Chapter Six:
I Guess This is Goodbye
Draco blinked back the sunlight gashing his cornea. He groaned, shielding his eyes from the bright morning sun. How long had it been since he'd seen proper daylight? How long had they been trapped?
It felt like the night before was a dream, and he was just waking up. The cave around them looked nearly normal. There was only a small burst here and there of twinkling lights now. But those feelings he felt, that strange euphoria, and that sense of calm when he was touched her, was that all real? No, of course not. Get a grip, Draco.
"I can't believe it!" A chirrupy voice squealed next to ear, "We're free! Free at last!"
Draco stopped still. It came crashing down to him like a ton of bricks who owned that chirrupy voice next to him.
Not good.
Oh Merlin! He raked his hands through his hair. It was Granger! Hermione. Bloody. Jane. Granger. What the hell had happened here?
He tried to calm down. He knew what it was. It seemed his love-starved pleasure dome had taken control of his brain: it had gone ahead and fired all shred of dignity, his lovely prejudiced upbringing, and his mudblood phobia just so it could satisfy a craving for female flesh. That's what it was. He wasn't attracted to Granger at all, he had simply been lonely. Yes, that's it.
Which reminded him. If that's the case, and lest those beloved Malfoy traits be thrown to the wind again, Draco forbade himself never to get caved in with the following people on pain of death, since they repulsed him just as much as Granger: any of those Weasley urchins, Jugson, Fudge (he was too chatty with Draco), Filch, Snape, Potter, Eloise Midgen, The Dark Lord, Blaise Zabini (for reasons best kept to himself), and Daphne Greengrass's sister (she was pretty, but pushy. She'd probably want to raise a cave family as soon as possible).
So he was free, like Granger had squealed happily. He wasn't trapped in a Cave with her anymore; he didn't have to eat her conjured crusty bread and water for the rest of his life. Thank Merlin for that. He suddenly remembered his life before; he had a Dark Order meeting that Saturday, and he had to pass in a report to Yaxley in the Ministry. His entire life came crashing back to him, the expectations, and the facades. And a small part of Draco almost dreaded it. Well, good thing that it was just a very small part of him.
Suddenly aware of Granger still near him, Draco tried his best to artfully disengage himself from her presence and run. Run like hell. He'd fly from her muddy clutches if Snape or the Dark Lord had the bloody time to teach him. Draco turned his back to her, avoiding her eye, and scouring his brain for a swollen lips concealment charm.
Great. He could feel the back of his neck grow hot. She was staring at him now. Giving him one of her sanctimonious x-ray scans. "Is something wrong, Malfoy? Are you all right?"
He wondered admiringly how he had put up with her nagging voice all this time. She sounded like she was taking liberties with their relationship, like she assumed there was some understanding between after they had ... pressed lips. She was sounding way too familiar for his liking.
"DOES I LOOKS LIKE I AM BEING BLOODY ALL RIGHT?" He spat, spit hitting her in the eye. He tended to break into House-Elf like his wet-nurse Dobby when he got really upset. "I is hungry, I is dirty, and I was this close to sweeping the chimney with a repulsive owl!" He stared daggers at her angrily, as if she was the cause of all his misery.
SLAP!
A hard stinging handprint burned his cheek. He didn't want to admit it, but he needed that.
"Get a hold of yourself, Malfoy! What's wrong with you?" Hermione said forcefully.
GAH! Even her slaps were sympathetic now. This was practically scandalous for a Death Eater to associate so closely with a mudblood / traitor/ outlaw / wildebeest. Whatever would they say at work?
"Shut up, Mudblood!" He hoped he sounded businesslike and rude, but he felt he didn't quite make the mark, "There's nothing between us! I don't know you! I was desperate! I would've kissed anybody!"
He wiped his mouth roughly, "And I've probably got Scurvy now or something - whatever diseases you've caught from running around with Potter's Band of Merry Men all over Britain! Well, let me tell you something, which you can pass on to Potter," he said, leaning in for a sniff of her hair, "it's not very noble and heroic to forget to wash!"
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" Hermione shrieked, "YOU'RE SO INFURIATING!" She was standing over him, her cheeks red with fury, and she was wringing her hands. There was an orange glint shimmering in her hair, and her brown eyes were dancing -
Malfoy, Get. A. Grip. Fight it, Granger's the devil.
"All this time, you were using me?" She said furiously. "You - you were pretending you were dying, just so you could force yourself on me, so you could make a fool of me?"
"Whoa, whoa, stop right there." Draco got to his feet, "Let's get this straight. I was dying. And I was healed by - by something. And anyway, you were kissing me too. It's not like I was the only one back there enjoying myself."
He smirked at her blush.
"Oho, does the Great Draco Malfoy not know what happened?" Hermione said, her voice harsh and derisive, "the one who got off explaining everything to me, know-it-all Granger?"
Draco gasped, scandalized, as he searched her eyes. "You pretended you didn't know all that stuff, didn't you? When I was explaining about the Venom - and - and - the Horcruxes! You were trying to stroke my ego - among other things. Nice chatting up technique, Granger, playing dumb." Draco crossed his arms angrily.
"Well, it worked, didn't it? I got what I wanted." Hermione smirked evilly. She turned on her heel, and stormed past the remnants of the statue around them, and almost sprinted out of his sight.
What. An. Unbelievable. Twat.
