Recap:
They impatiently shed each other of the bounds of their clothes and collapsed into a fervent blistering pool. It eased the agony of the circumstance in which they found themselves. Survivors of a war, that it appears was not truly over.
They were the loose-ends now.
And as they reached that point of utmost pure spirit, eliminating all angst and concern from their minds, eight wizards in white cloaks stood upon the footpath before Hermione's white picket fence.
Ready to cut the loose-ends.
"Can you kneel before the king and say I'm clean
And tell me now where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart
Her white blank page and her swelling rage
You did not think when you sent me to the grave"
"Minister I am certain there is a better approach to the situation."
"Are you honestly willing to take the chance Ackley!? He is not a child anymore! He shall face judgement day along with the rest of the loose ends."
"Yes, yes I understand... But Miss Granger, she is a war hero sir -,"
"Exactly why the situation is more serious, Ackley. Who knows what spell he has the poor witch under. It is conducive that we disengage the situation as quickly as possible before she joins the dead."
"She doesn't need to see this-,"
"As if she hasn't seen it before! Ackley get out of my office. You have your orders now follow them, gather the society and get going."
Nigel Ackley took a deep breath and clenched the white slip of parchment tighter in his hand before turning and leaving Shacklebolt's office. Taking a last look at the address printed in fine script across the parchment, he crumpled it up and through it against a wall before striding swiftly down the hall; leaving the ball of paper rocking gently upon the marble stones.
Ackley gathered his thoughts and his men upon the pavement before number nineteen, with the white picket fence.
Solemn and silent he opened the gate emanating a slight scraping of the hinges, and his men followed through. Noiselessly they glided up the garden path, their white cloaks unmoving in the night air.
As they gracefully swept up the stairs they made no sound. And as they plunged swiftly down the hall, the light which had been spilling endlessly from beneath the end door suddenly flickered out. And they froze with baited breath, poised for ambush.
Hermione and Draco sat in an entangled pile upon the floor; clothing strewn haphazardly and upturned furniture surrounded them.
Their shallow, hasty breaths tickled the light hairs upon each other's shoulders as they gathered each other in their arms, absorbing the overpowering heat and comfort; exerting their troubles with every bead of sweat that trickled down their spine.
Hermione heard the familiar creak of the gate and closed her eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath.
Draco planted gentle kisses across Hermione's collar bone; she could feel the curve of his smile against her skin. Gently, she raised Draco's chin with her finger.
He saw the fragility pressed against the edge of her hazel orbs and his smile faltered, yet Hermione urged it on, moving her own rose-bitten lips to form a warm comforting smile.
Hermione exhaled shakily, trying to wrap her head around what it was she was doing here. What she was risking. What she was losing all together. For a brief second she let her mind ponder staying, of returning to her friends who she had known her entire life and forgetting about Draco Malfoy; letting him slip back into the outfit of the bully-turned-death eater child from school.
It made her falter. Was this too much to give up? In all honesty, it was everything.
Draco felt Hermione shaking within his arms, her breathing excelling rapidly. He tightened his grasp around her waist and brought his head to the crook of her neck.
The small squeeze of her waist and the soft tickle of his breath upon her neck brought Hermione down. And the fear of all she would lose for this one feeling evaded her.
Hermione nodded. Draco took a deep breath and tightened his arms around her waist. Hermione gently slipped her wand from the pocket of the cloak which lay discarded beside her and with a flick of her wand, the light went out.
Nigel Ackley looked around at the still hallway. The white of their cloaks glowed amongst the darkness. He felt beads of sweat drip down from his thick black hair as he lowered his wand towards the door. He watched as one of the front-men of the operation muttered an incantation, sending a powder stream beneath the door. It was meant to make them more... reasonable. Less likely to want a confrontation...
Nigel waited a few moments for the powder to take effect. Then with a sharp intake of breath he blasted the door open and they flooded in, wands at the ready.
Yet all they found was a room that appeared to be entirely destructed, a chest of timber draws lay shattered upon the floor, the bed upturned the ceiling lamp still swinging gently, and still-warm garments littered the floor.
A sense of relief flooded Ackley at the site that lay before him. That they were not the ones to deal with this situation. Yet as the curious state of the room struck him dread swallowed his lungs.
