No Longer Helpless

Chapter Ten
Trust Before Friendship

Hermione’s hair was still damp as she stepped from the hearth in one of the Leaky Cauldron’s private rooms. Draco’s hair, she noticed, was very much dry. He had cast a spell after his shower. She resented him for this at the moment, since she didn’t have her wand anymore. Perhaps a trip to Olivander’s was in order as well. How could she train without a wand?

Exiting the room, the bustling sound of a packed bar met their ears. It was surprisingly full for being so early in the day. Stepping out into the throng of mixed characters, Hermione searched for Tom, the barkeep.

While she didn’t know how he was going to help her, Malfoy assured her that in order to get to her hometown safely and quickly they needed to come here and see Tom.

An arm rested on her shoulder, Malfoy was guiding her through the crowed tables and aisles. She was about to protest and shrug it off, when she looked up to find his eyes searching the room in a very calculating manner.

She wasn’t sure how long he’d been training, but it would seem like he was following some procedure as though it were second nature. So, she couldn’t very well argue when he wasn’t actually doing her any harm and was apparently just doing as he’d been told.

Draco’s grip tightened slightly as he ushered her to a small, darkened space behind a large pillar.

“I’d almost forgotten how much attention you draw to yourself now,” he said as he began to take his green cloak off. Without another word he wrapped it around her and drew the hood up.

Drawing back he studied her a moment, then muttered, “Apparella Constricte” The cloak adjusted to her different frame at once. Reaching up, Hermione made to lower the hood, only to have Draco’s hand grab her own. “No,” was all he said, before replacing his arm and guiding her back out.

Again, she questioned, ‘who does he think he is?’ It was hot underneath the cloak. This was no summer garment, probably the only thing of his that wasn’t resistant to adjustments.

He couldn’t very well expect her to wear this once they were in Brighton. It was a muggle city. A cloak was most definitely not incognito. However, she did get the opportunity to smell that scent again, without resorting to sniffing Malfoy, which she would never do.

They waited up at the bar. Tom should have been nearby.

Sure enough, the barkeep came out from a back room, surprised at his new guests. Draco he of course recognized. There was no mistaking the boy with his platinum blonde hair and refined facial structure. The other he was not so quick on the pick up, he could see her long auburn hair that fell from behind the hood, but her face was hidden in the shadow of the hood as her head was downcast. Just when she seemed about to look up and reveal her face, the youngest of the Malfoy clan placed a hand on her head to keep it lowered. ‘Odd,’ Tom thought.

“We’d like to go to Brighton,” Draco stated evenly, keeping a gentle but firm hand on top of Hermione’s head. While Tom was a member of the Order, he trusted only two people implicitly, and this owner of the Leaky Cauldron was not one of them.

If he could keep the barman from knowing it was Granger underneath the cloak, he would. If even one less person knew her location it was all the better. There was a trickling fear though, that Granger would blow up any second in a fit of rage over being treated so. He could only pray she understood

The barman gave a simple nod and came around to meet them. With his request the floo connection was altered for the allotted time of an hour, any longer might bring trouble.

As Malfoy stepped forward to go first like he’d done before, Hermione stood waiting and wondering where they were going to arrive. Earlier, it seemed odd to her that they were able to floo from the Head’s common room hearth, and not only that, but Draco had instructed her that all she needed to do was step into the flame, no words were needed.

She was curious as to where a safe touch down point would be in Brighton. Her musings and reverie was disturbed when Draco pulled her into the fire place with himself, glancing warily around the room and even at Tom. ‘How rude could one person be?’ she wondered. He wasn’t making any effort to hide his distrust in the barman, when poor Tom had never been nothing but helpful and as far as she knew loyal to their cause. ‘Besides, could two people even floo at the same time?’

Apparently they could, because Hermione went through the whirl of flames clutching Malfoy’s shirt. He’d thrown the dust down without warning.

Managing to stand on her two feet only by luck and the fact that Malfoy was practically holding her up, she tore the hood down and started at him finally expressing her dislike at the procedures he was taking. “Dammit Malfoy! What’s your issue? Stop being so pushy!”

She waited for the harsh retort on his end. When none came she stared into his cold and completely impassive grey eyes. Their little dance of bickering didn’t work properly when he didn’t reply sarcastically or insultingly. As if his unreturned malevolence wasn’t enough to deflate her riled mood he just had to make his next comment.

