"Silence is the safest course for any man to adopt who distrusts himself." - François de la Rochefoucauld

Chapter Twenty-four: Through the Dark

Hermione had, against her will, been thinking about a lot for the better part of the night.

It seemed like only yesterday she had been trying to steady her breathing next to him every night on the Worthington's futon, under that large, fluffy comforter; his smell was still fresh in her memory, as was her embarrassing conversation with Harry.

But she had also been suffocating for weeks; his indifference and rudeness had fatigued her to the point of exhaustion. She could still vaguely hear the sound of his laugh when he'd made fun of her. And then suddenly, her airways had been unblocked by the very source of her choking!

So after Draco had kissed her, only hours before... she'd had the bizarre urge to throttle him.

It was too violent a thought to go without analysis.

They had understood each other perfectly in that moment - fast and loose, no heartbreak or commitment or seriousness... nothing has to matter... but no. After she had thought about it thoroughly, she had concluded that just based on the way their feelings had come about... it was impossible.

They couldn't just snog and pretend that everything was normal between them.

"Are you still awake?" she asked aloud.

"Yes, actually," he whispered back. He was facing away from her.

Hermione attempted to choose her next words carefully, but knew that as soon as she let them fly she would regret them. "This is really weird still."

Draco sighed. "Yeah. I'm rushing you, aren't I?"

She'd had that problem with Viktor, actually - for a while he had been content to just watch her study, or play with her hair while she read a book... but when he'd begun trying to kiss her, or do something of that sort, she'd always pushed him away. It had definitely annoyed him after a while. "No, it's not that. That kind of stuff is hard for me, I'm not experienced. I'm sorry if I sound like a prude."

His serious tone turned warm. "That's... not at all what you sound like, or what I was talking about. I meant with us, not with... sex."

Hermione blushed. Why was she always the first one to jump to conclusions? "Right. Sorry."

There was silence for a few seconds. "Well, I do know a contraceptive charm - "

"No," Hermione huffed, a little annoyed at herself. She had walked right into that one, and she knew it. "I can't even wrap my head around you sometimes, let alone my... legs."

"Merlin, Hermione - you should really learn not to talk like that." She could hear his smirk.

"Oh, shut it," she said, squirming on the blanket so their backs were no longer touching. The charmer in him was coming back, and she really didn't want a repeat of earlier to further confuse her thoughts.

The area became more densely populated as they travelled further south, so they were not able to apparate hundreds of miles at a time as they were before. They were formally in Sweden before long, passing the occasional Swedish town as the landscape softened. Draco followed a road from a distance until they ended up in a town he couldn't pronounce the name of. They were in dire need of supplies; Hermione's skin was starting to fade to grey and their stomachs rumbled constantly.

"Here," he said, placing the sunglasses in Hermione's hands. "We're going into town to get some more food. How are your wounds doing?"

Hermione felt her chest. The scabs had begun to flake off, revealing pink, mending flesh. It still remained to be seen how bad her scars were turning out; when she passed her fingers over the skin, it was slightly raised. "They're fine - nearly there."

He nodded, deciding that now was not a good time to lift her shirt to check them, and picked Loki from off the ground. Loki was now the most cumbersome of their cargo; it was easy to forget about such a docile, self-sufficient animal.

He handed Loki off to Hermione and began to search for an eatery. Unfortunately, it was not as easy a search as he had hoped; most of the eateries were crowded with muggles. That was a confrontation he really wanted to skip; they both looked like they had been in the woods for days and he did not want to advertise this fact.

After almost two hours of searching, Hermione became restless, and her usual defense mechanism - latch onto his arm and ask questions - surfaced quickly. "Didn't Sasha give us some muggle money? Surely you've seen something by now."

"Yes, but we look a right mess - people are already staring."

"Well, lets clean off our clothes then."

Draco rolled his eyes and walked Hermione behind a store, setting the bag against a dumpster. Using his wand, he tried to suck the dirt off of Hermione's clothes, and then his own. It was not likely that they could take full showers here, though they needed some; they had run into quite a few water spots during their week in Sweden but hadn't found anything substantial enough to soak in.

"All better," he mumbled, pocketing his wand. "If we eat somewhere muggle then you're going to have to take care of the money bit."

"Wait..." Hermione said suddenly. "We were given euros."

"... Okay, so what's your point?"

"I... I don't know if we can use it in Sweden. I never have."

"... You mean the muggle money?"

She nodded.

This was another yet another weird thing about muggles - they hadn't figured out that one currency, used literally everywhere, was the better way to do business.

"I mean, Sweden is part of the EU, but... they use something else here. Krona."

Draco shook his head, pushing down all the questions that had just surfaced in his mind. "You worry too much. If we can't pay then we'll use a Confundus Charm."

