A/N- Hi, all! It's time to dive into the next chapter! Hope you enjoy it!
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By the time Theo and Pansy returned that evening, Hermione had managed to successfully ignore the tangible strain that was rolling off of Draco in waves. There was a layer of exhaustion to his voice when he spoke that left her feeling a fair bit guilty for pressing him for answers, but she chased it away over dinner by offering up countless questions to Harry regarding the rather peculiar fish he'd picked up for dinner from the marketplace.
"What is that called?" she asked for not the first time.
"Um, like I said, I think it's whitefish," Harry answered between chewing. "Ron, isn't that what she said?"
"Uh, yeah, I think so," he replied, biting into his shawarma.
Harry lifted his plate and reached out to offer her a taste.
She grimaced. "No, thank you, Harry. I have all I can do to finish my kebab."
Harry looked around the table. "Anyone else? Nott? Pansy?"
They both wore matching looks of revulsion, Theo even extending his arm to block the passage of the plate across the table.
Sensing everyone's hesitancy, he added, "I know it's not much for looks, but it is quite tasty."
Draco swirled his glass of water before quietly taking a drink. "So, when do you plan on showing us what you've acquired for our mission?" he asked Theo. "Please tell me you enlisted the help of Pansy when picking out our disguises- no offense, but you have an abhorrent sense of taste."
Theo tutted. "I make no apologies for having a penchant for the eccentric. You don't reel in a witch like this by blending into the scenery."
He glanced over at Pansy with a hungry glint in his eye and she winked back with a come-hither smile.
Disgusting, Draco thought.
"Where did you end up obtaining the hairs for the Polyjuice potion," Hermione asked, quickly trying to change the subject.
"An alleyway down in Wizarding Alexandria," Theo replied, chewing heavily. "Reminded me of Knockturn." When Hermione cast him a dubious glare, he added, "Oh, don't worry. We found a totally normal couple- horribly out of place. They turned tail when the dreg-dwellers started closing in on 'em. I think they'd made a wrong turn somewhere. But they barely noticed when we tugged a spare hair or two loose when they fled. You and Malfoy will be pleasantly surprised at how good you look when you transform into the pair. Now, Harry's- his was a fair bit harder to manage."
When Pansy made a face, Harry sat up. "And why was it harder to acquire a hair for me?" he asked, trying to disguise his concern as a casual inquiry.
Pansy and Theo shared a look. "Well, it was more difficult than it would seem to yank out someone's hair without them noticing," Pansy replied. "Which is why we decided to pay a visit to one of the local taverns where we thought we'd find someone who may be a bit- impaired- or rather too distracted to detect what we were aiming to do."
"Oh, don't worry. You won't be turning into the city drunkard," Theo added, alleviating Harry's look of consternation. "We managed to snatch a hair off some bloke's cloak while he was chatting up a witch at the bar."
Hermione swallowed hard recalling the hair she pulled off of Millicent Bullstrode's robes during second year, thinking it belonged to her- only to discover later that it was a cat's hair she'd taken. She'd spent nearly two months in the hospital wing recovering from that colossal mistake.
"Theo, you must go back into town and gather a different hair," Hermione said. "There's no way of knowing where the one you took came from. And we can't take any chances it's from a non-human source. The consequences for Harry would be catastrophic."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione shared a look that the others seemed not to notice.
"Granger, we're not fools," Theo said. "The bloke was a ginger. The hair is ginger. Here, if you're worried, have a look yourself." He withdrew a small vial from his breast pocket and handed it across the table.
Ron, Harry, and Draco studied it in turn as it passed beneath the pale kitchen lighting before it landed in Hermione's hand. She held it up to the ignited tip of her wand, examining it from nearly every angle before exhaling in relief. "Well, it definitely looks to be human, so we should be fine."
She was about to pass the vial back to Theo when she suddenly noticed the faintest hint of green distorting the normally neutral tones of Harry's cheeks. Perhaps a trick of the murky kitchen lighting, she thought.
Draco seemed to notice it too, but when he reached across to take the vial back from Hermione, she became so utterly distracted by the graze of his hand, that she barely remembered to question it.
