Hermione awoke, drenched with sweat on her cot, the light blanket she had draped over herself in the night kicked off to the side and laying limp on the floor.
She couldn't help but feel a sinking weight of disappointment. She had hoped that when she woke she would somehow trick her mind into believing it had all been a dream; and she had been looking forward to the moment of peace this could have afforded her. But as soon as she opened her eyes, swollen and aching from lack of sleep, those same thoughts that had consumed her in the night came flooding back with a force that nearly stole the breath from her lungs.
She just couldn't reconcile the image of that kind, seemingly innocent boy from the first day of school, with the absolute monster she knew him to be now.
It shouldn't have come as such a shock to her; she had known Malfoy as a teenager, and remembered just how awful he had been even then. But secretly, and perhaps even unknown to herself, she had silently carried a small shred of hope for him over the years; that somewhere buried deep inside the good in him was still intact, waiting for the right moment resurface.
Those hopes which she hadn't even realized existed until now, were brutally bashed the second he had stepped towards her in that clearing.
Draco Malfoy was a cold blooded monster. Nothing at this point could convince her otherwise.
When she finally rose, feeling clammy and disheveled, this was the thought that played through her mind on a repetitive loop.
Fucking monster, fucking death eater, fucking murdering bastard.
She got up and dressed slowly, slower than she ever had in the course of her journey, for once not inspired to race outside and confront the day with immediate haste.
She stretched on a pair of jeans and a light jumper, casting a cleansing charm on the few pairs of clothes she carried with her in her bag. When she had finished the process of braiding her hair and lacing her shoes by hand, she ineffectively tried to find another way to stall. She didn't want to go out there, to see his face, to feel his cold eyes on her, and she knew that the second she did, the tension, the fear, and the anger would fight to consume her. She needed to stay rational, and unfortunately this was something she found herself practically incapable of doing in his presence.
But she would have to try, to push past his hold over her and regain focus. She couldn't let the stress of it compromise her fortitude. No matter how she felt about the matter, she simply didn't have time to stall.
With this thought she got up and walked tensely towards the opening of the tent, the skin at the back of her neck prickling with nervous anticipation.
Slowly, she parted the folds of canvas, and peaked out into the dimly lit woods, shrouded in fog, with her wand clenched firmly in her hand; as if she expected him to charge at her the second she revealed herself. When he didn't, she turned her head from side to side and squinted, barely making out the lines of the grim forrest with her blurry vision.
Then, as she craned her neck to the far left, she saw him.
He was slumped against an old hemlock tree with his arms crossed, and the pale outline of his face was such a stark contrast to the gloomy blue of the forrest, that it practically glowed in the midst of the murky colors; the only image not washed out by the wet and the grey of the morning.
Immediately he was staring at her with those deep, sallow eyes, which were punctuated by large swoops of blue and purple, not unlike bruises against his fair skin.
She took him in with a bit of surprise. Though she had of course expected him to be there, she was still shocked and perturbed by the sight of him. The grey sweater he wore hung loosely around his frame, exposing a crescent of pale skin where his neck met with the broad curve of his shoulders, and his face was set hard, his jaw tense, its sloping curve enhanced to a dramatic effect. In fact, Hermione noticed now that all of his features, which had already been rather sharp, seemed emphasized to an extreme by his gaunt pallor.
He looked violently beautiful, like some pale and poisonous flower, or rather an angel of death, looming in the grey heather.
She tried not to be too startled, but all the same let out a breathy sort of gasp and lifted her wand higher, pointing it towards his face.
He cocked his head at her.
"Forgot about me already, Granger?"
She glared at him, lowering her wand, but not by much.
"No. You just look like shit. It's unsettling."
His eyes glimmered with humor: "You don't look so great yourself. Got a mirror in that ridiculous beaded bag of yours?"
She blushed, but not because of the insult. It was weird to hear him talk about her things like that, as if he were so familiar with them; these personal items that had become integral to her survival over the years.
"No actually I haven't. Not all of us are vain enough to consider that a necessity, Malfoy." She grit out, turning away from him and angrily pacing around the perimeters of the camp, searching for any small sticks that could serve as kindling for the fire she had already planned on making.
