In Dreams wrote this chapter.
Hermione wasn't certain what she had been expecting during the brief meeting at Grimmauld Place, wherein she and Draco had been filled in on their mission, but her vague imaginings didn't measure up to what was actually before her.
Naylen had been drawn away into conversation, leaving Hermione and Draco to their own devices for a short while. As they ventured farther in, she found herself blown away by the structure of their operations. Groups of people gathered between the tents, but deeper in still, more congregated around a long table where several others were serving a meal.
To his credit, Draco looked unperturbed by the mass of Muggles who wouldn't have hesitated to kill them if they learned they were actually a witch and wizard attempting to infiltrate their organisation.
As they neared the larger tent in the distance, they exchanged a glance. If they were to discover anything about the Muggles' device—and how it might correspond to the one this dimension's Draco had crafted—they would need to figure out how to get in there without their purpose being found out.
A group of fighters practiced with swords, and the clanging drew her gaze. Still more Muggles lined up in range of a series of targets, firing clean bullseyes.
"Let me guess," Hermione breathed, glancing sidelong at her companion. "You can shoot a bow as well?"
The bridge of his nose crinkled. "Not well. Probably something we'll need to learn."
It was startling how rapidly she had come to depend on him, when it had only been earlier that day that she had stumbled across him on Whitehall. She had simply chosen to trust—perhaps blindly—in the fact that, for whatever reason, they were in this together. And if they wanted to get out, they would have to go through.
The light of day was beginning to fade, and it occurred to Hermione how unprepared the two of them actually were for this scenario. The day had felt painfully long with all its twists. Perhaps the Draco and Hermione from this dimension might have known what was expected of them, but they'd had weeks or even months to prepare.
Her gaze fell once more on the massive white tent ahead, and she swallowed. There was no safe way to speak out in the open, and without their wands they had no way of keeping their conversations hidden.
"There you two are!" Naylen interrupted, striding forth with a stern pucker to his brow. "I apologise for the delay. We'll get you situated, I suppose."
Turning on the spot, he began pacing in the opposite direction of the large tent, and Hermione moved to follow, Draco falling easily into stride.
It was difficult to say, since they had only just met the man, but Naylen looked distracted, his expression faraway. The three of them walked in silence through the tents until he turned to them with a thin approximation of a smile near the outside edge of what appeared to be a ring of tents circling the central area from which they'd come.
"We don't usually have spare accommodations, but we lost a couple of good fighters last week to the Deaths, and haven't yet filled their tent." With a grimace and a twitch of his lips, he added, "And no one wants to share with a pair of newlyweds, if you get my drift."
Hermione stared at the tent in question, feeling warmth creep up her neck and flare in her cheeks. Draco simply chuckled, slinging an arm around her shoulders as he gave Naylen a self-deprecating sort of look.
"We appreciate that," he said, giving her a squeeze. "Poor timing, of course, to marry during these times. But doesn't it make you realise the importance of seizing any shred at happiness in life?"
"I hear that, Phil." Naylen softened a little. Hermione carefully schooled her reaction at the alias. "Look, I've got meetings this evening, but I'll let you two find your bearings. Dinner is served until eight and after that, you're on your own. I wouldn't venture too far into the forest around here, you'd be lucky to only come across the guards. The tent should have some supplies, and if you need anything else, head to the main area where I found you—we call it the plaza. Someone will be able to help you out."
"Thank you," she murmured, while Draco clapped Naylen on the shoulder. With its packed earth floor and smattering of mismatched tables and benches, Hermione had never seen anything look less like a plaza.
"Meet me tomorrow morning back in the plaza and we'll take it from there." Naylen turned to walk away, and while Hermione gave a cursory scan of the weapons visible on his person, he stopped, his head swivelling back to face them. "You'll understand my reticence, of course, given we don't know you. But just know that there's always someone watching. I wouldn't try anything funny or you might come to wish you hadn't."
A shiver crept, unbidden, along Hermione's spine and she felt her pulse pick up from the adrenaline.
But Draco chuckled again, glancing away with an easy wave. "'Course, mate. I'd be wary too."
After a stilted nod, Naylen turned to walk away.
