He tensed, freezing like a statue on top of the smoldering ground.
I'm alive.
He was so sure she was going to kill him.
He'd prattled on uncontrollably as she screeched in his face, not really thinking about what he was saying as he begged for her mercy.
Audibly heaving, his lungs forced him to release the breath he'd held as the sun beat down on his face, his cloudy eyes glistening with moisture.
He was used to fear. He lived it every day at the Manor.
He was scared of the Dark Lord, for fear that one day his family be persecuted. In a matter of speaking, he could say his feet bled from the number of eggshells he was forced to walk on. Hell, he'd been really scared when the ground had crumbled under his feet, hurling him off the cliff into the lake. That was heart-stopping enough. But he'd been terrified of Hermione as she willfully, and literally, tore him a new hole. Never before had he seen such unadulterated rage from her.
A single tear slipped past his eyes and onto his cheeks as he lay there unmoving.
And yet…no matter what he'd done to her. Despite everything he'd said to her. Regardless of how blinded by rage or how frenzied with animosity she'd become.
She let him live.
Another ragged breath escaped him. He couldn't understand her.
She brokenly sobbed into his ear, holding him tightly as her chest heaved on his, making him wince.
Inhaling deeply, he tried controlling his breathing.
The one thing he knew for sure; he had lost.
He had every means to escape and he hadn't gone. He could have apparated. He could have freed himself from the misery. He couldn't even remember why that damn rabbit was so important. He had Potter's money in his pocket; he could have chosen any restaurant and devoured the menu. He could have gone to the ministry and informed them of her whereabouts, dammed be the consequences. Maybe he would have even been rewarded.
His face scrunched up in anguish, his self-control backsliding as he let out a shaky breath. He could have gone home.
He balled his fists as a new wave of tears slipped down either side of his face, moistening Hermione's hair as they went. He banged the ground and let out a cry of frustration and defeat.
If she noticed, she didn't react.
Swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down heavily as he came to terms with reality, slowly sobering up. They were nothing but fantastical desires and delusive thoughts. He knew he couldn't leave. And his one chance to obliviate her was lost.
Hermione's sobbing finally calmed, but she remained in the crook of his neck, effectively hiding her face from his. He was silently grateful for it. He wasn't keen on letting her see him in his obvious mental distress. But also because her weeping would remind him of her time spent at Malfoy Manor, and the screams and tears that had ripped from her as Bellatrix tortured her on the hardwood floor.
The experience had been…scarring.
Not that he cared. It wasn't that. Torture sessions were just another regular day as of late, with death eaters rounding up old school mates and blood traitors. Hell, even that Lovegood girl had been locked away for a while. But with Granger, he'd been expected to stand there, and observe. "Study and learn" his aunt had called it. Like it was a class demonstration he'd be quizzed on. So he watched, stoically, and waited for it to be over. After they'd been rescued, he waited for the panic in the room to settle. Then he briskly walked to the nearest washroom and emptied the contents of this stomach. He grew up with Granger. He saw her nearly every day in class. He knew what subjects she was best at and in which ones she asked the most questions. He knew her insecurities, mostly because he would be the one to cause them. And he knew she loved her idiot friends, golden boy wonder and simpleton extraordinaire.
But despite his hatred for the guy, he hadn't tattled on Potter for a reason. Threatening to torture someone was one thing. That was easy. It could even be fun… but being the sole reason for a massacre, that was another.
Not that it mattered much in the end. They still got caught; he still had to watch Granger get maimed.
Miraculously, they all escaped. And with the help of his father's old house-elf no less.
Hermione hiccupped on top of him, making him wince as her body jerked itself involuntarily, rubbing painfully against his partially reopened wound.
"Granger," he whispered as another one rocked her body, "you're crushing me."
"I don't care," she mumbled back, letting out a heavy breath.
"Please?" He asked, placing his hands on her ribs and lifting a little when she hiccupped again, determined to stop her fucking body from jerking over him.
She lifted her head to look at him, uncaring of her wild appearance, and he quickly averted his bloodshot eyes, muttering a curse as she scrutinized him.
Malfoy never says please.
She hiccupped again and he threw his head back, his fingers digging into her and slightly raising her up once more to relieve the pressure, favoring one side as he did.
