Chapter twenty-five:
"Oblivated me? Why in Hell would anyone oblivate me? How dare you!" Hermione hissed. Her face was all red from the anger. "And how do you know my name?!"
The man rested his head in his hands and sighed.
"Stop playing games with me, won't you? I may have been a fool, but I am not bloody stupid." Hermione studied the man closely; his hair was obviously dyed. It was a mixture of brown and blonde, it looked quite interesting, actually. His eyes were piercing blue, more blue than she had ever seen a pair of eyes be before. Well, except Draco of course...
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"Malfoy!" she said, and wondered how she could not have seen it before. It was obviously him, he had just dyed his hair. And there was something else different about him..
"Took you long enough. Honestly 'Mione, I haven't changed a bit." A smirk appeared on his face.
"Your hair. And.. Did you get a tan?" she asked. That was probably another reason why, she had not recognised him straight away; his skin that used to be so pale as snow, now looked as if he had spent the last months under the sun.
"Well spotted. Just came home from Thailand, you see," Draco explained. His gaze was no longer on Hermione, but on the copy of the Daily Prophet, that he had brought along.
"How did you even recognise me?"
"Come on, 'Mione. I used to be in love with you, remember? And you haven't changed a bit," Draco said with a smirk. "Except the ring on your finger, of course. That's new." Draco pointed at Hermione's wedding ring. She had meant to leave it at home.
"After what I hear you will be wearing one, too, soon."
Hermione had expected Draco to frown, but instead he just smiled.
"Indeed I am, yes. I'm a very lucky man."
Hermione could not help but think that if she had made some other decisions in her youth, it could have been her Draco was marrying soon. But it wasn't, and for that she was glad. He seemed just as much a git as he had been back then. Some things just never change.
"And what a lucky woman," Hermione said with a hint of disbelief in her voice.
"Did I just sense some sarcasm there? Or was it perhaps jealousy?"
Hermione stood up from her seat and pointed a finger at Draco.
"How could I even be jealous of a woman marrying you? You might think you've changed, but guess what, you're just the same idiot you were back then. And I keep trying to run away from my past, but it chases me down every time. I could've lived perfectly without having to see your ugly face once more!" she yelled. Draco sat back with wide open eyes. He had not seen that outburst coming; bloody hell, he had no idea Hermione had that a temper! Well, except back then when she had thrown a fist into his face and broken his nose. Draco still remembered the pain very well – the same pain he had caused Harry Potter in their sixth year on the train. Draco almost regretted that action. Almost.
"I can leave if you want me to," Draco suggested.
"Does it feel like I want you to stay?" Hermione was sitting down again, trying to be calm.
"Excellent point."
Draco picked up his trunk, and opened the door to leave the cabinet, but in the same moment a train-conductor, a female with short and brown hair, appeared. She had one of those smiles on her face – the obviously fake one. She probably smiled at every passenger, and therefore got sick of it.
"Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs, but we are having a minor problem, and I will therefore ask you to please remain calm and stay in your cabinet."
Before either could protest the woman left again. Draco took place opposites Hermione, and put a fake smile on his lips, too.
"Guess we're stuck."
"Minor problem, my arse," Hermione spat to herself.
"Watch your mouth, Granger. It doesn't suit you."
"Don't Granger me, please!"
"Sorry, 'Mione."
Hermione was too tired to get angry over her old nickname – Draco's old nickname for her. No one else had ever spoken it, except him.
"Now that we're stuck anyway, why don't you tell me how exciting your life is right now?" Draco asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Exciting is not the word, Malfoy," she spoke in sarcasm.
"Hey, if I can't call you Granger, then you sure as hell can't Malfoy me!"
"I'm sorry, I suppose."
Silence fled in for a minute or two. Neither looked at each other; Hermione focused on Draco's shiny and black leather shoes.
"Exciting is not the word, eh? What is then?"
Hermione did not want to tell him about her boring, repeating life. She was sure that whatever she said he would have something to top it with. Why even bother. So she just remained silent.
All of a sudden the train stopped. Both Hermione and Draco glared outside the window to see if they already were at the final destination. But they could see nothing but grass and sky. Never ending grass and sky. It was hard to tell whether they had even left England yet. None of them said a word, they just looked at each other with frightened looks on their faces. Then the lights went out, and mumble fled through the train. Children were crying, some people were yelling.. It reminded Hermione terribly a lot of when dementors had searched the Hogwarts Express in third year. But it couldn't be dementors, could it? No. This was a Muggle train. They wouldn't risk that much. Also, Hermione would know if the dementors had any reason to search trains and people like this. A voice all of a sudden spoke through the speakers, which made Hermione jump back in her seat of surprise.
"We are terribly sorry for this little accident, but we happen to be, er, broken down. You'll be spending the night on a local hotel as we try to fix it."
Panic spread across Hermione's face. Spend. The. Night. ?
Slowly all the passengers were lead out of the train and into the grass mark. A conductor counted them and spoke aloud their names. Both Draco and Hermione enjoyed that for ones no one were turning faces as soon as they heard their names.
Because they were stuck in the middle of no where they had to walk their way into the town, which Hermione found out was a small-town close to Carlisle, just before Scotland. She made sure that she was walking dozen of metres away from Draco. The last twenty minutes were running through her head like a 100-metre sprinter. What was Draco Malfoy doing on that train? It didn't matter, though. She would spend the night on a hotel, and then head towards Scotland early next morning, where she would spend her next few days. Without Malfoy. That was the plan.
After nearly an hour of walking with only fields in sight, the group of travellers finally arrived in the town. It looked just like something that was ripped out of a vintage, cowboy comic-book. The town was so small, that if you looked far enough to your right or left you would find the end of it. The few buildings were a sherif office, a doctor practice, a cheap-looking hotel, and, of course, a bar. Hermione looked around her in disbelief, and celebrated by herself, that she would only stay for the night. With a sigh she entered the motel along with the other train-passengers. The inside of the motel was not much better than the outside. The entire motel was build of dark brown wood, which gave it a kind of treehouse feeling. The smell of trees and vomit attacked Hermione's nose. She was just about to fall back over, when the owner of the place handed her a key to the room she would be staying in. Hermione took it and hurried up the fragile stairs, two flights, and threw her suitcase into her room without even taking a glare at it. She locked the door, and went straight back downstairs and out in the fresh air. She located the bar next to the motel, and went in. A cold Muggle beer was exactly what she needed to survive the evening. The entrance to the bar was exactly like in the old Western. Hermione took a stool and ordered a Black Velvet - a mix of beer and champagne.
"Thirsty, 'Mione?" Draco spoke from the stool next to her. Hermione sighed.
"Tailing me, Malfoy?" No matter how much he protested, she would always call him that. It came natural.
"You wish." Draco was drinking a Guinness. Next to it was an already empty glass. She wasn't the only one drowning her miserableness with alcohol. "Not fancying the town either?" he laughed. "Makes you miss Hogsmeade a lot, doesn't it?" Draco took another sip. "Have a lot of good memories there." Hermione knew he was referring to their date in Hogmeade years ago. Back when Draco had pretended to get drunk only to kiss her and tell her about his secret mission for Voldemort.
"I have no idea how she does it," Hermione finally said, and got up from her stool.
"Who?"
"Astoria. I have no idea how she stands you."