Day 12

The air was thick with fog, its dampness still lingering from the earlier rain. Mist blanketed his face. A gentle breeze brought with it the sound of chirping birds, ending the stillness of the island.

Draco blinked slowly, feeling the coarse sand grinding against his skin as he laid there. He could just barely feel strands of Granger's hair touching his. He gave an inch, and she took a mile, she was entirely way too close. He sat up abruptly, not caring if his sudden action roused her.

Goosebumps prickled his skin as a breeze drifted over him. A long, freezing cold chill left Draco wishing, no begging, that he had worn anything different to the Ministry that day. A cosier sweater, drier socks, and a warm blanket were all he was dreaming of right now.

"Hm. Finally over?" Granger's voice was muffled, head pressed into her shoulder with her other arm covering the rest. He eyed her. Beside her laid a pile of bones she had sharpened over the course of the night. He could still hear a hollowed bone scraping across a rock, and it made his skin crawl as the memory came back to haunt him. Even in a storm of bad weather and silence, she still found new ways to annoy him. Now they were tied together with vine into a sort of necklace. It was grotesque, Draco decided.

He didn't respond. He retrieved his wand and found a new spot on the sand. The sun was bright again. It would be scorching again soon enough. Draco stripped his damp shirt off, spreading it across before removing his shoes. They squelched as he ripped them off. He placed each shoe just on the cuffs of the sleeves to keep the wind from taking off with it. He should take his trousers off with them. He could already feel the itch of wet clothes creeping up his thighs. One tossed look behind him to see if she was looking proved she was already coming straight for him.

He huffed loudly. Just one day.

"We should make shelter. That will not be the last storm that rolls in."

"Can I have five minutes to warm up? Or are you going to dictate me to not waste another day?" His words were sharp. He hoped they were enough to send her storming away. Instead, she took the spot next to him and stared out.

She said, "Doesn't matter to me."

Granger stood there beside him, ringing out her hair and running her fingers through the curls, eyeing his inner arm. He looked down at the mess of faded grey. He convinced himself for so long it wasn't really there, sometimes he forgot it was a lie. Awkwardly, Draco moved his right hand to cover it before turning away from her eyes.

—-

Hermione stared at their spot. She was waiting for an idea of their shelter to spark, but her mind was busy wandering. The sand was a mess, littered with the pieces of clothing they shed off; the vines were cleared away and shells were piled up on top of each other in a way that was quite precarious, and behind all of it were saved scraps of bones, coconuts, anything she thought they might use one day. Well lived in, she wasn't sure why this realisation shocked her.

Everything she worked for in life, all she fought for was for nothing. Her late childhood given away to Harry in hopes for a better future. She spent so long of her short adult life being miserable just to end up here. It was a cruel joke.

She didn't believe in Divination, destiny, fate. None of it. Even in fifth year when during Divination her tea leaves read her fate would be doomed with hardship and loneliness, Hermione scoffed at it. Such a vague answer, she chalked it up to being about the war, if anything at all, back then, but now, she wondered if it was true. Had she been destined all along to an island?

Was Hermione always destined to be pile of bones, gone, forgotten, never found? If fate were real — which it wasn't — it was a cruel bastard.

"Where do we start?" Malfoy's voice penetrated her thoughts, drawing her out and back to reality.

"You get the bamboo, I'll find some palms," she said. She didn't wait to hear a response, Hermione collected her shoes, shoving her feet into them as she ignored the uncomfortable tightness.

"How am I supposed to get that?" He paused as she turned back to him slowly, giving a look he didn't have to decipher. He held up a finger, saying, "I will figure it out."

Piled in front of them laid neatly stack of fresh picked palm leaves, organised by size and all, and next to them, a range of fallen bamboo. Hermione was winding much needed vine in her arms while standing in front of their alcove, eyeing it all, hoping a plan would come to mind.

"What now?"

"I don't know. I'm thinking." At least she was trying. It wasn't going very far, they didn't have much to work with.

"I thought you knew everything."

Hermione sighed and let the vine fall to her feet, pinching the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut. "Well, I don't."

"Well, I assumed since…" he said.

"Assumptions make an ass out of you and me." They really did. After almost two weeks, many things she assumed of Malfoy did turn out to be true, but sometimes, in a very tiny sliver of a moment, one assumption would be wrong. Though she didn't think she'd let him in on that half of her thought any time soon.

He gave her a look of confusion. "What?"

"It's a muggle saying. Don't assume things, sometimes you'll look like an ass. Like I assume you to be incredibly stupid."

"But how does that make you look like an ass? It doesn't make much sense to me."