Hermione lingered for a long moment, keenly aware of the way Draco's arm still rested on her shoulders, although after the day they'd had, the gesture was oddly comforting.
Reaching for the zip of the tent, he pulled the flap open. "After you. Wife."
Biting down hard on her lip, Hermione ducked inside the tent, waiting until he had entered and secured the door in place. The space was confined, barely large enough for the two of them. It featured one double cot with a pair of rolled up sleeping bags, and a small shelf was built into the nylon fabric on one side. The light coming through the walls cast a burnt orange tinge over everything.
A flicker of distaste crossed his face as he stood with a bit of a hunch from the low ceiling.
"This is cozy." His tone carried a hint of disdain as he dropped his bag to the thin floor in one corner.
"The most important thing is that we aren't being forced to stay with anyone else," she said, careful to keep her words hushed. Hermione wasn't particularly happy about it either, but they hadn't been expecting fine accommodations. "And at least we aren't sleeping on the ground."
"I've never understood that element of Muggle culture," Draco grumbled, hauling a few things out of his pack and laying them on the inset shelf. Hermione recognised a couple of the items he had picked up at the hardware store in Diagon Alley, but they hadn't been able to bring anything magical in nature. "Can't say I've ever had a great desire to sleep with a tree root digging into my spine."
Despite herself, Hermione snickered. "It isn't particularly enjoyable."
His gaze lingered on the door before he settled cross-legged on the bare cot. Through the thin walls of the tent, Hermione surmised they would be able to see if anyone was near.
"We need to talk this through, now that we're here," he said quietly. Hermione took up a seat facing him on the cot that was narrow enough for one of her knees to nudge his. His gaze caught hers, a hint of humour playing in his stare. "Never mind the sleeping arrangements, of course. We are married after all."
Scowling, Hermione glanced away. "Which you never mentioned beforehand, I'll add."
"You would have disagreed. And we needed a believable story." Hermione didn't respond, picking at a loose thread in the canvas weaving of the cot. "We need to find out what's going on in that tent, and I think our best chance is to stage it as an accident."
"We'll go to the plaza for dinner," Hermione inferred. "And explore a bit."
Draco's tongue flicked out, moistening his lips. "Precisely. And it won't hurt to practice up with these weapons a bit more. Maybe try our skill with a bow and arrow."
"We have to find a way to check in with the Order at some point," she murmured, giving the idea some consideration. "Although I'm not sure we'll be able to just walk away from here. Not if there are guards in the forests."
"No," he agreed with a grimace. "We'll need to figure something else out. But our first priority needs to be that device. And it won't hurt to gain some trust around here."
Nodding, she released a deep breath. "It sounds like a plan."
After a few minutes of stowing and organising their things, they left the tent and made their way back towards the plaza, tucking away a few covert weapons on themselves. Hermione jumped and nearly recoiled when Draco slipped his hand into hers, but his firm grip served to both ground her and act as a warning.
His hand was smooth, his hold reassuring, when he laced their fingers and tugged her closer, a teasing smile on his lips.
He was a way better actor than she was. The sobering thought crossed her mind that he must have had a lot of practice after surviving his seventh year at Hogwarts.
Once they arrived at the food table, however, seeing a number of other people eating at various picnic tables, his reasoning became clear. Many of the Muggles eyed them with suspicion or intrigue as newcomers. But the idea of them as a newlywed couple, friendly and warm, put the suspicion at ease.
It made them look less like trained fighters—attempting to infiltrate their facility—and more like a young couple just trying to integrate in order to survive. When they collected a tray of food—rations of some sort of lumpy stew with misshapen dinner rolls—and settled into a table with a few others, Hermione was instantly grateful for his quick thinking.
As a result, she found herself smiling up at him, leaning a little more into his touch, and doing her best to play her part. If it meant their stumbling across the large tent a short distance away would be a believable accident, and thereby allow them to leave this dreadful situation sooner than later, she was willing to do what it took.
And Draco, with all of his charm and charisma, smiled in return, embedding warmth in the pit of her stomach at the glint in his eye.
By the time they returned their empty dishes to the food table, they'd actually made some friends.
