Penance

Hermione chatted with the man whose name it revealed was Steve. He was very sweet and showed her a picture of his two little girls and his pretty wife and they talked about them for a long while. Malfoy pouted, staring out the window. She tried to ignore the pain in her ribs and head and knee and slowly realized how sore her muscles were as they made their way to the nearest town. She knew she’d done the right thing by kicking Malfoy out of the car but with how sore she was she wished the arsehole was hurting just as much. If not more.

She’d just said arsehole. In her head. Asshole. She reminded herself. You aren’t British anymore. You’re an American, fourth of July and the Declaration of Independence and all that stuff. She’d had to work so hard on perfecting her American accent that she wasn’t going to lose it now just because Malfoy thought he could barge into her life and change her back. She realized she hadn’t heard a word of what Steve had said in the last few minutes and turned her attention back to him. He was talking about how his youngest, Michelle, was in second grade and she had come home with a macaroni necklace for him last week. She smiled at this lovely image.

“How old is your other daughter?”

“Rachel? She’s 10 going on 25.”

Hermione laughed. “Girls tend to do that,” she said.

“Don’t I know it. How are your parents dealing with you being out of the house? I don’t know what I will do when Rachel heads to college. It’s too scary to think about.”

Hermione reminded herself to breathe. “My parents are dead.” She said as calmly as possible. She felt Malfoy stiffen beside her and could feel his eye boring into her but she refused to meet his steel-like gaze for if she did she would lose her composure and that was one thing she would not do. Never again. She’d let him see the depths of her pain in her little kitchen but it wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t let it.

“Oh, gee miss I’m real sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude-,”

“It’s not a problem. They died a long time ago. It almost seems as if it was a whole other life.”

The truck cab was suddenly like a tomb, the tires on the ground the only source of noise. She wanted to reassure Steve but couldn’t; she felt as if she’d stuck a large spoonful of peanut butter in her mouth and it was cementing her teeth together. She remembered doing that on a late summer morning as a child and her mother laughing and laughing as she tried to talk around the gob.

”Don’t try to talk sweetie, you’ll choke yourself! Jonathon, Jonathon, come look at your daughter! She’s just like you!”…

Steve cleared his throat. “Well we’re coming up on Knollsville. Will that be alright for the two of you? I know they have a AAA service, I can drop you off at a convenience store, they’ll let you use the phone…”

“That would be perfect, thanks,” Hermione said hurriedly. Malfoy was still looking at her. Would he ever stop?

The rest of the ride was silent, no one daring to say a word. When Steve pulled up outside a “Gramma’s Grocery” Malfoy bolted out of the truck and stood with the door open, waiting for her.

“Thank you so much for all your help. Here, take this-,” Hermione pulled out the wad of money she had shoved into her front pocket but Steve protested vehemently.

“No, no I couldn’t take that! Put it away, darlin’. It was my pleasure, really. Good luck,” he put out a hand and she took it. His palm was rough and soft at the same time and she smiled at the comforting touch.

“Thank you.”

He touched his John Deere hat and she slid out of the truck wincing briefly as her knee touched icy pavement. Malfoy gripped her elbow and slammed the door of the large truck shut before leading her to the warmth of the small, quaint shop. An older gentleman was leaning back in a swivel chair reading the newspaper behind the desk as Hermione approached.

“Excuse me, could we use your telephone?” she asked politely.

“No one uses the phone. Company policy,” he replied in a gruff voice without looking out from behind the paper.

“Oh, I’m sorry but we were just in an accident, see, we hit a patch of ice and went into the ditch. I would be glad to pay you-,”

“Company policy.”

Malfoy moved before she could even register. He was leaned over the counter, the old man’s flannel jacket in his grip, his face nearly pressed against the wrinkled one of the clerk.

“She asked nicely, twice. Do you really want to make her have to do it a third time?” Malfoy growled menacingly as Hermione grabbed his arm and tried to pry him off the older gentleman. “Give her the damn phone.”

The old man nodded and reached beneath the counter, producing the telephone.

“May I have a phonebook, please?” Hermione asked sweetly. She didn’t much approve of Malfoy’s method but it got things done and she was going to take advantage. Malfoy glared at the man until he plopped a thin Dex on the counter and Hermione flipped through it, coming to the yellow pages. She called a tow service and asked for her car to be towed back to her apartment, giving them the space number she was allotted in the parking lot. After dealing with that she urged Malfoy to find something to eat and she bought it, leaving five dollars for the services of the phone. They left and as soon as they rounded the corner Hermione rounded on Malfoy.

