Chapter 9

Someone had placed a full body-bind curse on Cho. Someone had set her down by the pile of firewood. Someone had lit a fire. They did this wordlessly. Sitting near the warmth of the pit. Spearing a rabbit. Cooking. Eating.

"I'm still hungry," Luna said, licking her fingers after she took the last bite of her rabbit meat, and then popping a cranberry into her mouth and instantly grimacing at its sour taste.

Malfoy looked at her pointedly.

Hermione sighed. "I know what you mean, Luna. I could go for days eating berries and weeds. But as soon as we have a semi-substantial meal, I feel like I could eat a horse."

Malfoy glanced over at her and then blinked toward the stunned body of Cho.

Nott cleared his throat. "The protein from the rabbit will keep us going for a while."

"It was a fat one," Neville said, munching down joyously on his chunk of meat. "Theo and I are getting better at hunting. We almost got a deer today."

"Almost doesn't count," Ron grumbled.

"Don't see you chasing dinner, Weasley," Malfoy shot back.

"That's because I've been building a fucking roof over your head, you wanker!" Ron rounded on Malfoy.

"Took you all goddamn day to pile a bunch of branches over some sticks?" Malfoy growled.

"Give it a rest," Hermione sighed.

Malfoy turned to her. "Which one of us?"

Hermione gave him a stony glance but didn't say anything else.

Neville rubbed his hands along his trousers, wiping rabbit juice from his fingers. He sighed and stared grimly into the fire. "What are we going to do about Cho?"

"What gets me," Ron said, sucking on his thumb to get the last bit of grease from under his nail, "is that she just snapped. One minute she was fine and the next – she went totally bonkers."

"Mm-hmm," Hermione nodded, gazing blankly into the fire. "Peculiar. Like a sleeper agent."

"What's a sleeper agent?" Luna's dreamy voice carried over the flames of the fire.

"It's a spy," Hermione said. "A spy who assimilates with a group until he or she is activated to carry out a mission."

"She's not a sleeper agent," Malfoy waved a dismissive hand. "She's Imperiused. It's obvious."

Hermione turned to face him again, leaning forward to look around Ron who sat next to her on the log. "It doesn't make sense. If she'd been Imperiused to kill us or – or even Ginny for that matter – she would have attempted it right away. As soon as she came upon us. She waited, Malfoy. Waited for opportunity."

"She could have been instructed to wait," Malfoy said.

"Malfoy, unless they're literally watching us, they don't know our situation. That Ginny's injured. How many of us there are. Nothing. Imperius Curse instructions must be very specific. This is something else."

"What else could it be?" Ron furrowed his eyebrows, glancing in her direction.

She shook her head. "I've no idea."

"They'd know about Ginny," Nott said quietly.

Neville nodded. "They have our people. Any one of them could have said something. Everybody knew she was in rough shape."

Nott had his hand over the bottom half of his face. He rubbed his fingers through the stubble on his cheeks, vacantly scratching at it. He sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees and bringing his palms together in front of his mouth; he was thinking.

Ron kneaded his temple. "If we don't know what's wrong with her, then – how do we fight something we don't know?"

Nott lifted his gaze toward Malfoy and shifted his jaw slightly. He let out a slow breath and looked away again. That was the extent of their interaction and yet Malfoy seemed to grasp exactly what he'd meant. Malfoy sucked in his lips into a tight smile, let out an abrasive sound that may have been a chuckle. "You seem to have read my mind, Nott," he said savagely.

Hermione glanced at Nott reluctantly – she hadn't looked at him all evening. Nott was back to staring at Malfoy.

Then, Malfoy stood abruptly. He walked around the log they were sitting on toward Cho's stupefied body and pulled out his wand.

"What are you doing?" Hermione jumped up, putting herself between Malfoy and the pile of firewood – between Malfoy and Cho.

Malfoy gave her a hostile look. "Taking first watch," he said gruffly.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously before stepping aside.

"It's about time for desert," Luna said, producing a handful of crumpled flower petals from a pocket in her corduroy pants.

"Is that a moonflower?" Ron craned his neck to inspect the contents in her hand.

"Luna, why do you always have drugs?" Malfoy blinked at her in amusement.

Luna shrugged. "Oh, you know," she said, "I just keep them in my back pocket."

Malfoy began to chuckle, remembering his words to her the first time she offered him psychotropics.