Draco parted his lips as he watched her, the cool breeze cutting through his frame. Once he had figured out what it was she was doing, he scrunched up his face and said:
"Why are you going about it like that?"
She glanced up at him, bending over as she grasped at a cluster of fallen alder sprigs.
"What do you mean?" She answered, genuinely unsure.
"You're doing it all with your hands. If you want to start a fire, just make one with your wand."
She scoffed at him, and went back to what she was doing, breaking up a large branch with her foot, and casting a drying spell on the pieces she collected from it.
"If the fire was just coming from my wand, then I wouldn't be able to cook anything bigger than a plum without completely scorching it. And if I have to feed two people now, than I reckon we'll need a bit more than that."
Without even looking she felt his eyes, tearing into her.
Of course it was a bullshit excuse, and of course he knew that.
What it really was, was that she preferred the muggle way of doing it, and hadn't thought to circumvent the process entirely through magic, not once in the past two years.
She waited for his scathing retort, but to her surprise he said nothing.
She felt a little thrown. Shouldn't he be pursuing that as a means of antagonizing her? Telling her she should just accio all the supplies she needed, like any real witch would?
She cleared her throat awkwardly, swishing her wand to make a spot for the fire, conjuring nearby stones to lay in a flat ring just outside of the tent. After a moment of silence she spoke:
"I don't have a lot in terms of variety. I've just been eating canned beans for a while now, which I could warm up if you like, but to be honest i'm running quite low on them too."
She had begun to construct a tipi out of the wood, still avoiding his eyes. When she was once again met with silence, she stopped to look up, searching for a response. When she met his gaze his eyes were livid.
"What?" She breathed out, watching him as he silently fumed.
"I'm not touching any of your mudblood food Granger, you can fucking forget about that."
Her mouth opened and she felt her eyebrows raise on their own accord.
"Are you joking?"
He leaned forward, looking her up and down with spite etched into his features: "Does it look like I'm joking you stupid bitch?"
She could start to feel herself growing feverish with anger, and tried to push it down, to be rational, but it was hard when she had such a physical reaction to his words. Truly, the urge to kick his face in was overwhelming.
She forced herself to bite back some of the bile, and tried once again to return her attentions to the fire as she spoke: "Fine. You'll only be doing me a favor. I'd love to watch you starve."
His mouth turned up into a sardonic slant. "Oh yeah? Shouldn't you be taking care of me if I'm to be your little pet?"
Without thinking she scoffed and snapped back: "If you were my pet Malfoy I'd flush you."
He let out an unexpected laugh, and she turned to stare at him in shock, watching as his features suddenly became boyish, while somehow still maintaining their ever-present edge.
Then, his face settled into that lopsided, cheshire cat grin that made her stomach turn, and he spoke:
"Well that was massively lame, even for you."
She held his piercing gaze, unconsciously grinding her jaw: "You can't say that. You don't know me."
"Don't I?" He said, quirking an eyebrow up at her.
"No. You don't." She shot back.
His upper lip lifted and his smile morphed into a snarky grimace, leaning back against the tree as he spoke: "Well I know what you are, and that's enough."
"You know, I could say the same for you Malfoy." She snapped, turning away from him. As she did couldn't help but add quietly under her breath:
"Fucking Nazi bastard."
"What did you call me?"
She resisted the urge to look back up at him. "Nothing, just shut up."
"Did you just call me a Nazi?"
She let out a heavy sigh and tossed the last branch down onto the little structure with a bit more force than she had intended.
"Yeah, I did. I'm surprised you even know what that word means."
He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh please Granger, I'm not an idiot, I have looked at a history book once or twice."
She felt her lip twitch as the burning furnace in her chest flickered to life again, the anger flooding her body with heat.
"Really? And you're still following him? I don't think that's indicative of your supreme intelligence Malfoy."
His stare turned deadly.
"You can think whatever you want about me. I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."
"You're right." She said, gazing at him in earnest.
"I don't understand, and I don't think I want to."
Then, with a slight flick of her wand she shot a stream of fire into the pile of wood, which immediately crackled to life and began emitting waves of heat.
Malfoy went uncharacteristically quiet, yet again, and she snuck a glance in his direction, only to find him seemingly passive; his face turned against the bark of the tree, gazing off into the distance.
