Waiting for the sunset was dreadful.
Like a guillotine, it descended upon Hermione's head; only slower, steadily reminding her of the upcoming hardship - and most probable death. The guilt from stealing a thestral from a small, obviously impoverished farming family was one thing. Hoping to God they didn't get spotted and shot down midflight was another. She pushed her sweating palms downside of her pants. Now was simply a waiting game for the cover of night. If, by some miracle, they managed to steal the animal and arrive alive, the lack of an escape plan was another element to consider. Malfoy had been pretty clear – apparition wards and alarms were up around the town's parameter, and death eater patrols wandered about the outskirts at random. It was Russian roulette. And the odds weren't tilting in their favor.
"Real food," he murmured with a muted sigh, "first thing we're doing is buying real food."
Hermione couldn't help but agree, as she peeled back the plastic wrap and took yet another bite of the tasteless snack. The aftertaste was incredibly dull, leaving her mouth dry and gritty and making her wish she'd brought along a bottle of water. After the few days of being spoiled by Nora's cooking, going back to wrapped power bars was just…awful.
Her eyes swept up above her and a bead of sweat crawled its way down from her forehead to her temple, and she looked around the shack for the hundredth time that day.
Old metal pitchforks hung off bent, rusty nails. Horseshoe hammers laid uneven on questionably sturdy shelves. Other essential pieces of equipment required to handle large beasts hung off rickety wooden walls. One of the ledges in particular held numerous small metal buckets of rotting meat; the rancid smell making her audibly gag a few times when they'd first entered the enclosure. It also hadn't taken long for Hermione to cast her newly learned insectum repello; the flies needed to be kept at bay.
Finding a good hiding place had been challenging. Malfoy's eye had spotted it from a good distance away, and they'd run from house to house, dodging onlookers, looking like something straight out of an old cartoon. The targeted property lacked fencing and its openness made it difficult for them to sneak onto it at the height of day. Her disillusionment charm did the trick – and quickly exhausted her they'd made their way across the empty pasture to a shed.
The crumbling structure had no windows. It stood in the middle of the gargantuan field, behind the farmer's house, and was surrounded by humorously high piles of hay and straw.
Hermione wondered why. The thestral's didn't need it.
Speaking of, she could hear the creatures hovering around the shack. They'd been rather unbothered by their arrival, curiously walking towards them as Malfoy ripped open the rickety wooden door. Then they sauntered around like it never happened.
For once in her life, Hermione was grateful for being overlooked. They'd succeeded at sneaking in unnoticed.
That was six hours ago.
Six long, hot, cramped hours, just sitting there in the narrow, confined shed, both of them taking turns dozing off while the other kept watch. But the building was so narrow, there was barely enough space for the farmer to store his tools, let alone room to fit and hide two young adults. Now, both miserable and wide awake, they quietly ate the snack Hermione provided.
The wood of the floor they'd ungracefully managed to sit on was stained, cracked, and downright filthy. It hadn't looked like it'd been swept since its construction. Draco sighed, tailbone sore from the amount of time he sat confined in the same position. Using the wall behind him for support, he pulled his outstretched leg inwards, firmly planting his foot on the ground beside Hermione's thigh. His other leg, previously bent, uncoiled, and lifted, pushing outwards until his heel rooted itself against the wall by her head. The position took the form of an arch, the distance preventing the limb from stretching out completely.
Overall it was a rather inelegant predicament; his thighs spread open to accommodate her foot, his lifted leg bent to accommodate the lack of space. He adjusted his position, shoe grinding against the wood of the shed as it slid a little further from her head.
No need to be that close.
Mirroring him, Hermione straightened her leg, letting it fall beside his newly bent one, and pushed her heel out, leg just short enough to rest on the wall not far from his elbow. Her other leg, previously extended, folded in, placing itself in the exact spot between his legs the other used to be. She carefully made sure to avoid brushing his groin as she did.
It was a never-ending, so very awkward dance neither of them acknowledged.
But it was the only way they both fit into the cramped space at once.
