Author's Note: Thanks for the lovely feedback on this story so far! As I mentioned in the first chapter, Dust is sort of a collection of stories, the first being their adventures in Kingswood. It's looking like this part will conclude around 8-9 chapters, with future stories to be written if there is interest at that point. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.
Draco maintained his vigil on the roof well into the evening and past sundown. Years worth of what had seemed to be unnecessary studying of the prison guards would finally – he hoped – come in handy.
It was the time of night where the two guards would change with two others – but the shift was staggered by a quarter of an hour. One would leave, and the second would stay an additional fifteen minutes.
That was where Draco would find his window. So long as he could delay the first guard of the incoming shift.
As the first guard left the prison, Draco would thieve his keys and skip them through the barred window. From there, Draco would have to somehow knock out the incoming guard, and simultaneously cause a diversion to distract the remaining guard ending his shift.
It would give Hermione the time she needed to escape. Hopefully without needing to use her hidden dagger.
Draco hadn't been able to alert her to the fact that he was plotting her escape, so he could only hope she would catch on because he wouldn't have time to explain while he needed to detain the new guard and distract the old one.
Draco released a sharp exhale as the first guard made to leave the jail. Draco scaled down the side of the building, tilting his hat as low as he could manage. Slipping his bandana over his face would be too suspicious.
"Pardon me, sir," he murmured as he bumped into the guard. "I ought to pay closer attention."
The guard grimaced with irritation but then nodded. Draco tipped his hat as he carried on.
Too easy.
He crept around the back of the jail, peering through the window to be sure the remaining guard wasn't watching and slipped the ring of keys onto the ledge of the window. He hissed, alerting Hermione to his presence, and her eyes were wide as they met his, her fingers instantly wrapping the keys into a fist.
"Wait," he whispered. "Until the guard goes outside."
With a subtle nod, she turned her back to the window, and Draco returned to his rooftop lookout. He had to do this all without drawing attention to himself, and without killing any guards.
It was one thing for the sheriff to be lax about an investigation into the deaths of bandits, but his own guards would be a different story.
Besides, the guards weren't pointing guns at him. Not yet, anyway.
A few minutes later, Draco watched as the new guard turned onto the street. He climbed down, and cursing his lack of creativity, he caught the guard to the back of the head with a rock. Hard enough to knock him out, but not to do any permanent damage.
It didn't need to be his finest performance, it just had to buy Hermione time to get herself free.
The last guard would be waiting for his relief to show before he would leave. And his relief was currently knocked out in a dark alley.
Throwing caution to the wind, Draco wrenched out a pistol and fired two shots into the sky, away from the jail.
He stowed the pistol, creeping around the back of the jail just in time to see the third guard stalk from the station, gun held out before him.
He hoped Hermione was moving.
He snuck around the back of the prison, drawing his bandana up in case the guard returned and was relieved to see Hermione unlocking the door to her cell. It took her a few tries but Draco let out an anxious breath when the door swung free.
She met his gaze with a disbelieving smile.
"Hurry up, we won't have long," he hissed, tucking himself into a shadowy corner, drawing a dagger free from his boot. "Get your bag and weapons."
With a sharp nod, her gaze swept the jail. "I can't find my bag," she whispered.
"It's there," Draco hissed, spotting it on a shelf. She quickly crossed the station and grabbed it, checking the inside briefly. "Gun, knives."
She moved surely around the station, looking for her weapons, but Draco kept his anxious gaze on the door, certain the guard could come back in at any point, having realized Draco's diversion was illegitimate.
Hermione whispered to herself as she dug around on the shelves, hissing as she finally located her weapons. She swept the lot of them into her bag, tossing her holster on top, and met Draco's eyes with a nod.
Draco followed the wall until he was behind the door, and he watched in horror as Hermione's eyes widened.
She backed up, her gaze fixed on something in front of her, and Draco knew the guard was back.
"How did you get out!" the man exclaimed, advancing towards her.
Without thinking twice, Draco darted forward from behind the door where he had been concealed and knocked the guard on the back of the head, hard, with the butt end of his dagger.
As the guard hit the ground in a heap, Draco hissed, "Run!" and Hermione skirted out of the prison, her eyes sweeping the street.
A loud commotion was occurring down the road where someone had apparently found the knocked out guard.
"For crying out loud," Draco muttered. He shot Hermione a glare as she snickered despite the tension of the situation. "Not a word. I didn't exactly have a lot of time to plan this. Admittedly, it isn't my finest work – now go! My horse is the next street over."
Walking as casually as possible so as not to seem as if they were fleeing the scene of a crime, they made their way onto the next street and Draco mounted his horse, tugging Hermione up behind him.
"You're going to have to leave town," he muttered, "but we'll lie low for the night."
He felt her nod against his back, her arms wrapping around his stomach. After a moment's hesitation, Draco dropped a hand onto hers, his fingers grazing her knuckles.
