Chapter Twelve

Harry could sense Hermione hadn't thought through all the aspects of this new, strange connection she had to Draco. Not thinking things through wasn't something Hermione usually did – but after everything she'd been forced to endure so far that summer, Harry didn't blame her at all for not acting herself.

"Hermione, if you want me to come with you…"

"No," she repeated firmly.

Harry nodded as if he understood, but made a mental promise to make sure he could check up on her well-being at least every other day. She didn't want him to travel with her, but at least he could track her…

Somewhere inside himself, Harry could feel that the Malfoys were going to harm Hermione further. She was so vulnerable now. Maybe what gave him such an odd vibe was how Hermione and Malfoy had been such natural enemies before. He recalled third year when Hermione had slapped Malfoy across the face for poking fun at Hagrid. All those times he'd called her a Mudblood, too. A fresh wave of anger washed over Harry as he remembered all the trouble and anger Malfoy had caused them over the years.

"Hermione…" Harry attempted once more.

"No." Her tone was final, so Harry dropped the subject, resigning himself to the back seat in this particular adventure.

Hermione had never thought about Draco having any ulterior motives before. As she and Harry made their way back into the kitchen, she wondered… was it possible that Draco was trying to gain her trust in order to eventually drop her and leave her all alone in the world, or possibly dead?

Somewhere in the confines of her mind, she didn't think so. But there was still that nagging fear, nonetheless – Hermione buried the thought as best she could. She sat down at the kitchen table with the same impassive and expressionless face she usually donned for one of Dora's dinner parties.

Inside the kitchen, there was a whole different atmosphere. Ron still looked like he wanted to strangle Draco right then and there and Mrs. Weasley was fretting about one thing or another. Ginny was munching on one of the spare scones, while Draco… was immersed in conversation with Mr. Weasley?

Hermione did a double take on that last one.

Draco Malfoy… and Arthur Weasley… were having a conversation that did not include snide remarks or full-blown insults.

Again, very interesting.

Draco looked up as Hermione entered the room and their eyes locked for a split second before she was forced to drop them to the ground. It had been HIM who'd found her that day… he had saved her life: Or it was at least some sort of equivalent to that, anyway.

She sat down very rigidly in the familiar kitchen seat. Draco noticed her straight-backed uneasiness and rolled his eyes in spite of himself – whatever Potter had said to her had clearly struck a nerve or else, hit home. He hoped she wasn't going to try and back out at the last minute.

"…Right… and they travel around on horseback," Mr. Weasley was finishing.

Hermione didn't know what the conversation had been about, but she was intensely aware of how suddenly Draco's feelings had changed. He was positively brightening at something; Well… brightening for a Malfoy, anyway.

"Sorry for the delay," Harry interrupted jovially, "would someone mind filling us in?"

"Arthur has some friends up in Northumderland," Mrs. Weasley supplied, her warm eyes darting to Harry, then to Hermione. "Bill squeezed them out of a tight spot with some goblins a few years ago and they think they owe the family a debt."

"So I'm going to contact them to see if they'll add two more to their party," Mr. Weasley finished.

"That sounds wonderful," Hermione lied.

All eyes turned to her in surprise; "It… does?" Ron queried, surprised despite himself.

In truth, it did NOT sound wonderful to Hermione. She would be traveling around with a bunch of people she did not know and one Draco Malfoy. No, that sounded terrible.

How could she travel with people she didn't trust, save for the boy who'd discovered her when…

And by Merlin, she was so tired… so very, very tired. She just wanted to lay her head down and forget pain, forget the drama, forget everything…

But she wouldn't think of that now.

"Sounds good," Draco finalized, "how soon can we leave?"

Ron stared unabashedly and Harry gaped unknowingly. Ginny, on the other hand, was far more composed than everyone gave her credit for, and went to retrieve some spare toothbrushes.

Draco attempted to flash a quick grin in Hermione's direction; He was so terrible at grinning, however, that he more resembled a Cheshire Cat or a shark. Hermione didn't notice – carefully ignoring his eyes – but Harry did. And Harry did not trust the expression on Draco's face one bit.

"I'll go contact Patrick right now, if I can," Mr. Weasley offered, "the sooner you leave, the harder it will be to find you."

"And we'll have to get the cloaks out of the attic," Mrs. Weasley supplied. "It's cold in Northumberland."

"If you can get them back from the ghoul," Ron muttered snidely.

"Well thank you for volunteering, Ronald," Ginny snapped.

Ron, mouth agape, looked at his mother to defend him, which she did not.

"Excellent idea, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley agreed briskly, "off you go, Ron."

Ron huffed to himself, pride wounded, but still trudged reluctantly upstairs. A few minutes later, a loud crash ricocheted from the attic, followed by a chorus of unearthly wails.

"Patrick!" Mr. Weasley howled into the fireplace. He was checking all the campfires around the Northumberland province and had so far been unsuccessful.

"I'll go check on Ron," Ginny offered, taking her leave of the room.

"Patrick!"