Hermione grimaced and allowed herself to be led out of the alley. Draco, besides not being able to read many of the signs, was worried about attracting too much attention, so the task was to find somewhere they could go unnoticed. He eventually found an eatery a ways down the street that looked popular and big enough to take international customers but slow enough to not attract any unwanted attention. Draco pushed the door open and led them inside.

"Can we pay with this?" Draco asked, and held up the muggle notes.

The hostess, who had brilliant auburn hair and a happy-go-lucky demeanor, faltered. "Jog förstår inte..."

"English tourists? Ursäkta mig, Erika. Follow me." A tall, thin waitress ushered them past the confused girl and to a table.

"My name is Kajsa - it is a pleasure to meet you. Would you like me to get a basket for the cat?" It seemed that she spoke nearly perfect English, save for the noticeable gaps between syllables and words that should not be spaced apart.

Draco looked over at Loki, who was eyeing the silverware on the table with interest. "Um... actually, she's very obedient. But if it is required, then yes."

"Very well. I will ask the manager if we take euros; if you need any other assistance, let me know."

Draco nodded and turned to Hermione. The sunglasses that had once fit her face rather well were now sliding down her nose a bit - it seemed like she was thinning out from the lack of non-magical food, all the walking, and the stress of running from dark wizards.

"Alight, Hermione. You've been avoiding me all week."

Hermione turned her head away and set Loki next to her in the booth. "No I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

"It's kind of hard to avoid someone you're with every second of every day."

Draco shook his head. "If you believe that, then you're not nearly as smart as I thought."

There was silence as Draco looked at the pictures in the menu. Swedish eateries were new to him, let alone muggle ones; the only hope he had to take his mind off of Hermione and try to figure out what to get was to pick out the prettiest looking dish and stick with that.

:I'm not trying to avoid you,: Hermione began, her thoughts clouding his brain like smoke. :It's so hard to feel comfortable around someone you used to dislike, someone who made you feel bad. Someone you... now want so much.:

Draco had a hard time repressing his thoughts after such a comment; for a moment, they rang loud and clear in his head, displayed as a neon indicator of his emotions. Hermione's sincere aura tinged with green hope and a little pink embarrassment.

Draco calmly pushed her out of his head and opened his eyes.

"Draco?" she asked, her voice quivering. It was the same voice he'd felt in his head.

"It's hard for me too," he responded, the foreign words in forest green print in front of his vision blurring. He set down the menu. "I wanted this, us just being, so much. But it's still… kind of painful."

"This shouldn't be painful... it should make you happy." She paused. "But you don't know if it is real yet."

Draco nodded, then followed with "Yes," since she couldn't see. Once again, she understood perfectly.

Hermione closed her black eyes. :I'm sorry about avoiding you.:

:I know.:

He missed this - feeling that green sunshine that was her mind. He could wrap himself in it no matter how he was feeling.

The only problem... was that he was still being safe.

He knew this - there were times when he was feeling impulsive enough to "just go for it" - just go and make the decision that led to what he wanted on the surface. Make me light and happy in this moment, and fuck the consequences. But most of the time, he felt like he had to test the waters. A million what ifs constantly harassed him, making him want to backpedal and distance himself - even just run away.

But he'd chosen this - he'd chosen her over numerous other optimal choices, because he knew that in the end, he would regret wasting the opportunity just to know. He would regret not having her around.

He'd regret the possibilities.

Who'd want this? Fools wanted this, and he liked to think that while he wasn't the sharpest licorice snap, he wasn't a fool. But... if he had to drown, which is what he was doing - he'd drown any day in that green sunshine.

Draco started when he realized that the connection was still open. He was too surprised to be angry - plus Hermione's mental grin could have blinded a basilisk.

:Our feelings are completely matched, aren't they?: she boldly asked.

:Yes.:

"... Have you decided what you'll be having to drink?"

Draco came back to reality to discover a slightly intimidated Kajsa standing in front of their booth with a small leather notepad. She had probably been standing there for a bit, not wanting to cut through the thick air surrounding them.

"Hermione, what would you like to drink?" he asked the woman sitting across from him, more to get her attention than to be polite.

"Oh... um, lemonade if you have it."

"Yes. And for you, sir?"

"Pumpkin juice." Hermione tensed up across from him. "I mean… I'll have what she's having."

"Okay. I spoke to the manager, and he is not willing to except the euros - but I have made my own arrangements for you. I hope this is okay." She was wearing a sad smile now, along with that kindly look that Sasha Worthington had always seemed to have when she asked him how he was doing.

"Thank you," Draco said, making eye contact.

When Kajsa left to retrieve the drinks, it hit him.

