DAY ?
The day began much like the others. Melded and distorted together like the island vines. The end was the start. The middle was the end. A cluster of turbulence as the hours passed. Hermione's mind drifted to the possibility she might've been out for longer than she suspected. Could she believe Malfoy when he said four days passed? If it had been four days, this would make it day 7? Two days had passed since she woke, if she were correct. It begun to be impossible to tell.
Hermione rubbed her forehead as she speculated it. They would be looking for her now. Why aren't they here yet?
Harry would tear up the Ministry, wanting to examine every speck of dirt. She had no doubts Ron would be next to him, doing the same. They probably argued a lot during this. The corners of her lips stretched into a sad sort of smile.
At first, it was a chuckle that came out, but soon salt laden tears poured down her face, making their way into her mouth and down her neck. The chuckles faded into sobs as she bared down on her teeth, forcing the grin to stay. She clutched her arms around her chest, crushing herself into a hug. It did nothing to comfort her, but she tried her best to pretend.
What if no one was searching? What if they deemed her a causality and they're moving on? The thoughts were like water going down a drain. The possibilities were endless, but that never stopped her.
It was clear in her mind the Ministry bombing had been an attack, but by whom she had only one solid guess. A string of organised Death Eaters who evaded arrest or had light sentences; a rising problem she heard Harry from a lot, causing him disquiet. The attack wasn't meant for mass casualties. Instead, for a group like this, Diagon Alley would've been a great target, only for the fact a week prior, citizens had packed the streets then. This was a show; a show of competence and strength. Hermione just happened to be the unlucky one.
Hermione could only naturally let her thoughts stray towards Malfoy, his connections, and his predicament.
Could he be involved? Certainly not, maybe. Perhaps. She didn't know him. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't guess. It wasn't like their interactions together were consistent. If this was a plan, he had plenty of time to act. Was he also just a causality of this? Then again, maybe this was the plan.
She scrunched her eyes closed, hands now gripping her head as she pleaded for her brain to shut off. Circling the drain was exhausting enough, but doing it on empty left nothing for her to desire. She could spend the rest of her days theorising everything and never getting an answer. She probably would be.
A strong wave crashed onto the shore and splashed a sprinkle of salt water across her. She welcomed the coldness. Without a cloud in the sky, the heat ruled supreme here. She missed the days of cold foggy London. Her body did not agree with the weather.
The broken skin across her face itched. With every pull of a facial muscle, her entire face tightened. She couldn't help but bite and pick at the chapped skin on her lips.
"Ow." She said under her breath as she pulled off the smallest bit of chapped skin. She brushed her thumb across her bottom lip, wiping the blood from it before sucking it off.
They needed to do something, whether or not he wanted to.
She forced herself up to limp back to the tree line. Densely packed shade sounded amazing right now. As she crossed over into it, she noticed Malfoy sulking in the corner. He blended too well into the darkness.
His arms stayed crossed against his chest with his legs stretched and his ankles crisscrossed. He careened against a palm tree with his head tilted back. Her eyes traced his outline from the tip of his head down to his feet. He still wore his full suit. She wondered briefly if the heat was bothering him, but quickly shut it out. Hermione refused to care. There was something she needed to find.
As if on cue, Malfoy's head snapped forward, making eye contact with Hermione. They stared at each other in silence. She waited for him to break, but he wouldn't. She refused to be the one to give in. She settled herself further into the sand and leaned against a fallen log.
She readjusted her posture after a broken limb jabbed her back. When a flare of pain flew through her side, she shuffled to the right. Immediately, she gripped her side, hissing at the intensity. The pain was bad, but all she could think about was the fact she broke the eye contact first.
"God dammit." She said. Her hands trembled as she started peeling up her dried out blouse. She didn't want to look.
With the edge of her nail, Hermione picked at the dried seaweed she used as dressing. Her hissing turned into a full groan as it ripped away from her tender skin. Malfoy's eyes were on her now. They burned into her as they followed her movements.
The wound was puffy and red now. It simultaneously looked better and worse. It remained closed from the sap, but the heat radiating off it stunk of infection. She sucked in her lip, biting down hard, so she could poke it without screaming. With each touch, she let out a harsh breath. This was better than bleeding out. Unless she was bleeding internally. Then she was fucked. The seaweed bandages seemed to be helping.
