Hermione

The forest

1998

Hermione paced like a mad woman around a tiny table that had been setup within the tent. Their accommodations were not as spacious as their last tent, but it would have to do.

"We have to find them," Hermione declared, accentuating her point by flaying her hands tersely into the air. Draco, sitting on the bench at the table, watched her carefully as if she was a live grenade.

"We'll find them," he said, his voice calm and assertive. Hermione felt her nerves loosen.

"What if they're in danger?" she questioned, stopping in her tracks at the sudden thought. Her eyes swiveled back to Malfoy's face.

He didn't condemn her worry with any judgmental glare, but was honest all the same.

"There is nothing we can do about it now. And it pains me to say it, but seeing as how Potter just pulled off breaking out of Gringotts on the back of a blind captive dragon, I think that he will be OK."

"What about Ron?" Hermione exclaimed, to which Malfoy only returned a sinister 'don't tempt me' grin. "Draco! I'm being serious"

His body reacted oddly to her scold; his eyes lit up and his body tightened.

"I'm sorry," he surrendered, "they will both be alright, and we will find them."

Hermione sucked in a thin breath.

Ever since they landed in the forest outside some Malfoy estate, Hermione had been pure adrenaline.

But now that they had talked through her concerns about Harry and Ron, she wasn't able to escape the nagging feeling that now made her heart thud.

She was totally alone with Malfoy, and despite being presently on the run, and trying to vanquish Voldemort, the solitude granted with the Slytherin made her dreadfully nervous.

Off in thought, Hermione eventually realized that she had been staring at him, and him back at her. With a prickle of red to the neck, she averted her gaze and began walking around the tent, albeit in a less agitated manner, even if her muscles still coiled tightly in her arms and neck.

Hermione could no longer deny that there was something more than just a fascination growing for Malfoy. She gravitated towards him. When she was near him, he quieted that uncomfortable buzz in her skin that seemed to radiate off of her when he wasn't in proximity. When he was gone, her heart felt empty.

It was embarrassing for her to admit, because the timing couldn't be worse. Yes, he had defected as a Death Eater, which seemed to indicate a shift in his ideals, but he did not seem drawn to her in the way she did to him. No, he wouldn't avoid her, but he was stiff and cold at times. Like she was a toddler dragging around an older sibling who had to be there with them.

Hermione was certain, though, that he no longer hated her. Which was a relief. If she could label his behavior, it would have to be conflicted.

And why wouldn't he be? Their situation was… complicated.

Hermione distracted her racing mind by looking around the tent. It was still a magical tent, so it was much larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside, but it wasn't as extravagant as some of the previous magical tents she had occupied. This tent that she grabbed from Bill and Fleur had a small kitchen area with a wood stove and a square counter just large enough to prepare food on, but no sink. The table was positioned near the cooking area, and just outside of the common area was a single bed.

She stared at the bed like it was staring back at her, evoking strange thoughts that lurked in her subconscious.

To her side, Malfoy caught her staring contest.

"I saw blankets in a trunk," Malfoy's words shook her focus on the bed loose. She turned to see him a short distance away opening up a chest, "I can sleep on the ground."

All she could do was return a curt nod. She couldn't speak. Her filter wasn't always tip top, and she feared she may make a counteroffer to share the bed.

After a moment composing herself, she looked back to Malfoy and noticed the absence of burn marks on his clothing. She approached him with her wand.

"You were dreadfully burned back there. Can I get you some salve?" Hermione asked, scanning his body tentatively for injury.

Now in front of him, he had to turn his chin down to take her in.

"I already healed them. I used a Sana and Frigus charm," he showed her his arm that only bore evidence of pink skin that was healing.

Her brows crept closer to her hairline. Those were impressive charms that he used. She honestly wouldn't have thought to use Sana, but the theory made sense. It was kind of nice to be on the run with someone so capable.

"You still have a burn on your neck," he pointed out, moving closer. "Can I heal it?"

A pang of guilt struck her. She had already healed her leg burns but hadn't tended to Malfoy. Now he was offering to help with what she missed.

She nodded all the same for him to continue.

Her blistered raw skin pulled together and tingled with the regeneration of skin. Then it morphed into a funny sensation; like an ice cube without moisture was being placed against her neck.

He hadn't even uttered the incantation. It would seem all of his spells, for the most part, were wordless now.

Hermione looked up to see Malfoy frowning at his wand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, now rubbing the part of her neck that he healed.

"It just feels wrong," he told her, letting the wand move back and forth between his fingers.

Hermione couldn't help but think Malfoy with a wand not his own was still excruciatingly impressive.

When she realized that, yet again, she was staring at him, she rushed to distract herself.

"I packed some sandwiches, we should eat," Hermione said in a rush, moving out of Malfoy's orbit.

A pang of worry hit her with the recognition that Harry and Ron would likely have no food.

Hermione's dreams that night were chaotic.

Before finally falling asleep, she had tried to get Draco to take the bed over her, but he refused. There wasn't much room in the tent though, so he set up his blankets near the bed.

She toyed with the idea of suggesting they share the bed, since it wasn't so tiny that it couldn't sleep two comfortably without the fear of accidentally touching one another, but she couldn't bring herself to it.