“You’re going to get us arrested. You can’t do shit like that in the muggle world, everyone is sue crazy in America. I give it three minutes before the police pull into that driveway.”

It was actually four and a half but she raised her eyebrows as they watched a police car cruise towards the convenience store four blocks away.

“I’m not bloody scared of them,” Malfoy said, pulling his robes tighter around himself as a cold wind whipped through the small alley they were cutting through. Hermione pulled him aside and opened a map she had purchased at Gramma’s and tried to locate their position.

“Here we are, that’s Regalia, Missouri. We can catch a train there, I’m sure. We’ll head east, towards the coast. How do you plan on getting back home from there? A plane?”

“What’s a plane?”

Sigh. “It’s like a car that flies. A very, very big car that can hold a lot of people. The only problem is that we have to book a flight in advanced and it’s very expensive. I don’t know if I can afford it over the train and bus tickets we’ll be buying.”

Malfoy raked his fingers through his hair. Hermione couldn’t recall him ever doing that at Hogwarts. “Well, we’ll have to do something. If I aparate over here they’ll become suspicious…”

“Well there are witches and wizards over here as well, how will they know it’s not one of them?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “They don’t just track anyone, Granger. They only track a very select few, it’s too much of a hassle to try to figure out what every witch or wizard is doing at any given time. They don’t care anyhow.”

“Why you?” she asked. She met his eyes several inches above her own. They were so much deeper than she expected.

“My father is not happy with my choice. He has been trying to track me down since the battle,” he answered with a finality that barred anymore questions. Hermione decided to keep her further queries to herself for the time being.

“You’ve already done magic, and close to where I live. What will a little more hurt?”

Rolling his shoulders Malfoy tackled the obviously difficult question. “Look, let’s just get as far east as we can and we’ll deal with it then. If we have to aparate, we will, but it’s a far distance and it is difficult.”

Deciding that there was no use in arguing, Hermione mapped out their best route to Regalia. They started walking, or in her case limping, and found a bus stop she had located on the map. Picking up a brochure Hermione figured out that the next bus to take them to Regalia would not leave until the following morning at 8:10.

“Great, just great,” she sighed. It looked as if another motel was in order. The map did not show motels so they set off to find one and finally stumbled upon a dingy looking resort named “The Bear Den” and boasted a full bar and cable t.v. Knowing it was their best option as it was so close to the bus stop, Hermione dragged Malfoy to the front desk where she ordered one room, two beds and they fell into the room, cold, tired and sore. Hermione collapsed on the bed, most of her body numb, the other part stinging with cold or pain. Her knee was on fire. Malfoy found his way into the bathroom and Hermione closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d drifted off until she felt Malfoy tugging her shoes off, pulling a blanket over her. Awake, Hermione cracked one eye open a slight bit so as not to alert Malfoy. She watched him watching her, wondering what in the world he could be thinking. He finally turned from her and went to her bag where he had stashed the food. Closing her eye again, Hermione wondered on the strange mind of Draco Malfoy.

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Draco finished off the hoagie sandwich and crumpled the wrapping before lobbing it towards the trash bin. It went wide and he didn’t feel like getting up to fix it. He turned his eyes unwillingly back to Granger, her light brown hair falling out of its loose constraint. He shook his head and turned away from her. He had no right to be looking at her; he had a duty, that was it. What had happened years ago had no account to the here and now. They were two different people; they belonged to two different worlds. She was simply borrowing his for the sake of finding her friend. Her cowardice sickened him, as well it should, but he felt an understanding blooming slowly, unraveling centimeter by tenuous centimeter. The enigma that was Hermione Granger was beginning to unfold. Hopefully soon he’d be able to crack her, figure out what she knew, find what she was hiding.

