Draco woke with a warm sense of contentment. He smiled not opening his eyes, snuggling further into his blankets. The shift brought his face into a patch of sunlight and he grumbled, rolling over unwilling to surrender to the morning. He would have to rise eventually as Father insisted the family breakfast together but until one of the house elves prodded him, he could linger abed. Nice warm bed.
Very warm bed. He kicked off some of the covers and shifted again, encountering someone who smelled and felt unmistakably of girl. Draco sighed. If Pansy had snuck into his room again, Mother would not be amused. She had told them both off for indulging in their childhood habit of sleeping together though she had not informed either of their fathers. He nudged his companion, who didn't rouse.
Draco muttered a word his mother would certainly inform on him for using and sat up, opening his eyes not to find himself in his bedroom. He stared at the walls half panelled in oak with floral paper above. The soft greens and blues were to his taste and he couldn't object to the décor. Whoever had abducted him had good taste.
He slid out of the bed carefully then stumbled, unaccustomed to the length of his legs. Draco stared at his bare feet. They were larger than he recalled. Hastily examining himself, he discovered a bristling chin and a stranger's night attire. Borrowed silk pyjamas did not seem to indicate kidnapping. Had he and Blaise got rat-arsed on his stepfather's liquor and stumbled through a floo? It had been done before. Father had not been amused.
The unshaven chin was an anomaly. Walking like a newborn colt, Draco made a circuit of the room, finding a panel that led into a small bathroom. The mirror above the sink gave him more questions than answers. He was still himself, just older and tired and thinner. Had he been cursed? The Weasel twins had made aging potions to get their names in the Cup. He wouldn't put it past them to tamper with the food.
Draco rubbed his face and noticed a ring of reddened skin around his left wrist. Pushing up his sleeve to investigate the damage, he saw. He saw... He shoved his sleeve down hurriedly. But he wanted it, didn't he? Just like his father. His destiny. A mark of his family's pride, a testament to their adherence to tradition. Respect.
He staggered out of the bathroom and leaned against the wall, chasing the breath that had seemed to leave him in a rush. Needed to calm down. Needed to compose himself. Draco gulped for air and after a bit the hammering in his chest eased. Pansy would know what was going on. He'd ask her, clandestinely, then figure out where he was. The important thing was to pretend he already knew so he wouldn't be at a disadvantage.
Feigning aplomb, Draco returned to the bed. He hesitated when he noticed long brown hair on the pillow. Not Pansy. Daphne perhaps? That would be awkward. She was betrothed to Marcus Flint and his former team Captain held grudges. Besmirching his affianced would definitely merit a worse beating than losing a Quidditch game to Potty.
"Good morning." He shook a bump in the bedding he presumed to be a shoulder. "We've slept in." That seemed a socially neutral remark. "Wake up."
"Go away." The muttered reply did not sound like Daphne. She always affected a soft, ingratiating tone very much at odds with her personality. Draco prodded again and was rewarded with the witch sitting up abruptly, glaring and rumpled.
"Granger." He was so surprised it wasn't even a question. It was Granger, not Pansy or Daphne. Granger looking quite a bit more um in a singlet. Draco hastily snapped his eyes to her face. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, too astonished to sneer.
"Did it work?" Hermione brushed hair off her face. She hadn't braided it before going to sleep so now it was triffiding everywhere. He stared at her, grey eyes wide in an oddly smooth face. The tension in him had gone. He looked disconcerted and somewhat offended but the bone-deep fear had gone. Was that a good sign?
"What have you done?" Draco knew that old fool Dumbledore had given his extra-special Muggle pet something last year. She been more insufferable than usual. And this year! Bloody Potter at the World Cup. He warned them. Tried to. The Dark Lord was rising. Risen. His lungs felt white as his breath left him again. Draco grabbed at the bed to steady himself, his legs betraying him.
He ended up sprawled half on the floor, half in Granger's arms after she lunged to catch him. She smelled of violets and iron, which was such an absurd combination that he wondered if he were dreaming. Perhaps he and Blaise really had been at the whiskey and now he was lying sottish hallucinating how nice it was to be held by a witch who cared for him.
"Yesterday, I presume it's yesterday, we went into a salt mine. You, Theo and I. Do you remember?" Hermione asked slowly, trying to piece together her own recollections. She helped him onto the bed so he could lie down. He was sweating, his breathing too rapid. "We're in Viktor's house. You're safe."
