The Distance to Here
Chapter 12
A/N: ::all of the readers gasp in deep surprise:: Wow. It's been what, four days? And I've already posted! Kudos to me and my genius. For all of those who wanted more D/Hr, here it is! An entire Draco-Hermione-centric chapter just for you. Of course, there's not a lot of romance, but there is a lot of interaction, and George makes a little guest appearance. Enjoy, and remember to review.
The restaurant was a dingy, traditional family place, with grimy windows and stained tables. The walls were a deep hunter green long faded to look like mud, and they were plastered hap-hazardly with football posters and signed celebrity pictures. Sean Connery smiled his 'best wishes' on Draco. Draco scowled at the picture and averted his eyes. He hoped that Hermione had not gone to the Ministry and demanded his capture, or gone to Ginny and told her to kill him. He shuddered, knowing enough of Ginny's power to believe her capable of it.
The tiny bell above the door tinkled its welcome to the newest customer. Draco looked up, and smirked. He couldn't help it. He had utterly defeated her, he could see it on her face, and everything about her. Hermione's hair was pulled back, she was wearing baggy, unflattering trackies, and she looked like she had aged five years overnight. He alone had caused the total, tired, defeat of the woman staring bewilderedly around the room.
An unexpected wave of pity and guilt drenched over him, blasting him with its icy wall. He didn't feel so triumphant anymore, remembering the feel of her lips on his, the way he had pressed her into the softness of the mattress…Shaking his head slightly, he tilted his hair back and leaned against it, hands behind his head. Draco Malfoy was doing his best to look unaffected, but when Hermione turned her gaze to him, and her eyes narrowed, he had a nervous feeling about what was to come.
~*~
Hermione felt her whole being tighten when she saw Draco, the picture of confidence and cool. A smirk slowly spread onto his face, but there was something wrong with it that she couldn't place. Setting her shoulders, she stalked towards him, eyes barely slits in her head.
"Glad to see you found the place ok," he said. Insolent Bastard.
"Don't you bloody start with me. I have put up with more over the last few days than I have over the past three years of my career! You have played with my mind, changed personalities countess times, ran away and god knows what other little stunts you have up your sleeve. Do you have any idea what I went through this morning? My head was pounding, I was going out of my mind with worry, what if you were found out and Ginny was compromised?!" She was speaking through her teeth, voice deadly with venom.
Draco's pity was rapidly evaporating, along with his remorse. Who the hell did she think she was, lecturing him like a naughty child? Pansy had never done that…He sighed audibly and rubbed his temples.
"Look, Granger, taking you to a public place was a way of preserving my life. Here, you can't kill me, and I knew that if I hadn't left when you were asleep, I never would have convinced you to come out with me. But I knew you would have to do your job. I'm sorry you thought I had gone and run off to the Dark L- to Voldemort. But if it's a matter between your feelings and my life, it's not going to be your day." Draco stared insolently up at Hermione, not budging an inch with his eye contact.
Hermione was a woman scorned, but her brain always overpowered her emotions. She felt her anger slowly ebbing away as the truth of his words sunk in. But she was disturbed by the fact that even through all of the insane what-ifs of that morning, the thought had never occurred to her that he would have changed sides. Could she perhaps be learning to trust Draco Malfoy? No. Never.
"Yeah, well," she muttered, in a very Ron-like way, pulling up a chair. There was no way in hell she would let him get off so easily. She was enjoying being annoying, at least for the time being. It was funwatching Draco squirm in what would be an imperceptible way if she weren't such a good judge of character.
"What can I get you doves?" A petite, fake-blond waitress bustled over with a pot of steaming Irish Cream. She spilled some onto the already stained carpet.
"I'll have the full breakfast, and the most expensive dessert you have. He's paying," Hermione said sweetly, handing Draco's menu to the waitress, who smiled vacantly as she wrote down the order. "Oh, and a coffee for me, as well." Draco rolled his eyes to the heavens.
~*~
"When we get back I need to you talk to Ron," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, taking advantage of the truce of sorts that had been established between them. She had finished a grand total of half the breakfast, 3 cups of coffee, and hadn't touched the dessert, which alone had cost them five euros of Muggle money. The doggy-bag swung gently at her side.
"We need to organize something with the Ministry, so they don't get in our way," she continued. "We also need to collaborate with Ginny to work out a plan to deal with Voldemort." They were heading back to the Bed and Breakfast, or the "Flower Power Headquarters", as Draco had so eloquently- and disdainfully- put it.
Reaching a mutual agreement, they had decided to put their heads together to come up with a plan of action. Many things were at stake here, Ginny's life, for one, and that vibrant young woman was incentive enough for both of them to swallow at least a minor amount of pride.
"Alright," he replied,, albeit a little sullenly. Damn Ginny and her friendship. He felt as if he was causing a little more trouble than he was worth. "Why don't you just let me die?" he asked suddenly, turning to face Hermione, stopping in his tracks. She did not meet his eye, but kept walking determinedly forwards, stepping around him.
"Because it's not my job to decide who Voldemort kills, only to try and prevent him from killing at all."
"That's not a real ans-" Draco stopped dead and stared.
A brilliant green skull, mouth open, had risen over the roof of the Bed and Breakfast. Its eyes were menacing slits, inspiring fear and horror even in those who did not understand its significance. The light exuded by it overpowered the sunlight, glittering its luminescent emerald for all to see. The Mark was possibly even more fearful to behold in broad daylight, because it renewed Hermione's awareness that Voldemort was more powerful than she thought, and that his supporters, if anything, matched her power. Unlike her, however, they were willing to exploit it. Danger was all around her. She whipped around to face Draco, who was standing stiff-shouldered, tight-lipped.