Hermione looked up to see Malfoy's eyes were still firmly on her wound. His face paled at the sight of it. Yet, he still ignored her.
She broke the silence between them first. "We need ground rules."
"No," he said.
"I get it's mutual hate, but if you want any chance to survive this, you need to listen to me."
He held up one slender finger at her, wagging it. "You might be the golden girl back home where everyone follows your every command, but I will not be doing that here."
Hermione stared at him. Her eye twitched.
"That doesn't — That's not — Are you purposely trying to be so difficult that we die, or are you just that stupid?" She muttered.
He shrugged and began picking at the sand, tossing whatever he found into the darkness.
"First, you tell me everything. From start to finish. Second, never jeopardise our chance at food or water. Third, keep your hands off of me. Fourth, tomorrow we hike." She didn't care if he listened or followed, but her gut eased.
The only tell he gave was indifference.
"What happened to me?" She asked.
He shrugged. It's not a real answer he gave, but he pointed to the dark maroon coloured spot in the sand in front of them then over to the darker stain down the beach.
She threw her head back in frustration. "Oh, my god. Tell me."
"I would fucking say if I fucking knew, Granger." He responded. His words were icy and sharp, slicing through any shred of hope she had for a real answer. He clearly preferred being an unhelpful prat.
"Give me your wand." She said with a raised voice. She held out her hand, demanding it. He stares back at her with his eyebrows quirked at her change of tone.
Slowly, he pulled out the wand from underneath. Malfoy had tucked it behind him against the log he leaned against. He spun it around and showed off the splinted wood and exposed core; utterly broken.
It reminded her of Ron's first wand. Broken and battered, yet it still worked — almost. She wondered briefly it would be the same. It was their only chance.
"Let me see it." She urged, shaking her held out hand.
He dropped it back into the sand, wiggling himself back into a relaxed position. Hermione closed her eyes for a solid five seconds. She counted the seconds down as she took them to calm the rage growing inside. Five seconds to herself and she would try again. Five seconds.
She opened them back to his slimy smirk displayed on his face. The five seconds of peace she had were long gone. The rage spilled out. She moved quicker than she expected. Launching herself onto her hands and knees, she took a lunge forward and snatched the wand off the sand.
His hand wasn't quick enough to grab any part of her as she sunk back into her spot. She smiled at herself, twirling it with pride. Unfortunately, her five seconds of pride cut short as the pain took its moment to shine. The wand remained clutched in her hand as she pressed herself against the log, trying to ride out the wave of pinching and burning.
It felt like her insides were twisting together and throbbed at the entrance of her wound almost threatening to break out for the fun of it. It passed eventually.
Malfoy was still glaring at her. Something about leaving a lingering annoyance on him brought her joy.
"Not very quick for a seeker. Your reflexes are shit." She remarked. A tiny smile pulled on her lips.
His eyes narrowed. "I wasn't trying."
"Sure. You still got beat out by an injured girl. Embarrassing."
"I didn't think you were the type to perpetuate those stereotypes. Embarrassing." He snarled back.
The smile on her lips dropped. Hermione shook herself off and went back to the wand still in her hand. She examined the extent of the cracks. It couldn't be much worse. The core could've snapped, but by the looks of it, it looked completely intact. There was hope.
With a flick of her wrist, she tried sending a spell from the wand, but ended up only sending sparks backfiring from the tip. They passed over Draco's head and into a tree. Barely, he ducked in time. The wand end burned in her hand hot enough she threw it back into the sand. A few smaller sparks sizzled out around it, dying in the sand as the wand finally fell back into a stasis of nothing.
"What the fuck, Granger?" He snapped at her, looking behind him to see the tree lightly singed.
"Well, we have fire." Hermione simply shrugs her shoulders.
"Should've let you bleed out." Malfoy muttered under his breath as he leaned forward to retrieve the broken wand. He tucked it under the log.
"How many days has it been?" She asked.
"Six." He said. His finger pointed to the log beside him where six long marks etched into it.
"Do you know what happened? At the Ministry, I mean." She might as well try to get him to talk now.
"No."
"Did you have a part in it?" The words tumbled out before she could shut her mouth. The curse of being too fond of questions and answers, she supposed.
"Fuck you." He kicked sand up at her as he got up and stormed down the beach. His body language was seething as he ignored her pleas to come back.