Hermione furrowed her brow and let herself slowly roll-off to lay beside him, retracting her arms from him and propping herself up on her forearm. She spotted his injury, mildly bleeding, and its taint on her shirt, a mirror image of his.
"You should probably put pressure on that," she muttered.
"I know," he breathed, and brought a hand up to do so. He closed his eyes, head still swimming as he tried to swallow his shame. Merlin, he was pathetic.
Suddenly, she placed her hand on top of his, adding to the weight. He opened his eyes to glare at her, her eyes puffy and filled with regret and sadness.
"Don't pity me, Granger. It's unbecoming."
"It's called compassion Malfoy, and it's something you sorely lack."
Choosing to ignore her, he closed his eyes again and concentrated on his breathing.
They stayed like that for a few more moments, actively avoiding conversation until Hermione spoke up.
"If it doesn't stop bleeding I'll have to cauterize it."
His eyes snapped open, "like hell you will."
"If I don't it'll increase your chance of inf-"
Unexpectantly, Hermione stopped herself and looked out in the distance.
Oh no.
She whipped her head around, straining to see or hear the grumble of voices she'd heard moments before. She couldn't decipher the words spoken, but she definitely heard more than two people in the vicinity.
And they were in a very open field.
She turned back to Draco.
"Malfoy, we need to apparate," she whispered, getting up into a crouching position and looking around for her wand.
"I don't think s-"
"Shhh!" She said, pointing a finger to the sky, effectively ending his sentence.
He heard them then, the voices. He paled, "Granger, I'm not lying. I'll splinch."
"You should be fine now-" she said, finding her wand and looking around for the other.
He pushed his other hand against the ground and sat up, "I was until this morning!" He hissed.
"What do you mean-"
"I mean when you fucking concussed me-"
"I never-"
"When I hit the ground Granger!" He shouted in a whisper. She looked back at him, eyes wide with the realization that one of them was about to be fucked.
Then, far in the distance, they appeared over a hill. They were at least a dozen people heading their way.
Hermione found the other wand and shoved it into her bag in haste.
"Draco, please," she begged him; "We need to try." She couldn't handle twelve death eaters. And while there stood a small chance they supported the side of the light, the odds weren't in her favor. The Order was rarely seen in such a big group out in the open.
Draco lifted his hand off his chest and turned his palm her way, shaking his head. It was saturated as the blood slowly continued to leak from the gap in his chest.
His eyes nervously flicked between her face and to the men ahead, his thoughts aligning with her speculation. Pressing his hand back onto his breast, he voiced their thoughts aloud.
"This is it Granger. Who's party is it gonna be? Yours or mine?"
Anxiety gripped her.
Draco gave her a lopsided smile. One that reminded her of Ron when she needed cheering up.
"Just think," he said with a dark chuckle. "One of us will finally get a nice, warm, tasty meal."
She didn't laugh.
"Hey!" shouted one of the men who picked up the pace to reach them. Hermione gripped her wand so hard her knuckles turned white. And to Draco's surprise, she stood up and stepped in front of him, facing the stranger as he approached.
The man was heavy. He had a round and large button nose and stark white stubble that stood out in contrast to his dark skin. His large tunic was a deep green and he wore a bright yellow sash that barely reached around his abdomen. He huffed for a moment in front of her, sweat stains apparent before he addressed them in a booming voice.
"Are you two alright?" He asked in a heavy accent.
Neither of them answered right away.
"Oh," Hermione finally answered stupidly, not expecting the question. She turned her head back to Draco a little stunned. Were they…part of the Order after all?
"I splinched," resounded Draco from behind her.
It wasn't his father's men – one, because he didn't recognize him. Two, because that question would have never been asked. And according to that dumb look on her face, Granger obviously didn't know him either.
The man took a couple of heavy steps beside Hermione to look at Draco, who took his hand off to show him the bleed.
"Hey!" Said the man again, turning to wave over the rest of the approaching crowd.
Turning back to Draco, he furrowed his eyebrows, "that does not look like a splinch."
"It's a splinch," he promised, staring fixedly at him.
The man looked away from him and glanced around the area.
"What happened here?" he asked.
"It was like this when we got here," responded Draco. The man furrowed his eyebrows again at him.
