Author's Note: Thanks for the support on this fic, guys. It really means a lot, given how bizarre it is :)
Enjoy your trip, LBX. xoxo
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.
Draco narrowed his eyes as he watched Kingswood's main street for any trace of Hermione from the general store roof.
It had been three days since he had awoken, alone, in the grass, all evidence of her or the book having thoroughly vanished. At least she had left his weapons alone, or he would have gone after her with everything he had.
It was frustrating. He had enjoyed the night they had spent together, and it had been a harsh return to reality to learn she had robbed him of the book and slipped away.
He didn't know why he had been so hopeful she would decide to pursue the treasure together, but it had been a bitter letdown to learn her decision.
Draco supposed he was lonelier than he had even allowed himself to believe.
But no matter – she had made her decision and now Draco would track her until she returned what was his. He had read enough of the book to know what she was after, but he didn't know where it was. Nothing in the book had suggested a location, so he had taken to scouring the town's resources, while still keeping an eye out for the woman.
She obviously knew to keep out of his way, and he hadn't seen her turn up anywhere since.
But he would find her eventually.
Draco crept up, a smirk slipping to his face. He had spotted her, tucked in a back corner of the town archives, scowling as her eyes darted rapidly back and forth across a stack of news clippings and reports.
Draco had hidden off to the side, making certain she was focused before sneaking up on her, drawing a dagger from the sheath at his thigh.
A tiny breath escaped her mouth as she found herself with the edge of his blade pressed against her carotid.
"Not so terribly poor at stealth after all, eh," he murmured in her ear as he ducked in. He could feel the shallow breaths she was taking, afraid to move too fast for the prospect of imminent death if she did.
"Draco," she hissed, her eyes fixed on the wall ahead of her.
"That's Double-Draw to you," he snarled. His other hand hovered alongside his pistol, his eyes fixed on her hands in case she made a move for one of the half a dozen weapons he knew she carried on her person.
"I know you're mad at me," she whispered, and Draco scoffed. "I'll give you the damn book. There's nothing about a location in it anyway."
"I know," Draco drawled, and he eased off her throat slightly, drawing one of his pistols to press against the back of her neck. His gaze flickered behind him to be sure no one was watching. He sheathed the blade, keeping the pistol firm against her spine, and reached around her to grab the sheets of notes in front of her on the table. "I don't want the book. I want this."
"I haven't found anything," she whispered. Then she huffed, and Draco imagined she was rolling her eyes. "If you think this if going to make me accept your offer –"
"It's too late," Draco clipped, his eyes scanning her tidy cursive. "There is no more offer. You're on your own now."
She fell silent, her shoulders sagging slightly, and Draco blinked.
"You weren't going to accept anyway, you and I both know that," he hissed, scathing. Any sort of truce between them had been broken the moment she swiped his book and snuck away after their night together.
"I was considering it," she whispered.
"Nice try," Draco said, mocking. "You're only saying that because I've got a gun to your head. You don't trust me, remember? So I might as well give you a reason not to."
"Draco," she said again, her voice breaking a little.
"Give me the articles," he sneered, holding out his empty hand. "Everything you've found."
"I didn't want it to be like this," she said, deflated, as she handed over everything she had presumably dug up on the subject. It would be enough to keep Draco occupied for days, and hopefully, he would find something that would lead him to the treasure, and far away from Kingswood. And her.
"Neither did I," he said shortly. "Unfortunately, I wasn't given a say in the matter. You dug your grave when you left me at that shack."
"You're acting like you were hurt by it," she hissed, and Draco frowned, tucking the resources into his bag.
"Who says I wasn't?" he snapped, stowing his pistol and sweeping from the archives without looking back.
Hermione pushed her horse past its limits, spurring the mare on to the point where the canyon alongside her was a blur, a hurricane of dust flying up behind her.
Moisture flew from the corners of her eyes at the speed, but still, she couldn't get away from Kingswood fast enough.