“Granger, since when is being safe, being pushy? I’m sure I don’t have to explain the danger you’re in if the wrong people see you. That was a crowded room mostly full of people who haven’t declared their loyalties to our side.”

‘Merlin, could he say that any more chastising?’ Feeling rather small at the moment, for being angry when he was being so serious and, Merlin help her, responsible, she softened her glare. “Fine,” she mumbled. “Can I at least not wear the cloak, it’ll make me stand out more than if I hide behind it.”

For the first time since Moody had told him to escort her, Malfoy betrayed his cold façade. Looking playfully down at her, he withdrew his arm and pulled the cloak tighter around her. “But it looks so much better on you than it did on me.”

In an attempt to hide how flustered his comment made her, she pulled the garment off and threw it at his chest. “Malfoy!” was all she shouted. Even if he was joking, that look of his caused her to feel something she should never be feeling about him. Now he was actually laughing at her, well chuckling at least, but for Malfoy to chuckle was as much laughter as one might get out of him. “I’m glad I could be so amusing for you.”

He blanched at her words, not knowing why. It suddenly seemed as though she was triggering all the wrong thoughts in him. While her statement was entirely literal and innocent on her part, his mind, which he attributed to being a teenager, had misconstrued the words. And misconstrued words lead to much more among the imaginative.

Raising a single brow she studied him for a moment. “Bit bi-polar are we?” she questioned lightly, no longer looking for a fight. He’d gone from laughing to blushing, if that’s what you could call the light color in his cheeks, and he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

Hermione shrugged, not wanting to press any matter that seemed awkward for him. He probably just realized he was openly enjoying himself. It was odd for her too. That is, to see this new side to Malfoy. While he was still the same old Malfoy, there was something distinctively less mean and hurtful about him. His sharp words had lost their ability to cut her, and his cold mask seemed to be a fragile, glued vase that shattered each time it fell.

More often, she was seeing emotions from him she’d never seen before in all her six years of knowing the guy. It was hard to tell if it was truly kindness and warmth she detected from time to time, or just the fact that knowing he was on their side shed an angled light on things.

And then there was the most drastic change, which she was most reluctant to accept or admit. Malfoy was hot. There was no denying what was plain for the eyes to see. Of course, Harry and Ron were pretty good looking too, but that didn’t mean she was attracted to them.

This was why she was so reluctant to focus on his appearance. Now that she had observed his visual appeal, there was something within her that felt dangerously close to attraction. The last person in the entire world that she, Hermione Granger, was going to have a crush on was Draco Malfoy.

With her resolve set, Hermione surveyed their surroundings. They were in a living room, or family room. The house was empty, no chairs or couch, no rug or coffee tables, no pictures on the wall, no nothing.

“We moving in?” she asked.

Malfoy studied her a moment, never certain when she was gonna throw a punch for a fight or lay her gloves down and act civil. “This is a safe house,” he answered, carrying a civil tone. “The one used as a check point for your Watchers. Let’s go outside, I’m sure you’ll recognize where we are.”

Sure enough, the moment Hermione stepped outside onto the busy street, she recognized where she was. It was an apartment building they were in, not a house, and it was also quite close to where she lived. ‘Used to live,’ she reminded herself.

The need and almost urgency to see Mia and her house again surged forth as though she’d been repressing it for a long time. So, she began in a quick stride down the street. Malfoy had different plans, as he grabbed the back of her shirt, pulling her to a halt.

“Hold it Granger. Don’t go rushing off like there’s no tomorrow. Stay close, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she complied shrugging his hold off.

Together this time, they set off, walking casually, following her directions. A few times, Malfoy slowed the pace and drew her near to him as he scanned the area. He was acting more paranoid than she had been back at the castle.

“Either you see something or you don’t,” she finally stated, angry at the thoughts he was eliciting in her each time he pulled her to him.

“Constant vigilance, Granger. I can’t be too careful, even if it means taking caution at an oddly shaped shadow.” He didn’t even bother looking away from where his eyes were fixed.

There was a man in the crowd, one he’d seen several times already. There was something about him that didn’t sit well with Draco. This time, he’d seen the man coming out of a café, carrying a coffee and reading newspaper. The only trouble was, the paper was upside down and he distinctly saw the guy staring their way.

