I now admit that on a scale of 1 to 10, I'd rate my procrastination a 10 out of 10. Here's chapter 7. Thanks to the ones who have the patience of waiting.
Same disclaimer as always, people. Please enjoy.
Ephraim
Chapter 7 – Granger and the broomstick
Hermione's POV
19th of September
Three weeks had passed since Malfoy had risen from his curse induced slumber. Three weeks which had brought them in the middle of September. Hermione regretted not being at Hogwarts, even if the once decent establishment was now overrun by death eaters and murderers. She often thought of Neville, Ginny and the rest of them who actually went back.
Meanwhile she was having her own problems. Namely the fact that there was no animosity between her and Malfoy anymore. They were actually being civil with one another. Both of them had managed more than once to stand in the same room at the same time. That creeped Hermione out. If she didn't see Malfoy as an enemy anymore, that meant that the lines between good and evil were getting blurred. The Gryffindor was afraid to admit that she had grown accustomed with Malfoy's presence. He who she could have hexed into the next week the year before was now sitting across her at the table, looking like he had wrestled with wildcats on his way to the kitchen. She had learned very early that Draco Malfoy in the morning was definitely not a Draco Malfoy at his best. His eyes were puffy from sleep and most of the mornings, he was still drowsy and stumbled down the stairs with wild hair.
Malfoy's hair itself was a story of its own. Since he was still wandless from their little visit to the death eater lair (Hermione learned later that it was in fact Malfoy manor), he had insisted that Hermione leant him her wand so he could cut his overgrown hair. That had created a small incident in which his hair had momentarily turned a beautiful magenta shade as they were fighting over said wand. Afterward after a long and heated discussion, Hermione had, under Malfoy's careful supervision, cut his hair herself with a spell the Slytherin had provided. Surprisingly enough, Hermione hadn't known it existed. Malfoy, who didn't think fondly of Hermione's talent in cutting hair, found himself contented with the results. The Gryffindor witch had trimmed his hair shorter on the sides and had left the top slightly longer so her slytherin counterpart could style it if he wanted to. Because of Malfoy's lack of styling gel, he just let the longer part of his hair down, and the strands in the front were slightly curling, falling just over his eyebrows. It was very stylish, she had decided when admiring her work, and it made him look more like a muggle teenager than a rich pureblood wizard.
So there he was, slumped in his chair staring at the flowery tablecloth with a cup of coffee he seemed to have forgotten. He still had pillow marks on his face but Hermione knew better than to point it out so early.
The two of them had been outside since Malfoy's awakening, but they had failed in the task of getting out. And it is without saying that they had tried hard. They had tried trekking across the valley but found nothing after six hours of walking, they had tried multiple times to apparate but without any positive results. Then they had walked further and found some sort of force field, keeping them inside. Their latest test was some ten days before and since then they had slacked on their efforts.
She was a tad annoyed that they had procrastinated in their task of getting out. Hermione was all for staying inside and studying before acting but she was getting restless and the lazy blond residing in the room next to hers wasn't helping the cause.
- Malfoy, she called from over her book.
No response
- Malfoy, she tried again, and then a thrice.
The boy only grumbled an unintelligible answer and soon enough Hermione's tea biscuit was flying across the dining room to collide with the Slytherin's nose, sending his head whipping to see the source of the flying food.
- Malfoy!
- What?
- Today we have to work on getting out of here.
The blond dropped his head to the table and groaned, the sound muffled by his arms and the tablecloth. Hermione almost smiled at his laziness. He was just like Harry and Ron.
Their morning was spent in comfortable silence. They had decided to roam the library until lunch, and go outside afterward until dinner. Hermione sat onto her usual couch, and Draco on the sofa nearest to the fireplace, just so he was in the direct line with the tall window on the opposite side. With the bright morning lights on him, he looked as if he was some kind of bright entity. With his nearing white hair, pale skin and matching pale eyes, Hermione dared to even think that he looked more like an angel than like the asshole he usually was. Yet even Hermione had to admit that their quarrels were getting rarer and found herself agreeing to Malfoy's ideas much more often than she realised.
She had discovered things about Malfoy she had never known about, or even remarked. When he slept he would sleep with slightly parted lips. He preferred coffee to tea. When he was bored he couldn't sit straight. Little things like that.