When dinner had ended, everyone resumed their rightful postures about the sitting room, the former edginess of Hermione's pending suicide mission replaced with a pensive calm surrounding the newfound plan of a Hegazy soiree.
Theo and Pansy appeared to forget the very purpose of their presence in Egypt, if the puckish tickling and tugging of one another was anything to go by.
Hermione toiled with her hair, the gross display keeping her from being able to breathe properly while sitting on the couch only an arm's length away from Draco.
Harry lifted his head. "Must you two maul each other like a pair of randy nogtails? We're trying to figure out a way we can smuggle these Cauldron Cakes into the party without tipping off the guards. Hermione, do you have any thoughts?"
She'd already considered that very notion. "I'll have my beaded bag, Harry. I can cast a shrinking spell on the pastries tomorrow evening before we leave and tuck them inside. That way, when it comes time for me to offer the sleep-inducing confections to MacNair, I will already have them on my person. Have you thought about what you might do while Malfoy and I are searching the compound for the elusive pair?"
Like Hermione, he'd already fine-tuned the details of his part of the mission. "I plan to scour the castle for the Soleada. Knowing that it will need access to direct sunlight will narrow down the viable places it might be. I figure I'll start with whichever upstairs chamber contains the most windows and go from there."
"And you, Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to remain oblivious to the sludgy snogging noises coming from the other side of the room.
Ron seemed to notice too. "If these two ever decide to come up for air, we can fill you in on what the three of us have planned!"
At long last, Theo detached his lips from Pansy's neck long enough to mutter a half-drugged response. "If you lot would clear out of here maybe we could get the privacy we so clearly need right now." Then, without missing a beat, he delved back into consuming the pebbled skin at the base of Pansy's throat.
"I've seen about enough," Draco said, slapping his knees and rising to stand. "Granger, may I have a word with you?"
A bolt of surprise struck Hermione's face.
She couldn't imagine what would prompt Draco to address her, seeing as he'd seemed exceedingly content with ignoring her very existence, but she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth so she followed him into the lone bedchamber.
Once inside, it became increasingly apparent his harried departure served exactly no other purpose than to permit her to escape Pansy and Theo's lewd display.
She regarded him with trepidation as he removed various sundries from his overnight bag, dipping and diving any which way but in her direction, until the silence finally overcame her.
"Was there anything in particular you wished to discuss?" she finally asked, reaching into her bag to retrieve her kitten pyjamas.
With his back turned, Draco tugged the hem of his shirt over his head and tossed the crumpled heap into the mouth of his bag.
When the seconds bled into minutes without a response, she sighed.
So this was how the remainder of the night would pass.
Just as well.
While his back was turned, she took the opportunity to quickly change out of her clothes and into her nightwear.
Just then, she heard Draco clear his throat. "I thought I would save you from Theo's ghastly demonstration of how to ingest a human," he finally said, making a face as he sat down on the bed and slipped on his pyjama pants. "The sheer amount of slobber made me want to retch."
Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she slunk back onto her pillows, book in hand. "Far be it for me to judge. They're clearly smitten with one another."
Draco groaned. "Yes, I'm well aware of that fact." He dropped his overnight bag onto the chest of drawers and inched his way over to his side of the bed, book in hand. "I never thought I'd live to see the day that the pair of them could remain in the same room for longer than five minutes, let alone be seemingly head over heels in love with one another."
"Seemingly?" Hermione asked. "What, you don't believe they are actually in love with one another?"
Draco scoffed as he propped himself against the headboard. "If the best predictor of the future is the past, I'd give this whole amorous charade less than a fortnight to run its course."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, thumbing her way through to a page in her Perfectly Prepared Potions book, marked with the tickets Draco had gifted her. "So, you don't believe people can change?"
He looked over at her. "People? Yes. Pansy and Theo, no. They've been sworn enemies since the very beginning of time. In fact, I'd be willing to bet- " Just then, he seemed to recognize the tangled web of parallelism he'd just fallen into. "You know what, Granger- I've grown rather drained of this conversation. Tell me- what is it you're reading?"
She flashed him the cover of her Bridget Clausius book and smiled when she saw the second installment of Clausius' Boiling Baneberry series lying prone in his lap. "I've read all three of those," she remarked. "I found it especially useful in book three that Baneberry can actually be used for- "
"Granger," he interrupted, a frown suddenly knitting between his eyes. "Save it. I'm only partway through book two."
