Thanks to all who are reading and reviewing so far :) I think this is going to be much better than my others (or at least what I've written so far is)!
Draco was sat miserably inside the shadowy cave, his hands covered in Granger's blood. He could clean them, but he couldn't really be bothered. Dirty blood? It looked just the fucking same to him.
He'd rolled her into the recovery position after she fainted, at first irritated by her dramatics. Did she really have to stumble about like a lost sheep and then nearly choke on her own blood?
But then he realised he didn't know what it was like to be torn apart from your best friends. He didn't recall ever having any best friends, and certainly didn't know what it was like to miss someone. Or be missed.
Yeah, like anyone would miss him.
But he supposed he knew one person right now would be noting his absence, and the searing pain that burned into the flesh of his forearm was confirmation of the Dark Lord's anger. Traitor.
He hadn't meant to join the bloody wonder trio's side! All he'd wanted to do was give them a chance. And maybe, just maybe, give himself a chance in the process. But Granger had gone all charitable and forgiving on him and he'd had no choice. If he'd stayed he would have never been able to talk himself out of the situation with the Death Eaters. He was within their wards, they were all unharmed (and Granger was holding his stupid hand) and he hadn't summoned any of them.
It's not like he wanted to be a part of the Dark Lord's scheme. Merlin knew he didn't. But he had no choice. So why on earth would he be accepted by the other side? He'd enjoyed being a horrible little shit to them for 6 years. He certainly didn't expect acceptance.
But of course she had to ruin it all with her offers of protection. He had wavered, but was planning on getting out of there before he was found. It hadn't worked.
When Granger fainted he'd been unsure of what to do. However, he had spent a good ten minutes casting all the wards and charms he knew to protect them - including ones from books in his own private library at the manor. Unless his father scoured through every book in Draco's room, they wouldn't know how to get through them.
She was still in pyjamas and a dressing gown. Her tiny feet were bare and her hair was tied up in a bun. Draco noticed it looked considerably thinner and drier. Her face was pale and her skin looked too tight across her face, highlighted by the dark circles under her eyes. This girl wasn't well.
Taking her beaded bag from where he saw her stow it, Draco hesitated before opening it. Wasn't there some kind of code against going through girls' handbags? But he shook his head; judging by the weight of it, this bag did not contain lipstick and sanitary towels.
He took his time carefully blotting the blood off her face and her chin before siphoning off the dried-on residue with a charm. The cut had stopped bleeding by itself, so he left it be. But after she'd saved his life, he couldn't leave her outside of the cave, so he picked her up (praying to anyone that she wouldn't wake up and think he was being nice) and laid her inside.
Draco was sat as far away from her as possible, staring down at the blood on his hands. Deep down in his heart he knew that had Granger not brought him here, he would have eventually had her blood on his hands in the most fatal way. He was grateful, and she was even tolerable when asleep.
But it didn't stop him hating her guts when she woke up.
Why did she ask so many bloody questions?
"Malfoy? Is that you?"
He sighed, her voice breaking him out of his stupor. He was still staring down at his hands.
"Yes, Granger. Who the hell else would I be?"
"Well I was hoping you'd be Harry and Ron, but I can see they're not -" Hermione broke off, her voice cracking with a soft sob. She hoped to god that they were okay. She knew Harry would be able to Apparate should the situation call for it, and Ron really should have passed his exam (even with half an eyebrow missing). And somehow, she believed that she would be able to feel it inside if something had happened to them. They had a connection.
"Is that blood? Did I splinch you? Oh god, not again - I can't deal with splinching, when Ron's arm had a piece missing I nearly threw up, and it was all my fault, I'm just so terrible at Side-Along, especially when something's happening -"
"Merlin, do you ever shut up woman?" Draco cried, exasperated. "I'm not splinched. This is yours. You bust your lip."
It was still dark inside the cave, as dawn hadn't broken yet, but in the weak moonlight that managed to reach them he saw her hands fly to her mouth and prod and poke it. She hissed in pain and he scoffed. Part of him wondered about this splinching incident she was waffling on about, but he decided to leave that for now.
"Stop being an arse, Malfoy," Hermione said irritably. "I saved your life."
"Yeah, and don't expect me to be grateful!" he snapped, getting up suddenly. "I never asked you to. I never asked for your help, Granger, so don't expect me to act like Potter and grovel at your feet for the next ten years. It's not happening."
He kicked a stone at his feet, listening to the echoes of its clatters against the floor.
"Don't expect me to like you either. Because I don't. You're still a filthy Mudblood."
