Most never knew about the two paths diverging from Hagrid's hut. The one most taken led the person straight over the hill with few switchbacks. It was a quick walk, but one that left its user winded. There other was a tangled mess of tree branches and vine that had overgrown its path, only mentioned in chapter buried deep inside A Hogwart's History. The hilly nature of the path, with its knotted tree roots going across, had fewer and fewer visitors as the years went on. At least that's what Hermione could tell from the sight of it.
It gave her a great deal of solitude on the days of boisterous classmates. Few days of the year she made use of this path without notice from anyone. It gave her time to ponder and question nothing and everything.
The recent light dusting of snow crunched underneath her boots as she kept the focus of her movements. It gave her mind a trick, with it being deeper in one spot and barely there in another. Gingerly with each step, she placed one foot in front of the other, testing the surface before committing.
She repeated this process agonisingly slow, but didn't worry at her pace. She had no one waiting for her, anyway. Her second foot dragged itself across the snow to meet the other, but the combination of the imbalance of pressure and a pesky tree root underneath caused her to slip forward.
It happened so fast, she couldn't process the events before she felt her body weight slamming down onto the ground, her shoulder taking most of the impact. She ground her teeth together, breathing in sharply. She felt up her arm, wincing as the pain radiated down. A rock, she thought. She rolled herself onto her back, taking in the feeling of the ice-cold wetness below soaking through her coat and into her clothes. A small involuntary shiver came out as the chill met her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut.
It was the feeling of someone's presence standing over her that alerted her. It was a waiting game to see if this was the paranoia or truth washing over her. She was cautious to move, as the thought of who else used this path made her blood run cold. Her gut screamed ridicule at herself for going off in this kind of climate. She peaked one eye open, ready to jump to a fight, but she met with Draco Malfoy's grey eyes. Oh, for fuck's sake.
"Piss off, Malfoy," she mumbled as she closed it back. Heat bubbled up from her chest, raising to her cheeks as it prickled across. I just want to be alone. Please go away.
The feeling of someone staring at her remained, though. She cursed everything in this life and the next that Malfoy could not be bothered to walk away already.
Perhaps if she continued to ignore his presence, he would tire quickly. A small shove of a foot nudged itself against her side. Piss. Off. The foot kicked harder this time, landing right on the edge of her thighs. I hope you fall into the ravine.
"Are you going to take my help or not?" His voice drawled on, sounding annoyed, as if he had been standing there for longer than three seconds.
Her eyes shot open, and a strangled sound of annoyance erupted from her. Quickly, she propped herself up on her elbows and stared up at him. His hand was indeed held out to her. It was mere centimetres away from her face. Had she missed it earlier? She couldn't have been sure. She weighed the option of throwing herself back into the snow and laying there until she developed hypothermia.
His eyes continued to linger upon her. He was waiting far more patiently than she'd seen him act before. With a reach of her hand, she placed it in his grip. A suspicious feeling festered deep in her gut, leaving her questioning if Malfoy was only using this opportunity to push her down the snowy, overgrown hill.
The wool glove was softer than she imagined. It reminded her of the sweaters Mrs Weasley made. These looked far too intricate to be something handmade out of love, she decided. The idea of Narcissa Malfoy knitting the pair was comical. Who would've taught her? Would she pick out her wool out or rather have it chosen by a designer? If she knitted the gloves, did she gift Malfoy a matching hat and scarf too? The questions swam around her head.
The grip on her hand tightened as he pulled her off the ground. As she came back to her previous perpendicular position, a second hand took hold of her other arm, helping to steady her on the ground as her feet slide slightly on an ice patch.
"Thanks." She whispered, stepping out of his grip.
She turned around to start the trek back to the castle. It was barely half a step when another twisted root found its way under her. The sensation of falling she just became all too well of knowing poured over her. She tensed herself up and braced for the ground, but the impact never came.
Instead, those same two hands behind her wrapped themselves in her coat. She was being hoisted back up by the shoulders of her scratchy wool coat.