At least they'd managed to figure out the shifting arrangement without much discussion. It'd become more of a silent agreement really. When someone needed to move, the other moved with them.
He'd snuggly rolled up his sleeves at some point. The bright sunshine emanating from the cracks in the wall now faded into a warm glow that cast itself onto his open forearms. His forehead gleamed with moisture, and he brought a hand up to wipe at it. With the increased weight, the tips of his damp hair repositioned themselves to hang lower on his face, bangs practically drooping over his eyes.
Hermione could feel her own perspiration pooling as well; she'd long ago given up on trying to hide the sweat marks.
"You know," he said, a gentle thump emanating throughout the shack as he dropped his head against the wall behind him, "this kind of reminds me of the broom closets at school."
Languidly, she brought her hands up to push the sweat away from her temples.
What?
She slicked her hands back down her disgustingly soaked mane.
It was difficult to think straight in the humidity.
Untangling her fingers, she let them fall to rest at the base of her neck and tilted her chin to the ceiling, letting her eyes flutter closed.
"What about this," she asked exhaustedly, "reminds you of Hogwarts?"
His lip upturned a little and he partially bent his head forward in her direction.
"You know. Small, tight spaces that warm up quickly," he smirked, giving her a lazy wink, "makes you sweat."
Her eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her face back down to his level, sluggishly opening her eyes and lazily scanning his features.
He waited.
She didn't react.
"Sex Granger."
Her eyes instantly rolled, lips twisting, and the heavyweight of her head found itself planting against her hand, propped up on her knee. "Of course. Why did I even ask?"
"What? Never had a go in a closet before?"
"I didn't have time for foolery or games," she said, almost bitterly, "I had better things to attend to-"
"Better than sex?"
"Like studies-"
"I heard you let on Cormac McLaggen. Did you choose your studies over his sex?"
Her eyebrows scrunched. Where did that come from?
"How do you mean?"
"Rumour has it Hermione Granger is actually quite the tease-"
Urgh. She shook her head. "No. I'm most definitely not-"
An eyebrow raised, and he tilted his head to the side. "That's not what I heard. I heard you invited him to Slughorn's Christmas party, then proceeded to ignore him all night. Then I straight out saw you ghost him under the mistletoe. Lad looked pretty dejected. I dare say you crushed his little beating heart-"
She bent forward, "well since you were snooping long enough to watch it happen, you'd have seen how uncomfortable I was. I literally had to hide from him after that. He was arrogant and unpleasant – and excessively handsy."
He gave a shrug. "So why invite him then?"
Her eyes darted up in annoyance before turning back down to the ground in front of her.
She didn't really want to tell him, but it slipped out. "I thought he would annoy Ron the most."
He laughed, "and you don't have time for games and foolery."
"Can we drop it? He was awful and selfish and he had no real interest in me whatsoever," she finished.
Draco gave a knowing smirk, eyes-rolling. "Merlin. All women are the same. Even nerdy bookworms-"
"Drop it."
"Don't fuss, Granger, you aren't the only gal known to play ball." She frowned at him. "Some women love it. Thrive on the drama even," he continued, lifting a curved brow. "And eventually they end up in a broom closet," he smirked, "with me." She gave him a look. "It was all very bewitching really," he continued, "had I known you weren't much different I might've saved you from the repulsive Cormac. Maybe we would've found ourselves in the nearest potion storage-"
"Drop it," she said again, this time a little stronger. She didn't appreciate him purposely trying to make her uncomfortable. And she absolutely loathed that he was succeeding in doing it.
He gave a toothy grin. It was exactly what he wanted. It was a game he could win.
"I think it might've been Pansy's favorite sport, playing ball," he ignored, angling his head to look down his nose at her. "Maybe I could've convinced her to join us."
"You're disgusting," she stated matter-of-factly, looking away from him. The cabin's heat really seemed to bear down on her now.
He gave an amused huff.
Still avoiding his gaze, her eyes drifted to the planks of wood above his head.
Urgh. Wood…
"Look at that," he said, leaning forward and suddenly excited. He pushed his hands against the floor and straightening up a bit. "She's bothered about it."
