April 29, 2008, Vanaheimr

Hermione stumbled on an uneven patch of stone and caught herself, sucking in a breath as she tried to shake the lethargy from her mind. They had been walking for hours. Malfoy had insisted on taking an alternate route, one which he thought would be well out of the way of the Death Eaters. At first, the new chambers and caverns had been interesting, but for the past few hours they had run together into one long, exhausting stream of painted walls and dust-covered furniture.

Hermione was bone-tired. Despite the dampening bag, Gleipnir sat heavy and pulsing at her waist. The potential for power and destruction that swung in her beaded bag made her anxiety levels crescendo, the panic nipping at her heels. There was a current of agitation sliding across her skin, and it felt alien to her, as if the emotion didn't belong in her body. She felt disconnected from it, but it was there. Every feeling was amplified somehow and it was making her head pound. All she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and sleep like the dead.

She stretched her arms overhead as they walked, peering around at the cavernous space they trudged through. It was massive, the walls triple the usual size to accommodate dozens of high loft spaces. Each loft was carved directly into the stone walls, the dark voids of their entrances stacked one on top of the other. Ladders had been chiselled into the rock, allowing access into the darkened ledges.

She threw a glance at Malfoy as he walked several feet ahead of her. His shoulders were hunched with exhaustion and his gait was erratic, as if he was having as hard a time as she was staying on his feet. After the initial excitement of finding Gleipnir in the Star Chamber, his mood had turned first introspective and then sullen. He hadn't spoken more than five words in the last three hours and Hermione was heartily sick of his changeable moods.

"What's this chamber labeled as?" Her voice was rough from hours of silence and exhaustion. She cleared her throat, feeling a coating of dust on her tongue.

Malfoy stumbled to a stop, his fingers plucking at his belt pouch. Pulling out the map scroll, he unrolled it and tracked their path with a finger.

"Translation charm says it's a sleeping chamber."

Hermione spun in place, taking in the patchwork of lofts spanning across the massive walls. She felt her mind whir into it's usual inquisitive pace and bit her lip as she thought. "They might have been assigned sleeping spaces by family groups or skill-sets. I bet each family or couple had a loft. I wonder how far back they go into the stone?"

Malfoy rolled his shoulders and then tucked the scroll back into his belt pouch. His face was set in a mask of irritation and exhaustion as he swept a gaze across the walls and then shrugged. "Take your pick, Granger. We need to rest, and at the back of one of those ledges is probably the safest place to be."

Hermione nodded eagerly, glad that he had suggested they stop. She hadn't wanted to be the one to make the request. If this had been one of her solo expeditions she would have made a point to rest hours ago, but she felt on-edge with Malfoy accompanying her. As if she needed to prove something to the aristocratic bastard. She spun again and then pointed. "There, let's go for that one. It's high, but not on the top level. It's not in any special place, just one of dozens."

Malfoy grunted and waved a hand towards the ladder. Hermione began to climb, surprised at how well the carved handholds were positioned into the wall and how easy it was to ascend.

"I bet the old and infirm, or families with young children had the bottom level of ledges. A quick leg up from someone would be enough to get them in." She spoke over her shoulder as they climbed and she heard Malfoy's answering derisive snort. She grimaced at his taciturnity. His irritation confused her, she had thought they had been working together rather well all things considered. But ever since their talk the night before, he had swung from one extreme to the other and it was doing her head in.

Hauling herself onto the ledge, she rolled forward and rose, dusting at her trousers. Pulling out her wand, she cast a whispered Lumos and moved forward into the space. It was empty, except for the ubiquitous dust. The carved ledge went back some ten meters, a large enough space for a small family or several people to sleep comfortably.

"They did most of their living communally, so these spaces would have been purely for sleeping I suppose. I wonder what they slept on? Bedrolls or bunks? The other furniture has survived well, so I would assume if it had been something built of wood that it would still be here." She rambled on as she walked the length of the space, her quiet voice muffled in the enclosed gloom. She glanced back at Malfoy and caught the tail end of an eye roll. She glared at him before plopping down against the back wall, crossing her legs beneath her.