She eased the bed coverings over her legs. "Well, if you have any questions about the Tonic for Trace Detection, you know who to as- ."
"Granger!" he exclaimed, looking as though he may smother her with a pillow if she didn't stop spilling obscure secrets from his book. "Put a lid on it please, lest I toss you back out amongst the libidinous leucrotta shagging on our living room couch."
Hermione cringed at the vileness of his illustration, while also failing to contain her laughter. "That's fine. But let's not forget to whom this room belongs. If anyone is getting thrown out of here, it's you."
When their eyes met, Draco flashed her a roll of his silvery greys, her impish smile finally plunging them into amiable silence.
Like many times before, Hermione found herself reading and re-reading every line as she fought to expunge her mind of Draco Malfoy.
Only this time, instead of him flitting through her thoughts, he lay right beside her, shirtless, and radiating a heat so stifling her efforts to ignore him reigned futile.
As she lay there staring at the white noise of her book page, her eyes narrowed on the pair of tickets Draco had gifted her to meet Bridget Clausius. How foolish she'd been to think he'd want to accompany her.
She eyed him in her peripheral enveloped in his book.
Given the circumstances, it would be much too easy to segue into her invitation. She was sure that apart from Draco, there was no one else in the world who would appreciate the outing as much as she would. But something stopped her short of actually considering him. For one, she was sure that his beloved Antoinette would never allow such a thing to come to pass. Second, and worse yet, even if he were to agree to accompany her, she was certain her heart couldn't take the agony brought on by spending even one minute with the wizard she knew belonged to another. And then there was the fact that by then his life would surely be brimming with new romantic newlywed rendezvous. She stupidly wondered to herself where they'd be going on their honeymoon.
Draco looked up from his book. "What?" he asked, donning a befuddled frown.
She froze.
"What?" she replied.
His frown deepened. "What do you mean, what? You just asked me where I am going on my honeymoon."
"I did wha-? Well, I mean-" She tried to cloak the alarm in her voice, but nothing seemed to be working. Had she really just blurted aloud what she had been thinking in her head? That was entirely unlike her.
Too late to shove the escaped pixie back into its cage, she was forced to improvise.
"You must have misheard me," she began, her eyes furiously scanning the open pages of her book for any sign of rescue. The scramble to save herself required a near-crippling amount of effort and she almost recoiled, but then there it was, like a gift from sweet Circe herself! The chapter entitled Potions and their Pertinent Lunar Phases reached out to her like a lifeline. Breathing suddenly became easier. "I was just reading the part about an antidote for Angel's Trumpet," she said. "Did you know the potion requires a Flower Moon to counteract its deadly effects?" She nervously chanced a glance in his direction. "You must have heard me say Flower Moon, not honeymoon."
The look on Draco's face was priceless, lodged somewhere between amusement and blind irritation.
He gaped at her. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that where are you going on your honeymoon sounds anything like did you know the antidote for Angel's Trumpet requires a Flower Moon?"
Hermione fought the urge to look at him but instead read aloud. "The Flower Moon is the full moon in May, named after the flowers that bloom during that month. It serves as a reminder that everything is part of the cycle of life and death. Because of this, the antidote..."
"Granger! I know what a bloody Flower Moon is!" He sat up abruptly, now red-faced from the persistent audacity of her denial.
It took every shred of her dignity to keep her composure while he stared at her, the stillness in his eyes like a pointed finger. She couldn't back down now but couldn't afford to further agitate him either. A rush of nervousness overcame her when he squinted, his stare lingering on her face longer than she felt she could weather.
Then for some reason, his sights cut to the middle of the room and he shriveled back against his pillow like paper thrust into a flame. "Turkey, Granger. We're going to Turkey," he said, clearing his throat and staring at his open book. "Antoinette wants to see the famous Blue Lagoon Beach." Any sign of merriment he'd previously attached to his dialogue vanished like he'd just felt the stab from a dagger of frozen ice from a poisoned well.
The room seemed sterile, all the vitality drained from it with this one fleeting exchange.