Perhaps someone had gotten them first.
"Where are we?" Draco asked coughing and spluttering.
He sensed Hermione shuffling in the darkness and the click of the light switch. With the room now lit up, Draco looked around blearily at the harsh wooden timber floors and the risen dust from their entrance. Hermione was standing sheepishly near the door as she attempted to subtly cover up her still naked figure.
Draco, still sitting upon the dust covered floorboards, had the decency to look apologetic and cast his gaze towards the window.
Hermione cleared her throat and headed towards a tall wooden cupboard. As the doors creaked open a whoosh of dust enveloped the entire room leaving Hermione and Draco once again choking and gasping. As it settled, Hermione spent a few moments staring at her choices, before reluctantly choosing the least dreadful looking garment and brushing off the dust.
Out the window Draco could see the morning dew clinging to leaves upon the trees and slipping helplessly from cherry-blossom petals. A thick fog swam sluggishly between the gardens and procured a hollow echo as it snaked between the trunks of ancient trees.
Draco cast his gaze back over his shoulder to be hit in the face with a dust riddled pool of brown fabric. He soon discovered it was a pair of trousers and he noiselessly slipped them on.
Standing at full height he realised they only reached halfway down his calf. He looked up rather confused to Hermione, who was sporting a rather old-fashioned frock.
The peasant-like canvas fabric clung dramatically to her unharnessed attributes, and was cinched at the waist with a thick piece of rope. Draco eyed her small slender feet shuffling nervously on the dank floorboards, raising dust with every movement.
Hermione held out a dust consumed oxford. The once-white garment had a faded grey vest hung around it; thick oak buttons dotted down the breach.
With a breathless chuckle Draco gently took the clothes from Hermione and shrugged them on.
"You know you don't need to wear the vest Draco."
Draco frowned.
"Well, if I didn't. This would all be far too real."
Hermione stood frozen in befuddlement.
Draco looked down at his outfit. Brown dusty peasant pants which barely made it passed his knee, dusty yellowed oxford and faded grey vest.
He looked up in amusement at Hermione.
"See this. This is like a game of dress-ups. Just fantasy." He trailed. Draco pivoted back towards the window and Hermione managed a smile towards the boyish attitude he seemed to have acquired in the absence of their reality.
"So..?" He asked. Draco wiped the dust off the window pane and lent his head against it for a better look at the surrounding garden. Hermione joined Draco at the window and peered into the mysterious greenery.
"This is my grandparents house." She said softly.
Draco's body stiffened.
"You think this was a safe place to bring us?"
"They're passed Draco. They left their property to me. We're in the middle of a muggle occupied part of the French countryside,"
Hermione pushed away from the window and headed towards the thick wooden door.
"Still, to be safe I apparated to the workers cabin just in case they had a magical trace on the house."
"You don't think there's a chance the cabin is traced?"
Hermione creaked open the door and peered out into the yard. With a smile she replied,
"Not at all. It's deep within their garden and near impossible to locate if you don't know where it is. It was my playhouse when I was a little girl,"
Taking a step outside Draco watched her trail into the garden.
"So when you say we're merely playing dress-ups, Draco, that's truly what we're doing. "
Draco followed her outside. Since reaching the cabin, a strange buzz had overtaken him. As if he was breathing on a different plane of life entirely. the frosted grass beneath his feet was an arctic carpet. He watched amiably as droplets swam towards the sky with every footstep Hermione made upon the grass. Spears of sunlight split the fog and illuminated the overgrown gardens beauty. Vines twisted their way across the arctic carpet and up the ancient trees. Flowers spilled from every crevice they could find, reaching towards the sunlight hungrily. Hermione stopped in the centre of a small circular clearing. A crumbling stone bench was situated on the edge beside an empty pot plant.
The bittersweet freshness of the air left a cake of frost throughout Hermione's lungs, yet extinguished the sweltering frustration that had become her life.
"Come sit down." Hermione said softly.
Draco came and sat down on the cool, wet grass beside Hermione. Cross-legged and placid. Hermione tucked her legs up beneath her and leaned towards Draco, taking his hands in hers and giving his fingertips a small squeeze. Hermione smiled brilliantly before placing a quick, chaste kiss upon his cheek.