Unhooking her beaded bag from her belt, she cast a quiet summoning spell and felt one of the wizarding lights hit her palm. Removing it from the bag, she tapped it a few times with her wand until it gave off a dull, dim glow; just enough to light the back of the loft space but not enough to spread out where passing dark wizards would see it. She placed it on the ground, and stuck her hand back in her bag. Summoning the magically shrunken bedrolls, she pulled them out and set them next to her.

"Can you enlarge them while I get the food?"

Malfoy grunted in response, but he pulled his wand from his holster and flicked it towards the bedrolls. Hermione grumbled under her breath, her exhaustion making her patience with his surliness almost non-existent. She quickly summoned the food bag she had packed in the Stavanger hotel. Spreading a cloth out on the ground, she unceremoniously dumped the sandwiches and gestured sharply at Malfoy.

They ate in silence, Hermione's eyes fluttering shut as she chewed. Across from her, Malfoy crouched against the wall, his entire body rigid with irritation and exhaustion. Hermione watched him from the corner of her eyes as she ate. His mercurial moods made her feel off-balance; she didn't know how to navigate them at the best of times. And this was not the best of times; she felt as if she was on a precipice, ready to jump or strike.

"You can have the larger one," she said, waving towards the bedrolls where Malfoy had left them on the dusty ground. He grunted again, and she snapped, glaring malevolently at his irritated expression.

"Gods, Malfoy, grow up. I am so sick of whatever crawled up your ass."

"And I am so sick of your useless rambling, Granger. Can't you just shut up for once in your life?"

She jumped to her feet, snatching her bedroll up from the ground as she whirled away from him. She stomped several meters away, throwing the bedroll onto the stone and a glare over her shoulder at the blonde git. "You know what? You can go fuck yourself. I don't know what I expected, trying to be civil with the son of a fucking Death Eater."

The minute the words left her mouth, she tasted ash. Sucking in a breath, she looked away from him and stared blankly at her bedroll. She blinked back sudden tears. The shame settled over her like a pall; how could she say such a thing to him, after he had poured his heart out to her in Stavanger? She felt her fingers clench on the bedroll and she took a shuddering breath, willing herself to calm. Rising slowly to her feet she squared her shoulders. She spun back towards him, her face contrite.

"Malfoy, I'm -" The words burst out of her chest on a puff of breath as her body was slammed back into the stone wall. He was there, holding her against the rock, his palms grinding into the bones of her shoulders. Her vision was filled with his snarling face, his pale eyes blazing with anger. She felt the fear rise up through her chest, setting her heart racing.

"For the last fucking time, Granger, I am not my fucking father," he hissed, fury and hurt dripping from every syllable. "When are you going to get that giant stick out of your ass and let me live?"

She shut her eyes, feeling as low as she had in years. The pain radiated out from where he pressed her shoulders into the stone. She opened her eyes, blinking at him through hot tears. She opened her mouth but he shook her, cutting her off with a snarl.

"Even your precious Potter trusts me; he doesn't question the information I provide him, he doesn't judge me for my past. Fucking Weasley thanked me for the information that brought in Yaxley. How is it that two thirds of the Golden Trio is able to trust me, but Hermione fucking Granger still thinks I'm lower than dirt?"

Hermione gaped at him, his words ricocheting around inside her brain. Information? Draco Malfoy was an Auror informant? Oh Merlin, how she kept wronging this man.

She blinked up at him, her confusion and surprise flitting across her features. He glared down at her, his breath wheezing from his chest. He must have realized that he had let slip something important, because he shook himself in disgust and Hermione felt his grip on her shoulders lessen. His body coiled to turn away, but she grabbed at his arms and held him in place. He jolted as her fingers gripped him, but he stopped moving away from her.

"I am so sorry, Malfoy," she breathed, her eyes searching his face. He stilled under her touch, his body as taut and tense as a bow string. Her mouth twisted in remorse. "I'm so sorry. I lash out when I'm tired, or frustrated… and I know that's a terrible excuse." She shook her head, her expression rueful. She sucked in a breath, feeling tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. She blinked, looking up to the ceiling and choking on a laugh.

