"Again!" Hermione swiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and flicked it away. The room was hot and the air smelled tangy like rancid citrus. But, that could have been the residue of thrown hexes and curses.
Malfoy grunted as he got to his feet.
His eyes were laser-focused on her; his mouth already a sneer in preparation for the insult he was about to spew. It was what he did whenever she won. Which turned out to be often. She liked him worn down, instead of a put-together Healer with too many goals and too much time.
She liked him hurt, even if it would never be the kind of pain she wished on everyone.
For ignoring her.
For doubting her.
For abandoning her.
And she knew he didn't deserve it. But, he would receive it, in retaliation for the welts that rose on her forearms and legs, at least. And because he was a sneering git with no real creativity to his magic.
"Granger, this is an infirmary, yes," Malfoy dusted off his robes and swiped his hand through his hair to take the damp dangling strands out of his vision, "but that doesn't mean we need to occupy the beds."
"One more time." Hermione's voice was bordering on begging, but she would deny it if anyone asked.
"We've been at it for two hours." Malfoy glanced at his wristwatch and groaned. "And we've missed lunch."
"Aren't there rations upstairs?" Hermione stood up straighter, coming out of her defensive position. Malfoy had always brought their food to her in the infirmary, where they ate together, apart and in silence. She never once questioned what would happen if he missed getting the food; he never had.
Malfoy scratched his jaw, and even across the room, she heard his nails against the invisible stubble there. Her body twitched in response, and she shook her head to rid herself of the sensation; like the hairs-standing-up-on-the-back-of-her-neck kind of sensation she couldn't quite place the causation of. He rolled his eyes.
"I shall endeavour to make you fetch the rations sometimes, Granger." Malfoy sat on her bed, his posture defeated. "We're all starving. There isn't enough food to go around. We can't feed an army, house them, train them, and fight."
"Isn't that stupid?" Hermione sat at his desk and tried not to be interested in the smattering of parchment across the wooden surface at her elbow. "Why aren't we looking for food?"
Malfoy shrugged. "I try not to get into it with them. I've suggested several times that we need to do something about it." His mouth twisted into a humourless smile. "I can only help patients so much if all they have to eat is soup."
"You brought sandwiches a couple of times," Hermione said with a tint of hope in her voice. It must have gotten better, right?
"I made those." Malfoy sounded exasperated, but his face remained unchanged. Tired and emotionless. Hermione's eyes widened involuntarily.
She meant to say thank you. " That's why they were questionable," she said instead. Malfoy shot her a look, and she grinned. "I mean, they were okay."
"Don't go flattering yourself, Golden Girl," he tossed at her. He knew she hated the moniker. She glared at him, attempting to bury a dagger in his chest with her eyes. He smirked. "I was tired of the soups and had to steal some bread from the farm over in the other valley."
"Uh huh," Hermione teased, in her most sarcastic tone. He exhaled through his nose and Hermione prepared for a quip. He didn't have any.
"So, do you want to continue or …" Hermione swept her hair off her face and tied it away. Malfoy followed the movement like a cat following a toy. She knew he hated her hair. He always grumbled about how it was in the way. So on purpose, she never tied it up.
But, it was too hot in the room; with all their action and motion, she could feel her shirt sticking to her back.
"Drink water first. And sit there where I can see you, so you won't start duelling without warning again," Malfoy instructed. She was not about to oblige simply to satisfy his power trip, so she stood, not looking at him, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Out of his sight.
She might have heard a small, impatient noise, and that was enough amusement for her.
In the past day, since they started with her 'training', her limbs began to ache in sharp spikes of pain where she knew her muscles were being pushed beyond their limit. But, the pain was nothing like her contractions, and this pain was temporary.
They had to tear to get stronger.
She flexed her forearms as she studied herself in the mirror. Her flesh was not plump or supple. Her skin looked like paper moulded to muscle; she was lean and thin. Her biceps were little bumps, and if she pressed her hand over her stomach, the slight plumpness she would have sworn was never there, was now in fact, gone.
