Chapter 8:
The sun is high and a light breeze ambles across the high grass as she stares out the back window planning her approach. Hermione tries, really tries, to muster the courage to go back to Malfoy's for her things, the small bag of clothes and a few spare books that she knows is sitting in the corner of his front room. Why? Why didn't she pick up that bag before she escaped that morning?
The thought of summoning it with a quick Accio crosses her mind more than once. She even raised her wand in the direction of the homely cottage through the woods, the spell forming on her lips before she thought better of a piece of luggage flying across a field in this muggle rich area.
Some Gryffindor she is.
She paces the length of her home, growing more frustrated with herself by the moment. It's a lovely day, and with the solstice approaching the daylight beckons well into the evening; surely a long walk will settle her. And if she finds herself at Malfoy's door, then so be it, that's where her feet led her.
Gathering her resolve she flings open the front door and steps out into the warm embrace of the afternoon.
A deep rumble echoes up the lane as she starts down her garden path, and before she can reach her gate, a black motorbike stops in front of her house. Killing the engine its rider dismounts, removing his helmet as he goes. The blond of his hair glints almost as bright as the chrome on his bike.
"You really do have a motorbike."
"Can't exactly fly my Firebolt all about the Cotswolds now can I?" He turns to lay the helmet on the seat and retrieves something from the saddlebag. Approaching her he discreetly enlarges his burden, her forgotten bag.
Reaching for it, Hermione grimaces "I was going to come get it… today." It sounds like a question to her ears, and Malfoy hears it too, chuckling at her.
His face is still bemused when she returns from stowing her bag inside, "Fancy a ride, Granger?" His smirk is dangerous; playful and promising, as he motions toward his bike.
Hermione lets the question hang on the air as she bites her lip in consideration. "Where's Scorpius?" She stalling, she knows she's stalling.
"With Mrs. Collingsworth. Her grandson is staying for a few days and he and Scorp get on great."
The inclination towards shock that his son has a muggle friend is fleeting. Malfoy has done naught but prove he is a changed man. "And you expect me to ride on that…" she waves at the motorbike shining at the edge of the lane. "That thing."
"Well we can't very well walk. It's much too far." He's smirking and still laughing at her reluctance.
"What's too far? Where are you taking me? Why can't we just Apparrate?" Why is she nervous? Surely by now they've spent an adequate amount of time in each other's presence?
He steps toward her, almost as if he's going to reach out and touch her. "Granger..." He softens his features. "I want to thank you for caring for Scorpius, and there's something I want to show you." Her shoulders fall in surrender. Now he does reach out for her hand, pulling her gently toward the motorbike. As he takes his place in the seat, he turns his eyes to her, "Get on the bike." His command is quiet if not a bit vulnerable. So, with a sigh she straddles the leather seat behind him as he retrieves another helmet.
The positive click of the strap seems to signal him, "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she answers.
The vibration from the engine and Malfoy's chuckle course through her as he pulls her arms around his middle. "You'll want to hang on then." And as he surges forth, Hermione grips him tighter. The feeling of clinging to Draco Malfoy for safety is not nearly as absurd as it might once have been.
The rolling hills of the English countryside stretch out before them in a verdant patchwork. Stone farmhouses dot the landscape and pastures of sheep seem to mirror the fleece of the clouds. Malfoy doesn't push the limits of speed and Hermione allows herself to relax into the ride, her chest nestled into his back. The road turns to packed dirt and the trees grow thicker as the drive takes them deeper into the country.
A flicker of magic washes over Hermione when the trees begin to open up once more. Malfoy slows the bike and brings it to a stop beneath an ancient oak standing sentinel at the base of a hill.
Dismounting, Malfoy stows the helmets and tucks a small parcel from the saddle bag in his pocket. "Do you mind walking from here, Granger?"
She shakes her head and they start up the hill. Magic grows thicker as they climb and when the top of the hill comes into view, the ruins of a castle shimmer into existence.
With a gasp, Hermione rushes forward, her hand caressing the time-worn stones with reverence. "This is beautiful." When she turns to Malfoy to ask more about this place, she finds him observing her, half smile on his face and his hands shoved in his pockets. She tucks a loose curl behind her ear and returns his smile. "What is this place?"
He finally comes forward, his fingers trailing the wall. "Would you believe me if I said I didn't know."
"How can you not know!?" Knowledge is a currency Hermione trades in freely, not knowing would drive her mad.
He just shrugs, "I found it on a ride not long after I got the bike. The muggles don't know it's here, likely never have, and you'll have to excuse me if I didn't run for the library to find out."
The effort in her glare is half-hearted at best.
