The elderly Muggle that Draco had spoken to on the telephone came by later that morning to collect payment. He was a small man with a weathered face, an easy smile and perched atop his head, a black beret. He was pleased with Draco's French (as well as his cash payment) and chatted with him briefly.
The man left and Draco decided to head into town. As was his habit, he retrieved his wand and searched his clothing for a place to keep it. Unfortunately, the only place was his back pocket and Draco did not think that it would be wise to have it so visible.
He decided that it would be best to leave the wand behind. He dare not use it for fear of its magic being detected. For a brief moment he contemplated breaking the slender wooden rod in two but he could not bring himself to do it. Besides, if there was an emergency it was best to have access to it. He was still a wizard, after all!
The town was a bit of a walk down a dusty, dirt road. Draco was hungry, grumpy and wondered how Muggles survived without magic. It was damn inconvenient having to walk when it would have been so much easier to Apparate. Better yet, having a couple of House Elves to do the shopping, cooking and cleaning. He imagined Hermione's reaction to that idea and grinned to himself.
The town was quite small making it easy to find food and other supplies. There was a shop that carried clothing though the selection was rather limited. Draco was not fond of the idea of wearing Muggle clothing but the idea of wearing the same clothes for a third day was even more unappealing.
Despite the limited selection, Draco ended up with an armful of clothes. After a quick calculation, he decided perhaps he'd best put back a few items. Even though he had been able to get a hefty sum for the precious stones, he knew the money would not last for long. Who would have ever thought a Malfoy could be fruggle?
He knew Hermione would need clothing as well and picked a few items, guessing at her size. Fortunately, there was little in the way of tailored clothing. On his return walk he noticed a book store and paused outside for a moment, he knew Hermione loved books and besides, he would need something to do with his time.
The small shop had very few copies written in English, not that Draco knew the books anyway as they had all been written by Muggles. However, one title intrigued him, The Lord of the Flies. He decided he'd give that a try and chose second book, something called Madame Bovary as well in case he didn't like the first.
When he returned to the little cottage, he was not surprised to find the door to Hermione's room still closed. He left the bag which contained the items he bought for her outside her door.
It had been two days since Hermione confronted Draco and she was still sequestered in her bedroom.
There had been a few times Draco could hear muffled crying and wondered if he ought to check on her. Once, he went so far as to stand before her closed door, about to knock, only to turn away after a moment.
What would he say to her? He had no idea. He was surprised she hadn't left. She was free to go anytime she wanted and where ever she cared to.
The sound of water roused Draco from his slumber. It was mid afternoon and he had fallen asleep on the sofa while reading. It's about bloody time Granger got out of bed, he thought groggily. He stretched, picked up the book which had fallen to the floor and continued to read.
He would never admit it to anyone but he was enjoying the story. Some time had passed when he realised that Hermione still had not emerged from the bathroom. A sense of foreboding crept up his spine. He rose from the sofa and rapped on the loo door. He was answered by the sound of a great splash of water.
"Granger?"
She did not answer but he could hear quiet sobbing from inside. Bloody hell.
"I'm coming in," he warned and opened the door slowly. There was water all over the tiled floor. He found Hermione hunched over in a tubful of water wearing her pink dress. She had her arms wrapped around her legs, head resting on bent knees, and was shivering and sobbing.
"What's happened?" he asked, clearly confused.
"I c-can't d-do it!" she sobbed.
"What?"
She looked up at him. "Will you help me?" she asked.
"Help you with what?" he didn't understand.
"H-hold me under"
"What!?" he shouted, stunned by her request.
"Please, Draco! I can't do it!" she continued, hysterical.
He reached into the tub and pulled the rubber stopper. The water was cool. "Merlin," he mumbled to himself. He ignored her protests, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. Awkwardly, he managed to lift her from the tub and carried her to her bed. She sat upon the edge, shivering, as water dripped on the floor.
She simply stared ahead, her eyes blank. They sat in silence for several moments before she spoke.
"They're dead," she whispered, "Ron and Harry. I'll never see them again."
A part of Draco wanted to confess that he had been there; that he had seen Ron laying on the green grass while Hermione cried over his body. But how could he admit that?
"Who'll stop Voldemort now?" she asked.
"I don't know," Draco answered honestly.
She clutched the towel around her body. "Why didn't you leave me?" she asked.