Everything she had been working on. Gone. And now Double-Draw had her research, and her notes, and he would find the treasure. She had no money, no food, and no way to get any. There wasn't a chance he would let her beat him to any prospects in Kingswood now.
She hadn't realized he would be so angry over the book. But maybe it hadn't been the book.
Gasping, she pulled up on the reins, and her horse slowed to a stop. Tears were flowing from her eyes, but not from the wind or the dust.
She had pushed away the only person who had ever understood her.
And he hated her and he had been hurt too.
She turned her head to face the west, soft oranges and pinks filling the sky as she slumped, feeling both exhausted and defeated. She wished she had never gone to Kingswood. Wished she had never met Double-Draw.
She felt more alone than she ever had, since her parents had died and she had found herself alone in the world. She thought she had grown used to it – she had learned to look after herself, and had done so for many years.
But now…
She cast another glance behind her, down the dry and dusty road she had been following, that would lead back to town, and shook her head.
There was nothing left for her in Kingswood. She would find a place to sleep for the night, and in the morning she would carry on to the next town down the road, and see if she could scrounge up some gold there.
The founders' treasure had started out as a dream, and become a nightmare.
She hoped Double-Draw found it. Hoped he escaped Kingswood after all, and maybe one day he would find his peace.
Sniffling, and angrily swiping at the tears traveling from her eyes into her bandana, Hermione spurred her horse into motion once more.
Draco scowled to himself as he pored over page after page of notes, cross-referencing with endless articles. His eyes were starting to blur, and he rubbed a hand down his face.
He hadn't seen Hermione in three days, since he had confronted her at the archives, and he was starting to believe she wasn't simply lying low. Without her research, she had no way to find the founders' treasure, and maybe he had finally driven her from town.
It wasn't the way he had meant to do it.
He hadn't really wanted to do it at all, but she had been a threat to his livelihood, and his future.
He couldn't keep his eyes from lifting up, every time a woman walked down the main road in Kingswood. From his perch atop the general store, he could see the entire street, and he cursed himself each time.
She was gone. Well, good, because Draco was tired of dealing with her.
And now he would be free to find the treasure whenever suited him, without worrying about racing against her. Draco had spent a dozen years without needing another person, and he knew very well how to get by on his own.
He didn't care about her.
He didn't care whether she had run into trouble in the vast, unforgiving plains. Whether she had left town with no food or resources, and no money because he had driven her broke.
He sort of hoped she hadn't gone east towards Sequoia, because she wouldn't be prepared to run into the bandit gang that lived there. But that was her problem, and he knew she could look after herself.
Not that it mattered to him what happened to her. She was out of his hair, and that's all Draco cared about.
Glowering down at the street below him, Draco returned to his research.
Hermione was parched, her mouth dry and lips cracking. She had left Kingswood days ago – she had depleted her remaining food supply, and the only reason she had any water left in her leather skin was because she had been strict with herself about rationing it.
But if she didn't find more soon, she would never make it to the next town. She hadn't seen a soul or a single homestead, and her horse had grown dangerously weary.
The hard, packed earth, and the blazing sun had been especially cruel, and Hermione, not for the first time, wished she had taken her chances with Double-Draw and stayed in Kingswood after all.
If she died out here, alone, it would all have been for nought.
Her eyes fluttered, exhaustion creeping up on her, and it was a struggle to stay upright.
Her horse let out a soft whimper and Hermione patted the mare on the neck, trying to reassure the poor beast.
"I know," she murmured, tangling her fingers in the long hair on the back of the horse's powerful neck.
But the horse whinnied again, and Hermione glanced up, blinking several times.
An old farmstead stood at the bottom of a valley, dilapidated, much of the adjacent farmland that had once been proudly worked, cracked and infertile. But a small garden still grew beside the house, its produce green and lush, and she could see a well.