Mr. Weasley was having no luck locating his friend, but in the meantime, Ron and Ginny eventually appeared with a large truck. The handles and clasps were old-fashioned and Hermione thought it resembled the one Merlin had in that ridiculous Muggle children's film… what was it called? The Sword in the Stone?

Yes, that was it. Funny how her normal, Muggle life seemed so difficult to remember now that all traces of it had been destroyed…

The latches of the trunk wouldn't open, so Ginny used the Alohamora charm. As she did so, the lid flew open and emitted a cloud of dust, rendering everyone into a brief coughing fit.

"Shall we dig in?" Ginny suggested brightly. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the nearest garment and held it up to display. It was a long, green velvet cloak with a silver clasp.

"That's too short of a hem for you, Malfoy," Harry pointed out in an attempt at civility.

Draco shrugged and Ginny handed the cloak to Hermione. It was a little short – but considering how wet and cold it usually tended to be that north of England, maybe it was a good thing there weren't those few extra inches.

Hermione was given another black cloak and Draco was given a similar black one, as well as a crimson one.

Although Hermione wasn't sure, she had a feeling she knew what was going through Draco's mind: Odd that Hermione should get the green color of Slytherin and Draco the crimson of Gryffindor… but most likely just an odd coincidence.

There were a few other things in the leather chest, as well: Two small knives, some riding pants, a rosewood fife and an old, Spanish-made sword encrusted with rubies.

Hermione vaguely wondered why the Weasleys hadn't sold the sword, as it was probably worth quite a few galleons. Her thoughts disappeared, however when she was handed one of the knives and all but one of the pairs of pants, which all happened to rather snugly fit, except one pair, which was far too large.

"Do you know how to fence?" Draco's question surprised Hermione.

"No, I can't say I do," she admitted, making sure not to meet his gaze by pretending to be interested in the knife she'd been given.

"Do you mind if I take the sword, then?"

"YOU know how to fence, Malfoy?" Ron demanded.

"I've been taught, yes." He sheathed the sword into its old, beaten-up scabbard.

From somewhere in the back of her mind, Hermione recognized that Draco wasn't really acting like the Malfoy she remembered from school; There was something different about him this time around. He was being a bit more of a gentlemen about things, while still regaining his meticulous and arrogant nature. With a wry grin, she realized he was acting exactly like the Beast from Beauty and the Beast – at the parts where the Beast was starting to control his temper, anyway.

"Patrick!" Mr. Weasley yelled – for what seemed like the hundredth time – into the fireplace. Hermione wondered how much Floo Powder could possibly be left at this point.

"I'm here! I'm here! What do you want?" an irritable voice demanded, finally.

Mr. Weasley clearly hadn't been expecting an answer, because he jumped a little bit as the voice echoed into the kitchen and a bodiless, hairy face appeared on top of the pile of ashes.

"Oh! Arthur! Long time no see!"

"Patrick, my old friend…"

A smile broke out onto Mr. Weasley's face for the first time, probably since Fred's death.

"So what brings on this visit? I know you didn't call me all the way down here just because you wanted to chat."

Mr. Weasley explained the entire situation much better than even Hermione herself felt she could. As for Draco, he hated answering questions AND explaining himself; Letting someone else do this menial task was merely a given to him.

"Of course! Happy to be of service! And I haven't forgotten about my debt to you, either." Patrick laughed lightheartedly, "We've got extra horses, too – three of them, so there's somewhat of a pick."

"Why don't you two go get into your things," Mrs. Weasley suggested.

Hermione went into Ginny's room on the second floor to change, while Draco occupied the bathroom. She wore tan riding pants, tucking the small knife into one of her boots. Fastening the black cloak around her neck, she was determined to look as un-Slytherin as possible.

It seemed Draco had been thinking along the same lines, because when he emerged, he was wearing the black cloak, as well.

He couldn't want to harm her, Hermione tried to convince herself. Hell, they were almost on the same wavelength!

"Shall we?" Draco offered her his arm.

Attempting to be civil, she realized.

"Yes," she replied nodding, though she pretended she hadn't seen his extended arm.

.

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Author's Note: Thank you all for being patient while I was in Disney World! I had a blast and the kids were (for once) finally tired out. That's always a relief... Oh and not to mention that I have now officially been converted to the Twilight series.

Big thanks to brooklynsam3, AerintheWhiteKnight, BelhavenOnTap, sureynot, Readerforlife, oreo69not96, RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder, GoodCharlotte615, WinnieThaPoo92, angieLATgirllmafoXD, and Shaiya 'tears-in-her-eyes' for the reviews!!

BalhavenOnTap - You're probably right. He's the Byronic hero, I guess. Dark and brooding and all that.

GoodCharlotte615 - Well they've all grown up quite a bit. I mean, the twins were born around the time of the other fic and they're FOUR now. Seems like eons ago. Lira's now eight and Galen is nine - which is frightening because next year he'll be in the double digits. It makes me feel old, kind of but not really at the same time because I get to re-live my childhood. Who doesn't love Aladdin?