Chapter Ten - In Which Hermione Granger Flies a Substantial Distance Without Dying

Draco Malfoy was staring down at an ebony box laying on his bed, feeling sickened. To the left of the box sat a crumpled piece of parchment whose black ink seemed to loom at him. Of course, when things were finally becoming manageable at Beauxbatons, his father had to ruin it all. He didn't know what the objects in the box did, but he had a feeling they were something horrible, potentially worse than anything contained at Malfoy Manor, as his father himself had worried these items wouldn't be safe even there. He was instructed by his mother repetitively not to touch or even open the box, and so far his curiosity hadn't overcome his cautiousness.

Lucius Malfoy had been more than happy to allow his son to attend Beauxbatons rather than Hogwarts, but now it was clear that if Durmstrang had been an option, Draco would be somewhere up north in a frozen castle, or perhaps conducting Karkaroff's dirty work. So instead, Draco was being instructed to become a traitor.

Take the box into the woods on the south side of the chateau Saturday night. From there, a man named Ignatiev will meet you. Leave the box in his care.

Ignatiev - a Durmstrang professor.

If you curry enough favor in Karkaroff's eyes, he has promised to take you under his wing - an offer of preference next to the half-giantess beast.

His father didn't understand. Madame Maxime was more than capable. He didn't understand he would be tearing apart his son's last year of education to make a political statement. Not only was Lucius Malfoy siding with Dark wizards, but he was forcing Draco to side with them too. If anyone at Beauxbatons were to find out he was slipping their enemies potential weapons, that was it for his entire future. His father was always one to pick sides, but was very cautious when it came to protecting the reputation of the Malfoy name - which is why is seemed especially odd that he encouraged such bold behavior.

And then there was what Granger said. Draco didn't even have the capacity for Dark Magic. If his father knew, if Karkaroff knew - he could only imagine their displeasure and the extent to which they would punish him for it. He hadn't wanted to be inept at it, he had wanted to make his father proud.

There was yet one other matter - Granger herself. He had gone against everything he was raised to believe about Muggle-borns, he had gone against his very instincts which said to treated her poorly, and instead he had talked to her, sat with her, felt his stomach flip when she smiled at him. He was actually enjoying being civil with the Muggle-born, and now that that had happened, his father was suddenly calling for him to betray her, and Madame Maxime, and put the entire student body, including Granger, in danger of Dark wizards.

But what could Draco do about it?

It was Saturday afternoon, just two days before Hermione would be traveling all the way to Switzerland. As of late, she had been visiting Hogwarts at least once a day to spend time with her two best friends. She had just returned to Beauxbatons in her common room after visiting Hagrid (he had just brought out the cakes and tea when Hermione decided it was definitely time to finish her packing). Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, and truthfully this has been the case since Wednesday night. It were as though the Slytherin was avoiding her, and Hermione had a sinking suspicion it had to do with the letter he had received. Perhaps Lucius had somehow found our that his son was being too friendly with a Muggle-born, and now Draco was back to listening to his father's orders like a dog. She felt her blood boil whenever she thought about it - if Draco Malfoy had the potential to be a decent human being for once in his life, she wasn't bloody well going to let Lucius stop him.

"Malfoy!" she called irritably as she banged on his bedroom door with her small fist. "Can you help me with something please?"

She knew he was there, he had been sulking there every chance he got. But Malfoy didn't reply, nor open the door for her.

"I said please, Draco," she said, changing her tone to a plea and throwing in his first name for good measure. In the ebb and flow of their strange relationship, Hermione still wasn't sure if it irritated him or startled him to hear his first name from her. Either way, it got a result. The oak door in front of her slowly opened, and to her displeasure she saw a room that looked like carnage and a pale boy with extremely dark circles under his eyes, whose buttoned shirt was wrinkled and the buttons weren't aligned.

"What do you want, Granger?" His tone wasn't angry or brusque like usual. Today it was simply quiet - empty. This worried Hermione, so she pushed herself into his room by ducking under his arm. That was when she saw a shiny black box at the foot of his bed, which stood out against the mess and disorder of the room. His bedsheets were on the ground, which was also littered by dirty clothes, and his trunk engraved with Slytherin's crest was flooding, half its contents spewed out. "I didn't say you could come in here," said Malfoy, more sharply this time. His eyes glanced towards the neat box on his bed, a glance that Hermione didn't miss.

