Hermione trudged on through the mud, her skirts getting heavier and heavier, and yet there was still no sign of Austen Manor in sight. Just as she was about to give up all hope, lay down and let the wild dogs finish her off, she heard what sounded like a roll of thunder getting louder and louder by the second. She looked up just in time to see a horse and its rider barreling toward her with no appearance of stopping. She let out a piercing scream, and the rider, finally noticing her, pulled hard on the reins. The horse reared up and when it came back down, it landed in a rather large puddle right in front of her, soaking her in muddy water from head to toe.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing riding your horse in such a reckless manner?" Hermione shouted angrily. "Are you insane?"
"Well, I was thinking about rescuing you," replied the rider indignantly, "but now I'm rethinking the matter. Seeing as you're being so ungrateful about it."
"Ungrateful!" huffed Hermione. "You almost killed me!"
"I almost killed you? You're the one standing in the middle of the road. Didn't your parents ever teach you that was dangerous, not to mention stupid?"
"Are you calling me stupid?" Hermione asked in disbelief, completely outraged at the thought. "You're the one who was riding too fast and wasn't watching where you were going. That kind of irresponsibility and selfish disregard for the safety of others is what's stupid."
"I don't know what you're so angry about. I stopped in time, didn't I? Lucky for you I have fast reflexes. So, do you want me to rescue you or not?"
"You drenched me in muddy water and almost killed me. I don't need your kind of rescuing. And I'm not some damsel in distress that needs that type of thing anyway. I can take care of myself, you male chauvinist–"
The man chuckled and jumped down from his horse, landing in front of her. "Feisty as always, I see."
Hermione wiped the mud from her face and looked up into familiar gray eyes. "Malfoy?" she said in surprise, momentarily forgetting her anger.
"At your service," he said, bowing mockingly.
In shock, Hermione noticed his Regency attire. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting wet," Draco replied morosely, pushing his drippy bangs away from his eyes.
"No, I mean, what are you doing at Austen Manor?"
"I unfortunately live here."
It suddenly dawned on her. "Lady Catherine is your mother. I knew she looked familiar. I'm going to kill Ginny."
"Come on," he said, holding out a hand to help her on the horse. "I'll give you a ride back to the house."
Hermione looked at the horse warily. "I'd rather walk. Just tell me which way to the house."
"It's a mile to the house," said Draco exasperatedly.
"I am an excellent walker," said Hermione stubbornly.
"I have no doubt. You seem to excel at everything," he said sarcastically. "But perhaps you haven't noticed that it's pouring rain. You'll catch your death. And I do mean death. Mother is very strict on historical accuracy. I can assure you the blood-letting and leeches are not a pretty sight."
Hermione let out a sigh. "I can't. There is no way that I can get on a horse in this dress," she admitted. "I can barely breathe."
"Are you a witch, or aren't you? Just you use your wand."
"Magic isn't allowed," said Hermione guardedly, not trusting that Draco wouldn't tell his mother and get her kicked out. She had spent a lot of money on this stupid holiday, and she was sticking it out if it killed her. And she was beginning to think it might.
Draco's eyebrow arched. "Since when do you ever bother with the rules?"
Hermione didn't answer but stood there looking stubborn.
"My hair is getting ruined," Draco complained.
"Why don't you use your wand?" asked Hermione pointedly.
"Mother took it away," Draco grumbled. "She didn't trust me not to do magic."
"You've been living like a Muggle all of this time?" gasped Hermione.
"Even worse. A Regency Muggle. Now, are you going to get on this horse, or aren't you?"
"I told you I can't," Hermione persisted.
Draco sighed warily. "Are you sure you can't use your wand?" he asked again with a slight note of pleading in his voice. When Hermione still refused, he reached forward and grabbed a hold of the front of her dress.
"What are you–" began Hermione, trying to pull free of him.
"This is probably going to hurt me more than it is you," he said as consolingly as possible. And with that, he ripped the entire front of her dress open.
"You ripped my dress!" exclaimed Hermione in shock.
"Isn't that what they always do in these types of scenarios?" he said in a roguish manner.
"Jane Austen did not write bodice rippers. She wrote intelligent..."
Hermione was about to give an impassioned speech on Jane Austen's works but lost her train of thought when Malfoy suddenly began feeling her up. She was so completely caught off guard that she just stood there while he rooted around in her bodice. After a fair amount of fondling, he finally found what he was looking for: a rigid, wooden busk, and removed it from her corset. Had it not felt so good to be rid of that hindrance, she would have slapped him in the face.
"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked with a smirk.
Seeing the annoying smirk on his face, Hermione changed her mind and slapped him full in the face.
"Yeah," said Draco, rubbing his cheek. "That's what I thought." Cracking his knuckles, he said, "Hard way it is."
He forcibly picked her up with her kicking and screaming and threw her over his shoulder. She put up a good fight, but he held on tight.
"What are you doing! Put me down this instant!" demanded Hermione, pounding her fists against his back.
"Would you stop beating the crap out of me!" exclaimed Draco, still wrestling with her. "I just want to put you on my horse, so we can get back to the house."
"I am not getting on that horse," said Hermione emphatically.
"Don't tell me you're scared of horse riding like you are flying?" said Draco exasperatedly, letting go of her.
