Author's Note:

Sorry about the long wait to update; I have no excuse. Sorry!

Disclaimer: JKR owns all characters in this story. This story is not for profit.

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Chapter 3

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Gavagan's Guide to Gastronomy stated in chapter five, entitled "Preserving and Pickling," that one could make jam out of virtually anything as long as one added enough sugar. Hermione Granger wasn't sure how much sugar was needed to make Draco Malfoy appealing, but she wanted nothing less than to mash him up and spread him across the morning toast.

It was a week since her conversation with the Weasley parents, and nothing particularly monumental had taken place. She hadn't told Harry or Ron about her decision, although everyone was quite familiar with the fact that Malfoy was not coming to infiltrate the Order under command from the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, this meant that he was testing the waters of the living situation at Godric's Hollow. It was regrettable that he couldn't test the waters without being such a bloody prick.

Ginny was staring at a bit of leftover sausage on her plate, trying not to return Harry's gaze, which had been aimed in her direction for the better part of half an hour. Ron was watching the pair's expressions with mild interest. Hermione rolled her eyes and took another bite of toast. Malfoy preferred to take his breakfast in bed, which was both annoying as well as a blessing for everyone in the house.

It was funny how everything had so quickly fallen into a different, but equally predictable routine as her earlier summer. About half an hour after everyone finished breakfast, Malfoy would make his grand entrance down the staircase and over to the fire. He would haggle Harry, Ron, or Hermione for about another half-hour, then sit down in an armchair and pore over the Daily Prophet.

When he wasn't complaining about Ginny and Ron playing exploding snap or the living arrangements in Harry's house, giving Hermione "beauty tips" or sulking in a corner, Hermione noticed he did quite a bit of reading. In fact, he was already a few chapters ahead of her in her Advanced Charms textbook. She wondered if he did this just to provoke her. The worst part was that it worked.

The creak of the top stair, which Malfoy might have fancied to be a fanfare, acted as a warning for all those sitting in the living room. "Oh no," Ginny groaned, "here he comes."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her back towards the staircase. Even so, she could hear the dull thud of black dragonhide shoes on the worn floorboards approaching her. A platinum ring clacked on the back of her chair as Malfoy drummed his fingers on it and the headache-inducing scent of cologne reached her nose. "Well, Granger, I must admit your hair is looking particularly discordian today. Sure you aren't descended from Eris?"

Ginny scowled at Malfoy and Ron clenched his fist. Hermione turned around in her chair. "Can it, Hades." she retorted.

"Oh, touchy. Just so you know, we're to meet about our future living arrangements today." He gave Hermione a particularly wicked smirk and went to grab the Daily Prophet from the kitchen.

"What was that about, 'Mione?" Ron asked.

"Not sure, Ron." Hermione almost lied. "Want me to take your dishes? I'm finished." Hermione took the empty plates and carried them back to the kitchen, where Malfoy sat reading with Shacklebolt and Lupin.

Remus looked up from his copy of the Prophet. "Hermione, we're having a meeting today and we need you to attend."

"I know, Malfoy already told me. Have you decided on a date then?"

He nodded. "Yes, we'll discuss everything tonight."

Hermione glanced at Draco, who appeared to be engrossed in his newspaper. Did he even care about what was about to happen? He hadn't mentioned it before. Hermione wasn't even sure up until that point that he knew. She left the room and went to continue reading Advanced Charms.

.oOo.

A few slate-gray clouds trudged across the sky like pack mules until they fairly covered the sun. The living room of Godric's Hollow was momentarily submerged in shadow. Hermione reached behind her to fix the loose bun of hair that was slowly dropping wisps of curls to frame her face.

Truth be told, she wasn't paying attention to her reading at all. The more she dwelled on it, the more uncomfortable she felt with the whole state of affairs.

From her position in an armchair near one of the lead glass windows, she could see Malfoy pacing around in the back yard with his hands in his pockets. His hair fell in front of his eyes, and she noticed that it looked dull in the shadow. It looked like Snape. A sort of pale sickness stirred her lungs and for a moment she forgot how to inhale. It was frightening and quiet.

How was it that she found herself in this situation? She pulled the book's ribbon taut into the crease of the page she had previously been examining and closed it. Hermione was not a fatalistic person. In her opinion, that kind of melodrama was better left to women such as Sibyll Trelawney. Hermione believed in magic, and the magic of will. Often at times like this, however, she imagined she was attached to marionette strings and some higher deity was having quite a good laugh at her.

No one would be laughing when she knew she had to break the news to Harry and Ron. If she left it up to someone else, they would only take it worse. Hermione loved her friends dearly. There was no equivalent in all the world, wizarding or otherwise. And now she was about to descend into the darkest dungeon without them.

Hermione wondered about the shelter she and Malfoy would be occupying. When were they leaving? Would magic be allowed? Would there be running water? How would they eat? Hermione had no doubt that she could adapt to wherever they were sent, but she wasn't so sure about her housemate. And she wasn't so sure that she was safer with him.

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

Hermione looked up at the slightly grinning face of Harry Potter and felt something inside her break. Perhaps it was her heart. She set her Charms text onto the end table beside her and shifted in the armchair, sighing heavily. "No, Harry, I'm just a bit tired. Woke up too early this morning." It was a half-lie; she had woken up and laid in bed for a long while, eventually falling back asleep.