"It was dark." What a stupid thing to say. Anywhere could be dark. Draco stared at the canopy and Hermione above him. "I don't know." He tried to be calm about this. He did know, didn't he? He didn't think she was lying. He didn't want to believe her but he did. He didn't want to remember but it was trickling back. "The manacles."
"That's right." Hermione rubbed his hands suddenly gone cold. "We broke the binding in the null. Tried to, anyway." She glanced about for her wand, spotting it on the bedside table. Reaching out for it, the wood snapped into her grasp as though anxious to return. "Just hold this. See if you can sense any connection."
Feeling ridiculous for feeling shy about touching a witch's wand, he wrapped his fingers around the shaft and tried hard not to think inappropriate thoughts about Theo. Hermione and Theo. Hermione and Theo and him in bed. When warmth spread up his arm, Draco was relieved for the distraction. He was unprepared for the reaction from Hermione.
"I can feel your hand on my wand." She spoke slowly, carefully, deliberately to make a simple observation without alarming him. The witch clenched her hand, still feeling the polished surface of her wand against her palm. "Lumos."
The wand in Draco's hand lit brightly. They stared at it.
"Nox." The blond said then sighed with relief when the light on the wand's tip extinguished. "Lumos." It worked again, the tingle of magic commonplace as though the energy had never left him. He felt a little dilute, for want of a better word. A bit thin or spent but nothing extraordinary. "Thank Merlin."
"Nox." Hermione pensively watched her wand dim. "There's a lingering connection. Maybe the suppression caused a feedback loop." She'd need to do some research into linked rituals as used by covens. "We'll get you and Theo wands and then we can be proper fugitives."
"Thank you." Draco handed her wand back. "A life debt, no argument. This is so much more than anyone has ever done for me." He stopped, touching his mouth foolishly. The words were all there. They lined up and came out without him having to fight each one. He was shaky and tired and exhilarated and needed to relieve himself. Very poetic, he smirked. A poignant moment indeed.
They got up and did morning things. Theo showed up fully dressed, cheeks pink as Hermione was belting herself into a dressing gown. He rushed to her and embraced her, on the cusp of laughing and crying he was so ecstatic.
"I can feel the wards." He told her babbling and not giving a damn if he sounded a lackwit. "I woke up and needed air so I went outside. There's a sheltered courtyard. I watched the sun rise and I felt the security provisions for the wards change from night to day. I was standing there with the magic on my skin. It's like I'm reborn."
"Say Lumos." Draco said, interrupting Theo's exultation.
"Lumos." The brunet complied and grinned as his lover held up Hermione's lit wand. "Nox. Lumos. Nox." He said quickly, laughing as the light went on and off. "I am the luckiest of men."
"I'm glad you're happy but we do have some issues." Hermione combed her fingers through her hair then grimaced when she hit a stubborn knot. She reclaimed her wand and cast a detangling charm. Both wizards yelped as their hair was pulled taut. Her hair was truculently resistant to most beauty spells. It unwound from itself reluctantly, leaving Hermione with a jumble of curls, and Theo and Draco massaging their scalps.
The parolees didn't care. They grinned through breakfast, through Viktor's mother Miroslava's explanation that the meal was actually a late lunch and even through the news they had been asleep for three days. Viktor had summoned a Healer after they had collapsed. The diagnosis of severe magical drain had seen them tucked up in bed, separate beds, with house elves minding them.
"I woke up with Hermione." Draco was enjoying his banitsa and the yoghurt drink. He was enjoying everything on the table. His stomach raised nary a protest. Theo was tucking in too. Miroslava, who had raised four large sons, simply waved to one of the house elves for more food. No one left her table hungry.
"You go there. Comment dites-vous pristignal?" Madam Krum used the hodgepodge of Bulgarian, French and English she and her youngest son's just-good-friend usually spoke. Both witches were fluent in French however both wanted to learn the other's language. They could have cast translation charms but that seemed lazy.
"Apparated." Hermione provided.
"The ghost word, da." Miroslava reminded herself to write 'apparated' down so she remembered it. She wanted to use the correct terms and not sound like an uneducated peasant. "You Apparated to the room. You two, to her. We put you away but you return." She glanced at the English witch, who mouthed the conjugation. "You returned. Many times."