She wanted to start again. Really, she was determined to do it, but Malfoy didn't give her a chance. He shoved himself beside her, sliding his hand into the space between her arm and side. A familiar grip tightened itself against the inside of her arm. It became a shuffle of pushing and pulling between them. Malfoy would walk three paces ahead whilst Hermione dragged her feet. Sometimes he would tug on her to get her up to pace, sometimes he would stop and let her fall back into step. It became a wordless game to her.
He muttered under his breath, "Who even goes up this way anymore? It's a miracle you haven't slid down to the ravine."
"It's a miracle I haven't shoved you myself." She snarled back at him.
This time he stopped, slowly turning to look at her. It was the feeling of daggers being stared into her that clued her into the idea he wasn't expecting the snark. She urged herself to not meet the gaze.
She allowed herself to continue to be pulled forward, decidedly it was the better option than crawling up.
They made it a quarter way up before he spoke up again. "For someone so brilliant, going out with a hat or gloves is incredibly stupid."
"I hadn't realised it was going to be snowing." She tried her best to suppress the eye roll she felt coming on.
"Very dimwitted of you."
Her feet became planted firmly into the ground. Planted just enough, she could've been considered a permanent fixture of the grounds. The sudden change of movement jerked Malfoy to a stop, almost letting him slip, but he caught himself within seconds. He shook the loose hair out of his face as he stood himself up a little straighter. She ripped her arm away from his grip. He didn't hesitate to let her. She recognised this must've been ingrained in him from a young age.
Before she could say anything, the ground below began slipping away from her. With the not unfounded fear of falling again, Hermione reached out for anything stable to hold on to. And that was Malfoy. Her fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist as she held on tight to able to stay upright.
He let out a loud hiss at the skin-to-skin contact. In one swift motion, he rolled the wrists away from her hands, forcing the contact to be broken, and brought them back towards himself. It was the inkling of disappointment brewed in her chest that gave a surprise she hadn't been expecting, but it was quickly replaced with the feeling of shame. Of course. He would never forget what I am. She stared at his hands. She told herself to mask the hurt and embarrassment, stuff it deep inside once again. She should've known better than to allow herself to be caught in this sort of mess.
It was when his hands made the move of removing his wool gloves, pulling one off with his teeth before plucking the other off, she stopped her spiralling. He shoved them into her still-open hands that left her blinking back a thin veil of tears.
"Go on. Put them on. You'll freeze to death before you get up the hill." He admonished. He didn't move his gaze from her until she had done as he said. The wool was softer than she imagined. The hot warmth lingered on the inside as she slide in. Stretching her fingers out, she admired the oversized feeling. It was nice.
He repositioned himself back to dragging her up the hill. Why is he doing this? Is he doing this, or have I fallen and damaged my head? This is out of character. There's an ulterior motive, I'm sure. Why is he being nice? The questions swam around in her as they continued up the hill. She came close to asking, but each time she desperately refused to grant its exit. It wasn't much use. She blurted out, "What is this? Is this a trick?"
"No."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't care."
The rest of the way to the top was left in silence. It was not comfortable or awkward. It just was. It was a seemingly unusual feat for the two of them. As they approached the top, she felt his hand slowly slip away from the inside crease of her arm. He hovered slightly behind her. Every so often she could feel the faint brush of his hand against her arm, letting her know he was there if she fell.
It was when they reached the top Hermione tried returning the gloves to Malfoy, but when she turned to face him, he was already stalking off in the distance. She wanted to call out, but the courtyard in front of them was filling with students. The gesture of helping her up the hill, borrowed gloves, and a kind interaction left her wondering if this was a plan for something far more sinister. Did he not want the gloves back because of a Mudblood touch?
She wanted to follow the blonde head as he moved through the crowd, but he was much swifter on a level surface. She lost him before she truly had eyes on him.