"My horse is at the edge of town," she murmured, and Draco sighed.
"You're going to have to be quick," he instructed, speaking quickly as he half-turned to face her. "People will still be coming in and out of the saloon, and word might have reached Potter by the time we get there. Untie your horse and head east. I'll wait for you at the edge of town and we'll go to the abandoned distillery."
"Yes," she said, "my weapons are all at the bottom of my bag."
Draco drew one of his pistols and handed it to her. "Just in case. Until we get out."
He heard a soft giggle and felt her bury her face in his neck. "Double-Draw's own pistol," she teased.
'It's a temporary loan," he hissed, turning his horse onto the main road. He reined the horse to a sudden stop where hers was tied up and Hermione leapt off, her hands making quick work of the knots in her horse's rope.
People were milling about in the street, looking and pointing in their direction and Draco tugged his hat lower, turning his horse and pushing to the town limits and beyond.
Draco glanced back to ensure Hermione was close behind him, and she was – but so were two guards.
Hermione pulled up alongside him and met his gaze, her brow furrowed. She held his pistol tightly in one hand as she gripped the reins, not having a holster in which to stow it.
"Change of plans," Draco shouted across the air between them. The last thing he needed was to lead the guards directly to his current hideout. "Follow me!"
She nodded, and Draco veered into a sharp turn west, sensing her moving at his flank.
He spurred his horse into top speed, leading Hermione from Kingswood into the maze of dried river beds, canyons, and hills that made up the topography beyond the town. It was here they would lose the guards – here in the land of dust that Draco knew better than anyone.
Hermione, to her credit, kept up with his every twist and turn, her speed and agility matching his evenly.
And the guards began to fade and fall back, until finally they were gone and Draco brought his horse to a halt high atop a ridge overlooking the largest canyon in the area, lit in the most spectacular way by the light of a nearly full moon.
"I don't think you're going to be able to go back into Kingswood either," Hermione breathed as her horse came up beside his.
"Good," Draco mused, "but that means we'll simply have to find the founders' treasure sooner than later."
"You rescinded the offer," she murmured, staring out over the canyon. She looked beautiful in the light of the moon.
"I'm reinstating it again," Draco said, his voice gruff. "If you want."
Her warm, chocolate brown eyes met his. "Yes, I want."
"Good," Draco smirked and she offered him a winning smile.
"And we'll split the gold evenly?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Yes." He debated saying something else. But despite having saved her, he wasn't certain whether she still didn't trust him. "Shall we go? There's one full growler of moonshine left."
She laughed, a smile brightening her face. "Let's save it until we find the treasure."
"When we find the treasure, we'll be able to afford better alcohol than that," Draco snickered.
"Then it'll be symbolic," she breathed, then gave him a wry smile. "A reminder of the time you stole my book so I stole it back and you nearly killed me."
"You make it sound like I was being ridiculous," Draco rolled his eyes. "I didn't care for the way you went about things."
He could tell by the look on her face that she understood his words went deeper, beyond her thievery of the book, and his mouth felt suddenly dry.
"Maybe," she said, softly, "you'll give me a second chance to do things differently."
Draco trailed his fingers along her forearm and she grasped his hand for a moment before releasing it. Staring at her, he said, "Maybe."
She chewed her bottom lip, then grinned. "Let's go. I'll race you!"
And she was gone, leading her horse back through the winding, twisted maze of roads they had taken. Cursing, Draco spurred his horse into motion, chasing after her, despite that he suspected she would probably get lost.
Then he would decide whether he would take pity on her or not.
"I don't know, but I seem to recall you saying you would leave Kingswood in shame if you ever needed my help," Draco said, chuckling to himself as he scrounged some food for the two of them to eat.
"Well I've left Kingswood now, haven't I?" she asked, making a face.
"Hardly," Draco said, frowning as the only food he found was stale. "You're still in the general vicinity, which doesn't count. And I see no shame on your face. I'm disappointed."
"I also recall you saying if I got into trouble you wouldn't help me," she met his eyes with a smirk.
"You're right," Draco said, hesitating as he glanced up at her. "Get out."
She swatted him in the side. "Here," she muttered, tossing her bag at him. Draco's brows flew up at the sight of the fresh produce in her bag.
"Where did you get all this?" he asked, sorting through it. Something clenched tightly in his chest at the sight of so much greenery, the likes of which he hadn't seen around Kingswood in years since the groundwater situation had become worrisome. In a matter of time, Draco suspected food would be increasingly hard to come by.
"I met some farmers about half a day's ride north-east of Sequoia, in a valley," she muttered, biting the end off of a carrot. She shrugged. "The farmland was mostly dried up, but they had a small garden. I was out of food and water, and they helped me."
Draco's brow furrowed, feeling a spasm of guilt in his gut. He had forced her out of town with virtually no supplies.
"A valley north of Sequoia," he muttered to himself. "Interesting. Not that I want to go anywhere near Sequoia."