"Because," he paused. "Because, I've see enough death. So stop asking me to do you in, alright? I'm not going to do it."
"I thought you hated us mudbloods," she challenged him.
"I don't know what I think any more. I just wanted to get out."
"Why?"
He did not answer right away. In his mind he saw his mother struck with the killing curse, he saw the innocent face of the little girl at the Weasley's wedding, Hermione writhing on Mangela's examination table, his own fear "
Draco?"
"There were a lot of reasons." He stood and went to the door, picking up the bag of clothing from the hall. "These are for you." He set the bag next to Hermione and left the room, closing the door behind him.
She peeked inside the bag and pulled out a piece of clothing, then another and another. She wondered where he found the clothes. Had he transformed them? She peeled off her wet dress off and tossed it aside, planning to burn it later. After she dried off she found a dress and pulled it on over her head.
She examined herself in the mirror that hung beside the wardrobe. The dress was a lovely shade of blue. It hung loosely on her thin form and Hermione was horrified at her gaunt eyes. She turned away and removed the rest of the clothing from the bag. She was surprised to find a small paperback inside. She picked it up to see the cover. She smiled, despite herself.
She returned to the loo and discovered Draco had placed a towel on the floor to soak up the water. She gazed at the empty tub for a moment. She had just wanted to escape. The sadness in her gut was too much too handle. She squeezed her eyelids shut, determined not to cry again, but tears still fell.
She had filled the tub, turning both faucets to fill it as quickly as possible. She stepped inside the water when it was only half full and she gasped at the coolness. She forced herself into the water and sat, arms curled around her legs. She shivered as she watched the water fill to tub. Once it reached near the top, she turned the water off and silence filled the small room.
She lay back and the water soon enveloped her. She closed her eyes and held her breath instinctively. Her hands splayed against the smooth sides of the tub and she felt her lungs demand air. Just take a breath, she told herself calmly. But she could not.
She struggled to hold herself under the water but she was not in complete control of her body. Despite the cool logical of her mind and the pain in her heart, her body would not allow her to breath in water.
She began to panic as her chest burned.
She sat up suddenly, water splashing over the rim and onto the floor. She gasped for breath and then slammed her hand upon the tub rim in frustration. Immediately she forced herself back under the water and tried again but it was if some force would not allow her to succeed; no matter how much she thought she wanted it, her body would force her from the water.
She tried again and again until she was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Granger?"
Hermione returned to the present moment and glanced at her reflection in the small mirror hanging above the sink. He had saved her again. She found a comb inside a cabinet and began to remove the tangles from her hair. It took her several minutes to work them out. When she was done, hair littered the floor. She picked up the broken pieces and placed them in the bin. Then she plaited her wet hair to keep it from becoming such a tangled mess in the future.
She found Draco lounging on the sofa, reading. She sat down in one of the chairs across from the sofa, the paper back in her hand.
"Thank you," she said in a quiet voice.
He glanced over at her and nodded before turning back to his book. Hermione leaned back in the chair, opened her book and began to read. Draco watched from the corner of his eye for a moment. He thought she looked almost normal, sitting there with a book in her hand.
The blue dress looked different on her, pretty even. He noticed she had plaited her hair and realised he had never seen her wear it like that before. He thought it flattered her face, though she was a bit too thin. Hermione must have sensed his gaze for she looked up from her book and their eyes met for a brief moment before Draco turned back to his story.
Draco was startled awake by screams. Death Eaters! He grabbed his wand, heart thumping inside his ribs, and rushed to Hermione's room. He found her alone, sitting in her bed, wide eyed and trembling.
"Granger?"
"I had a dream," she answered.
It seemed that since her mind had let go of notions of escaping reality, it was forcing her to look closely at it. Her dreams had grown steadily worse over the last few days since she had emerged from her cocoon. She dreamed of Mangela finding her and taking her back to his lab for more experiments.
She dreamed of Death Eaters striking down everyone she loved one by one at Bill and Fleur's wedding.
She would wake sweat soaked, her limbs twisted in the sheets and panicked until she realised it had only been a dream. Tonight was the first time she had cried out. She woke to find Draco standing in the doorway, wearing only his shorts, chest heaving and his wand in hand.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked awkwardly.
"Yes," she lied.
He nodded and turned to leave. Suddenly afraid at being left alone, she called out to him. She was almost embarrassed to ask, afraid he would refuse, irritated that she had woken him up in the middle of the night. "Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?"