—
It was silly for her to carry the gloves around. They stayed roughly bunched in the pockets of her coat. Initially, it was for when she inevitably saw him again, but he dodged her like an illness spreading rapidly. The first instinct was to throw them out, but the thought of this gave her guilt. What if they were really handmade?
Her palm dragged across the jagged bumps and crevices of the stone wall, the texture tickled, sending chills down her spine. She headed for the library after dinner. It would be decently cleared out, leaving her to the silence and peace she craved. She hummed a tune quietly and listened to it echo lightly off the empty corridor walls back to her.
Every once in a while her fingers would grace against the velvet curtains hung against the wall. Sometimes the curtain would push itself in, letting her know of the hidden alcove behind. It was the slight tug on the fabric of her robes as her hand passed over one of these that scared her. The tug pulled her into the opening and against an inner wall. As she opened her mouth to scream, a hurried shush stopped her. Malfoy was standing opposite of her with one slender finger pressed against his lips.
She pushed his grip off her before trying to slip out, but his all too familiar grip pulled her back in. It was a moment of struggle as she tried freeing herself, but Malfoy clenched her shoulders to keep her from moving.
"What are you doing?" She whispered harshly to him. She tried blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face, but it fell right back in front of her eye. Her robes were bunched up around her from the struggle. She imagined she looked just as bewildered as she felt.
"I want my gloves back." He dropped his grip, stepping back to give her a small shrug. With a step back, she could barely make the edge of his lips pulling into a smirk in the darkness.
She rolled her eyes. It was like he had avoided her for the last two weeks and now he wanted them? "Well, I don't have them."
"Yes, you do. I've seen them." He said.
"I — They're in my coat. I don't have them on me now."
"Well, go get them."
She scrunched her nose up as she thought about it. The library was due to close soon and if she were to go back to the commons, she'd never make it in time. It's hard enough getting away from everyone in the evenings as it is. Coming back only to leave seconds later would never work.
"No. I need to go to the library before it closes." She told him.
"Need to or want to?" The outline of his smirk widened a considerable amount.
"What are you doing lurking in the dark, anyway? Stalking me?" She glared at him, wondering if he could make it out in the almost pitch black.
They stared off at each other, neither of them refusing to give in. She moved for the curtain, ready to leave and get on with her night. His hand shot out, curling his fingers around her wrist as he pulled her towards him. She held in her breath.
"Meet me at the astronomy tower." He whispered. "After your library visit, of course."
She searched for a tell in his face that would give away the secret answer, but found nothing; a consequence of knowing nothing about Malfoy. The silence ticked on as Hermione contemplated the offer. The voice inside her head was screaming to not do it, to be smart. The feeling in her gut was asking her why not.
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, "Why should I?"
"Prefects are sparse tonight. Maybe it'll be fun." He leaned in closer to her. His features became more prominent and his smirk had faded into a grin.
She refused to look away, one eyebrow raised, and she responded with a scoff. He crossed past her, brushing against her shoulder. She tensed from the slight pain as he pressed against a bruise. She kept her head straight, but allowed her eyes to follow him. With a quick yank of the red velvet, Malfoy exited the alcove.
She let out a breath before following him out. A quick glance around the hall showed it was empty, and she started back tracking towards the Gryffindor common room.
—-
She crept through the halls, walking as silently as she could. She mimicked the earlier position of dragging her body against the stone walls, tracing the route in her mind. The corridors dragged on endlessly as she winded up the castle. He was right when he said the halls would be sparse. She hadn't yet seen one person after she passed the main staircase, but still she kept towards the more quiet way. She was left her to thoughts that seemed to keep drifting back to him these days.
The round oak door leading to the entrance of the tower scrapped against the concrete flooring as Hermione pushed it open. The room was poorly lit by a few candles floating in the windows. The silence was loud enough she could hear her heart beating. She pushed the door back to its original position, listening for the clank of the latch before continuing towards the stairs. A voice in the back of her mind screamed, this was a setup. Screaming this would end in embarrassment or trouble, but she was too curious to not go.