Malfoy was right. They were starving.
She heard the door shut and groaned. He left. She pushed him too far.
The infirmary was back to its regular arrangement by the time he returned. She was surprised to see in his hands, of all things, a rabbit.
"Do you know how to do this?" He gestured with the lifeless body in his fist and it flopped around. It was much longer than she ever thought a rabbit's body could get. She narrowed her eyes at him, confused.
"No?" She felt useless. Malfoy lifted the rabbit to eye level and stared at it. She cocked her head. "Why would I know what to do with it?"
"You were out there," Malfoy gestured in a wide circle – rabbit still in hand – in what Hermione assumed was meant to indicate outside, "and you, Potter, and Weasley all survived."
"Why do you think I had anything to do with the cooking?" Hermione retorted. Malfoy gave her a really lift of his eyebrow and clicked his tongue.
"Have you met Potter and Weasley?" The rabbit was now at his side. The whiteness of the cloudy sky backlit him as the door swung lazily in the mild breeze. "They're useless."
Hermione almost snorted. Almost.
"Well, come on." She rolled up her sleeves and pushed past him into the fresh air.
"You do remember, then?" Malfoy sounded hopeful. "I didn't catch this thing for no apparent reason?" Hermione laughed and trudged away from the house.
"We start with a fire, right?" Hermione looked around and settled onto the grass cross-legged. Logic had always been her friend, and she intended to use it now. She may not remember cooking, but fire was a safe place to start. Malfoy looked at her helplessly. "And, it needs to not be drowned by the wind, nor dampened by the earth, or-"
"Granger, there's a stove upstairs." Hermione felt the blush rising hot and fast under her blouse and crawling up her neck to her cheeks. Malfoy looked bemused. "I meant, I don't know how to skin a rabbit. Or, generally cook it. But, there is a stove upstairs."
"Oh." Hermione got back to her feet, and Malfoy looked like he was hiding a smirk. "I'm going to pretend this never happened." She strode past him and heard him following her march back to the house.
"I thought you'd remember because you're brilliant at duelling," he called after her. She paused. His footsteps stopped in time with hers.
Without looking at him, her face scrunched up in mild confusion. The house went a little blurry from her narrowed eyes. "What does me being brilliant at duelling have to do with if I'd know how to cook a rabbit?"
"You were the best in the training class. You, Potter, and Weasley trained hard. All the time I'd hear the room going off with bangs and pops, because you were in there after hours. I think in preparation for the Horcrux hunt." Malfoy didn't sound near, but his voice felt like a physical touch. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
"You're saying I retained some of that?" Hermione turned to look at him now and his eyes had gone a little dark. A tiny crease adorned his brow.
"I guess it's like riding a bicycle." Malfoy tilted his head back and forth, like he knew his metaphor didn't make much sense. "You know what to do when you get on, you just need to readjust and let your body do what it knows."
"You know what a bicycle is?" Hermione blurted. Malfoy looked a little flustered, which she only knew from their constant time together. To anyone else, it would look like he had something in his eye and was trying to blink it away.
"Just," he said with as much patience as a man could have when speaking to someone who kept sidetracking. "You're still instinctively very good. And I have no idea what you three did while out there, it seems like you've built good muscle memory."
Hermione stepped toward him, a smile playing across her face. She might have let his smugness wear off on her, because she was feeling smug a lot lately.
It was better than feeling the alternative.
Malfoy didn't move away. He looked down his nose at her and smirked a little, like he knew what she was going to do and was egging her on.
"I reckon that rabbit would be alright out here for a few minutes. Don't you?" Her wand was already in her hand, and the warmth of his body wafted toward her in the cool breeze. She hadn't bothered with layering up, and she was cold, but she wouldn't show it. She had every intention of lighting a fire and for that fire to keep her warm.
Now she was happy to be near him.
For his warmth.
Obviously.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Hermione spun around and jolted backward at the same time. A flash of copper came into focus, and then stormy blue eyes. "Ron," Hermione whispered. Her body tingled with excitement. Malfoy would have said it was instinctive, her reaction.
