A/N: This chapter was a lot of fun to write, mostly because there wasn't that much writing to do! I wrote the storm scene forever ago, though I wasn't sure where exactly I was going to use it. It wasn't too hard to copy and paste that in, and that was almost a quarter of the chapter. I did some research on Albania, too, so while my facts may not be entirely accurate, they're somewhat factual.

Since we haven't really had much insight on Draco recently, I used his point of view a bit in this chapter. The end was really written to show the many sides of Draco Malfoy. And there's a little bit of Ron/Hermione in this chapter (setting up for chapter 10, really), but I promise you that the upcoming chapters will push him almost completely out of the picture.

Chapter 9: Albania

"What was he doing in Albania when he captured Bertha?" Hermione asked.

"Don't…know," Malfoy murmured, already drifting back to sleep. "Was there…for a long time…though…"

Hermione turned to Harry and Ron triumphantly. "I think we should go there next."

The boys exchanged a glance, then shrugged. "That sounds good," Harry said.

"Where exactly is Albania, and how do we get there?" Ron asked.

--

The four teenagers remained in the hotel for another five days before Malfoy was well enough to travel. By the second day of their extended stay his back was healed but his lips were pale with blood loss. Hermione kept giving him the blue blood-replenishing potions, and he continued to sleep constantly.

On the fifth day, Malfoy woke Hermione up somewhat before six , demanding a glass of water and lots of food. "For all your considerable skill as a witch, you don't seem to know how to treat a patient."

She frowned. "Did you just compliment me?"

"I also insulted you, if you failed to notice, Granger," he sneered at her. "Now, I've not eaten or drank much of anything in days and you need to fix that."

Hermione sighed and got out of bed, wrapping herself in warmer clothes before she drove to the nearest convenience store and bought enough food for even Malfoy to be satisfied. When she returned to the hotel it was to find Malfoy lying on the floor. "What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"I had to go to the bathroom, Granger, is that such a crime?" he snarled.

"Oh, Malfoy. We both know you're not strong enough to do that yet."

"I can do it," he snapped at her, dragging himself a few feet across the floor.

Hermione put the groceries on the bed and then heaved Malfoy off the carpet. Despite his heavy protests he was too weak to push her off as she took him into the bathroom. Malfoy wobbled when she let go of him, but managed to stay on his feet as she left, shutting the door behind her without locking it. He would get over his pride once he'd relieved himself (she hoped).

There was a flushing noise, and then Hermione heard the tap running. The door swung open and he promptly fell on her. Hermione grunted and wrapped her arms around him as her knees sank to the ground under Malfoy's sudden weight. "Oof," she groaned. "Malfoy, I need you…to help me here."

He managed to pull himself up onto his knees and Hermione gripped the doorframe to pull the pair of them to their feet. She swung Malfoy's arm over her shoulders and walked him to the bed, where he flopped down on it in exhaustion. Hermione reorganized the displaced groceries and then spread everything out on the bed. "I didn't know what you wanted so I got a lot of stuff. Eat whatever you want, I'm going back to sleep."

Malfoy began to pick through the food and Hermione quickly fell asleep once more.

By the end of that day, Hermione hadn't managed to catch up on her sleep, but Malfoy was well enough to walk around the room unassisted. That night Hermione lay in their bed and called the airport to ask about flights. "We're leaving tomorrow afternoon," she announced to the boys. "The tickets are going to cost us 450 pounds each." Ron grimaced and Hermione was careful not to give him a sympathetic glance. He hated it when attention was brought to his financial situation.

"How did you say we would get there?" Malfoy asked.

"Airplane."

"What's that?"

"It—" Hermione hesitated, trying to think of a magical equivalent. "It's sort of like a flying car. You'll see."

Hermione was up late that night making their flight reservations. Malfoy kept distracting her, demanding a glass of water, a book, telling her to be quieter so he could watch the telly as she packed. After having looked after him almost obsessively and lost much sleep while doing so over the past week, she was too exhausted to even be angry at him and simply complied with his excessive demands.