Draco smiled, grey eyes twinkling like an infant on a mystical journey.
And to an onlooker perhaps that was how they would look.
Dust-covered peasant dress-ups, sitting cross-legged in a dew-covered garden with careless smiles upon their faces.
And everyone knows, that to be but a child comes with woes and frustration.
"What's happening Hermione?" Draco asked serenely.
He watched the luminous dew droplets evaporate before his eyes off the leaves of the plants. Dancing gracefully with each other amongst the fog.
"Are you sure your grandparents weren't magical? I feel so light." He chuckled and flung himself backwards against the arctic carpet.
"Draco, this has nothing to do with this garden. I mean certainly, it has heightened the... magnificence of it. But this is the effects of the ministry.
"What about them." Draco asked as he attempted to make an arctic carpet angel. Whooshing his arms and legs like scissors to and fro.
"Just before we left they attempted to... sedate us of soughts. I read about it in a book I found in the forbidden section once. You see-,"
Hermione wormed herself over beside Draco. She came face to face with a Daisy which she picked and began to sway before Draco's face.
"It's a powder that effects the transcendent state of the mind. Making you open, free, relaxed."
"They drugged us Hermione!" Draco said. He looked skywards happily and laughed freely.
Draco snapped the Daisy out of Hermione's hands with his teeth, originating a yelp in surprise from Hermione followed by childish giggles.
They lay in the clearing making arctic carpet angels, as the sunrays began to dissolve the fog.
"Life is good, is it not?" Draco said breathlessly.
Hermione turned her head to look upon the flaxen haired angel. The sun sparkled against his porcelain skin making him appear less like the moody dark force that had been enrapturing Hermione's life and more like a the pure fresh breath of air that he made her feel.
"Life is wonderful." She replied blissfully.
Draco placed a kiss upon Hermione's hand. She felt as if she could see the kiss as it sunk into the soft skin. It was golden and brilliant. Draco placed another and another; dotting them straight down to her toes. Hermione chuckled and closed her eyes, falling into the feeling.
Working his way back up he brought the canvas peasant dress with him, pulling it over Hermione's head and leaving he bathing in dew and sunshine in the clearing.
Draco felt that she looked like she belonged; as if she was a part of the garden. Her reckless hair sprawling lazily across the cool grass, her abdomen rising and falling steadily with the coming and goings of the wind.
Hermione opened her eyes to the boy who knelt staring yearningly at her figure.
"Yes, peasant friend of mine?" She asked sweetly.
His face split into a smile and he quickly shrugged off his oak buttoned vest and yellowed oxford. Hermione helped shuffle him out of his trousers before she felt him press in over her.
Although his head blocked the sun, his hair shone bright enough to illuminate the entire fixation.
Draco snuggled closer to the warm figure pressed against him and felt the material against his back slip off leaving him exposed and shivering. Blearily he sat up and looked around.
He found himself in a dark clearing, ancient trees and arctic spindles closing them in from every direction. In the distance he could see the light they had left on in the dust riddled, dilapidated cabin.
So very uninviting.
Draco took a deep breath of the painstakingly chilled air. He felt Hermione sit up beside him, her breaths hasty and shaken.
They both looked around into the black gloom of the night, unable to recall how it was this garden had looked so blissful in the light of day. Draco and Hermione huddled closer. Naked forms pressed tight. Peasant fabric strewn amongst the cold black grass.
"Welcome back to reality, Draco." Hermione said softly.
It echoed throughout the deep woods and came back in a strained fierce spit.
"Thankyou." He replied in emptiness.
A/N:
So I had hit that stage where I just ciouldnt move the story forward because my head kept wanting to go off on tangents of mystical imagination and fantasy.
So I let it happen.
I guess its a fill in chapter in which they sort of fluff around a fair bit doing nothing.
But it meant a lot to me and its good to have this out of the way so I can move on with the story.
My apologies if you dont like it or think its too far fetched. But it makes sense to me.
I've placed a vote on my profile about whether or not you think they should stay at this house for a while and work on their own relationship, or whether I should throw them straight back into the whole ministry thing. Now just a warning, If you choose the latter, the story will more than likely be a few chapters shorter.
LBxx