Although everyone around them wore weapons, Hermione was grateful they'd kept to covert knives, disinterested in looking on the offense their first night in the Collective's camp.
Over dinner, they had learned the people of the Collective operated on a schedule during the day, beginning at eight o'clock in the morning. Hermione privately decided if they wanted to impress Naylen, they would eat an early breakfast and be ready in advance. Various forms of weapons training in the morning, more training or strategy meetings in the afternoon, and organised raids at prearranged times throughout.
Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's once more as they walked around and greeted others, attempting to look more interested in him than what was going on around them. Groups of people huddled at various tables in conversation, and she tried to keep a running count in the back of her mind.
There were several times the number of people as tents, from what they had seen upon arriving, and it was apparent that many of them must be staying in some of the tents together. Once more, she felt a flicker of gratitude for Draco's backstory.
The sun dropped rapidly, leaving the camp in darkness but for the orange light of tall torches buried in the packed earth. And with the falling darkness, the workers at the food table packed up, and most others trickled back to their tents.
Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance.
He leaned closer, looping an arm around her and grinning into her hair as he led her on a meandering path towards the large tent they'd been eyeing since their arrival. Playing her part, Hermione grinned up at him, keeping her body turned towards him while she gazed around as quickly as possible once they entered the tent.
The bright, neon lighting in the tent was a stark contrast compared to the sparse torches outside, and numerous people lingered about, tools and weapons organised carefully, hanging in lockers along one wall. Several men in full combat gear stood guard near the trove.
And towards the far corner, others slaved over a single workbench.
When Hermione's vision slid back to the front, a stern looking man with close-cropped hair stepped before them, wearing a deep frown.
Extracting his arm from around her, Draco proffered a hand, standing alert. "Phillip Higgs. My wife, Beth. We've just arrived." Hermione offered a smile and a nod.
The man didn't react to either of them and Draco slid his hand back into his pocket. "This tent is only accessible to those within the Collective with proper clearance."
"Is it?" Draco's brows lifted with surprise. "I apologise—we weren't aware."
The man's frown lessened. "Naylen ought to have told you."
While Draco engaged the man in conversation, sharing several overreaching and untrue details about the two of them, Hermione anxiously scanned the far back corner where the workers were so intent. They were too far away for her to properly see what they were working on, but Hermione counted four of them, and they looked to be in some sort of heated discussion.
Two of them wore long white lab coats, while the others wore combat fatigues like the man before them and the other guarding the weapons cache.
She couldn't see anything else, and when Draco's arm coiled around her back, his fingers resting on her hip, she glanced back towards the man with a smile.
"We'll just carry on with our walk outside." Draco cracked a grin as he clapped the man on the shoulder. "Thanks for understanding."
The man's countenance had visibly relaxed since they'd entered the tent and Hermione wondered again at Draco's easy way of bending impressions. Ron had been wrong—he certainly wasn't useless at all. In fact, he'd been arguably more useful than she had since they had arrived at the Collective.
The man gave them both a nod. "Enjoy your evening. Nice night out."
Hermione noticed Draco's gaze flick briefly towards the weapons stash, but just as quickly, he was smiling back at her and leading her from the tent. The sun was fully down, the sky a deep indigo, and only a few people lingered in the plaza when they passed back through.
They carried on in aloof silence until they made their way back to their own private tent, acting as a couple in love with nowhere to be. But he turned towards her once they were safely inside.
"So, obviously they're hiding something. It doesn't surprise me that we weren't allowed to be in there."
"Right," Hermione agreed. "Whatever they were doing in the back looked contentious, and I'd wager it has something to do with the device Harry's looking for."
"Probably." Draco frowned, dropping his chin into a hand as he settled on the bed. "The question is how are we going to get to it. The trust we're developing here is fragile, and if we make one wrong move, I think we can count on being kicked out. Or worse."
Hermione stared at him for a long moment, adrenaline active in her veins. "We'll need to do something drastic to get the guards to leave the tent. What if we stage an attack or something?"
He frowned. "Maybe. The most important thing is getting to that device—however possible."
Sighing, Hermione nodded, sinking back on her side of the cot. "We'll just have to keep observing things and watch for an opening."
