A/N: The songs "Champagne Supernmove" and "Wonderwall" by Oasis play in this chapter. Warning - there is (mild) smut towards the end.
Bath
November 4, 2006
"I think I'm in love," Hermione sang, eyes wide and hand stroking the vine wood delicately.
"Should I leave you two alone?" Draco asked, amused.
Following Remus' suggestion, Hermione and Draco had made their way to Bath to find the wand maker named Jonker. The pair had spent the better part of the morning finding the underground black market where Jonker sold unregulated wands, amongst an assortment of other magical items. Hermione had to drag Draco away from the brooms, pointing out that even if they could afford one (which they couldn't), he wouldn't be able to ride it. She recalled their conversation from several hours ago:
"Besides, why would you want to be so far up in the air?" She shuddered.
"Are you kidding, Granger?" Draco scoffed. "There's nothing like it – the feel of the wind on your face, the utter speed, the sensation of being up high. It's incredible."
Hermione frowned. "Can you all just ride brooms whenever you want?"
"Of course."
"I don't know if you noticed, but people don't fly brooms here—" she waved around them, "—after a series of Isolationist attacks on non-magicals, Parliament banned recreational broomsticks. Some members of the Corps and Justice are authorized to use them, but strictly for business."
"That's horrible." Draco frowned.
"Yes, the Isolationists used to be quite violent."
"Well, yes, that too. I meant not being able to fly. It feels unnatural, like a violation of a wizard's freedom." He shook his head.
Hermione shrugged. "We all make sacrifices for peace."
Staring down at her new wand, Hermione remarked,"It's like, it gets me. I could do the spells with your wand, but with this one, it just feels so natural."
"Mm-hmm" Draco mumbled, reading the small flyer the eccentric wand maker had handed them on their way out of his shop.
"Why are you still looking at that?" Hermione peered over his shoulder.
Draco shrugged. "I think we should go to this," he said, pointing to the flyer.
Hermione laughed. "You want to go to a non-magical concert?" With fewer Corps Officers on their tail in Bath, they had risked getting a motel room for the night, meaning they had a free night to do as they pleased.
He frowned. "I assumed they would let magicals in?"
"Well yes, of course, but the musicians themselves are non-magicals," Hermione explained.
"We've been on the run for a week. I think it would be nice to have some fun. I did enjoy that music you played for me back in the middle of nowhere." Draco shrugged.
Hermione didn't necessarily disagree; she was just skeptical of why Draco wanted to go, and it felt like an unnecessary risk. "These types of gatherings are illegal. It could get raided by Justice and, if so, we're screwed."
"Is that likely to happen?"
"Well, no," Hermione admitted.
"Why is it illegal anyway?" Draco frowned.
"When the WEA first formed, fundamentalists tended to use gatherings of any kind as an excuse to attack – a psychological tactic to demoralize the general population. To address this head on, the WEA banned recreational gatherings, limiting occupancy in restaurants and pubs, the works. In a few cities, they've developed more extensive defensive infrastructure, and recreational activities are slowly returning. But that's only London, Paris, and Barcelona, I believe," she explained.
"Well that's depressing," Draco commented. "But I think the fact it's illegal means it's safer; if anyone were to recognize us, I doubt they would turn us in, so as not to get caught themselves."
It was a reasonable argument, she thought. And really, a week on the run was grating her. "Alright, we can go."
That evening, Hermione and Draco followed the instructions Jonker had jotted down on the flyer, and they found themselves facing a boarded-up door.
"What now?" Draco asked.
Hermione frowned at the paper – all that was left was the phrase 'Just looking around' – and she went ahead and knocked on the door. The pair had worn their typical disguises: their hair darkened, with odd-shaped glasses and clothes atypical of a Corps Lieutenant and Death Eater. Hermione took comfort in the feeling of her wand holstered to her right forearm, particularly in these moments of uncertainty. She was about to argue they should leave, when a small space at the top of the door opened and a head appeared.
"What's your problem?" the man drawled.
Draco opened his mouth to speak when Hermione stopped him and stepped up. "Just looking around," she told the man, and as suddenly as he appeared, the space vanished and the pair were once again alone.
"Well that was odd," Draco commented, "and rude."
Hermione shrugged. "Probably just security. Maybe we didn't pass?"
