Chapter 3

It had been a good flight. The food was decent and the movies were romantic comedies that she hadn't seen before, which were cute if a bit superficial. It was kind of nice, just to sit down and watch a movie and be frivolous. She missed this normality...she loved Hogwarts and her friends and everything, but it could get a bit tiring sometimes, having to worry about dark wizards taking over the world and whether or not everyone whom she loved would live to see next Thursday. Looking out the window of the plane completely swept all thoughts of doom out of her mind, though...the view was breathtaking. Roads and buildings spider-webbed across the green of the valley, forming a crooked patchwork quilt of civilization. Enchanting. Her first thoughts as she stepped off of the plane and breathed in the rain-fresh air were something like, what the hell am I doing?

The unsettled feeling in her stomach increased on the taxi ride to the hotel, and was confirmed in the lobby when the receptionist assured her that, yes, Mr. Malfoy had stayed at this hotel, but he had checked out several days ago. And wasn't that just great. She should have known, should have been prepared for something like this to happen; it was Draco Malfoy she was dealing with after all, the same spoiled, inconsiderate prat who had plagued her since she was eleven. Well, she was sick of his shit. Hermione was angry.

Pick up pick up pick up.

"Hello?"

Finally. "Annette."

"Hermione! How was your flight?"

"Where is Draco right now?"

"What do you mean? Is he out in the city? You can just check in and wait for him to get back."

What a joke. As if she couldn't have figured that out herself. "Draco is not at the hotel because he checked out three days ago. Now, do you have any idea why that might be or where he might have gone?"

"What? That's impossible!"

"Apparently not."

"I just talked to him the other night and he said he was there!"

"Well, he isn't."

"That little--I can't believe he would do this!"

"Oh, I can."

"After all that we've done for him! I've been much too lenient with that boy; it's made him big-headed."

"I don't think he needed any assistance in that department." She fumed quietly for a moment. "What should I do now?"

"I'm not sure...wait, let me think about this. His cellular should have a tracking device in it; we can just check that and figure out where he is, and then I'll arrange transportation for you, alright?"

She considered telling Annette that she'd rather just come back home and that Draco could have his little crisis all by himself, but then she decided that she really did want to see him, if only to give him a piece of her mind. "Sure. Call me when you've finished."

Cambodia was nice, for being poverty-stricken and all. Well, the roads sucked. There were lots of craters that looked suspiciously as if they had been caused by explosions, which, considering the country's recent political history, they probably had.

Draco almost felt bad for leaving Nepal without telling anyone. Almost. He wondered in passing who Annette had sent to find him, and if they had figured out what had happened yet, before deciding that he didn't really care and it served them right. Speaking of Annette...he hadn't heard from her in a few days. Not that he was complaining. The silence was just kind of odd after her previous regimen of two to three phone calls an hour. He supposed he should be thankful...it was bad enough bouncing along in this beat-up passenger bus on the way to Siem Riep without being hounded by an over-strung publisher's representative with every third breath he took. He saw that they were coming to another stop, which was kind of bad because he was running out of pocket change and cough drops. Perhaps he would look for a store that sold candy so he would be able to restock.

The bus pulled to a stop next to an unruly gang of children, who immediately centered their attention on the doors. Draco knew the drill by now, and patted the bag of Hall's in his pocket before disembarking into the melee. The excited chatter engulfed him, and he cringed as he looked around at all of the tiny bodies. They were so thin.

Their speech was rapid and indecipherable, but they gestured excitedly and held out their hands. He pulled the bag out of his pocket and dispensed the cough drops among them. They fumbled with the plastic wrappers until he showed them how to pull from the sealed edge, and then laughed as they tasted the lemony flavor.

"You know, you could give them actual food." An old man in a monk's garb stood next to him; he spoke with a slight accent that Draco was unable to place.

"What's wrong with candy? Kids love candy!" If this guy was going to berate him for giving them sugar, then he wouldn't even mention that they were cough drops.

