CHAPTER 27
October 1st 2001
Hermione Granger landed with a brush of wind, wrist in hand with Malfoy, in a back alley on the streets of a country town just outside of Oxford. After a sort of successful investigation of the manor under their arm, the curly haired witch decided that they deserved a treat to reward themselves.
Malfoy stood beside her and looked at his surroundings in bewilderment, thrown by the change of location that he expected.
"Where are we?" He frowned at her.
"Town." She replied sweetly. "We need to buy food."
"Are you daft? What if someone recognises us?"
Hermione was slightly offended at the assumption that she had brought them here without thinking about it first.
"We are going to change our appearances." She rolled her eyes while pulling her wand out of her pocket and pointing it toward her own temple.
Within seconds, Hermione transformed her curly exterior to have long blond white hair with green eyes. It was not much, but it was certainly less recognisable than her usual bird's nest and brown orbs.
Malfoy lifted a brow at her sudden new appearance, "I don't like it."
"It does matter where you like it or not. As long as it works." She turned her wand to point at his forehead.
A sprinkle of magic drizzled over the blond wizard, transfiguring him to possess dark brown hair with a well kept beard to match. Hermione decided to keep his silver eyes as they were.
"I will kill you if you made me ginger, Granger." He grunted once she lowered her wand.
She sniggered in return. "Come on, let's go."
With a little fear in her step, Hermione crept out of the shadowed alley and stepped into the dusk filtered town streets. Her glamorous new blond hair flowing close behind.
It was a risky move to go out into the open during a getaway in which her life was at risk, but Hermione had been on the run for too long within the war to know how quickly you could fall into a depression.
Learning from her experience with Ron, she knew that getting Malfoy out into the public would help suppress his aggression when times would get tough. Keeping him cooped up in the cottage for long periods of time would only damage his soul.
"Do you have a particular reason for being here?" The now brunette Malfoy yelled out, taking long strides to catch up.
"Partly." She yelled back, practically hearing him roll his eyes at her from behind.
An old family takeaway restaurant caught Hermione's eye as she ran across the pebbled road. It was exactly how she remembered it. Chipped paint and blue printing all while gifting the town with a mouthwatering smell of deep fried potato.
Malfoy eventually caught up with her by the time a bell rang as she opened the entrance door.
He stuck his nose up in disgust at the grease filled store, "What is this place?"
"A fish and chip shop." Hermione cringed at his pretentious attitude.
"Why are we here?" He grunted.
"I am getting us dinner. Trust me, you'll like it."
The witch could tell he did not in fact trust her, but decided to pick his battles and surrender anyway. She told him to go read the bulletin board while she ordered their food.
After paying for a bag of chips and a few pieces of fish, Hermione walked to stand next to Malfoy while they waited. He truly did not suit brown hair, it made him look more intimidating than he already was. Russian, almost.
"Do Muggles often sell their possessions at restaurants?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the multitude of items pinned on the notice board.
"Yes." She laughed. "Or help find a lost cat."
"Odd."
It did not take long for their order to be prepared, and soon enough Hermione and Malfoy were walking side by side through town, grey grease paper in hand. Despite the falling temperatures of winter soon approaching, there still seemed to be a fair amount of stalls lined along the streets. She loved seeing the elderly women with their jarred chutney still just as enthusiastic as they were when she was a child.
Feeling confident in their disguises, Hermione approached the men selling fruit and gathered a collection of food they could indulge in over the next few days. Malfoy did not feel as relaxed doing so, instead he remained on the curb watching her patiently.
"You can take a look around if you wish." She encouraged him while placing the punnet of strawberries into her satchel.
"Don't you think you should be treading with more caution?" He retaliated, hands in pocket.
Ignoring his anxiety, Hermione continued with her shopping, smiling politely at every store owner she passed. Malfoy kept a paranoid eye out for anyone with bad intentions.
One particular book stand drew the witch in.
"Oh these are absolutely lovely." Hermione sighed to the older woman manning the table as she traced the bindings of the aged novels.
"Thank you, dear." She smiled with lipstick stained teeth. "If you look close enough, you can find a few originals of some classics here."
A flutter expanded in her heart. It was rather tempting to purchase a new novel for their stay, but she knew indulgence could wait for another time.
Graciously bidding the elder woman farewell, Hermione rejoined Malfoy on the pavement. His brown hair and beard was still awfully daunting to get used to. Even the small smile on his face failed to soften his unsettling appearance.
