No matter what we breed,
We still are made of greed,
This is my kingdom come,
This is my kingdom come.
—"Demons", Imagine Dragons.
.
Draco didn't sleep.
Partly because he couldn't stand the thought of being vulnerable to a fully armed Hermione Granger.
Partly because he was on edge about the danger he'd just put himself, his mother and even her in.
He was so fucking exhausted, it was downright diabolical that sleep refused to sweep him away into subconsciousness. Then again, it was a relief to not be tormented by his recurring nightmares. Thinking about it now, he'd rather be an insomniac.
Grey eyes stared at the tent ceiling. It was a colourless colour, one that reminded him of nothing but occupied his mind enough to not think of everything else.
He wasn't sure what time it was; three in the morning or ten in the evening. No, it was all a blur. Too blurry to fathom coherent thoughts. Even if he could, he knew they would drift to the girl currently asleep on the floor. The way she pretended to actually give a fuck about his bleeding hand which he easily fixed with a healing charm, unnecessarily irked by her little act—
"Malfoy?"
Ignoring her, he tried to fake slumber.
He'd decided the only way the days would pass without them ripping each other's throats out, was to completely disregard her existence and pray that she would do the same. But it was as if she couldn't keep her goddamn mouth shut. He couldn't figure out what in Merlin's name possessed her to try and speak to him, but he wanted to crush that urge with his bare hands.
What was he even thinking when saving—freeing—no, taking her in her time of despair—oh, he was fucking pathetic.
"Malfoy, I know you're awake." She spoke louder this time, irritably.
Maybe if he squeezed his eyes shut tight enough, she'd piss off.
"Malfoy, I swear on Godric, you better answer—"
"—Oh, for fuck's sake!" He groaned loudly, unable to stand her annoyingly soft voice any longer. He jerked, sitting up on the bed so he could scowl at her. "What? What do you want, Mudblood?"
His hair was tousled, though slightly dirty with dust as some wisps fell over his forehead into his startlingly grey eyes. He hadn't even changed his clothes to his usual sleepwear, too distraught and elated to go into routines.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, as if ignorant of the face that she had woken him from his nonexistent sleep.
If she was going to just fucking sit there, and not elaborate on why she decided to push him to the brink of suicide, he was going to get rid of the pest which was Hermione Granger, really soon.
"Do you hear that?"
"Yes. It's the never-ending drone of a Gryffindor Mudblood." Sneering, he rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to be a little more specific—"
"—Those sounds coming from outside the tent." She looked towards the entrance of the tent, clenching the wand in her hand tightly so she didn't lash out at the infuriating git she had the pleasure of being rescued by.
"You're not serious. You think I wouldn't notice bleeding noises from—"
There was a rustling in the trees outside, stopping Draco's words short. He sat up, ears tuned to hear any intruders. Ignoring her and the smug smile that was very likely to be found settled on her lips; his gaze turned to walls of the tent.
It didn't matter if it was an enemy or the wind; he was already lacing on his shoes.
"What—"
"Get up, we're moving." He told her vaguely, throwing the covers back over the mattress and digging out his bag from under the bed before stepping down the steps at a brisk pace.
She scrambled to collect her things, but he stopped her with a raised hand, indicating he wasn't giving her time. Defiant as ever, Hermione pulled on her jacket and shouldered her bag before following him out.
Barely out the drape, she watched as the tent behind her shrunk and wrapped itself up to a compact, handy case which he pocketed swiftly.
He lit his wand and led the way without a glance in her direction. After a minute of catching up with his long strides, she stumbled over some rocks, unbalanced momentarily. He cast an irritated glare over his shoulder. It was in the middle of the night, for Heaven's sake. He was delusional if he expected athleticism.
"Malfoy, where are we go—"
"Maybe if you would shut up, you'd realise there is no 'where'." He spun on her suddenly, and she collided with him. Stepping back, he brushed his clothes off. "We're in the middle of the fucking forest, Granger. We're going wherever the bloody hell we can."