But, anger quickly rewrote her want for a hug or affection. He was staring at her like she was a stranger. She couldn't say that she recognised him either. His long hair whipped around his head like a wildfire, the earring dangled listlessly in the wind, and a scar shone on his cheek– which was only visible in this light.
"Didn't take you long to move on," Ron spat, his wand in his hand. Hermione knew his anger was directed at her, but the magic would undoubtedly be directed at Malfoy.
"Move on?" Hermione bristled with incredulity. " Move on? " Malfoy shifted beside her, and she could feel his warmth again. His presence.
"Weasley, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Malfoy warned. He didn't have his wand out. He had no intention of defending himself. Hermione looked at him quizzically. His face was hardened; his eyes were dark, turbulent grey, his jaw set, and his mouth in a tight line.
"Merlin," Ron laughed disbelievingly. "You're already fucking each other."
Hermione raised her wand without hesitation. Ron stumbled back. His eyes widened as he registered what she was doing.
"Hilarious that you bring up the subject of moving on Ronald," Hermione hissed. "Pop quiz, quick. I know you're usually terrible at these kinds of things, but this answer is relatively easy."
Ron swallowed. Malfoy had gone perfectly still at her side. She stepped ahead of him so she was blocking him slightly.
"Who's been here, the entire time , since losing our child?" Hermione felt like a mad woman. Her hand gestures with her wandless hand were extravagant and did nothing to convey the vastness of her anger. "And who has literally been gone, the entire time, since losing our child?"
"Hermione." Ron had the audacity to step forward. She jabbed her wand into the air, and he paused. Malfoy's hand was on her hip, abrupt but soft, like a warning. She could feel it, Ron couldn't see it. She thought Ron was going to do the right thing. Like grovelling for her forgiveness, and apologising for his cowardice. "No one even knew you were pregnant."
"Weasley!" Malfoy's hand flexed on her hip slightly as Hermione's blood pumped furiously into her ears. "Shut your mouth, now ."
Ron looked at him, anger bleeding from his eyes. Hermione would have denied it all then, really. Except, Ron was hurting at the sight of her with Malfoy at her side. At the thought of her with someone else. And Ronald Weasley, in her mind, deserved all the pain she could give.
"What did you come here for, Ron?" Hermione suddenly felt nauseous. A wave of fatigue rushed through her, and Malfoy's hand was gone.
"I came to tell you that Harry and I are leaving for a few months." Hermione let her wand drop. All the fight was gone from her. "You won't be able to reach us via owl."
"Isn't Sirius with you?" Hermione felt her head throb, and she closed her eyes to block the light.
"Yes," Ron shifted slightly, "I meant, Harry, Sirius, and I." His expression hardened again, and his eyes dropped to the space between Hermione and Malfoy. He looked as offended as if they were holding hands. Hermione glanced down and found Malfoy holding his wand, drawn, but at his side.
"Go on then." Hermione flicked her hand at him in a shooing motion. "Seems like you'll miss me as much as I've missed you." She hoped it was a convincing lie. She missed Ron every day. When she had time to think about him.
Ron stood awkwardly for a moment. His eyes had lost their anger. He fidgeted and Hermione sighed.
"What is it Ronald?" she exhaled exasperatedly.
"My-" Ron glanced at the house, "my chessboard?"
"You want it?" Hermione was only a little surprised. Of course he wanted something of his. His possessions meant a lot to him, because he didn't have many. No one had many possessions anymore, but Ron always had few.
Ron nodded.
"I broke it," Hermione monotoned. "And I threw it out because it was taking up space." Like you did me , she seethed.
Malfoy shifted a little behind her. A soft exhalation of breath told her that Malfoy, at least, knew she was lying. She played games upon games against herself whenever she wasn't duelling him.
"Oh," Ron said stupidly. "Okay."
Taking Malfoy's wrist, Hermione pulled him back into the house so they could cook dinner. And left Ron Weasley abandoned atop a hill.