"Open! Drive!" - Willow, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (NOT Resident Evil)
*
Hermione was sitting on the crate, her knees pulled up to her chin. It was still raining, though not very much. The crate was close enough to the building that it was sheltered for the most part from the rain. Still, she was sure that by the time the night was over, she'd have pneumonia, or at the very least, a hacking cough. If she didn't catch the zombie virus.
Draco was standing on the crate behind Hermione, trying to find a way back into the room.
Hermione though he was just wasting his time. Obviously the zombie didn't want them back in. Either it knew they'd kill it, or it wanted some private time to do whatever zombies did in their private time. She shuddered.
"Are you quite done yet? I'm getting cold."
"There's got to be some way back in. Try transfiguring the crate again."
"I've tried six times, Draco. It doesn't work. Besides, you're standing on it now, and I definitely can't transfigure it with you there. Unless you fancy becoming a rung?" She swung her legs around the front of the crate and kicked, shaking the crate, herself and Draco.
"Well, if you're not going to help me, the least you could do is bloody hold still, so you don't spill us onto the ground." He raised himself on tiptoes, and reached for the window, missing it by almost a foot. "Fuck!"
"It's not going to work. We're going to have to go back in the front door." Hermione kicked the crate again, petulantly.
Draco tripped, ramming into Hermione's back. He caught her shoulders to steady himself. "Let me stand on your shoulders."
Hermione stood up then, and Draco stumbled again. "Are you out of our mind?"
He shrugged. "It could work."
"And then I would get in by sheer force of will?"
"I could drop the ladder down."
"Right. After you've wrestled it from the zombie. I don't know why I didn't think of that." Hermione glared at him, wishing she could pull the crate out from under him and watch him fall to the ground.
"Granger, is it that time of the month? You're acting like Snape on a bad day."
"That's it!" Hermione turned her back on Draco and stormed off down the street. "Have fun getting back in there!" she called over her shoulder.
She didn't turn around, but heard him get down from the crate and walk towards her. "Fine, you're right, we can't get in that way. You don't have to throw a tantrum."
Looking straight ahead, and not stopping, Hermione answered, "I'm not. I'm simply walking. Nice weather, isn't it?"
In fact, she was getting colder by the minute. She wasn't sure if the rain had started to come down harder, or if the building had offered more shelter than she'd originally thought, but Hermione was now shivering, and she was willing to wager that her lips had taken on a blue tint. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.
"Hermione, stop."
She walked faster.
"Stop now, or I'll hit you with a curse."
She turned around. "That's low, Malfoy. Exactly what I'd expect of you." Hermione looked down at her shirt, and found it had taken on a very translucent appearance in its current wet state. She sighed.
Draco crossed the distance between them. "I do what I have to. Where do you think you're going?"
"I don't know. Somewhere that you're not."
"That's a sound plan. Give my regards to the zombies."
"And I'm sure you'd do so much better by yourself."
"I don't think so, actually. That's why I made you stop." He grinned. The idiot.
"Okay. Fine. I've stopped. You're never going to get back in that window, and you're bloody well not standing on my shoulders and my god, aren't you freezing?" She'd forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. Though how she'd forgotten, she didn't know. She was glad he kept his chest covered most of the time. If he didn't, she'd be in danger of staring until her eyes got dry and rolled into her head.
"A little. Not as bad as you, I think. Can we please go back to the building now?"
Hermione sniffed. "Fine, if we use the door."
"I give. We'll use the door. Come on." He held his hand, and she hesitated only a moment before taking it. They turned around.
The street had filled with dogs.
"Were those there before?" asked Hermione stupidly.
"I certainly didn't notice them."
There were at least five of them, though Hermione suspected there might be more. It was dark, and she couldn't see very well. "I think we should run," she said.
"I think so, too."
They took off down the street, hands still clasped. They didn't turn around, but Hermione could hear the snarls of the dogs, and she imagined their ugly black faces right at her heels. She had an awful vision of ending her life as a chew toy.
Draco was running slightly faster, and he pulled her around a corner. "Do you see any place we could duck into?" he panted.
"I haven't seen anything except blurs and rain." She turned her head, and saw dark buildings lining the street, none of which looked promising as a shelter.
"Ouch!" Hermione hadn't been looking where she'd been going; Draco had been practically dragging her along at this point, and she'd been looking at the buildings. Now she's managed to run into something solid and metal.
She looked down. It was a car.
"Draco! Stop!" she called. "Alohomora!" she directed to the car's front door.
Draco came to a halt, and turned around. "What is it, Hermione?" He saw the car. "Are you serious? We can't drive that thing."
"It doesn't matter. Dogs won't be able to get in." She scrambled into the front seat. "Get it, for god's sake, before they catch up to us!"
He climbed in and slammed the door, just before a dog caught up to them. It jumped at the door and banged its head against the window, leaving a smear of doggy drool. "That was close," said Draco.
