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Hermione's Point of View
When I wake up the air feels different, lighter, and fresher. Breathing it in makes me feel as if it's the first breath after being submerged underwater for days. It stretches inside me, reaching towards areas rarely touched. It feels like the first deep breath I've taken in a long time. When I try to move there is a weight across my left arm and shoulder, almost pinning me down against the rock. I open my eyes slowly trying to free myself from the obstruction, but the light is so strong that I have to immediately block it out with my arm. It's dizzyingly bright. Looking downwards,- against the light- I notice Malfoy; eyes closed and unaware. Stolen by sleep with his right arm covering mine, holding me down.
I shimmy down gradually away from him, while the rock beneath me scraps a little against some exposed skin. I finally right myself and turn to look down at him again. Again, I marvel over how rare it is to see him like this. Unguarded and harmless. I allow myself this stolen moment to really look at him and take in the face that I haven't really seen since we were back at Hogwarts. To my incredulity, he has some stubble now and it's almost curious to see it, solidifying the knowledge that he's no longer a boy.
On closer expectation, I see where the stumble ends around his jawline and close to his nose is a handful of the faintest freckles just getting ready to appear. In all the years that I have known Draco Malfoy, I have never seen, nor pictured him with freckles. But there they are, another reminder that he's different now too. For a moment I wish I could inspect inside his brain, swim around for a while, and see what's changed up there. Open his eyelids and examine his eyes and see if that has changed much too. A bird squawks stridently overhead as it makes its way to the shore, gliding fluently down to rest just where the sea water reaches.
I see him then, making his way slowly across the beach towards us. I sit more upright and a little further away from Malfoy. Remembering the fact that none of them has really seen me be with Malfoy in that sense. No one has really seen me be close to him and it feels strange in a way for them to see me like that with him. It was a secret before and it practically feels like I'm still trying to protect that secret, all this time later. I step down from the giant rock that sits against the sand dunes behind and meet Harry in the middle, casting a peek back over to make sure I haven't woken up Malfoy. He doesn't stir and I'm far enough away that our conversation should get swallowed up by the sea.
"Hey," he says gently, holding his robe close against the breeze. It's getting darker now and the sun will start to make its descent soon.
"Hey," I say back, a little more enthusiastically, trying to start the conversation off on the right foot. The conversation has a better chance of going downhill fast if you start it off on a lower note, I think. Behind Harry, partially obscured by his robe, a small mound of something is hidden.
"What's that?" I question, leaning around him to see more. His robe laps in the breeze, covering it. He sighs and pulls it around to the front and my heart drops in my chest with a deafening thump. I panic and turn over my shoulder to look at Malfoy, still peacefully asleep.
"Are we leaving right now?" I ask, unnerved.
"I'll need to talk to him first, Harry. I must explain. I can't just disappear on him!" I start, making my way back towards the rock.
"Woah, Woah! Wait, Hermione! Relax, no one is going anywhere okay? At least not tonight," he says pulling me back.
"Okay, then why do you have our road gear? Our camping gear?" I inquire, pointing to the bag. We've taken that bag with us everywhere over the last year. Harry pauses, rearranging his feet in the sand.
"Bill wants us to stay," he starts with a smile.
"He hasn't seen Ron or Ginny in a long time, so he asked us to stay the night and Remus agreed, it's just that…" Halfway through his sentence, it makes sense to me, all of it. The gear bag, him coming out here alone to talk to me.
"It's just that Fleur doesn't want Malfoy staying in the cottage," I supply for him, saving him some of the embarrassment, I guess. He looks away guiltily.
"Remus said you could go back to Grimmauld Place if you wanted but I said no. I want you to stay here. Even if it means that Malfoy stays," he adds the last part silently, it mixes with the wind so I can barely hear him.
"We can go back, Harry. It's fine. I know it makes everyone here uneasy to have Malfoy around so we can just head back tonight and meet you guys tomorrow. It's not a big deal," I concede.
"No, I brought the camping gear out because I don't want you to go, Hermione. I want us to be together. You, Ron, and me. I don't want us to be separated. Not after what happened at the Manor, okay? So, stay, please! I can help you set up the tent for Malfoy if you…."
"For Malfoy and me, you mean, right? Him and me? Did you think I was just going to let him sleep outside by himself like some kind of unwanted pet?" I question.
"No, I guess not," He replies. I take the tent and camping gear from him and smile a little uneasily.
"Thanks, but it's okay I can set up the tent. I've watched you do it hundreds of times. I'm sure I can manage."
"Okay, I know you can. There's food in there too, from Fleur. Sort of a way of saying sorry, I guess. She put some fresh muffins in that she made," he adds.
