A/N: Keepin' it rollin' with the quick updates. And yes, this qualifies as a quick updates for me, as anyone who follows my stories knows by now (sorry...).
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine. Only the plot is mine.
"Where are we?" Hermione looked around, surprised to find that she suddenly found herself standing on a boat. The water around her was crystal clear, and she could just make out a small house on the distant beach.
"You don't know?" Malfoy asked. Hermione turned around to see him sitting next to the steering wheel, though the boat wasn't moving aside from the gentle bobbing over the small, calm waves. He didn't look as disheveled as usual; his hair was freshly cut, and his plain black pants and white button-down shirt were devoid of stains or wrinkles.
"I can't remember..."
"That's ironic," Malfoy said, looking amused.
Hermione looked around again, but the scene was unfamiliar to her, and she had no recollection of even getting on the boat.
"I can't believe you don't know," Malfoy said with a laugh. "Considering you're the reason we're here."
"I am?" Hermione asked, trying to think what she had done to land them in this mystery place. He laughed again at her confusion."Why are you laughing at me?"
"I'm just appreciating the fact that you aren't in control for once."
"What?" Hermione asked, even more confused.
"Well," he started, standing up. "You're always the one telling me what to do, what's going on, what you think I should do, and so on and whatever. I'm getting quite sick of it."
"What?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I mean, I don't – what do you mean?"
"You keep asking me why I can't believe that you think I'm any good and getting upset about it," he pointed out, stepping up to her. "And you expect me to stop doubting you."
"I'm just trying to help you-"
"But how can I believe it when you always look at me like a helpless charity case?"
Hermione was taken aback. "I didn't-"
"Every time you tell me you believe in me," he started, sounding frustrated. "It's like you're saying it to a child, and you look at me like you think I am one."
"I don't think you're a child!" Hermione insisted patiently. "And I don't mean to look at you like you are one!"
"Really? 'Cause you're doing it right now."
Hermione tried to work her expression, but it was hard to do when she wasn't even sure what it looked like before.
"That hard to not do it?" Malfoy sighed angrily. "Good to know."
"Look, I don't think of you as a child!" Hermione said again.
"Then what do you think of me as?"
Hermione studied his face, which was both frustrated and curious. "A friend, I guess."
"You guess?" he asked sarcastically.
"Well, what do you want me to think of you as?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.
"You don't know?" he asked quietly.
"Clearly, I know very little," Hermione said, gesturing to the scene around her.
"I can't believe you don't know," Malfoy said, stepping closer to her.
"Yes, I'm stupid, I get it," Hermione said peevishly. "But pointing it out isn't very helpful, you know."
"Do you think it's time I enlighten you?" he asked, now only a few inches from her.
Before Hermione could respond, he was kissing her, one hand gripping her waist and the other the side of her face. His lips were gently but insistent, and Hermione needed no further persuasion. Without realizing what she was doing, Hermione wound her arms around his neck, falling into the kiss without a thought, kissing him back as insistently as he kissed her.
After what felt like much too short a time, Malfoy had pulled back and moved his lips to her ear.
"I hope you're ready, Granger."
Confused and disappointed, Hermione opened her eyes, but Malfoy was gone, and she was suddenly standing on the beach outside of the house she had spotted from the boat.
Hermione's eyes snapped open. She was breathing so hard she was nearly panting, and she seemed frozen in the fetal position she had curled into sometime during the night.
She stared at her closet door, trying to get her breathing back to normal. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, giving her head a little shake in an attempt to get her dream out of her thoughts. She rolled onto her back, eyes still shut, and stretched her legs out. Almost at once she caught the scent of cigarette smoke.
Hermione opened her eyes again, and sure enough, Malfoy was sitting up next to her on the bed.
"You were twitching," he said around his cigarette. "Bad dream?"
Hermione felt her cheeks immediately start to flame. "Um, maybe...I don't really remember it," she lied, sitting up. "How long have you been up?"
"A bit," he shrugged. He must have discarded his jacket at some point, as he now sat just in his wrinkled Oxford and black slacks.
"Oh," Hermione replied vaguely. She didn't even remember falling asleep, let alone falling asleep conscious of the fact that Malfoy was still in her bed. At the thought, Hermione felt herself blush anew.
"I didn't mean to stay over."
"It's fine," Hermione said a little too quickly. "I mean, I didn't even notice."
"Too busy having twitchy dreams?"
"Um..."