It was nearly midnight by the time Hermione managed to crawl into bed. Malfoy was still watching the television and barely glanced at her when she slid into her side of the bed.

--

Draco looked over at Granger, who was sleeping on the other side of the bed. She had been soundly asleep for nearly a half hour by now. Draco turned off the telly and settled in under the blankets. He felt a little bad for how he'd treated her that day.

He'd never been very good with feelings, particularly ones like appreciation. Draco was extremely grateful to Hermione for what she'd done for him over the past week. The problem was that he didn't know how to express it. He sighed at himself. Since birth, he'd been told that he was better, that to apologize and to thank was weak.

Granger probably wouldn't ever get a verbal thank you for what she'd done, but he'd let her know somehow. He was already regretting his earlier gruffness, but how else would she expect him to act? "You already know I'm bad with this, Granger," he told her sleeping form before he finally closed his eyes and went to sleep.

--

The next morning Draco woke up early. He wasn't in need of much extra sleep, not after days of doing nothing but. His stomach growled a warning and he sighed, looking around the room. Though Granger had bought him a lot of food yesterday, it was gone by now. The Golden Trio had eaten the last of it that night when they'd had their little meeting.

They seemed to have meetings a lot, and said meetings didn't usually involve Draco. It actually didn't bother him much that they still didn't trust him completely. Were they discussing the Horcrux or the upcoming trip to Albania or other things completely?

Draco itched to examine the Horcrux. His parents had bred in him a sort of hypersensitivity to magic. He could feel the weave of spells, so to speak, and every spell was unique. By knowing traits of a certain type of spell, he could make a fairly accurate guess at what the spell did and how to break it. Draco wanted to feel the weave of a Horcrux spell. He imagined what it would feel like: tight like a binding spell, but with the heaviness of death and the lingering stickiness of a blood price.

He shivered at the elaborateness of his own musings and tried not to think of the Horcrux any further. Draco's stomach grumbled again in protest and he looked over at Granger. She had dark circles under her eyes; he had a brief flash of guilt at having run her ragged.

Draco gasped and moaned in pain as his Dark Mark suddenly burned white-hot. Granger, so peaceful but a moment before sat up in bed and looked at him in alarm. "Are you all right? Are you bleeding? Did your cuts reopen?" she blurted out in a rush.

"N-No," he groaned. "The-the Mark…"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh," she uttered. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Something…warm…it'll pass in a bit…" Granger jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, emerging a minute later with a wet towel. He wrapped it around his left forearm, and feeling the warm water drip down his arm was strangely soothing. Draco leaned back against the headboard of the bed and tried to calm himself.

The feeling of being branded subsided after a few minutes, leaving behind a bone-deep ache in Draco's arm. He felt something swipe across his forehead and opened his eyes to see Granger kneeling on the bed next to him with a smaller washcloth, wiping away his sweat.

"You don't have to do that, Granger," he said gruffly.

She continued wordlessly and finally sat back on her heels. "Do you need anything else?"

"Food?" he asked her.

Granger rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll go get you some food. Do you want anything in particular? Should I send in Harry or Ron to…keep you company?"

Draco sneered. "I don't want Potter or Weasley, I want—" you was what he thought, but that gave him pause. You? He wondered. Merlin, where did that come from? I almost said that I wanted Granger. But I don't want her. This whole blood loss thing must be getting to me.

A cool hand to his forehead made him jump. "What are you doing?" he snapped.

"Checking your temperature. I asked you what you wanted and you didn't say anything, you just had this glazed look in your eyes. I was worried you might have a fever, but it doesn't feel like it."

"I'm fine. I want a blueberry muffin," he decided.

"Okay," she said. "I'll get you some blueberry muffins." Granger pulled on her coat over her pajamas and brushed her bushy hair back from her face before she left.

--

"No, you've got to get out of here. Keep Harry safe, Ron." Hermione's face was pleading.