"Shall we?" She secured the purse wrapped around her body.
"Please." He took the first step.
Her grandmother's house was not far down the road, only a few minutes walk away from the busy town streets. The witch and wizard walked along the country path in step with one another, both keeping their heads down as their shoes tapped against the cement.
The sun began setting ahead of them, as crickets sang amongst the tall grass fields. Even after a day of hunting down tunnels and dark passageways, Hermione could still smell the sweet scent of Malfoy's vanilla and cinnamon body wash.
Within a matter of minutes they had arrived back at the cottage.
"You head in." Malfoy insisted. "I will secure the wards."
"Okay."
Unlocking the front door and lighting the fireplace, Hermione laid their dinner out on the coffee table in the centre of the living room. A light tapping from the kitchen pulled her attention away. A familiar owl sat upon the skirtings of the kitchen window, patiently waiting with a letter in its beak.
Hermione walked outside and retrieved the letter, thanking the bird for its duty and gifting it with a warm chip. Taking the envelope back inside, she peeled it open and read the scribbled parchment.
Dear, Penelope.
Kingsley is aware of your reasoning behind your leave from work. He has informed ministry department heads that you and your dragon have taken a business trip to America.
No need for a reply, the less we know the better.
Keep safe.
Dudley.
By the time she scanned the letter for a second time, Malfoy had entered the kitchen without his disguise, finishing up with the wards. Seeing his platinum hair and smooth skin once more was comforting.
"Who is that from?" He asked, putting his wand back inside his coat pocket.
"Harry." She held it out for him to read. "He used the names we adopted when caught by snatchers during the war. In case the owl was caught."
Malfoy nodded, reading the parchment. Hermione took the silent opportunity to undo her incognito magic, stripping the straight blond hair and returning the brown curls with matching eyes.
"I assume I am the dragon in this scenario?"
"Latin translation suits you more. Hot headed and slimy." She grinned, brushing past him to the living room.
Taking a seat beneath the coffee table, Hermione began to dip her chips into the sauce squirted onto the grease paper. Malfoy followed her lead and folded his legs beneath him. He stared at the food before him, stumped with the lack of cutlery at hand.
"You've never had fish and chips before, have you?" She asked, holding back a laugh.
"That obvious?" He looked up at her in embarrassment.
She let out the chuckle. "You eat it with your hands."
"Yes, I gathered."
Malfoy began tearing his food apart, taking small bites and chewing slowly. By the looks of it, he had limited experience in eating anything deep fried before.
After a few hesitant swallows, he appeared to enjoy it more and embrace the muggle delicacy.
Hermione sucked the oil off her fingers with a pop as she dove into the battered fish. Malfoy looked at her wide eyes and a deep brow.
"What?" She asked, mouth still a little full of chips.
"Nothing." He shook his head and continued to eat at his dinner.
As odd as it was, sitting on the floor of her grandmother's cottage with the pureblood bully that teased her relentlessly growing up, it did feel rather nice. Being with Malfoy was almost always nice.
The witch cleared her throat. "We should probably talk about Crawford."
"How so?"
"Why you hired him to kill Lucius, but more importantly why he failed to do so."
Malfoy mirrored Hermione's actions in sucking the oil off his fingers before exhaling.
"I already told you why I hired him." He said bluntly.
"I'm not an idiot, Malfoy. You are hiding something, and until you reveal what it is I cannot trust you."
She stood firm in her argument and without realising the two began a deep staring contest. Glaring at one another with annoyance. Malfoy gave in first.
"Fine." He growled. "When I was kicked out of the manor two years ago, it was not because I resisted his ongoing hatred for muggle-borns. It was because of my interest in… you."
Hermione frowned at the wizard sitting across from her. Her chest began to tighten.
"Or so Lucius thought." He continued. "He had gathered that seeing as we were spending so much time together that I was developing feelings for you. The day I walked out, that prick threatened to kill you if I continued our friendship. Seeing his son involved with a muggle-born was too much of a threat to the family name."
Hermione swallowed with a tightened throat.
"Was he right?" She whispered. "About you developing feelings?"
Malfoy glanced at her for a moment before looking back down to the table and replying, "No. He jumped to conclusions."
Somehow the tightness in Hermione's chest stiffened even more. Was she hoping he was going to say yes? What would she have done if he had?
Before she could answer her own inner question, Malfoy continued with his explanation.
