Chapter 17
The light in the room was dim, the sky outside a stark gray that was quickly fading to night. She'd awaken soon, he knew. He tried to push the thought from his mind, but he knew she was waiting there, in the dark recesses of his subconscious. When he closed his eyes, he could almost see her, rolling over in her sleep, her body sensing the evening's birth. She was resting somewhere beneath the house, somewhere damp.
Draco slipped his pants over his narrow thighs, yanking the zipper into place. He released a short growl when he looked down. Granger's clothing selection involved black on black, too formal to blend in with a crowd, be it muggle or magic, and the shoes were a size too small for his swollen foot. He remembered her own dress and realized that she must have taken the clothing from the same shop.
That put a smirk on his face, as he was certain she hadn't taken the time to withdraw money from the bank to pay for the items. Granger the thief. How absolutely laughable—what would your friends say?
He knew the thought was a mistake the moment he felt her movements become ridged. He watched the door. It opened two seconds later, the girl leaning against the frame. Hermione's face was pale, as expected, but her eyes were vivid, red from hunger and lost in her own memories.
She didn't address him, instead stepping towards the tacky vanity, pushing shards of the broken mirror away with the side of her foot. The vampire planted herself on the stool and hunched forward, looking decisively human.
"I sent my parents away," she said, grasping her hands together. She was staring out the window behind the wizard, as if looking for something.
"No 'how's the foot I broke'?" Draco inquired. "How about, 'I hope you were able to find something edible during the daylight hours'?"
Hermione didn't acknowledge his sarcasm but squinted in his direction.
Draco felt the sneer growing on his face. "Guess you have changed, Granger."
"Hermione," she corrected. She rolled one hand against her opposite palm, as if studying the strong flesh there. "Yes. I have, though I doubt you know it as well as you think. I didn't wear my personality on my sleeve, not like you." She paused. "You've changed, too."
Draco snorted, looking down at his clothes with distaste.
"Yes, I'm sure," he noted. "I was referring to your lack of the Gryffindor façade. And your feminine politeness, that's missing as well."
"Feminine politeness?" Hermione rolled her eyes. " I was referring to your half-assed sarcasm," she snapped. "I think you've folded a little, softened some. And over such a short period of time. Tut, tut." She smiled slightly. "I suppose enslavement does that to a person."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Draco noted. "I seem to recall a certain zealous fool preaching to us pure-bloods about elf rights not too long ago. Shouldn't you be parading for freedom to vampire victims?"
"I still think the elves deserve rights," Hermione replied. She started at him. "We'll find you a way out of this, Draco, even if you don't deserve it. You've got more of a chance that me."
Draco cleared his throat, deciding not to address the sudden tension in the room. He sat down on the bed across from her. "What were you saying about your parents?"
Hermione cocked her head, her eyes softening as she looked the wizard over.
Well, I suppose I know what a piece of meat feels like now. Draco snorted.
"I heard you think of the, Ron and Harry," Hermione sighed. "It made me remember what I'm missing. We made plans after last year. There are some things you might not know about your Dark Lord, things we discovered. . .around Dumbledore's death. He has weaknesses. Ron and Harry and I. . .we decided to seek them out, on our own." She shook her head. "Ron and I couldn't let Harry fight his on his own."
"Oh, Merlin," Draco sneered. "Please tell me there's something not about Scar-head in this story?"
Hermione frowned. "I was getting ready to leave with my friends. So I sent my parents away." She blinked, the back of her hand catching something on her cheek in a split second. "I took their memories and planted new ones. I put them in a temporary life where they don't have a daughter. Where magic isn't a part of their lives. No one knows that I sent them away, so no one will find them. I did it to save them. . .They would have wanted to help me, if they'd know that I planned on going on a suicide mission with my best friends. I couldn't allow that. And I certainly couldn't risk Death Eaters using them as leverage over me."
She stopped.
"I sent them away the day Sanguini caught me. How was that for good timing?"
Draco blinked, his brow furrowed in thought. "Well," he coughed, "that was actually rather . . . clever."
"Yes, I thought so," she smiled. She shook her head. "Anyhow, the point is, I made these preparations to go into hiding, to help Harry. I didn't make them in vain." She waved down at her body. "This new development isn't going to stop me. I won't let my friends face this war alone. We're going to help them."
"We?" Draco was on his feet again, throwing his weight to his left to get off of his sore foot. "You are mistaken if you think I'm going to go into hiding with your little friends. And, in case you haven't noticed, that 'new development' has left you somewhat dead. What makes you think your friends will still want you back?"
Hermione stood to face him, somehow imposing, even at her shorter height. "I worried about their acceptance as well, but I'm not concerned with that anymore. I've thought it over."
"You're an idiot," Draco hissed, "if you think they won't notice."
"I'm not an idiot, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "I know it won't be easy for them. Honestly, would you leave the people you love to die, just because they might not want your help anymore?"
Draco released an anxious breath. "I'm not going to be there when they reject you, Granger."
"Yes, you will," Hermione replied, "because we're helping them before I even fathom helping you. Consider yourself my servant until the day this war has ended."
Draco's eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Oh, fuck me. You can't be serious."
