Chapter Fifteen

They rode all day and Hermione grew steadily more uncomfortable with Draco riding beside her. He remained in the same bad mood for the majority of the morning and his horse seemed to feel his tension; It threw its head around quite a bit and even nipped Hermione's gelding once or twice, much to her annoyance.

It began to rain around midday, but that wasn't unusual for that part of the world.

The more silence that passed between the two of them, the more awkward Hermione felt. She couldn't stand to see Draco's face, because he was someone who had seen her so unprotected and vulnerable: They rightly should never have had to speak to one another again.

Draco, on the other hand, enjoyed the silence. It allowed him to get quite a bit of thinking done. For instance, why was it that Hermione had a hard time looking him in the eyes? Was he imagining this? And if he was, WHY became the important question. Had he done something wrong?

This is where his brain rebuked him: Since when had he and Hermione been on good terms, anyway? And when had he stopped calling her Granger?

She was avoiding him. Why? Well, he wasn't about to grovel at her feet to find out.

He stole a sideways glance at the young woman riding beside him and felt a weight on his chest, as though stones were being laid upon him. He hated looking at her – hated to think of her lying in the woods that day…

But he couldn't look away. Was it her vulnerability that had attracted his gaze? It was a very peculiar feeling not to want to be around a person, but not daring to leave their side for fear of their well-being.

The troupe stopped to make camp in a stretch of woods to shelter from the rain.

"You'd better be careful," John warned as he rode by, "there's rumored to be dragons in the woods!"

"Great," Hermione muttered under her breath. Draco snorted.

As soon as they stopped to make camp, Patrick approached her, the first time he had done so since their arrival.

"The Weasleys are trying to contact you," he relayed, pointing to a small fire someone had managed to get going through magic.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she was astonished at how elated she immediately felt. It was a connection to the outside world! A connection to those she held dear, once more!

Draco rolled his eyes at her back as she hurried away. Yet, this was something so Hermione-like, he found he would have been disappointed had she reacted in any other way. There was something charming about the simplicity of the things that made her happy.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione exclaimed at seeing the disembodied head in the fire.

"Oh, Hermione dear, how are you? Are you okay? Are you warm enough? Are you hungry? How…"

"I'm fine," Hermione interrupted, "I'm perfectly alright. Do you have any news? Did something happen?"

"Not that we're aware of," was the kind-hearted reply, "we're just very worried about you… poor Ron's got himself all in a tizzy."

Hermione swallowed loudly as she thought about Ron for a moment. How much easier it would be if she'd stayed with him! In fact, if she had stayed with Ron, she would never have met Alan and she might have been at home to prevent her parents' death. Her whole summer could have been Malfoy-free.

"Oh, hold on – Harry wants to talk to you, dear…"

Hermione nodded and waited for Harry's messy, black hair to take Mrs. Weasley's place.

"Hey, Hermione," he greeted brightly, his eyes making a quick surveillance of the area before focusing on her.

"Hello, Harry. How have you been? What about Ginny? Have you heard anything important?"

"Fine, fine and no," he answered, green eyes aglow with delight at seeing his friend in one piece. His eyes had never looked like that until Voldemort had been finished off. In a lower voice, he continued, "How's Malfoy? He hasn't been out of hand, has he?"

Hermione sighed, "No, just his usual grouchy self. I really don't think he's out to get me or anything, Harry. I think he wants to get out of this just as much as I do."

Harry nodded glumly, almost as if this hadn't been the answer he'd been hoping for.

Adrian passed through Harry's limited vision at that moment, "There are two of them?"

Hermione giggled quietly, "No, that's Adrian. He and Draco just kind of look similar; The two of them quite hate each other, actually. They dueled this morning."

Harry filled Hermione in about miscellaneous unimportant aspects of life that'd happened recently: He was nearly done rebuilding his parents' old house, Bill and Fleur were expecting another child, Mr. Weasley got a promotion… it seemed like Hermione had been away for years, considering all the news she was receiving.

They talked for only ten minutes before Hermione had to go in order to properly take care of her horse.

Draco watched her retreating form away from the fire and saw her shiver from the sudden cold. He wanted to give her his cloak – but the very idea of his doing something like that for her startled him and he banished the thought completely.

.

.

Callidora Black had always been in control of her life. She had even had a say in her own arranged marriage, back when she was eighteen. Today, she remained one of the most respected witches in the world, meeting daily with important people in the wizarding community. Not to mention she was filthy rich.