- Seeing something you like, Granger?
Hermione had been so engrossed in her thoughts, she hadn't realised she was staring at the Slytherin. A couple of months ago that remark would have set her cheeks on fire and she would've fought back against his snide comment but at that point the quip flew over her head and she sent Draco an unimpressed look over the boring book she was reading. She was rewarded by a trademark smirk, half smile she found slightly endearing recently, not that she'd ever admit it. She went back to her book and not even two minutes later, Draco spoke again.
- I'll be damned. Hermione, I found it!
Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. He had just called her Hermione. Why had he called her Hermione? To him she had always been Granger, or some other degrading nickname.
- Granger, did you hear me? I know why we can't apparate out of the grounds!
And just like that, the Granger was back. She walked to his side of the living room and sat on the armrest of the sofa beside him.
- What did you find out? She couldn't help but being just a little bit excited.
- Here: Of all the times Bastian and I tried to leave this house, only today did I realise that mother had sealed the property. Yesterday my sister Kitty and I were playing in the garden and I cut my finger on a tree branch. A little bit of blood splattered and it shimmered violet. And from there I could suddenly apparate. Bastian and I saw each other every day from then.
- Where is this from?
- Some journal I found in the library. From what I understand, there is some kind of force field preventing anyone from apparating outside. But it seems that spilling Malfoy blood on it could make open.
Malfoy seemed to want to say something more but he was interrupted by a fit of cough. It raked his body and again he made the wheezing sound she had grown accustomed to hearing.
It happened often and each time, Hermione didn't know how to react. Most of the time she would pretend she didn't hear it. But just the she felt compelled to do just a little more. So she hesitantly put her hand down his back, warm through his shirt, and ran soothingly her thumb against his spine until the coughs stop completely.
Neither spoke of it again but this would become a habit of Hermione. To press gently her palm against his skin until he finished painfully breathing.
Later that days they both went outside to try out Malfoy's new theory. They were supposed to meet near the end of the property, so they could walk up to the force field. Hermione arrived there maybe ten minutes before Malfoy, who was somewhere, wandering around. She was standing in a lavender coloured field, with vegetation of unknown nature growing up to mid-thigh. It never seemed to stop amazing her, the beautiful countryside unravelling before her, the hues of colours intense in the late afternoon.
She was wearing a loose powder blue cotton blouse tucked in a white embroidered maxi skirt, gaining back her countryside style. Her hair, that she hadn't combed in forever were up in a ponytail, so her vision was clear. While gazing at the horizon, Hermione was interrupted by a rustling sound.
Malfoy was making his way in the field. He wore a seemingly simple white button up shirt with long sleeves underneath suspenders and comfortable dark pants. He had, for whatever reason, a broom in his hands. Tousled hair askew by the wind, he arrived close with a smirk.
- I found a broom.
- Obviously. Why did you bring it?
- So we can fly to the field instead of walking there. Much easier that way.
Hermione snorted. There was no way in hell she was getting on a broom. Her face probably was comical to Draco because his smirk intensified, catching on that she was afraid of flying.
- Seriously? Of all the things, you are afraid of flying?
- Very funny, Malfoy. We're all afraid of something.
- Yeah, well, I just assumed that it was something scarier, you know, being a Gryffindor, and all.
- Did you just twistedly call me brave, Malfoy?
- I don't know. Did I?
- What are you afraid of, then, mister all high and mighty Slytherin prince?
- The dark lord.
There. So simple, that Draco had said it with a shrug. They shared a moment of silence before Malfoy sighed again.
- Do you think it will work?
- The force field? I don't know. Maybe.
- Are you doubting our capacities, Granger? After all you are the brightest witch of your age, or so they say.
- And you are the second best in all, Malfoy.
He smiled in earnest and she couldn't help but smile back.
- So are getting on the broom, Granger, or are you just going to stand there?
- I'm very well on the ground thank you Malfoy.
He positioned the broom and installed himself.
- Just get on the broom, Granger. I swear I won't make you fall.
Hermione considered, she really considered. She had flown a couple of times before but just for short periods of time and she never enjoyed it in the least. There stood Draco Malfoy on a broom. Negative points: She could possibly be sick and vomit, there was a chance she could fall or they wouldn't stop early enough and they would splatter on the protective force field. Positive points: Malfoy seemed in a good mood, he was a good quidditch player, agile on a broom and she had her wand with herself.
