyes, matching his look but little did she know that he didn't in the least hate her. Well maybe not anymore.
"Fine!" she half shouted indignantly, "Why are you being so civil with me? Why are you here? Why did you leave in the first place? What made you do this?" She motioned wildly around the vessel they currently sat in, as if that would clarify her questions.
He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "There you go. Always trying to fit pieces of a puzzle together. Always trying to fix somebody. Well newsflash Granger, I can't be fixed." He said those last words so softly she almost thought she'd imagined them but then he was speaking again. "I'll answer your questions. Not because I trust you, but you're no one of consequence. Who are you going to run and tell anyway? I figure that you're not going back to London quite yet and it's not like I've got anything to lose." Because I've already lost anything that was ever important to me. "Don't take it the wrong way but it's not like you and I were ever friends." She stared at him, mouth slightly agape, unable to process this change of events. Who'd have thought that Hermione Granger would be the one to get answers to questions people longed to know from the pureblood prince himself, Draco Malfoy?
"First off, I'd like you to forget everything you've ever thought you knew about me. I don't see the need to be a rude bastard to you, ranting and raving about blood. You've proven time and again that blood matters in the least and everything I ever did was to save face. Didn't you notice that I never said anything to you when I was on my own?" he asked rather imploringly and coming to think of it, she had noticed that he was silent around her, nary an insult escaping his lips. But he was like that all the time. How was she to know that he was changing?
"Secondly, you answered that question for yourself. I needed to leave. I'm on a plane because the muggle world is the last place anyone would ever think to look for me. I can't go back. Not yet at least. Your last two questions go hand in hand, by the way. I left because everywhere I went I was reminded of the fact that I was the son of Lucius Malfoy. I saw the way everyone would look at me whenever I showed my face, judge me for what I hadn't done. I just couldn't take it anymore. Are you satisfied?"
Hardly. Hermione was actually more curious about the man sitting next to her than she would ever admit to anyone. Realizing that that was the most she would ever get out of Malfoy at any one time was enough to quell the urge to ask more of him.
"So what's your story? Why has the know-it-all decided to leave?" The mood had lightened considerably after Draco's heavy confession and Hermione was beginning to feel comfortable with his presence. Hermione hadn't planned to tell Draco anything. No, she was content to just sit next to him and ignore him for the entire trip. If only she didn't have a fear of heights or grabbed his hand for that matter. Everything felt so out of place to her but where she was, next to Malfoy of all people, swapping the reasons for leaving, everything felt almost okay. And maybe, if they hadn't been enemies, Voldemort never existed and the war had never taken place, they could've been friends. She would've liked that. She had to tell him why. Hermione had no doubt that she would've answered any and all questions he had for her just then because she felt like he would understand her the best out of everyone she'd ever known. He would just get her.
"I already told you the main part but I left because I just felt alone and I was sick of living with all that death surrounding me and tired of being the one that fixed everything. I was sick and tired of the world I was being forced to live in. I'm nineteen years old for Merlin's sake. Not ninety! I shouldn't have to feel like today's the day I'm going to die or that my whole life has passed me by and I haven't even lived it yet! I want to see the world, find true love, get married. Do something, anything!"
Draco stared at Hermione, taken aback by the sudden passion in her voice and the fiery expression in her golden brown orbs. Had they always been such a fascinating colour? He hadn't felt a burst of life since the day his mother was killed but now, sitting next to Hermione, he wanted to feel the way she felt. He didn't actually know what he was going to do once he landed in foreign territory. All he did know was that they spoke a language that was a thousand leagues away from English, no one knew or had ever heard of Voldemort or his family name and there were millions of people to lose yourself in. Being in the muggle world was a small price to pay for disappearing but he couldn't complain.