"But Herm—"

Hermione leaned forward and kissed Ron on the mouth. "Please, Ron, go. Keep him safe."

"Hermione…"

"Malfoy, get them out of here," she said angrily.

A hand on his shoulder was shaking Ron, but he wanted to stay in the dream, kissing Hermione for another hour, or even simply another minute. The dream refused to stick, however, and faded into the pale light of his and Harry's hotel room. Hermione was leaning over him but she backed up when he woke. "What is it, Hermione?" he mumbled, still imagining her lips on his.

"Malfoy's Dark Mark is burning. I'm going out to get food again, but I just wanted you to make sure he's all right. You don't have to go in there right now, but if you'll check in on him in a few minutes…?"

"Sure."

"Great. I'll be back in about twenty minutes, all right?"

Once Hermione left, Ron rolled over in his bed and tried to recapture his dream and the feeling of Hermione's mouth on his. When he found he was unable to do that, he was reassured by the small fact that the kiss had been another true dream and he would, eventually, feel that kiss in reality.

--

When he caught sight of the plane out the window, Malfoy stopped and stared. "Like a car? Granger, that's more like four buses!" It was a fairly small plane in comparison to some Hermione had been on, since flights to Tirana ( Albania's capital) weren't often in demand.

"Well, I was just trying to give you the right idea," she explained. "The gate's up ahead, you can look at the planes from there." Malfoy trailed along behind the three of them, still looking out at the planes. Ron was staring at them too, but with slightly less enthusiasm.

Forty-five minutes later they were buckling themselves into the seats on the plane. Hermione pulled out a book and began to read immediately. Harry and Ron both were looking out the window, while across the aisle Malfoy was making himself comfortable in his row, which was empty except for him.

The plane ride only lasted a few hours, during which Malfoy fell asleep, Ron complained a lot about having nothing to do (before eventually sleeping with his head on Hermione's shoulder), Harry brooded out the window, his fingers wrapped about the locket around his neck, and Hermione accomplished a lot of reading.

As they were getting off the plane, Malfoy said, "That was a lot smoother than the Knight Bus."

Hermione gave him a wry smile but didn't say anything. She'd forgotten about the Knight Bus—they probably could've reached Albania in thirty minutes to an hour instead of the four it had taken them. Then again, if the carts at Gringotts made her sick, considering the horror stories she'd heard, taking the Knight Bus would not end pleasantly. It would probably be best if she pretended it had been intentional.

They exited the airport and made their way to the parking garage, where Hermione enlarged her car back to its original size. Before they got into the car, the four double-checked that no one had seen the display of magic. Then they piled in and Hermione pulled out a map.

"You said he had been in Berat?" She asked Malfoy, who was seated next to her as always.

"Yeah. There's…the citadel and stuff…" he confirmed.

Hermione nodded. Voldemort would choose something like the archaic Berat Citadel. He seemed attracted to things that had a history, and Berat Citadel had existed for quite a long time.

It took about two hours for them to get to Berat, and then another twenty minutes before they found a hotel. Hermione roused the boys. They yawned as they entered the hotel, and it was up to Hermione to get three rooms for them. The boys went immediately to their rooms, leaving Hermione alone in the hall. With a sigh, she decided to be kind and give them all their rest, despite wanting to look at the Horcrux some more. She went to her room and stretched out on the bed to read.

It was near midnight when Hermione finally put down the book and switched off the light. If she had done so even 15 minutes earlier, she probably would have gotten a full night's sleep. Lightning streamed outside her window, flashing through the room. It was followed a few seconds later by a snarl of thunder.

Fear seeped into Hermione, flooding her with another slash of lightning and shout of thunder. She had always been frightened of lightning storms. It had been an irrational fear of hers since she was little. She got panicky and sometimes hysterical, especially if she was alone. At the next thrash of lightning, Hermione squeaked and clutched the blankets to herself. It'll be fine, she told herself. There's no need to be so—! Thunder growled at her, loud and angry. Hermione didn't even manage to finish the thought before she was out of bed and across the hall.