Ron and Harry had tried to get her to mount a broom a couple of times but she had never agreed, so what pushed her to get on this broom with Malfoy, she didn't know.
But she did.
She sat on the broom behind Malfoy, who guided her action with his voice while watching her movements. She nudged close to her blond schoolmate and put her arms around his waist.
- No comments, Malfoy, or I swear I will throw you off the broom.
- You wouldn't, Granger.
- Try me.
Malfoy snickered and kicked off.
Full speed.
Hermione screamed until she didn't have any breath anymore. The ground was getting smaller by the second and she buried her head in the warm back in front of her, muffling the string of curses she didn't even know she knew. She felt a strange vibration and only then did she realise that Malfoy was laughing. A full body laugh that she heard even with all the wind. She didn't dare lift her face from his spine.
- Come on Hermione! Look at the view!
There. The Hermione was back. She still didn't lift her face. She was gripping his shirt, holding on to his middle with all her might, not even thinking that it could hurt him.
A warm hand found its way to hers and she was surprised at the gentle touch. He pried her hand off his abdomen and held it. It was a strange feeling, because Hermione had always seen Malfoy as cold and his hand was warm in the strong wind. He pressed it.
- Come on! He shouted against the wind. Look at the view!
She did. And she didn't regret it. It was beautiful and colorful and so overwhelmingly bright that her eyes were crying from the wind and all the light. They were above the clouds and the sun was slowly sinking towards the colorful mountains. They were hovering so high the fields under them were just patches of color. Her skirt was flying behind the broom like a proud white flag. It was exhilarating. For the first time while flying, she felt happy. The few times she had flown before she had never enjoyed, but this time, she adored it.
She smiled, and that smile turned into a bubbling laugh. The air was cold but she felt warm. She laughed until all her problems seems to be left in the speed of the broom. Draco laughed at her giddiness, too, and he never let go of her hand. It was the first time she really understood what Harry tried to explain about the feeling of riding a broom.
They flew for a couple of minutes more before Malfoy slowed down and they slowly touched the ground. The blond turned with a smile.
- I told you you'd like it.
She made a face and smiled back before turning forward. From where they stood, it was seemingly endless. It shimmered purple if you looked close enough. Draco didn't waste any time. He took a pocket knife he had brought and pricked his thumb in earnest. He shared a look with his Gryffindor counterpart and pressed the extremity against the almost invisible wall.
For a while nothing happened and Hermione was afraid that it hadn't worked. But then, the purple shimmers turned into a pure blast of purple and some sparks flew. Hermione took a hesitant step forward and was happy to see that she could actually walk through. Malfoy made an excited face and the Gryffindor could truthfully say that this was the most emotions she ever saw him display.
- Okay, so now that it works, what do we do? She asked.
They hadn't discussed a plan of action for after their escape.
- What do you mean?
- Well, Malfoy, now that you are free, where are you going?
Malfoy didn't answer and looked like he was thinking about it.
- What are you going to do, Granger?
- Probably rejoin Harry and Ron.
Draco emitted a disapproval grunt and Hermione frowned at the sound.
- What?
- Are you really that stupid?
She narrowed her eyes. She didn't like the way this conversation was turning.
- What is it?
- You are literally going to try and get to Potty and the Weasel in hopes of trying to find horcuxes, yes, Granger, I figured that one out myself, and then try to kill the dark lord. He isn't going to be killed off so easily!
- Well at least I'm doing something! Their voices were raising then, and the sky was darkening.
- You don't even know where Potter is so why bother?!
- I can try to track him down! I'm sure I'll figure out a way to find…
- Dammit Hermione! This is suicide!
His hands were in his hair and he looked distressed, eyes wide to try to convey the emotions he had.
- Then what do you propose we do, Malfoy?
She lowered her tone and he breathed hard, fingers reaching to smooth his hair, the blood on his thumb forgotten.
- I have a house in wizarding France. We can go there and get reacquainted with all the news and what's going on around. It's far enough, but still not that far. We can get information and try to figure out what to do, and then, if we have a plan, we can try and help Potter.
That made sense. Hermione realised that her previous plan was not a plan at all, more like a dumb hope that Harry and Ron would still be around. She sighed. Malfoy was right. She met his grey eyes and somehow was able to nod.
