"The rush of battle is often a potent and lethal addiction, for war is a drug." ~ Chris Hedges

Chapter Thirty: The Art of Losing

"I've finished the official manifesto," she announced, twirling her wine glass in between her fingers. "It's quite appealing. At least, it will be to Ms. Granger, and to the world."

Her minions nodded, their eyes shining with something like admiration. Despite the fact that their plan was disrupted by the escape of Hermione Granger, it seemed that things were finally going to turn out okay. They knew they were right to allow Master to lead them.

Originally, she had planned to capture Granger, quietly, and then somehow reassure everyone on the other side that things were normal. This would keep them from getting suspicious.

Imperioused Granger, or at worst, Impersonated Granger, would tell them that she was away, working on some project. They would believe her, since it is in her nature.

And then, slowly, they would entwine their fingers in the Ministry once again. Get the ball rolling once again, and eliminate possible opposition smoothly. This entire plan was supposed to go smoothly.

Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy just completely destroyed that.

The only thing that Master could be thankful about now was the fact that the magic that bound her to the compound should expire by midnight tonight. With that gone, she could put the final steps of her plan in motion.

The ride was relatively quiet for days; Draco only stopped the car to get gas and get sleep, realizing that the longer they drew out the trip, the more chance the Death Eaters had of knowing their location. He could not risk that… not this close.

At the same time, he found himself succumbing to fear - fear of the end, fear of what would happen even if things went according to plan.

The only thing he could do to keep these thoughts away was talk to Hermione, rub her back and her hair as she dosed, and immerse himself in the winding road, endless mountains, and stretching sky.

"You've been awfully quiet today," Hermione commented, saying this even though she knew why he was being quiet and was thinking about the same thing.

"Yeah," he murmured, knowing that his eyes were drooping and they would need to stop to sleep soon, despite it being the middle of the day. "I'm still messed up from the time zone change."

She realized that this was an excuse but nodded all the same; she didn't feel the need to get one-hundred percent honesty out of his mouth when she knew the truth anyway.

Invisibility spells were involved in passing through the border; Hermione grumbled something about breaking laws but went back to stroking Loki absently and rubbing her mind against Draco's.

"Have you thought about what's going to happen once you go back?"

Was he really asking this? Now, of all times, when they were days away from the end of their mission?

"Yes, I've thought about it."

"Well?"

Hermione shook her head. "There isn't much to say."

"There is quite a bit to say, and you know it," he replied quietly, keeping his eyes on the winding road in front of them. The mountains were thinning, giving way to the occasional house, more cars, and a calmer landscape.

"I suppose I'm going to have to talk to Ron. Things are… were… complicated there, and I shouldn't have jumped into anything without… better closure."

"Shit happens," Draco replied shortly, a possessive note in his voice that made him sound slightly childlike. Hermione smirked a bit. "And if Potter thinks for one second that I will sit quietly while he treats you poorly about it he is dreaming."

"I can deal with Harry," Hermione sighed. "And I'm not even worried so much about Ron. Really… I'm worried about the rest of the family. And my coworkers."

"Nora has told them I'm sure."

"It'll be different when they see for themselves, trust me."

"Perhaps."

The silence that stretched on after this made Draco uneasy. His original thought was right - they were running out of time.

Everything was starting to run out, actually; they had very little muggle money left, and the gas gauge was dangerously close to Empty by the time they reached Whitehorse. Draco thought furiously on how he was going to get them all the way to Calgary without incident when things were already starting to come apart and they still had days ahead of them.

"We've been driving for a week," Hermione commented tiredly. "Surely you want to rest up a bit before we continue. And lay out a specific plan while we're at it."

Draco nodded. He really didn't want to go any further than this - after they passed Whitehorse, they had to be very careful to avoid catching No Name's attention. It had been hell to get to this point when he had escaped.

To him, it wasn't even a good idea to be seen in public at this point, but they really had no choice at the moment since they really needed decent food and a good night sleep before they went further.

And… Hermione's hair could definitely use a good brushing. No offense. Just observation.

He took the next exit to backtrack into town and found a hotel of decent size. It was crawling with muggles, but Draco still took precautions - such as casting a temporary hair-changing spell over his head that turned his hair brown. After checking himself in the rearview mirror - that look wasn't half bad for him - he gathered their belongings into the duffel bag. Hermione waited for him to lead her out of the car.

Squatting was more difficult in this hotel - he knew it probably was not a good idea to use magic to hide them, so he tried to get in by using as little magic as possible.

