Chapter Six
The tangled scenery whisked past Hermione behind a smudged train window. She felt a smidge of melancholy twist her gut as she watched all the familiar sights fly by her. Hermione felt trapped next this alien man with silver eyes and platinum blonde hair, who sat stoically beside her. The two of them hadn't even attempted to hold a conversation. Hermione was too afraid of what she would unearth behind his composure – she couldn't forget the look he had given her when she had had her wand at his throat and berated him for who he was. His gaze cut to her core and made her feel infinitely small at the same time, like she had only seen a fraction of what he had been through – what haunted him. Hermione pressed her cheek against the cool glass and sighed. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen her fair share of things during the war and that fateful battle at Hogwarts during her seventh year. She still had nightmares where a green jet of light hit Harry straight in the chest. Hermione's throat constricted and she felt an invisible weight crush her chest. She took a ragged breath and willed herself not to cry. She had already cried in front of Malfoy once – there was no way she would try for twice. She closed her eyes and thought of simpler times so it would be easier to fall asleep.
Draco absently sketched random doodles in the pad on his lap. Several pairs of eyes stared back at him, as well as sinister tree branches interwoven in between the irises, through mouths and nostrils. His hand paused momentarily as he saw is eerie handiwork. It looked vaguely familiar, but try as he might, he couldn't remember where he saw it. Sighing, he dragged his pen across the paper, poking inky holes through the thin material. Frustration enveloped him as he crumpled the piece of paper in his large hands. It seemed that the only thing he was these days was inadequate. Hermione had made it perfectly clear that she deemed him inadequate for this mission, his own misgivings about that mission made him feel inadequate, and Blaise's difficult line of questioning sure as hell made him feel inadequate. His life seemed to be made up of only difficult choices and questions he couldn't answer. As if the pressures of keeping up his double life weren't enough, his mother had decided that Draco should uphold the prestige of the Malfoy name and attend the random parties the upper elite of the Wizarding world enjoyed. Draco had managed to stall his attendance two weeks after his mission was over – he detested these gatherings. What would a man in his mid-twenties have to say to men in who were experiencing mid-life crisis or their sunset years? Draco glanced over at Granger and found that she was out cold. He smirked to himself and wondered how she managed to fall asleep so fast. Her face was so peaceful when she was sleeping; the contrast between a conscious Granger and an unconscious one was too obvious. Draco rubbed his left forearm absently and the Mark prickled malevolently under his long-sleeved black sweater. He would have to get in Granger's confidences somehow, and he doubted that a good old dose of "Malfoy charm" would be sufficient.
oOoOoOo
"Malfoy. Malfoy, you have to get up," Hermione prodded the sleeping man beside her, rubbing the sleep out of her own eyes. Their surroundings were almost pitch black outside the train and Hermione tried to inconspicuously wake up her sleeping foot. She jiggled it under the seat in front of her. The witch in front of her turned around and gave her a dirty look. Hermione muttered an apology under breath and then lightly socked Malfoy on the shoulder. "MALFOY!" She hissed. How was he sleeping how heavily? She only had gotten a couple hours of sleep because of the unpleasant lurches that punctuated the train ride. She felt her foot waking up and the unpleasant prickling feeling that shot up her nerves made her more irritated with the wizard next to her.
"Merlin, Granger, is it impossible for you to let people sleep?" Malfoy's voice was husky as he awoke and rubbed his eyes blearily. He immediately straightened up in his seat as he got his bearings, rubbing a large hand at the back of his head, scuffing up his already messy hair even more. Sighing he asked, "So, Leenhoff gave you the instructions, yes?"
Hermione lowered her voice, "Yes, I know what to do."
"Don't you always," Draco drawled, cracking his neck as he rotated his head in a circle. He summoned his pack and rested it on his shoulder before smirking sardonically at Hermione. "Shall we?" He gestured for her to go in front of him with mock formality and Hermione rolled her eyes at him. She got up and hobbled because of her foot that had, amazingly, fallen back asleep. Her face burned as she caught him biting his lip to keep from laughing. Her fingers itched for her wand – he could use a good dose of a Bat-Bogey Hex. Hermione adjusted her pack and walked quickly off the bus, painfully aware that she had to spend the next few weeks with a wizard that rubbed her the wrong way every time he got the chance.
