Travel Companions (2/?)

by pari

[see previous chapter for disclaimers, etc.]

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The rest of their flight progressed without incident. Unless, of course, you considered Malfoy's almost inaudible grumbling - and the flight attendants' attempts to regain the pillow Hermione had snitched from their courtesy cart while they weren't looking - incidental.

Nonetheless, Hermione was not enjoying her now silent voyage to the States, and was absolutely disgusted with herself because of it. Draco Malfoy was the most infuriating git she'd ever had the questionable pleasure of not killing... She'd taken one, itty-bitty stand to avenge herself for all the wrongs Malfoy had done to her over the years (in as much as pouting could be considered vengeance-worthy wrongdoing, and in the way that stomping on a man's foot could be considered vengeance)...

And she felt guilty about it.

It was absolutely disgusting.

Apparently, while Draco's penchant for the occasional violent outburst had rubbed off somewhat, his ability to seem completely remorseless afterwards was not of the catchy variety. Hermione couldn't even pretend not to feel foolish for having lost her temper and acted childish towards him. She was nearly giddy with relief when their flight was over. Malfoy, while often inconsiderate, was anything but oblivious. He had - to her mortification - obviously picked up on her discomfort, and his earlier scowl had softened further and further into a smug little sneer.

And what really got Hermione's blood boiling was the fact that she hadn't even stomped hard. If she'd known how much Malfoy was going to torment her later, she might have aimed at breaking his foot. Or at least one small toe.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and tried not to scream as Malfoy limped off the plane in front of her. The blonde flight attendant that Malfoy had been flirting with most attentively was trying to glare at Hermione inconspicuously, and a fellow passenger had taken it upon himself to walk with Malfoy out the exit. Just in case Malfoy should trip, he said, though the hand he pressed against the small of Malfoy's back didn't look like it was resting there for that purpose.

Hermione, busy imagining a world in which she could hex everyone within a half-mile radius of her and not get caught, didn't even smirk, though the expression of sudden alarm and dismay that spread across Draco's face at that was quite funny.

Sometimes Malfoy forgot that females weren't of the only gender vulnerable to his pureblooded charm, at least so far as Muggles were concerned.

Hermione finally felt her anger beginning to slip away as the poor bloke, now walking towards the luggage carousel with them, continued to ignore Malfoy's many insistences that, yes, he was okay, and Hermione could help him just fine, thank you.

Hermione blinked innocently and hung a few steps back as if to say, 'Who? Me?' For which she earned herself a look that would have made her hair stand on end if she hadn't absolutely been enjoying herself.

It was only after the man had introduced himself, and had actually asked for a phone number, that Hermione decided to step in. Both because she feared for all their lives should Draco be given time to respond to such a request, and because she was already so close to splitting her sides with laughter that it was painful.

She kindly, but firmly, insinuated herself between the Muggle and her partner, and somehow managed to steer Malfoy and their luggage away before said Muggle could find himself at the wrong end of an angry Malfoy's wand.

"That wasn't funny, Granger," Draco told her with narrowed eyes as they walked away, Hermione now laughing outright. She quieted down a bit, took one look at him and the way he was silently shuddering, all indignant, wounded male pride, and began to laugh again, so hard that tears came to her eyes.

"Oh, yes it was!" she insisted between gasps. Draco's wand hand flinched, reflexively. But he felt the corners of his mouth twitch as well, despite himself. It was hard to stay angry in the face of the Muggle-born's laughter; Draco very rarely got to see her in such a state. And his wand hand flinched again as he, with a good deal of horror, realized that he'd just been thinking what a shame it was that he didn't get to see Hermione laugh more often. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and she had tiny little dimples on either side of her small mouth.

Draco nearly tripped over his own feet as he caught himself realizing this.

He was not seriously thinking about Granger's eyes and mouth, was he? Respecting and even appreciating the woman's company, in a professional capacity, was one thing - Draco had long ago come to terms with the fact that he rather liked working with the witch, as opposed to most of their fellow Aurors. Actually wanting to be in her personal company on a regular basis was another animal entirely.

One that might bite.

"And for Merlin's sake, Malfoy, stop limping! Your foot doesn't even hurt!" Hermione sighed in exasperation.

Malfoy smirked.

"It might. You've got quite a stomp there, Granger. I suppose years of kicking the Weasel's arse to keep him in line have paid off," he teased, relieved to be back on surer ground. "Oi, now, don't look at me like that! You should be proud of your talents. I'm a bit impressed myself. Never pegged you as the physical type, Granger." Malfoy leered and winked, just for good measure.

Hermione snorted with a roll of her eyes. If Draco was disappointed that his barbs got no more reaction out of her than that, he didn't show it.

"Never you mind what type I am, Malfoy," she said, pointedly ignoring the double meaning in his words, as he chuckled. "Although, speaking of types, I am curious as to when you became the damsel in distress sort of..."

"Damsel..." All chuckling stopped as Malfoy stared at her.

"It's no wonder you've got yourself a gentleman caller. Limping like a wounded soldier..."

"Gentleman call.... Granger!" he sputtered.

"...and dressed like that! Cashmere isn't the manliest of fabrics, you know, Malfoy," Hermione continued, unabated. If her eyes had been sparkling before, now they were virtually aglow. She nearly had to stop Malfoy from walking into a post as they weaved their way through the terminal towards the rental car office near the front. Her plan was, in part, to distract Malfoy from realizing they were in fact going to rent a car, and in part a means of paying him back for that "Weasel" jibe.

Hermione stopped outside the office and turned, nearly having to hold out her hands and stop Malfoy from walking into her, as well.

Bumping into six feet of impeccably clad, most definitely not delicate, Auror was not the way for a girl to keep her mind on questioning said Auror's masculinity.

Hermione frowned, stepping back and damning whatever demon had been cruel enough to sell Malfoy a cologne that smelled that nice, back to the farthest depths of hell.

"You should try something less feminine," she babbled, continuing trying to distract. "Like flannel or..."

"Flannel! That's it, Granger, one more word and we're going to duel, I bloody well..."

"...leather or..."

Abruptly, Hermione's mind caught up with her mouth. 'Oh, dear God, don't let him listen to the advice about the leather!' she prayed, and snapped her mouth firmly shut.

Malfoy looked as though he'd been hit upside the head with something blunt.

He was either stunned by her audacity, her suddenly odd and nervous behavior, or - still - by the unforgivable suggestion that something like flannel be put on his person.

Perhaps it was a combination of all of the above. Hermione had never babbled or teased Malfoy quite so much. But then, she'd never been this far out into the Muggle world with Malfoy before. And desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Stay. right. here," Hermione told him, wagging her finger as if at a child, then swept into the office behind her before she could blush too bright a red.

Malfoy blinked, then glanced up at the sign hanging above the door into which Granger had disappeared. Then he looked again and his eyes widened.

"Rent-a-what? Granger!"

[to be continued...]

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A/N: I did actually decide to continue this. Although I didn't get much of a response the last time I posted. Only one e-mail, in fact. (Thank you, you one beautiful person you, by the way :p ) Is there anyone else out there interested in reading more of this? Did this short chapter seem a little off-the mark? (did the hints of D/Hr seem forced/hurried? Were the characterizations off?) Let me know.