"I employed Crawford in order to deal with my father before you could find out, or anyone got hurt. My family has caused you and your friends enough strife over the years."
"So you hired a hitman to kill your father in order to protect me?"
"You make it sound more heroic than it really was." Malfoy scoffed.
"May I ask why it took such a long time for Lucius to put anything into action? You left the manor far before those men were sent to hurt you in Romania."
"He was sending them before Romania, Granger. You just happened to get caught in it then."
Hermione reached across the coffee table and took his hand into her own. She chose to ignore the grease smearing between their clasp. He looked up at her with apologetic eyes.
Forming a straight line with her lips, she gave a sweet smile in return. "I want to thank you, but I feel it is a little inappropriate to show gratitude for a son choosing to end his father's life, for the sake of my own."
"You do not need to thank me, Granger." He pulled his hand out of her reach and began eating again.
"I know I told you that I can take care of myself, but I do appreciate the lengths in which you have gone to." She took her hand back to her own food. "Including eating fish and chips on the floor with me.
Malfoy tried to hold back the smile fighting for her attention. Hermione smirked at his failure to do so.
The witch reached over to her satchel lying on the floor and pulled out the container filled with cupcakes. She gifted him with one as well as herself before putting them back into the purse for tomorrow night.
Hermione played with the icing on the sweet with her forefinger. "That wall of yours is slowly coming down, brick by brick, you know?"
"I am truly starting to doubt our friendship is worth it, Granger." Malfoy mocked. "Astoria happens to like my broodiness, you know?"
"Oh does she now?"
"Yes."
Hermione did not feel the need to continue talking about the Greengrass girl. Thinking about that relationship was hard enough, she did not hear the details. A change of subject was necessary.
"So what are your predictions into why Crawford failed to kill your father?" She pulled back the paper on the cupcake.
"I paid him a visit after Potter informed me of a body swap. The workers at his club said he was out of town since the papers announced Lucius' death. I thought he was too embarrassed to face the music, only now after seeing the satchel of galleons with his name on it... I'm beginning to think he never intended on following through with his side of the deal."
"You think he's been working with Lucius this whole time too?" She asked, licking the crumbs off the corner of her mouth.
"It feels like the only reasonable answer. Perhaps we should pay him a visit tomorrow."
"It is our only lead right now. Where would we have to go?"
"He has a house out in Rochester. We can apparate first thing in the morning if you would like?"
Hermione nodded and dusted her hands of any remaining cupcake residue. Malfoy sucked his finger free of icing before taking the final bite of the sweet dessert.
The fireplace crackled at their side, blessing them with warmth as the cold night took stride over the cottage. Hermione tugged at the crochet blanket spread across the couch behind her, wrapping it around her shoulders.
The witch and wizard sat on the floor and chatted until the coal on the fire grew dim.
"You cannot be serious." Malfoy leant forward, slapping his hand across his face.
"I am!" Hermione laughed. "He was totally barbaric, and only interested in watching me study. Why he invited me to the Yule Ball, I will never know."
"Trust me, Granger. He was not just interested in watching you study."
"And how would you know that?"
"Durmstrang spent a lot of time in the Slytherin dungeons. Krum could be quite vocal on your relationship if you poked him long enough." He leant his cheek onto his fist with crossed arms.
Hermione squinted, unsure whether to believe the wizard or not. The memory of Victor pushing her against the library stacks with forceful kisses hinted that what he spoke was true.
"Do not fret, Granger. Krum did not share what you did in the shadows of the castle." Malfoy reassured her. "Although, there was a tale or two of fumbling hands in the library."
Opening her mouth in awe, Hermione took a small pillow from the couch and threw it at him across the table. Malfoy belly laughed as he tumbled to the floor, laying back on the shaggy rug.
"That was private!" She yelled, crawling over and punching him in the arm.
"Hey!" He chuckled, guarding her blow. "It is not my fault you have terrible taste in over sharing men."
Hermione retracted from hitting him a second time, shaking her head and inched back to her seat. He was right, she did have questionable preferences in men. They were either wildly insecure or far too cocky. No in between.
Malfoy sat back up and hugged his long legs under his arms.
"Speaking of your insufferable fiance." He spoke in a more serious tone. "I take it Weasley would have informed your parents of where you are."
She clenched her eyes shut. "Oh gosh… I had forgotten to tell him to do that."
