A/N: I've got no excuses, this chapter was just annoying to write, so I kept putting it off. And it's even a fairly short chapter!
My baaad.
But stuff happens. That's progress, right?
Disclaimer: Still owning nothing.
Apologies for spelling/grammatical errors. Lack of spell check.
He woke up to the screams.
Draco's eyes shot open and he instinctively jumped up from his seat and drew his wand. He shook his head to clear it, eyes searching around the room for the danger. His vision found her thrashing around on her cot, and it took him a moment to realize she was having a nightmare.
Draco rushed over and knelt beside Hermione's cot, hands fluttering uselessly beside her - he knew never to wake a sleepwalker, but did this count? Her face was flushed and sweating, the shine of tear tracks cutting through the dirt on her face. And she kept screaming; screams so raw and heartbreaking, Draco needed them to stop else his stomach would knot.
He shook her shoulder gently, "Hermione. Hermione, wake up."
She threw her head back and let out another wail, her arms splaying out around her sides. Draco shook her arm, desparation seeping into his voice, "Granger, c'mon, wake up. You're just dreaming, it isn't real." She let out a low whimper, rolling onto her side away from him. Her arms lowered and breathing began to even out. Draco exhaled in relief, leaving his hand resting on her arm. "That's right, it's not real."
He watched as she continued to calm down, relief seeping through his own veins and an odd sense of comfort overtaking him. Once more, he whispered quietly to her,
"Come on, Hermione. Wake up."
Her breath came in long, shallow inhales and her eyes, which had been moving frantically under her closed lids, went still. Thin pillows and sheets ruffled as she shifted her position, altering the angle her body was in. After a moment she turned, rolling so she faced Draco. Her eyes opened slowly, brown irises meeting blue-grey. They stayed like that a moment, just watching each other, until Hermione said quietly,
"What's happened?"
Draco hesitated, "You were having a nightmare."
Her eyes went hazy and she seemed to remember. She averted her gaze, ducking her head as a pink blush coloured her cheeks. Draco watched curiously until he realized his hand was still holding her upper arm.
Something dark on her forearm caught his attention. He let his hand slide down until it lightly gripped her wrist, and flipped her arm over to see the flat of the side. His eyes widened involuntarily and he hissed in horror.
Hermione instantly yanked her arm away, holding it tight to her chest, but Draco had seen enough to know what it was. Bellatrix had left her mark, loud and clear. A dark, slowly helaing scar covered the length of her pale arm, etched out in deep cuts. The skin was curled and red, looking almost fresh. The cuts spelt out clearly what Bellatrix thought of Hermione, of what he should think of her. But didn't.
He didn't think he would be able to say 'Mudblood' anymore.
Draco glanced down and was surprised to see his hands curled into fists, shaking. His whole body was vibrating with supressed rage. If he looked in a mirror, he was certain he would find his eyes to be burning. He pulled his head away, ashamed.
A small hand reached out and took his own, easing it out of a fist. Draco looked up, meeting Hermione's eyes. Her expression made him want to cry, and he very nearly did. It was everything he needed, but nothing he deserved. He whispered slowly,
"I'm sorry."
She gave a small smile. "I know."
She had looked at him with forgiveness.
The kettle squealed in increased intensity as the water boiled overtop the old stove. Hermione had chosen to make tea the muggle way, if nothing else then for the comfort of ritual.
She remembered the dreams clearly, more so than she would care to. They had surprised and scared her, and more over confused her. She couldn't understand how Draco had ended up incorporated into all her memories the way he had, the way he was. If she looked back, he was suddenly there; beside her on the hogwarts express; sitting with her in class; even when she was just a kid, before she knew anything about the wizarding world. That's how she knew her memories weren't right - Draco and the muggle world couldn't coexist peacefully.
It was just ... strange. Disconcerning. No, she means disconcerting. Or is that even a word? Oh god, now her vocabulary is slipping. Something really must be wrong.
She shook her head, and pulled the kettle off. Pouring the water into two mugs and throwing in the tea bags, she balanced the cups in her hands, trying careful not to spill any. Draco, who had after their 'conversation' ended had taken to the corner chair with a book, looked up lazily and mildly surprised as she presented him with a mug.
"Thanks," he murmured, taking the drink gratefully. She just nodded and curled up into the adjascent sofa. Turning back to his book, Draco found himself unable to focus on the words once again. So instead, he took to casually peering over the edge of the book at the girl sitting across from him.
