Chapter 32

"Granger," Draco said, his voice sounding tight and small. "You need to know something." Hermione turned to face him, although the air around them was so dark she wasn't sure if she was meeting his eyes. Something about the way his voice sounded made goosebumps break out along her palid skin. She felt uneasy. The Forest was flush with the night sounds of bugs and distant creatures going about their business. The moon was a ghost of an orb, floating high above the tree line, half hidden behind looming clouds, barely providing any light to the duo. This would be a wonderful night to curl up with a book, She thought quickly. Ghosts of her old life always found a way into inappropriate moments, stabbing at her heart, pushing her back into the cold water.

"Erm..yes?" She asked, pushing the painful thoughts way and tuning into the now.

"Some of the Death Eaters feel like they can...do...what ever they want to a mud-a muggleborn," He said quietly, leaning in close. "Look, I'm going to be blunt. You could be raped, or violated in some way. I know a Death Eater or two who would jump at the chance, actually. You will be beaten. They're going to separate us, and I won't be able to do anything about it. And they're going to take your wand," His voice conveyed a lot of things with that statement, but above all it sounded...almost apologetic to Hermione.

Hermione searched for her voice. Her stomach was a cold rock, and she knew he was speaking rightly.

"They won't be taking my wand," She responded. "I'm leaving it in the Forest. Better to have it here, than in their grasp. And as for the other part, I knew what risks I was taking when I elected to do this. Nothing worth while comes for free," She finished hollowly. She knew about the rapes, but they were always abstract rumors, never touching her or her friends. But now it was a very real possibility. She gulped, and straightened her robes. She couldn't let fear deter her. Do, or die. A rogue tear slid down her dirty face, and she clenched her jaw together and willed no more to fall. She wanted so badly to feel detached from what was about to happen, to view it abstractedly and not feel anything. But she was empathetic to her core, and she reminded herself that to feel so deeply separated her from the people residing in the castle now.

"Come on, then," She said, moving towards the tree line. By now they had gotten the Dementors path pattern down, and had worked out how to navigate through it, hopefully not being stopped.

Draco rose to stand next to her. "Go on and make your self look the part," He said, waving his hand at her. She swept her wand over her self and felt a tingling sensation over both her eyes as ugly bruises appeared, and fresh-looking cuts popped up along her face and exposed neck. Than she turned to the tree closest to her and said "Orchideous!" while waving her wand in a figure eight motion. A circle of sunflowers sprang up around the tree, bringing with them a soft smell of petals and fresh earth. Than she pressed her wand flat against the tree trunk and whispered "Fundamenta montium conturbata" and her wand disappeared into the bark.

"To remember where my wand is, if I return," She answered Draco's puzzled face. He nodded and reached a hand towards her. It was clear he wasn't giving up his wand. As it turned out, Draco had practiced Occlumency as much as she had. That fact soothed her.

"You ready, Granger?" He asked. He eyed her face carefully, and Hermione noticed his feature seemed to soften looking at her. His eyes, light as they were, seemed to warm to her face. He probably pities me, She realized, with a start. Some filthy mudblood, being led to her slaughter. She reached for the lump in her pocket, and it's rough shape comforted her slightly. She did have something to show for her efforts, after all. The stone! I have to hide it. She realized, but her wand was already hidden.

"Draco, let me see you wand?" She asked, and his hand made a slight jerk motion towards it before his eyes narrowed.

"Why?" He half hissed, half asked. He was looking at her snidely, as if she had asked him to drink her spit.

"I need to disguise the stone, and my wand is already in the tree," She answered slowly, as if it was obvious.

"Just give it to me and i'll disguise it," He answered, reaching one hand out to her and one hand towards his wand.

An Image flashed in her mind. Of Draco getting the stone, and abandoning her. So he could have it all to himself. Her hesitation must have been apparent, because Draco scrunched up his face and stared at her oddly.

"Granger-What?" He asked, his eyes turning sharply on her face.

She worked to push that toxic image out of her head. She didn't want that seed to bloom inside of her. She didn't want to be that level of jaded, where she second guesses every gesture, and allows paranoia to envelope her, and turn her any darker than she already felt.

She quickly pulled the stone out of her pocket and handed it to him. His fingers grazed hers as the stone passed hands and she felt a slight tingle. Oh, you sill prat. Get arsed. She inwardly chided herself. A moment later Draco handed the stone back carefully, after having transfigured it into a small black mirror compact. She pocketed it quickly, but was weary of the look on Draco's face.

"Granger," He said gruffly, staring at her through glacially cold eyes."You don't trust me."

She gulped.

"Erm...it isn't that I don't trust you," She began, faltering. She wasn't sure what to say. "It's just that..."