She let out a sigh as she banged her head against the log.
She made herself busy for the rest of evening as she gathered the closest branches to the forest to build a fire. They at least had a wand malfunctioning enough to light something on fire. She had finished collecting more than enough wood for the evening already, but couldn't help but continue to avoid apologising to him. She needed to, but it was going to suck.
After a few more minutes of picking the smallest sticks, she finally stood, grabbing the wand, and walking over to Malfoy. He hadn't strayed too far. Just out of sight and sound. He looked at the sun setting in a similar position like she did earlier.
He looked over at her, and she waved the damaged wand in front of him. He got up to grab it from her before he walked back to camp. She could hear him mumbling about doing it, so Potter couldn't blame him when she caught on fire.
"Incendio."
Nothing happened. Smoke swelled at the end of the wand before it dissipated. He tried it again with the same result.
"Maybe try it without speaking?" She suggested, sounding unsure if that could even fix the issue.
He pointed the wand at the pile of wood, flicking it multiple times with nothing but small sparks coming from it. With a rage of frustration, he threw the wand at the firewood. A large spark erupted from the tip, setting the pile on fire.
Hermione rushed forward to retrieve the wand from the fire, blowing at the tiny blaze that had caught on it. She carefully placed the wand back beneath the log they had been using as a seat before turning back to Malfoy. It had lifted a weight off as the fire grew steadily. They had light, which meant they had something to help survive.
"Thank you."
"I didn't do it for you." He sounded angry still.
The sun set and they both stayed silent for the rest of the evening. She wasn't sure if she should say something, or ask if they should take shifts. The furrow of his brow and the clenched fists told her that interrupting his silence was not a good idea. She was just going to wait him out so he could make the first move. She was the first to sleep.
DAY 7
The morning came too fast, and Hermione found herself laying flat on her back with the sun just barely over the horizon. A quick glance over confirmed Malfoy had also fallen asleep at some point. She tried running her fingers through part of her hair, but was met with far more tangles and knots than she had expected. Guess being unconscious and sleeping on the ground for seven days wasn't helping.
A week. A full week stranded. Not a single sign of rescue was coming. She stared into the barely grey sky. The stars were faint as they faded out. If she closed her eyes and focused on the image in her mind, she almost felt at home. Hermione thought of Harry, hoping if she focused enough every on what she would say to him right now he would hear it. If she channelled all her magic into it, maybe — just maybe.
It was no use. Her fists slammed against the sand in frustration.
They needed to find a source of water and more food today. They needed to strategize what they were going to do to get off this beach. She needed a shower, and she desperately needed to find something to tie her hair back. She made a mental note of their list of tasks today as she sat up. The fire had gone out a while ago, leaving behind cold charred branches.
She contemplated what to do with Malfoy for a minute. She needed to get along with him for the sake of safety. She couldn't stand his attitude and tone of voice half the time. He seemed perfectly content sleeping all day and sitting by the water. Her mind wandered to the thoughts of what he did while she was unconscious. By the looks of their so-called camp, he did nothing. No fire, no water, no food for him for two days before she woke up. She wanted to be mad about it, but the nagging voice in the back of mind told her she wouldn't have done any better.
Without hesitation, Hermione picked up a small rock beside her before tossing it at him and pegging him right on the side of his torso hard. She watched as his eyes snapped open and locked with hers.
"Piss off. Don't throw shit at me." He held up the small pointed rock that she had indeed thrown at him before tossing it back towards her.
"We've got a lot to do today. Get up." She told him.
She didn't bother waiting on him as she walked down the shore to rinse her hands in the water and wash her face. The seaweed pasted to her side started to peel off. It wasn't as red as the days before; the only good thing to be going for her. She found a smaller piece of seaweed, rinsing it in the salt water briefly, before sticking it to the wound. Her finger lightly rubbed across it. The stinging had subsided.
She surveyed the area once more, looking for signs of anything that could point them in the right direction.
"Malfoy! Up!" She shouted in his direction.
"You're a fucking bitch, you know."
She gave him an indifferent smile before shrugging her shoulders. "We need to find fresh water and something more than just coconuts."
"Okay? Go right on ahead. I'll be here." He said.