Gasping in relief, Hermione spurred her horse the remaining distance, hoping no one would be home. But as she approached the home, an older woman came around into the garden, staring in surprise, her mouth parted.
Hermione ripped her bandana off as she stumbled without grace from her horse.
"Hello," she gasped, ripping her pack from the back of the horse and swinging it across her own back. Her voice was hoarse as she asked, "Have you perhaps got some water?"
"Oh, goodness," the woman said, taking in the sight of Hermione. She was certain she was coated in a layer of dust, and she probably looked a fright. "Of course, dear, come along."
Some time later, Hermione let out a long sigh. Her body and clothes were clean, she had been fed and watered, and the elderly couple had insisted she take some of the produce from their garden and a generous package of cured meats, along with a second full water skin.
Her eyes had nearly watered at the show of hospitality. She had offered to pay them, despite that she had nothing left, but they had refused.
"Thank you for everything," she murmured, feeling overwhelmed. "Can you tell me where the nearest town is?"
"Sequoia Bluffs," the farmer said, pointing approximately south-southwest. "You must have just missed it about half a day's ride back. You'll find a place to stay there."
"Thank you," Hermione gasped, mounting her horse, who was looking spritely once again. She blinked down at the couple who had saved her without a concern. "Someday, I will return to repay this kindness."
"Think nothing of it," the woman said with an absent wave.
With a last glance, Hermione nodded and swept away to the south.
She was near the outskirts of Sequoia Bluffs, and she was following a group of bandits at a safe distance. The more she could learn about this new town the better, and if she would be facing an entire team of Double-Draws in this town, she didn't suspect she would be staying long.
Hermione slowed her horse as she heard one of the bandits speaking, his words carrying on the air.
"If we ride hard we can hit Kingswood in two and a half days," the man was saying, and she heard a general chorus from the rest. There were five of them in total, and the fact that they were shouting their plans made Hermione suspect that they weren't altogether aware of their surroundings.
Idly, she wondered why they were traveling to Kingswood, and whether they were friends or foes of Double-Draw's. Not that it mattered to her either way. He would just as soon see her dead.
"Good," one of the men said in a vicious tone. "The sooner we can take care of business."
"Revenge for Skip!" another of the men growled, and the others agreed their raucous consent again. "And that stupid outlaw won't see us coming until he's Double-Dead."
A collective of sneering laughter followed and Hermione cautiously backed her horse up further from the group of men, her eyes wide and heart racing.
She wondered if Skip was the man to whom Draco had referred – the one with the rotten soul who took advantage of women, and she was privately glad Skip was dead.
But if these men were seeking vengeance on Draco, and there were five of them – she knew Draco was good, but was he that good, caught unaware?
Her heart was racing somewhere between her throat and her ears and she sat atop her horse, frozen, trying to decide what she should do.
If this group of bandits from Sequoia were leaving, the town would be empty. But didn't she owe Draco more than that? Did she not owe him a warning? She would have to give it everything she had to make it back to Kingswood in under three days.
Swallowing her nerves before she had a chance to think on it too hard, Hermione turned her horse west and flew.
Draco was sweating under the blazing sun. He was pacing just past the eastern outskirts of Kingswood, and was starting to wish he had brought his horse further in this direction.
The sun was blazing, he was running low on water, and Draco felt like he was looking for a literal needle in a haystack.
After days of studying Hermione's articles, Draco had finally stumbled across something worthy of consideration. That there had been a cache hidden to the east of Kingswood which runners had used to store illicit liquor and other substances. That the founders of Kingswood themselves had used the cache for their own uses.
The only identifying factor Draco had discovered in the text was that this supposed cache was near a well.
Many of the wells that had been around during the founding of Kingswood had long since dried up with the groundwater, and had been knocked down and boarded over.
So Draco was now quite literally looking for a wooden well cover that was mostly likely covered in layers of dried, packed earth. And the "east of Kingswood" covered a lot of packed earth.