She cares. They just care - the lot of them.

These muggles they kept running into were actually just good people!

There was no chance of the discussion starting again after having been interrupted at such a sensitive point, so Draco resigned himself to watching Hermione stroke Loki absently. No doubt the subject would be broached later, most likely sometime after darkness had fallen over the sky. It was in that silence, his brain muddled by fatigue from the days activities, that he could speak without reserve.

"Holy fucking shit."

"Ron, this isn't Gryffindor Tower. Mind your mouth."

It was a rare thing to have Harry Potter scold anyone for use of foul language (given his history of glamorous bouts of irrational anger) but Ron was too out of it to notice. "I know... just... holy fucking shit."

Admittedly the footage - from Harry's own memory - of the day they battled with the Death Eaters in the Worthington's living room was very... undeniable, and the icing on the cake to all the other evidence.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and put his wand back in his pants. He turned to the others around them. "Do you all agree that this evidence proves our theory?"

Kingsley nodded, watching the memories in the pensieve glitter. "It looks pretty real to me."

Harry glanced at Ron - he really did look like a fish with his mouth open like that - and kicked him under the table. Now was not the time for his friend to start breaking apart again.

"I have a different theory," said the matronly witch across from Harry. She stood up to address the table.

"If you all remember, a few things were stolen from the Department of Mysteries a month ago. Spellbooks were taken from the Hall of Growth, as well as an uncharted prophecy from the Hall of Prophecy." The group nodded. "What if this ploy to capture Hermione Granger - a muggleborn girl who besides her knowledge of internal affairs in the Department of International Magical Cooperation - which many other capable wizards have - does not stand out as a target - "

"You forget, Matilda, that one, Hermione Granger is a very close friend of Harry Potter, and two, what it means for her to be a muggleborn - which you have already stated."

"That is not the point, Nora - the point is that this ploy - this supposed mission to capture her could actually be put in place to distract us from the real issue. And that is: what on earth could the Death Eaters want with a prophecy and research material from the Hall of Growth? I think we should be focusing on that instead of the dynamics between a fugitive and a kidnapped muggleborn."

Ron's face began to redden.

"It could be linked," a man put forth. He stood up. "Think about it. If the prophecy was uncharted, it could be about anyone and anything. And the spellbooks that were taken were specific to research about the origin of magical properties in the human race. Perhaps - if they are still the prejudiced bunch they are known to be - "

" - Prejudice isn't a sin, Marty."

"Think that if you want to. My work in the Department of Mysteries is far too valuable to be in the hands of... racist pricks who'll misinterpret everything and use it to fuel whatever dark dreams they have!"

"Alright, that's enough," Nora said fiercely. "This meeting was not called to address theories on what the Death Eaters are up to. Most of you were brought here specifically for your connections within the Wizengamot - yes, I said it. No good deeds go unpunished but some good deeds deserve the softer side of the whip." She stood up. "Now, does everyone agree that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are indeed working together and that Hermione Granger is not being held against her will?"

Harry looked around the table - there were a few reluctant nods.

"This is important. If and when the Death Eaters go down, it is important to let the entire magical community know that it is a good thing to come forward with information, and a good thing to trust the Ministry's guidance. This way we prevent more rogue bludgers like Malfoy and others I could mention." Nora gave Harry a look. His days running from both the Ministry and the Death Eaters were not forgotten. "Draco Malfoy will be made an example of - so that it will be easier to round up the remaining support for the Death Eaters. You all understand politics. This is the way things work."

She turned her attention to the man sitting on her left. "As you know, we're placing a mole in the Death Eaters. He will slowly infiltrate the core of their operations and can soon provide us with information on this big plan they are conjuring. Based on this, you know that finding out what they are up to is our highest priority. So Jules, I will need your help in giving everything - including this thing between Malfoy and Hermione Granger - the proper amount of news coverage in The Prophet. No details of course - just the story."

Jules fidgeted under her gaze. "I'll see what I can do. The public is fickle - they ignore what they grow tired of reading."

Nora faced the room again. "The Department of Magical Defense is counting on your support and cooperation. Don't let us down."

After everyone had dispersed silently, Harry sidestepped his chair and approached Nora.

"You scared the hell out of everyone."

She shrugged. "Sometimes you just need things to be done a certain way... and fear is a good motivator. Oh... and Ron, I'm sorry we didn't show this to you earlier. You do know your part in this, right? Harry told you."

Ron nodded tiredly. His dull eyes and skin reflected his state of mind. "I have to play nicely and help Harry."

Nora smiled. "As much as you can. Just... try not to dwell on the personal side of this. This is bigger."

"It doesn't feel bigger," he muttered.

"It will..." she replied, gathering up her notes. "Very soon, I fear."