"No!" She snapped, eyes flashing back to his. "I most certainly am n-"
"Does sex disturb you, Granger?"
"Of course not. Why would you-"
"Is it the threesome? Is it thrilling you? I bet it is-"
"Ew. NO."
"Is it hearing about sex that excites you then?"
"No-"
"Enlighten me, Granger," he said, lips twisting wickedly as he basked in her humiliation. "What's the significance of the physiological response of a flushing, young woman,-" her knee flung out, heel giving him a semi-violent strike to the abdomen, "-ow!-" He laughed, but continued, "-in reaction to exposure to mature content?" He finished with a full-blown smile, arms coming up to protect himself against her second kick.
"Stop it! It's hot in here." She defended, arm coming out to whack his foot near her head. But his laugh was infectious and she couldn't help but smile a bit with him.
He looked at her then, laugh dying down, his features changing; lips falling from a wide and delighted smile to more of a broad grin.
"Not as nearly as it could be."
She stared at him a moment and became very aware when, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, his knee twitched, lightly brushing up against her outstretched leg.
Her gaze fell to it. Then to his mouth.
His lips lightly parted as he continued watching her.
The air was hot, she was exhausted, and now goddammit she was turned on too.
His smile widened in the smallest way.
He knew.
She cleared her throat, eyes snapping back to his, getting his attention. "I thought a house-elf was more appealing."
Amusement slipped from his face. He said nothing.
Then his eyes scanned the length of her, and suddenly they were back between the hallway and the bathroom door – this time her breasts were well hidden.
Didn't seem like he noticed though.
When his eyes finally fell back on hers, there was no trace of jest or mockery.
"I misspoke."
Heat exhaustion, she thought. That was the only explanation for her increased heart rate.
Something clenched in her abdomen and she swallowed what felt like the remains of the snack bar, gritty like sandpaper, squeezing and scratching its way down her throat.
He glanced down, chuckling softly, and brought his hands up to gently rub his thumb into the palm of his hand.
"I'm kidding, of course."
Her heart fell.
And suddenly she was angry.
Mostly at herself, for getting flustered.
He was charming.
He knew it. She knew it. And she was offended by it.
Because that's all it was. Charm.
And just like that, she'd lost his game.
A thestral neighed somewhere outside, and the cabin became quiet once more.
Hermione turned her head to the side, and she made a show of observing a lone nail sticking out from a wooden plank.
The bastard had strung her along for the ride and then threw her off the wagon.
With a heavy heart, she realized it was beginning to be extremely difficult to continue rejecting the notion that she was attracted to him. Not him as a person – no, of course not. But him as a sexual object? She could do. If he could sexualize her, without seeing her as a person, there was no reason she couldn't do the same in return. She flicked a pebble near her hand. He was young, athletic, held handsome features. It was natural for her to feel physically attracted.
She frowned.
No, that's ok, she thought. It held no reflection in her taste in men. His preference for intimidation and his bigotry made it all but impossible to see anything more than that.
She side glanced back to him. But he was incredibly perceptive, and she hated to admit it but as clever as she was, he was quicker in wit. And as much as that aggravated her…it was also impressive.
He'd barely moved from his position, a hand now holding his arm, thumb rubbing gently at the seared skin of the exposed dark mark, eyes transfixed upon it.
He wasn't smiling. Wasn't' longing. Wasn't curious.
He just seemed…thoughtful.
Subtly, she lifted the cloth of her own forearm, exposing the MUDBLOOD disfigurement imprinted there.
It hadn't changed.
Still, the dead-colored scar that served as a constant reminder of people's hatred of her…of his prejudice.
It occurred to her then that she still had the vial Edna made for her. Without much more consideration, she reached for her beaded bag and pushed open the sack.
"Granger," whispered Malfoy, her arm diving deep. "I think someone's coming."
She froze, tilting her ear.
Heavy footsteps were indeed getting louder, and coming straight for them.