"Moonflower?" Neville said skeptically.

"Jimsonweed," Luna said.

"Thorn apple," Nott chimed in.

"Devil's trumpet," Malfoy added.

"It's a species in the nightshade family, actually," Hermione said. "Datura stramonium."

Nott smirked while Malfoy turned to her, saying, "Why, thank you, professor."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and added, "Colloquially known as hell's bells."

"Colloquially known as a good time," Luna smiled broadly.

"Who are you?" Malfoy gaped back at Luna.

"Are you in or are you in?" Luna winked at him.

"Tempting," he said. "But I've got first watch. This one, on the other hand," he grasped Hermione's arm and brought her forward, "she's definitely in."

"I am most certainly not in!" Hermione exclaimed, wriggling out of his grasp.

"I'm in!" Ron got up from his log. "Neville?"

Neville grimaced. "I think I'll check on Harry and Ginny. See how they're doing in there." He eyed the darkness at the edge of the clearing where the huts dissolved into the forest.

"They're fine, Longbottom," Malfoy said. "Let them get reacquainted." Seeing Hermione flinch at his words, Malfoy added, "I'm sure Ginny's sleeping, anyway."

Neville hesitated but Ron held out his arm down to him. "C'mon, Neville," he said.

Neville appeared reluctant but grasped Ron's forearm, nonetheless.

"Weasley," Malfoy called, as they started for the forest. Ron turned his head to look at him. Malfoy's face contorted slightly. "Thank you, Weasley," he said.

Hermione stared up at Malfoy.

"For what?" Ron said, looking just as taken aback as Hermione felt.

Malfoy glared at him, apparently not pleased at having to elaborate. "You saved my life, Weasley. With Cho." Then he pushed some hair out of his face and looked away, "Probably, anyway."

Ron watched him evenly, his gaze shifting toward Hermione, who shrugged at him, and back to Malfoy again. "Don't mention it," he said finally.

…

Around here is where the story gets fuzzy. I think about it considerably, I have to admit. Trying to piece together everyone's accounts. Everyone's emotions. Everyone's motives. I go back and forth, deciding who is telling the most truth. The trouble is, it could be nobody.

I must look distraught, sitting there at our regular table, my summer skirt flowing in the breeze, massaging my head, methodically digging my thumb into the pain radiating from my temple. I lean into it with a couple of knuckles, trying to alleviate the migraine, pressing my hand into the inside of my brow bone. I haven't slept, you see.

"Something on your mind, little lady?" he says, sliding into the chair across from me. He scans my face with a concerned expression.

I don't deserve his compassion. I sigh. "Just a headache."

He leans back in his seat and continues to examine me from across the table. "You get them often?" he says.

I stifle a laugh. "I don't need a check-up, Dr. Nott. I'm fine."

His eyebrows are still knotted when he takes a pack of cigarettes out of the inside pocket of his leather jacket. "You are aware that heads are my specialty," he says around the cigarette, squinting at me over the lighter that he brings to its tip.

I give him a tight smile. "Yes," I say, "I am aware." I am aware. I am more aware than he knows.

…

Nott rose from his log after the others took off into the forest. "Can I talk to you?" Hermione heard him say in a low voice behind her. His fingers brushed the back of her arm, just below her elbow.

She didn't turn to him right away, her eyes still locked on Malfoy's face as he lifted his gaze to look behind her at Nott. Malfoy raised his eyebrows, his eyes sliding from Nott's face to Hermione's. He watched her for another few moments before walking past her toward Cho.

When she didn't respond, Nott walked around to face her, his hand still on her arm.

"Not now, Theo," she said.

She began to walk away toward the shelters.

"Did she just –" Malfoy began, turning to face Nott with a curious expression. "Did she just call you Theo?"

Nott shrugged. "It's about time we were on a first name basis."

Malfoy grimaced. "Please don't elaborate."

Nott shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned at Malfoy uneasily. "You don't mind, then?"

"Mind what?" Malfoy said, suddenly busying himself with restacking the firewood. "You and Granger getting friendly? Why would I mind?"

Nott sighed, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. "You're a dreadful liar, Draco."

"Listen," Malfoy straightened his back and turned toward him, his eyes finally landing on Nott's face. "I couldn't care less who you shack up with, much less who Granger is fucking."