"Did you get a good look at the people working on the device?" Draco's words were cautious, measured. "That might be a route we can consider as well."
"Difficult," Hermione mused, "since they were so far away. But I might be able to pick them out."
Draco rose from his seat and laid his sleeping bag out along the cot, the bridge of his nose wrinkled as he fluffed one of the thin pillows that had been supplied for them. Looking displeased with his poor substitute for a proper bed, he shrugged out of his jumper, and without warning, released the closure on his jeans and tugged them down.
"Malfoy!" Hermione spun around with a hand over her face, reverting back to his surname in her surprise. "You can't just—"
"I apologise," he drawled. "I didn't bring my pajamas when I was unceremoniously uprooted from my life."
She scowled at him sidelong as he slipped into his sleeping bag in his shorts and a t-shirt, more so at the reminder that she wouldn't be very comfortable in her own jeans. She huffed. "I'm not wearing my knickers in front of you."
"Do what you like." He latched his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling of the tent. "But we are married, remember?"
She didn't have to look at him to hear his smirk. Folding her arms, she chewed her bottom lip. "Fine. Turn around, please."
There was a scuffling of fabric and when she glanced his way, Draco faced the opposite wall of the tent. Quickly, Hermione slipped off her jumper and jeans before tucking herself into her sleeping bag. The cool air hit her skin, digging into her through the thin fabric of her threadbare sleeping bag.
Draco rolled to look at the ceiling again. "What a fucking day."
"Agreed," Hermione said with a titter. "I certainly wasn't expecting any of this."
His eyes flickered to hers for an extended moment. "The sooner we can get this all dealt with, the sooner we can figure out a way back to our time. Or space. Or what have you."
"I think it's a different timeline." Hermione was cautious of the thin walls and the nearby tents. "Harry and Ron are the same age here as they are where we came from, so my guess is these events are occurring simultaneously."
With a grimace, he said, "I didn't even know that was real."
"It's all theoretical. Or was." Her lips curled with a thought. "It's actually quite—"
"Don't say this is fascinating." They both fell silent until he snickered and shook his head. "Legitimately, this is bollocks. But… I suppose maybe it's interesting."
Flashing him a grin, Hermione nudged him with her elbow through the fabric of their sleeping bags. Almost instantly, she wrapped her arms around herself again, feeling another chill dart through her. She clenched her teeth, tucking herself deeper into her sleeping bag.
"Get some sleep." Draco stifled a wide yawn behind his hand. "We'll have another big day ahead of us tomorrow."
"Right," Hermione agreed, nodding. "Good night, then."
He rolled onto his side, his back facing her, and Hermione attempted to make herself comfortable. The walls of the tent did very little to suppress the cold air in the forest, and she wished desperately for her wand. Even if she were able to summon a small amount of wandless magic, if the Muggle device could detect instances of magic, they would be found out. She would simply have to grit her teeth and tough it out, hoping she would eventually find some rest.
Teeth clattering, she tugged the sleeping bag up over her head.
"Can you stop shaking?" Draco drawled.
"I can't," she hissed back, irritation creeping in. "It's cold out here."
"It isn't that cold."
After several more minutes of Hermione shifting in an effort to tuck herself even deeper into her sleeping bag, Draco finally sighed and rolled around to face her. "Are you serious?"
She scowled at him even as a flicker of embarrassment crept up her throat. "I'm a naturally cold person."
For a long moment, Draco chewed on his tongue between his molars, shaking his head slowly in contemplation. "Fuck. Fine. We'll share, then."
Before she could even comprehend his meaning, he had zipped his bag open and reached for the pull of hers. Hermione squealed and pulled herself away, but he only swatted her hand away and dragged her across the cot by her fabric cocoon.
"We'll just join them together," he explained in a hushed voice, frowning as her zipper pull got stuck. "Body heat and all that."
"We will not!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice high pitched.
Draco rolled his eyes and stared hard at her for a moment. "Freeze, then. But do it on the floor so you aren't keeping me awake as well."
