The strength in Hermione's words matched her feelings, however as the week ticked by, she felt her confidence erode. What kind of monster could hurt Draco, make his grey eyes grow paralyzed with fear? By Saturday morning she was exhausted, her nights haunted by dreams of cruel specters and a growing unease that Hermione was too sleep-deprived to decide if it was legitimate foreboding, or a body pushed to paranoia by sheer exertion.
Draco was picking her up at four, he had texted her earlier, but she hadn't seen him since he had told her about dinner, he had been at lacrosse camp all week. Reselecting her outfit for the millionth time, she paced and worried. Catching sight of her fearful eyes and knit brow in the mirror she sighed, forcing herself to relax. It was two-thirty, almost time to get dressed. Her mother had promised to make a pie for Hermione to bring over and she could smell the delicious scent of peach pie drifting upstairs. If nothing else, at least she would get to eat some of her mother's incredible pie tonight. The thought made her laugh, what was she so afraid of? What could he do to her? She felt bolstered by this idea, rebellious even.
It carried her until she found herself on her porch, pie balanced in her hands, twilight already beginning to fall. A breeze tugged at the hem of her dress, sending her hair dancing in the wind. It was peaceful out here, a pale moon hanging in the purple-streaked sky. She felt perfectly content for a whole moment, leaning against the porch railing, listening to the leaves whisper to one another on the trees. Autumn was here now, richly colorful but tinged with the sorrowful longing that comes with a hopeless convalescence. Winter would be along soon, stripping the leaves and covering the landscape in a heavy blanket of nightfall and ice. Now though, the air still carried the last warm vestiges of summer, which seemed to envelop her in a sense of assured peace. Headlights flashed at the end of her street and she knew it was Draco. He pulled up in front of the house and hopped out of the car. She stood there watching him, a smile pulling at her lips as he dramatically swept her car door open.
"Your chariot awaits, mi'lady." He said as she skipped down the steps towards him. "What is THAT? Is that a pie?" He asked, his voice rapturous.
She laughed. "Hands off." Then she smiled deviously at him. "The pie anyways." She added, her eyes sparkling devilishly.
He lunged for her waist but she slid into the car and waved at him as he slammed her door shut in mock defeat. Hermione watched him, as she always did, as he got in the driver's seat and pulled out onto the street. She was quiet until they rolled to a stop at a red light. Then she reached out and swept a lock of his hair from his forehead, revealing a furrowed brow beneath. She smoothed his brow and leaned against his shoulder.
"You-we, are going to be fine. Some people consider me very charming." She laughed, hoping to calm him. He didn't respond and Hermione gazed at him worriedly. "Do you want to do this? I could say I'm sick." She volunteered but Draco shook his head and drove on.
The houses were growing larger and farther apart now. This was very different from the cozy turn of the century homes that marked the unofficial "Professor's row" Hermione lived on. These houses were mostly nouveau riche McMansions, gazing airily over their sprawl with an almost palpable sense of insecurity. Hermione wondered which of these driveways he would turn into, but still he drove on.
Forest replaced the houses now and Hermione began to wonder where they were going. Just as she was working up the courage to ask, Draco turned the car sharply into what she initially had not recognized as a driveway. He halted at a large, wrought iron gate and pressed some code into a keypad. The gate rumbled open and he drove up a silent drive towards an immense house. This house was not a McMansion. Hermione stared in awe as he parked in the circular drive and turned off the car. The house was enormous, built in a lavish manner only a late 19th Century robber baron could have dreamt of.
She turned back to look at Draco but her Draco, soft-eyed, funny, charming, seemed to have vanished. The boy in the seat next to her was all shadows and anger, indeed he resembled a blonde satan and for the first time ever, she felt fear as she looked at him.