He was slightly annoyed at the rude awakening but he could hardly begrudge the girl; he had his share of nightmares. He didn't answer but simply took a seat on the chair in the corner of the room.
Hermione lay back and closed her eyes.
The soft moonlight illuminated her face and Draco watched as her features relaxed. Once he had found her unattractive, even repulsive, but now he couldn't see either. Her features were delicate, feminine, even beautiful. He studied her nose, cheeks and lips, staying long after she had fallen asleep. Even her hair seemed different, softer. He had the strongest urge to touch it. It was at that point he decided he'd better leave before he acted upon the impulse.
Hermione managed to sleep through the rest of the night until the morning sun woke her. She rose before Draco and explored the simple cottage. The memory of their travels was still quite fuzzy and she still couldn't quite believe that Draco Malfoy had helped her; he had saved her life.
Outside, Hermione discovered the overgrown garden of wild flowers and plucked a few. She placed them in a vase she found in the kitchen and made a breakfast with eggs, bread, oranges sliced into quarters and coffee. Draco was roused by the smells and found the table set for two.
"What's this?"
"I thought it was high time I showed you some gratitude," she explained.
He smiled, taking a seat at the small wooden table. They ate in silence, unsure of how to converse.
Draco enjoyed the food. He had bought the eggs and coffee but didn't have a clue how to prepare them. He was suddenly thankful Hermione Granger had grown up Muggle.
Hermione had started reading The Lord of the Flies, having finished Madame Bovary. She read well into the night until her eyelids became heavy. She placed the book upon the bed side table and pulled the cord of the old lamp. Darkness filled the room.
Usually she found it stressful to be in a darkened room. It reminded her of the dungeon she had been forced to live in. It was one of the reasons why she prefered to sleep with the bedroom door open; allowing more moonlight into the room. Besides, with the door closed, she felt imprisoned.
Tonight she was too tired to give the darkness any thought. She was glad of the sleepiness for it meant that she would fall asleep quickly and her mind wouldn't wander to things she'd rather not think of.
She slipped underneath the covers and closed her eyes. She was asleep almost at once.
She wasn't sure how long she had slept when she was awakened by the sound of her name being called.
"Draco?" she answered. Who else would be calling her?
There was no answer. She called him again, louder. Where was he? She left her bed and crept to the doorway. There was too little light to see properly. She could barely make out the door to Draco's room across the hall. She stepped inside and called his name again.
The silence was oppressive. She could just make out the shape of his bed. She reached out her hand in hope of finding him there, asleep. Her hand met the soft, cool sheets. The bed was empty. Suddenly, there was a scream from somewhere outside. Her blood turned cold.
"Draco!" she whispered and ran to the door. She flung the wooden door open and stepped out into the night. "DRACO!" she called.
All around her was silence and dark. She ran down the dirt road, oblivious to the stones underneath her bare feet. She called his name again and again but there was no answer. She could not see where she was going. Suddenly, she remembered his wand and ran back to the cottage. She ran into his room and searched for his wand in the dark.
"It's no use," a cold, disembodied voice announced, jarring her from her frantic search.
"Who's there?!"
"You know."
"Where's Draco!?"
"Gone."
"No!" she cried.
"I'm afraid so," the voice answered, "and now it's time for you to come with me"
It was suddenly quiet and Hermione found herself back in her bed; her heart beating very fast and a sense of dread filled her. Had it been a dream? It seemed so real. She tried to assure herself that Draco was sleeping soundly a few feet away.
She had to make sure but she was too frightened to move. She was afraid if she called for him, that cold voice would answer. She felt like she was seven years old again, afraid something under the bed would grab her ankles if she left her bed. She didn't even dare turn on the light for fear of attracting something unwanted.
Gathering her wits and steering her courage, she left her bed and made her way into his room. There was sufficient light to see him lying in his bed, sleeping soundly. Relief spread through her as she watched him. She felt safe again but couldn't bring herself to return to her room.
She went to the stuffed chair by the wardrobe and tucked her legs underneath her. It was not the most comfortable sleeping position but she prefered feeling safe over comfort. She closed her eyes and after a few minutes she fell into a light sleep.
As if sensing her presence, Draco woke and saw her curled up in the chair. "Hermione?" His voice was husky with sleep. Hermione woke at the sound of her name.