Hermione looked around the car. The steering wheel was on the left side. "We're definitely not in Britain anymore, Draco." She waved towards the wheel, upon which Draco was resting his arms.
"Does it really matter where we are, Hermione? Wherever it is, it's not Hogwarts." He turned away from the window and faced her. "Now what?"
"I think we should switch seats. My parents are Muggles, I've at least ridden in a car before."
"Doesn't mean you know how to drive it."
"No, but I at least know what to do with it. You wouldn't even know which pedal was which."
"There are pedals?" He inspected the dash.
"Move over." She inched towards him. "Climb over me."
Draco started to move to the passenger seat, but his feet got tangled in the pedals and Hermione's feet, and he ended up falling into her lap, with an "oof."
Hermione jumped. "What are you doing?" His face was resting on her thigh.
"You really don't think I did think on purpose, do you?"
"Given certain other events, I wouldn't rule it out. Move over." She kicked his foot.
"Certain other events that you also participated in."
"Move over, Malfoy."
"You already said that."
"Well, I meant it. Move over."
Instead, he brought his hands closed to his face, and rubbed the material of her trousers lightly over her legs. "You're pretty when you're angry."
"Oh god, Malfoy. Have you been reading Muggle romance novels? Really, that's the stupidest thing anyone's ever said to me. Get off, I want to see if I can get the car to work." She pushed him, succeeding only in moving him closer to the front of the car.
"I'm moving. You don't have to get violent."
"Seems it's the only thing you actually respond to. Light you wand."
"Lumos."
Hermione stared intently at the dashboard, trying to make sense of it. She'd seen her parents drive; she knew the basics. Stick key in, turn key. Press gas pedal. It seemed easy enough. She was sure she could drive, if she could figure out how to start the blasted thing.
The wand light went out.
"Hey!"
"You've seen everything. Besides you were looking out the window. .Are the dogs still there?"
He was answered by loud barking.
"Yes," said Hermione. "They're still there."
Draco said nothing, and didn't light his wand again.
Hermione watched the rain splatter on the windshield, and wished fervently that she knew how to apparate. Or that she had a key. Then it came to her. "Draco," she said, "Do you still have those bullets in your pocket?"
"Yes," he said. "Are you going to shoot the dogs?"
"No. Give me one."
He handed her a bullet, giving her a questioning look.
"I'm going to make a key," Hermione said, beaming.
*
Hermione was sitting on the crate, her knees pulled up to her chin. It was still raining, though not very much. The crate was close enough to the building that it was sheltered for the most part from the rain. Still, she was sure that by the time the night was over, she'd have pneumonia, or at the very least, a hacking cough. If she didn't catch the zombie virus.
Draco was standing on the crate behind Hermione, trying to find a way back into the room.
Hermione though he was just wasting his time. Obviously the zombie didn't want them back in. Either it knew they'd kill it, or it wanted some private time to do whatever zombies did in their private time. She shuddered.
"Are you quite done yet? I'm getting cold."
"There's got to be some way back in. Try transfiguring the crate again."
"I've tried six times, Draco. It doesn't work. Besides, you're standing on it now, and I definitely can't transfigure it with you there. Unless you fancy becoming a rung?" She swung her legs around the front of the crate and kicked, shaking the crate, herself and Draco.
"Well, if you're not going to help me, the least you could do is bloody hold still, so you don't spill us onto the ground." He raised himself on tiptoes, and reached for the window, missing it by almost a foot. "Fuck!"
"It's not going to work. We're going to have to go back in the front door." Hermione kicked the crate again, petulantly.
Draco tripped, ramming into Hermione's back. He caught her shoulders to steady himself. "Let me stand on your shoulders."
Hermione stood up then, and Draco stumbled again. "Are you out of our mind?"
He shrugged. "It could work."
"And then I would get in by sheer force of will?"
"I could drop the ladder down."
"Right. After you've wrestled it from the zombie. I don't know why I didn't think of that." Hermione glared at him, wishing she could pull the crate out from under him and watch him fall to the ground.
"Granger, is it that time of the month? You're acting like Snape on a bad day."
"That's it!" Hermione turned her back on Draco and stormed off down the street. "Have fun getting back in there!" she called over her shoulder.
She didn't turn around, but heard him get down from the crate and walk towards her. "Fine, you're right, we can't get in that way. You don't have to throw a tantrum."
Looking straight ahead, and not stopping, Hermione answered, "I'm not. I'm simply walking. Nice weather, isn't it?"
In fact, she was getting colder by the minute. She wasn't sure if the rain had started to come down harder, or if the building had offered more shelter than she'd originally thought, but Hermione was now shivering, and she was willing to wager that her lips had taken on a blue tint. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.
"Hermione, stop."
She walked faster.
