Disclaimer:
If I owned J.K. Rowling's stuff,
I surely would have money enough
To claim that my name's Dagobert Duck.
I could buy houses, horses and cars,
Could even pay for a journey to Mars,
But would never be able to believe my luck.
However, as you all might know,
My budget is constantly running low.
Therefore I can't afford to say
That I own Harry in any way.
Author's Note: Not much to say. Thank you for the reviews. If you're done reading this chapter it would be great if you could post another review…really. :) And please leave your email address if you want me to be able to reply to your questions and comments.
Special thanks goes to Stephanie. She is a wonderful beta-reader. (She had time to correct most of this chapter). The last part of this chapter isn't beta-read yet, but as soon as I get that version I'll post it. Just couldn't let my readers wait any longer.
***
Married?!
Chapter 4
Precious Moments?***
"Hermione! Will you please move your arse downstairs? You've been keeping me waiting for ages," Draco roared through the open front door, but didn't even bother to listen for Hermione's reply. Meanwhile, he had changed into some tattered looking, old robes he had found in one of the rooms upstairs. He was absolutely sure that this kind of clothing was not even close to what he was used to wearing, but at the moment he didn't have much of choice and robes were at least better than silk pyjamas. Crossing his arms in front of his chest he lazily leaned back against the doorframe. "For Heaven's sake, what are you doing up there?"
"So you missed me and couldn't wait to have me back by your side, hm?" Hermione greeted him with a smile as she finally stepped back outside in the radiant sunshine. She was carrying a rather large bundle in her arms and carefully set it down on the ground in front of her. Questioningly, Draco raised an eyebrow at her.
***
While Draco and Hermione are still busy, let's leave them for a second, because not far away from the Burrow, two people are having a quite interesting conversation. I doubt that you have an invisibility cloak with you or that you know any spells to make yourself invisible, but if we keep quiet and are careful not to make too much noise, I'm sure we can tip-toe near enough to be able to hear what they are actually saying.
"You're kidding," Harry said, leaning against a nearby tree-trunk for support. He had visibly paled and he wasn't quite sure whether his knees would support him any longer.
"No, I'm not. I tell you, they are married. No doubt about it. I heard it with my own ears." Rita Skeeter repeated and eyed Harry anxiously. "I wish I could publish that in the Daily Prophet. I can already imagine the headline: "Pureblood Malfoy marries muggle-born Witch!" And the ring she's got on her finger…I can tell you every woman I know would kill for such a ring." Sighing she looked at her own right hand, which held no jewellery at all and was stained and dirty. Her once carefully manicured finger-nails which had been nearly two inches long and had been painted in a deep crimson, were broken and a disgrace to the entire wizarding world in her own opinion.
"Rita. It's enough. Spare me the details," Harry interrupted her train of thought, sensing that she drifted off into nostalgia and would soon start to get on his nerves telling tales of "the good old time." "And there's no chance you mistook her for someone else?"
Rita Skeeter looked insulted. "For the last time. I saw Hermione Granger and she sure as hell was with Draco Malfoy and they are married for heaven's sake." With that she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.
Harry still couldn't quite believe what he had heard. He wished Ron could be here with him, but since their last encounter with Voldemort's henchmen he had neither seen nor heard anything from his two best friends. Until today. Slowly his knees gave way and he sat down on the ground. Hermione a traitor? And with Malfoy? That was hilarious. She'd never do something like that. Hermione Granger would never betray him. But…he had thought the same of Dumbledore, hadn't he? And Dumbledore had betrayed them all. Harry buried his face in his arms. His head ached and so did his heart. For four days he had been hoping to get news about the whereabouts of his two best friends, and now he knew exactly where one of them was and would give anything to get rid of that kind of knowledge
***
"It's a tent," Hermione declared proudly and pointed at what to Draco looked more like a bundle of old and dirty rags then a tent. He wasn't sure of what to make of it.
"A tent," he repeated dully.
"Yeah," Hermione answered enthusiastically. "You see, something where we can spend the night in, or do you prefer to sleep out in the open?" She completely ignored the sceptical look Draco gave her and pulled out Ginny's wand. "It's not in the best state, but there's nothing we can't fix," and with that she lowered the wand and said "Reparo!" To her own amazement the spell worked and the tent appeared to be less battered. "See? Now come on, I thought it was you who was in such a hurry to get away from here?"
Hermione didn't even wait for Draco's reply, she simply bent down, picked up the tent and purposely marched away from the house. Draco silently shook his head, then followed her down the road. This woman slowly but surely drove him crazy with her bossy attitude.