"I need help deciding what to pack," she said, ignoring him and taking a seat on his bed, just a short distance from the box. She could almost feel the tension building in the boy.

"It's really not that hard, Granger, and as you can see, I haven't packed yet," Malfoy said, clearly desperate to get her out of her room.

"Yes, I can see that," said Hermione, wrinkling her nose as she gazed about the room. "Why do all boys have such messy rooms?"

"Spend a lot of time in boys' bedrooms, do you Granger?"

She chose to ignore him. "I can help you pack then, since you'll need to get started."

"Listen," said Malfoy, becoming angry. "I'll pack when I'm good and well ready, I don't need a M- I mean, I don't need the likes of you to command me about, though I know you revel in being bossy."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't really expected that Malfoy would try to stick to their agreement and not call her a Mudblood anymore. "I want to talk to you, though."

"About what?"

"Nothing, really," said Hermione. "I just want to talk. You've been avoiding me."

Malfoy had an expression of both surprise and confusion. "We aren't friends, Granger, I haven't been avoiding you." He still stood in the door frame, now leaning against it with crossed arms, watching her closely as she watched him back.

"I know we aren't friends, Draco," said Hermione quietly. "It's just-"

"Please stop calling me Draco," he interrupted suddenly. His eyes were squeezed shut as though he were in pain, and his hands were clenched at his side. Hermione rose from her place on the bed, going over to where Malfoy stood.

"Why?" she asked softly, peering up at his face with concern.

"Because it makes everything harder for me," he breathed shakily. Hermione didn't know what she would do should he begin to cry, so she found herself instead taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Alright. I won't make things harder for you." Her voice brimmed with sympathy and she was slow to release his hand. When she left the room, Draco could still feel the warmth of her hands and hear the care in her voice. He looked back and forth between where she had been sitting on his bed and the box, suddenly knowing what he had to do. He just hoped his mother's warnings were unfounded.

Hermione felt guilty after leaving the room, like she was manipulating the Slytherin. She hadn't truly wanted to reach out and comfort him, as much as she knew that it was the right thing to do. Draco Malfoy was a human after all, and despite their rocky history, his emotions just then had been real and vulnerable. Despite it though, she still felt reluctant to help Malfoy in any way, expecting him to turn around and somehow use it to destroy her.

When she had decided to comfort her childhood enemy, it hadn't been out of the good of her heart - it had been because of the box on his bed. For her, it wasn't hard to put together. She didn't know the details of it all, but it seemed clear to her that Malfoy was conflicted, and it had to do with the box. The way he kept looking at worriedly, the way he had tensed when she sat by it - something was wrong with that box, or what was in it. Hermione had the suspicion his father was putting him up to something, and knowing Lucius Malfoy, it probably wasn't legal, ethical, or safe. So she had decided to feed one side of his conflicted self, the part of him that didn't want to listen to his father, and she had done that by showing him comfort and care, that she was on his side. With any luck, it would tip the scales in Draco Malfoy's warring mind.

Ashamed of herself, Hermione went to her rooms to pack and consume her mind with the pressing matters of Switzerland.

That same night, when the sky had turned to a complete blackness, Draco Malfoy slipped out of Beauxbatons chateau, a small black ebony box tucked under his arm. The silence left nothing for his mind to focus on, other than all the ways tonight could go horribly wrong. As he glided across the southern lawns, if he had looked back at the chateau, he might've been able to spot a small face of a girl peering from the window of the Ambassador Chambers, watching him in contemplation. But Draco Malfoy had other matters on his mind - a figure lurking in the trees ahead of him, large and bulky, in a bristly fur coat. Ignatiev.

"You haff brought the box?" said the man in a rumbling low voice. Draco could only nod in reply; his tongue didn't seem to be quite working correctly. Ignatiev thought nothing of this, however, and took the box eagerly into his hands. A moment later, his large fingers had unclasped it and the lid fell open to reveal two objects - a small ivory horn, and a deep purple diamond-cut amethyst. Ignatiev stared at the objects for what Draco found to be a painfully long time. His cold, beady eyes met Draco's before he said, "Vonderful. Karkaroff vill be very pleased."