"It's just a saying. You don't have to take it literally."

"But then, why did you say it?"

"Because I can say things. And sometimes those things don't have to make much sense."

"But you're…"

"If you end that with Hermione Granger and 'you're supposed to make sense', I will follow that up with a statement about Draco Malfoy and a very long string of horrific words. Be quiet."

"Oh. I think I get it now."

"Really." She wasn't interested in hearing this. Truly.

"You're just insufferable for no reason and a liar for letting everyone believe you know everything."

"So close."

Malfoy spun around quickly, clearly gauging his surroundings, as if he expected something to be right behind them. His voice pitched slightly higher as he said, "To what?"

"Just… wedge that piece of bamboo between those two branches."

Within a couple of hours, the base of their structure was built, albeit not the best. One long beam wedged tightly in between the forks of two trees, they tied the rest of the bamboo to act as walls, leaving two slim openings on each side. It allowed them separation and space until they could gather more for a second structure. They took turns bumping into it and as long as no Malfoy sized person ran full force into it, it should work just fine.

She looked towards the falling over pile of palms she had dragged back and asked, "Do you think we should weave them or just layer them?"

"I don't fucking care." He snapped at her.

"Well, you sure had an opinion on the way to tie bamboo together, I was just asking." She scoffed. It was like there was an imaginary timer for his attitude. She never knew when she'd run out of pleasant conversations with him and get her head bit off.

"Seriously, I do not care."

"Weaving them would provide more waterproofing, but time consuming. Then again, we have all the time apparently. Stacking them is easier, less labour intensive. Less likely for it to last, too, I bet." She paused, waiting from him to add input, but when he wouldn't even look at her, she continued, "You're right. We should just do both."

Malfoy let out a strangled groan as he walked off towards the shore. Hermione let out a tiny chuckle. Sometimes, the smallest things were wins and today, she could mentally add a tally to her scoreboard.

—-

Draco stepped out of the tree line, looking for Granger. He could barely make out her head in the far distant to the south. He kept watch as he made his way towards her as she pulled a large branch behind her out of the jungle and onto the beach. She would have to stop and tug it to get it unstuck from the sand. She gave it one more large pull before stumbling backwards and falling gracefully on her bum.

"What are you doing?" He called out to her once he got closer. She looked over at him, holding up one hand to block the sun out.

"I'm building a 'help' sign. If we're in the tropics, then there must be planes overhead at some point." She gestured to the large H she had already spelt made of branches and washed up seaweed and vines.

"Planes?"

She stopped her movements and dropped the branch in her heads. She closed her mouth before opening it back to inform him. "It's a muggle form of transportation. It's their version of a broom and Apparition."

"Weird." He tried thinking of what a 'plane' would look like. His mind settled on flat surface muggles would stand on to be moved around, something to the tune of moving staircases.

He took over, moving the branches as she straightened out the foliage. They fell into their pattern of working together in silence. He stepped back to stare at their creation as she made the final adjustments.

"You think a plane could see this?" Genuine curiosity was getting the best of him. He needed to know if this was worth getting his hopes up for.

"Maybe. I think we should do some more spread across the island just in case," she said as she trotted back in the beginnings of the jungle.

"Should you even be doing that?" Draco asked as he watched Granger heaved another large limb out of the tangles of weeds. It was like watching two animals fight against each other for power, and it wasn't quite clear who was winning. She pulled again, grunting loudly, before dropping back to the sand.

Granger shrugged, only glancing down to her side briefly. "I'll get over it."

"Okay, because if you bleed out… I'm screwed."

"Is this your way of saying you care about me?" She taunted, clearly being facetious. It was the first cackle out of her he'd heard.

"No, this is me saying when I get off the island and you're dead because of your own stupidity, I don't want to be charged with murder." It was true. He'd suffered from a nightmare or two, thinking she'd perished and left him to suffer alone and he'd be charged with her murder, even if he had nothing to do with it.

"So close."

"To what?" He asked, still wondering if he was missing something.

—-

They walked the course of what felt like half the island only stopping once or twice to build new signs. Granger kept close to the water, walking through the waves with her shoes in hand. He watched her from higher on the beach.

On their way back, Granger spoke up. "Do you think they're still looking for us?"

"You? Probably. I hardly see those two giving up anytime soon for you. Me? No." He shrugged. It was glaringly obvious she had a group of people rallying behind her every day. Of course, they were still looking for her. How would she think differently?

"What about your family?" She kicked up a small shell with her foot before she bent over to pick it up. She rotated it in her hand before throwing it off into the water.

