"Scared?"
Hermione nodded.
The black cloak swirled around her shoulders and swallowed her in its depths. The hood was raised and she could imagine that she was a piece of night itself. "I can't see much," she said, and thought her voice sounded horribly small.
"I'll guide you."
"You're sure this will be..." Nothing was sure. To be seen doing this could prove to be dangerous; there had to be something better, like an invisibility cloak.
"This cloak..." His hands ran across the shoulders, which drooped over her smaller frame. "I use it when..."
Hermione gasped. "You wear this when you meet--"
"Yes, but it's more than just that." He meticulously adjusted the cloak so it fit properly on her. "It has its own set of enchantments, some rather mundane, and others... more useful."
As he stepped away, Hermione's eyes widened. Instead of a cloak four sizes too big, it now fit her perfectly. "How...? It's amazing!"
"I've used it since I was in school. I know you're wondering why, with all these precautions, not just use an invisibility cloak." He adjusted the hood a little, so her face was hidden in it once again. "Don't worry. It has its own brand of stealth. Can you feel it?"
Where the supple, heavy cloth touched her bare skin, she could indeed feel the minor vibrations, almost a hum, of raw power. Hermione's entire head was buzzing, like a mosquito in her ear. She shook her head, trying to clear the noise out, and said, "How can you stand it?" Finally, she swept the hood back, and the buzzing faded.
He gave her a humorless smile. "I don't even notice it. And I thought my life was worth a bit of inconvenience. At least, I did back then."
"It still is." Hermione threw the hood back up, pushing down the shiver that charged through her spine as the buzzing returned, and allowed impulse to have its way with her. She leaned up and kissed him quickly on the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."
He looked very uncomfortable, and stepped back. "Yes, well, it was a request by the Ministry; I couldn't refuse."
"And is that the only reason you're doing this?"
His eyes hardened in an instant. "Of course not. Whatever you might have believed of me, I do not enjoy sitting back and watching senseless death, especially of someone so..." His lips thinned to a white line. "Do you have all your things?"
Gesturing to the two suitcases at her feet, Hermione said, "These and Crookshanks. The other things I sent to my parents." Brandishing her wand, the suitcases were reduced to fitting in her hand. They were stowed in her robe, along with her wand. "Are we going now?"
"Not until evening."
"Because of the cloak?"
"Night is its element." He made a show of adjusting the cloak again, and leaned down to speak in her ear. "As long as you follow my instructions, it will protect you better than any invisibility cloak; don't be spoiled by Potter's old rag."
Hermione couldn't help but grin. "No, I'm to be spoiled by your old rag. It's very warm." She turned her head so she could have kissed him again if she were so inclined. In the beat of her heart, she changed her mind and delicately touched her lips to his.
He jerked away, his eyes wide in a look she would have never imagined on his face before.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, and wore a genuine appearance of innocence. To think he would react like that... It was only a little kiss. It all just went to prove that he really was human, no longer a teacher that was impervious to others, and he certainly wasn't as bad as she had always thought of him.
Delicate, almost, if she hadn't known his past. Pale skin, like a doll,and smooth except for the few deep lines of experience, warm despite appearances, and the caress of that hair on her cheek that was definitely not greasy... What a foolish reaction, and judging by his face, unwelcome, but her body had other ideas about the situation. "Se--"
"Miss Granger, this behavior is entirely inappropriate. The Ministry already does not have faith in my efforts, and I would prefer not to lower their expectations further by engaging in such activity where it is public record." He had put the entire room between them now, and sounded distinctly uncertain.
"Well I'm sorry. Please accept my sincere apologies, even though it's completely natural and there's nothing wrong with it at all." Adopting that tone sure wasn't going to smooth things over, but the whole mood had been wiped away so it mattered little. "You're right," she said abruptly. "I don't notice it at all now."
She pulled the hood down and back up. The buzzing was there, but much subdued. "So what does it--"
"It's none of your concern, Miss Granger," he said in his most clipped and least inviting voice. "We will leave at nine. I have preparations to make now." He swept out and left Hermione alone in the room.
"Fine. See if I care."
For some reason, Hermione didn't expect to be walking down one of the little side-lanes of Hogsmeade. He had to be pureblood, and she had always connected pureblood and Slytherin to old money. Surely his family manor wouldn't be in Hogsmeade. "How--"
"Sh. Remember what I said," he whispered. "It would appear very strange to hear a disembodied voice and to see me talking to darkness." He maintained his stride that she knew from Hogwarts, but his steps were quiet, and he was visibly wary.