The trio digested the information with their meal. Miroslava answered as many of their questions as she could, sending for the Healer again so her guests could be reassured they were well. Which indeed they were. Their magical reserves were slowly percolating back to where they should be, there did not seem to be any lasting damage and considering what a suppression rite might have done in the Healer's opinion they were very fortunate.
As Hermione believed more in planning than luck, she bicycled into Plovdiv and searched one of the oldest cities in the world for an equally archaic relic; a public telephone. She found one outside a newsagent then spent a fortune in stotinki to call a flat in Andorra la Vella. Mme Valerie Morel answered with very crisp 'bonjour' on the second ring.
After an exchange of security phrases, Hermione said they were where she had said they would go and had done the thing, which had gone well thus far. Andromeda told Mlle Colette Roussel that there was a scandal in the English paper she would find interesting and a very short person had brought them an object. Feeling daft by this point, Hermione confirmed her intentions to go shopping then rung off.
There wasn't likely to be anyone eavesdropping on their communication but there were spells that could be used for blind surveillance sweeps. She had emptied her English house so nothing belonging to her would remain there. Unfortunately there simply hadn't been time to scour the cottage as thoroughly. Even a lone sock would be enough physical trace for a detection charm. Distance was their ally now.
Hermione cycled back to Viktor's house, walking her bike for the last leg up the hill so she could admire the view and the two wizards on broomsticks. They were whizzing around like five year olds on a sugar high, doing loops and barrel rolls. She could recognise some of the Quidditch manoeuvres despite trying to put the terminology out of her mind since leaving Ron.
Guilt tugged at her. Neville had stuck his neck out to warn her. That kindness could cost him his job or worse. The Ministry wouldn't send a war hero to Azkaban, probably, but she hadn't expected a dawn raid either. Maybe she could've stayed to talk it out. However, if she were taken into custody, Theo and Draco would be sent back to jail immediately. That might have broken them.
She waved as Theo corkscrewed down to skim across the grass, pulling up at a slightly safe distance from her. Draco was more daring, whooshing past at shoulder height before jumping off to land right beside her. They were both grinning at their own antics. Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys. They got bigger but they didn't grow up.
"Yes, yes, your broomsticks are very impressive." She smirked, reckoning they could weather a little sarcasm if they were feeling this much better. Identical looks of smugness greeted her remark. "I let your mum know you're okay, Draco. She'll be here this afternoon. Ulrik got them a Portkey to Sofia, the city not my owl."
"Why didn't they come with us?" His fingers itched to touch her. Draco had felt her absence; not crippling but ever-present.
"We didn't want to Side-Along so far with a child and Andromeda hasn't been to Ljubljana or Plovdiv. She would've been Apparating off determination alone. We thought it better she, Teddy, and Narcissa hide in Andorra as French nationals." Hermione had wanted to limit the calumny too. If found, Andromeda could deny all knowledge of her house guests' sudden departure under cover of her own blameless excursion to the mountains.
"The Pyrenees have nodes of wild magic." Theo had made a quiet resolution to learn as much as he could about binding rites so no one would ever fucking quell him again. It wasn't only that he was a prisoner in his own skin, he wasn't even himself without his magic. "Would that be enough to mask the Trace?"
"Local flux would make it difficult to pinpoint their location and neither of them have been using magic. That's why Andromeda drove. Narcissa has been wearing a lead box over her wrist we adapted as a dampener. Clunky but effective, we hope." She became aware of both wizards edging closer to her. They'd started at an ordinary conversational distance but were now definitely within her personal space. "What?"
"Don't you feel it?" Draco asked. Giving in to the urge, he brushed his fingers down her arm and sighed at the tingle under his skin. The connection they had discovered that morning was not through her wand. "The mine did something. I actually feel happy."
"I don't think it was the mine." Theo put his hand on Hermione's on the handle of her pedal machine. "I have never been this contented. I thought the euphoria was a legacy from the return of my magic. It ebbed after a time this morning but it's returned with you." Keeping his hand on hers, he reached out for Draco. With the circle compete, the three of them shivered at the lightning rush of shared energy.
"Well, shit." Hermione said after the high eased when they all jerked their hands back. "That is definitely a complication. Viktor never heard of anyone at Durmstrang sharing a suppression rite. The school keeps the ritual for severe punishment, one step below expulsion."
"Where is Krum?" Draco didn't try to keep the jealousy out of his voice. He was free and had shaken off the doldrums. He wasn't sure the depression wouldn't return like creeping rot so he wanted to have as much time with his witch and his wizard as possible. Viktor Krum was a wasp at his picnic.
