She ducked low and followed him, keeping close to the stone wall and glancing off to their exposed side. But there was nothing there, contrary to what Malfoy believed. They had spent an inordinate amount of time sneaking around the grounds surrounding the manor, apparently making for the strip of woods nearby. She didn't know for certain since he wasn't inclined to tell her.
Malfoy reached the end of the wall, peeking around the corner hesitantly as he crouched in a way that struck her as amusing for some reason. As she came up behind him, mimicking his stance and keeping her head just below the top of the wall, she caught the tail end of the stream of spells he was muttering.
"It's nava-DRO-num, not dra-num." She corrected, even louder than she had intended.
"Shut up!" he hissed, still scanning the area in front of them and off to their left. He had his wand out, slowly following along his line of sight.
"You know this would be a lot easier if we just apparated." She murmured, also looking around at their innocently quiet surroundings.
"You can't apparate out of the mansion," he said, mimicking her matter-of-fact voice.
"We're not in the mansion anymore." She pointed out.
"I'm surprised Granger," he said as he leaned back slightly, evidently marginally satisfied that it was safe, "Someone like you shouldn't pass up an opportunity for some exercise."
With Malfoy's shift in posture, Hermione suddenly found her face uncomfortably close to his neck. In fact, she found her mouth and nose nearly brushing against his ear and the barely checked blond hair just above. Her backwards reaction was too sudden, however, and she lost her precarious balance as she pulled away. When Malfoy looked back to find her sprawled on her back, struggling to pull herself back up, he gave her a smirk as though she had just confirmed his comment.
"You know," Hermione huffed as she fought her way back up to her feet, angrily brushing at the hair in her eyes, "This would probably be a much better idea if I had my wand back."
"Would it now?" Malfoy said distractedly as he peeked over the stone wall.
"Yes, it would." She replied testily. "Not to mention a lot safer. If we actually do run into any big bad Death Eaters, it will be nice to have my wand."
"It didn't help you much last time," Malfoy said stiffly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped before she realized that there was nothing else he could be possibly suggesting by it. "Just give it to me, Malfoy!"
Without preamble, one of his hands reached around with her wand dangling from his fingertips. Before anything else could happen she snatched it away, already feeling much better.
"Next time I'd appreciate a please." He drawled as he inched forward slightly.
"If there is a next time I'll have a special thank you ready," she muttered.
"It would be a first from you."
Something about Malfoy's tone made her look up, but he was still looking away. She grimaced as she waited for a few seconds, but he didn't say anything else.
"So are we going to go, or are we going to stare at it all day?" she inquired, trying to sound more impatient than she actually felt.
"Yeah," Draco nodded slightly, "We make straight for the woods, no stopping. Wait a second after I start to see if anything happens. If nothing does, follow me as fast you can manage and don't stop."
"Huh," Hermione grunted, feigning indignation to cover her surprise at the briskness of his plan, "You're expecting me to cover you?"
"You should be honored," he put his back up against the wall and took a deep breath, "Are you ready?"
"Only for about the last five minutes."
"All right, go." And he was gone, leaving Hermione to scramble to the spot he'd just vacated with her wand ready.
It took her about the allotted second to remember that there was nothing to be worried about, another for her to roll her eyes, and another to steel up her own courage before she dashed off after him.
She knew it was stupid, but it was incredibly easy to imagine a dozen Death Eaters hidden with their wands aimed at them, killing curses ready. Shaking her head, she concentrated on catching up to Malfoy, whom she noted with due irritation was slowing up slightly.
"'As fast as I can manage,'" she repeated angrily as she chased after him.
He was waiting at the very edge of the trees, keeping his wand aimed back the way they'd come and pointedly not looking at her. She was fairly out of breath and had found another reason to be irritated. Malfoy was putting on a good show of breathing slowly through his nose as if he wasn't fazed.
"Oh, by the way Malfoy," she tried to copy him, but found the burning in her lungs too demanding to ignore for the sake of a childish game, "Thank you so very much for everything."
"I aim to please." Draco said as though he'd been waiting to say it all along. But the smirk that had every right to follow according to set precedent was notably absent as he turned and started off.
Kicking herself and whatever had compelled her to say that, she followed.
------------------------------------------------------------
Contrary to any preceding expectations, Hermione found traveling with Draco Malfoy to be exceedingly dull. Or at least that was how it went for the rest of that day. They continued walking—on foot—until it began to grow dark out. They clung to the trees, avoiding any open places as much as possible. And they walked.
They did not apparate, use broomsticks or even change up the pace. They simply walked. Malfoy led them on doggedly, pausing only for the shortest lunch break
Hermione'd ever had, and only at her insistence. Of course, there wasn't much to lunch to warrant a long break, but Hermione was keen on any time at all that she could spend off her feet. The walking didn't seem to bother Malfoy any.