"Well take care of yourself, I have a feeling we'll be in for a lot more before we're finished."

Hermione frowned. Was he talking about Malfoy, or something entirely larger? She decided it was both. "I know that." Harry smiled.

"Harry," she said after a brief pause, "you do know that Ron and I will support you no matter where we are, even if we're not by your side?"

"Hermione, how long have we known each other?" She smiled.

It was enough.

.oOo.

Hermione knew it was time when the plaster walls of the house took on the dusty violet hue of evening and aurors began to file into Harry's den. Small chairs had been summoned in rows, sort of like a classroom. Hermione took a seat bordering on the center aisle, near the front. Absently she noticed that Tonks sat down directly behind her. Lupin quickly took the seat beside the metamorphmagus.

Then came auror after auror, primarily male and all sporting a minimum of three scars. A somber Arthur Weasley took his place in the front row. Hermione felt a soft hand on her shoulder and turned to see Tonks giving her a supporting grin. "You'll be fine, Hermione."

She idly looked down and realized that her knuckles were white from clutching the seat of her chair. All of a sudden it hit her, like a particularly cold winter wind, that the males in the room greatly outweighed the females. It must be hard, she realized, to be a female auror in a unit of men. She remembered certain times in the distant past when Harry and Ron had questioned both her physical, mental, and moral strength. She admired Tonks, and smiled softly back.

Hermione realized she had not yet seen Malfoy and turned a little more in her seat. She immediately spotted his blonde hair shining in the candlelight, in the farthest corner of the back row. His arms were crossed and his eyes closed as if he had fallen asleep, though she could tell his face was tense and his jaw was clenched shut. He appeared to feel her gaze on him and looked up, staring unabashedly at her and through her. Hermione reddened and quickly turned back to the front of the room. She could swear the git was smirking at the back of her head.

Her train of thought was presently interrupted when Arthur Weasley stood and faced the congregation of Order members. He cleared his throat as the dull hum of voices and coughs faded. "This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, August twenty-eight, nineteen ninety-seven, will now come to order..."

Hermione could feel eyes on her again, and it was unnerving. She slumped a little in her chair, hoping to hide behind the other bodies. It was warm in here with so many people, and the candles bathed the room in a sweet, golden glow. The feeling of safety eventually won out over her feeling of discomfort at being watched, and she struggled to keep her eyes from fluttering closed.

It was warm in the room.

It was warm and thick and ran like sap into his veins, throbbing with something that, if he were someone different, could have identified as nervousness or anxiety. It was false hope and the sweetness of grapes held just out of his reach. Like Tantalus. It was everything and too many bodies and he resigned himself to the fact that he had simply over-exerted himself. And he was bored.

Granger didn't appear to be listening to the meeting; her eyes closed again, almost synchronizing to the slight rise and fall of her chest. Her lips were slightly parted and her hair was slowly falling free of its tie. She looked so different.

Draco couldn't admit to himself that he found her particularly attractive, and certainly wouldn't even if he did. But there was something about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on, something that had changed over the course of the summer. Or maybe it was earlier. She didn't glower nearly as much when he was around her, unless he held her attention. He noticed her smiling and laughing more often than ever. Maybe it was because they were forced into such close proximity that he actually spent time around her.

And now here he was going into hiding with Hermione Granger alone.

Oddly enough, his mind came to rest on his mother. If Lucius Malfoy was ruthless, then Narcissa was desperate. She survived out of desperation for those she loved. Not many people noticed it, that silent sort of love that fell over his family like a frost. It wasn't shown with smiles.

And Narcissa had always been the source, bridging the gap between right and wrong and back again if it gave them protection. If left up to their own devices, Lucius and Draco might have slit each other's throats long ago. But now those days were over, and Draco was heading hopelessly into uncharted waters.

Sure, he had been with girls. Loads of them. But living with one was an entirely different matter, especially when she was a mudblood with a particularly strong dislike to him. He briefly remembered the stinging of his cheek after she slapped him that first time years ago. Oh, this would be lovely.

Draco supposed he probably should have tried to repair the burned bridges between them when he learned of their situation. It was easier said than done. Every moment she was either laughing with friends or studying. He decided approaching her in the former situation was social suicide, and physical in the latter; he was inclined to believe she would bite his head off. And anyway, he didn't really want to talk to her once he thought about it.

The problem was, Draco wasn't really sure what he did want to do anymore. He wanted to prove something. He just didn't know what that was yet.

The elder Weasley's voice acknowledged the auror who had just spoken, and read off the next item on the list. "...we will now discuss the matter of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy's concealment."

Hermione's head snapped up at once. Later she would recall that although she felt alert, the experience still felt like a dream:

...informant has described recent developments in the Dark Lord's plans...

They will be portkeyed to a safe house in an undisclosed location...

...will have stores of food and fresh water...

...and will they be allowed the use of magic?

We have set the date for a week from Friday...

It took Hermione a moment to register. Tomorrow was Friday. She turned and saw Malfoy staring at her. Eight days was all she had. Eight days to spend with Harry and Ron and Ginny before the earth cracked open and she disappeared underground.