"Sure, but candy doesn't fill up hungry bellies. These children wouldn't even be here hounding you if they weren't starving; their presence is a result of the poverty of the land. If you bought real food from the local farmers, you would help the situation doubly, by actually nourishing the children and also by supporting their parents."

"Hmm, interesting theory. I'll think on that one." Screw you, old guy, no one tells Draco Malfoy what to do. But at the next stop, Draco purchased rice balls and fish instead of candy.

The hotel was surprisingly cozy. It was more of a large house with many bedrooms, but...it was functional. He dropped his trunk in his room and then decided to wash up, which turned into a 30 minute shower followed by a long nap.

It was dark when he awoke, and he stumbled to the light switch only to be blinded when the lamp came on. He tripped around in disorientation and then decided to go downstairs to find some food. The hall light was even brighter than his lamp, and he had to sit down for a minute to adjust his eyes so he wouldn't fall. When he finally made it to the foyer, the clerk informed him that a table would be ready in ten minutes, and that he could wait in the parlor if he would like. So, the parlor it was.

Hmm...Cute-looking brunette over by the window. Could be promising. "Well, hello there."

"Oh hey, Malfoy."

"Granger? What the hell are you doing here?" No, seriously! How is it that he could travel to the other side of the continent and still run into her?

"I was waiting for you. Eww, were you chatting me up? Malfoy, that's beastly."

"As if I would!"

"You didn't even use a line! Bad form."

"Come on, Granger. You and I both know that if I were chatting you up--and I wasn't, but if I had been--you would have fallen in a second."

"Not with that shoddy performance, I wouldn't have."

"What performance is needed? All I'd have to do is look at you the right way and you'd be drooling after me like the dog you are."

"Oh, please. You weren't so quick to insult a minute ago when you were chatting me up."

"I already told you--"

"Excuse me, sir?" The clerk addressed him. "The table is ready now. Follow me."

"Oh...ok. Granger, come along."

"Why don't you make me? All it will take is one look, right?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't want you to slobber all over the floor. It's uncouth."

"You could just ask me nicely."

Must she make this any more difficult? "Alright, Granger." He sighed heavily. "Will you please accompany me to dinner so that we may continue our conversation?"

"I will." Her smile made his stomach fluttery.

The clerk/waiter seated them at a table and took their orders of khao poun and sach mon chha khnhei before whisking away to the kitchen. He left behind him an awkward silence as boy stared at girl, who seemed to be fascinated by the rapid chatter of Italian tourists at a neighboring table.

Draco was kind of insulted by the fact that she apparently found speech that she couldn't understand to be more interesting than him, until she turned back and explained that she had been learning Italian last summer and thought it was a beautiful language. So, that was slightly less insulting. But still.

They lapsed into silence again as she stared dreamily away while Draco tried to recover from the shock of her presence, which had only just set in. Why had she come? He realized that he was wasting time, and he coughed discreetly in an unsuccessful attempt to gain her attention. This attempt was followed by another and another, each increasingly less subtle and more like laryngitis, until she jumped at his final hacking cough and inquired after his health. Which was not the issue at the moment.

"I'm fine, Granger. So, let's get down to business."

"To defeat...the Huns!"

"What?" He knew his jaw had to be hanging open.

"Oh, nothing. Just this song from a muggle film."

"Right. Granger, this is why the Dark Lord is trying to exterminate you lot."

"That's ridiculous! Voldemort does not hate muggleborns because of Mulan!"

"How do you know? Maybe this whole time he's felt left out of all of your little inside jokes and film-thingies." Because he sure does.

"Malfoy, come on." She was still skeptical.

"Which one of us has presumably had more experience with the reasoning behind hating muggles?"

"Well..."

"I'm kidding. He just thinks you're rancid filth. Anyhow, let's get on with it. Why are you here?"