"Get up!" She panicked, pushing herself forward and almost smashing into his head, arm reaching out to steady herself on the wall behind him as her legs struggled to steady her. His leg quickly fell from its spot on the wall and he pushed off the ground, one hand braced against the wall behind him for support, the other swiftly grabbing her arm to preserve his stability.
"Give me a wand!" He hissed.
"No! Get behind me!" she hissed right back, quickly pulling her wand out and stretching her arm out as far as it could go, its tip touching the wobbly door. He struggled to move, and her head whipped back over her shoulder in a surprised glare when she felt his hands gripping her hips.
She forgot about the approaching stranger. Just for a moment.
He quickly pushed her forward as he squeezed one leg behind her, quietly hissing as he bumped into a shelf.
The footsteps paused right before the door.
Hermione stopped breathing.
It was the farmer. Or a death eater. Or a community member.
"Oh, God." She breathed.
What if it was Ab? Or Nora or Edna? They'd just spent the morning insisting they had to go. She pleaded with Edna – insisting they hadn't been suspicious in character. What would happen if they found them now? Cramped in a shed, wand at the ready?
The barn door swiftly opened, Malfoy's gripped tightened on her waist, a few startled neigh's, and the sound of retreating hoof prints echoed in her ears.
A wrinkly old man stood before them.
He had one eyelid drooping lower than the other, and he sported sagging cheeks that looked overly thin and used. He stood there a moment, looking very muggle-like in his denim overalls, shocked, and appearing almost as afraid as Hermione did.
"Who are you?" he asked, shaking voice finally finding his place, and the lightest of an American southern drawl audibly apparent.
He also held no wand. Instead, a large metal bucket laid not far behind him, sporting enough fresh raw meat to feed the small herd. A nearby thestral trotted to the bucket, sniffed the food and huffed, before disappointingly walking away.
"Well?" asked the old man, a little braver now.
Hermione cracked.
"I'm so sorry! We're hiding from some really bad people. We were going to borrow one of your thestrals to get to our destination without being tracked." She sucked in a breath of fresh air. "We were going to send it right back, I swear."
The man took a step back.
"I'm…I'm so sorry." She pressed on. "Honestly, we really need a ride, and in no other world would I ever have done anything like this-"
The elderly man's eyes shifted between her and Malfoy as she ranted. Then his eyes came to rest on her exposed arm.
His gaze softened and he sharply cut off her babbling with a shake of his head. "Well geez folks, you didn't need to hide in the shed. It's not sanitary in there."
Hermione stopped talking, completely thrown off.
He raised a hand and waved them out. "Come on, get out, I gotta feed the dam beasts."
Her eyes slowly shifted to find Draco's equally flabbergasted expression behind her.
"Come on, come on, I don't got all day."
Hermione took a robotic step to the ground, awkwardly lowering her wand.
"Oh. Ya. You two be them kids Nora had at her place this morning then eh?" Said the old man, sounding rather full of himself.
"How'd you know?" asked Draco, stepping out from behind her.
"Saw ya both at the morning market. We don't often get visitors around here. Hard to miss." He said, entering the shed and pulling the smaller, raunchier meat buckets from their place on the shelves.
Hermione shrugged at Draco's pointed look.
"Well," he continued, gripping a bucket and throwing its contents out as far as it could before it hit the ground. "I dun have a problem with you borrowing old Gretchen." He took a step back into the shed to grab the next bucket. "She knows her way home."
Hermione felt a finger brush against her arm, and she looked back at Draco who nodded to a large, strong-looking thestral that had made its way to the food and was now gobbling the old pieces down like it was a gourmet buffet.
The farmer came out and tossed the second bucket. "You don't mind sharing a mare do ya?"
"I…that'd be lovely," said Hermione.
"Gretchen!" the old man hollered.
One of the last horses to come to eat – a sickly, tall, boney thestral that could barely keep her head up, slowly made her way to the farmer.
Hermione's face fell as the farmer hand-fed her.
"She was one of my best. I'm convinced old age is just one, giant dark curse cast upon us all." He said, giving her a pat on the head as she huffed.