"Merlin, Malfoy, I know you're not your father. You drive me insane, you're a complete snob, you make me so incredibly angry sometimes… but you're not a Death Eater." She tightened her grip on his arms, catching his eyes. "You are an insufferable git with an attitude problem, but you are a good man."

Her words were a breathy whisper in the silent air, her gaze intense. She felt the entire length of his body inches from her own, could feel the rise and fall of his chest. She gripped his arms, her fingers spasming against his skin as they stared at each other. A moment passed, and she tried to think of what to say next, what words would quell the burning in his eyes. She could feel her cheeks heating under his gaze as she thought about what she had just said to him; she was seconds away from trying to escape when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

She gasped, arching into him almost instinctively. What had meant to be a push of lips was suddenly open-mouthed and urgent, his tongue sliding along hers as she clutched at him. She burned under his touch, her body reacting so viscerally that she was almost afraid. But then his fingers pressed into her skin and she felt something needy and delicious start to build in her core. Just his touch made her blood heat and she looked up at him with wide eyes.

His hand slid from her shoulders to her waist, drawing her closer as his hips pressed her against the stone. He pressed open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and neck, his breath coming in ragged pants. She hitched a leg up along his flank, hooking her calf around his waist and he cupped her ass, pulling her against him. She mewled at the contact, feeling him harden against her.

Everywhere he touched her sent sparks of desire shooting through her veins. Her breath was a hot wind in her chest, her mouth moving against his with no discernible rhythm. His fingers dug into her hip and under her thigh; she knew there would be bruises there and she did not care. All she cared about in that moment was getting him closer, pressing against him until she wasn't sure where his skin ended and hers began.

His hand came up and slid along her neck to her cheek, his palm cupping her face as his lips slowed. He pulled himself away from her, mere centimeters between them, and stared down at her. She watched him, her eyes hooded. His thumb rasped across her cheekbone, his eyes following it's path. She felt a sudden rightness settle into her chest and she smiled up at him, her swollen lips sliding against his as she pressed gently against him. His hands carded through her curls, pulling them away from her face. He laughed, a soft breathy sound, and she grinned against his mouth. Her fingers fumbled at the waistband of his trousers as his caught in her hair.

"Are you sure?" His voice was raw with his need, but he pulled away again and searched her face. She felt her heart somersault in her chest; this man… this damned man, how he continued to surprise her. Her answer was to kiss him, sliding against him as they turned away from the wall. She slid past him and went to the bedrolls, laying them out beside each other and straightening them across the dusty ground. Her fingers tugged at the corners as she steadied herself, her heart racing in her chest as she gathered her courage around her like a cloak.

She turned back to him, finding him standing several feet away as he watched her. She smiled at him, reaching a hand out and he took it, lacing his fingers with hers. She tugged him towards her, laughing as his body collided with hers. He grinned down at her, his eyes bright as he followed the path of her blush as it rose from her chest to her face. He wrapped himself around her as he lowered her to the bedroll, his hands sliding along her body with such gentle reverence that she could have cried. He pushed her linen shirt up her torso and kissed her stomach, his mouth gliding across her ribs as his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts. She stretched languidly, her body on fire as he moved against her, his hands reaching around and deftly unhooking her bra.

She let him raise her up and she slipped her shirt and bra over her arms, until she was bare under his touch. His tongue laved her nipples and she groaned, the sound ripping up from some deep place in her belly. She pushed his shirt over his head, desperate to feel his skin against hers. As he pulled it off, she shimmied out of her trousers and then waited as he divested his own. And then he was there, the whole glorious length of his pale, lean body stretched out over hers and she laughed, her lips finding his as her fingers slid through his hair.

"What on earth is so funny, Granger?" He smirked against her skin, his mouth sliding along the line of her jaw. She gasped as his fingers delved lower, until he was swirling a rhythm against her sex that made her eyes cross.

"I don't know," she chuckled, her voice stuttering under his ministrations. "I'm just… happy."

His eyes met hers and he blinked, his expression unguarded. She saw emotions flow over his pale features and he caught her lips with his. She cupped his face with her hands, pulling him away until she could look into his eyes.