The door suddenly opened and, after paying a small fee, they walked through the entryway. The walls were painted black, and flyers like the one in Hermione's hand were plastered across them. Two men stood to the side, smoking cigarettes and shouting obscenities at one another.
Beyond the entryway, they could hear the boom boom of bass echoing from the basement. Hermione grabbed Draco's hand, and the pair headed downstairs.
It wasn't a particularly large room - the band was playing on a make-shift stage perhaps 10 meters away. Twenty or so people were right in front of it, dancing or otherwise just listening to the music. To their right was a keg manned by a bored man in all black, playing what Hermione assumed was a Game Boy. A few folding chairs stood against the wall, where people, magical and non-magical alike, were loitering and drinking.
Hermione wasn't particularly impressed, though she had never been to a concert or a show in her life. However, Draco looked like a fish out of water. She noticed he was gripping her hand for dear life, so she squeezed his back in an attempt to comfort the man and led him towards the keg. He gave her a questioning look as they approached, and she explained, having to shout in his ear, "It's beer – an alcoholic drink. Like butterbeer, but less sweet and will mess with your head more."
He hung back as she negotiated with the man for two cups. She returned and guided them towards one of the far corners of the room, where it was slightly less noisy. Draco drank his entire beer in one gulp.
"You alright?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Draco said shortly; his eyes seemed to be scanning the room quickly.
"What's wrong?"
"There's a lot of people," Draco commented. He wasn't wrong – there were probably around 60 people in a relatively confined space. She wondered if he was claustrophobic.
"You don't like small spaces?" she asked, finding she still had to speak quite loudly.
"It's just – a lot of people." Draco seemed embarrassed.
"Do you want to leave?"
"No." He shook his head and grabbed a couple of folding chairs, opening one up for her before sitting down on the other. "Let's listen to the band."
So that's what they did, with Hermione getting up from time to time to refill their drinks. She thought the band was quite good – a group called Oasis who seemed to have popped up in the 90s after the formation of the WEA. The other patrons gave Draco and Hermione a wide berth, which she greatly appreciated. About four drinks in, Draco was starting to seem a bit more comfortable; he looked relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself.
"Do you want to dance?" he asked her.
She was surprised but looked around and realized that quite a few people were dancing, the music having shifted to a softer melody. "Sure."
She was distinctly more nervous than she was the last time they danced. Once they were within a few feet of the other dancers, Hermione placed his hands around her waist and her own around his neck.
He smiled. "I could have figured that out."
"Sorry," she responded, her face reddening as they shifted left and right.
"I'm kidding, Hermione," he whispered in her ear, his voice sending a shiver through her. He stepped closer, and she realized they were mere inches apart. She felt him rubbing gentle circles on her back and she sighed into him, her right cheek falling naturally on his chest as they swayed gently to the music. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the proximity, but she felt comfortable – relaxed for the first time in a long while.
"I struggle to see this as dancing," he mumbled into her ear. She couldn't see it, but she could hear the smirk in his tone.
She laughed. "You know in my world, dancing is just an excuse to get close to someone." She pointed discreetly to a few different couples who were now making out on the dance floor.
Draco laughed, and Hermione wondered if he would sit back down, but instead he pulled her in closer, leaning his cheek against her head. The pair were barely moving, holding each other as the sounds of "Champagne Supernova" played over them. Hermione rationally knew this was poor decision making; she was trying, both within her own mind as well as overtly with Draco, to establish clear boundaries. They were in a precarious position, and more than that, he couldn't be trusted and she knew that.
But they would have these moments, and everything in Hermione wanted to trust him; wanted to be able to consider what this could be. Where her rational mind attempted to recall her laundry list of reasons to be wary, her heart would recall the moments he lit up after she mastered another spell; or the nights where they slept side by side and he would hold her hand as she expressed all her fears of what would go wrong; or when he picked her up a roast beef and Havarti sandwich from the deli because he remembered it was her favorite.
So she smiled into him, letting herself forget for a few minutes just how many secrets lay between them and enjoy the comfort of human touch. As the song ended and another began, they separated, and Hermione gave him a small smile. She had a comment on the tip of her tongue when the room erupted into a cacophony of song, the audience now singing along to "Wonderwall".
Hermione, completely ignorant of the song, found the entire thing amusing. She and Draco stood, hand in hand, and swayed to the beat. Eventually, following the leads of the other magicals, they pulled out their wands and lit the tips, swaying their arms back and forth. It was an odd moment of camaraderie with a group of total strangers, and it made Hermione smile.