She counted the 73 steps up and the observation level was empty. She pulled a spare chair from the corner into the moonlight pouring in from the open balcony. The chair's back brushed against the railing as she plopped herself down. So the waiting began.
It wasn't a long wait before she heard the echoing steps of someone below her. She straightened her back, mentally preparing for whatever to come next. Her two thoughts fought for control over her mind. Was this a foe meeting or something else? Malfoy appeared in the door. He was changed from his uniform into slacks and a black tee, no cloak. Very muggle of him, she thought. Heat crept up the back of her neck as she stared down at her skirt she'd been wearing all day. It felt like she missed a cue here.
So she did what she knew best. She stood up, brushing off the silly feeling, and approached him with the gloves in hand. "Here."
He stared at them, making no move towards taking them.
She shook them a little harder at him, urging for his attention. She paid no mind to his stare and kept her eyes on the object in hand. When he still refused to take them, she allowed them to fall out of her hand and onto the stone. Still, he made no move for them. She finally gave into the urge and looked up at him. His hands were in his pockets with a relaxed look as he stared back.
"Okay, whatever." She mumbled, turning back to the stairs. There were only twenty short steps to freedom. She made it one before he spoke up.
"Did you know space is completely silent?" He asked.
She paused, only to stop as she remembered she needed wanted to go. "Some say it's not." She wasn't sure what possessed to respond. She blamed it on him. He had this drawing effect on people.
"Are you sure?" A puzzled look came across his face.
"I am. It's so quiet up there they can hear your ego bouncing off from galaxy to galaxy, far and wide in the whole universe." She cracked a small smirk. As Malfoy's eyes flashed from surprise to annoyance, she pulled in her lips, biting down on one.
He let a sly smile show through. "If they can hear that, then they certainly are being bombarded with your annoying thoughts and questions."
She rolled her eyes. She couldn't even be mad at the statement based on how correct he was. He turned back to go out on the balcony. He leaned over with his arms resting against the railing. The hair on the back of his head looked like a slight mess, almost like he was sleeping right before this. Her eyes dropped, and she followed the path back to where the gloves were still laying.
"Here." She walked them over in one hand, once again handing them out to him. This time, he took them. They stood there in silence. She watched the moon with a few side glances of Malfoy while he seemed to trace constellations in the sky. "How did you know there would be no prefects tonight?"
"I bribed them." He said it so nonchalant as if it wasn't unheard of. She wasn't sure why she was shocked.
"Did you do that before or after you asked me to come up here?" She asked.
"Before, of course."
"A little presumptuous, don't you think? What if I didn't come?"
"I had a feeling you were too nosey to say no." He shrugged with a glance over to her. He had another small cocky grin plastered on his face.
"And you're being too nice, why?" She continued to press on.
He sighed. "It's exhausting being 'me' all the time."
"So go be a different you to someone else." She was becoming even more suspicious of his doings. He was not someone to do this, to suddenly change.
"It's nice to have a friend; a different friend from everyone else. You seemed nice enough." He tuned to face her slightly better. The grin had been wiped away, and a small crack showed a potential side to Malfoy.
She snarked back at him, "Well, we're not friends."
She turned on her heel and headed for the door. He didn't call, didn't chase, didn't care, so she made her way down the tower in complete silence, only the clicks of the shoes echoing off the walls. She skirted around the corridors, wondering if he was telling the truth about the prefects. By the time she slipped through the common room, the clock showed it just after 1 am. Time really got away from her.
—
The first week after the astronomy tower, Hermione couldn't help but notice Malfoy around every corner. It was a coincidence they shared such a similar schedule, or he was stalking her. She wasn't sure yet. She sat at her usual table in the library, a back corner spot just meters away from the restriction section. The perfect spot to avoid the prying eyes of Mrs Pince. It's when the sound of shuffling feet from the aisles across her caught her attention. Malfoy was wandering the aisles, clearly trying to look as if he was pondering something deep as he stared at his feet.