"It's okay Harry, you don't have to over-explain. I get their apprehension," I admit. The issue is not that they're so wary around Malfoy, it's that I understand. I get it and I don't need the over-explanation. I can't expect to show them a picture of the colour Black and ask them to recognise it as yellow. It doesn't work like that especially when they've spent their whole lives thinking the colour was black. At least not right away. In fact, they might never see him as I do. I might always have to live like that, with this knowledge. I might always have to live at this distance. Again, that is not the issue but more the fact that I don't mind. I don't care what they think and maybe that could change with time. It might feel like this right now because my relationship with Ron and Harry has been stretched since we've been on the road.
"Thanks, Harry. I got it from here," I say. I give his arm a gentle squeeze for comfort, and he takes my arm in his, rubbing delicately over the words etched into the skin there.
"Are you okay, Mione? Really? Do you need me to do anything? I can talk to Fleur again, I tried to explain-"
"Harry I'm fine, honestly. I promise," I say, cutting him off before he can start again. He lets go of my arm reluctantly and gives me a curt nod as he makes his way back across the beach towards the cottage.
Draco's Point of View
When I wake up it isn't peaceful. I guess I should be used to it by now. I haven't woken up calmly in a long time. I awake to the sound of her struggling and I immediately bolt upright, searching my pockets anxiously for my wand. I see her properly then when the sleep has clearly from my eyes. She's perched on her knees a few feet in front of me with a large sheet and a couple of rods in her hand. I run a hand over the back of my head and feel a bruise there as I scoot forward on the rock. What a stupid place to fall asleep. The light in the sky has faded considerably, bringing with it a fierce cold wind.
"What are you doing?" I ask, rotating some of the stiffness out of my neck. She jumps, startled, dropping the bundle of rods and turns towards me with a desperately lost expression.
"I thought I could do it without magic, you know because that's what we always did when we were on the road to avoid any noise. But I just can't do it and it's not like I've seen Harry do it a million times or anything. But I just can't seem to get it right and it's driving me crazy!" she rambles.
"What are you trying to do?" I ask, eyeing the mess sprawled out on the sand in front of her.
"Set up this stupid tent," she answers.
"Are we going camping?" I ask, mockingly. She narrows her eyes at me.
"Sort of," she admits, turning to brush the sand off her knees and shins.
"Harry said that we're staying that night here so I thought it would be fun if we camped out on the beach," she says, still turning her face away from me. I sigh a little and she turns around to look at me.
"Granger, come on," I say. She sulks.
"What?"
"You're not good at lying so I don't really know why you bother in the first place," I say leering at her. She turns back towards me and plops her knees back into the sand.
"Fleur doesn't want you to stay in the cottage tonight so Harry brought out the gear that we use on the road," she admits. I slide down off the rock and brush off the back of my pants.
"Why do you seem upset Granger? It's not like I expected to be sleeping between you and the weasels or anything. I'm used to sleeping in much worse places than a tent, believe me," I joke. She smiles back at me, although rather weakly.
"You can use magic too, Granger. I don't think there's any need to prove that you can set up a tent. I'm sure you can. But I also don't want to be standing here when that hits us," I say, pointing up to the clouds gathering close overhead getting ready to blow in our direction.
"Oh shit, okay!" She moans, standing up. She shakes off her pants again and mumbles the spell. We both step back and watch as the tent sets itself up. Granger watches intently, following with her finger the placement of all the rods.
"Oh, it goes at the bottom," she comments. The tent springs to life and slowly the movement stops.
"Okay it's ready," she says and gathers the rest of the gear outside, throwing it inside and making her way inside. I stare up at the clouds growing larger and closer and take a quick look at the cottage before making my way inside. I notice one of the curtains move just before my head dips inside.
"Woah," I comment when I'm inside. Granger is in the kitchen area, pulling out some pastries from a bag.
"This is a tent?" I comment and she chuckles a little.
"It's a disillusionment charm to make it appear smaller on the outside," she clarifies and grabs some water out of the bag also, carrying them over to two deck chairs.
"And you were trying to set this all up by hand?" I say. She scoffs at me.
"What's that supposed to me?" She asks, placing a judgemental hand on her hip.
"It means we would have been better off walking back to Grimmauld place than waiting for you to set all this up."
"Ha! You're so funny Malfoy!" she comments, pulling out her wand.
"Will I tear it all down again and we'll see how you fair setting it up? Huh?" I reach forward ready to take her wand away, but she swipes it back behind her back.
"It's okay Granger, I'll save you the embarrassment of watching me pull it off for another day, okay?" I say sitting down on one of the deck chairs.
She rolls her eyes at me and takes a seat in the other chair, plopping down with the muffins and water still in her hand. The chair is stiff and hard, and I imagine she regrets the force in which she threw herself down. A fierce wind tears through the tent like a firecracker, rippling through the loose tarp with a screeching roar. The clouds must be getting closer now and soon the rain will start thrashing down on the tent. Granger readjusts herself, pulling her robe tightly around her.
"Forgot how chilly it can be in here sometimes," she explains.