Timidly, Hermione knocked on Harry and Ron's door. She jumped at the sound of thunder and knocked harder. There was no answer. "Harry?" she asked through the door, knocking again. "Ron?"

The next burst of thunder nearly put Hermione in tears. Where were her boys? They wouldn't have gone out without saying something, would they? No, surely Harry and Ron wouldn't have left without telling her. But if they weren't out there, then why wouldn't they answer the door? What if they were out and one of them was struck by lightning!

With one last desperate try, Hermione pounded on the door. When they still didn't answer she turned back to her room in terror. If she had Harry and Ron with her, the storm would at least become bearable, but if she had to sit alone in her room with that storm outside…

Malfoy's door was right next to hers. She shuffled sideways toward it, considering. The ensuing thunderclap made up her mind and she knocked at his door. She stood, shaking, in the hallway for what seemed an eternity, and had even raised her hand to knock again when the door swung open. Malfoy blinked sleepily. "Yes?" he drawled.

"Can—can I come in?" Hermione stammered. For an answer, he opened the door wider and she slipped in beside him. "Thank you," she murmured. There was a moment when she thought her fear would pass, but he closed the door with a click behind her and she started; barely a second after, lightning snapped its impatience into the sky and thunder followed at its heels. Hermione cried out and for a sickening instant imagined Harry and Ron lying in the street, sizzling, burning, steaming in the rain before falling dead to the uncaring street.

Hermione lost it.

Before she had any idea what was happening, Hermione was sobbing. "Where are they, why didn't they answer my knocks?" she wailed miserably. "If they're out there, I'll skin them alive for making me worry so, I swear it," she said as her panicky fear turned into indignant rage. "If they're not out there, then I'll kill them as soon as I get my hands on them, I can't believe they'd do this to me. They probably think it's funny! Most likely, they're sitting in their room over steaming cups of tea, laughing at silly Hermione for being scared. It's not fair, why couldn't they have just opened the door for me?"

For the first time during her rant, she met Malfoy's eyes. The grey orbs were wide and alarmed, looking at her as if she'd gone mad. Perhaps she had. What if she had gone crazy? Her anxious and frustrated sobs ceased as she considered. How could she ever think that about Harry and Ron? They wouldn't be sitting there laughing at her. If anything, they would have jumped to her rescue the first moment she called out. Which only left the possibility that they were gone and out on the streets.

Hermione took a deep breath, then another. By the third, she could not keep calm anymore and the tears fell again wildly. "What if they're hurt," she whispered. "They might be dead, and I just said all kinds of mean things about them," she cried, looking at Malfoy beseechingly. He could not give her the forgiveness she asked for and shifted uncomfortably. They were still crammed together in the small hallway behind the door.

There was another flash of lightning and thunder howled as if commiserating with Hermione. She yelped and leaped sideways, bumping into Malfoy. He laughed, and before she could so much as turn to look at him, he had enfolded her in his arms. "I understand now," he said softly. "It's going to be okay. Storms come and go. Potter and Weasley are probably sleeping right through this. In fact, I'll bet they're snoring so loud they didn't even hear you knocking," his voice was reassuring, and despite her fear Hermione could almost smile at his joke.

Like a discarded garment his arms fell off of her. Malfoy put a gentle hand to her back and propelled her into his room. "Sit," he ordered. "I'll make us tea."

Confused by his sudden tenderness, Hermione plopped onto the bed. While the blond boy made tea, he conversed with her in a comforting tone. "The thing is, my mother isn't scared of much. Lightning storms, however, frighten the bloody hell out of her. I used to be terrified of them too, when I was a child. Mum was always there to comfort me, though. More often than not, she took me into the ballroom, which has no windows, and taught me how to dance. Sometimes she would read to me. Sometimes we would draw.