"We're not fucking," Nott said placidly.

Malfoy studied his face for a few moments. "Well," he said quietly, "what are you waiting for?"

"You seem upset," Nott said.

Malfoy began to chuckle. "I mean, don't expect me to be cordial with her now that she's your side piece."

Nott cracked a half smile. "Wouldn't dream of it, brother."

…

The clouds above the patio are gathering, the hot air thickens, the day darkens.

"Looks like rain," he says.

"That would explain the headache."

He pushes the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray sitting beside him on the table. "We better relocate."

I look up at him in surprise. I've never been anywhere with Theodore Nott other than the Grey Goat Bar and Grill patio. That was the arrangement. Let it be known that I am not the one who disrupted this arrangement. "We better," I agree, quickly – before he has a chance to reconsider.

…

And there it was. The first snow. She saw it flutter downward outside the hut as she laid herself down on the brush, as she began to spread a layer of fern over her legs. Suddenly she smelt its freshness, felt its sting in her nostrils. The ground was cold enough, she thought, that it would certainly start to settle. She loved the snow, normally. But not now, not here.

"I think you've got a point," Nott said, peeking his head into the shelter where Hermione was settling in for the night.

She lifted her head from the brush when she heard his voice. "Theo, I'm trying to sleep."

Nott was already stepping inside. "May I?"

Hermione sighed loudly and lifted herself up into a sitting position. "Why bother asking?" she said in exasperation.

"I think it's something else," he said. "Cho, that is. She's not Imperiused."

Hermione frowned. "What's wrong with her, then?"

He shook his head. "Don't know."

Hermione blinked at him in the darkness. "What a useful piece of information you've imparted. So glad you stopped by."

"Hermione –"

"Don't."

"Hermione, I know you're upset."

"Upset?" Hermione's voice grew louder.

Nott glanced behind his back at the opening behind him and put a finger over his mouth, signifying for her to speak quieter.

She lowered her voice and continued in a hiss. "Upset doesn't begin to cover it."

"I'm sorry," he whispered back. "I don't know what came over me. But we need to clear the air."

"Alright then, let's clear it," Hermione leaned forward in anger. "How could you?"

Nott had nothing to say.

"How could you do that?"

Nott sat in silence for another few seconds before retaliating. "I'll admit that I'm at fault, here, Granger, but let's not pretend you're innocent in this."

"What are you talking about?" she whispered feverishly, shuffling herself closer to him. "What did I do?"

Nott recoiled slightly as she moved toward him and nearly toppled backward before catching himself with his hand on the floor. "You kissed me back," he said.

"What?" she said, taken aback. "I'm not talking about that!"

Nott's face moved upward in the darkness. "What are you talking about, then?"

"You pushed me! Away from the fight!"

"I didn't want you to get hurt."

Hermione glared at him. "I had a wand."

"So did Cho."

"You didn't."

Nott sucked in a long breath. "I wasn't thinking, Hermione. It just happened. I didn't mean to offend you." He was looking at her with an earnest expression. "Obviously, I know you can take care of yourself."

"Theo," she said quietly, "I was trying to protect my friend."

Nott reached out with his hand to lay it on top of hers. "So was I," he said.

…

We settle our bill just as the first of the rain comes. It'll be one of those torrential downpours – I can tell by how quickly it escalates. He grabs my hand as we're making our way out, just as the rain begins to beat harder.

We're running down the street, soaking, of course, and cackling at our failure to evade the storm. Somewhere in the distance, lightning illuminates the murky skyline, thunder rolls, as if erupting from underfoot. And he pulls me aside – into a slender alley between buildings – as we nearly trip on the cobblestones, our quick steps sending splashes outward, water seeping through our shoes. He slips me under a narrow roof, onto a patch of dry land. It's only big enough for one of us. He stands there, under the rain, looking at me and laughing, as the water pours over his face.

I can't. I close my eyes. I can't. I can't. But then, my train of thought evolves. It's not I can't. It can't. It can't be. It can't be.

…

Hermione lifted her hand to grasp his. He moved closer. She felt his fingers brushing her shoulder as they slid up behind her neck and into the knot in her hair. His hand was firm on the back of her head, pulling her in.

"Theo," she breathed into his face, "is this wise?"

He smiled against her mouth, "The wisest."