"Besides," he continues as he ducks into an archway, "the mystery makes it more exciting." He winks and disappears.
Following him through the archway she's completely taken by the beauty of the ruins. Sunlight filters in through cracks in the walls and plays in dappled patterns along the floor as it shines between the leaves and vines winding along the structure. The warm protective magic envelopes her, recognizing her as a kindred. She imagines in the days before the organized Ministry, and the Statute of Secrecy; when those with magic were hunted, this place may have welcomed and sheltered all those of magical blood.
"Malfoy?" Her voice bounces off the walls. "Malfoy, where did you go?"
He doesn't answer, but the flow of magic draws her toward an arch in the back wall. She finds him there, standing at the remains of an old stone balustrade, the countryside stretching before him. Joining him feels like an intrusion, but he turns and stepping away from the railing he jerks his head for her to follow him.
There are large stones scattered along the slope and he offers his hand to help her descend. His grip is firm, warm and safe; and he doesn't let go of her hand as he leads her to a spot beneath another gnarled oak.
When he does release her hand it's to enlarge a picnic basket and spread a blanket in the shade of the tree.
She's speechless. Draco Malfoy is laying out a picnic. A picnic he prepared for her.
"Butterbeer, Granger?" He's lounging on the same plaid blanket where she watched for fireflies with Scorpius, and he's surrounded by containers of marinated cheese, hummus, rounds of flatbread he probably made with his own hands, and a container full of colorful vegetables. He brings his own frosty bottle of butterbeer to his lips and raises his eyebrows to her almost in challenge.
Surreal. This entire scenario is surreal. But she accepts a beverage of her own and takes her place on the blanket across from him.
The afternoon sun ambles across the sky, the shade of the oak expanding as they enjoy the food and the embrace of the castle's ancient magic.
"When did you move here?" Hermione asks, looking at the flatbread in her hand instead of him.
The rustle of his trousers as he shifts on the blanket is the only sound for a moment before he answers. "After Scorpius was born." It's a simple answer, vague, Malfoy doesn't give much away. Hermione doesn't push, curiosity be damned. "Why did you leave the Ministry?"
A small laugh escapes her, her debacle of a Ministry career feels like a lifetime ago. "They shoved me in a cubicle with a little rubber stamp and trotted me out for special occasions. 'Look at us, we have the Golden Girl, aren't we grand'." Her mocking tone earns a chuckle from Malfoy. "I wanted to change the world, but all I ever did was review business permits before they went to final approval."
"And now?"
"Oh, I'm still going to change the world." Their eyes finally meet. "It's just going to look different from my original plan." A real smile threatens his face.
An easy silence falls around them as they finish their picnic and Malfoy vanishes the rubbish and shrinks the hamper and blanket, replacing them in his pocket.
He offers his hand again and leads her back to the castle. "There's something I want you to see."
Pulling her into an alcove, he leads her up a hidden stone staircase. They emerge at the top of the structure and Hermione gasps. The county stretches before her in panorama, the afternoon sun bathing the fields in golden light. "It's so beautiful."
They stand side by side at the top wall of the ruins. Hermione chances a glance down and startles back. "Are you sure this thing is stable?"
"Of course, Granger," he chuckles as he leans more of his weight onto the stones. After a moment of hesitation she steps back to the side, mimicking his posture.
"I never saw anything like this growing up." Malfoy stares off into the distance, the retreating light reflecting in his eyes in a prism of colors. "The Manor grounds were so heavily warded… everything beyond a certain point was hazy. The first time I saw a proper sunset was at Hogwarts."
Hermione stares off across the landscape, thinking of the way the sun would disappear over the highland crags surrounding her beloved school; the last rays of light glinting on the Black Lake as the squid splashed from its depths. And finally her voice finds purchase on her lips. "I remember the first time my parents and I went out to see the sunset."
Lost in the memory, she doesn't see him watching her. "I was five and we came to the cottage here. They took me out to the back garden and I lay between them on a blanket while the sky faded into orange and pink." With her eyes closed she lets the feeling of that love and security wash over her and somewhere in her soul she feels the magic of the ruins console her in the sorrow at their loss. "A star finally winked into existence and my father told me to make a wish… But I didn't have anything to wish for. I couldn't imagine wanting more than I had at that moment."
A silence falls around them, thick and charged; and when Malfoy speaks again his voice is almost a whisper. "Is there anything you'd wish for now?"
She can only nod in response, trying to blink away the tears building on her lashes.
I can't wait to hear what y'all think! The follows/favorites and reviews have been incredible! Thank you all soooo much!
Mcal! Thank you for your support, encouragement and all the alpha/beta work you did for this story! You're amazing, my dear friend!