He'd thought Granger wouldn't want ever want to see his face, much less speak to him but then she'd gone and grabbed his hand and spoken to him. No one would've ever asked him questions like she did, prying into his private life, unafraid. But she was Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor. It was in her blood. He sort of admired that kind of bravery, he'd just decided, and found it was rather endearing. He wanted to be around her. Actually, he wanted her. Strange as it seemed, Draco was beginning to welcome - because surely he couldn't like her just yet – the girl sitting next to him and he had no clue how he felt about that. Was he even sure he could like her? It wasn't as though he'd had a lot of human interaction recently. Maybe he'd just felt marginally friendly because she wasn't already pointing a wand, ready to hex him where it hurt the most. Or it could be that she was the first friendly face he'd seen in a long while. He chose to believe the latter.
They were silent again, neither really wanting nor having to say anything. It was an almost comfortable silence were it not for the stark reminder of who they were at that present moment in time. Some hours passed between them much the same, Hermione interchanging between reading and crossword puzzles and Draco periodically staring out the window to complain about the length of the trip or the speed of the vessel. His remarks did nothing to quell Hermione's initial fears as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.
He woke up – when had he fallen asleep? – to the sound of a female voice being emitted through a speaker, dampening the heavy silence around him. He was momentarily disoriented but the seat and the standard issue airline blanket and pillow roughly stuffed behind his head brought him back to the present, however grudgingly. He was aware of a slight pressure on his left shoulder as he worked out a kink in his neck. Lifting both hands to ease the cramping, he inadvertently woke Hermione who was resting on his shoulder, but he realised his mistake too late.
She let out a soft groan, feeling the effects of sleeping in a chair, and looked about groggily. Recognition seemed to dawn on her too little, too late as she felt steely eyes burning a hole into the side of her face. Falling asleep on Draco Malfoy's shoulder was just about the worst thing she could do apart from walking up to Voldemort and asking to be killed.
"I think we'll be landing shortly. An odd voice came out of nowhere." and as if proving Draco's point, the speaker-box voice came on again, telling the passengers to prepare for landing. Hermione felt her face burn with embarrassment though she hardly knew why. If he wasn't going to mention it then why should she?
Then she felt the mind-numbing pain of her brain being compressed against her skull as they made their descent into Beijing. She was certain bits of her brain would be leaking out her ears at the end of this horrid – but it really wasn't – trip. This time, her hand accurately made contact with the cool metal of the seat and she held on for dear life as the wheels of the aircraft bumpily touched ground and a whiny noise was caused by the sudden force of wheels on pitch. Draco found that he was slightly disappointed that Granger didn't reach for his hand like the other two times but couldn't dwell on the point for too long as the sudden pressure on brain and the ringing in his ears occupied his attention. He gritted his teeth, partly in frustration and pain, willing the feeling to just leave for Merlin's sake!
Minutes later there was silence and both passengers breathed a sigh of relief. A ping alerted them and soon bags were being retrieved and a queue was being formed to exit the claustrophobic confines of the plane.
He stood behind Granger as she walked forward to the exit and oddly enough, he caught a whiff of her lavender scented hair. He liked lavender. No! That was such a sissy thing to think. Lavender? How much more queer did he want to seem? Honestly. Still, the fragrance was amazing. At least on her, he quickly amended. But then, they were being shuffled about and he'd lost sight of her in the ruckus.
Maybe it was never meant to be, he thought solemnly, making his way through customs, collecting his one bag all the while searching through the sea of foreigners for the one person he'd never thought he'd be actively looking for now. He couldn't find her. It was though she'd dropped off the face of the earth and he found it quite disconcerting that he was expending so many of his thoughts on her. She didn't mean anything to him. She couldn't have affected him in any way! So why was he acting like this now?
He'd be damned if he knew why.
He and Granger parted ways without goodbyes – did he actually expect one? - and he wouldn't ever know that across the sea of people, she was looking for him too.
A/N: So should it be a one-shot or is it lacking? I won't know unless you REVIEW! So press that green button below and tell me what you think! Thanks so much for reading.