Draco didn’t like it, being out in the street, not when it was so crowded with loud cars passing by. It made it impossible to count heads and listen for faint sounds. “Are we almost there?” he asked, unsure as to whether he should risk staying out in the open much longer.

Hermione was now searching the area for his object of interest, since Malfoy had obviously seen something that caught his eye. She didn’t know what to look for, Lestrange standing on the corner in her mask and black robes perhaps, but there was nothing.

“Uh huh,” she intoned still trying to find what Malfoy felt might constitute a danger. An arm around her back, and a hand gripping her shoulder made her stop her search. “What?” she asked, affronted at the serious and worried look in his eyes.

Now, he was positive the coffee guy had been looking their way, more pointedly at Hermione. The man had had the audacity to chance another glance at the girl, before looking up and down the street and crossing. Rounding the corner, sipping his coffee, he vanished out of sight.

Once the man was out of view, Draco noticed Hermione was looking in the same direction, trying to find what he was looking at. Had Draco not been so concerned by being spotted, he would have found her actions amusing. Instead he caught her attention and tried to convey the severity of their situation through a look. “How close?”

Mouth gaping for a moment, she answered hesitantly, “Just around the corner.” Seeing his eyes sharpen as he snapped his head back to attention, staring down the street towards their destination, she asked a bit alarmed, “What is it?”

“We’re not going,” he stated, having made his decision final.

“But, I came to see Mia. Her shop is right around the corner. It’s not that far, less than a block.” She tried to shrug his arm off, determined to see Mia, oddly enough the one person she felt she could talk to about everything. Part of her wanted to just run into the shop, to show Malfoy how close it was.

His grip tightened. “Don’t do anything rash Granger. I can’t protect you if I have to chase after you.”

Trying to pull away she snapped, “I don’t need your protection.” She at least had enough sense to keep her voice down.

Debating whether his words were warranted or not, he decided that Granger’s feelings at the moment were keeping her from thinking rationally, so a wake up call might be in order.

Solemnly, he spoke, “If not my protection, then whose? You can’t take care of yourself even with a wand. Stop and think a moment. Your parents just died and you almost did too.” He was already beginning to regret his words from the hurt look in her eyes, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “To say it lightly, you’re helpless right now.” There must be something he could say to ease this a bit. “And while that’ll change with Moody’s help, you remain vulnerable and sought after. If you think running off without me is a good idea then go ahead and try it, but not unless you have a death wish.”

Without thinking Hermione promptly turned and used her left arm to release his own from around her, while bringing her right hand up to his face for a hard slap. This caught several people’s attention as they glanced their way. Turning to leave, she hadn’t got more than a step before his words brought her to a screeching halt and made her cry.

Though Draco could have easily avoided her slap, he felt it would be better for her to release some of that anger, lest he find himself unable to calm her down all together. His heart was racing as she moved away from him. He had to get her to listen to him. It took far more work with the angry lioness than the tame kitten.

“Go ahead. We’ll just see how many others need to die before you take more caution. Just remember, this time, you will be to blame.” Even he cringed at his words. For finally being on the same side he was certainly finding himself saying things far more hurtful than in all the other six years when they had nothing in common but being each other’s enemy.

She turned around and looked into his steel grey eyes with her watery rusty brown ones. “You don’t mean that.” Her voice quivered slightly, her throat felt hot. On the verge of tears, she waited for his next words, either affirming or regretful. She wanted nothing more than for him to say he was sorry and didn’t mean it.

He almost caved in at the sight of her, he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and apologize, swearing he meant none of it. But, that would do neither of them any good. While they didn’t get along, or even like each other, Moody had given him his orders. He was to keep her safe, which was something he couldn’t do if she didn’t listen to him. If he apologized now, then she wouldn’t realize how vulnerable she truly was. Snape had her cornered just this morning, and yet she took none of this into consideration.

Opting for silence, he waited for her next reaction.

When Malfoy didn’t say anything in return, she was at a loss for what to do. So, she churned his words over in her head. Was he right? Was she weak and helpless? What if she was taken alive? More than likely Harry and Ron would act rashly like any Gryffindor and attempt to save her, and then they might be killed. She hadn’t considered that. Was there really more danger to her situation than she was realizing?