"I'd 'nother dream," she mumbled.
"Com'ere."
He lifted the covers for her. Hermione hesitated, for a moment, and then went over the bed and slipped inside the covers. Perhaps it was because he was half asleep, but he placed an arm around her as she settled in beside him. The gesture surprised her but it was oddly comforting.
Draco woke the next morning to find the girl curled up beside him and his arm tucked around her middle. He vaguely recalled waking in the night to find her sleeping in the chair. He could smell her skin and hair and feel the gentle rise and fall of her breaths.
He lay there for a moment longer. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of having someone close. How long had it been since he had held someone? He had an urge to pull her closer to him and feel her body solid against his. His body stirred at the thought and he thought it best to leave before his desire became more obvious.
He slipped from the bed as gently as he could but the absence of his embrace woke Hermione. Their eyes met.
"Good morning," he greeted her.
She blushed slightly and nodded. He smiled at her embarrassment as he left the room. Hermione blushed more at the sight of his bare back, his lean form clothed only in shorts and she thought of the scent of his bare skin.
Hermione nodded off again, and awoke with a jerk. She peered over her book at Draco. He was laying on the sofa reading a book he had purchased the day before, something Hermione recommended, The Lord of the Rings. His blond brows furrowed in concentration and she smiled. She was grateful he seemed to like the book for it meant that he would stay and read instead of retiring to bed, leaving her alone.
She was nearly finished with The Lord of the Flies though she had tried to make the book last longer than the two days. It wasn't as if there was much else for either of them to do in the small cottage.
Before, the thought of being able to do nothing all day except read would have filled her with orgasmic joy. Now she realised it wasn't as wonderful as all that.
She yawned, deeply. It was quite late but she dreaded the thought of going to sleep. She already feared the dreams that might come to haunt her. So she forced herself to stay up, finding comfort in the small room with the twin lamps burning and Draco near by.
Her head nodded once again and this time she did wake. The paperback held limply in her hand until it eventually slipped to the floor with a muffled thud. Draco looked up at the noise and saw Hermione had fallen asleep.
He set down his book, turned off the lamp near the sofa and the one next to Hermione. He slipped his arms underneath her legs and around her back, lifting her from the chair. She slept on, her head falling heavily against his chest. Good Merlin, the girl must be exhausted, he thought.
Hermione was vaguely aware of being carried from the chair, Draco's scent filling her. She floated along until she felt her body being placed upon a bed.
"No," she protested, "I don' wanna sleep."
"It's alright," Draco assured her.
Hermione heard him moving quietly within the dark room and before she could protest, she felt him crawl into the bed beside her. She hoped he would hold her as her did the night before but he did not.
Instead he curled up on his side with back to her. She was both disappointed and hurt.
She woke sometime in the early morning when the night sky was easing from pitch to purple and she was reminded that she was not alone. Draco held her to his bare chest and she could feel his warm breath as it tickled her ear. Their legs were intertwined and Hermione was both horrified and pleased.
Should she untangle herself from him or allow it? She longed for comfort and closeness after suffering loss and pain; she deserved it. But did he even realise what he was doing? He was asleep, unconscious of his body. If she moved would he wake and remove himself from her?
Although Hermione liked the feel of his touch, she also felt a tinge of guilt. What would Ron think? Was he able to see her now laying in the same bed as Draco Malfoy?! Tears filled her eyes thinking of Ron. She had tried so hard not to let him enter her mind. Please don't think ill of me, she thought as if she were speaking to Ron.
Hermione insisted that Draco wash the dishes. She had made dinner, after all. When Draco had moved to leave the table when she brought it up.
"Wash?" he asked as if he was uncertain of the word's meaning.
"Well, it's only fair. I made dinner."
"So therefore, you should wash the dishes," Draco insisted.
"No. We should share the work."
"Isn't this the kind of thing Muggle women like to do?"
"Excuse me? Where are you getting your information?" Realising what she had asked she quickly added, "Never mind. These days it is far more common for couples to share chores."
Both caught the reference to couples but choose to ignore the innuendo.
"I don't know how to wash dishes!" he argued.
"Well, it's time you learned. Honestly, it's not rocket science."
"What do rockets have to do with dish washing?"
"Exactly."
"Huh?"
"It's just a saying, Draco. I'm sure you can handle it. I'm going to go read outside on the patio." She left before he could utter another word. Grumbling, Draco began clearing the table.