Hermione fidgeted with her torn dress, trying to cover herself up and not expose anything. "I am not scared of horse riding. Or flying. I'm just not dressed properly, is all."
"Are you kidding me?" asked Draco incredulously. "What? Do you think my mother is going to take off points because you're not wearing the proper riding attire?"
"No," said Hermione, getting annoyed. "That is not the reason. I only meant that I am not dressed appropriately to straddle a horse and as you do not have a side saddle, I would prefer to walk."
"It is frigging pouring rain right now. You are not walking. Just rip your skirt so you can straddle the damn horse."
"No."
"What is your problem? It's not like it's not already ruined. Rip it, or I'll do it for you," said Draco, coming toward her determinedly.
"You touch me again, and I will kill you."
"And how exactly are you going to do that if you won't use your wand?" said Draco in a bored tone.
"With my mad ninja skills," said Hermione, striking a pose. "I took a defense class two summers ago. I could kill you with my bare hands."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Get on the damn horse."
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm herself from the panic that was starting to rise up inside of her. "Okay. I'm going to be honest with you. But I swear, if you laugh, I will kill you. The reason I can't straddle the horse is because... blah blah blah blah blah," she said, mumbling something completely unintelligible.
"What?"
"I'm not blah blah blah," Hermione mumbled again.
"I'm sorry. I'm not fluent in troll. Come again?"
"I said, I'm not wearing any knickers!"
"Oh," said Draco, her predicament suddenly dawning on him. His lips curved up involuntarily.
"Are you smiling?" she snapped.
"No?"
Hermione let out an indignant huff. "Turn around," she ordered.
"Why?"
"So, I can get on the damn horse!"
With an exasperated sigh, Draco obediently turned around. However, after hearing a distinct ripping sound and then the rustling of the horse, he couldn't help sneaking a peek. He discreetly turned his head ever so slightly just in time to see Hermione hitch up her stocking-clad leg and slide her mud covered shoe into the stirrup. The tear in her dress went up high enough to reveal her bare thigh, and Draco watched completely transfixed as she swung her other leg over the horse to straddle it, revealing a rather interesting and intimate turn of events. Draco may or may not have made some kind of guttural sound in his throat.
"Are you looking!"
"No," said Draco quickly, snapping his head back around.
"You are no gentleman," Hermione snapped, quickly adjusting her skirts to cover herself as best she could.
Draco smirked at her. "I have a feeling you're no lady either."
Hermione smirked back at him. "You got that right," she said, taking hold of the reins and nudging the horse forward into a fast trot, leaving Draco standing there cursing in the rain.
Only a few minutes later though, she trotted back.
"I knew you'd come back for me," he claimed, awkwardly hauling himself up on the back of the horse before she changed her mind. "You're too much of a goody-two-shoes not to."
Hermione sniffed haughtily. "For your information, the only reason I came back was because there was a fork in the road and I didn't know which path to choose."
"I would have thought a Gryffindor like you would have chosen the path less traveled," quipped Draco.
Hermione was glad that her back was to him, so that he couldn't see the surprise on her face at his knowing a Muggle poem. "You don't know anything about me. But even if I would have, I couldn't tell which path was the one less traveled anyway because it's bloody raining."
"Speaking of this bloody rain, hand over the reins so we can get the hell out of here."
"Why should you get to hold the reins?" Hermione argued.
"Because I know the way to the house."
"You could tell me where to go."
"Believe me, I would love to tell you where to go," Draco cracked. "But all I want to do is get home and have a nice brandy by the fire. So, hand them over."
With a loud huff, Hermione angrily handed over the reins.
"Can you scooch forward a bit?"
"No and quit grinding into me."
"I'm not grinding. I'm adjusting."
"Well, quit it."
After a moment's pause, Draco couldn't help himself. "Comfortable?"
"No," Hermione practically growled.
"I'm a bit stiff myself," joked Draco.
Hermione didn't even dignify that with a reply. They rode the rest of the way in silence. By the time they made it to Austen Manor, the rain had stopped, but the stormy atmosphere between them remained. Lavender and Narcissa, along with two very handsome gentlemen dress in red uniforms, were waiting for them in the drive. Draco slid off the horse and held out a hand for Hermione. She immediately slapped it away and very ungracefully dismounted, flashing the entire party in the process.
"What ghastly thing happened to you?" Lavender gasped, shocked at the sight of her. "Were you accosted by highwaymen? Were they cute?"
"Disgraceful," tutted Narcissa, looking Hermione up and down. "Proper young ladies do not get themselves in such compromising situations. There are consequences to such improprieties."
"What are you going to make me do?" asked Hermione brazenly. "Marry him?"
Narcissa pursed her lips together. "I think not. While the other ladies are practicing their embroidery tomorrow, you can spend your time mending your dress and thinking about your shocking behavior." Turning her back on Hermione, she addressed Draco. "Where is your pride, Darcy? Cavorting about unchaperoned with a girl who is not your equal. And an impertinent one at that. Thankfully the other ladies in the party haven't arrived yet to witness such scandalous behavior. Go change for dinner. You seem to have sullied yourself."
"He's supposed to be Darcy?" said Hermione, looking at Draco in disgust. "Is it too late to get my money back?"
"No refunds," called Narcissa over her shoulder, already halfway to the house.