"Following me?" She walked over, staring through an empty section of the other side of the bookshelf.
Malfoy visibly jumped, startled at her sudden appearance. He looked behind, towards her table, and back to her eyes. She watched as his mouth opened and closed multiple times. It was clear he was struggling to find a defence.
"It's the only quiet place these days." He muttered.
"Make it less noticeable and maybe you'll get away with it." Hermione whispered back to him before retreating to her spot. She hurriedly shoved her items back into her bag and took off without waiting so much as a response from him. Not that she assumed he would, anyway.
It was the next week that when she arrived at the table, she found a charmed note stuck to it. It was a struggle to open, but in tiny scribbles was a message from Malfoy asking for meeting at the tower. There was no harm in indulging this. It was simply platonic and a laugh.
—-
Second meeting
—
This routine tended to repeat itself. They took turn leaving charmed notes in spots they saw the other frequency. It became a scavenger hunt of two players, risking to be caught in the worst of ways. They met almost every Sunday, excusing the Quidditch and Hogsmead weekends. She wasn't sure at first what they could talk about, but week after week she found herself not ready to give these meetings up. Malfoy turned out to be more like her than she expected.
The semester was coming to a close. They had exactly two weeks left. Neither of them felt worried for the exams. They spent a few weeks studying between themselves. Hermione was sprawled one red velvet couch and Malfoy was sat on a green one across; something she suggested they transfigure because the cold stone and one lone chair got uncomfortable after a while.
The air was awkward. They had gone through the small talk, but the logical idea of moving the conversation to summer holidays felt unnatural. They tiptoed around anything doing with their 'real' lives.
Ten minutes passed before she broke. It couldn't hurt to ask, right? "Are you excited for the break?"
He continued to stare at his feet, letting the silence grow thicker like wild brush. The release of a sigh broke it up. She let one out as she tried looking anywhere but him.
"No."
"Oh." She trailed off. It would've been easier to lie, but his answer couldn't help but let her agree.
—
The feeling of someone standing over her caused her to shoot her eyes open. Standing above her was Malfoy…? Were they still in the astronomy tower? Oh no.
She sat up, peering around to confirm her fears. His usual perfectly presented self was dishevelled; half his clothing wrinkled still and his hair barely swept back into its normal place. She hopped as she tried shoving her feet back into her shoes. How did she let this happen?
"What time is it?" She barked the question so harshly at Malfoy she could see him visibly taken aback by her tone. She muttered a sorry.
"Just past seven." He led the way down the stairs and through the tower.
She considered a hundred different lies by the time they made it to a main hallway, but none seemed to lead to a version of events where she wasn't pestered with more questions. "I — I don't know what to say. When someone asks."
"Don't say anything. Let them fill in the blanks, smile and nod." He turned back to face her. Though his clothes were slightly out of place, he still looked better than she imagined herself to look.
He looked her up and down before moving in. His slender hands slipped around her neck. Both eyes fluttered closed for a second, but opened back when she realised he was only adjusting the collar of her shirt. As he pulled away, she gave him a small smile in return.
He led the way through the corridors before they departed near the staircases. As she entered the common room, she repeated his advice, trying to steel herself with confidence he oozed.
—-
"I'll miss this." Hermione said. They were spending the last night Sunday before the school would depart. It was an oddly bittersweet feeling to be done with whatever this was with Malfoy.
"Understandable. I am great company."
They sat quietly on a shared couch, staring out into the dark. It was like most nights where not much was said, but the silence was comforting. She tapped her heels against the stone and listened to the sounds as she hummed a tune inside her head. She had a question nagging her, but wasn't sure she wanted to ask it.
She turned to face him. "What's after this? Next year? Do we write over the break?"
His body went frigid for a second. He straightened himself back up as he gripped and released his knee repeatedly.
"Depends. You said we weren't friends." A smirk gathered at the edge of his lips, pulling up one side as he stared down at her. Even on a sofa, the height difference was noticeable.
