And it finds me,
The fight inside is coursing through my veins,
And it's raging,
The fight inside is breaking me again.
—"Nothing and Everything", Red.
.
"You're bleeding."
The words sliced through the eery silence, with the occasional crackling of branches under their feet, or an owl hooting in the distance. She was attempting to converse, much to Draco's chagrin.
According to the pocket watch ticking away consistently in his robes, they had been walking for fourty minutes, now. Fourty minutes into the forest, and the weight which had the muscles in his shoulders strained so much that they were hunched; started to fade. It wasn't long before he felt his previous, confident persona creep back to his exterior.
He pretended not to have heard, but the feeling of her eyes boring into the back of his head made him give in reluctantly.
"Yes." Was the curt reply, when he noticed the blood pooling in his hand. He wiped it on his trousers, but the wound seemed to be open and gushing.
Draco halted, watching the trees. Searching, searching for the first one he'd marked.
Years ago, when he was but a young child, one of the House Elves had accompanied him to the grounds. He remembered darting off with a mischievous glint in his young eyes, and finding this flock of looming trees. He had used his wand and etched his initials into the particularly rough bark of a tree, before he was dragged back to the Manor to be reprimanded.
Using that innocent act of a toddler, Draco had routed his freedom.
This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment escape.
There was a small clearing, big enough to camp in, right after the first tree — that he remembered stumbling upon.
But, where?
In the dark of the night, with only their wands as a light source, it was quite difficult to find one tiny inscription amongst the rough wood of the countless trunks surrounding him.
"This," Her voice sounded over the rattling of leaves and crunching of stones under their feet. "Cannot be a coincidence..."
He turned to the direction of her voice, holding his wand out as a candle. She was by a large trunk, running her fingers over a section of the bark in interest.
She had found it. A piece of his childhood lay under her fingers.
Running his nail over it, once reaching her and her subsequently backing off, he decided where they should head.
"Go straight."
"What?" She asked, her plaited hair flipping behind her shoulders as she faced him with confusion clear in her bright eyes.
"You heard me, Granger." With that, he brushed past her, ignoring the pang that shot through his chest at their momentary proximity, and stalked forward.
"You're still bleeding, Malfoy."
"Don't pretend to care."
He ducked under a branch barrier, appearing on the other side with quite the spring in his step. He was out. He was finally out. He was going to get killed, but fuck, he was out.
Hermione followed suit, keeping up with ease. Her eyes continued to travel down to his bleeding palm. He fisted the hand.
"No, that'll make it worse." She gasped, watching drops of blood dot the dark forest floor. The bluish tint of their glowing wands only made the blood look luminescent against the darkest aspects of nature.
He spun on her, his fair skin almost glowing in the moonlight. "Will you shut the fuck up?"
"Not until you let me see that." She gestured to his hand, something south of concern etching onto her face. Her voice was starting to stomp on his last nerves.
"Fucking brilliant, Mudblood." He drawled, turning away from her and winding through the towering branches. "Act like the all-caring, all-knowing princess everyone claims you are."
"Well, you're doing a bloody good job of acting the obnoxious, idiotic bastard everyone knows you are."
He'd forgotten he was speaking to someone capable of an intellectual argument. Anger pumped through his veins, fuelling his glare and signature scowl.
"Stop fucking talking to me like you know me, Mudblood." He hissed, leering over her. "You do not know me."
Hermione stood her ground, facing him off in the middle of nowhere. "I know you saved my life—"
"I did no such thing—"
"Yes, you—" Her voice rose with his, every word getting louder.
"Do not tell me what I did and did not do, Mud—"
"Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood!" She screamed at him, hysterical already. "If you thought so lowly of me, Malfoy, you would have never saved—"
"Stop saying that! I have never—"
"What? Thought about someone else, for once?" Their fight echoed through the night, and he could only pray that they were off the grid. "Well, I hate to break it to you, Malfoy, but you saved. My. Life."
"AND I WILL END IT RIGHT NOW—"
Hermione could see his snowy hair glowing in the moonlight, and she tried not to let it distract her as she stood him off. "Try me."
He had her against a tree in moments. "You little bitch. I could kill you in second." He sneered down at her. "Worse in two."
Her heart pounded, the blood pumping in her ears making him realise that she was scared. Anger and traces of fear swirled within her hazel irises.