She turned to Draco and caught his eyes watering. He didn't appear sad or upset, but he was watching the band and the other patrons around him, and tears were clearly falling. Hermione was bewildered by the raw emotion, wondering what it meant but also unwilling to interrupt him. He seemed to feel her eyes on him and returned her gaze, wiping his eyes and giving her a look she couldn't quite place before turning back to the band.
The song ended and Draco turned to her. "Can we go back to the motel? There's something I want to show you." Hermione nodded and they left, hands still tightly clasped.
"Where are you taking me?" Hermione asked, hanging onto the fire escape connected to their motel balcony for dear life.
"Do you trust me?" he asked her.
"That's a loaded question!"
"Sorry – do you trust that I won't hurt you?" He rolled his eyes.
She thought about that for a moment. "Yes, I think I do."
He smiled. "OK, well, we're almost there, come on."
She gulped and, regretting that last beer, followed him until she realized they had reached the roof. She relaxed only when her feet touched solid ground and started shivering at the feel of the wind on the cool November evening. Draco mumbled a quick spell and turned something in his pocket into a blanket, which he wrapped around her.
"So you wanted to take me to the roof?" she asked.
"Ah, yes." Draco nodded, and turned her around, pointing at something in the sky. "I wanted to show you your constellation."
"My constellation?"
His finger hovered by her cheek before touching the scar on the side of her face. "Orion."
"Oh." She looked, following where he pointed before frowning. "I don't think I see it."
He laughed and stood behind her, guiding her hand. "If you look just the right way, you'll see the archer."
"Oh! I see it now!" Her eyes lit up and she turned to see him smiling, watching her. "What?"
"I've just never met anyone like you."
She frowned. "Well yes, I'm not surprised. I assume most of the girls where you come from are very different from me."
He shook his head. "It's not that. I don't know if I can explain it. You're different." Her brows furrowed further and he started again, "Sorry – not bad. Just, I don't think I've ever met someone with a mind like yours. Or who sees the world quite like you do. You've had your life turned upside down and yet, here you are, smiling at something as simple as the night sky.."
She looked at him, that familiar feeling of her heart and head attempting to tear her apart still present. "You've had quite a bit to drink tonight."
He laughed. "You think I'm only saying this because I'm drunk?" She shrugged, so he continued, "I don't know, maybe I am, but that doesn't make it untrue."
"I don't understand you," she told him honestly, grabbing his hand and drawing circles on the pads of his fingers.
"What don't you understand?" he asked.
"You don't make sense," she whispered, looking up from where their hands were clasped and finding him gazing at her. She dropped his hand and shook her head. "How did you find the roof?"
"Hm? Oh." He swallowed, frowning at his empty palm. "When you were practicing with your wand earlier, I wandered for a bit."
Hermione nodded. "You know, I've forgotten what it's like to go out and look at the stars. All those years, I always felt it too dangerous to go outside at night." She walked over to where a boulder of concrete stood and took a seat, gazing up into the clear sky. "For all of the horrible things that this world has brought us, the stars themselves haven't even blinked. They just shine on us, as though nothing has changed."
Draco sat next to her. "In divination lessons, we were taught to look to the stars to see the future."
Hermione laughed. "That's absolute rubbish."
"Hmm." He smiled, scratching at his right shoulder. "I'd have to agree that most divination – tea leaves, crystal balls – are quite absurd. But there are magical animals – centaurs – who have always used the stars to guide their decisions. One month before the Dark Lord claimed Hogwarts, they suddenly left the Forbidden Forest. There was no reason, except that they knew it was coming."
"Or perhaps someone told them," Hermione argued.
"Perhaps," he agreed, and the two sat in companionable silence, until even with a blanket covering her, Hermione shivered.
"Thank you," she told him as they crawled down the fire escape. At the bottom, he took her hand and helped her back onto their balcony. They stood for a moment, next to the window. "I'd forgotten what it felt like to just relax. I enjoyed myself tonight."
He smiled as they walked inside the darkened room. "I'm glad. I saw your face when Jonker handed you that flyer. I could tell how much you wanted to go."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Is that why you insisted?"
He shrugged, looking almost nervous. She considered this most recent version of Draco – modest, shy, and almost anxious – completely at odds with the others she had become used to. And kind, she realized; thoughtful, even.