She rarely caught glimpses of anything besides his backside, but it was obvious he wasn't exactly in a chatty mood. Much as she hated trying to initiate any kind of conversation with Malfoy, she gave into the compulsion more than once, for her sanity if nothing else. She tried a little bit of everything, even resorting to Quidditch, to his passing amusement. She avoided anything of substance of course; she didn't really want to talk to him about anything important. She just wanted something to take her thoughts off the mind numbing trudging. The scenery was amiable enough, she supposed, but it got monotonous fairly quickly.
Even the sort of surreal sight of following Malfoy, his blond hair strikingly contrasting with everything else, didn't occupy her thoughts long.
But even her best attempts at conversation, painstakingly thought out, deliberated on and tortured over, were all met with a stiff response. And that was when she was lucky. Malfoy had reverted back to the brooding air she'd observed from his library. She didn't even want to think about the library, however, as she had quite carelessly forgotten to make good on her silent promise to borrow a few of the more interesting books. She supposed she could blame it on the excitement over the fact that Malfoy was apparently going to actually let her come with him. Well, excitement probably wasn't the best word.
So, between bouts of trying to come up with another futile discussion trigger, she drifted. She dutifully followed Malfoy, but her mind rarely did the same. Hermione was altogether quite sick of thinking about Malfoy, wondering why he did this, concerned why he acted like that, worried why he had said what he had.
Despite her aimless musings, she made sure to put certain things at the bottom of her list. But through the process of elimination she began to wonder what was happening with the War, with the Order. She'd been out of touch for only a few days, but experience had taught her that a lot could happen in much shorter spans. And then she began to wonder what Harry and Ron were doing.
Malfoy was a good distraction, she had to give him that. She'd certainly had plenty to think about in the past few days and she'd managed to avoid any considerable musings about other things.
But now there was no inhibition, even though Malfoy's back seemed to leer at her knowingly. But she knew that was stupid. He couldn't see her.
And then she cried.
It didn't start right away, of course. But lingering thoughts of Harry and Ron always recalled the words that were still so fresh. The arguments would start again in her head, the defending, the rationalizing, then the pleading. But it always ended up the same way, with the accusing faces leering at what remained of her reasoning. And the horrible feeling that they were right, that she had been wrong, that she had been stupid, she had been wrong, she—
Perhaps that she could take, but it was always that same expression that drove her over the edge.
Things had been going well. She'd been waiting so long that she didn't even remember exactly when it had started. But it had happened, the things she'd been waiting for. The looks, the caresses, the words that she'd wanted so badly.
Even when he had found out about everything she'd been hopeful, naively hopeful that he would understand. Why shouldn't he? He'd finally come to understand what she'd known for so long.
But the uncertain express had hardened, his blue eyes made up before he'd even heard it all, before he'd even heard her side.
And that was the memory that did it every time, that drove her over the edge. For a long time she just walked and cried, but then the sobs came. She trailed farther behind, unable to hold back the worst.
Malfoy continued on, for all appearances oblivious. But it was ironically the sniffing of her running nose that caused him to look back.
His expression froze, clearly not seeing what he had expected. He came up short and Hermione stopped as well, frantically trying to wipe away the evidence. But when she looked again his expression had hardened in a familiar way, and he turned away without a word.
She thought about leaving then.
It would've been so easy. She could've stopped and apparated far away. Any place else would've been better in that moment. If Malfoy's retreating back was any indication, his opinion of her accompanying him hadn't changed since he'd demanded her to leave. She'd be doing both of them a favor. And what was all this amounting to? While a war was raging on she was following Malfoy around to God only knew where. Though in order to feel like she was wasting her time, she had to overlook the fact that she was no longer wanted on the side of the war that held everything she cared for.
Her chest heaved in a quaking breath. She wiped at her eyes as she hurried after Malfoy, feeling awkward even though no one was watching her.
Long before she'd caught up without so much as a curious glance from him, she'd decided why she was following Malfoy around, for all present appearances quite pointlessly. She had been making a habit of lying to herself, lately more than ever, but this was something she had to be honest about.
She was not following Malfoy because she had nowhere else to go to. That certainly made for convincing support, but that was not the real reason. The fact was Draco Malfoy needed help. Looking back, she realized how obvious it was. This was not the sniveling brat she'd known for too long. This was a lost man, with scarce few choices and even fewer friends.
No, it was not because she was nearly as alone as he was, or that she owed him more than she could probably ever repay. She was going to help Draco Malfoy, whether he wanted her to or not, because he needed it.
"So, have you heard what's going to happen with the next Quidditch World Cup?" It was pathetic, as attested to by the answering silence, but it was a start.