"Can she even fly?" deadpanned Draco.
"Don't you worry about that. She holds her own. Where you kids flying to?"
"Diagon alley," said Hermione.
The old man looked between the two of them for a moment. "Uh-huh." He then walked over to his new bucket and started filling the smaller ones with the fresh meat. "Heard it's not what it used to be."
"We heard that too." She said rather softly.
"Well, you still have about an hour of sunlight. I imagine you wanna be travellin' at night. I'll get Gretchen ready for you."
"Thank you so much." Said Hermione, reaching into her bag, "I don't have much to give you."
"Nah, don't worry your pretty head about it." He waved her off. "Old Gretch could use a bit of a stretch."
Draco stepped forward. Eyes narrowing. "Why would you let two random strangers, who you just found hiding in your shed ride off with one of your thestrals. You have no idea who we are. We could butcher her and sell her bones to local potion shops for fast cash."
Hermione's eyes bulged to a new degree. "Malfoy!"
He glared at the old man. "Something's off," he said in response to her.
"Malfoy huh?"
Oh crap.
Hermione's eyes shifted from Draco back to the farmer.
But the old man gave a little laugh. "Speaking of fast cash, you'd better watch yourself boy."
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Draco, eyebrows furrowing.
"Well, if you're going to Diagon Alley, you'll figure it out fast enough. I recommend you kids keep low."
"Why? What's waiting for us in Diagon Alley?" asked Hermione, running her thumb along the smooth wood of her wand.
"Dunno." He said, closing the shed. "I reckon it won't be a welcoming party."
Hermione quickly thought over the plan once more and remembered the well she saw as they'd made their way to the shed earlier that day.
"Do you have a well we can use?" She'd almost forgotten. "I need to change his hair color. And I need some water to do it."
"Well, you can use the one closer to the house." Said the old man. "Not sure how long you need, but I reckon Gretchen will be good to go by the time you come back."
Hermine gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile. "Thank you. Again."
"Uh-huh." He answered, turning his back to them and limping away to the house with the bucket. "Come'on Gretch." The sad-looking thestral followed him at a leisurely pace.
"New plan. We steal that thestral instead and get the hell out of here," said Draco, pointing his thumb to the stronger horse.
"No! We can't. Not after we've been handed a pass on a silver platter."
"I don't trust him."
"You also didn't trust Ab, or Nora, or Edna-"
"And I still don't." He said, eyes shifting to the house. "We'll be sitting ducks on that tired beast."
Well, he wasn't wrong about that.
"Still…I can't in good faith abuse this village's compassion and generosity. Think about it. He's helping us because he saw us with Ab and Nora this morning, who housed us for a few days. Merlin knows the word got around in a small village like this one. This is probably the most exciting thing that's happened to him in decades. He just wants to be a part of it."
"He has no idea what it is," he sneered.
"Neither do we, really," she countered, shrugging a shoulder.
He shoved his hands in his pocket and sighed, looking back at the stallion. "Whatever Granger, you're the boss. We die it's on you."
She followed his eyesight to the proud animal. "Alright, let's go," she nodded, turning, and starting for the well. She reached into her bag as she walked. He followed, unimpressed.
"So this should last about 2 weeks before your natural blond will start to poke through," she said after a while, pulling out the hair dye and giving it a quick wave for him to see behind her.
When she reached the funnel of old stone, she took no time hoisting up the rope.
"You know," he said, coming up close behind her, "a little push and most of my problems go away, just like that."
She smirked, pulling the rope a little harder, happy the rising bucket indeed had water sloshing around in it.
"I know, it's rather odd you didn't take your shot."
The corners of his lips upturned. Then he leaned forward, mouth getting dangerously close to her ear. "Don't tempt me."
"Ok, I won't." In one swift motion, she twisted around, lifting the bucket as high as she could and throwing its contents at him.
His speedy backstep wasn't enough to save him. He glared at her, giving his newly soppy arms a sharp shake, the crown of his head having been completely missed.
She shot him an innocent smile.
1-1.