Not able to sit still, Draco went downstairs to make use of the bar the cheap motel claimed to have. It was early yet, but he was sure others would soon join him and the four early worms as he took a seat and ordered a whiskey. He wondered if it was the same thing as a Firewhiskey. He took a drink. Nope, definitely not. The weak taste could not compete with the full punch of a Firewhiskey but it went down smooth with a subtle burn so he ordered another and a shot of something called “vodka”. He smiled as the clear liquid went down with a refreshing bite and soon enough he and the bartender we chatting about something called “basketball”. From what he could surmise it was some kind of sport, he figured like Quidditch as the portly man talk about “taking it to the hoop”. Draco had no idea what the man was on about but enjoyed the friendly banter, the jovial voice of the man kept his thoughts from straying to things such as the woman sprawled on a bed upstairs or a black haired boy shackled and starving in a dark room or the blank eyes of so many dead that he had witnessed, that he had killed. For a blissful hour he was able to if not forget then at least not think about those things. Draco turned when someone slid onto the stool next to him and his heart jumped to his throat when he saw it was Granger. He nodded to her nonchalantly and ordered her a shot of “vodka”.

“Oh, no, I don’t drink. But thank you,” she said with a small smile.

His own lips tugged at the corners. “What, is prude little Granger too scared to drink a little? What can it hurt? I promise you there is no one here to show off to.”

She glared at him as the bartender slid a shot glass in front of her and filed it with the clear liquid.

“C’mon,Granger,” he cajoled. “Live a little.”

He could watch her hesitancy, sensed that she was about to refuse him but her pride won out as he figured it would. She picked up the small glass with a shaky smile and drank it. She barely got half of it down before she drew and face and put it back down, pulling her sleeve across her mouth with a disgusted sound. Draco laughed out loud, his head falling back. The look on her face was priceless. Her innocence was enthralling and not a little bit hysterical.

“That tastes horrid! How do people drink this stuff?” she cried, her eyes watering as she leered at the half full container with contempt.

“You’re not supposed to taste it, you’re supposed to swallow it,” Draco chuckled. It was the funniest damn thing he’d seen in a long time.

“And just how does one not taste it when it’s in their mouth?” she questioned.

“Just open your throat and take it down, don’t keep it in your mouth, You’ll get a little bit of the taste, but the bad stuff will just pass right down. Go on, try it again.”

“No way, that was sick,” she protested.

“One more time, you have to finish your drink. You’re wasting your money,” he said with a wink. She gave him a death stare.

“You better not be racking up a tab.”

“I’ll pay you back when we get home. No go on, finish it.”

Granger looked at it warily. Draco’s already buzzed mind was whirling with laughter as he remembered her last attempt. Finally she reached out her hand and picked it up.

“Just open my throat?”

“Just open your throat,” he grinned, thinking about the blatant innuendo. Raising his glass of watered down alcohol he cheered her on. Her next attempt was successful although she still made a face. She slammed down the empty glass and smiled brightly at him.

“Not nearly as bad, eh?” he said.

“No, but I still don’t see why people would go through all the trouble.”

“You will,” he grinned and ordered her another.

“What? No, I’m not drinking that!”

“Come on, Granger! What will one more hurt?”

“My esophagus, for one thing!”

He laughed and took another drink. He was tipsy and headed for drunk fast. “Drink this one and I’ll get you something yummy.”

“How do we know what’s even in these? He didn’t even ask for my I.D!”

“Your what?”

“My identification to prove that I’m 21. I am, of course, but that’s not the point! He didn’t even ask to see it and I know he didn’t ask for yours seeing as you don’t have one.”

“Maybe he just thinks we look old enough. Plus, why do we need to be 21?”

“That’s the drinking age here.”

“That’s an odd number,” he mused. He preferred 17…

“Well it was put in place to protect those not mature enough from consuming a devilish substance which kills brain cells. Did you know that is what you are doing?”

“No, and I don’t particularly care. Drink up.”

She bitched and moaned until her tugged at her pride again and she finally swallowed the whole shot in one go. For a moment he feared she wouldn’t keep it down but she did and he kept his word, ordering her the fruitiest thing he could find. She found it much more to her taste and they sat in comfortable silence nursing their respectable drinks.

“Do you do this much, you know, back…there?” She finally asked.

“I used to. Not anymore. There’s not time.”

He watched her fingers draw patterns in the dew on her glass. “What happened?” she whispered.

“Let’s not talk about it, not tonight. We’ll discuss it soon, I promise. I’ll tell you everything. Just not tonight.”

She nodded solemnly and he caught her chin with a finger. She was so pretty.

“Cheer up; I got you a fruity drink.”