"Surely he would not need reminding. His future wife is on the run, I doubt that he would forget to let her parents know she was in danger."
"You clearly do not know, Ron." Hermione mumbled under her breath.
Malfoy bit his lower lip with a deepened brow. Most likely judging the way in which her relationship failed in the communication department. Definitely not the first time, either.
"It is okay, once this is all over I will tell them everything."
"For muggle parents, they must see our world as rather dangerous." The wizard had a tinge of guilt on his voice. "Their daughter has not exactly lived a life that has given them a picture perfect idea of what magic entails."
"Yeah, well. I wouldn't give it up for anything in the world." She smiled, admiring the warm orange glow spread across his pale cheeks.
"Says the celebrity."
Hermione scoffed as she stood to her feet and folded the blanket over her shoulders. Malfoy huffed, pulling himself off the ground and dusting imaginary dust from his clothes.
"I can clean up here if you want to go and take a shower." He offered. "Or a bath, I saw a tub in the guest bathroom."
"Are you sure?"
"The least I could do for the girl who bought me dinner." Malfoy gave a cheeky smile while picking up the pillows off the floor and tossing them back onto the couch.
Hermione let out a soft laugh.
As she walked down the hall to her bedroom, she found herself imagining a life where tonight would be a possible future for her and Ron. Getting a quick dinner, eating by the fire and laughing for hours on end until it was time to retire to bed.
Only deep down she knew that they had not had a night like this in a long time. Over the past few years their relationship has deteriorated to just old habits and arguing. Sure, since they got engaged it had gotten better, but how long was the glimmer of a wedding going to last before it went back to frustrated quarrels and silent dinners?
Picking up her towel and heading to the bathroom, Hermione let her mind drift to the possibility of leaving Ron.
Where would she go? Would Harry still be her friend? Was there truly a happy ending out there? Could it be with Malfoy?
Drowning her face in hot water under the shower stream, the witch concluded that as dreamy as it would be to spend the rest of her days locked up in abandoned cottages with a man who brings her tea everyday, she had to stay with Ron. They were meant to be. Childhood sweethearts.
Plus, as much as Malfoy denied it, he still despised her. That and he was with Astoria, and probably in love with Pansy Parkinson.
Hermione drew the damp curtain shut and wrapped the scratchy towel around her freshly cleaned chest. The shower had helped clear her head, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed.
Stepping back into her bedroom, she saw in the corner of her eye that Malfoy was removing his shirt across the hall. Black cotton lifting up along the perfectly lined scar along his spine. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she watched the muscle on his shoulder blades twitch.
A flutter brushed on the inside of her stomach, as her breath hitched.
Just as Malfoy turned to face her bedroom, she scattered and quickly pressed herself against the opposing wall. Heaving in paranoia that he saw her staring.
After a few seconds with no sarcastic comment, Hermione rapidly dried herself off and slinked into the silk blue nightgown.
Why she packed such a revealing set of pyjamas, she did not recall. But she subconsciously knew it was a very flattering nightgown, and a part of her wanted to be wanted by the man fighting his father to be around her.
"Granger?" Malfoy called across the hall.
"Yes?" Hermione yelled back, still concealed on the other side of her room.
"Are you decent?"
"Uh... Yeah."
The blond wizard slid into her suite, to her disappointment, in a white shirt and boxer shorts. He scanned her from top to bottom, and she suddenly became aware of her dripping wet curls sticking to her collar bones.
"There is a box in one of the rooms down the hall that looks like one of those muggle contraptions that show moving photographs. Do you know how to operate it?" He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.
"A television?" She confirmed with his hesitant nod. "I can turn it on for you, if you'd like."
Leading the way, they walked up the passage to the sitting room. Inside the walls were painted a deep red with a small two seater couch and a grey TV propped onto a cream cabinet. Hermione picked up the chunky remote from the couch and clicked it on.
Malfoy stood in awe as he watched the screen light up with an episode of a show she did not recognise. By the sounds of it, it was an American comedy.
Hermione handed him the control and showed him what to press in order to change channels or raise the volume. He thanked her with a low smile.
Near the door on her way out, she asked, "Why do you want to watch it?"
"I-uh-I have not been sleeping well lately, and reading no longer works." Malfoy confessed taking a seat on the couch.
"Oh." She breathed. "If you need some company, I am just down the hall."
"Good night, Granger."
It was clear he no longer wanted to be around her.
"Good night, Malfoy."