"What. It's the truth."
The man stayed silent a moment, observing him.
"God, aren't you going to do anything? I'm bleeding out on this wretched-"
"Sorry about him," said Hermione, coming to her senses and walking up to the man, "my name is Jane. He can be a little fussy when he's in pain," she said, sticking her thumb out to Draco.
The man gave her a small smile, revealing a large gap between his front teeth, and his eyebrows made a quick up and down motion as if to say, apparently.
"Hello Jane, my name is Aballach, but you may call me Ab," he said, a jovial personality coming to light.
"Are you ok?" Asked another man as the rest of them finally arrived.
"Yes I am, but my friend here needs some help," she said, looking back to Draco, who looked like he was about to throw a hissy fit, "can you help us?" She added, looking back.
"Our village is about an hour walk from here," answered Ab, "Do you think you can make it?" he asked, looking to Draco.
"No, I can't," he whined.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Same old Malfoy.
"He'll be fine," she said. His eyes shot daggers at her.
"Did you guys start the fire?" asked a man on her left.
"Like I said," answered Draco, hand still pressed against his wound, "we just got here."
"It's true," she said jumping in. He wasn't sounding very convincing. The scenario looked suspicious enough.
"What happened to you," asked the same man.
"We apparated, he splinched, we stopped mid-travel, and when we crashed I landed on top of him," she finished, pulling at her shirt to show them the fresh bloodstain.
"And where were you headed?" Asked Ab.
"We-," said Hermione, tripping on her words and suddenly becoming flustered. Where would she and Malfoy be going? Together? "We-"
"We were going home," interjected Draco.
It was a stroke of luck that Hermione was facing away from the crowd because her eyebrows shot up past her hairline.
'I see," said, Ab, clearly having reservations, his eyes flickering between them, "and where is home?"
"London," answered Hermione immediately. There was no way she was going to let Malfoy dictate their direction of travel.
Ab nodded his head and offered Draco a hand, "then let's get you better so you can go home."
"Finally!" Said Draco, giving him his clean hand and letting the man haul him up. He wobbled a moment on his feet, his head throbbing at the quick change of position. Draco released his hand but Ab kept a tight grip on him.
"What did you say your name was again?" he asked, looking over Malfoy's features. Hermione held her breath.
"Septimus," replied Draco and he gave the man's hand a firm up and down motion.
"An old name indeed!" beamed Ab, who joyfully gave Draco a more enthusiastic handshake.
Hermione let out her breath. Thank goodness.
He turned to the other men, "I'll take them back boys, come find me when you've returned."
The men nodded their head and some of them waved goodbye while others didn't really pay attention to them before continuing on. Hermione quickly weighed the pros and cons of leaving with the stranger. But the pros were way too strong to consider it for long. Her stomach grumbled angrily, desperate for a good meal.
Ab started walking in the direction he came, making a motion for the two to follow.
"Septimus," he started. "Latin, I believe?"
"Meaning the seventh son," replied Draco, "hey, do you have anything for pain? I've got a splitting headache."
"I do not," replied Ab. "But my sister will, brilliant witch that she is."
"Were you surveilling the prairie?" interjected Hermione, lifting her head up to the man as they walked.
"It's not a common practice," he replied, "but recently there's been a handful of werewolf attacks in the area. When the village noticed the smoke we thought it prudent to investigate."
"Have werewolves attacked around here before?" asked Hermione.
"Not really," he replied, "but times are changing, it's best to stay alert," he said, giving her another smile and a wink.
Hermione liked him. He seemed to radiate a "Jolly-old Saint Nick" vibe that was becoming increasingly comforting.
"You both seem quite young," he said, looking them over as they walked, "shouldn't you be in school?"
"Well,-" started Hermione.
"We just graduated," interrupted Draco, "last year".
"Then a congratulation is in order," said Ab as he smiled at them. "Good time too. Rumor says Hogwarts isn't the same without Dumbledore…" Hermione's eyes shifted to Draco, but he kept his face impassive and stared ahead, giving nothing away. "And what houses do you hail from?"
"Gryffindor," Hermione piped up.
"And you Septimus?"
"Ravenclaw," grumbled Draco. He didn't need to give this man another reason to distrust him.