"I'm wearing my knickers." She was grateful for the dark so he couldn't see the colour flaring in her cheeks. "I'm not—"
"Merlin, Granger," he growled, carding a hand through his hair. "I'm not about to take advantage of you in your bloody sleep. If you don't want to be cold, we'll have to share. It's basic survival." His expression softened as he looked at her, a flicker of indecision in his stare. "It doesn't have to mean anything."
Hermione felt herself crack and relent, and with a sigh, she relinquished her hold on the bag, allowing him to first unzip hers, and then zip the two together. Almost instantly, she felt the heat emanating from his body and scowled at his logic despite herself.
In separate bags with two layers of fabric between them, it had been easy enough to pretend they weren't sharing the same narrow cot. But now Hermione was all too aware of the lack of space between them and the fact that she was only half-dressed. When his leg grazed against hers as he shifted, her eyes snapped up to his.
Draco looked uncomfortable, and though it was difficult to tell, she thought she could see colour in his cheeks.
At last, he cleared his throat. "Better?"
"Better," Hermione whispered, her voice a little breathy.
Within the conjoined sleeping bag, it was nearly impossible to keep from touching him, and her shoulder nudged him when she attempted to get comfortable. She felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the trapped heat, and suddenly wondered whether she would even find sleep this way.
His toes pressed briefly against hers before pulling away, and in the gentle light from the moon filtering through the walls, she could see the hard line to his jaw. "Good night, Granger."
"Good night."
Draco closed his eyes, the lines of his face smoothing into something peaceful and soft, and she found herself staring while her eyelids began to flutter, the rush of the day finally catching up with her as she drifted into an uneasy slumber.
When Hermione stirred awake the next morning, it took an extended moment to remember where she was.
And another to realise she was excessively warm, when she had been cold the night before.
And a third, drawn out, to recognise the precarious situation she found herself in.
Her bare legs were tangled with Draco's, one arm slung haphazardly around his waist, and her face was mashed against his chest. His arm was coiled around her shoulders, his hand lingering near the middle of her back.
A finger of dread crept along her spine as she froze, attempting to minimise her breathing in an effort to keep him from waking. When she had agreed to join their sleeping bags the night before, she hadn't expected to wake up quite so compromised.
His hold around her was firmer than she had initially realised, as she learned when she attempted to maneuver away from his grip. With a quiet sigh, he shifted, his hand tightening around her, though his eyes remained closed, a soft furrow between his brows.
Objectively, Hermione had always acknowledged, somewhere deep down, that Draco Malfoy was attractive. But for many years he had treated her so poorly that she had never allowed herself to ruminate on the thought.
Now, finding herself sharing a cot with the bloke and suddenly trapped in his iron grip, she was forced to come to terms with the way his proximity stirred something within her. Most interesting was the fact that she felt comfortable and safe in his embrace, a thought she would have laughed at just two days earlier.
Caught between the need to escape and the desire for him not to awaken—surely he would never let her live it down—she found a third option niggling in the back of her mind.
To simply relax in the security of his hold and allow herself a moment of peace. If she were to pretend she was still asleep, he couldn't hold it against her if she didn't alert him to their awkward positioning.
In her estimation, based on the lighting through the burnt orange walls of their tent, it wasn't time for them to get up quite yet, so she cautiously shifted back into a comfortable position, allowing her eyes to slide shut. After all, they would surely need all the rest they could get for the day ahead of them.
Draco shifted again, and Hermione kept her eyes shut in case he woke up, but his hand only shifted along the small of her back, nearing the curve of her arse. Holding her breath, she held as still as she could manage.
But then his fingers played along the skin below the hem of her shirt, nearing the band of her knickers, and Hermione's eyes snapped open, ready to jump back.
His eyes remained closed, his fingers stilling loosely against the skin of her back. She couldn't tell if he was aware of his actions, but her eyes tightened instinctively.
"What," he drawled, his voice gravelly with sleep, "are you doing?"
"Me!" Hermione hissed, cautious to keep her voice down. "You're the one who won't let go of me."
His eyes slid open only to roll with derision, and she could have sworn his lips twitched just for a moment. "It sort of feels like you're trying to take advantage."