"I can cast a warming charm if you want?" I imply, taking my wand out. She smiles, picking at the muffin. I cast a small one around us and pin it to her so it will follow her if she decides to move. I don't mind the cold, it keeps me alert and being here, so far away from anywhere I know makes me feel like being alert would be in everyone's best interests. I think of bringing up the fact that I recognised the house again but think against it. Maybe now is not the best time.
"So how did it go in there? With the Weasel? Does he have anything original to say?" I ask, instead. She hands me one of the muffins and I tear off a piece as I wait for her to speak.
"As expected," she answers quietly, pensively as she picks at the little nuts in the muffin.
"Granger, you know you don't have to do this. You know-
"Don't," she warns, not taking her attention off the muffin.
"I don't have the energy right now. It's exhausting enough to have to argue your side to the boys. I don't want to have to do it with you too," She argues.
I take a drink of the water bottle she gave me. It's warm and somewhat stale.
"Now imagine you didn't have to argue my side to anyone," I say, sardonically.
"Please, Malfoy. Let's not go there. I'm worn out," she pleads. I nod my head. She's gotten very little sleep in the last couple of days and maybe I keep forgetting what happened at the Manor because I want to. But I can't forget the kind of mental toll it would have taken out of her. She must be exhausted. I watch closely as she takes small pieces off the tip of the muffin and lets them sit in her mouth to dissolve. She covers the muffin back up and rests it on the side of the armchair.
"Finish it," I say pointing towards the muffin. She creases her brows at me. A look of disbelief flickers across her face. She's ready to argue if needs be.
"Finish it, Granger. You need to eat something solid," I say, gentler this time and my tone seems to dissolve some of the anger creeping its way onto her face. She picks back up the muffin, mulling it over for a moment before she takes a larger bite, this time allowing me a complacent look. She wipes the crumbs off the corner of her mouth, pensively.
"There's something you said before, or maybe just an idea I've gotten in my head," she starts.
"What idea?" I press.
"Just that the last year or so you've been living somewhat the same as I have. In-between safe houses and on the road and I guess I'm not entirely sure why?" she questions. I scoff a little and roll my eyes.
"Do you think Potter and the Weasel would be so suspicious of me if they knew I wasn't sitting to the right of Lord Voldemort all this time whispering tactics in his ear? Would they be so worried if they knew I was cast out very early on into this to do the groundwork?" I ask sarcastically.
"But why? It's not like I ever pictured you as his right-hand man or anything. But I was so surprised to see you that day in the forest. I wasn't expecting it," she says.
"Why do you think? Come on Granger you're smart. I was cast out from the Manor the minute I fucked up on that Astronomy tower and my father had this look on his face like he'd been waiting years to do it," I explain. I step up, rather ungraciously from the deck chair and make my way to the back of the tent. Some of the loose tassels at the bottom of the tarp are banging forcefully against the metal rods. There are three single beds; two arranged as bunk beds and one single to the left. I throw myself down on the single bed and stretch out, having to shove both my feet through the metal bars at the end to get even the slightest bit comfortable.
"Did your mother say anything? When you were asked to leave?" she pushes. I throw my arm over my eyes to block out the fluorescent light beaming down from the bulb above. I chuckle a little at her question and I know she's frowning at me.
"Granger, my mother has never spoken unless spoken to and especially not if my father is in the room," I explain leeringly.
I think back to what she said in that house in Norwich before Granger and I left. I think of the sound of her voice and the words she used, how she comforted me; how she yelled. The look in her eyes when I turned to walk away.
"Part of the reason I wanted to leave when we were back at that place in Norwich was that I just didn't know her. That was the most that I've heard her speak consecutively in years. She was angry that I choose you over her. But there was no real connection there; with her. I guess it was a duty that caused me to put my hand on her shoulder when we apparated out of the Manor. I felt like I should like it was my final task as her son to try and help her."
"But she didn't want your help?" she asks quietly, afraid almost that I might snap at her if she asks the wrong question.
"The funny thing is she did want my help. She just didn't know how to ask. She wanted me to tell her what to do. That's the system she's used to. But at some point you have to make your own mind up," I explain.
Granger makes her way over to me and I shift over in the bed thinking there's no way she'll fit in the tiny space beside me. But she does, and there's something horribly worrying to see her body fit and fit comfortably into that tiny space. We both stare up at the roof of the tent as the wind vibrates the tarp against the rod. Granger sinks her head down into the crevasse of my shoulder and that's where we stay for a long time. Just listening to the sound of the wind and rain knocking against the tent. When she's finally asleep I turn towards her and rest my head on top of hers, pushing aside her loose curls with my nose. I think of my mother somewhere back in the manor; cold and isolated.
Against Granger's warmth and the familiar smell of her hair, I can't even imagine a world where my mother could think I would ever step foot back in that manor again.
Of course, that thought was before I heard the sound of several feet smacking against the sand outside.
My, how sweet convictions seem to crumble to dirt when I'm around this girl.