After a moment she let out an indignant huff and conjured a pot and two cans of beans from out of her bag, cracking both open with a single swoop of her wand before pouring the brown goo and levitating it to cook slowly over the fire.
More minutes passed in awkward silence as she stirred every once in while, refusing to look at him. When the beans were warm enough to eat, she poured them back into their original cans, reusing them as dish-ware for the sake of time and convenience.
She accioed two forks from her little bag and threw one at Malfoy, who snapped his head towards it at just the right time, catching it in surprise and flinching ever so slightly.
Bugger, she had hoped it would hit him.
Then, she grabbed her own can and turned back to the tent, deciding she would prefer to start off her day as far away from him as possible.
.
.
When she was finished with her meal she stepped out of the tent and wordlessly disassembled everything, slinging the tan knapsack over her shoulders afterwards, and removing the more subtle traces from their site. Then, she started the process of taking down her enchantments; all the while refusing to meet Malfoy's gaze.
She heard him shut the little journal he had been reading with a snap, and turned to see him rising from the ground.
"Where are we going?" He said.
"North." She replied dryly; she really didn't want to talk to him.
"Alright, why?"
She shot him a glare and began to pick up a steady pace through the woods. He kept up with her, taking long and easy strides while she practically jogged.
"As if I have to tell you, Malfoy."
His hand snapped out and caught her wrist, turning her back to face him. She released a little sound of surprise and tried to pull away, but his nails cut sharply into her skin, holding her in place.
He leaned his face down to hers, and she squirmed; the intensity of his eyes like a scalding burn now that they were so close.
"If you're going to drag me along with you, then you could at least do me the decency of telling me where the fuck we're going." He spat.
With enough force she yanked out of his grasp, her wand already trained on him.
"Don't fucking touch me."
His lips curled into a cruel sneer: "Why, afraid you'll like it?"
"You're repulsive." She snapped, her hand clenching tighter around her wand as the anger within her began to boil.
His eyes glimmered. "Maybe."
She leaned into him, feeling emboldened by her rage and said; "Well I'm glad you've at least come to terms with it. But you're also completely powerless, don't forget that."
A darkness flickered in his eyes and with a throaty voice, he responded: "I'm just biding my time, mudblood."
She lifted her wand higher, pointing it menacingly beneath his face.
"Yeah? Me too, Malfoy."
He let out a low laugh, not even glancing at the weapon, instead keeping his eyes on her as he spoke in that same, threatening voice:
"For what? Are you implying you want to kill me Granger? Well, If you're so willing, then be my guest, put me out of my misery."
She faltered, parted her lips but didn't say anything. She didn't know what she could say. How many times would he call her on this bluff?
His eyes turned stormy in her silence, and with a quick motion he took hold of her shirt, yanking her towards him.
She gasped, suddenly so close that she could feel his breath fanning against her face. Immediately her wand was pressed under his chin.
"Do it. Go ahead." He gritted out.
Something in his gaze had turned feral, and as he searched her eyes, forcing her body closer to his own, something within her snapped, and she reacted.
She wrapped her wand-less hand around the back of his neck, and saw the shock flicker across his face before she brought her leg up, kneeing him harshly in the gut. As he doubled over with a sharp intake of breath, she pushed him away from her.
He stumbled back a few steps, one hand clutched to the spot where her knee had connected.
Then, a wry smile tilted the corners of his mouth, and with a little effort he straightened himself to face her again.
"That wasn't so bad Granger. I have to admit, I didn't see it coming."
She took a step back, her arm still raised in defense as he began to walk almost nonchalantly past her.
"But you know, the element of surprise isn't always going to be enough. One of these days, someone is going to start anticipating your moves."
She scoffed, following his movements with her outstretched wand. "That someone being you?"
He grinned again, his cruel eyes dancing in the morning light: "We'll see."
.
.
After their initial fight, they had made it decently far into the day without speaking, and without even making eye-contact. Hermione had lead them up the ridge of a small saddlebacked mountain with two distinct peaks, intentionally choosing a shorter, steeper path in the hopes that the physical task would distract them enough from interacting.