Hopefully no one would check into room 320.

As he closed the door, he was reminded strongly of the night they had spent in Karlstad, though this hotel was definitely less lavish than the Swedish one. He briefly eyed the multicolored floral print bedcovers with distaste before he threw the bag next to the corner table.

Like that hotel room and the room they'd shared in Bergen, there was one bed, one bathroom and a window. He looked over at Hermione.

She was becoming increasingly quiter with him, as he'd been noticing; she had warned him at the start of this journey that he would be hearing her opinion quite often, so where was it?

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders tentatively. "I'm not gonna lie, I don't want to do this anymore."

Hermione leaned back against him and lowered her arms so Loki could jump down and pad into the room. "I don't either. But we started something, and we have to finish it. You said so yourself."

He nodded, slightly turned off by her reply. "You're right. I just wish sometimes that I didn't hate her so much."

"Use that hate."

He walked her into the room and sat her on the bed, going towards the bathroom so he could shower. It was almost customary now that he showered first.

There was something awkward between them at the moment, something he couldn't place. Once again, he found himself trying to picture their school days, trying to conjure her image from his memories. It was almost as if she didn't exist there anymore; she only existed in front of him.

Was that it? It was almost as if he couldn't actually remember hating her, while for her, it was like he was a completely different person… because she couldn't see him. For all she knew, he wasn't even who he said he was. It could all be a front, and he could be some random nobody, some Death Eater, or some impersonator.

He also couldn't help but think about what happened the last time they were in a hotel room. He ran hand through his wet hair, noting that it was long enough for him to see - it was already blond again - and put his head back under the torrential water. Intimacy was not something he should be thinking about at a time like this, but he honestly wondered when they would get another opportunity.

"Draco? Do you mind if I join you?" came a shaky question from the bathroom door.

"Of course not," came the immediate reply. Apparently Hermione had been thinking the same thing; that must have been why she was so quiet. He stood there for a second, letting the implications of her wanting to shower with him hit him a bit too late, but opened the curtain nonetheless to retrieve a towel to dry his face. She was leaning against the door frame, almost facing the wrong direction; Loki was twirling around her feet, tail grazing Hermione's jean-clad, grass stained knees.

When she turned to face his direction, he was briefly startled into wrapping the towel he was holding around his waist before remembering that not only was it a little late for that anyway, but also that she couldn't see him.

Hermione could feel his nervousness as he took his time helping remove her shirt, socks, and jeans. He backed away slightly once she was down to her plain white undergarments.

"You don't have to shower with me if you don't want to."

"I want to," she murmured, titling her chin down and fingering the straps of her bra. "Besides… I could use a little help with my hair," she added in a lighter tone.

Hermione willingly asking for help… usually, she was all about "let me figure it out," and "I'll do it myself." Was she getting used to him taking charge? It was in his nature to want to be in control of everything; that was why he didn't want the Ministry involved in his plot, and why he devised the plot in the first place. She was the same way, but due to her blindness it seemed that she was forcing herself into a backseat role, not just in this mission, but also with everything else.

In Hermione's mind, she knew that she was tired of doing all the thinking for every plot that she herself had been a part of, especially with Harry and Ron. Draco seemed to figure things out well enough, and unlike her previous adventures he technically knew what they were dealing with more than she did.

Besides, she did make valuable contributions to their journey.

She kept trying to tell herself that anyway.

She let him slip her straps off her shoulders; the stiffness of the bra held it up even once the straps were down. He briefly pulled her to him as if to hug her, letting his fingers find the back of her bra… no, he didn't really know how to undo it. Hermione curled up into his wet embrace as he pulled the thing down to her stomach, trying not to let it twist and become like a rope against her skin.

He turned her around and knelt so he could finish taking off her bra and pull down her underwear. Hermione stood as still as she could, realizing that she couldn't tell what he was looking at, or if he didn't like what he saw. She hugged her arms to her bare chest, cool water droplets squishing between her limbs.

"Don't assume I know what I'm doing," Draco put forth when he stood up. "Purebloods are brought up to stay virgins until marriage. I'm trying to figure this out as much as you are, so stop worrying so much."

It sounded harsh, but that was the way he was. She was getting used to this tone. "I'll try not to."

He cleared his throat and steered her into the waiting shower, only removing the towel when she became preoccupied with the hot water.

She could feel him staring at her, feel his eyes on her body. It was hard to keep from shaking as she leaned against the tiles, letting the water saturate her hair and engulf her face. Like the other times she had showered, she sighed happily as she let the hot torrential water burn through the surface layer of sweat and grime. She felt around the shower for a bar of soap or bottle of shower gel and snatched up a small object.