***
The sun was already setting and Hermione and Draco both had the feeling that they sooner or later would die a most painful death because of the lack of food. They hadn't had breakfast, lunch or dinner and it wouldn't take long until their starved bodies would be found by an innocent stroller. They hadn't talked much since they had left the Burrow, both were lost in their own thoughts, trying to remember something about themselves.
"That's it, I refuse to go any further than that," Hermione complained and stopped walking.
"For once, I agree with you, Hermione," Draco assented and gave her a genuine smile.
Hermione went over to a group of trees and put the tent she had carried with her nearly all day down on the ground. Draco hadn't bothered to offer to carry the tent for her and she had been too proud to ask for his help and to be honest, with a quick "Reducio" the bundle had been small enough to fit into one of the pockets in her black robes.
Draco watched her and the tend from a safe distance. He didn't know what to think of it, yet and he wasn't sure whether it was beneath his dignity to either spend a night in such a thing or to stay outside.
In the meantime, Hermione had managed to put up the tent. It looked scruffy and shabby and had an ugly, slimy green colour. A little chimney was attached to its side and as Hermione unzipped the opening, Draco was sure he could see some spiders crawl out of the entrance.
"What are you waiting for?" Hermione shouted and motioned him to come closer, but Draco remained where he was. "Uh, come on." She walked over to him and gently took his hand in hers and pulled him with her towards the tent and inside it.
They found themselves in a stuffy, narrow corridor. Three doors, one ahead of them, the others to their left and right, obviously lead to adjoining rooms. Still clutching to Draco's hand Hermione set off to explore their night-quarter. The door to their right concealed an old-fashioned little bathroom, which looked as if it hadn't been used for quite some time judging from the slimy green substance which covered the sink and the bathtub. The opposite door lead to a stifling, but inviting bedroom. Last but not least, there was even a tiny kitchen. The ancient-looking cupboards and shelves were covered with cobwebs, Hermione nevertheless didn't hesitate to open them.
"Look," she exclaimed and reached up to take out a dusty tin, "the shelf life says we can still it eat!"
"Great." Draco sounded rather disgusted. His nose was scrunched up and he refused to touch anything inside the kitchen.
"Oh, come on. You act like a baby. It's not that bad." And with that she pushed him over to the small kitchen table and forcefully made him sit down on one of the grimy wooden chairs.
"Ugh." Draco scowled at her, but Hermione was already busy opening the tins and pouring their contents into various pots and pans she had found in the boards as well. In less then 10 minutes she had dinner ready and set a plate in front of Draco.
"Now, tuck in," she laughed and sitting down beside him she hungrily started to spoon some of the hot stew into her mouth. Reluctantly Draco followed her example. Yes, he was hungry, but was he ready to let himself be poisoned? Finally his hunger succeeded and he surrendered to the delicious smell that rose from his plate.
Draco enjoyed their meal tremendously, he did not only have a full stomach, but he and Hermione had their first real conversation since they had woken next to each other in the morning. They laughed, talked and joked, and he couldn't help but feel comfortable in her company. Yawning, Hermione stretched and leant back in her chair.
"I don't know what you're up to, but I definitely need a couple of hours sleep. I'm dead tired," she murmured and stifled another yawn. Getting up she picked up her plate and on her way out put it in the sink. Draco followed her every move with his eyes and got up himself.
"Thank you," he whispered and encircled her waist from behind with his arms. Hermione's body went rigid for a second, but then she relaxed, because, after all, it was just Draco holding her this close.
It was probably the oh so familiar smell of Vanilla and Honey that triggered the memory off that hit him without warning. There she was lying in front of him in her dirty and torn robes and he roughly gabbed her arm and pulled her up. No gently movement. Harsh and full of hate and disgust. He beat her, smacked her hard across her face and he knew and felt that he had enjoyed every single moment.
Hermione was still in his arms as he pulled away. Draco couldn't look at her, but she just smiled at him, yawned and went towards the bedroom.
"Hey, uhm," she started, "there's only one bed." She wasn't sure herself whether this was a statement or a question and standing in the doorway she blushed a little. After all, if they were married there shouldn't be a problem with only one bed.
Under different circumstances Draco would have smirked, but right now he only gave her a brief, weak smile. "No problem. You can have the bed. I'm not that tired." He could hear that Hermione softly entered the bedroom and snuggled into the covers.
Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong with his memory. How could he hurt Hermione if she was his wife? He'd never voluntarily hurt the woman he loved, would he? Nervously he ran his fingers through his silver white hair. Did he love her?
He buried his hands in his pockets and accidentally his fingers brushed against something smooth. The picture. Taking it out he had a closer look at it. Again a younger Hermione and the two boys next to her smiled and waved at him cheerily. Maybe he should give the photo to her? Intently he stared at it waiting for another cold wave to wash over him to bring him new old memories. Something that would make him understand what had happened, but nothing would come.