After some muttering and a broken dish or two, Draco joined Hermione on the patio. She couldn't help herself, she burst into laughter when she saw the front of his clothing had a huge wet spot.
"What did you do, climb in the sink with the dishes?"
Draco fumed silently and Hermione felt a tad guilty for making fun of himso she suggested they walk into town to find some dessert. They conversed more easily now. Often they talked about the books they were reading or had read, places they had been to and other mundane and safe topics. They never discussed the war or Hogwarts. It was easier that way.
It was when they were headed back to the small cottage that Hermione was suddenly struck with a painful stab of guilt. She was laughing at a memory she was telling when she suddenly realised how absurd the situation was; there she was, safe and sound, as if on some holiday with Draco Malfoy of all people while back home her friends were fighting and dying. She stopped in the middle of the dirt road. What would Harry or Ron think?
"What's wrong?" Draco asked once he noticed she had gone silent and still.
Hermione shook her head. She didn't want to discuss it and besides, Draco had brought her here with him to keep her safe. She didn't want to sound ungrateful. She moved and the two walked the rest of the way in silence.
That night, Draco found himself having difficulty falling asleep. His mind began to stir and after laying there for an hour, he decided he needed to get up and clear his mind. He paused for a moment in Hermione's doorway and saw that she was sleeping soundly.
He went to the main room and sat down heavily on the small sofa. He sat in the darkness, his mind abuzz. It had begun with the worry that the money would run out sooner than later. What would they do then? Would he have to work in the Muggle world? What would he do? Maybe it wasn't safe to stay in one place too long. Perhaps they should move soon but where would they go?
How he longed for the halcyon days of childhood at the Manor, a time before he was aware of the Dark Lord and Death Eaters. A time when he looked up to his father and basked in his mother's love.
He hadn't thought of his mother in such a long time.
She's gone. It hit him suddenly as if he had just been informed. He had pushed that painful memory so far back into his mind and focused on his daily survival. He had never mourned for his mother's death. The sadness struck him forcefully and he sobbed.
Hermione had gone to bed reluctantly, worried that her guilt would stimulate her nightmares. She was too shy to ask Draco to stay with her so she went to her own bed while he went to his. She slept soundly and even dreamed some pleasant memories of classes and Hogsmead. However, for some reason, she woke in the dark hours of the night.
Something pulled at her subconscious and she decided to investigate. Her bare feet met the well worn wood floor and she quietly left her room. She peered into Draco's room and found his bed empty. Her heart skipped a beat and she quickly turned toward the small main room. There she found Draco sitting alone in the dark; hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands threaded through his hair.
"Draco?" she called quietly as she stepped into the room.
Startled, he sat up and she could clearly see his wet face. Quickly, he wiped at his cheeks and nose, embarrassed to be caught in his moment of weakness. He looked away, staring at the floor. Hermione hesitated, wondering if he wanted to be left alone but she couldn't leave him.
She approached him slowly, giving him the opportunity to send her away. He didn't. She took a seat next to him. Unsure of what to say, she simply placed a hand on his shoulder. She half expected him to flinch but he didn't.
The touch coaxed his tears to return and he cried again while the two sat in silence. She did not know what memories plagued him and she allowed him to cry in silence. When his trembles ceased and his breathing calmed and his sniffles subsided, she rose and retrieved a handkerchief. He wiped his eyes and nose and played with the damp cloth for a moment.
"He killed my mum," he said as last. There was no need to ask who he was referring to.
"I'm so sorry, Draco." Her words were sincere.
"She was protecting me and that bastard killed her!" his voice shook.
Hermione stroked the fine hair at the nape of his neck as he spoke. She wanted to say something to ease his pain but what could one say for such a loss? There were no words sufficient. They sat in silence for a moment longer. At last, Draco sighed heavily.
"I'm tired," he said as he stood. Hermione was as well. He waited for her and they walked the short distance to their rooms. He paused at the doorway of his room.
"Would you stay with me?" he asked quietly. Hermione could not see his face clearly in the darkness of the hall but she heard the plea in his voice.
"Of course," she answered simply. She followed him into his room and both slipped beneath the covers. He slept on his side, his back to her again. She curled up behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. She felt his body respond by moving closer to hers, his hand clasping hers.
Draco dreamed of his mother surrounded by white, pink, peach coloured roses.