"That's conditioner," Draco said quietly, and stepped into the shower with her.

Hermione unconsciously gave him some space as he found the correct bottle and unscrewed the cap. She was quickly becoming disoriented, not remembering from which direction she stepped into the shower and from which direction the water was coming. She pushed down this fear however and stood still, using her fingertips to feel the shower tiles.

Cool hands were suddenly on her back, rubbing shower gel across her shoulders. Hermione quickly moved the lumpy wet mass of her hair aside.

She wanted to know what he was thinking as he smoothed suds down her back and both sides of each arm. He gripped her waist for a brief moment before reaching around and cleaning her stomach, made flat by the lack of an abundance of food and an increase in exercise and stress.

Oh no. He was flush against her back! Hermione titled her head up, realizing that she had been almost cringing the entire time he had been washing her. His hands were still on her stomach, and she just knew from the position of his chin on her shoulder that he was looking down at her body.

"Draco - "

He stepped back a bit, under the shower head, so the water hit her hair, and began combing through it with his fingers, using both hands to split apart knots and pull loose strands away so they could fall into the drain. Her hair was clinging to everything; it was so silky it seemed to match the texture of the water running through it. He hadn't realized her hair was this long actually - usually her hair was curly and fuzzy, but now that the tendrils were weighed down by the water they went all the way down her back. He continued to comb through it, hoping that he was doing a sufficient job.

Her hair had always been a nuisance to Hermione. She loved and hated it, depending on the day, it seemed. While she recognized that it was unique and soft, she also recognized that it was messy and big. Only when she had started to wear it in a french braid did she feel like people actually started to take her seriously and look into her eyes as she spoke.

It was quite something to feel Draco attempt to run his fingers through it and touch it in such a way. He'd always given her a hard time about her hair before, and even recently she had felt as if her hair was something he'd have to overlook in order to appreciate her on a physical level.

"Your hair feels amazing when it is wet. Did you know that?"

She shook her head slowly as to not dislodge his fingers from her scalp. He had worked out quite a few large knots, something that even with a comb would have taken Hermione longer.

He ran his fingers through one last time, attempting to catch any remaining loose hairs. He collected a few between his fingers and let the running water wash them away.

Before she knew it, he was rubbing muggle shampoo into her scalp and she had nearly forgotten about how very naked they were.

"Muggle shampoo smells odd," he commented, trying to steamroll over her silence. He was probably used to the earthy smells of wizard hair potions; she could sense his distaste over the rich perfume-like smell. It was soon washed out, leaving Hermione's hair still smelling slightly of grass but cleaner than before.

"How are you doing?" he asked, moving her hair aside and rubbing her shoulders.

"I'm alright," she murmured.

He turned her to face him and took a step forward so the water wasn't hitting her in the face. Hermione cringed a little bit as she felt something graze her hip. She tried not to think about what it was.

He noticed her sudden nervousness. "Hey, stop that."

"Sorry."

He pulled her closer by her hips and bent to kiss her mouth.

Despite the fact that she couldn't see him, she still knew that a kiss was coming, based on the way his body shifted in front of her, the way she could feel his breath. She let it happen, opening her mouth more after a few seconds.

She found herself getting used to the rhythm of blind snogging, even after only a handful of times. In the beginning the hard part had been resisting the urge to giggle or cringe as she occasionally felt her teeth click against his. But now, she could feel what he was going to do next, feel how much he needed her… and actually enjoy the sensation of his tongue.

She'd never thought she'd enjoy this so much, but kissing him was incredibly tantalizing; the water between their lips made their kisses slick and hot, and she quickly found herself out of breath.

He was smiling when he pulled away briefly. "You taste like apple again."

"Again?" She brushed some wet fringe out of her eyes. "That means I need to brush."

He shrugged. The thought had occurred to him years ago that when he should be married, he doubted he could deal with either his wife or himself being dirty or unshaven when they'd be intimate. As it turns out, he didn't really care either way, though being all perfectly clean and pampered for such an occasion was ideal. He was a bit too preoccupied to care about something like Hermione's prickly legs or the stubble on his chin that was rubbing against her jaw.

Hermione suddenly realized that she was standing there like a statue, her arms at her sides. She panicked briefly before she lifted her arms and circled them behind his back; Draco's hands became tight on her hips and moved up to squeeze her breasts.