"I… Okay, well." The heat prickled across her face as she stumbled over her words. "We're friends… I guess."
"Then I guess I'll see you next year." He leaned back into the couch with his hands over his head.
"You don't want to write?"
He gave her a pointed look. A look she didn't need to ask for clarification on. They both knew with the turning tides, there was a need for separation. A clock somewhere chimed, signalling to the both of them it was time to go.
They transfigured the couch down to its broke spare piece of wood before Malfoy kicked it over to a dusty corner. One last look over and they led themselves out of the tower and back to the main corridor.
It was an awkward goodbye, one most would have after the first day with a stranger. She watched him disappear into the darkness, but right before he faded, Malfoy turned back. She couldn't make much out, but she figured he was staring. Awkwardly, she gave a final wave before heading for her commons. Next year, she thought.
—
Late June came when Hermione found a strange owl pecking at her window. She was cautious about opening the window, but she tossed a treat down just as quickly as she took the note.
It wasn't terribly long, but read: G. Perhaps a month was too long. Things are going great. Searching for a specific place that sells ink. Hope all is Well. M.
She hoped by staring at the paper the words written between the lines would jump out. A pecking at the window forced her to rush for a paper and pen to respond.
Dreadful as always. Need to pick up a new quill. Any good places?
Town of Oxford has a great selection. Funny, we might just run into each other on Sabbath.
Perhaps. Thank you for the suggestions.
She stared off at the owl growing small. She waited for the sinking, suspicious, despairing feeling to hit her, but the smaller the owl got the more confident she felt it wasn't coming. A change.
—
A glance around town centre proved the place to be a slow, sleepy town. She fingered the wand in her right pocket as she waited. The obvious question of this being a disaster in the making crossed her mind many times. Yet she still showed.
"The ink shop I last heard was down over here." A voice, lowly whispered behind her. It was no more obvious than Malfoy.
"Thank you." She bowed her head before starting towards the pointed direction.
They walked close tougher, in sync at every step. With every step and sway, a brush of fabric toyed against the back of her hand. She forced herself to keep looking on, but a small smile crept to her lips. The end of the road split off into two. She stayed a half step back to follow his lead. He continued the journey through the tall grass, making way for a large oak ahead.
At their arrival, Malfoy rounded the corner of the tree to grab a familiar broomstick. He held it up at her with a cheeky grin.
"Fancy a ride?" He asked.
"Absolutely not." She rebutted.
His grin morphed into a small pout. His bottom lip sticking out so far out she could see the pleasant red shade that was hidden away on the inside. She continued with her arms crossed and her head shaking as he approached her with the broom.
"Just far enough out of view." He lowered it, waiting for her to answer as he mounted it.
His eyes were killing her. She closed hers, breathing to stay calm. When she opened them again, she was a goner. She slid behind and wrapped her arms around his waist. She could just barely place her chin against his shoulder.
"You've ruined me." She whispered. Malfoy chuckled before kicking off and rushing them through the air. The wind whipped past them as he kept them on a straight path for over the hill. She kept her eyes closed mostly, so when a slim hand found its way to the top of her leg, she jumped. He gave a reassuring stroke across it with his thumb before dipping right in a hard turn.
She tightened her grip, her fingers bunching the fabric of his cloak in her hands. Her eyes remained squeezed shut as she silently begged to back on the ground. And as if her wish was granted instantaneously, the broom halt to a stop.
"There." He told her. He loosened the grip she had on him as he stepped off. He held one hand out for her to take as he helped her settle back onto familiar ground.
She held her head up high as she looked up at him. "That was awful."
She turned on a heel and started for the tree shortly in behind them. She could make out the sounds of Malfoy following in suit, laughing at her.
—
"Has it been bad?" She asked.
Silence.
"Yeah." He said.
She reached over, placing her hand on top of his before wrapping it around. She gave it a soft squeeze, and it held there. She pulled away, but stopped when she felt his hand tugging back.