Hermione looked tired, but that was only to be expected. The dark rings that circled her eyes had been worse, but Draco was certain they had also seen better days. Her usually frizzy hair was fluffed up around her head at awkward angles, causing him to chuckle lightly under his breath. She gave him a strange look, but he averted his eyes before she could catch him staring. He saw in his peripherials as she stared at him a while, a faint blush colouring her cheeks, until she finally looked away. Draco smiled slightly, and was pleased to find he could return to his novel.
They sat in a surprisingly amiable silence until a thought occured to Hermione. She felt rather stupid for not thinking of it sooner, but resisted the urge to slap herself upside the head. Setting the cup down on the table, she jolted up and began rummaging around the tent.
Draco watched as her searching grew more drastic, pillows and chairs thrown haphazardly around the room, before intervening, "What are you looking for?" He frowned. Maybe he could help her look - no, don't be silly.
She paused, throwing him a glance, then returned to her search. Hermione rummaged a moment more before muttering, "Floo Powder."
Draco's stomach lurched. Quickly, he said, "You can't possibly be thinking of leaving. We," he stopped suddenly, then continued deliberatly, "You've got nowhere to go where they won't find you." To his inexplicable relief, she rolled her eyes and snapped, "I know that. I want to talk to Harry and Ron."
It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "You've got to be kidding. You're putting your own neck on the line to have a little chat with your friends?"
"I don't expect you to understand."
"Good, because I don't. You'll have to explain it to me."
She spun around and threw her hands above her head, shouting exhasparatedly, "They don't know where I am, if I'm okay, if I'm even alive! What would they think, seeing what they did that night? Even if they did see you save me, what would that explain? I need to talk to them. If I can't talk to them directly, I'll talk to someone who can."
He just shook his head, "It's too dangerous."
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she lowered her arms. In her right hand she held the object of her searching - a small flowerpot of Floo Powder.
"It's not up to you."
She marched over to the small fireplace in the corner Draco hadn't noticed before, and he leaped up to follow her. Sticking his hands deep into his pockets, he stood warily behind her and she knelt before the grates. She lit a fire quickly, using the magical method as opposed to muggle. Hermione grabbed a handful of green powder, spilling it over the floor.
Throwing it into the fire, the two watched as the flames turned their eerie green colour. Grinning wildly, Hermione stuck her head into the fire, shouting "The Burrow!"
She got the strange, familiar feeling of her head spinning and falling while her body stood firmly still. Then she saw the living room of the Weasley's house begin to take shape. "Mr. Weasley?" She called, the room in front of her still coming into form, "Molly? Ron?" Hermione saw a figure in the room - three figures, two of them with bright red hair coming towards the fireplace.
Smiling wider, Hermione started to call again - but her voice caught in her throat. Her eyes went from the shocked, concerned faces of a strained Arthur Weasley, holding the arms of his wife, Molly, to the third figure standing off to the side. A figure with grey, narrow eyes and dark slicked back hair.
The third figure was Pius Thicknesse.
He drew back his wand, approaching the fireplace with hand outstretched. Hermione shrieked, paralyzed by fear, before she was pulled back quickly by two arms wrapped around her waist.
She collapsed backwards, returned to the drafty cold tent, on top of Draco. He looked over at her, concerned, "What happened, what's going on?"
Hermione glanced over her shoulder, eyes full of apology and regret, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you were right - we need to go. Quickly." Draco stared at her a moment, but listened to her immediately. Dirt and dust filled the air as he pulled them up, helping Hermione by the arms, and set away from the fireplace. Draco drew his wand and strolled out of the tent, throwing his stowed book onto the table with a loud smack. Hermione followed close behind.
With a wave of his wand, the tent disassembled into its compact form, then disappeared into the depths of Hermione's little beaded bag. Hermione clasped the bag shut and shoved it down her sock, finally glancing up to meet his gaze. He was staring at her determinedly. "You'll tell me what happened when we're safe?" She nodded, and Draco said, "Alright, let's go -"
Deafening crashes and cracks sounded as a dozen cloaked men apparated around them. Hermione let out a high shriek, instinctivly clutching Draco's hand. The men around them sent a series of curses towards the pair, and the two could barely block them all in time. Hermione recognized some of them as Ministry officials, Draco recognized the rest as Death Eaters.
"Get them!" One shouted, sending a killing curse at Draco's chest. The blond's eyes widened as he realized he couldn't move out of the way. Fear clenched his veins as he watched, helpless, death approach his heart. Hermione took a chance and spun them on the spot - darkness took them, the air leaving her chest, and she could only hope they had gotten out in time.
Light met her eyes, Hermione blinked once, twice, to adjust, when dread and terror filled her chest.
The hand in hers was limp.