"Eh," came the response; she disengaged from his mouth, her eyes wide open. The warm sensation she'd felt on several occasions had suddenly flared in her lower body.

"Sorry," Draco mumbled, mentally kicking himself.

"It's perfectly fine," she replied apologetically, and stepped forward again. "We're kind of together, aren't we? I just got nervous."

"We are together, yeah," Draco said, as if to reassure himself. He hadn't really thought of their relationship in that sense yet; there was almost no need to say something like this out loud. It had been an assumption until this point. "But it's about time we got dressed anyway."

He retrieved another towel from the rack and shut off the water before wrapping it around Hermione's shoulders and rubbing it against her. This towel was rougher and shorter than the ones at the Manor, but nothing was quite like things at the Manor, he realized.

"Thanks," she murmured, slightly relieved to be somewhat covered up once again.

He gathered up his own discarded towel and toweled off before wrapping it around his waist and fetching some semi-clean clothes from the duffel. He returned with the dress and a few things for himself.

"I like when you wear this," he said, letting Hermione use one hand to feel the familiar fabric of the sundress. She smiled.

"I'll wear it then." She dropped her towel to the floor after a moment. He forced himself to keep from staring at her body by lifting the dress over her head and watching her pull it down. Briefly, his brain backtracked to his fourteen year old self and thought gleefully, I just saw Hermione Granger naked! He cleared his throat and readjusted the dress so the front was not twisted, trying to suppress a grin. His fourteen year old self would have had a seizure.

"Thanks," he said, planting a kiss on her neck. Hermione shivered. That was kind of nice as well.

She tilted her head back, her arms finding their way to his torso, and she put her hands on his stomach. He stopped briefly, seeming to notice that this was the first time she had touched him like this, and as she ran her hands over his smooth stomach she was unable to stop from blushing at how solid it felt. He planted a stronger kiss on her neck, one that tickled her neck so much it seemed to extend down to her belly, then back up. She let out a small gasp.

It was as if the energy and desire he'd felt for her that brief moment in the shower reawakened. His hands smoothed down her sides quickly and fitted under her bum, where he squeezed and lifted her into the air. Hermione immediately wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her back into the room.

She didn't realize where he was taking her until her back met the bed and he was on top of her, already kissing her mouth.

His restraint was apparent, though so was his excitement. She liked this better than straddling him; there was less she had to think about, and as such she could literally just lie back and feel. She found herself trying to place everything that was happening and why it felt so right. She knew his weight on her should feel heavy but he seemed to fit against her perfectly; his chest molded against her body, and he lifted her leg so his hips fit between hers.

Draco, still naked with nothing but a bunched up towel around his waist, was feverishly capturing her lips. She gasped as his lips left hers and began to trail down her body.

That electric thrill she had felt on so many occasions came back, mingling with her desire. Where was he going to kiss her next? She didn't know, as he leaned away each time. His kisses became gentler and spaced apart as he lifted her dress up to her stomach and continued kissing down her hip, paying particular attention to the spot her knickers usually cover. She was smiling when his lips connected with hers again, and could feel his happiness through his own.

"What's so funny?"

She shook her head. "Nothing is funny. I just... huh." She sighed, knowing her cheeks were red, and covered her face with one hand. She felt amazing. "That was wonderful."

"We haven't done anything yet!" he laughed.

"Well, that felt like something," she replied, smiling widely, "Mr. Malfoy."

She laughed when he kissed her again.

"How dare you speak across me as if I am a child. As if I don't know how to handle my own department!"

"Your methods are completely against Ministry standards! You cannot deny this. And I'll speak to you in any manner I wish."

Harry backed away from the closed door of the conference room, wondering who was giving Nora trouble now. They had enough stress without dealing with the greedy hands of every high ranking Ministry official in the building. Besides, they had a schedule to keep - they were going after Hermione and Malfoy tonight and needed to be completely ready for the mission.

I better just put this on her desk instead.

Harry clutched the book of records to his chest and walked back down the hallway, turning the corner and sidestepping a flustered secretary to reach Nora's office door.

He promptly dropped parchment book he was holding, not even flinching when the loud thud reverberated down the stone walls.

The door was ajar. Nora never left her door open like that.

He was almost afraid to step inside, as if he already knew what he was going to find.

As he peered around the doorway, something on her desk caught his attention. An expressionless geisha mask sat among the various parchment rolls and bleached muggle documents there. There was a small spatter of blood just above the left eye.

Harry backed out of the room and tore down the hallway, barely reducing speed enough to burst through the door of the conference room.

"No Name broke into your office!"