This was the first time she could remember Draco using the witch's name as if she were a real person and it felt cold like a lump of clay. Had she indeed asked him where they were going on their honeymoon, and she'd no reason to believe she hadn't, her question had obviously struck something deep within him. It was as if lightning had just cleaved the night. And she felt sorry. More sorry than she'd ever been for once again dragging him back into what was sure to be a dark pit of hopelessness.
Malfoy didn't move when Hermione leaned forward.
"Look, I'm sorry if this conversation caused your mind to go someplace you didn't mean for it to go. Try as I may, I've no idea what it feels like to be married off to a stranger, to be forced to live a life drafted by another. I wish I could..."
"Can I be honest with you?" Draco asked quietly.
His question jarred her into disquietude, her mind suddenly paralyzed with a nervous uncertainty. Her heart began thudding in her chest and time slowed to a crawl.
This.
This was sure to be the moment she'd subconsciously been waiting for. When he'd finally drop the stone walls and whisper the secrets of his heart she so longed to hear.
The sudden impulse of a madman.
Hopeful as the break of day, she leaned back.
"Of course," she muttered, glancing over to see heavy grey eyes trained on her.
He sat up more fully, looking down at her. "If everything goes according to plan tomorrow, this may well be the very last time we are in the same place at the same time." He trailed off, hollow eyes following the long blanket trail to the foot of the bed. "And well..."
She sat up, readying her lips to meet his as soon as he got to the part where he couldn't imagine his life without her.
"And well, I'd rather take this time to..."
This was it.
He wanted to take this time...to steal kisses like a thief in the night.
Snog as wantonly as the mountain winds.
If he would just hurry up and get to the part where his hands were tangled in her twisted braid, she'd finally be able to breathe freely again.
She stilled, fragile as a spider's web, waiting as his silver eyes finally met hers.
He stared at her as if carving out a memory with indelible ink.
Then, head bent like a willow, he pillowed his lips against hers, the faintest touch of his hand on her cheek like a blind man feeling his way.
The contact seared white-hot against her skin like the heat from a blistering flame, scenes from their future playing like a movie reel behind her eyelids. She could taste the promise of a wedding, and children, and a beautiful country home upon his lips.
Then, just as quickly as the illusion began, it was doused like a guttering candle when he pulled away.
She froze, his kiss suddenly feeling like the sting of a scorpion.
With the upstroke of her finger on his chin, she tried to force his eyes to meet hers, but that only caused his head to dip lower.
"Draco," she whispered into the frail air. "What was..."
His forehead remained pressed against hers, piercing her like thorns.
She had to know what this was because whatever it was cleaved at her chest.
"I'm sorry," he finally managed, his breath shallow. "Goodbyes have never been my thing."
She thought she heard the shattering of her heart with the word, breaking as if an army of centaurs had just marched on her soul. Every nerve in her body felt like a harpstring ready to snap at the slightest touch.
He was saying goodbye?
Her lungs began to burn as if they were no longer made for breathing, a quiet rush of anguish and anger and all things unpleasant suddenly flooding her mind like why if they were ultimately destined to part ways would the fates have allowed her to have entwined her life so fully with his?
His kiss had not been one filled with promise as she'd so erroneously allowed herself to think. It was laced with the poison of finality, carving a spired wound across her lips. Agony and nothingness suddenly seemed indistinguishable, her body stuck somewhere between bleeding out and cauterizing for the length of several painful heartbeats before he finally looked up.
An unfamiliar emotion cloaked his face like gray clouds sweeping over a quiet landscape. This was a Draco she had most certainly never seen before. He looked broken, on edge. Somehow different than she'd remembered him being only moments prior.
A thin marble statue of despair.
"Draco, what is it?" she somehow managed, trying to be a lighthouse in the midst of this dark and troubled sea.
Everything in her mind blurred as she awaited his reply.
He leaned back, putting distance between them.
She felt the separation like the first chill of winter, but she held in the shiver it caused.
"It's just...," he began, carding a hand through his already tousled hair. He was struggling to find the right words. "I know this will likely be the last time we find ourselves under the same roof and while I'm sure by now we're quite the adept readers of Bridget Clausius' books on potions and the like, and I've no doubt you're eager to get to the part where all the antidotes for every which malady has been committed to memory, if I'm being completely honest, I would much prefer that we make the most of our time together in that..." He looked at her, his eyes no longer a silver sword of weariness, but rather a soft shade of a dawning autumnal day.