"You know what I mean, Malfoy." She crossed her arms, mostly because the chill had seeped through to her skin. "You have a map. I know you have some sort of plan. Otherwise this would completely—"
"—Ridiculous?" He laughed shortly, emptily. "Welcome to the real world, Princess."
"I don't know what delusion you're operating under, but I am thoroughly aware of the real world, Ferret." Hermione spat at him, tired of his attitude. "It's death and pain and war."
"How poetic." Said Draco dryly. He turned away from her again, unable to stand her bright eyes any longer.
She grabbed his elbow, waiting until he had to turn back around. "Stop avoiding the question."
"Don't fucking touch me, filth."
Her grip tightened before quickly loosening and jerking shoved past him, wand lit up ahead of her.
He watched her disappear into the trees.
.
.
The rest of the night — or was it day — was spent in silence.
Draco kept them moving through what seemed to be an infinite forest. It was an act of suspiciousness and fear, but his childhood had morphed him into someone incapable of trust. Even in himself.
The night passed on to day without him speaking a word to the girl that escaped along with him. The sun seeped through branches above, though the vision of the sky was cut into irregular strips by cross-linking branches. The distance his brisk pace and long strides made her have to practically jog behind him. Hermione had realised the stamina he pulled out endlessly was understandable as soon as she remembered that he was Slytherin Quidditch Seeker and honorary Captain. It was soon dawn when Draco decided to show mercy and give themselves a break.
She didn't know what day it was, let alone the time. Time was an irrelevant backdrop to the life of a fugitive.
He slumped down onto a nearby rock, tipping his head back to rest on the bark behind him. Catching her breath, she leaned against an opposite tree, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself not to see red.
Unzipping his bag and plucking out a flask, he took a large swig.
Hermione tried to drag her eyes away, but her throat was so dry and rough she found herself staring.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her over the bottle, before swallowing hard and pulling the rim from his moistened lips.
Wordlessly, he held the flask out for her.
She glared. "Careful, Malfoy. I'm sure you wouldn't want my filth all over your drink."
"Just take it, Granger."
"I'd rather not contaminate you, Ferret."
He set the flask down, furrowing his eyebrows. "Grow up for a fucking minute, Granger—"
"How dare you?" She seethed, swallowing to get her voice less hoarse. "I should grow up? You're the one who can't let go of childish prejudices—"
"It's really more of a fact." He growled through clenched teeth, standing up slowly. "Your blood is dirty. You are filth. You are below me in every way, understand Mudblood?"
"YOU SELF-RIGHTEOUS BASTARD—"
"It's time you come to terms with your status, don't you think?" His voice adopted a cold, empty tone she felt prickle down her spine.
She stomped up to him, so close it was getting harder to breathe. "Listen here, Malfoy. I am a Mudblood and I am proud."
He knew a thing or two about pride.
"You? You are the filth here. You are everything wrong with the world, and you disgust me, Malfoy." She had this pent up for far too long; it was all rushing out in a wave of pain and frustration.
He didn't know who he was, what he was anymore. What could she possibly know.
"So fuck with me," She growled, digging her heel into his toes. He tried not to double in pain or let a wince of weakness escape. "And I swear to Merlin, I won't hesitate in spreading my filth."
She wouldn't touch him, he was sure.
Her glossy eyes shone brightly in the morning light, specs of anger and determination evident in them as much as his reflection.
Was he sure?
He saw himself scowling, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched tightly. His father. He looked like his father.
And what a disgusting reflection it was.
.
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot of this fanfiction belongs to JK Rowling.
I am seriously loving this dark stuff. I feel like I am transitioning to the dark side. I hear they have cookies?
A very short chapter, I know, I know. But I thought it would be best to end it where I did.
The response I've gotten from you wonderful people so far has been ridiculously encouraging. Thank you.
Drop me a review on what you thought of this teeny-tiny chapter, mmkay.
Always,
— LiveLoveLaugh.