Huffing at the affront, Hermione attempted to disentangle herself from his hold, but he only offered an ostentatious yawn and held firm, squinting through the orange haze in the tent. When Hermione took hold of his wrist and physically removed it from her back, he snickered.
Draco rolled onto his back, releasing her at last, and stretched his arms out in the small space. "We should probably get up and get some breakfast before we're to meet with Naylen."
"Fine." In her urgency to escape the confines of their shared sleeping bag, Hermione shifted free, and his eyes lingered for just a moment on her bare legs before he politely averted his gaze. Feeling colour creep into her cheeks, Hermione dressed quickly with her back to him, and when she turned around, he was fully clothed as well. She faced him expectantly. "Weapons?"
Hesitating for a moment, he stared at her before nodding. "I think so. We'll probably have some time to practice. And Merlin knows if something goes wrong we might need them."
Hermione frowned at the thought but offered a stilted nod, slipping various knives into their holsters on her person. Draco strapped the sheathed katana onto his back, holstered his pistol at his belt, and left several other knives and daggers showing.
Through a twinge of uneasiness, she offered, "I guess we're forsaking the innocent newlyweds thing."
"We're still newlyweds," he returned with a bit of a wink, "only today we're prepared to defend ourselves if need be."
Once they'd gathered everything they might need and tucked the rest of it safely away—a challenge, given the limited space in their tent—they made their way towards the plaza. A number of people already sat at the assortment of tables eating breakfast or roamed the training pits.
Draco flashed her a grin. "Find us a table will you, love? I'll get breakfast."
Her stomach twisted at the endearment, even as she managed a tight nod. She wasn't keen on the idea of the two of them separating, but they needed to look as if they were doing their best to integrate into the group. Hermione slipped onto the bench at a table with one of the men they had met the night before at dinner and another woman she didn't recognise. She thought the man's name was Eris.
Across the plaza towards the large research and storage tent, she could see one of the men in white lab coats from the night before, speaking rapidly with a woman in combat fatigues before ducking into the tent.
"Interesting, isn't it?" Eris asked, taking a sip of his juice. "All that secretive work."
Hermione snapped her attention away from the tent, feeling the colour drain from her face. But the man was eyeing the tent as well. "Pardon me?"
"Whatever they're doing in there," the other woman added. "Must be important."
Draco slipped into the seat beside her with a tray of food, planting a kiss to her cheek so brief she didn't have a chance to react beyond blinking dumbly at him. But he was already placing a plate of food in front of her and turning towards Eris.
"You don't know?" Draco asked, eyeing the pair across from them. "Top secret, from what we've heard."
"Naw, mate." Eris waved a hand, peering over his shoulder once more. The man in the lab coat and the woman in fatigues were both gone. "Only the ones working in there know anything about it. And Naylen, of course, but he keeps things close to the vest, doesn't he?"
"Right." Hermione took a careful bite of her potatoes.
Eris leaned in, his eyes flickering between his companion and the two of them. "Word is, something in there is going to turn the tides of this blasted war. Put the wizards at a disadvantage for once. No one knows if that's true, though. Or even what it is." With a grimace, he sat back. "Seems to me magic is a pretty big advantage they've got."
"Bollocks is what it is. Not all of the wizards are bad though, from what we're seen." Draco nodded at Hermione. "Just the bloody Death Eaters, yeah?"
Scrunching up his nose, Eris shrugged. "Haven't seen a wizard unwilling to draw his wand to protect himself against us. Death Eaters are the worst, of course, but they're all rotten if you ask me."
Hermione caught Draco's eye just for a moment, but it was long enough to surmise he was thinking the same thing. This group might be harder to persuade in working with the Order than Harry and the rest were expecting.
The four of them ate their breakfast in silence. Several minutes later, Eris and his companion collected their trays and walked away, leaving Hermione and Draco to stew in the tension that remained until Naylen slipped into the bench across from them.
"I see you're ready for training," Naylen said by way of greeting, eyeing their weapons. "Good. You'll be training in the pits for the morning. I've got some meetings, but I'll check in when I can—and I'll collect reports on your progress from the instructors later."
"Sounds good." Hermione attempted to force some confidence onto her face. If nothing else, it would be a chance to improve her minimal skills.