"I'm going to clear out," he stated, mercifully ignoring her awkwardness and sliding off the bed. "Addison might think I've offed myself."
"Yeah." Hermione cleared her throat. "I know he was worried."
"I know, I know," Malfoy waved an annoyed hand as he picked his jacket up off the floor. "Everyone's always worried about me. I'm getting quite sick of it."
Hermione's reply caught in her throat at his last words. "Wh-what did you say?"
"Nothing," he said dismissively, taking a drag as he walked towards her bedroom door.
"Oh," Hermione mumbled, trying to mask the look of shock and confusion on her face as he turned to look at her before he walked out.
"Are you okay?" he asked. She obviously hadn't done a very good job.
Hermione nodded mutely.
Malfoy studied her for a second before continuing. "Well, see you."
"Yeah, see you.
He hesitated at the door for another moment. "And thanks again."
Hermione nodded again awkwardly, and he was gone.
Hermione didn't see him for the rest of the day. She wasn't entirely surprised when she got home from work and he wasn't waiting at her door; she expected he wanted some time alone. While she hoped he was trying to cope in a healthy manner, she couldn't help but remember but remember how he had tried coping the night before, via hard liquor and drunken kisses.
As she entered her apartment, Hermione felt a little relieved that he was taking time to himself for a bit, as she needed some for herself.
She absentmindedly dropped her things on the counter as she walked to the couch, thankfully throwing herself onto it and sighed heavily.
Quite frankly, she was freaked out.
Dreams, Hermione knew, were often based on reality; she had had countless dreams of the last battle at Hogwarts, along with other memories from the challenging years at Hogwarts. However, dreams were always weird, unrealistic, and senseless. Forgettable, as well; Hermione usually only recalled a few vague elements from her dreams after she awoke, and tended to not think of them past her morning cup of coffee.
Hermione remembered every detail from her dream that night. That never happened, and yet she could vividly recall the clarity of the ocean water, the movement of the boat over the gentle waves, the house on the beach, the feel of being wrapped up in Malfoy, and how completely real it all felt. If that weren't enough, it was Malfoy uttering a measly six words had successfully put her on edge all day.
I'm getting quite sick of it.
Coincidence. That had been Hermione's first, desperate attempt to write it all off. She had dithered about the bookshelves of her store, pretending to check Merlin knows what, trying to convince herself it was a coincidence.
But the contexts had been too similar for Hermione too ignore. Moreover, the bitter tone of Malfoy's voice was identical to his delivery within the dream. Hermione had then decided that it was one of those times where a dream was based in reality – dream Malfoy had said that because real Malfoy felt it. That explained the dream kiss as well; Hermione had been thinking about it before she fell asleep, so the thought had obviously simply carried into her dream. Dreams with a few parallels to life weren't uncommon, Hermione reasoned, so a few commonalities didn't mean much of anything
And yet...Hermione couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Everything Malfoy had said was said in complete awareness of real life. More disturbing though, was the location. She briefly thought of the tropical setting, the small house on the beach...No, Hermione shook her head. It couldn't be.
As if sensing her discomfort, Crookshanks leaped onto her stomach, settling down across her torso.
Hermione scratched behind his ears, comforted by the warm purring against her stomach.
"Tomorrow," Hermione told the cat, "things will be back to normal."
He didn't show up the next day.
Though she had expected him to, Hermione wasn't totally unsurprised. Malfoy hadn't had a great relationship with his father, and his mixed emotions were probably a lot to sort through.
Tomorrow he'll be here, Hermione thought as she approached her lonely apartment door after work. Tomorrow.
Hermione stayed home from work the next day, fully expecting him to show up.
But he didn't.
The next day Hermione sat at her small kitchen table for most of the day, distractedly reading old books and looking up at the door expectantly (and, if she were being honest with herself, hopefully) every time she thought she heard footsteps in the hall, sagging with annoyance (and, if she were again being honest with herself, disappointment).
But there was no knock that day.
Hermione woke up resolved the next morning. If he didn't show up to her flat by noon that she was going to his place.
She wasn't worried per se, but knowing Malfoy's history of questionable mental stability, not knowing what he'd been doing the past few days was gnawing at her insides.
He could be destroying his room again, sucking down half the liquor in Britain while doing so. But Hermione thought the possibility of this was slim; Addison would have called her like he had before.
He could just be laying in bed, motionlessly staring at the ceiling in abject misery. Hermione felt a pang in her heart at the thought, but she didn't think that was very likely, either. His attitude after the funeral and the next morning hadn't suggested imminent zombie-like depression.
