She hated this. This strange and awful feeling of weightlessness that accompanied you when one used the floo. She detested any method of travel that involved flying or that particular sensation. It was less of a heights thing leaning more towards a loss of solid ground thing.
But there was something solid here. Something warm and calming, ensuring her that there would be earth under her feet any moment. And when she blinked her eyes open only to see the shadowed face of Malfoy gazing at her, she realized the earth had never felt so far away.
His grey eyes were brilliant with the fading blue flames flickered around them, giving way to a darkness that signaled their arrival. She couldn't tear her eyes away, even as she let out the shaking nervous breath she'd held.
"You alright?" He whispered to her, making her stomach flip and her head begin to ache. Why did he have to be so different? And she wanted to shrug and seem unaffected. To seem like she was the brave Gryffindor but she really did despise lying, especially to herself.
"Will be." She replied just as quiet, not sure if it were the floo travel that made her feel so off kilter or the fact that she had held Malfoys hand and thought it nice. "Next time, we go my way." Hermione smiled a little, hoping he'd just go with it.
And for once, sweet Merlin, he did. Malfoy simply nodded and released her hand. She felt the loss instantly but with it came the realization that they were in another parlor. A welcome distraction.
It was unlike the grimy pub they had come from. High peach walls stretched above them into a beautiful arch as dozens of tiny windows littered the ceiling letting in streams of light. It was warm and welcoming, more like a comfortable apartment.
They stepped from the fireplace and into a large, heavily carpeted room. In the corner sat an old wooden desk with papers piled high in multiple stacks. A small mousy man sat behind it with large eyes and the smallest pair of wire glasses she'd ever seen.
His warm face looked up and it took only a moment before he recognized her. She disliked this as well. Hermione would really rather leave the spotlight to the boys, her preferring anonymity. But as was always the case, she was too well known. At least, her face was.
"Ms. Granger!" He squeaked, rushing over to stand before them. He was a small man, no more than five foot tall, with brown whiskers that seemed to come straight out of his nose but his eyes were kind and soft. She liked him immediately.
"To what do we owe the honor?"
She shifted, not sure why but she didn't want to bring attention to Malfoy just yet, though she was positive the mouse man had seen him. She just wasn't so sure he recognized him as well. Hermione was quick to think, hoping for a reason that would both distract him and help her cause.
"Looking for some plants, actually. Marsh Marigolds?" She hoped to keep his attention but the man glanced at the figure behind her and the happiness that lit his eyes were gone, replaced with fear and anger. The defensive knot in her gut came on strong, surprising her.
"Sir, what is your name?" She asked quickly, laying a hand on his arm, bringing whatever he was about to say to a halt. He flustered a bit but finally smiled loving the attention she was giving him.
"Pardon me miss. I am Francis Nudder. Wizard administrator of Faroe and the guard to the only Floo entrance." He puffed out his little chest, sniffing in Draco's direction as if in warning.
"Well, Mr. Nudder, I'm on very important business. Secret, you see." She whispered conspiratorially, leaning towards him in the pretense of privacy. It took a moment but then his eyes snapped to Draco then back to her.
The man was practically glowing with importance by the time he had set up room and board for them in a small home for wizard guests. It was gloriously private and secluded, sitting far off the coast. He had offered to fly them there but she refused, explaining that a muggle car would be less obvious.
The drive was pleasant, if not odd. Hermione had become accustomed to being by herself. She loved the peace that came with silence, no loud chewing noises, or endless Quidditch talk. But for some reason his quiet made her… uncomfortable.
As soon as the small cottage like house came into view, she was ready to jump from the vehicle and nearly did so as it stopped. She handed the driver some of the currency she'd traded Mr. Nudder for and bid him farewell.
The cab sped away, leaving a cloud of dust in its trail. Hermione stood watching, knowing that Draco now stood behind her. She could feel his eyes on her and she suddenly felt very self-conscious.
First thing she was going to do was take a bloody shower. Her skin felt sticky and her hair was a nasty mess.
"Want to flip a coin to see who can bathe first?" He asked, voice light and deep at the same time. She laughed in relief, turning to see him running a hand through his own less-than-clean hair.
"Oh I see. Not going to be the gentleman and let me go first?" She remarked, waltzing past him and unlocking the door to the small two story cottage.
He chuckled, the sound making the stomach flutter curiously, and followed her inside. The weight of the moment had been lifted and while she knew something strange was happening, she wasn't about to stop it.
"I thought offering to flip was being the gentleman."
Her laughter filled the small room as the enchanted lights flickered on, the fire being lit as soon as they walked in. It was a cozy place, wooden and rustic, but definitely comfortable.
In the end, she won the coin toss. Her relief was palpable, even as he mock scowled, blond brows brought together in an overly dramatic way. He stayed in her thoughts as she relaxed in the hot steam, preferring the shower over the tub. The water was perfect and helped relieve the tense knots that had set up shop in-between her shoulder blades.
Her clothes would be washed and ready by the time she got out thanks to a few careful spells and a bucket, but she would still find her pajamas. Just because she would be sharing the space for a few nights didn't mean she'd have to not be comfortable, right?
After she toweled off she still found herself wondering if it were appropriate. She donned the red and gold flannel boxer shorts and large Gryffindor t-shirt she and some other muggle born girls had made. It was her favorite thing to wear, having been with her through most of her Hogwarts years.
But she'd never thought to wear it in front of a man like Draco. He was, if she were being completely honest with herself, intimidating and dark. But so very handsome.
And she wanted to smack herself for even thinking it, but it was true. She had always thought he'd be so cute if it weren't for his attitude. And wouldn't you know it? Looks like he had changed his. But that's not why she was here, she reminded herself.
She was going to find a cure, heal him, and get back to the business of discovering wild and mystical beasts. So she lifted her chin and tossed up her hair into her usual messy bun.
She'd be damned if he made her feel uncomfortable in her favorite lazy clothes.
With a long warm blanket tucked under her arm, Hermione flounced down the stairs and came face to face with something akin to heaven.
Draco stood barefoot in a plain white sleeveless shirt and dark faded jeans over a steaming pot. The room was filled with a spicy and savory aroma making her stomach growl. She'd forgotten how damn hungry she was.
Quicker than a pixie, something hot and forbidden flashed in his silver eyes as she shuffled into the small kitchen. It vanished quickly, his eyes going back to the meal he'd been working on, though the pink in his ears assured Hermione she hadn't been mistaken .
Malfoy couldn't be attracted to her. Surely she'd been mistaken. She was a mudblood, a muggle born! She wasn't even that attractive, for Merlin's sake. Hermione tried to convince herself that it was the hunger for food, and desire for rest that made her mind play games.
Still, she awkwardly made her way to the small two person table. A single place had been set, tea made, and what looked like an attempt at biscuits. She smiled gingerly as he met her eyes, reassured when he nodded to her.
"What is that lovely smell?" Hermione whispered, afraid to break the spell of calm that she was working around her mind.
"It's a stew. Sort of simple. The pantry was stocked thankfully but I don't know how to make much." Draco replied just as quietly, placing a bowl in front of her. Before she could ask if he were joining her, Draco made for the stairs, eager more for the shower, then for dinner. She watched him go as she worried her bottom lip.
This adventure was turning out to be… interesting.