She chortled and brought the drink to her lips. He smiled when she had to fish for the little straw sticking out of the red liquid. She was a light weight.

“You know, this stuff’s not bad. Get me another one, something different,” she said, finishing off the juice. She blushed madly when he ordered something called “Sex on the Beach” and he smirked as he handed it over.

“Perhaps it’s a good omen,” he suggested.

“Deviant,” she sneered.

“Never claimed otherwise.”

They both chuckled merrily and joked and bantered their way through several more drinks. The more Draco had, the more he seemed to be touching her and the more he wanted to taste her. When she toppled from her stool onto the floor Draco decided it was time to remove her from the premises. When she began singing loudly as he tried to heft her drunkenly from the floor he decided he probably should have down it earlier.

“Cheerio!” she called out to a couple walking in the door. He had noticed her British accent returning the more she drank and now she was in full blown Queen Elizabeth mode.

“Wotcher! Why are you on the floor, Malfoy?”

“I’m on the bloody floor because you fell off your bloody stool and now I’m trying to get your bloody arse off the bloody ground,” he responded, giving another valiant heave and succeeding in pulling her to her feet.

“Bloody good job there, mate!” she practically yelled. The ground swayed beneath his feet and he took a tenuous step forward, keeping a firm grip on her arm. The grip proved necessary as the ground decided to move at the exact moment he tried to take a step.

“Fucking bloody fucking floor,” he grumbled as he stumbled toward the door, dragging a hysterically laughing Granger along behind him. He opted for the death trap rather than the stairs because he didn’t think either of them could make it with how utterly pissed they were. Granger fell to the floor the second the doors opened and he was left rolling her fully into the contraption and figuring out how to work it. He pressed a button that said 2 which he knew their floor to be on. When it burst upward he stumbled and laughed raucously when he tripped over Granger’s still laughing form. He had no clue what was so funny but the fuzzy world around him joined in with their mirth as Granger pulled at his clothing to get his face down to hers.

“You know what, Malfoyyyyy?” she said with a giggle.

“What, Grangerrrrr,” he chuckled at his own imitation.

“I forgot.”

They burst into peals of laughter as the ding announcing their arrival to the second floor sounded in the tiny booth.

“Come on, we have to leave,” Draco lurched to his feet and helped Granger to hers and they had an amusing time figuring out which room was theirs until Granger whipped out the little card with their number on it. He swiped it as he had seen her do and shoved her into the dark room. Draco floundered around for the light switch and hit it as he watched Granger collapse onto the nearest bed. Knowing even in his inebriated state that it was a bad idea, Draco flopped onto the bed next to her.

“My head is spinning,” Granger whined.

“Isn’t it great?” he said, resting his head on his hands, looking at her. She turned her head towards him, her face very, very close.

“I don’t know yet. It kind of makes me feel sick, but it’s kind of funny,” she giggled again. Draco grinned.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

She stopped laughing. Her eyebrow crinkled. “No, I’m not,” she said plainly, as if he had said something inaccurate and she was correcting him. She made no reference to the fact that her enemy, the person she had hated since her entrance into the magical world, the boy who had tried his damndest to make her life a living hell, had just admitted that he found her attractive.

“You are, Granger. Don’t you know that?”

“No, I’m just plain, Plain Jane Hermione Granger. That’s why I named myself Jane, you know? Because I’m a nobody, invisible. You always told me how ugly I was and it never really bothered me until later because I just always knew. I’m not pretty, I know that. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, I don’t mind too much.”

“Granger, you think too damn much. You’re a fucking attractive woman; just accept the compliment, will you?”

She seemed to mull it around in her mind before nodding. “Alright. I thank you for your compliment,” she slurred. Before he could think about what he was doing he was kissing her, his lips melding themselves somewhat sloppily against hers, those luscious pillows his mind had been consumed by for nearly three long years. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined this particular moment but he would take it. And as she opened to him he groaned, yes, he would definitely take it. He shifted himself so he could cover her body with his own and she re-arranged herself into a more advantageous position. He settled himself between her legs, his erection he wasn’t aware he’d had resting against her mound. He placed his hands on either side of her face to steady it since she was still swaying beneath him…or that could just be the alcohol. It may not be Firewhiskey, but it did the job.