"Stop now, or I'll hit you with a curse."
She turned around. "That's low, Malfoy. Exactly what I'd expect of you." Hermione looked down at her shirt, and found it had taken on a very translucent appearance in its current wet state. She sighed.
Draco crossed the distance between them. "I do what I have to. Where do you think you're going?"
"I don't know. Somewhere that you're not."
"That's a sound plan. Give my regards to the zombies."
"And I'm sure you'd do so much better by yourself."
"I don't think so, actually. That's why I made you stop." He grinned. The idiot.
"Okay. Fine. I've stopped. You're never going to get back in that window, and you're bloody well not standing on my shoulders and my god, aren't you freezing?" She'd forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. Though how she'd forgotten, she didn't know. She was glad he kept his chest covered most of the time. If he didn't, she'd be in danger of staring until her eyes got dry and rolled into her head.
"A little. Not as bad as you, I think. Can we please go back to the building now?"
Hermione sniffed. "Fine, if we use the door."
"I give. We'll use the door. Come on." He held his hand, and she hesitated only a moment before taking it. They turned around.
The street had filled with dogs.
"Were those there before?" asked Hermione stupidly.
"I certainly didn't notice them."
There were at least five of them, though Hermione suspected there might be more. It was dark, and she couldn't see very well. "I think we should run," she said.
"I think so, too."
They took off down the street, hands still clasped. They didn't turn around, but Hermione could hear the snarls of the dogs, and she imagined their ugly black faces right at her heels. She had an awful vision of ending her life as a chew toy.
Draco was running slightly faster, and he pulled her around a corner. "Do you see any place we could duck into?" he panted.
"I haven't seen anything except blurs and rain." She turned her head, and saw dark buildings lining the street, none of which looked promising as a shelter.
"Ouch!" Hermione hadn't been looking where she'd been going; Draco had been practically dragging her along at this point, and she'd been looking at the buildings. Now she's managed to run into something solid and metal.
She looked down. It was a car.
"Draco! Stop!" she called. "Alohomora!" she directed to the car's front door.
Draco came to a halt, and turned around. "What is it, Hermione?" He saw the car. "Are you serious? We can't drive that thing."
"It doesn't matter. Dogs won't be able to get in." She scrambled into the front seat. "Get it, for god's sake, before they catch up to us!"
He climbed in and slammed the door, just before a dog caught up to them. It jumped at the door and banged its head against the window, leaving a smear of doggy drool. "That was close," said Draco.
Hermione looked around the car. The steering wheel was on the left side. "We're definitely not in Britain anymore, Draco." She waved towards the wheel, upon which Draco was resting his arms.
"Does it really matter where we are, Hermione? Wherever it is, it's not Hogwarts." He turned away from the window and faced her. "Now what?"
"I think we should switch seats. My parents are Muggles, I've at least ridden in a car before."
"Doesn't mean you know how to drive it."
"No, but I at least know what to do with it. You wouldn't even know which pedal was which."
"There are pedals?" He inspected the dash.
"Move over." She inched towards him. "Climb over me."
Draco started to move to the passenger seat, but his feet got tangled in the pedals and Hermione's feet, and he ended up falling into her lap, with an "oof."
Hermione jumped. "What are you doing?" His face was resting on her thigh.
"You really don't think I did think on purpose, do you?"
"Given certain other events, I wouldn't rule it out. Move over." She kicked his foot.
"Certain other events that you also participated in."
"Move over, Malfoy."
"You already said that."
"Well, I meant it. Move over."
Instead, he brought his hands closed to his face, and rubbed the material of her trousers lightly over her legs. "You're pretty when you're angry."
"Oh god, Malfoy. Have you been reading Muggle romance novels? Really, that's the stupidest thing anyone's ever said to me. Get off, I want to see if I can get the car to work." She pushed him, succeeding only in moving him closer to the front of the car.
"I'm moving. You don't have to get violent."
"Seems it's the only thing you actually respond to. Light you wand."
"Lumos."
Hermione stared intently at the dashboard, trying to make sense of it. She'd seen her parents drive; she knew the basics. Stick key in, turn key. Press gas pedal. It seemed easy enough. She was sure she could drive, if she could figure out how to start the blasted thing.
The wand light went out.
"Hey!"
"You've seen everything. Besides you were looking out the window. .Are the dogs still there?"
He was answered by loud barking.
"Yes," said Hermione. "They're still there."
Draco said nothing, and didn't light his wand again.
Hermione watched the rain splatter on the windshield, and wished fervently that she knew how to apparate. Or that she had a key. Then it came to her. "Draco," she said, "Do you still have those bullets in your pocket?"
"Yes," he said. "Are you going to shoot the dogs?"
"No. Give me one."
He handed her a bullet, giving her a questioning look.
"I'm going to make a key," Hermione said, beaming.