She blinked up at him, her heart a broken but hopeful dam of river reeds.
"Granger," he said, this time more quietly, more measured. "Would you return the favor and fall asleep with me?" He paused, the beginning of a crooked grin forming. "You know, for old times' sake," he added.
She stilled under his gaze, unsure of exactly what he was asking. "Isn't that what we have been doing? Falling asleep with one another?"
"Well, yes," he replied, his eyes darkening a shade. "Only, I was thinking more...Gods, Granger, don't make me say it." The tone of his voice was a playful mix of cheek and frustration.
Her nerves eased. This Draco she most certainly recognized.
She flashed him the beginnings of a stubborn smile.
Then she heard the rustling of sheets as he lay back and patted a spot on his chest. "Lay your head here before I change my mind."
She hated how quickly she obliged him, her body yielding to the charm of the moment.
He shifted beneath her as she settled into the warm nook where the arc of his arm met his chest. Everything about this place felt so calming. So natural.
He sighed, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her even closer. "Please don't judge me for wanting to spend our last evening like this." His hand reached up to sweep a lock of curls from her forehead. "It may alarm you to know how much I've enjoyed our closeness these past several weeks. How much I've looked forward to each dawning day. You know, despite all your shortcomings." He waited for a reaction to his off-the-cuff remark, but she was too busy relishing in the feel of his hand lacing with hers. She felt better, more clear-headed than she had felt in days and wanted to savor it. She silently wondered if he'd say more or if this was the extent of his soliloquy, but then he chuckled, her head bobbing along with it. So she looked up.
"I'm on the brink of listing your shortcomings, and you've nothing to say on the matter?" he asked.
She smiled at him.
"Why did you kiss me?" she asked, her heart racing as the memory of their fictitious future together flashed in front of her eyes once again.
He looked surprised at her boldness. "I mean," he started, his gaze suddenly unwavering, "I knew when we returned to London the press would be hunting us like Sirens in shallow water. There would never be an opportunity to have a proper goodbye with you like I'd want to have. And, so..."
"So, a proper goodbye requires a kiss?" she pressed, trying to maintain her smile but feeling microscopic cracks begin to reveal her vulnerability.
"I mean, I feel that after all we've been through, our goodbye needed something more than just words, something to seal our story, don't you think?"
"To seal our story? So you think the kiss was about closure?" A sinking feeling gripped at her.
"Not just closure, Granger," he said, fighting to look away but knowing the moment deserved better. "The kiss was a promise to remember, even as we part."
She nodded, her head slowly dropping once again onto his chest. I will have no trouble remembering, she thought.
In that quiet moment, the world morphed into a dichotomy of before and after pulling her deeper into her spiraling thoughts. Why did it have to come to this? she thought, frustration mingling with heartache.
She recalled the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about his enthusiasm for potions, the ease with which they'd talked for hours about everything and nothing. And now, what? It was supposed to just fade away like footprints washed away by the tide? She tried desperately to hold onto the fragile fragments of what once was, but silently wished for just a little more time.
She felt him inhale long before she heard him whisper, Nox, the lights extinguishing with the spell.
Staring into the darkness, the image of Draco's smile lingered in her mind, a reminder of everything she was trying to hold onto yet seemed only to push away.
They lay in the quiet, two hearts tangled in a web of unspoken words, both denying what was painfully obvious.
He pulled her closer. "Can I tell you something?" Draco asked, his voice low and sincere. "There's something about the way we fit together that makes everything we are tasked to do tomorrow feel a little less heavy. Just being here with you, holding you...it feels so comfortable. Like everything else fades away and it's just us."
"Are you worried?" she asked. "About tomorrow, that is."
Draco glanced up at the ceiling, contemplating. "There's a lot at stake," he admitted, his usual bravado fading for a moment.
Hermione nodded, sensing his uncertainty. "We'll face it together, no matter what happens." She suddenly found herself unsure if they were speaking of MacNair's capture or something far more consequential to their futures.