It was his teeth that she felt first. They grazed over the inside of her bottom lip before his lips took over resolutely. His hand slipped, faltered, stilled, moved to the front of her neck. There, it lingered for a while, his thumb gliding up and down, as if staying itself from travelling elsewhere.

…

When I open my eyes again, I've already made a decision. It seems that he has too. He's standing closer. Almost close enough to be in my rainless patch. He's still smiling crookedly as his face nears mine, like he's amused by something he'd rather not share.

His lifts his arm to place his palm on the brick wall behind my head. "You're drenched." Old cigarette smoke flavours his breath, floats with his words. I can smell its stale essence on his skin. It dizzies me.

"Yeah," I breathe, hoarse and jittery, catching the water trickling over my mouth with my bottom lip. "I'm so fucking wet."

He chuckles over my face.

I blink up at him and gasp, my face flushing so terribly that it is undoubtedly emanating heat. I clear my throat. "My – my clothes," I say, grasping a handful of my soaking shirt. I wring the material to show him just how wet it is – the water from it drips onto his shoe.

He comes closer. "I know what you meant," he says softly somewhere above my face. His breath washes over my forehead, flutters some loose hairs on my head.

I know that I won't hurt him. I won't hurt him like she did. But that's not what this is about.

…

She shifted closer, allowing his other hand to take her waist, bring her in. They rose to their knees, kissing. "Hermione," he whispered, "how cold are you?"

"What?" she said. "I'm pretty cold."

Nott chuckled into her mouth. "So, you would be opposed to me undressing you?"

At this, she jerked backward, staring at him in bewilderment.

Nott held up his hands nervously. "It was a joke. Sort of."

Hermione tried to compose herself before speaking. "You – you don't understand, Nott."

"Nott?" he blinked at her. "I'm Nott again?"

"Theo," she shut her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not ready."

He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "It's not the cold, is it?"

When Hermione opened her eyes again, Nott seemed to have moved closer. She shook her head. "It's too fast."

He nodded. "Okay." He didn't say anything else for a while. Then, "we can still kiss, right?"

She put a hand to his chest when he leaned in. "What's going on, Theo? Are we just fooling ourselves? Are we bored?"

"Bored?" Nott laughed at this. "Starving, hiding, freezing, basically just fighting to stay alive, Hermione. Only you would be bored doing that."

She laughed. Then, more seriously, she said, "I mean it, Theo. What are we doing?"

Nott shrugged. "Passing time?"

She scoffed, pushing him away as he laughed. "Be serious!"

"What do you want me to say, Hermione?" he said. "That I've fallen madly in love with you? That you're all I can think about? That I've got tunnel vision that starts and ends with your face?"

She stared at him.

He smirked. "Because, I'll get back to you."

She grimaced and shoved him backward. "You ass."

…

"Are you cold?" he asks.

I shake my head mutely. The truth is, I'm really hot. I'm thankful for the rain because otherwise I'd be sweating right through my top. I feel his lips brush over my forehead. I bring my hands up in fists to place them between us against his chest: a physical barrier. I feel the cold water from his shirt trickle down my wrists as they connect.

He shrugs off his jacket and lifts it over our heads. And then he kisses me, under the warmth and earthy scent of the leather.

My fingers spread across his chest. Feel the buttons on his dress shirt. Find the spaces in between where they could chance a touch of his skin underneath.

He brings his hands, which are still holding the collar of his jacket above us, down to my shoulders. The jacket slides around the back of my head and he rests it there, bringing his hands up to explore my face. His fingers roam through the hollows of my cheeks, trail the angle of my jawline, the dip of my neck.

He slides his hands over my arms, all the way to my hands, grasping them in his. He leans his head against mine and says, "You know what's a great cure for migraines?"

I can feel him smiling against my temple. I realize that I'd forgotten about it but, now that he's mentioned it, just his breath there makes my head pound excruciatingly. The exhilaration of having his body against mine is not helping. "What?" I say, cringing through the pain.

"I'll give you a hint." His hand slips down my waist, below my waist, his fingers sweep across the elastic of my skirt, slide lower, and – very slowly – begin to lift the chiffon.

I stop him, of course. I don't think he would've gone through with it, anyway. Besides, he was probably seconds away from whispering 'Hermione' in my ear. I know that he's still hung up on her. In love. Let's not beat around the bush. He's still in love with her. Can you be in love with someone who no longer exists?