They went back up on the broom and the ride back was silent.
Draco's POV.
Hermione was sleeping. It was dark and the house was soundless. The Yukoner Firebee Hermione had conjured was just above him and he had spent the previous hour playing with it, making it bounce on his palm. Hermione. He didn't know just exactly when she had become Hermione to him, and not Granger.
He had actually managed to get her to come with him in France. They would leave in the early morning, and they had spent the late hours packing everything they needed. Draco really didn't know what had pushed him to react like that earlier. Well, actually, he knew very well, but he didn't want to admit it to himself.
He was scared of being left alone. Hermione was the only one he had at that moment and the thought that she might leave to join Potter had left a strange pulling in his chest, something very akin to… jealousy?
A fit of cough took a hold of his body and he tried to muffle the sound with his arms. She had put her hand on his back, earlier, and it had somehow made him feel better. It was somewhat strange that the same girl he considered enemy just a year ago was now his… friend? Acquaintance? Forced roommate?
The bookworm had somehow crawled her way into Draco's heart. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked her company. He enjoyed just being in the same piece. She was, you know, challenging, but he liked it. The Firebee bounced off his paw and floated astray, gently wobbling in a bee-line. He sighed.
When had his life become so complicated?
Hermione's POV.
Hermione slept well, which was strange considering the amount of stress she was in when she awoke. She had agreed to go with Malfoy in France. Some part of her was saying that it was definitely wrong, that she should be with Harry and Ron fighting actively against Voldemort. Yet the other was telling her that this was the right thing to do, that sticking with Draco was the safest course right now. Plus, she actually wanted to see wizarding France.
Morning was just settling in and the house was already bustling with action. The two wizards kept running around, packing what they needed in the equivalent of two magically enhanced bags. It involved a whole deal of running, shouting and cursing at some things they misplaced. The kind of quarrel they had experienced the day before seemed to be forgotten and the mood had simmered back to normal. It was so mundane, Hermione thought, because they sounded like a married couple going on vacation.
- Hermione! Have you seen my shirt?! She heard Malfoy shout halfway across the house.
- Which one?!
- The grey one I wore two days ago! Have you seen it?!
- Go check outside, I think it's drying off!
- Thanks!
Hermione took care to bring the extra potions she had made in her purse. She brought all the books she deemed important under Draco's dramatic eye roll. She also took whatever little food was left of their stay in the house.
They fiddled around until it was about eight on Hermione's watch. Both of them were standing in the doorway, looking back at the house they spent months in. It was strange how accustomed to the quaint, quiet place they had grown. Draco stood beside her as they walked out and hopped on the broom. This time Hermione wore pants instead of a skirt. The ride to the wall was nice. The weather was good and the autumn sun licked at the exposed skin on Hermione's face. The blond in front of her seemed to be enjoying his ride, too, because he was humming a song that vibrated through both of their bodies. They weren't going as fast as the day before but Hermione was glad. She got to enjoy the view and all its colours. Draco had asked her if she had wanted to fly the broom but one reminder of her inapt skills at flying was enough to make her say no. She really didn't want to crash and die before she even got to France.
As soon as they arrived to the protective field, Draco repeated the process of cutting the soft flesh on his thumb and press it against the surface.
They both stepped outside it. It wasn't comforting like Hermione expected it to be. Instead it was a little scary. Until now she always had Harry or Ron around to share her adventures. But now she was going to leave with Malfoy in yet another country she hadn't visited. Draco's hand found its way to hers and she found it strangely comforting.
- Are you ready?
- If I say no, do I look less brave to you, Draco?
The Slytherin made a strange smile that Hermione interpreted as reassuring.
- Nah. You just look less Gryffindor. I told you, Slytherin green would have fitted you better… Hermione.
So they were on first name basis now. She giggled at the thought of what face Ron would do if he saw her. She was being almost friendly to Draco Malfoy and she was holding his hand. The giggling was so un-Hermione-like that Draco snorted.
- So are we ready? He asked with his trademark smirk.
Hermione looked around to see if everything was in order and if they had all they needed before nodding.
- Yes. I think.
They shared another look before the familiar tugging sensation of apparition made itself felt.
"To France we go."
A/N: There. I finished it.