"Malfoy… I am sorry. You have been exactly what I needed on this mission and I haven't been fair to you."

His lips quirked in a smile as he stared down at her. "Well, I did steal the Book of Thoth from you. I think that alone justifies you thinking badly of me."

She laughed, her mouth pressing against his as he pulled her against him. His fingers were still tracing patterns and she shook against him from more than laughter. "Oh Merlin, that's right. I should be furious with you," she whispered, her lips moving against his.

"Then I'll just have to make you forget all about it," he retorted, his palm pressing against her as she came, arching into him. She shook in his arms for several moments, her mind ablaze with pleasure. As she stilled, she became aware of his hands sliding along her flanks and his mouth sucking at base of her neck. She grasped at him with weak fingers, her body still languid from her orgasm. Pulling him up her body she wrapped her legs around him, positioning him where she wanted him to be.

"Make me forget, Draco," she whispered, her mouth finding his. And she wasn't surprised at all when he did exactly what she asked.

Xx

Later, they lay tangled together in the bedrolls. She could feel his heart beating underneath her temple and he was tracing lazy patterns across her skin. Sleep was licking at the edges of her consciousness; she was warm and sated, the exhaustion from earlier swamping back through her veins. She could feel something else on the edge of her consciousness, a warmth and affection that made the blood sing in her veins.

"If I had known our arguments could end like that, Granger, then I think I probably would have antagonized you more," he murmured, his breath hot on her scalp.

She chuckled, shifting her weight against him. "I don't know how you think you could have antagonized me any more than you already did, Malfoy. We've been at each other's throats since we were in school."

"Half a lifetime of foreplay, I suppose," he mused, his fingers brushing her curls away from her shoulders. "I always knew it would be like that." His voice was slightly awed, and Hermione felt her heart stutter in her chest.

She rose up on her elbows, peering down at him in the dim light. His eyes were hooded as he watched her, his swollen lips quirked upward in his trademark smirk. But she couldn't detect an ounce of derision in his expression; in fact, he was watching her with a warmth that made her toes curl.

"You always knew?" Her question was soft in the silence and his hand came up to trace along her jaw and down her neck to her collarbone. His eyes followed the path of his fingers as she stared down at him. "What did you always know, Malfoy?"

"That you would be like this. Feisty. Passionate. So fucking sexy," he growled, his eyes burning into hers.

She felt the blush spreading out from her chest, but quirked an eyebrow at him as she regarded him with thinly-veiled disbelief. "Don't tell me you've been pining after me all this time, Malfoy. I don't believe it."

He barked a laugh, his hand sliding to the back of her neck before gripping her hair as he pulled her down to him. His lips pressed against hers and she huffed an indignant breath, feeling him smile against her mouth.

"No, Granger, I wasn't pining. Not in the way you're insinuating. But I've come to realize that I've always been attracted to you, ever since you got your teeth fixed back in school," he chuckled, his lips moving against hers. His hand slid down her spine before splaying at the small of her back, pressing her gently against him.

"But you hated me!"

"Yes, I did. I had to, back then," he admitted, his voice rueful. "But I was also a teenage boy who wanted to throw you into the nearest broom closet and have my evil way with you. It was a very confusing time for me."

She laughed, pulling away slightly to stare down into his face. He grinned up at her, his knuckles grazing her cheekbone. "After I was released from Azkaban, I couldn't escape news of you. War-Heroine Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age. And I found myself… intrigued."

"Intrigued? Is that what you call trying to sabotage my work?" Her lips were turned upwards in a smile, her tone negating the harshness of her words.

"Like I said before, you're a worthy opponent Granger." His gaze was hot on hers, his hands burning into her skin. She stared down at him for several breaths, at a loss for words.

After a moment, she slid down beside him, stretching her body along his and laying her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, his hand resting on her hip. She sighed contentedly, the sound of his heartbeat calming the questions that still swirled in her mind. She felt enveloped in a feeling of warmth, an almost tender endearment. Had she been more alert, she might have questioned it but she was too exhausted to care. As she began to slip into sleep, he pressed a kiss to her hair and she felt his lips move but the words were lost.