As they traveled further up the mountain, she could hear the sound of his low and heavy breathes, emanating from him as they walked; her own rapid heaves almost drowning them out completely.
She thought about saying something for a while before actually doing anything, putting off speaking to him again unless it was absolutely necessary, but once they were decently near the top, she decided to just get it over with.
She paused a little awkwardly, and turned to glance at him.
He stopped, leaning against the cliffside with the support of one arm, which she once again found herself unintentionally appraising.
He lifted his eyebrows, waiting for her to say something, but she barely noticed as she continued to stare.
In the course of their walk, with sun beaming heavily down on them, they had both begun to sweat. Hermione felt gross and sticky, but as she looked at Malfoy, she was dumbfounded to find his appearance rather improved by the change.
A dark rouge had risen around his under-eyes in a way that intensified them, and crept out to sit on his cheeks, giving the appearance of a demure blush that any girl would love to flaunt. And the sweat that clung to his blonde locks forced them into a disheveled, devil-may-care sort of state, that also seemed a better fit for his brooding features.
His brows crept further up as he waited, and then he cocked his head to its side, which she had already noticed was a bit of a pattern for him when he began to scrutinize things.
She didn't give him the time to think about her little moment, and quickly slung the knapsack off from her shoulders, reaching in and conjuring that same canteen from earlier. She took a generous sip, and then thrust it in his direction.
He leaned away from her as he eyed the thing, seemingly repulsed.
"Go on, take it." She said, giving it a little shake.
His gaze flickered back to hers and settled into a sharp sneer: "Don't make me laugh." He said, roughly pushing her hand away from him, and spilling a bit of the contents on her as he continued climbing.
.
.
As the day began to get darker and colder, the sun rapidly fading and taking away all the warmth with it, Hermione stopped once more.
She glanced at him, uncomfortable with breaking the heavy silence that had lasted for the past few hours.
She cleared her throat and murmured: "It's getting dark, so I guess we should..."
"Yeah." He said, interrupting her coldly, and brushing past her shoulder.
He took a couple of strides forward, and then glanced back to her as he walked.
"Just beyond the tree-line, right?" He called out, gesturing to the sparse beginnings of a forrest that climbed sporadically down and across the mountainside.
She nodded, watching him with suspicion. "That's right."
Then, after a quiet moment, she followed him into the dark woods.
It turned out to be a frigid night, one reminiscent of February, though it was mid spring already. As Hermione set up the tent, she had to double down the reinforcements that kept it in place, just to fight against the intense wind that rocked it, nearly sending it toppling over.
It took her a while, but she was able to successfully charm the immediate space into a sort of bubble that withstood the rushing wind. She didn't know how long it would last though, and she once again found herself nervously glancing at Malfoy, wondering how to initiate a conversation.
She decided to bite the bullet; she had already ripped the bandaid off last night, so shouldn't it be easier to say now?
Apparently, it wasn't. She had to swallow down several unsteady breaths before she managed to get it out, her voice quivering slightly as she did.
"Its rather cold." She said lamely.
His gaze flickered to hers and he held it with a glare.
"Observant."
She tried again, attempting to sound more confident: "Would you at least like something to sleep on this time?"
He pulled the little black book from his pants and stretched his legs out, positioning them dangerously close to the fire.
"How about this; if I ask, then you'll know." He flipped the grubby thing open with a flick of his pointer finger, casting his attentions to whatever he found on its pages.
She looked at it, and after a moment of contemplation said;
"I've been meaning to ask you about that."
He turned and eyed her spitefully, clenching the little book closed in his hand.
"Not a fucking chance Granger."
"Well, not just about that really." She barreled on, ignoring his interjection.
"I was wondering, where it is you keep your things."
For a brief moment he stared at her, mulling over her words, before his features settled once more into an expressionless slate. From his pocket he withdrew a sleek, black wallet, tossing it in her direction.
She fumbled and caught it, then looked down at the item in her hands.
"In here?" She said, the shock evident in her voice.
The thing was textured, scaly, and she concluded after a moment that it was made from dragon hide. How very Malfoy of him.