"You're lucky I didn't leave you there to rot."
Tears stung her eyes, but she withheld them, finding her voice. "I hate you."
Draco stepped back, instantly chastising himself for getting so close to her. Brushing his robes off with a sneer, as if her closeness had somewhat infected him, he turned away briskly and focused on the plan. The plan. The route. Anything but that Mudblood Granger.
"Why did you do it?"
He'd heard it, clear as day. But, choosing to stare blankly at the circle of light tracing his wand and ignore her question, was the only way he could think clearly.
He would ignore her. Her and her fucking questions.
Because he had no answers.
.
.
The Undetectable Extension Charm was one Hermione was familiar with.
Apparently one Malfoy had mastered, she realised as she stepped into the tent he had pitched with a flick of his wand. It was terribly dark outside, but inside, she saw lanterns light up the interior.
Draco blinked repeatedly, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light.
The heaviness of his eyelids struck him then. The last few months had involved throwing himself into this escape, planning, checking and rechecking every slight angle. Never in his hours of pretending to give a fuck about his father's wishes or acting as if the mark on his arm didn't make him want to kill himself repeatedly; had he thought he would be out. Sure, it had been a fantasy. One couldn't allow themselves to start believing in fantasies, however.
Hermione scoped her surroundings, almost bare but more than bearable.
Almost colourless, the tent's only hues were from the lanterns lining the makeshift roof. The lack of a homely atmosphere was not surprising; his house had seemed like a cage to her, void of life or laughter. So unlike the Weasley tent she had awed at earlier in her life. However, to her intrigue, there were a few practical items of furniture dotted around the large, open space. There was no furniture on the ground level, only a large space of cold, hard flooring.
Three parts of the tent were uplifted from the wood paneled floor, at a slightly higher level with a few steps for ascending. Rooms.
One held a large table with a wooden chair tucked into it. There was a lamp, drawers that seemed empty and a small, empty bookshelf she found herself eyeing up longer than everything else. There was another 'room', where rested what she suspected was a Queen sized, mahogany bed and a plain wooden chest. Lastly, one seemed to be the makeshift bathroom, with a sink, toilet and a pool startlingly similar to the Prefect pool at Hogwarts.
Nothing of privilege or leisure, except of course the pool and furniture spotted around. He only had to live for himself. And for one, this seemed enough. Enough to prevent himself from turning insane, but also enough to be a hidden safe haven of a privileged boy.
Draco wordlessly drew the curtains for the entrance, charming it so it wouldn't open from the outside and shielding it with the trusty Disillusionment charm. Trying not to stumble or pass out from exhaustion, he ignored the girl completely, walking past her and onto the room which seemed the most like a study. He dropped his bag onto the desk with a loud clatter, not even cringing at the noise as he unzipped and unlatched the various pockets.
Quills and ink pots, parchments rolled up and in various sizes were strewn across the wood in seconds. Spell and potions books were shoved into the bookshelf. She even saw him pull out a state-of-the-art Firebolt and place it by the chair.
Whilst he was unpacking loudly, now throwing clothes into the chest in the 'bedroom', Hermione wondered if she should run.
Run, and go where?
What she had to come to terms with was that she wasn't a prisoner. She was a runaway, like him. And she couldn't run from someone who quite literally saved her life, however much of an evil bastard he might be.
It was too late to do anything else, and even though she was starving, she started to shrug off her jacket and drop it onto the floor.
His head snapped towards her at the sound of metal buttons hitting the hardwood.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Glaring, she bit out. "I think I'm going to sleep."
"There's no bed for you."
She crouched to the floor, folding her jacket up until it was passably rectangular, feeling his eyes bore holes into her skull the whole time. She pulled off her bag in a swift motion, and it rattled with the echo of various items inside.
"I don't need a bed." Hermione said quietly, unzipping her hoodie, quite gritty and dirty after her escape. She didn't take it off, remembering her tiny, beaded bag by her foot and reaching out to snatch it into her hands.
He had appeared in front of her. He lightly kicked the purse, and she looked up with a scowl.
"What's in the bag?" Draco demanded.
"None of your business." She stated, standing up and taking the purple pouch with her. She fisted it in her hand.
"Give me the bag, Granger."
