Chapter twenty-six

Hermione found her way to a local supermarket, only seven miles away from the motel. She bought some food supplies, as she believed the motel would have nothing to offer her except maybe a vending machine with far too old root beers and chocolate bars. When she finally got back from the long walk, she instantly collapsed on the bed. She studied the ceiling which looked as if it could fall apart at any moment. She wondered why she had not heard anything from Ronald since she left, and then realized she had forgotten her phone on the bar counter. But before she got up from the bed to go get it, she fell asleep.

A squeaky sound woke Hermione up what seemed like hours later. She got up from bed and looked outside the little window, which was the only one in her room. It was all dark outside, no stars nor moon in sight. The only light that lit up her room, and only just made her able to see, was the digital clock on the night-table. Hermione messed around to find a light-switch somewhere on the walls, but as soon as her fingers felt something fury, she jumped back in surprise. She remembered that she had brought along a torch, and found it in her bag. She shoved the light at the spot, where she had felt the fury thing. And there it was. A rat. It sat and starred back at Hermione, making squeaky noises. For a moment she was paralyzed. Then Hermione threw herself out of the door and down the stairs into the reception, where she luckily found the owner of the motel behind a desk.

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you, but there is a rat in my room," Hermione spat at the clearly shocked man.

"Rat, you say? Well, then you won't be sleeping alone tonight," he laughed. Hermione did not find it entertaining at all, and as soon as the man figured that out, too, he frowned. "Sorry, miss, but there is nothing I can do about it. All our rooms are booked tonight."

"There's got to be somethi-" she begun, but was cut off by another man who had just entered the reception.

"Hermione, I thought I heard you. You left this at the bar. The Weasel called," Draco said and handed Hermione her phone. She was not sure whether she was the most angry about seeing Draco once again, or that Ron had cared enough to ring her up.

"Oh, you two know each other?" the owner asked. He had followed their conversation, but of course not understood the entire story behind it.

"No," Hermione spoke, just as she heard Draco tell him yes.

"Problem solved, then! You can stay with your friend, mister - er - Malfing."

"Malfoy," Draco corrected him, "and that sounds like a lovely idea." Hermione knew he was only saying so, because he knew it would piss her off.

"Surely you will have a couch or anything I can crash on instead?" she asked the owner.

He shook his head. "Sorry, miss." He returned to the book he had been reading when Hermione had found him.

"You're stuck with me. Again," Draco smiled. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"You sleep on the floor!" Hermione hissed, and then went upstairs to get her stuff.

Draco's room looked exactly like Hermione's - except for the rats, of course. Draco, though, had been able to find his light-switch, so the nearly broken lamp gave a dim light in the room.

Hermione got herself comfortable in her nightwear - black silk shorts and a t-shirt that said 'I like my coffee black' - and brushed her teeth. She realised, to her own pity, that she had left behind her eye-make-up remover, and therefore had to sleep with it on. She sighed at the thought of how terrible she would look in the morning, and reminded herself to buy a new one as soon as she landed at her hotel in Scotland.

"Nice shirt," Draco said - the first words the two had exchanged since down in the reception. Hermione didn't reply to his compliment. She knew he was just being sarcastic about it, and never meant to compliment on her shirt to be nice. That was not the Draco she knew. Or well, at least it hadn't been. But maybe he had changed. Maybe he was a better person now, and she was just too blinded by the past to see it? After all, he did seem happy with Astoria. Like, really happy. It wasn't just something he pretended because he got tons of benefits from it.

Hermione looked at Draco. He wasn't wearing a shirt, so his now tan skin was showing, and so were his perfectly shaped abs. He was defiantly better looking now, than he had been in Sixth year. Draco noticed Hermione starring, and smirked at her.

"So.. Can I Slytherin?" he asked, pointing at one-man bed. Hermione chocked a laughter. No, some people never change. Not even Malfoy.

Hermione put her hair up in a bun, and hoped that it magically would look amazing and wavy the following day. If she slept with it loose, her hair would be all straight and boring by morning sun. People had always admired her hair, but Hermione couldn't help but feel that it was all fake.

"Hermione, you have to talk to me. I'm pretty sure the two of us did not just end up in the same train compartment, let alone in the same hotel room in freaking Carlisle by coincidence!" Draco said after a while of silence. His voice was lowered so that none of the other guests could hear them, but the determination in it shone through.

"I do not want to speak to you, all right? I for one do not believe in such thing as faith, or whatever you are suggesting this is." Hermione got into bed, under the thin and cold duvet, and rested her head on the pillow. Draco had settled with the floor and tons of blankets, just as Hermione wanted it. Though, she wished he had just taken her old room. "And we're not in Carlisle, but some damn small-town close to. Get your facts right!"

Silence filled the room once again, and this time Hermione was sure, it would remain that way until the break of dawn. Before falling asleep she had all the worst-case scenarios running through her head; the train still not working in the morning, so she had to spend one more night in this rotten motel; the train working, but then breaking down once more further down the road, so she would have to spend a night in some other rotten motel; Ron finding her and dragging her home. That made her remember that she still had not called him back. As much as she despised him right now, she couldn't help but feel a bit bad for just leaving him like that, so she made sure Draco was asleep, and then called up Ron.

The phone rung about six times before he picked it up. Hermione realised how late it actually was, and felt sorry once again.

"Hermione?" Ron's sleepy voice sounded through the phone.

"Ronald, hello." Hermione hesitated. What should she say? 'I'm sorry for going abroad without you, but you're an arse'? "I should've called earlier-"

"Blimey, Hermione, where are you? All this stupid note says is that you went to Scotland for some fresh air!" Ron didn't seem to have heard anything Hermione had said.

"That's where I am. Well, sort of. I'm just outside of Carlisle on some motel, but I'll be home again on Monday, I promise."

"But why the hell Scotland? Why now, and why without your husband? Who are you with, Hermione?" Sorrow filled his voice. Hermione knew Ron thought of himself as a brilliant husband.

"I'm alone, I swear," Hermione replied with her gaze glued to Draco. Lying had become so ever easy for her. "Ronald, can we talk about this when I get back? I am pretty tired right now."

"Sure. Er, just.. have fun, or whatever."

"I will," she said, as wasn't it the complete opposite of what she was.

"I love you," Ron spoke. The words had become so meaningless to Hermione, and she wasn't sure Ron knew the true meaning of them.

Hermione hesitated. "I love you, too," she finally spoke after a bit too long silence. Her voice was shaky, but she hoped Ron didn't notice.