"Are you going to tell me what you learned about the treasure?" she asked, dropping into a chair as Draco inspected and prepared some of her vegetables.
"Yes," he responded delicately, raising a brow at her. He tossed her the stack of research from his bag. "The founders used a cache to communicate and transport illicit goods with the smugglers in the area at the time. This cache was buried in the ground east of town."
"That's what you've been looking for," she breathed. "But obviously without any luck."
"The only defining factor I've found is that the cache was near a well, which will likely be boarded up, maybe demolished." Draco frowned.
"Let's hope they didn't go to the effort to demolish it," Hermione said, flipping through the pages of notes. "Well, I suppose we ought to start looking first thing. We might have better luck with two people."
"I've kept track of where I've already been," Draco said absently, dishing up two plates. Hermione nodded, locating the survey map.
"Good," she said, "that will be helpful." She set the map aside, her head tilting. "I wonder if there are other signifiers that might suggest where a well would have been."
"My initial thought was that if a well had been covered, it would feel or sound hollow," Draco said, shaking his head. "But presumably so much dirt has piled on top of anything from that long ago. And with the ground as hard and dried as it is…"
"Understood," she murmured. "Well, all we can do it keep looking, then. And hopefully if – when – we find this cache, we'll find the founders' gold."
"Cheers to that," Draco grumbled, waving his water skin. With a smile, she bumped his with her own.
"So have you been staying here long?" Hermione asked, looking up at him from her water. "Since we found it?"
"Not every night," Draco said with a shrug. "I tend to move around. But a few. That's why the food is pretty well gone."
Her brows flickered, and Draco suspected the question was a loaded one.
"And have you been sleeping in the grass?" she murmured, her lips twitching.
Draco stared at her, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"There's a bed in the other room, and I found some fresh linens," he said slowly, uncertain as to what she was alluding. "You can have it if you like. I'll sleep outside."
While their night together had been fun, Draco wasn't entirely sure whether he wanted to go down that road again. And he wasn't positive where she stood, either, but he decided he should probably figure out.
"Sure," Hermione said, taking a bite of her vegetables. She flashed him a toothy smile. "Thanks."
"Right," Draco said, feeling oddly affected. His gaze flickered to hers as he fought a smirk. "I suppose you don't sleep in the grass without being drunk on moonshine first."
"I've slept in the grass plenty," she clipped, though there was something cool in her gaze as she looked at him. "Take the bed, then, if you care so much."
"I don't care about the bed," Draco said, waving a dismissive hand. "I just want to be sure you're… comfortable."
He took a bite, his teeth dragging along the tines of his fork.
"It's probably big enough for two, one should think," she said, glancing away from him.
Draco shrugged, his expression stoic. So she did want it to happen again. It was useful information. He cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure it probably is."
"So," Hermione said, her voice quiet, "we could probably share it. Provided, you know. It wouldn't make you uncomfortable."
Draco leveled her with a gaze intended to make her squirm, and it didn't disappoint. "I'm not sure whether I've had enough moonshine for you to proposition me." He smirked, taking a drink of his water. "You keep the bed."
Her eyes narrowed, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "Fine."
"Good," Draco said with a chuckle. "Here's another thing: if you're going to be evading the sheriff and killing bandits, you'll need your own outlaw nickname, don't you think?"
She blinked at the rapid change of topic: really, Draco simply hadn't decided whether he wanted to pursue that option with her or not. The last time he'd slept with her she'd robbed him and left him alone, and Draco had dealt with the unfortunate backlash that went along with allowing himself to care about someone.
Then she shrugged. "I'm not notorious like you are. Where did you get your name?"
"An old rival gang," Draco said, not wanting to get into the details of it. "Their leader tried taking over Kingswood once. They've moved on."
"Moved on," she mused. "On their horses, or into the ground?"
Draco's lips twitched. "The smart ones went south."
"Noted," Hermione murmured. "Well, you'll have to give me a name, then. I can't very well give myself one, can I?"
"No," Draco said, finishing the last of his meal. "I'll think of something."
"Fine," Hermione said, her voice oddly high pitched as she rose to clear the dishes from the table. "We ought to determine where we'll go tomorrow, don't you think?"
"Along here," Draco said without hesitation, gesturing to the next bit of map he intended to search. "It's the most logical, and then we can work outwards along this line." He drew the direction with his finger on the map.
Her face flushed as she nodded.
"Great," she said, her smile bright and forced. "In that case, I'm quite tired. Good night." With an awkward sort of wave, she vanished into the second room, closing the door behind her.
Draco's narrowed eyes remained fixed on the closed door long after she had vanished into it. She had effectively left the decision up to him, and Draco didn't care for it.
Finally, huffing a sigh, he left the shack through the back door, finding the partial third growler of moonshine. The fourth was set aside for when they found the treasure, but this one – well, this one would help Draco forget about the woman in the next room.