But it was the only lead he had, and he had a feeling in his gut about the hidden cache.
He swiped a hand along his brow, wishing he had something else to go on. All he could hope was that some part of the stone or the pump or something still remained. So he had tied up his horse some distance back with a pail of water and ventured out on foot.
A decision which he was sorely regretting, but something within him told him not to turn back or he would just narrowly miss some important evidence.
His hands flew to his holstered pistols at the sudden pounding of hooves coming in fast towards Kingswood. His gaze flickered in the direction of his horse. Even if he ran, he wouldn't make it in time. And he was standing in the middle of nowhere, with no cover nearby.
He blinked, squinting into the sun as a rider came into his view, flying without hesitation into town. Suddenly the rider pulled up on the reins, stopping short some distance away from him.
Huffing a sigh, Draco drew his pistols, ready for a fight, when he saw the brunette curls, and trepidation turned to relief and then to irritation.
Hermione turned her horse in his direction, stopping to hover above him. She pulled her bandana down around her throat.
"What are you doing out here?" she hissed, her tone and expression urgent. Without waiting for a response, she asked, "Where is your horse?"
"Back near town," he said, holstering his pistols.
"Get on!" she exclaimed, turning the horse towards town. He opened his mouth to say something, to ask whether she had gone crazy, but the look she fired him had Draco tugging himself onto the back of her horse.
"What are you doing back here?" he asked, feeling inherently annoyed at the sight of her, and she tensed as he looped an arm across her stomach.
While he had hoped she had left, he had spent altogether too much time wondering where she had gone to, and whether she would ever return.
"There are a group of bandits coming after you from Sequoia," she said, her eyes focused on the path before her. Her voice was slightly muffled through her bandana. Then she glanced back. "It felt like the least I could do to come back and let you know."
"Damnit," Draco cursed, "really?"
"Really," she responded gruffly.
"I took out their leader a few weeks ago." Draco felt the need to explain, especially if she had ridden all the way back from Sequoia just to warn him.
"Yeah, I heard," she said, "Skip."
Draco's stomach still rolled at the mention of Skip. The world was better off.
"How many of them?" he asked, his voice quiet.
"Five," she said after a moment, "and they were out for your blood." Her shoulders were tense. "Are you going to leave?"
"No," Draco scoffed. "I can take five of them."
Her neck snapped back, her eyes flashing. "No you can't," she snapped.
"I can," he said, templer flaring hotly. "Five of the Sequoia Gang? Absolutely I can. If I know they're coming I'll see them from miles off."
"You're terribly outnumbered," she hissed as she turned back to the road. The town was visible now and she turned along the outskirts.
"Just here," Draco murmured. "Thanks for the ride."
She pulled to a stop and Draco swung himself over her horse, dropping to the ground. His horse stomped the ground at the sight of him and he mounted quickly, his gaze fixed on the eastern road. If Hermione had just made it back, they wouldn't be too far behind.
He glanced at Hermione, pressing his lips together. "Thanks for the warning."
"Right," she said, her eyes fixed on the east as well. "Do you –" she made a face, turning away. "Do you want help?"
"No," Draco replied, double checking his pistols and knives were all loaded and ready to go. "I'll get to higher ground and I'll take them out, without dragging any of the mess into town. Sheriff won't even know it was me."
She huffed a breath, and Draco realized she was staring at him. She growled, "I'm coming with you."
Draco's brow furrowed as he realized she was serious. "You don't owe me a damn thing." She held firm and checked the barrel of her own pistol. "Fine, but stay at my flank and don't get in the way. I'm not looking to have your blood on my hands today."
He shifted his horse alongside hers, pointing to a bluff some distance away. "We'll go there. We'll be able to see the east road, and they won't see us until they're right below. They won't realize they're riding into an ambush until it's too late. Deal?"
"Deal," she breathed.
Draco chewed his tongue for a moment as he stared at her, then slipped his bandana back on and made for the cliff.