"Ah! A courageous and strong Gryffindor" he said opening a palm to Hermione, "together with the cleverness and wit of a Ravenclaw" he said, opening his other palm to Draco, "A very good fit."
"Is it now?" Draco sarcastically asked.
Ab looked down at him, raising his eyebrows, "I would know, my wife was in Gryffindor," he said.
"And you're the Ravenclaw?" said Hermione, a smile creeping on her face. It felt good to smile again. It felt normal.
"I am, Mademoiselle," he gave her his biggest smile yet. "Tell me Septimus, what was the hardest riddle the door to the Ravenclaw tower gave you? For me, it was-"
"Are we there yet?" Said Draco, cutting the man off and stopping. The two turned to him and he took his hand off his chest. The bleeding had increased and both the bloodied shirts he wore were drenched almost comically, like a bad Halloween costume.
"Oh my," said Ab. "Perhaps we'd better pick up the pace."
"How much longer?" Asked Hermione, eyes fixated on Draco's chest.
"We still have about twenty minutes I imagine," said Ab.
"Twenty minutes?" droned Draco. His energy was falling. He'd be a corpse before then.
Ab raised his wand, "I'll have my sister waiting for us."
He cast the Patronus charm. It took the form of a seagull before it soared away with his message.
They walked another five minutes before Draco had enough and collapsed. Rolling onto his back, he whined in pain.
"Ma-Septimus!" exclaimed Hermione as she knelt to his side.
"Ok," said Ab, holding out a finger. "Hold on, it's just over this hill. I'll go get help."
"Thank you," said Hermione as he trekked away from them.
"I'm not going to make it," whimpered Draco.
"Oh stop it, you'll be fine," she said. Sure he'd lost quite a bit of blood. And he definitely needed medical attention. But he was nowhere near as pale as he was when they'd apparated from the Weasley's.
She placed her hand back onto his and applied pressure.
"Why bother-"
"Deal with it," she said with an air of authority.
He kept quiet, looking up at her from the ground, his eyes searching hers. Was she acting out of guilt?
"I've got an idea," she said, looking up the hill.
She grabbed his other arm and pulled him into a seating position, "come on then, get up."
"What the bloody hell are you doing? I can't-"
Hermione lifted his arm and pushed her head through it, wrapping her other arm around his waist while pressing her side into his.
"Don't touch me," he spat, suddenly uncomfortable at their proximity.
"Together," she said, ignoring him and using all her strength to push them up to a stand.
"I said fuck off mudbl-"
"Draco Malfoy. You will not, and I mean will not," she said, stressing the last syllable, "use that term while I am starving, exhausted and hauling your pathetic arse up this hill."
He looked over at her heated gaze. She was determined and stubborn and she had no problem making sure he knew it. For the second time that day he was speechless. His eyes wandered over her face before landing on her pursed lips, noting they were slightly puckered in his direction.
Catching himself, he forced his eyes back up to hers and sneered.
"Well let's get on with it then."
She wasted no time and strutted forward, slowly, but steadily helping him walk up the hill. His breathing became more labored and he let out a grunt or a whine every now and again. But if this little adventure of theirs would have taught her anything, it was how to harden that bleeding heart of hers. She knew his whines and cries and could now tell what was real, what was fake and what was somewhere in between. He was somewhere in between. She could push him a bit further. He was capable.
He applied more and more of his weight onto her as they neared the top, his strength quickly disappearing, the blood now tinting the top of Harry's jeans.
Finally, they came to a full stop as they reached the mound's peak, their chests rising and falling from the exertion. Draco had broken out into a heavy sweat along the way. Not that it bothered her. It wasn't as if he smelled…yet.
Down below was a quaint little town –more of a village really, with brick houses and lumber roofs.
"Hey!" Yelled Ab from below them.
Hermione looked down. He held his tunic above his knees as he ascended the slope. In front of him was a rather plump lady, around the same age, carrying a woven basket and scurrying up the hillside to them.
"Granger…"
She looked over to Draco and found him staring at her, his gaze bizarre and calculating. And for a brief second, his eyes flickered down and focused on her lips.
Then they rolled up into his head and his body slumped out of her grip as he passed out.
Definitely not fake.