As Draco nearly broke into a run on his way back to his room, he felt immense relief. Nothing had gone wrong. Not yet, at least. For now, that was all he could ask for.

Hermione and Malfoy stood alone near the fountain of the Flamels, with their luggage at their feet as they waited for Madame Maxime and Proudfoot. It was currently six in the morning on Sunday, and neither of the two had any idea how they would be traveling to Switzerland. A canvas backpack sat at Hermione's feet, and it contained five heavy book as well as her clothes and other essentials - she had cast an extension spell on it the night previous. Malfoy seemed to be traveling with a luminous black suitcase in tow. Hermione felt she might commentate on his poor choice for camping, but as per usual, things had become strained yet again between the pair of them. This time, it was mainly Hermione's fault. She couldn't shake the image of Malfoy sneaking out at night and giving someone that box. It seemed as though he had listened to Lucius and not her, and she had debated for hours whether she should tell the Headmistress. Ultimately she decided against it. She didn't Malfoy to lose what little trust in her he had, even though she returned no trust whatsoever.

Malfoy sighed, evidently tired of waiting in strained silence. Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye as he sat along the edge of the fountain, swirling it aimlessly with the point of his wand. In the distance, she could see the looming figure of Madame Maxime approaching, and next to her were two others. Yes, one was Proudfoot and the other -

"Tonks?" said Hermione incredulously. Sure enough, the bubble-gum pink haired Auror was heading her way, grinning widely. In either hand was a broomstick, and Proudfoot was carrying a similar load. What excitement Hermione had at seeing Tonks would be going with them soon dissipated when she realized the mode of transportation was broomstick.

"What?" said Tonks. "Don't like the looks of Firebolt Supremes?"

"Oh Merlin's beard, I don't like flying," said Hermione hoarsely. Malfoy was elated though.

"This is great!" he roared, taking a broom from Proudfoot. "Flying to Switzerland on the fastest brooms in the world? This is bloody brilliant!"

Madame Maxime smiled lightly down at the four of them. "Please be careful, and bring back our ambassadors in one piece if you can," she joked to Tonks and Proudfoot. "As for you two-" she turned to Hermione and Draco, "I'll consider your cooperation skills to be amazing if neither of you ends up killing the other." Malfoy smirked but Hermione couldn't crack the smallest of smiles. If Malfoy was going around being a double agent, he very well could get her killed. But she kept these thoughts to herself.

All too soon, their bags were strapped securely to their broomsticks and Hermione found herself clambering on shakily. Malfoy beside her looked over.

"You'll get used to it shortly, Granger," he assured her. She would've thought this encouragement coming from him surprising, but she was rather concerned about keeping the contents of her stomach down. "Firebolts are smooth riders, so you won't need to worry about turbulence. And if you fall, you've got three people here to catch you," he joked, which made her feel even queasier.

"Right," said Tonks from Hermione's left. "Everyone ready?"

"Got everything secured?" asked Proudfoot from Malfoy's right.

"Oh Merlin," groaned Hermione squeezing her eyes shut. But then everyone else was shooting off the ground, and she had to go. Her shaky foot pushed from the loose earth and she rocketed towards the sky, letting out a scream as she scrambled to gain control over the speed. Malfoy doubled back so that he was next to her, motioning to her how to adjust her speed and direction, as the wind was whipping loudly and carried all words away. They were climbing higher and higher into the atmosphere, ahead of them were Tonks' unmistakable hair and Proudfoot's jovial laughter. Maxime Madame became a dwarf in their vision as they ascended, and soon she wasn't visible at all, nor was the expansive chateau. It was nothing but the Pyrenees now, vast before them. Hermione desperately wished she could enjoy the sight of them half as much as she did during the carriage ride, but there was no way too sit on a slender piece of wood and feel sturdy.

Malfoy, now assured that Hermione wouldn't plummet back to the earth in a horrifying mess, was taking this time to shoot through the air at full speed, dipping and diving and spinning like he was meant to live in the sky. Hermione watched, apprehensive at first, but the longer she watched maneuver after maneuver, she felt weirdly reassured. If someone was able to do that on a broomstick and not die, then surely she could ride it as she was. Suddenly Malfoy popped up beside her through the fog, riding so closely by her side that their legs were bumping.