Darkness. Unless this cloak really did turn her invisible, no one could mistake her for darkness while the moon was high and full. It lit everything up, close to daylight to her eyes, and made stealth nigh impossible. With Crookshanks hugged to her chest under the cloak, keeping unusually quiet for him, she didn't say more to avoid becoming more obvious.
"If you see anyone," he whispered, "stand still, and say nothing until I indicate it's safe."
Hermione nodded. The warning seemed unnecessary though, as there wasn't a light on in any house, and she hadn't seen a soul out. Though, that seemed to prove that if she did see someone, it was best not to be caught.
They passed house after house, some looking very much the wizarding type, and others appeared as regular Muggle homes. In Hermione's mind, she was still trying to put together what his home might look like. A tight smile stole across her face as she imagined some dank little hovel with its rooms predominantly underground. But no. That was Hogwarts, and he was a very different person outside of the school. She'd be surprised if there was even a hint of dank stone.
They continued on until the end of the lane was in sight. There, looking regal and majestic, was a grand manor. Three stories, a collection of chimneys on the roof, a subdued iron fence around the property, immaculate shutters... This was above and beyond what she had imagined. Hermione knew her mouth was hanging open as they approached it.
Contemplation of the house ended when she felt more than heard Crookshanks. If she didn't know the cat as well as she did, she might have mistaken it for purring, but no. Crookshanks was growling.
Before she could mention this, she was ordered, "Stay still." And she did.
A figure stepped out of the shadowed bushes ahead of them, and Hermione's heart leapt into her throat. The squeak of surprise and fear was barely held back. She was yanked back into moon-dappled shadows, and closed her eyes. All her concentration was diverted to keeping still and keeping quiet. Crookshanks was still growling, but it thankfully wasn't audible.
Her ears strained to catch every little sound now, and she caught the shuffle of a footstep, and another. A whisper of wind in a cloak maybe, and more footsteps growing louder. She could actually feel the presence of this stranger, and knew that this was what they had taken the precautions for.
Footfalls again, and Hermione dared to open her eyes. She swallowed a shriek; the person was there, right in front of her, and if she had wondered what a true Death Eater looked like... no longer. If it had only been a cloak, she wouldn't have made much note, but the mask set her brain to whirring, taking in every possible detail. Use reason and logic and intellect to overcome emotion, to keep her fright from overwhelming her, and pray Crookshanks didn't do anything stupid.
The cat was still growling, but keeping very still, far more still than she could have thought possible for him.
Before she could actually take in details outside of that skull-like mask, the Death Eater moved down the lane.
Hermione closed her eyes again and released her breath as silently as possible. It was a miracle her pounding heart hadn't given her away. A hand suddenly clapped over her mouth, and this time she did yell behind it.
"This way, quickly," he whispered in her ear, and he started to pull her away. He lifted her over a fence, then followed, and was off, clutching her arm tightly.
Through a yard, pushing their way through a hedge, across another yard, and a pause. "Stay here," he warned. "I have to see that the way is clear."
Quivering, Hermione nodded. Thirty seconds had never passed so slowly in her life, and when he waved for her to follow him, she ran, abandoning all notions of safety. If her hands had been free, she knew she would have been clutching his arm desperately.
She couldn't help glancing back to see if they were being followed; the manor seemed so very far away. They had only gone a couple houses down though, and he pulled her aside into what appeared little more than a mass of bushes. Where the Death Eater had been before... To find some sort of--
Hermione blinked as they emerged on a path through a neatly-kept yard surrounded by high hedges. It was canopied by huge trees, keeping the way dark.
"Inside, we'll be safe," he said quietly, and hurried down the walk.
"This is your house?" she asked, keeping her voice low, but not whispering. There would be protection, wards here, of course.
"Yes. Something wrong with it?" He had his wand out and was moving it in a complicated pattern over the front door.
"No, not at all. I just expected... I don't know. It doesn't seem like you." Subtle, relaxed, not showy at all. Brick that looked distinguished with age, a simple oaken front door, cheery windows... This was as opposite of what she had thought it would be as possible.
The door opened finally, and before speaking, he swept her inside. "Did you assume I'd live in a dungeon all year long?" The door shut and locked itself, glowing briefly as the wards regained their potency. "You can take that off now." His hands pushed back the hood in a seemingly careless manner, but his fingertips caressed her hair.
"Oh!" Hermione staggered and fell into him.
His arms held her carefully, hands resting chastely on her back and arms. "I should have warned you. I didn't believe we'd encounter anyone though," he murmured, his hand moving of its own accord to move slowly across her shoulder blade.
Hermione held on to the front of his cloak tightly, her head swimming and legs shaking. "What is it? My head feels..." It was like taking too much cold potion; nothing seemed quite real.