The pair of them walked off the bus, engulfed by the darkness outside. They looked like shadowy ghosts against the backdrop. Hermione and Malfoy walked in silence through the forest for what seemed like hours but could only have been a few minutes. Hermione strode forward with blazing purpose and Draco glanced down at her, bemused. Her face was hard and determined and he noticed that she was so focused that he was surprised that she didn't spontaneously combust from her concentration. Hermione stopped abruptly and in front of a small wooden square on the forest floor. Draco cocked his head at her curiously as she took at her wand from her pocket. Her hand shook slightly as she pointed her wand at the block of wood on the floor. The wand vibrated in her grip and a white light started to form at the tip of her wand. The light shot up each side of the wand so that the whole thing was an illuminated, shaking blur. The light poured out off the wand and onto the wooden square and flowed over the square. The ground rumbled under Draco and his eyes snapped up at Hermione who looked unperturbed. The wood began shifting and molding into a new form as Draco watched with wide eyes. The trembling wood finally straightened out into an imposing house. He glanced at Hermione who seemed satisfied with her handiwork.
"If you don't mind me asking, Granger, what the bloody hell was that?" Draco asked, keeping his voice devoid from any emotion.
"That is where we're going to be living for the next week weeks," Hermione replied, opening the door. She brushed the hair from her face and opened the door with a casual flick of her hand. "Mr. Leenhoff had set this up for us. The wood was just supposed to turn into a house, but I added a few more precautions of my own. We have protection from literally anybody who enters the forest – Muggles won't be able to see the house, maybe even a few wizards or witches; the house is undamaged by minor spell, but I don't know how it will fare against an attack. There's also more than enough food to last us our mission."
"You do really know everything," Draco muttered grudgingly. Hermione smirked at him and disappeared into the house. Sighing, Draco walked in after her. The house was homely and comfortable. It seemed like a home that Hermione would like. He wandered around the house for a while, breathing in the scent of the wood and the light breeze coming through an opened window. It seemed surreal. If someone had told him that he would be on a mission and rooming with Hermione Granger in the middle of the woods, he would have said they had had too much Firewhisky. Yet, here he was. Draco ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, dropping his pack on the floor next to a sofa. He slowly sat down and stretched across it and kicked his shoes off. He closed his eyes and rested his head on this palms of his hands.
"Did you see your room? I didn't know if – oh," Hermione walked into the living room and stopped short at the sight of a reclining Draco Malfoy on the couch.
"My room?" Draco replied confusedly, straightening up. "I only saw yours…"
"It's right next to mine, I don't know how you missed it," Hermione replied exasperatedly. Draco rolled his eyes and got up. The tight muscles in his back screamed in protest.
"Lead the way, Granger," he said in a bored voice, picking up his pack. Hermione's eyes tightened, as though she suddenly remembered who she was standing in the room with.
"Of course," she replied. The two of them walked down a dim corridor and Hermione opened a plain wooden door for him. "Here's your room. My room's the next one over, after the joint bathroom."
Draco wrinkled his nose. "We have a joint bathroom?"
Hermione's mouth mashed into a straight line. "Well if it's too inconvenient for you to share a bathroom with a Muggle-born –."
"Granger, would you please stop jumping down my throat every few minutes? The living arrangement is hard enough because you're you and I'm me. So don't simply chalk this up to the fact that you're a Mud – Muggle-born. I've had a very long, very tiring past few days and as much as I would love to stand here and bicker all night about a joint bathroom, I'm going to bed because I'm exhausted," Draco finished, his steel eyes glinting peculiarly in the dim light. He slammed the door angrily behind him, leaving Hermione standing outside, wondering what exactly she had gotten into.