“Maybe…” She took a step back to him. “Maybe you’re right.” Even though she had calmed down a bit, she still felt hot tears welling in her eyes. As the first of them rolled down her cheek, she looked regretfully at Malfoy. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on the back of her head and pulled it against his chest, “It’s fine,” was all he could say, feeling more relieved that he’d been able to stop her from acting rashly than words could express. She promptly sniffled and shed a few more tears against him, before seemingly expelling it all. Finally, she muttered something too muffled for him to understand. Placing his hands on either side of her head, cupping just under her jaw, he gently lifted her head away. “Want to try that again?”

“Can we go to the bank?” she asked again.

He furrowed his brows. “The bank?”

She nodded. “I need money, whatever my parents left behind.” Somehow it sounded terrible to her now that it was vocalized.

“Do you know what they left behind?” he asked carefully, knowing it was a sensitive subject that required tiptoeing around the right words.

“No. In fact I think I’ll have to see their attorney about any will they might have had.”

“Then we should go to Gringotts.” Upon seeing a disapproving look from her, he explained his reasoning. “They might have been muggles, but like most muggles who find out about our world, they would have switched a few financial and legal things around.”

“I don’t understand, my parents used Gringotts bank only a hand full of times, and that was for money exchange.”

“I know what I’m talking about Granger. If your parents were smart people, then they would have seen the benefits of having their money in a wizarding bank. For one thing, Gingotts is willing to exchange for muggle money any time, so they’d have what they needed whenever they needed. For another, there isn’t a safer place to have your assets. With you in their lives, I’m willing to bet they would have made more than a few adjustments for the new life style.”

It was true. Draco was rather knowledgeable about Gringotts’ procedures, policies, and statistical standing among muggles. Of course his reasons for knowing this remain undeclared.

Shaking her head, she was about to protest when he put a finger to her mouth.

“Just go with me on this one.” And without further hesitation he raised his right arm and flagged the night bus.

After they boarded, she asked, “Why are we taking the night bus?”

He quirked a brow. “Because I think it’s a better idea.” When she didn’t seem satisfied with his answer he continued, “I was able to over see Tom’s request for the floo connection before. Now, I can’t say for sure whether we’d still arrive back where we came from if we were to use it again. Don’t give me that look, I don’t trust the guy.”

“Not trusting anyone will be your downfall,” she stated in a sigh.

“Oh?” He gave her that don’t-get-on-your-high-horse-just-yet look. “Well, trusting too easily will be yours.”

Looking at him in a most serious manner, she stated, “I trust you.” She didn’t know why she said it, or even that she actually felt that way until she had. “Is it misplaced?” Her eyes never left his.

There was surprise in his eyes, and something along the lines of gratitude. It took him a thoughtful moment to reply. “No,” he stated flatly and evenly. “It’s not.” He was about to ask her why she trusted him, but only managed the “Wh-” part before he was cut off.

“Do you trust me?” she cut in.

There were so many emotions he saw in her eyes. Hope and eagerness seemed to be the foremost. Not knowing what made him answer so, or even that it was true until he had said it, he replied, “Yes”

Neither Draco nor Hermione broke gaze for several moments, both milling over their newfound trust in one another.

The bus was empty, except for them. There was quiet. Finally, they both broke the silence at the same time. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends!” they stated in sync. Their eyes widened, before they promptly turned away from each and rode the rest of the way in refusing to speak to each other.

**

“I’m afraid I lost sight of them,” Thomas Collins reported to Moody.

Moody gave a sudden shout of laughter. “That’s great. He’s coming along just fine then.”

“Sir?” Collins asked confused. He was supposed to tail Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger to the shop known as Frankie’s, but lost all visual contact once he’d gone around the corner. He’d been told they would follow the path from the safe house to the shop, so he had waited in the shop for only so long before returning to the safe house and finding neither hide nor hair of either.

“It’s unimportant Collins. Return to your post. You aren’t in trouble,” Moody dismissed the man. Indeed, Malfoy was coming along nicely. He had been hoping the lad would catch onto Collins once inside the bookstore, but he was impressed to find out that they hadn’t even gotten all the way there before making an escape. Dumbledore had been right in his recommendations. Never before had anyone trained at such a young age.

**

Hermione and Draco were leaving Gringotts wizarding bank. Draco looked crestfallen, while Hermione looked rather happy.

“Where to first?” he asked as though anything she said was some condemning sentence to Azkaban.

“Olivander’s,” she replied, simply. “I need a new wand.”

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