"Here. Take that off, and I'll explain when you're actually capable of retaining what I say."
If her mind had been in proper working order, she would have snapped at him for such an insult, but there was too much fog, and she didn't mind having him half-carry her to another room.
"Sit." He put pressure on her shoulders and forced her into a chair. "It reacts, you see," he said, and began to unfasten the cloak's intricate silver clasps. "It can actually be dangerous to the wearer." He slipped it from her shoulders, revealing the ginger cat in her arms. "I was confident you would be able to handle the effects though."
"I-I do feel a little better." Hermione inhaled very slowly, and released it. "I didn't think it'd be so frightening. How does it work?"
"You can release him; he'll do no damage here."
That was when she realized she had a rather uncomfortably tight hold of Crookshanks, and opened her arms. "Sorry about that, Crookshanks. We're safe now," she said, and watched him hop immediately from her lap. "He doesn't seem to be feeling anything." Her hand caressed the fabric of the cloak, her eyes watching the dark glimmer of the lining. "What's it made of?" Like silk, but even more fluid. Water spun into a cloth.
"Let me get you something first. You're still feeling it, I'm sure."
Hermione nodded firmly, and her eyes followed him as he exited the room. Then they looked to Crookshanks, investigating these new surroundings. She wanted to do the same, but she was still feeling the effects of the cloak and felt much safer in the chair.
"Mint tea. It cures all ails."
"Is that in your professional opinion?" she asked, turning to watch him approach with a steaming cup in his hand.
"Personal and professional. Drink."
She took the cup and blew on the surface. Testing the temperature carefully with a sip, she sighed as the subtle flavor cross her palette. "Mm, that's good," she commented, and finished the cup in one un-Hermione-like drink.
"Perhaps," he said and took the cup, "we should wait until morning for explanations. Rest will take care of any lingering effects."
With a crease of her brow, Hermione eyed the tea cup in his hand. "Did you put something in that tea?" She was feeling... relaxed, almost sluggish. After what had just happened, how she had felt during it, she should have been alert.
"No, it was only tea. The cloak," he said by way of explanation. "If you were to wear it with regularity--" He took her hand and helped her rise from the chair. "--you would grow used to it."
She held on to his arm, as her legs were still somewhat unreliable. "It's... some sort of..." Her brain couldn't bring forth the word she was looking for. "Duller. For when you come back from..."
They mounted the first step. "I prefer to think of it as a sanity preserver. Though you are correct, of course."
Hermione beamed through the haze settling over her. "Thank you. But how did you not get caught? I saw him; he was standing right in front of me." The stairs was proving a challenge, and she couldn't concentrate on the answer he was giving her.
"...years ago. It has its uses. Very few know of it. You're not really listening to me, are you?"
Hermione managed to laugh a little. "I suppose I'm not really. I guess the explanations really are best left for the morning. Ah good." They had reached the top of the stairs, and she felt far more confident in the next leg of their journey. "Did you make that cloak yourself?" she continued, preferring this to silence. "It's really fascinating."
"I did, though it didn't all come together at once. I added things as my experience and knowledge increased." He passed one door, but paused at the second. "You still have your bags?"
Fumbling in her robes with hands that didn't quite obey her commands, she pulled out the two boxes. "Right here. What's it made out of? It didn't feel like anything I've ever--"
"Hermione, explanations in the morning." Two fingers rested on her cheek, quieting her. "I will answer all your questions in the morning."
She looked up at him, his touch finally counteracting the cloak and making her heart beat a little faster. "The morning," she whispered.
"Yes, the morning." His fingers lingered against her cheek, moving slowly now in a circle. "Something for you to think about. Some things you'll want to know more about, try yourself," he said, the volume of his voice dropping steadily.
"I know I will."
It was her hand that found the handle and opened the door. "I don't know if I can change these back tonight."
"They're not... strictly necessary tonight. You can get them in the morning."
Time slowed as the two made an effort to judge the other's intentions.
"This is a bad idea," he said first. "You don't know me."
"You don't know me either."
"Why would you ever--"
"Why are you questioning me?"
"I know the types of reactions the cloak can cause."
Hermione blinked slowly, her perception wavering a bit. "Then... you know what I felt when I kissed you at the Ministry.
He nodded.
"I have to ask then what will I wear tonight?" She dropped her bags, held on to his arm, and pulled herself up to kiss him. No watching Ministry this time, and he kissed her back, his fingers still on her cheek.
Hermione was first to pull back, breathless, face flushed, and still in that haze. "So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?"
His fingers caressed her cheek briefly. "Nothing." He lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
TBC