More likely, he could be at his mother's house. He had expressed some guilt at leaving her along after the funeral, after all, so he very well might have wanted to make up for it.
For a brief moment, Hermione selfishly wondered if his absence had something to do with her. Perhaps he was embarrassed. Maybe regretful, ashamed, or horrified at how he'd acted towards her that night. Maybe he felt all of those things. Hermione quickly pushed the unpleasant thought out of her mind; Malfoy had more important things to deal with.
Once it hit noon, Hermione marched out of her apartment, opting to go to Malfoy's place by foot in case she ran into him on the way.
She didn't, though she hadn't expected him to, just as she hadn't expected him to show up when she woke up that morning.
"Hey, Hermione," Addison greeted her at the door. "He's upstairs."
"Thanks," Hermione said, stepping through the doorway and shutting the door behind her. "How's he been?"
"You haven't seen him?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not since the day after the funeral."
"Oh," Addison seemed a little surprised by this. "He's been out every day since, I just assumed he was with you."
Hermione shook her head, perplexed.
"Huh. Well, have at it, then."
She nodded before setting off up the stairs, her heart starting to beat a little faster in anticipation. Hermione briefly wondered why she was so anxious, but she didn't dwell on it as she approached his door, which was slightly ajar.
Hermione peeked in. Malfoy was sitting at his desk, sorting through a small stack of papers. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he separated three slightly smaller pieces of paper from the rest of the stack.
Hermione lightly knocked on the door to announce her presence.
He looked up from his papers. The concentration slipped from his expression when he saw her, though the blank look it was replaced with was disconcerting.
"Hey," Hermione said, pulling the door open a little more.
"Do you need something?"
Hermione was taken aback by the annoyance in his voice, though his expression didn't change. "I – I hadn't seen you in a while. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright."
At the last part, Malfoy's expression darkened. "Figures." He stood up, though he didn't move towards her. "Well I'm fine."
It was a dismissal, and Hermione felt her eyes start to burn with the threat of tears brought on by complete, frustrating confusion. She fought them back, her eyes going to the papers on his table. "What are you working on?"
"Nothing that concerns you," he said blankly, stepping so as to block her view.
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
When he realized she wasn't leaving, annoyance flitted across Malfoy's face. "Look, I'm busy."
It was another dismissal, though Hermione ignored it "What have you been up to?" Hermione demanded, craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse of his papers.
"Nothing," he said blankly, though his arm gave an involuntary twitch.
Hermione's gaze travelled down his arm, and she was shocked to see that he'd been gripping his wand. "Is that...?"
"Yes," he replied, having followed her gaze. He held it up in front of his face, gazing at it for a moment. "Figured it was about time to break it out again," he continued, before pointing it directly at her heart.
Hermione froze, her eyes widening. "What are you doing?" she asked in a quavering voice.
"I used to dream about this," Malfoy said bitterly, ignoring her. "Having Hermione Granger on the wrong end of my wand. I used to want that so bad."
Hermione felt a sense of dread wash over her. In all her deliberation, she hadn't once considered that Malfoy had been up to anything sinister. But staring at the tip of his wand only a few inches of her face was causing all sort of horrible scenarios to flash through her head.
"And now all I want is to erase the memory of the look on her face when she thought I was going to curse her," Malfoy sighed, his blank expression finally breaking into one of disappointment as he lowered his wand.
Hermione let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Wh-what?"
"Didn't take much did it?"
"Well what did you expect?" Hermione asked angrily. "You weren't exactly welcoming."
"I know," he said, slipping his wand into his pocket.
"So?" Hermione asked expectantly. "What's with the surliness?"
"You surprised me," he replied. "I was supposed to surprise you."
"What?"
"What I've been doing these days," he said, gesturing to the papers on his desk. "I was working on something for you."
Hermione took a few steps towards the desk, eyeing the papers.
Malfoy picked up the smaller slips he had separated and handed them to her.
"I hope you're ready, Granger."
Hermione froze again, staring at him in shock for a moment before forcing her eyes down to the paper, though she knew in the pit of her stomach what the papers were.
Plane tickets.
To Australia.
A/N: Heh, sorry about the mild fake-out with the wand there. Actually I'm not, I thought it was fun. So was the dream. Ohhh, that was cool to write up.
Questions? Comments? Concerns? Gloating over correct suspicions/guesses?