But her shock didn't come from the look of it; it came from the size of it. As a vessel, it was confoundingly small. She herself had spent several weeks working up to transfiguring the little beaded bag, and had been incredibly proud of her success when she managed to do it. That however, was about three times the size of his wallet, and so she was left gaping at it, studying its corners and edges, feeling the intensely concentrated magic that constituted its form.
Draco watched her, hiding the nervous tension that had formed in his gut the second the thing left his hands. But what else could he have done? She would have found it eventually.
When the moment dragged on for a little too long he rolled his eyes.
"Well don't get your knickers in a twist, its just a sodding wallet."
She glared at him and he quickly added:
"But if you are going to be rummaging around in there, then there's something I'd like back."
"Why the hell would I ever do that?" She bristled.
He gave her a small smirk. "Because, as it turns out, you might actually want it too."
She scrunched her brows together. "Can't I just look inside and take it for myself?"
Malfoy shook his head, the smirk growing on his lips.
"Is that how you've got yours set up then? I have to say, I'd expect you to be more careful Granger."
"I never said that." She snapped back defensively, then glanced at the wallet again.
"Say I did want want to open it, what would I have to do?"
He let out a little laugh. "Not what you'd have to do, what I'd have to do. Its sealed so that it only opens for me. Of course, If you really did want a look, then I would need my wand back..."
She let out a loud scoff and closed the wallet, shoving it into her coat pocket.
"Well, that's not happening."
Malfoy huffed out a sigh of what seemed to be authentic disappointment, muddled with irritation, then said: "I figured you'd say that."
He cast his gaze away from her, as if to signify the end of the conversation, drawing the little book back up to his face.
She contemplated pressing for more information on it, but decided she would leave that one for another night. The wallet would be enough to occupy her, for now.
She walked away, but just before she reached the tent, turned back and said: "So, just to get this straight, you'd rather freeze out here than take anything from me? Not even a bloody pillow? Or a blanket?"
He looked at her like it was the most ridiculous thing she had said all night.
"I'm sure I'll be just fine. Really Granger, I'm starting to think you actually want me in that little tent of yours."
She opened her mouth and he cut her off.
"Besides, I thought we already had this conversation; the answer is no. Don't bother asking again."
"Fine." She spat out, then stole away into the walls of canvas.
Once inside she hesitated, then biting down on her lip, cast a subtle warming charm that would extend past the perimeters of the tent.
.
.
The moment she lay down, Hermione realized that once again she would be subject to another sleepless night. Knowing that he was out there made her impossibly restless, so much so that even reading couldn't help her escape the thoughts that clouded her mind. Eventually, just like the last night, she found herself hopelessly tossing and turning on the small expanse of the cot.
And somehow, in those late hours when she shouldn't have been awake, she knew, despite the pressing silence, that he couldn't sleep either.
She wasn't sure how, but she could feel him, could almost see him through the thickness of her tent, sitting there, his body tense and turned towards her, probably plotting her murder.
The thought made her shudder and convulse. She didn't want to be afraid of him, and for some reason when they were face to face, she wasn't.
But that first night, with the lasting image of his silver-blue eyes bleeding through her thoughts as she cowered in the dark; then, she had been afraid. And she was afraid now too, the confines of the tent suddenly suffocating, making her feel like a cornered animal, trapped within the little space.
She was afraid to be near him, afraid of his hatred, and afraid of what would happen if she were to somehow loose her advantage over him. If he managed to overcome her, there was no doubt in her mind that he would kill her, and then return to pursuing Harry.
She wanted to push his existence off the precipice of her mind, and forget that he was even real at all. But his presence in and of itself had a sort of tangible reach to it, like it was a pair of strong hands, tangling its fingers around her throat, and slowly beginning to squeeze.
She wished hopelessly that she could kill him and somehow not hate herself for it. She had never wanted to be rid of someone so much in her life.
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Hey there, thanks for reading! I just wanna give a quick s/o to a couple people. First off is Afrancum1 for suggesting I post my story to the dramione facebook groups, and Caro2728, who left a very nice comment as well. Thank you guys!
Also, thanks to those of you who found my story on the dramione fb groups, I received some lovely comments on there and I just want you all to know how much it means to me that people are showing interest in my work. I honestly didn't think very many people would go for it, and you guys have already eclipsed my expectations. Thank you for the support, you're all so wonderful :)