—-
"With this bond, you are forever beholden to the other. May death be your only separation. May eternity be your beginning."
She couldn't help but smile up at Draco as he gave her forearm a small squeeze. He gave one back, a rare one that wasn't produced by cockiness or laughter, but true happiness. The silver smoke twisted itself around their arms before dissolving into their bodies.
From this moment, there was no going back. There never really was a chance to go back after the first night in the tower. She was wrong when she said they weren't friends. She had never known someone closer to herself before him. She was wrong when she said he'd ruined her. He only bettered her every day.
They dropped each other's arm, but their hands found themselves connected again. She leaned in, pushing on her toes to sink into a shared kiss. Their lips moved across each other slowly. A sound of a pop broke her away. White strands of confetti floated to the ground.
"You mentioned this to be a tradition of the muggle world." Draco pulled her into him. She watched as continuous amounts of confetti streamed from the sky.
"It looks like snow." She said. With a reached out hand, she watched as bits piled themselves onto her palm.
"I felt this might be a little more ethical than rice. I heard birds die from it, or something."
She laughed at him.
—-
"Draco did no wrong. He was a child. We are children."
"Mr Malfoy was of age for most of the war, Ms Granger." Kingsley Shacklebolt retorted.
"Send him to Azkaban and you'll be forcing me to go, too." She stepped in front of Draco. Her hands found their way around her back and into his arms. Her grip so tight, Malfoy whispered her name to loosen it.
"Hermione." Harry's voice strained.
"No, Harry." Her voice didn't tremble nor waiver. "We cannot start this with punishing children for the actions of their parents. You are bound to spiral us right back to where we were."
The room stopped. No more whispering, no more moving around. Everyone stopped to stare at her after the words came out. She straightened herself up and held her chin a little higher.
"I will not let you do this. Send him where you want, but you'll be sending me, too."
"Granger…" Draco's voice broke her thoughts apart. She turned to see him looking equally nervous as the rest of them.
She placed a hand lightly against his chest. His heart was throbbing. She could feel the onset of a panic attack coming. "Trust me."
She didn't have to say anymore. He pushed on her shoulders, turning her back to face Harry and Kingsley. They were still whispering amongst themselves. After Draco cleared his throat, the two gave their attention back.
"We simply cannot allow someone who committed war crimes to walk amongst us like nothing happened. That is not fair to anyone."
"It's not fair to punish a child raised into this. If I, a true muggle born, can see this and forgive him, then so should you." She said bluntly.
A whisper from behind them, "Yeah, well, you're also screwing him."
She pulled back on Draco's arm as she felt him shift. He struggled for a second against her before giving up. She kept her focus on the two people making this decision.
"This is not a personal matter, Hermione. Let the Wizgamont do its justice. Please." Harry pleaded. She wouldn't give in, not after the help Draco supplied them at the end. This wasn't fair. "Or… or you can leave the Wizarding World…"
"Say no more." She didn't wait to hear Harry's ending. She Apparated Draco and herself to a small countryside in France.
It was the first spot she could think of. They both doubled over, feeling queasy from the sudden country jump. After a couple of minutes, she was being pulled into a hug. Draco's arm wrapped around her tightly and his chin rested onto of his head. She buried her face into his chest as she listened to his breathing and soaked in his scent.
"We can go back. Explain it all. I can take the punishment." He whispered.
"We're of age. We don't have to go back, they won't find us."
—-
So they made themselves a home in the east of France. They never tried hard to hide. They kept their names and stories. Only once, they switched their wands out for something new. No one came looking, and they never went searching. Some nights, her mind drove her crazy, wondering the what-ifs and what Harry was trying to say. In the end, she didn't care.
Draco carried her over the threshold of their cottage and beeline it straight for their room.
"I don't see us leaving here anytime soon, Granger." Draco told her as he dropped her on the bed.
She laughed. He fell right into her, landing a hard kiss against her lips.