"I grew out of my fear when I was about ten. However, every time there was a lightning storm my mum would fetch me from my room and we would meet in the ballroom to do something. It's all just a clever distraction," he told her in a soft murmur. Sometime during his story he had handed her the tea, but she hadn't noticed. At the moment, she was too entranced by this fascinating boy who never stopped amazing her. At her scrutiny, Malfoy smirked and took a slow sip of his tea. "You didn't even notice those two lightning bolts during my story, did you?" he asked her. It was a question, or a comment, but he somehow made it an accusation.

Hermione turned back to her mug, frowning, and took a taste. It was a bit too sweet, and too hot, but she wasn't about to complain. Malfoy completely unnerved her—one moment he was silent and observant, the next disdainful and mean, and just as suddenly he would be kind and friendly. She put down her tea on a bedside table and stood, approaching the window with careful steps. The town below shimmered behind the wet glass, every light reflecting in puddles that danced in the rain. It was gorgeous beyond the meaning of the word. Lightning cut through the sky, making Hermione jerk back in surprise with a yell. Thunder rolled after it quickly. She shook, but held her ground.

Another bolt of lightning forked through the night. Her trembling increased and she stepped back as thunder followed it. Through a sudden dryness in her mouth, she managed to say, "I'm scared." As if the words could keep out the fear.

Malfoy frowned and then moved to stand beside her. "Turn," he ordered.

Hermione threw him a patronizing look.

The boy beside her sighed and then reached over to grab her shoulders. He turned her to face him and then slid his hands down her arms to grasp her hands. "Now," he told her. "Salsa isn't technically a ballroom dance, but it's certainly more entertaining than most of those. And it's fairly simple. So." He took her right hand and held it in his, placing her left one on his shoulder and his right on the side of her ribcage.

"When I step here, you…"

--

Draco woke up to several sharp knocks on his door. He rolled out of bed and rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Can't anyone bloody well knock on my door when I'm not asleep?"

Potter and Weasley stood outside his door. "What do you want?" Draco asked.

"Hermione's gone," Weasley blurted.

"No, she's not. You bloody idiots slept through the whole episode but there was a lightning storm last night and she freaked out. When she knocked and you two didn't wake up, she came to me." Draco smirked at them but sighed when he saw their expressions. The two boys looked so distraught he couldn't be mean to them. "She fell asleep in here." He opened the door wider to admit them and Weasley walked in, followed more cautiously by Potter.

"What did you do to her?" the redhead hissed.

"What?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Hermione would never just fall asleep in here when she has a room right next door," Weasley informed him. "What did you do?"

Draco smirked. "I did nothing. We were watching the telly and she fell asleep."

"I don't believe you."

The interrogation was beginning to annoy Draco. "Well if you want to wake her to ask I'm not going to stop you. She does look awfully tired, though." Weasley looked torn between waking her and acknowledging that she did look exhausted.

In the end, the redhead snapped, "I want to see her as soon as she's awake," and stormed out of the room.

Potter looked Draco in the eye. "If you've done anything to her…" he threatened.

Draco smirked but refused to rise to the bait as Potter followed Weasley out the door.

Hermione woke about five minutes after the Wonder Duo had left. "Want some more tea?" he offered her.

She accepted and he quickly brewed the beverage. "What time is it?" Granger asked. Draco shrugged, and she sighed. "Harry and Ron probably aren't even up."

"Actually, they were in here not to long ago, demanding to know what the hell I did to you. Weasley wanted to see you as soon as you woke up."

"I suppose I should go to them, then," Granger said, setting her cup on the table and getting off the bed.

Granger was almost all the way out the door before he asked, "Is it really as strange as all that, that you could fall asleep on my bed of your own accord?"

She began to turn to answer, then hesitated and stood in his doorway for a long minute. "No, Malfoy, I'm not sure it's that strange. I'll be back once I've spoken to them."

When she left, she didn't close the door all the way and he sat down on his bed with a sigh. "How do you make me never know what to say, Granger?" he asked the air around him. As expected, there was no answer and he sat back against his pillows to await her return.

--

Can you read my mind so easily
As the madness sets in
You must know that I'll follow you

--Snow Patrol, "Whatever's Left"