But something was going on in her life right now that Dora was not in control of: Her granddaughter.

The headaches that girl caused!

But really, Dora kind of admired the way in which she had been deceived; The entire plan was completely spontaneous, otherwise she might have detected an idea or a plan beforehand. She had been skilled in occlumency – and while she was by no means an expert in the field, she knew enough to get her by.

A knock on the door of her study brought Dora back into reality. "Enter."

"Just me, madam," George the butler responded as he pushed the door open. "Would you be interested in taking your tea?"

"I would, thank you George."

George nodded his head and produced a full tea set, seemingly from nowhere, though it had probably just been in his pocket, shrunken down to size.

After serving the tea, George made a slight bow and made to leave.

"George," Dora said thoughtfully, "would you mind entertaining an old woman's silly notions for a moment?

"Of course, madam."

Dora sighed and gazed into her tea, pouring cream liberally into the cup and watching as the color gently swirled into tan. "I've just been thinking about Hermione quite a bit lately…"

"Ah," George replied, taking a few steps forward. "If I may state my opinion, madam – the young miss seems to be quite intelligent, gleaning from the short time this butler has known her. I'm positive she is able to take care of herself."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're right," Dora answered, taking a sip of her tea. "But I do wonder, George – do you think it was ME that made her run off like that? I fear I may be one of the worst grandmothers that ever lived!"

"It is as my grandfather used to say, madam: We are, after all, only human. I personally think you made quite an amiable grandmother."

Dora forced a wan smile, "I do just worry that perhaps I forced a marriage upon her. Maybe she is one of those revolutionary-type girls that like to pick out their own spouse, do you think?"

"One can never see inside the minds of others," George responded diplomatically. "Perhaps we should have executed a search upon the backgrounds of the two young people first, madam?"

"How do you mean?" Dora's brown furrowed.

"Perhaps the two knew one another from their school days in a negative manner."

Dora sat back in her armchair, swirling her tea around with her forefinger. It was an interesting notion, to be sure – that the two had known one another beforehand. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. They had both gone to Hogwarts and were very close in age – for all she knew, they might have been in the same year!

What a disaster to have paired up her most beloved granddaughter with someone whom she might not even like!

"You raise a good point," Dora sighed. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for Jeannie to have never been in that AWFUL fire…"

"It is indeed a crying shame," George agreed, executing a slight bow.

"Thank you, George."

"Madam," he stated simply, bowing once more before taking his leave of the room.

Dora stood up and set her teacup down, her mind trailing over the details of the recent future: The devastating fire, her granddaughter being placed under her care, the unfortunate pairing, Hermione running away…

But yet, they had run away TOGETHER… that had to count for something.

In Dora's experience, unarranged marriages tended to end badly for everyone. Andromeda Black was one classic example… a disgrace to her family because she ran away with that Muggle, Tonks. Then they had little Nymphadora, who married a werewolf and then orphaned her only child in fighting against the Dark Lord.

No, arranged marriages always tended to be for the best, in her opinion. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were a perfect example – they had never met before their wedding day and they were generally good people, united in their interest for the well-being of their only son.

In fact, their marriage had survived even during that unfortunate time when Narcissa had caught on to Lucius's mistress. It was most certainly the end of the mistress – and with good reason – but it had brought the couple closer in their marriage in the end.

"What's wrong with that Malfoy lad, anyhow?" Dora pouted to herself. "He's of good breeding, he's skilled in all the areas a young man should be skilled, he's intelligent… not a bad looker… Oh! And think of how lovely the great-grandchildren would be!"

Dora stood in front of the vast window, vacantly tracing her wrinkled fingers over the cedar frame. The grains in the wood stood out magnificently, drawing attention to the simple beauty of the design.

That was what Hermione was: The grains in the woodwork - such a small part of the family tree, but without her, the grace and prestige would be missing. She would continue the pureblood line; She would remain true to her lineage. She OWED that to her family…

There was another knock on the door. "Enter," Dora barked, harsher than she'd meant.

The door swung open by itself and Lucius Malfoy stepped in, a smirk gracing his face. "We've found them."

.

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Author's Note: Well I hope you're all happy that I left you with a cliffie I do love them so and I haven't really been up to par lately.

Bundles of thanks to brooklynsam3, TheGreatAmericanNightmare, Readerforlife, RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder, xxDrAcO'sBaby4EvErxx, GoodCharlotte615 and BelhavenOnTap for the lovely reviews!

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