He ravaged her mouth, resisting the urge to grind his pelvis into hers until she lifted herself up to him and he could hold back no longer. He’d never been so fucking horny in his whole life, he wanted to rip her clothes off and banish them to the Never-Realm his mother had told him about. He allowed his lips to wander her face, chin, throat, collarbone which was just visible above her jumper. Merlin, she tasted amazing, so much better than all his weak fantasies. His eyes rolled as he felt her small hands inching their way up his sides under his robes, her shaky breaths drawing visceral emotions from him. He wanted her. Claiming her mouth again he ripped away his robes to allow her easier access in her innocent perusal. He had worried when he’d first found her that she’d succumb to some American jerk but he knew now that it wasn’t so. She was so sweetly innocent, so unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Just as he’d always imagined she would be.

He could feel her hands tugging up his own jumper and he sat back, tipping a little and having to catch himself. He pulled off the offending material and ripped her own straight down the middle, too anxious to wait for such things as removing the garment properly. She was so perfect, her dark blue lacy bra he had picked out especially in hopes that he’d see her just like this, flushed (although he hadn’t imagined from intoxication) and waiting for him. Wanting him. He cupped her perfect mounds and she purred like a kitten, straining towards his touch. He went back to licking, sucking and nibbling his way down to her stomach. He was about to delve his tongue into her belly button when something prevented him from doing so. He leaned back a few inches and poked the glittery metal.

“Granger, what the hell is this?” he asked.

“Er, well, it’s-it’s called a belly button ring. It was silly to do, I know, but Maria said-,”

“It’s the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Thank Merlin for Maria,” he growled before coving the jewelry with his mouth and twirling it with his tongue until she gasped with pleasure. He stood by what he’d said. It was obviously a muggle thing and he knew none of his pureblood sluts would have something like this. It was so utterly like Granger to have something this hot underneath her bookwormish demeanor. She was going to bloody kill him. He stroked her body, making her arch towards his touch. She moaned as his lips made their way down to the edge of her jeans which were riding far too low, he could see a swatch of dark blue lace peeking up from under them. He grabbed the material between his teeth and tugged. He looked up at her with dark eyes, her pretty face swimming in and out of focus. He was far too pissed to do what he wanted to do. She bit her lip. Dear…fucking…Medusa…he tackled her, consumed her lips. He lapped at her hungrily until he felt her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back. She wrenched her lips from him and shoved him from her so hard he toppled onto the floor, his arse thudding on the floor. He was about to ask what that had been about until he watched her roll off the bed and crawl to her feet, one hand covering her mouth, booking it to the bathroom. He chuckled as he listened to the sound of sick hitting porcelain. He’d wondered how long she would last. Taking pity on her since it was mostly his fault he stumbled to the bathroom and flicked on the light which burned his eyes like ever-living-shit. He fell into the counter on his way to her where she was heaving again. Grabbing her long locks of thick hair into both hands he held it away from the projection of sick. He placed a hand awkwardly on her back as she went in for another go. Turning his head away he worked his throat to keep from being ill himself. When she finished she fell sideways into the wall and Draco reached up and flushed the toilet. She moaned pitifully and he couldn’t stem the laugh that bubbled up from his throat until she careened onto the floor, smacking her head on the linoleum.

“Shit!” He hurried forward to help her up but she was out. She’d passed out. Chuckling again, he knew picking her up was out of the question but he couldn’t just leave her there. Grabbing her limp arms he dragged her along the floor, falling into every possible surface along the way. Cursing the nightstand he hefted her unconscious form onto the nearest bed and rolled her towards the middle. Knowing she would not be happy if he was there when she woke, he snapped off the light and staggered towards his own bed where he keeled onto its surface. His mind swirled. What did he think he was doing? Had he really just snogged the bloody hell out of Granger? This was bad, this was so bad…maybe she wouldn’t remember…he snorted. Even glazed out of his fucking mind he knew she’d remember. She was still Granger after all. Sickened with himself, he fell into a drunken sleep.

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A/N: Hey guys, sorry so long for the update, very busy. Finals are next week and my sister has been in and out of labor for the past week so I’ve been here there and everywhere. Anyways, I hope it was worth the wait and I hope you liked Hermione’s first drunken escapade. I don’t think I would have anything to drink at a bar where they don’t check I.D, but at least they had a good time ;)

XOXO

RynStar15