"I still don't trust you," she whispered before she abruptly leaned into him, pressing her lips against his.
The kiss was hard and intoxicating, the product of weeks of isolation and sexual tension. His arms snaked around her, pulling them closer together, as though it were a reflex. She could feel his legs shaking in anticipation, his mouth opening to hers so freely.
She pressed her tongue against his, a slight moan escaping her lips as his hands grazed her arse, settling on the top of her thighs. Her head was light and her arms still coated in goosebumps from the chill of the roof, but in that moment, she felt warm and present, with his hands pressing against her short dress and soft lips pushing against her own.
She pushed him onto the bed, her gaze landing on his slightly open mouth and short hair.
She tugged her dress off, a small smirk forming on her lips in response to his widening eyes. She pushed him down, straddling him, an unconscious sigh escaping her lips at the feel of his hardening erection against her core. His hips jutted and his arms reached out for her. He was anxious and responsive, his cheeks flushed and breaths short from exertion.
She grabbed his face, her eyes boring into his, almost as though she were looking for something.
He smiled softly at her, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, and whispered, "You're beautiful."
She shook her head just a little, as if trying to shake something loose, but he just gazed at her – like he wanted to show her something he couldn't put into words. And she suddenly felt like one of those silly girls she went to secondary with, who talked about butterflies in their stomachs and 'making love,' as if sex were more than simply a biological imperative.
She pulled apart his button up shirt, her hands grazing his torso and chest, seeing him bare for the first time since their fateful meeting nearly a month ago. He hadn't substantively changed physically from the man she had found passed out in the woods, but her perception of what she saw had.
His unblemished skin betrayed his relatively peaceful life. The scar on his right shoulder lay inflamed, the result of his incessant scratching. The Dark Mark sat on his pale skin, a reminder of the chasm that lay between them and the questions that still lingered. Her fingers lightly drew lines across his torso. Her mind played with the idea of 'what if?' for a moment, but she realized that "they" – she and Draco together – were impossible. She tried not to think too many steps ahead these days, but those few minutes where her mind would drift, she was fairly certain: there was no happy ending for the two of them.
But she decided something, as she threw her bra off to the side and pushed her chest against his –
She decided she was okay with that.
Their lips collided, and Draco wrapped his hands around her bare skin, skimming every surface. She moved her hips, her core pressing against him while his fingers kept teasing at the elastic band of her underwear. She sighed when he finally pushed her knickers down, and his breath hitched as he looked at her.
She broke their kiss when his fingers grazed her clit, her breaths short against his neck. He was tentative, and she could feel his eyes on her, even though her face was buried against him. He was so soft, gently pushing a finger inside her whilst his thumb kept rubbing endless circles against her. She recalled his hard edges, both physically and figuratively, back when they were arguing over the "Pureblood Manifesto" in the Uninhabitable Zone.
But now, as his fingers ever so gently pressed against her core and his breaths softly played against her neck, he was undeniably different from the cold Death Eater she once assumed him to be. Her breathing picked up, and his movements grew more purposeful, his fingers pushing and circling in response to her every twitch and moan. She dug her nails into his shoulders, closing her eyes as he continued to push his fingers in and out of her. She could feel her toes vibrating, her hips responding erratically, pressing into his fingers.
"Draco," she whispered, an unconscious utterance as she came undone, collapsing against him. His hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his movements still so gentle. She watched him, his eyes lustful, his tongue gently wetting his lips. Had he changed from that hardened Death Eater to become something else? Or was this who he was all along, and it had simply taken the last month for him to show her?
She pushed her lips against his, and reached down, releasing his cock from his trousers. She broke the kiss and rolled off to the side, her hand stroking his length as she watched him intently, biting the inside of her cheek.
His eyes fluttered and shut, his face so expressive for someone who was typically closed off. But now, as she continued her ministrations, he was an open book, his mouth opening and closing and his chest moving rapidly against her own.
His hips jutted, finding a rhythm against her hand, and just when she was sure he was about to find his release, he placed his hand against hers.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Hermione?" he mumbled, his hand lightly grazing her hip. His eyes were wide, nearly pleading, and she nodded her head in answer to the unspoken question.
Because she understood it, that sense that this could be "it" – the only time they'd be willing to cross that line. They were in a strange sort of limbo, stuck between worlds, only temporarily on the same side.