Likely, the subject matter of most of her dreams that night were due to the events from that day, and the incessant humming of her mind on the topic of the Slytherin she now shared close quarters with.

In retrospect though, the dreams were probably brought on by the horocrux being so near to where they slept. Unlike the locket, she didn't have to wear it, but could still feel its powers reverberate out like a heat wave. It wasn't a great idea to have her satchel with the cup so close to the bed, but she knew it should remain close by.

After they ate earlier in the day, Hermione took the cup out to show Draco. Hermione wasn't sure what she should divulge what it was, especially without asking Harry first, but he was good about not pressing the question. It was a shame really. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if Draco happened to know a great deal about horocruxs. Not to mention, she was beginning to vehemently trust the former Death Eater.

Her dreams began serene, if not a bit baffling. She materialized on that old ratty couch that made regular appearances in her dreams. She was safe and warm there. When her eyes turned down, she found arms tightly wrapped around her.

Whether it be in the dream, or in real life, her heart rate pulsed feeling a body behind her. She inspected her surroundings and found stacks and stacks of random items piled up. There was a mysterious light with no known source illuminating the room.

Then the dream swirled into something new. It was a colder time where there was snow. When she looked up, she found an impressive looking snowman with a pine cone nose. Was this a memory of her parents? Her eyes trailed down again and found those same arms holding her securely against the firmness of a body behind her.

The coldness transformed from a feeling against her skin to something felt deep inside her. It was fear. She was back in Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix was crouched over her body, her eyes deranged and bugged out. The witch was carving the word "mudblood" into her arm. Was it a dream? Hermione swore she could feel fresh cuts tear into her arm.

It took her a second to realize she was screaming. She had bolted upright in the bed, but immediately Draco was there. A cold sweat drenched her body and clothes.

"Hey," he kept saying, trying to hold her face in place. Her eyes darted around, desperately attempting to establish where she was. Draco Malfoy being next to her in a bed only confused the scene further.

"Granger, hey," he held her face tighter, pulling her to look at him.

Her eyes finally slowed and found his, which were now incredibly close. Her attention trailed down and found that he was only wearing a white tee shirt and boxers as he perched on the side of the bed.

She refocused on the coolness of his eyes, and the sincerity of his stare. She took a deep breath.

"Bad dream," Hermione muttered, letting her chin drop down.

"It was at the Manor, with Bellatrix? Wasn't it?" he asked in a steely tone. Hermione looked back up and nodded.

He looked gutted. The hands that were still on her face softened. "I'm so sorry," he apologized. His voice felt both strangled, and desperate.

"Draco I don't blame you," she assured him. Her hand found his leg and despite the spark she felt at touching his bare knee she kept it there.

"I'll never forgive myself," he said mostly to himself. Hermione monitored the blonde wizard in front of her and wondered if he too was feeling a bit disheveled from being awoken so suddenly.

"Draco," she said again, steadying her voice. Something burned like anger behind his eyes, but after a moment locked with hers, they cooled. "This war is terrible, and there will be things that happen that we don't like. We survived. That's all that matters."

His posture slackened and for a few stolen seconds, the two stared into one another, finding sanctuary.

"Do you need anything to help you sleep?" he asked her finally. It was only then that he let his hands drift away from her face.

A bold tremor coursed through her. She knew what she wanted, knew exactly what it was that would cast her away into a deep sleep. Perhaps she was still in a daze from her dreams, but she settled on asking for what she needed.

"If you'd be OK with it," she began, her eyes flickering down and then back up to him, "would you mind sleeping next to me?"

Panic lit his eyes. He looked at her, then the bed, and back at her. "You want me to share a bed with you?"

Embarrassment nearly took her over, but he spoke again before she could relent.

"Of course, if it would help you sleep."

His face was impassive as he agreed, and Hermione fought off a chime of excitement that cycled through her system.

Nervously, she eased herself back under the covers, hardly knowing how to use her limbs anymore. Behind her, she felt movement until his body was alongside hers.

It felt like the vivid dreams she had been having all year. But one thing was missing.

"Would it help…" he posed the beginnings of a question against her ear. His tone was deep enough to send a vibration through her skin. And seemingly having read her mind, positioned his arm securely around her, "if I did this?"

Like a reflex, her body settled into his, finding that despite how odd this all was, it all felt so natural. And beyond that, him holding her calmed her senses. He was like a dose of something she had needed for too long.

"Yes, that does help. Thank you." Hermione responded, in a tone that felt overly polite and too professional for the situation.

She moved her arms around until they settled on the outside of his. His skin felt like marble that had been heated from a day's worth of sun.

His breath lingered by her ear and it sounded uneven. He didn't seem at ease, Hermione thought painfully.

But she couldn't fight how at peace she was. Her body softened, pressing the length of her body against his.

He twitched slightly at her adjustment, but then steadied, and seemed to subtly relax into the embrace.

Her brain was nearing the point of no return where sleep would take her. Before she was gone she heard herself say, "thank you Draco," in a sleepy sort of state.

"Goodnight Granger," he spoke softly into her ear.

Part of her wanted to stay up and savor this feeling. It felt like a one time deal, and she already mourned the loss of it.

But her body was so at ease that she couldn't fight sleep any longer. That night was the best night of sleep Hermione had since being on the run.