Most of the items she used the bag to hold were with Harry and Ron. The cloak, Perkin's tent, the sword, their change of clothes. She'd given it to them before she had been captured, just in case they would be taken off her. They didn't agree, but she had insisted. She didn't have much to hide. Harry and Ron could go about finding the remaining Horcruxes without her.
And without her, they will.
"I told you, Malfoy. It's none of your business." She hissed at him, so easily irked by him. He expected everything to be handed to him on a silver platter, and that was certainly not what he was getting with her.
He stepped closer, muttering dangerously low. "I will tell you one more time, Mudblood. Give me the bag, or I will take it myself."
She faced him off for one, two, three long moments.
Sighing, Hermione shoved past him and went to the desk, where she started unloading her supplies. Draco followed through, bracing his hands on the back of the chair, watching her carefully as she reached inside the dainty purse.
A small bottle of dittany. Polyjuice. A pair of extra jeans, a thick sweatshirt, a long sleeved top and a dress. Unable to help it, the image of her walking down the steps, clothed in that stupidly bright dress entered and stayed in his mind. There was more, however. Some robes, and then an endless pile of books.
Spellman's Syllabary; The Monster Book of Monsters; The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts; Break with a Banshee; An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe; Secrets of the Darkest Art and, of course, Hogwarts: A History.
"Merlin," He breathed, running a finger down the various titles. "You carry around a library."
"You're not far off." She said instantly, eyeing his bookshelf that seemed all too empty.
He looked up at her from his position leaning down towards the books; and she at him. They'd found common ground.
No.
Blinking, he narrowed his eyes and pushed himself away. "That's all?"
In reply, she tipped the bag over and shook it over the table. Nothing came out, proving her point.
"That's all."
He nodded once, turning away and stalking away. With a curse under her breath, she started to place everything back into her endless purse. Some of it would come in handy to him, that was for sure.
After thinking it through ten times, she decided to place the bag in one of the desk's drawers.
"Your turn." She called out to him, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.
He turned back to her and sneered. "What?"
"Oh, you heard me Malfoy. Let me see what's inside your bag."
Scoffing, he rolled his eyes. She was insane. "Don't even think about it, Granger."
"It's only fair."
"You're going to pull some 'fairness' bullshit on me?" He almost laughed, picking up his bag and shoving it under the bed. "Get to sleep, Mudblood. Oh, and the wand." He held his hand out expectantly.
"No." She grit out through clenched teeth. He knew just how to get under her skin. "I need it for—"
"—killing me?"
"—protection."
He stalked towards her. "Don't argue with me—"
"I will do whatever I please—"
"Then why don't you fuck off—"
"Trust me, there's nothing stopping me from leaving you here to die."
"Leaving me? I'm fine by myself. Better, even. You won't survive alone. Why, you don't even have anywhere to go." He smirked, and there was only coldness and hatred in the gesture. "Your precious Pothead and Weasel left you. They left you, Mudblood. Looks like they really don't care, afterall."
Tears pooled behind her eyes. Clenching her jaw tightly, she made sure they didn't dare to escape. She wasn't going to show weakness, not in front of him. Pulling out the wand his mother gave her, she pointed it at him. He didn't show any emotion, his expression collected and cold as usual.
She reached him, pressed the tip of the wand to his chest and growled the next few words. "Come near me, and I'll kill you."
"You little—"
"Or have you forgotten how good I am with a wand?" She poked the wand further into his skin. His eyes widened just that little fraction. But she noticed. "Thought so."
She set up on the floor, her head propped up with her jacket, her hoodie unshed and working as a blanket. She clutched the wand in her hand tightly, and he knew she wouldn't let it go even in the deepest of sleeps. Turning her body away from him, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to scream.
Draco seethed, sitting by the foot of the bed and lacing his fingers together in front of him.
He stifled a scream.
.
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot of this fanfiction belongs to JK Rowling.
Pwoah. The amount of reviews I've gotten already. Really blew me away, they did. I will reply to them as soon as I can, once these blasted exams are over and done with. Honestly, I wrote this chapter as quickly as I could so I wouldn't keep you waiting too long.
Those of you who also read ABAB, don't fret. I've not forgotten that story. In fact, I don't think I am capable of forgetting it. I'll update it as soon as I can.
Remember, this will not, by any means, be story-accurate. Just keep that in mind before you come charging at me with a sword, alright?
Again, if you have any questions; talk to me. Trust me, I won't bite.
Always,
—LiveLoveLaugh.