"We can't be here when Ministry officials get here," she said urgently, unaware that the emergency of the previous night would render any trip to Ireland impossible. "Do you know the city? Where's the nearest Floo connection?"
Wordlessly, Draco began to run along streets, hand clasped to her elbow. He dodged here and there, cutting across alleyways. Eighteenth century architecture and modern storefronts passed Hermione in a confused blur.
They finally slowed and stopped in front of an old "Exotic Pet Supplies" store that was marked as closed. Draco barged in, and Hermione, following him, saw the interior transform into a wood-paneled room with jars of pickled salamander tails, baked toad spleens and other potion ingredients. Hermione gazed around at the shop while Draco drew himself up to full intimidation height. After a few minutes of brief words with the chubby, bald man behind the counter, Draco grabbed Hermione's arm again.
"Let's go," he muttered. "I'm not sure I trust him, he seemed to be studying my face." When she looked blank, he elaborated. "He might think I look familiar. Being recognized by anyone right now is not a good idea."
Hermione gave a curt nod, and picked up her pace.
They followed the waddling man into the back room, where the walls were blank, and made of a smooth stone face that reminded Hermione of the inside of a cave. There was a distinct dripping noise that made her suspicious.
"You can go first," Draco said, ushering Hermione to stand in the grimy stone fireplace. It looked like it had been carved into the wall. "Where to?" he asked, looking somberly at her.
It took a while for her to answer, his eyes distracted her. They seemed to slow her mind down, tune it out. It was like a silencer for her brain. She liked it.
"Right now I'd say the safest place is Hogwarts, but we could be endangering the students if we go there. I don't know, what do you think?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of the students endangering us," Draco said shrewdly. "I mean, kids of Death Eaters go to the school, and they could compromise us. After all, I went there," he said bitterly. "Let's go somewhere else."
But he couldn't think of any place that could possible serve as a haven to them. It was strange that while before he had renounced the Death Eater status everything had been open to him. Now, it was very clear and very real that they were outnumbered, and surrounded.
"Whizard Wheezes," Hermione said suddenly.
"Bless you," he said, smirking rakishly. "Seriously, Granger the joke shop? Have you gone bleeding mad? That's in Diagon Alley, remember? Loads of people, and it's broad bloody daylight!" Hermione waved his concerns aside. She stepped inside the fireplace.
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" she said clearly, and disappeared in a flash of green flame.
Muttering under his breath about overly independent women and the naiveté of Gryffindors, he followed suit. Draco was still suspicious about the bald wizard who watched him behind thick spectacles as he disappeared, but it couldn't be helped. Neither of them had a wand to challenge him with, in any case.
~*~
"Well, Hermione, I don't know where you can find a place but it's not here. I'm not keen on having Death Eaters bursting into my shop, thank you very much!" George shook his head, and walked a few paces away from Hermione and Draco, standing side by side in front of the fireplace. George had nearly had a heart attack when he walked in to find them together in the back of his shop, a culmination of his own and his brother's lifelong dream.
"George, you don't understand. Ginny wants to keep him alive, she needs to keep him alive. If someone finds him, Ginny will be found out. All the Occlumency in the world won't save her, when one of her own declares her a traitor. You saw what happened to Snape, do you want the same for your only sister?" Hermione knew that she was treading very dangerous waters by pulling out the pity card- it could very easily backfire.
George turned around abruptly, eyes slightly bleary. He and Ginny were very close, and he loved her almost as much as he loved Fred.
"Fine," he said, heaving a great sigh, "but I'm doing this for my sister, not for you Hermione, and certainly not for you." The insult and hate Draco had caused for utterly destroying the twins' final year of Hogwarts had never really dissipated, because they had parted ways so soon after their misunderstanding.
There was an exuberant flatulence from the front of the shop, that was the doormat indicating a customer. George turned to go.
"By the way," he muttered reluctantly, "meeting. Today. Stick around." The beaded curtains clicked together pleasantly as he pushed through to the front of the shop.
"You like the mat?" they heard him say, "I'll give it to you for three Galleons.
Draco and Hermione exchanged a tired look.
"Well, I hope to God you're trustworthy, because you're about to be privy to a hell of a lot of information. And please-" she said, voice pleading, "please, try to co-operate with them. At least don't provoke them."
"Don't worry about me, Granger, I can certainly take care of myself. You're not my caretaker or guardian," he replied, with an edge of anger creeping into his voice and his stormy eyes. He was letting her see his emotions on purpose, trying to intimidate him. He underestimated her badly.
"I'm not trying to protect you," she retorted. "I'm trying to make the most of people's time. This meeting is crucial and will be rendered useless if all we do is bicker over schoolboy grudges and rivalries. Just- do me a favour and be nice. Please?"
"Fine," he said impatiently. He was willing to do it to appease her. Sometimes he thought that it was just easier to be on her god side. It was certainly much less stressful.
"Now, will you wait here while I go to get my wand back? I'll only be one a little while." Draco nodded and turned away. Hermione shrugged and disappeared into the fireplace, a flash of green signaling her departure.
The flash of Floo powder illuminated the contours of Draco's face for only an instant, though the effects of it were longer-lasting. He stared at the fire long after she had gone. Two women disappearing in a flash of green. Only one would come back. Pansy would never have let him go, and here he was, only a month after her death, attracted to someone else, even developing an emotional attachment of some kind. How could he do this to Pansy's memory?
But digging deeply within himself for the answers, he realized that in only one part of her life had Pansy been unselfish: when it came to him. And he knew that their places had been reversed, he would have wanted Pansy to move on.
Well, he thought wryly, she probably wouldn't approve of who I'm tempted to move on with.
But he had always known that no one could choose who they were thrown together with, no one could choose if and when they came out of that encounter different.