Her fingers curled around his shoulder and his eyes shot down in fear. He opened his mouth to stop her from squeezing any tighter but closed it again when he saw the urgency on her face. She was looking toward the hallway.
"Someone just apparated in," she whispered.
"The owners?"
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Let's not find out," she replied.
She pulled him to the window, jerking it up with a flick of her wrist. Draco straddled it, crawling out before she had a chance to pushing him from the cottage. She followed his movements, gesturing towards the woodland surrounding the little homestead when she landed on the ground.
Draco nodded in agreement, slipping through the trees as quietly as he could. The grayness of the sky was now found only in the clouds surrounding the bright moon above. Night had come quickly since he'd last looked out the window, and the darkness provided a thick cover once he was in the shadowed tree line. A few yards away from the cottage, he slid down into a dry ravine, wincing when his bad foot hit a root. He ignored the shot of pain, hunching down out of sight instead of releasing a stream of curses.
A few seconds later, Hermione hopped down and landed quietly beside him.
What did you see? Draco asked.
Brown curls bobbed around her neck as she shook her head. She paused a moment, her ear tilted toward the cottage. The vampire suddenly straightened.
"They're gone," she noted. "They probably think we apparated away. It's someone who obviously doesn't know about our little wand situation."
"Who?"
Hermione's gaze narrowed slightly. "Well, if I knew that, I'd tell you, now wouldn't I." She looked over his form. "Your foot hurts."
"Funny story, some idiot broke it."
"Nicely done, Malfoy, but my question was leading somewhere." She paused. "I'll have to carry you if we're going to get anywhere fast. Last time, I slung you over my shoulder, but I'm not sure what the most comfortable mode of transportation is while you're conscious."
Draco groaned. "Why are we in a hurry? Can't we walk?"
"You'd stumble too much. Someone might hear you," Hermione replied. "Now, I thought perhaps you could ride on my back."
Draco shook his head quickly. A girl obviously doesn't realize what a bad idea that is. "Absolutely not." He thought he saw a smirk on her face. Or perhaps she just likes screwing with my head.
"Fine," Hermione answered curtly. "I'll carry you like a child then. It seems to be the only feasible way. Don't worry. It shouldn't take us long to get to Hogsmeade."
Draco raised a brow. "Then you've come to your senses?"
"I know of a place we can hide."
"Of course."
The wizard tried to brush down the blush on his face when he was forced to put his arm around her neck. She lifted him up with ease, grasping him under his knees and behind his back.
"This won't take long," she reiterated.
Draco didn't realize she was moving at first. He squinted his eyes against the brush of cool air against his face, enjoying the sensation. It reminded him of quidditch more than he expected, and he felt his body lose its tenseness somewhat when he related the travel to his favorite sport. In all honesty, it felt less like being carried than being side-along apparated several times in a row.
"Are you using magic?" Draco asked.
Hermione nodded. "I think so. It's as if every step lengthens on its own. I hadn't really had the time to think about it until now."
As fascinating as he found this information, Draco was distracted from his thoughts by the sudden appearance of a large house before him. In the dark, it was somewhat hard to recognize at first, especially since he had always seen it from the front when he'd visited Hogsmeade Village in the past.
"The Shrieking Shack?" When Hermione sat him down, Draco shook his head. "Isn't it haunted?"
"Long story, shortened, no." Hermione grinned. "But the rumor should keep people from visiting it during the daytime."
"I seem to remember students coming to see this place. I imagine the village children do the same."
"But never enter it," Hermione noted. "Which is why it's a good stopping point while we come up with a plan of action. Let's go."
The two walked down the hill, in silence. The back door seemed to be bolted shut. Knowing Hermione wouldn't have a problem with it, Draco walked away from her, trying to stare around the boards over the dirty windows of the old house.
"So you're set on this whole 'helping your friends' thing?" Draco muttered.
He only half heard her reply over the sound of her the lock being ripped off the back door. He'd reached the corner of the house and peaked around it. There was a clear path at the front of the house that led back toward s the rest of the village. In the distance he could see movement, someone likely heading home after a night of visiting the haunted shack.
"Granger, there's people," Draco said, stepping out from the back of the house. "Probably children, like I said."
Hermione grabbed his arm, pulling him back into hiding. Draco grimaced at her touch, pulling free and throwing a fist against her arm to keep her from advancing. Before he could move back , she yanked onto his shirt, shoving him through the open doorway into the shack. Draco slipped to the floor, slamming his knee on a board that had been nailed to the door. The metal tip slipped into his pants, catching the cloth and slicing open the soft flesh above the curve of his knee.
"Shit," he snapped, grabbing hold of his leg. He pulled his hand away. It was dark in the shack, too dark to see the stain, but he could see the outline of liquid on his pale fingers. Blood.
His eyes darted up to the shadow over the doorway. The moon was behind the vampire, casting her curving form into a silhouette of black. But Draco could make out the reflection of her teeth in the faint light and the glow of red in her eyes.
Hermione's voice was heavy when it broke the silence between them.
"You need to run," she whispered.
End Notes: Sorry for the massive amount of dialogue in this chapter. I hope you enjoyed this mini-cliffy. Hermione hungry. Hermione see bleeding Draco. Yum.