"What are you doing?" she cried, none to thrilled with the rockiness that was coming from this situation.

"Just wanted to ask you if you'd like to join me. I can show you what it feels like to do tricks on the broom, and since I know how to do them, you'll be perfectly safe."

"You want me to get on there with you?" shouted Hermione over the wind.

Malfoy shrugged. "Why not?"

"For more reasons than one!" yelled Hermione back. "The main one being I don't want to die!" The other was of course that she didn't trust Malfoy as far as she could throw him to not shove her off. And since when was Malfoy willing to have such close proximity with her?

"Suit yourself!" Malfoy shouted back before spiraling downwards into the mist in a corkscrew pattern. Hermione, desperate not to look down anymore than she had to, sped up only slightly to catch up with Tonks and Proudfoot. The two were so leisurely on their broomsticks, they weren't even holding on with their hands, and seemed to be playing a game of charades in air. Hermione gaped at them. Was everyone mad?

"Hello, Hermione," greeted Tonks with a grin. "Betcha didn't expect me to be here!"

"No," admitted Hermione. "But I'm glad you are. How are things going with Lupin?"

"Swimmingly," replied Tonks. "Couldn't ask for a better husband! But how are things going for you? All I ever hear from anyone is that Draco is a right little git - and I'm related to him! You handling him alright?"

"He's fine," said Hermione, which was the partial truth. He had been fine until she saw him sneaking about. Now she wasn't sure. That brought an idea to mind. "Tonks? Do you think when we've got some free time, you could teach me some spells to detect Dark Magic or artifacts?"

"Of course!" she beamed. "That'll be handy now anyways, since we're looking for traces of Dark magic in the forests."

"And, um... How long of a ride will this be?"

"Don't worry, it's an hour at most," Tonks said reassuringly. "I used to be awful at flying you know; tried to join Hufflepuff Quidditch team and ended up breaking my nose in seven different spots." Somehow, this didn't come as a surprise to Hermione. Malfoy had rejoined the group, and Proudfoot produced something from his pocket.

"Who's on for a seeking match?" he asked mischievously, holding a glimmering golden Snitch in his palm. With that, he and Malfoy sped off into the distance, leaving Hermione still unsteady on her broom and Tonks, who couldn't have very well left her behind.

"They'll probably be at the first camp spot ages before us now," said Tonks approvingly. "Gets us out of having to set up tents, right?"

It wasn't too terribly long before the terrain slowly turned from mountainous to level to mountainous yet again. They were in the Alps now, and these mountains were even more towering than the ones surrounding Beauxbatons. They were jagged and harsh looking, but just as beautiful. It was like how Hermione had imagined the mountains to be in Lord of the Rings. To her massive relief, Tonks began to lead her into a slow descent back to solid ground, and sure enough before them was a huge spread of pure blue water. Lake Geneva. It was absolutely gorgeous, nestled in the jagged Alps valley, little towns twinkling around its edge. But where they were going, there would be no people nearby. Their Firebolts carried them over to a thick expanse of trees, and getting to the ground proved to be quite the challenge as they was hardly a clearing to be seen. Hermione was hit by a branch at least twice before her feet touched down the ground. Oh, the ground, the heavenly ground. Nothing felt better at this moment to her than it, though her legs wobbled uncontrollably as she dismounted.

They began a short trek through the trees, broomsticks carried over their shoulders. Tonks led the way, holding her wand out in her hand as it swiveled like a compass. "Shouldn't be too far, Proudfoot says he knows a good clearing to set up camp in," Tonks said. Hermione was filled with unease as she remembered the real reason they were here - not to play around on broomsticks or to admire the beauty of nature, but to track leads on Dark wizards, a far grimmer prospect. The trees suddenly seemed less wonderful than they did foreboding - someone could easily be hidden behind the leaves, watching them. Tonks seemed to sense Hermione's growing unease, because she said, "Don't be too paranoid, Hermione. We've made sure nobody is lurking more than enough times, and honestly there's no reason for any Dark wizard to still be out here. They'll have all gone back to Karkaroff or scouted out a different area. Ah, I think we're getting close."