"Since retiring, he's been working towards his Transfiguration Mastership. He has practical tuition on Wednesdays." Hermione chose to answer the question civilly. She and Viktor were happy as friends. She was aware Miroslava would like them to be more, however the 'vibe' between them had always been platonic. A comradeship they both treasured.
"The Ministry must be looking for us. They'll question your friends." Theo turned his mind from bitter envy at the Bulgarian's educational opportunities to more practical concerns. "Where are we going from here?"
"We'll get the shackle off Narcissa then I'll open some more vaults for the goblins. I hadn't anticipated being asleep for days." She needed to get her hands on a Daily Prophet to see what Andromeda mentioned as 'interesting'. "Depending on the Ministry's response, we may be able to bunker down here. Like most of the European Ministries, Bulgaria is out of sorts with their British counterparts. We can ask for sanctuary."
"I don't fancy hiding here for the rest of my life." Draco stated then paused. He had expressed a preference, dismay at concealment, and a yearning for the future. He breathed in slowly and deeply. He was alive again, woken from nightmares. "I want to help." The blond looked to Theo, who nodded. "We want to help. You shouldn't have to carry all of this alone."
"I'm not alone. I may be the one complaining the loudest but there are plenty of other people as pissed off as I am wanting to change things." Hermione assured and was reassured in turn by their intentions. "I appreciate the offer. There's a lot to do."
The first thing they did was find a recent copy of a British newspaper. Miroslava took the Prophet, a holdover from her son's time in Scotland, and the Quibbler as her eldest son Rosen was an enthusiastic amateur magizoologist. Hermione started with the papers the day of her meeting with Marchbanks. There hadn't been an Evening Prophet and the Sunday Prophet was anodyne. Monday's edition had a screaming headline 'Granger Flees Justice'. The Quibbler countered this with 'Nifflers Kidnap Heroine'.
The content of the stories were roughly similar. The Prophet's prose was more purple, alleging she had been bribed to smuggle the Malfoy and Nott heirs out of England. The proof being their absence and their empty vaults. The Quibbler suggested she was being used by magical creatures to get gold, which was suspiciously close to the truth.
The daring dawn raid got a lot of coverage in the Prophet. There was rampant speculation about whether she had abducted Andromeda Tonks and the 'young heir to the Black fortune'. No mention of Auror leaks so Hermione hoped Neville's part in their departure had gone unnoticed. The Ministry was confident of finding the escapees with the Trace. The public need not be alarmed.
By Wednesday's paper, the public were being treated to the Marchbanks and Shafiq factions going at it hammer and tongs. When the Trace didn't immediately find the two parolees, questions were asked. An anonymous Ministry source told the Quibbler Hermione Granger had met the Minister the day before the issue of her arrest warrant.
Under the influence of a three whiskey lunch, an idiot Wizengamot clerk suggested the Ministry would solve it's financial disaster by borrowing from Muggle banks then Obliviating the bankers. The Prophet and the Quibbler asked 'what financial disaster?' and the whole seething mess had burst forth into the public domain. Blame was being flung from siege engines and panic was rising. There had been a run on the London branch of Gringotts.
Hermione stopped reading at that point to call Ulrik. Theo and Draco continued with the newspapers, not at all pleased to see themselves described as 'feeble demented shadows bent to an ambitious woman's will'. Rita Skeeter was in hog heaven assassinating the younger witch's character. The Animagus was dropping names of all the wizards supposedly seduced by the Muggleborn's machinations, including Viktor Krum.
"How do you rate our chances claiming sanctuary?" Draco asked quietly.
"I'd rather not risk it." Theo didn't know enough of the current political situation to lay odds. They might be safe for a while, with the Bulgarians stringing out extradition negotiations with the British until they got something they wanted. Ultimately, he believed they would be handed over as he and Draco were simply not worth an international incident. "Staying here isn't viable long-term."
"You prepared to live as a Muggle?" With the identification Hermione had forged for them and their money in Muggle accounts, they could slip away into the mundane. The prospect made him feel sick. So soon after regaining his magic, he couldn't bear to neglect it.
"No." The last heir of the House of Nott shook his head. "For a few days perhaps, to elude pursuit but not longer." Theo reviewed their squat list of options. "I won't go back to Azkaban."
"I'd rather die." Draco stated without a speck of hyperbole.