Draco scoffed at her question. What family did he have? His father was imprisoned and Mother was in social exile, figuratively and literally. He shook his head no before adding, "I doubt anyone informed my father. Mother is probably desperate, but there's only so much you can do from the confines of your home."

"Oh. She's still on house arrest?"

He nodded his head again. The air between them was thick. It was a long silence before she finally spoke up again.

"Do you have any friends?" Draco stopped and turned to her. He glared at her for the question as she turned a bright red in the face. She stumbled over her words as she tried backtracking. "I — of course you do. I just… I meant — Do you have any that would look for you for your mother?"

"Yes."

The silence was loud. He held her gaze, waiting to see if she would stumble over her words this time or not. The blush drained and her shoulders relaxed, he only raised his eyebrows.

She asked, "Who?"

"What?" Taken aback, this conversation had gone longer than he expected and already barrelled into lines of unknown personality.

"Who? Who are your friends?"

"You sound like a damn bird," he said. Granger's stare didn't let up. "Same crowd from school."

"Oh."

"I'm sure the Weasel is heartbroken you're gone. It's probably the first extended holiday you've got from your boyfriend." He teased.

"He's not my boyfriend." He gave her confused look. She clarified, "We broke up shortly after the war, but the public still loves to run with it. He's moved on. I have, too."

"Oh." He assumed she'd be the type to hang on, a one and done type. Maybe assumptions did make him an ass.

"Were you seeing someone?" She asked.

He considered the question. He wasn't officially seeing anyone, but his relationship with Astoria remained off and on for the past year. They couldn't agree on their next step. She wanted marriage, and he wanted something. He didn't know what, but it wasn't marriage. They broke up the prior year but had since developed a friends-with-benefits situation.

"No." He finally responded to her. She gave him look as if she knew if he needed that long to think about it, whatever he answered with was probably wrong.

—-

"I think you should try." Draco urged her. They had been debating the wand situation again. He wanted to try casting spells off like nothing was broken and maybe they could get used to the sparks and control the magic. Granger was against the idea. She thought it would result in injury, or a worse crack in the core.

"It's a dumb idea." She didn't give up much of a fight for him to see her side of things. She gave her opinion and let him accept it or not.

"Fine, I'll do it." He grabbed the wand from her hands. He headed out to the middle of the beach and positioned himself. "Expecto Petronum!"

Nothing happened. A lone red spark fizzled at the end. It hadn't even escaped the wand before it died out. It was a pathetic sight for a pathetic attempt. He tried it again, but nothing happened. He twisted his feet further into the sand as he tried for a third time. He could hear Granger approaching him.

"Give it to me." She held out her hand for him to drop the wand in. He refused, but she insisted, "You don't know how to do that spell clearly, I'll do it."

She took the wand and tried casting the spell. The same nothingness happened to her. Readjusting her stance, Granger yelled the spell, this time expecting nothing, but a white flash blinded him and followed by a strangled cry as she threw the wand away, holding one hand in the other. He took one step closer to see it was now red hot and already forming small blisters around her hand.

"Rag. Water. Now." She groaned out as she blew softly on the skin to relieve the pain. Draco found himself quick in grabbing what she wanted, a surprise to him he didn't have time to process.

Jogging back to where she sat on the sand, he handed off the sopping wet rag and watched as she gingerly pressed it to her palm. "It backfired on you. I'm guessing the crack goes further down the wand than we can see now."

"I don't think this wand is our way off the island, unfortunately. I'm guessing mine is still in the Ministry…" She trailed off.

"Fuck."

—-

She curled into a ball; the shelter was just barely big enough for her to do so, her back brushed against bamboo and she shifted carefully away. The fire was still crackling just out of the opening. It gave enough light, Hermione could just make out Malfoy laying flat on his side, feet far past his 'true' side. The shelter was far from perfect, but she'll take it.

Just as she closed her eyes, eager to meet sleep, his voice pulled her back. "So about those assumptions."

"Yes." She whispered.

"You assumed me to be stupid, and that makes you an ass because really, you know I'm brilliant. Still not sure where this assumption also makes me an ass."

"Don't look too far into it."

Moments passed. She was sure he moved on. Their short-lived conversation gone with the wind, and sleep just one blink away, ready to take them over. It could've been minutes, seconds, she was still waiting to see; he spoke up again. "Well, I did finish top of our class."

"Only because I wasn't there that one year, you know."

"It still counts."

"Sure, Malfoy." She snuggled further into the sand, promising herself she'd never tell another soul about how she went to bed that night with a half small smile against her lips.