She covered her face with her hands and seriously contemplated screaming into them. One deep breath in and she removed her hands. "You're coming with me because I swear, if I see sign of life on the other side I will not be telling them about you."
Malfoy muttered something under his breath she couldn't quite make out, but didn't protest any further.
They both stared into the vines and trees packed so densely almost no light could shine through to the jungle floor. Each passing night was filled with the creaking of the trees. Sometimes a lone twig could be heard snapping in half in the distant. They both knew something was out there. Lurking. They saw it. Its energy radiated off the jungle. Malfoy seemed to have more fears of it than her. The wind during the day didn't help ease the sounds either. Vines slapped against the trunks of trees loud enough for them to spend the day craning their necks, looking for the source.
Sometimes a crack could be heard and when she peered over her shoulder, checking the source, she expected to see someone staring back. The jungle gave her the creeps. The feeling washed over her just as she was staring into it. Her body, instincts, screamed at her to not go in, but her mind reasoned. They needed to.
Meanwhile — 6 days ago
"We have been able to, successfully, confirm the explosion at the Ministry yesterday was indeed an act of violence and terrorism committed by a new wave of Death Eaters. In this attack, only minor injuries were reported. They released the last injured person from St. Mungo's earlier this morning. Only two people remain missing: Hermione Granger, age 26, and Draco Malfoy, age 25." Minister Shacklebolt paused briefly to hold two photos up for the crowd of reporters.
In one hand, a photo of Hermione from an old Ministry ID. In the other, a photo of Malfoy. It looked like a mugshot of him from recent years, if Harry guessed.
"We believe the attack is connected to Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger's disappearance. If you see, hear, know anything that might be related, please contact the Auror's office immediately. Thank you." Shacklebolt stepped away from the podium. The crowd began shouting question after questions, pushing forward to get closer, hoping to hear something more from him.
Harry could hear Ron whispering in his ear a million different comments, but he couldn't focus on them. He always knew Malfoy was never up to no good and now this? He wished he hadn't spoken out for him during his trial. He wished he listened to everyone else when they told him not to. This felt like a huge mistake and he was the leading cause of this all happening.
"Mate, are you listening at all?" Ron tugged hard on his inner elbow. It jerked him back towards his friend, making him lose his train of thought for a half second.
"What?"
"I was saying we should go back to Hermione's place and find her parents so we can tell them what's going on. Mum already wants to organise search parties." Ron repeated with a clipped tone to his voice. Harry give his head a small shake as if to push the thoughts to the back of his very cluttered mind.
He nodded his head and followed Ron out the doors. A quick Apparition to a side alley near Hermione's apartment building in the middle of muggle London, the pair were at her door as they barged in. They were lucky she left the wards to allow them to enter.
"Go find a notebook, she probably has it written there. I know she's got a mobile here." Harry told him.
Ron made his to her room and Harry set forth, opening every draw in sight looking for her mobile. He'd just seen it the other day, but he couldn't recall where. He squeezed his eyes shut as he played back the memory in his head, trying to draw out the small details he didn't notice before. It was a short attempt; he gave up after thirty seconds and decided rummaging through her things was a faster method.
"Do you think it's odd we've never met her parents before?" Ron called out.
He considered the question lightly. It wasn't a topic brought up often, so he never considered the issue. "No? Maybe they just weren't fond of the Wizarding Wold after the war." He paused before muttering, "I don't blame them for it."
He turned again and started rummaging through the stack of items on the side table. Still nothing. He looked up for a second, glancing at Crookshanks as the cat sauntered up to the couch and glaring at Harry. The shiny grey case of her phone twinkled behind the cat. It had been sitting underneath a pile of parchment on the other side of the room.
He rushed over to it and worked his way through the contacts. Not finding what he needed, he tried again.
"Found her contact book, but nothing about her parents is in it." Ron said as he walked into the room, holding up the spiral bound red notebook.
"No contact for her parents in here, either." Harry scrunched his eyebrows together as he scrolled through one more time. He moved his mouth side to side as he thought about it.
"It's weird that we haven't found anything about her parents yet, right?"
Harry spun around the room, noticing the lack of family photos hanging up. He never noticed before, but he'd seen the Granger's home once before. They loved their photos. The picture frames hung the wall of all their rooms, showcasing milestones, memories, and happiness between the three. Hermione's home screamed the opposite.
"Yeah."