Naylen hesitated for a moment, glancing between them. "It isn't a requirement that you're skilled at combat, but we do like to see effort and we value improvement."
Beneath the table, Draco's foot nudged hers, but she had already picked up the message. If they worked hard and integrated into the group, they'd likely get to stay. And if they wanted any chance at learning about the device, and passing on the Order's offer of assistance, they needed to stay.
With a tight smile, Draco said, "Sounds good. We'll do our best."
Naylen rose to his feet and nodded. Left to their own devices once more, Draco caught her eye, his lips curling with a smirk. "Archery?"
"Archery," Hermione echoed instantly, flashing him a grin. She'd had her eye on the bows and arrows since the night before. She collected their empty dishes on the tray and rose, returning them to the meal table on their way to the pits.
Draco tugged her hand into his, a seemingly natural act that nearly made her flinch, and he quipped, "Loser owes the winner a drink."
Sometimes he was a little too good with the act.
Almost two hours later, with the late-morning sun beating down on her, Hermione found herself cursing their decision to begin with archery because they both had little to show for their time. The archery instructor had been patient with them, teaching them the basics. The only good part was that Hermione had managed to land a couple shots along the outside rings of her target, while Draco only grew increasingly agitated at the next target over.
She snickered at a particularly vulgar string of curses and he fired her a scowl.
Lining up her next shot, Hermione blew out a steadying breath, aware of his eyes on her. Relaxing the way the instructor had taught her and carefully drawing the string back, she released the arrow.
When it struck the target within the second ring out from the bullseye, Draco scoffed, offering a facetious smile.
"Well done, Beth!" the instructor exclaimed with a nod.
Making a face, Draco mockingly echoed, "Well done, Beth," before returning to his efforts, grumbling to himself all the while.
Hermione only flashed him a grin.
After a brief lunch break, he dragged her into the sword fighting pits, and she couldn't determine whether he wanted to prove he was good at something because of Naylen's evaluation, or if he was still disgruntled with her performance in the archery lesson.
But within an hour, the afternoon heat weighed them down, and Hermione found herself worn to exhaustion. Draco was good enough with a sword that the instructor had more or less left them to themselves, merely observing from a distance while they fought with dulled blades.
She felt herself slowly learning the footwork, parrying his blows with increasing comfort, but she felt clumsy and slow compared to his quick steps and easy slashes. More than once she'd found herself caught at the edge of his harmless blade.
And when he stopped to walk her through the movements, coming up alongside her to maneuver her body, Hermione couldn't help the flush that had nothing to do with the heat.
Idly, she hoped this meant the tent wouldn't be so cold that night and that they wouldn't have to share their sleeping bags again.
She was certain, by the time they left the sword fighting ring, she had angered muscles she'd never used before; she didn't look forward to the way she was bound to feel the next day.
They spent a bit of time learning how to properly utilise their knives, discovering a few tricks and practicing distance throws. By the time they dragged themselves to the plaza, Hermione was fatigued from the heat and the physical exertion.
Digging into their meals, neither of them noticed as Naylen slipped into a spot at their table until he chuckled. "A meal well-earned, or so I'm told."
Hermione caught Draco's eye for a moment, swallowing a bite of her meal.
His expression falling serious, Naylen looked between the pair of them. "I'm glad to hear you took the training lessons today seriously. It shows you both value your place here—and it sounds like you've been integrating into the group well."
With a knit between his brows, Draco nodded. "We've been trying. It is important to us."
Naylen frowned, observing the pair of them. "We don't trust easily, and that means we'll still be keeping an eye on you. We've been burnt too many times and lost too many good fighters. But I'd like to offer you both a spot here in the Collective."
Feeling a thrill of anticipation, Hermione smiled. It was the first step towards following through with the plan—and with their eventual return home. "Thank you."
"We appreciate that," Draco said, his jaw hard. "We won't let you down."
"I certainly hope not." Naylen's tone was tinged with a hint of humour, but something darker lingered behind his words. "You'll regret it if you do."
Draco's heel dug into her foot and Hermione's smile lingered through sheer force of will until Naylen rose and walked away.