She crawled back atop him, her hand still grasping his length, and lowered herself onto him, moaning softly when he filled her.
She pushed her chest flush against his, feeling his sweat intermingle with her own. Her hands pushed into his hair, fingering the short blonde locks as she continued to rock against him.
Hermione wasn't particularly prude, nor did she consider sex to be something that had to necessarily involve an emotional connection. But still, as his eyes stared into hers, and she pushed against him, her breath hitching as his hands pressed against her arse, she felt the moment to be undeniably intimate.
Her movements grew more urgent – that tension returning as she ground into him. She rode him while he grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. She couldn't take it anymore and she moaned, allowing herself to finally let go, the orgasm overtaking her. She felt him find his release moments later, and they simply lay together, their bodies entwined in one another as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Hermione stared at the ceiling, her chest beating unnaturally fast as she felt Draco at her side, brushing kisses into her neck with his arm draped over her waist. In that moment, there was no chasm between them; they were just two people on an impossible quest, trying to find a little bit of comfort. She turned, pressed her lips to his and willed herself to pretend, if just for one night, that this made sense.
November 5, 2006
The sound of helicopters woke them with a jolt. "We have to move!" Hermione was stone cold sober now as she detangled her limbs from his. She threw on a short skirt and sweater before zipping on her boots.
"What is it?" Draco asked, grabbing as many of their belongings as possible and shoving them into Hermione's never-ending bag.
"Corps standard issue helicopters. There's no base nearby; I can think of only one reason they would be here." Hermione was checking her wand and other belongings, fixing her hair, and throwing Draco his hat and glasses.
"Helicopter?"
"It's a – non-magical flying machine; people use it to quickly get from place to place." Hermione explained rapidly before standing with her ear to the door.
"We should take the outside stairs," Draco pointed out.
"The fire escape?" Hermione's eyes grew wide at the prospect of having to shimmy down three flights of stairs.
"Yes, it leads to an alley. Let's hope they don't know exactly where we are."
She nodded and reluctantly followed him to the balcony, carefully checking to ensure the way was clear. She closed her eyes briefly and made her way down the three flights as quickly as she could. As she jumped from the bottom rung, Draco caught her, and the two immediately took off with no clear destination in mind — just the simple need to get out.
Reaching the end of the alley, they slowed and listened to the sound of boots against pavement. "They're everywhere," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide in panic.
Draco nodded. "We need to get out of here somehow. Hopefully we look innocuous enough — we should be able to hide in plain sight; it has worked for us in the past."
Hermione looked skeptical, but replied, "We don't have a choice do we?"
He held out his hand, and she took it without question. The pair walked onto the main thoroughfare, hoping to give off the impression of a young couple bewildered by all the officers milling about. Their plan was successful for the first three blocks of their journey; whenever someone paid them too much attention, they paused as if to look at a vacant storefront and made googly eyes at each other.
Without warning, Draco dropped to the ground, screaming in pain and clutching his left forearm. "What's wrong?" Hermione panicked, squatting down next to him as he cradled his arm like it was on fire, his eyes wide.
"I can't move," he stuttered.
She bent down to help him when she heard what sounded like dozens of Corps standard issue semi-automatic rifle safeties clicking off.
"Fuck," he moaned as he turned to the clacking of boots coming from his left. Colonel Longbottom approached them with a self-satisfied grin covering her face. Hermione realized they must have figured out some way to hurt him through his mark.
"Mr. Draco Malfoy and Lt. Hermione Granger, you are hereby-" but before she was able to finish her speech, every Corps member fell to the ground, as if they had been stunned. Draco, no longer paralysed, sat up to look at Hermione, finding a similar look of shock and confusion mirroring his own. They stood up, ready to run again, when they felt hands grip their necks. Suddenly, they were in a plain living room, with no Corps officers or helicopters in sight.
The hands let go of them, and Hermione turned around, startled at the sight before her.
"Minister Snape?"
A/N: As always, thank you to my Alphabets - ElizColl, Art3misia and Astrangefan.
I've also put together a WEA 101 for anyone who would like a refresher on the terms/government in this story - it is pinned on my Tumblr at canttouchthis87.
I appreciate any and all comments/theories/reviews! You can also find me making questionably clever banners for this fic and posting crack on Tumblr at canttouchthis87.
An interlude will be coming on Monday - just a quick look at what Harry/Ginny are up to in Cambridge.