"Just what?" He spat out, his eyes closing into slits. "I killed some one..defending you and your friends. I rescued you from the Forest, i've followed you all over bloody England, I helped you to get the damn thing...for what? You're using me just like you accused me of doing to you," He spat harshly, every word quieter than the last, so she had to lean forward to hear them. "I'm not here to be coerced into a partnership where you don't view me as a partner," He finished, straightening his back. His last statement was dripping with arrogance, but Hermione was wondering if that arrogance wasn't a defense mechanism, to mask insecurity. His words cut her, the truth in them hammering guilt into her. Am I not supposed to be giving him a second chance? AM I not supposed to be trusting him with my life?

"No offense Malfoy, but you need to understand there is years of bad blood built up between us, and I am trying to get past that, because you have proven you're...different now...but It isn't going to happen in one night." She answered quickly, wishing this could be over, hoping he would calm down but fearing he would just escalate the situation. She didn't want to excuse away her actions, but it was true.

He was quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry," She said in response to his silence. "But you don't even trust me to touch your wand," She said, trying for the words to sounds softer than the accusations they were.

He looked at her for a long moment with his back straight and his nose turned up, but finally her nodded. Is that his version of drawing the white flag? Hermione thought unhappily. Fine, whatever, i'll take it.

Draco made a show of straightening his robes and than asked her if she was ready to go, without fully making eye contact.

"I suppose," She answered wearily, and allowed Draco to weave one of his hands into her hair-securely holding it by the roots, and his other hand to wrap both of her hands behind her back. He had her securely now, and it was very uncomfortable, but Hermione wasn't thinking about that. Her heart was beating fiercely now, as she allowed Draco to drag her to the tree line. Her mind was on the unknown they were facing.

Her thoughts were momentarily suspended as she heard a distinct sniffing sound from Draco behind her. Did he just smell my hair...? She waved the thought away. He was probably as nervous as she was, and possibly fighting back tears. This was no time to be silly. You won't find what your looking for idiot girl, She chided her self. Let this...curiosity..go, She told her self, not daring to think of the work 'attraction' in conjuncture with Draco Malfoy. But why would he..smell my hair? She felt her cheeks flush with warm blood. She couldn't help but register how strong and rough his hands were on the delicate skin of her wrists as he held her tightly. Her cheeks felt hot now, so flooded with blood. Pull yourself together you swot! She mentally fumed at her self. She called her mind to the present moment, although her cheeks remained warm.

The tree line was approaching quickly, despite how awkwardly the duo was walking, as intertwined as they were.

"Granger," Draco said stiffly, his mouth so close to Hermione's ear she could feel his breath. "If I..." He trailed off.

"If you what?" She asked, puzzled at his half statement. For some reason, she wanted him to bare his soul to her. She wanted to listen to his words and forget they were about to give them selves up to the Death Eaters. She wanted something human to happen, so she could have something to listen to, some connection. Draco was so cold, so unmoving, and she craved warmth. But how could warmth exist in this world?

He didn't respond right away, but rather looked down at her face, eyes sweeping from one side to the other.

"Nothing," He finished, turning his face back up.

"Err...what?" She demanded, planting her feet firmly on the ground. Finish that statement right now. She silently commanded.

"If I die it will be your fault," He winked at her. The wink, how ever, looked forced and his voice cracked saying it.

She didn't know what to make of that, but she didn't have time to figure it out, as Draco was moving them again, and they were passing through the tree line.

"I said stop kicking you filthy mudblood," He hissed at her, loud enough that anyone around would be able to hear what he was saying. She knew what he was going to say, yet the sharpness and vehemence in his voice still gave her chills. The grounds of Hogwarts spread out before them but the grass was no longer the luscious green it had been in the past. The grass was brown in some areas, but mostly the ground was compact dirt, with distinguishable paths made winding all around the grounds. Here and there were dead trees spread out, dying most likely from exposure to hundreds of dementors sucking the life out of the atmosphere. Hermione could make out two dark silhouettes floating about 50 yards from them-dementors no doubt, making their way to the pair. Every hair on Hermione's body was standing up.

"Let me go you foul, pitiful arsehole!" She yelled in response, thrashing her body about to give off the image of a captive, helpless witch.

From in front of them, A male voice boomed out in to the night. "You-there-Stop and put your wands up!" The loud, arrogant voice commanded. She felt Draco pull one of his hands out of her hair, but her head was twisted so that her line of vision didn't see who was talking.

She could feel the air getting colder around her, and her heart was beating like a drum in her ears.

What happened next, happened so quickly, Hermione would spend a long time after trying to piece together the exact turn of events.