"Fuck off, Granger!" Draco yelled to her retreating back, outlined darkly against the bright morning sun.
He made to follow her, hoping to catch her before she apparated, but then he suddenly remembered the night before.
The cave looked so different. The magic from last night wasn't completely dead, it was just ... quieter. He walked back to the statue, his steps echoing loudly. He looked at the crumbled rocks, at the traces of blood on the floor. He stopped, turning his hand over, wiping the blood on his shirt. A small glimmer of emerald and gold near his feet caught his attention. In a swift motion, he picked the Locket and the Tiara up and pocketed them.
He didn't waste time getting out. The fresh warm sea breeze blew his hair out of his eyes, and it contrasted with the icy coldness of the Cave. It was summer, after all.
Skipping nimbly over the rocky edge, he looked about for a safe place to apparate. He would never admit it, but a part of him excitedly hoped she hadn't left yet.
There was no trace of her.
She's probably having a threesome with Potter and Weasley right now. Draco thought grumpily.
"Hey, Malfoy!" Draco's head shot up as he heard her voice from behind him, "Can I ask you something?" Her voice was nervous.
He grinned, walking to her, "What? Wanted another go on the Malfoy Express?"
She made a face. "You're disgusting." She shook her head, "no, actually," she bit her lip, "you're not going to tell them, are you?"
"Listen," Draco grunted, "the less people know about this, the better. Believe you me, I'm not exactly thrilled for everyone to find out I snogged you of all people. Imagine the desperation I must've -"
"But, what about him?" She asked nervously, ignoring his insults, "Can't he use Legilimency? And Snape, isn't he advanced in it too?"
He walked very close to her, looking down deeply into her face. "You're safe, Hermione." He said seriously. "Now buzz off."
Her face softened, and it looked like she was trying to suppress a smile, "I always knew you weren't a bastard."
Draco looked murderous, "If you don't shut up about how wonderful I am and get out soon, I'm going to take out an ad in the Daily Prophet - Draco Malfoy's harrowing tale - snogging a Wildebeest and living to tell the tale."
She threw up her hands, "I'm going! I'm going! ... wanker."
Suddenly, he reached into his pocket. He pushed the Tiara into her hands.
"What's this?" She asked surprised.
"Don't wear it!" He said hastily, "You know what that is. What he's done to it. Don't tell me you forgot. We don't know if it's completely destroyed yet. You know what to do, mudblood." He said seriously, "Every last drop of the venom, if you have to. And don't forget, bring all of them back intact. Or I'm killing you. Slowly."
"What do we do now? The both of us?" She asked, looking up at him innocently.
He put his hands in his pockets, trying hard to bite back the strange rush of feeling that swept over him, "We go back. Pick up our lives where we left off," He breathed in deeply as he shrugged, "there's nothing left to do." He paused, his throat suddenly dry, "I guess this is goodbye, Granger. It's amazing we haven't killed each other."
She nodded resolutely, remembering the graver memories of the last few days. She glided her fingers across the hand-chased stones of the Tiara, smiling to herself, "so, I suppose this is something to remember you by?"
He laughed softly, despite himself.
She smiled up at him, pulling something out of her pocket. "I thought Harry might want this, but this clearly belongs to you." She held out the golden Locket in front of her, "look, it even has your name on it." She traced her hand across the S shape, "S for Soulless Villain."
He pushed it back towards her, "no, I'm quite sure this is yours. See, the S actually stands for Scurvy Politician." He smirked, putting it around her neck, since it was safe now again.
"What?" She asked, peering down at the locket, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips, "That doesn't make any sense! Why am I a scurvy politician?"
He bit his lip, "I can see you there. One day, at the Ministry." He looked up the sky, "Obviously not now. The only way you'd be allowed at the Ministry is if you came in for Muggleborn Registration, and I really wouldn't advise that, Granger, you see, Jugson there, he gives very thorough physical exams." He caught her eye, "Well, it's just I see you as some sort of legislator for the Ministry or a lawyer. Clacking down the hallways, bossily ordering people around, doing everyone's work for them. You know, swotty know-it-all Granger all grown up." He smirked grimly, "you'd do well there. Spreading your scurvy and all that. Hunting Death Eaters like me."
She playfully slapped his arm, grinning as if she'd never thought about that, "Don't tell me you've turned Seer, too? There's a lot people predicting strange things nowadays!"
He looked grimly into the sun, "That's what war does to you."
They didn't say anything more. Hermione wiped her eye roughly, and Draco looked away. The last things he remembered was her smiling down at the Locket, absentmindedly touching it before looking up, trying to catch his eye.
Draco Malfoy never did well with Goodbyes. He didn't look at her. He didn't even watch her leave. He stood aloof, kicking stones into the swirling sea below, until he heard the heavy POP! of her apparating.
With heavy feet, he sighed heavily, made to apparate on the spot she had just stood. No more crazy adventures with a slightly maniacal, somewhat attractive swot of a Gryffindor.
Draco Malfoy was going back to his world: back to Hogwarts for the Dark Order meetings, back to the Ministry for some good old fashioned espionage; back to Malfoy Manor where they housed the lower ranks of the Dark Order. Back to the drudgery of a predictable common life.
Common, that is, for one of the most despised Death Eaters that ever lived.
Next Chapter: One Year Later. In which a year later, a letter arrives for Draco Malfoy from someone he never thought he'd hear from again. Trouble is brewing, and their story is just getting started!