Ignoring her involuntary intake of breath, he stormed out and sat by the mouth of the cave. He wished he hadn't used the word Mudblood, but she really did grind his gears. Why did he have to be thankful? He wasn't the kind of person who had been grateful for what he got when he was a child. He was spoilt with as many possessions as he liked, but he was starved of the family bond he knew Granger and her Muggle parents shared, as well as the Weasleys. Potter - well, Potter was just a bloody hero, wasn't he?
He thought back to just a few years ago. Within the Slytherin common room he had been the most powerful, the most influential... And yet now here he was wearing Death Eater robes.
Drops of rain began to fall on the dry rocks, and as it got heavier Draco lifted his hands to the sky and let the blood run off.
Hermione felt as if she'd been torn in two, and the other half was with her best friends. She wanted so badly to go back, to see if they had managed to escape. But even if she went back she wouldn't know because they wouldn't be there. Part of her ached to send them a Patronus, but she didn't know if they were being watched. She knew she would have to wait for them to contact her.
She was relieved she wasn't alone, but being with Draco Malfoy was probably worse. Calling her a Mudblood was a low blow, and it hurt. Just who the hell did he think he was? She'd saved him from certain death - and most likely unthinkable torture beforehand. She'd offered him protection.
Protection! She sat up quickly. She hadn't put any of her wards up! Finding her wand tucked carefully into her pocket, she raced out of the mouth of the cave to start casting.
"I already did it," Draco drawled, soaked to the skin by rain. He'd taken his robes off, and his shirt clung to his skin.
"You - what?" Hermione hadn't realised it was raining, and she tried to shield her face from the water.
"I already put up wards. And they're better than yours. No, I'm not trying to better you, Granger, before you speak. I mean that Death Eaters don't know the counter-curses to mine."
Hermione was impressed. "Did you make them yourself?" she asked, incredulous. "It takes a great wizard to come up with successful spells. I read that one -"
"No," Draco cut in loudly, not wanting her to natter on for another thirty minutes about inventing spells. "They're from books in my private library. Now leave me alone. I came out here to get rid of your incessant talking."
Hermione felt a pang of jealousy. Oh, what she would have done for a private library...
"But surely that means your father can find them if he wanted to?" she asked curiously.
"Not unless he wants to search through ten thousand books, Granger. Seriously, will you piss off? You're giving me a headache."
Hermione was bristling with anger. He had been so rude to her ever since they'd arrived, even after the help she had given him. Just who did he think he was?
"I'm getting fed up with your attitude, Malfoy! There's no need to be so rude to me. Were you not taught any manners by your parents, or were they too busy attending to You-Know-Who?"
Immediately she knew this was a mistake. In the time it took to blink, he had pushed her back against the outer wall of the cave with his hand at her throat and his wand in her face. Hermione tried not to show her fear, putting on a defiant face and staring him straight in the eye.
"Don't you ever speak about my home life, Granger," he hissed in her face, his grey eyes sparking with anger. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to talk shit about things you don't understand? Little miss prissy."
He shook her in anger, warning sparks dancing at the tip of his wand.
"You don't scare me, Malfoy," Hermione said confidently. Or at least, that was how it was supposed to sound. It came out as more of a choked breath.
Draco realised how tightly he was holding Granger's throat and dropped his hands. That girl was going to be the death of him. Either that or he'd end up killing her, and then where would he be? He couldn't go back to his family, and Potter and the Weasel certainly wouldn't have him if he'd killed the bookworm.
Hermione massaged her throat with her hands. He'd nearly choked her to death. She had said so many times that Draco didn't have murder in him, but she might have to change her mind. He didn't have planned murder in him, but she could bet his anger might get the better of him one day. And he had mentioned her own parents... With a painful heart, she wondered if they were okay in Australia.
As Hermione relaxed and got her breath back, Draco was suddenly hit with the worst pain imaginable in his forearm. He was being summoned, and the Dark Lord was really, really pissed off. He cried out, a long, drawn-out yell, and fell to his knees, clutching his arm.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he hissed, tears stinging his eyes. This was awful, and Granger was watching. He didn't want her knowing how much the Dark Mark hurt him. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys did not show weakness.
"Malfoy, are you alright?" she asked in alarm, unsure of what to do.
"Go... Away..." he gasped, turning away from her.
That was the last straw for Hermione. He nearly suffocated her to death and yet was still a rude little snob when she offered him help? Well, fine.
He could lay out here and suffer in the downpour.