It was true, the trees were getting thinner and more light was shining through. Up ahead, they could distinctly hear the voices of Proudfoot and Malfoy, who seemed to be discussing - Quidditch. Honestly, was that all anybody discussed these days? Hermione felt herself wishing she could have a nice lengthy talk with someone about literature, but she doubted Tonks was the bookish type.

"Hey!" yelled Tonks through the trees at the top of her lungs. "If you two are sitting around on your bums and those tents aren't set up, I'll hex you back to Beauxbatons!" On an afterthought, she added, "And really Proudfoot, the Toyohashi Tengu? Have you no national pride?"

When Hermione and Tonks had finally emerged from the trees into a relatively small clearing, Proudfoot and Malfoy were seated on a rock, Firebolts within reach. The tents had been set up, and Proudfoot grinned at the pink-haired witch. "You've missed all the fun! We even set up your tent by hand." To the left of the clearing was a white canvas tent that stood perfectly, every fold of the fabric smooth, every rod that held it up straight. To the right was a horribly sad tent that seemed to be slouching due to lacking self-confidence; it was clear which tent was put up by hand and not magic.

Tonks snorted. "Yeah, right. Come on, Hermione, this one's ours." She scooped up her luggage from the broomstick and hauled it to the tent on the left. The inside was simple, though like most wizarding tents, it had an expansion charm placed on it, so despite the outside appearance looking like it could fit two sleeping bags comfortably, the inside held two foldable cots, a kitchen area with stove, and even a separated room that had both a toilet and a sink with magically running water.

"Proudfoot and I have got to run recon around this area. Do me a favor, will you?" Tonks asked once they had dropped their bags onto their cots. "Madame Maxime says you can place protective enchantments over small areas. Think you can cover the clearing with what you know?"

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Hermione slowly. "Although they're very basic enchantments - if someone did try to get in, they wouldn't have a very hard time of it."

"That's okay," said Tonks, waving it off. "Like I said, there's less than a one percent chance anyone's still out here. The basics will be more than enough."

Back in the clearing, Hermione had equipped her wand in hand and began walking around the perimeter. Tonks and Proudfoot argued for a moment about which direction to head before Proudfoot gave in and followed Tonks to the west. Malfoy stayed stationed on the rock he had sat at earlier, watching Hermione carefully as she enchanted the area. He still, after all, had never gotten the chance to learn any defensive spells, despite Madame Maxime's advice.

"What's going on?" he asked her suddenly.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "I'm putting up protective enchantments, what does it look like?"

"No, not that," said Malfoy, rising from his place on the rock. "I mean, you force me into some civility pact but you've been cold to me for days now."

"Please, Malfoy," said Hermione, oozing with irritation. "I'm not in the mood." She had been cold to him? And he was upset? She had every right to be cold to him, the traitor, going about at night, conducting covert meetings!

"You know what?" seethed Malfoy. "I'm glad you're back to your senses. Now we don't have to pretend like we're anything alike anymore. God, how exhausting it at was getting!"

"I'm so sorry you feel that way!" said Hermione with biting sarcasm as she whirled around to face him. "Please, by all means, go back to acting entitled and superior, Merlin knows you never stopped feeling it!"

"You don't have any clue how I feel, Granger, no clue whatsoever!" shouted Malfoy. "Always thinking you know everything - but I assure you, you don't know the smallest bit about me!"

"What is there to know?" She was screaming now too. "You've gone out of your way for six years to make me feel small, just so you can feel better, you've got a father who believes himself to be higher than the law and other people, and you were raised to be the exact same way!"

"That's it then, Granger? All your analyzations of me over the past few weeks led you to exactly who you thought I was from the start?" His tone was empty now, calm to the point of dangerous. "I'm tired of trying to prove myself to everyone. Here I was thinking you would be able to understand. Silly me. I'm going for a walk."

Hermione watched as the silver-blond head faded into the trees until it was no longer visible. She felt guilt like lead in her stomach. They were back to the start, and she was solely responsible.

A/N: I promise I'm not trying to procrastinate from the romance part of the story! It's all according to plan, I swear. Thanks for reading!