"Annette asked me to come and talk to you."

"Why not over the phone, like that other lot? Surely it would have been much less expensive."

She laughed. "I have a feeling that this is petty cash in comparison to the royalties that Rowling will be getting from the seventh book alone. Anyway, phone calls were obviously ineffective."

"Obviously. So now they've had the bright idea to send you, since we're just best mates and surely you can bring me back, right?"

"Look, I'm not too chuffed to be here; don't think that I'm basking in the glow of your sneer."

"You think my sneer is glowing? I must say I'm flattered, Granger, if a bit disgusted."

"Oh sorry, did I say sneer? I meant the glare from your hair gel."

She was obviously having an off day. "Weak."

She blushed. "Look, so...why did you leave?"

"Merlin, how many times do I have to go over this? I'm sick of having my life planned out for me! I don't want to be a pawn in the convoluted plot of some stupid children's story!"

"What? That's absurd."

"All of this is a joke, you know! My life, your life, our world, all a sham. Not a very well-written one, either, from a literary perspective."

"It's really not so bad, Malfoy! I mean, we're one of the top sellers. We've created controversy and intrigue, and you especially have a huge fan base!"

"That's easy for you to say, Granger. I don't see your character dying off any time soon, or being made to look like a fool and a coward."

"Well, I have been in a lot of tight spaces, you know. My life has been in danger many times."

"Yeah, but she'd never let you die. She has to keep the female characters around. There aren't very many and that brick Weasley needs a love interest. It's not like there's anyone else who would have him."

"Ron and I--you--augh! Why do you have to be such an arse, Malfoy? Do you think it's easy to get on with your life when you have a great hulking pointy-faced git following you about all of the time, treating you like a sub-human? Because it's not! You're not an easy person to get on with; you're mean and hateful and rude and I'm sick of it! Besides, there's more to me than just a potential love interest for every male in the whole sodding story. Do you know how thin it spreads me and Ginny, being the only young and likeable female characters in a testosterone-driven world?"

"Yeah, I'll bet you have to spread pretty wide."

"That is just what I'm talking about! Does it make you that chuffed to make other's lives miserable? Are you that much of a sadist?"

"It's not like I chose to be this way, Granger! I didn't write myself! I didn't ask to have psycho parents that won't leave me be and are devout followers of some insane genocidal freak! Don't you get it? None of this is real! We aren't real; we haven't done any of this for ourselves! We are essentially puppets, enacting the shoddy plots of some two-bit author who just wanted to pay the rent!"

"Right, blame it on someone else. It's anyone's fault but your own."

"How could it be my fault? I didn't choose this!"

"Not everything is about choice, Malfoy! None of us pick our families or our backgrounds. It's what you do with them that matters; you have to take responsibility."

A man at a neighboring table interjected. "Excuse me, but she has a point. In terms of existentialism, you create yourself through your actions, so you choose who you become."

"Not you again!"

It was the monk from the village. "Yes, me again."

"Hey, why are you talking about existentialism if you're Buddhist?"

"Well, it does have its merits. Also, I'm French. There has been a big existentialist movement in France in the last century, so it's something I grew up with."

"Fascinating." Yawn.

"If you're interested, you should look into it. I have a book I could give you. Perhaps it would assist you in your quest for truth."

"Thank you, that would be wonderful!"

Trust Granger to get excited about a stupid book. "But, give? It must be special to you. We couldn't possibly accept it."

"Nonsense. Detachment in all things, young sir."

Dammit. Existentialism it was, then.

a/n: Finally done with this chapter! It took me forever to figure out where I'm going with this. It's clearer now, though, so I should be posting more often. Hopefully. Oh, and Draco's disdainful attitude towards Rowling's literary prowess (or lack thereof, in this case) does not reflect my own views; all literary criticism aside, she tells a damn good story, as evidenced by the sales of her books. So, that's that. Hope you liked the chapter, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!