Penance

Jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might just break off, Draco slumped in the stupid bus seat. He’d tried to find that belt that went across him that Granger had forced him to wear in the car but the bus didn’t seem to be equipped with one. He didn’t ask about how it worked or where they were headed, he trusted Granger on this one aspect. He knew nothing of the States, only that they were full of a bunch of fat arseholes who couldn’t take no for an answer. He’d nearly ripped that stupid fucker who had been pawing Granger into two, and he wouldn’t have required magic. He was so mad at her right now he was surprised he had restrained himself this much. He felt like grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her out of her little perfect world where everyone wanted to help and they were all sweet and nice and good and the world was made of buttercups and roses. He wanted to brutally show her the real world and what it could be like. He glared over at her. Her stupid bushy hair was still wet in that stupid messed up bun on her stupid pretty head. He saw her rubbing her forehead on the cool glass of the window and smiled, figuring her head was probably pounding as bad as his. Draco was used to hangovers by now, he had never gotten them bad anyhow. He had only been sick a couple of times; once when he and Zabini had gotten so pissed in their fifth year they had woken up in the Charms classroom shirtless to a bunch of twittering birds flying overhead and Peeves blowing raspberry’s on their stomachs. The second time had been in his sixth year when he had gone on a two week drinking binge after hearing that his mother was the consequence for his failure. How was a 16-year-old supposed to kill the greatest wizard of all time?

Draco realized he’d been looking at Granger for a long time when she looked over at him. She gave him a death stare full of hate and anger. He gave one back and felt like a child. Since when did he hold staring contests?

Looking away with a scowl he watched the bland, flat scenery rush by. He was so tired. Tired of everything; of the war, of the death, of always being afraid. He was tired of fighting with Granger, of being a Malfoy, of being alone. Some days he just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, but the knowledge that he was still needed kept him going. He had learned to live on literally nothing; he’d eaten things some people would be sick just to imagine to stay alive. He’d slept in alleys, in trash bins, in trees. He’d gone weeks without sleeping at all, the fear of never waking up consuming him. He’d protected people he had loathed three years ago, given his coat, his food, his blanket to others he didn’t even know. He’d worked in groups, alone, with partners. Forever they were planning, scouting, attacking. It never ended. When one Death Eater died, another cropped up. When one piece of the puzzle was found another dispelled it. For the last seven months he’d been alone, tracking Granger. He had lied about the wand. There was no way to track a wand that hadn’t been used and he didn’t know how to do it anyway. He hadn’t thought his ruse would stand with her, she knew everything about everything. But it had and he was grateful he didn’t have to come up with another.

He didn’t know why exactly he’d decided to pursue her death. When she had gone missing days after the Battle of Hogwarts they had searched everywhere. Draco had been pulled into the fold two days before she had been noticed as MIA. She had left everything at Hogwarts, not a thing out of place. When they had checked Grimmauld Place, however, the room had been torn apart, a scene of brutal attack had taken place. They’d found blood, a lot of blood. He shivered remembering the amounts pooled upon the bed, slashed across the walls. They found a chunk of her hair, nail fragments on the bedspread, tears where she had obviously dug her fingers in for purchase against her pursuer. They’d found pieces of cloth torn from robes and a tooth. Ginny Weasley had been nearly hysterical at the scene and Arthur had had to remove her. Draco himself had felt ill, he could remember the way his hands shook had he’d righted a shattered picture on the ground, one of Granger, Potter and Weasley, all smiling and waving at the camera. They had been young, still so innocent. He had wondered then what it might have been like to have been a part of that. Connection, loyalty, love. These terms had meant nothing to him then and they meant nothing now. He was loyal to his cause, to bring down his father and all those who ran right alongside him. He had felt loyalty to his mother once, but her shallow grave marked the end of the only family he had ever known.

Then, seven months ago he’d heard talk between a couple of Death Eaters he’d been following. He couldn’t hear everything they were saying but he heard the important things; mudblood, Potter’s friend and something about the States. They had been talking about guard duty; one of them had to go next weekend. Draco had froze then and they’d snuck around the corner and out of site. Kingsley had been angry he’d let them get away but Draco didn’t tell him why. From then on he had been looking for a Hermione Granger in any records he could get his hands on in America. He looked in every courthouse, every capitol building but nowhere could he find a Hermione Jane Granger. So he started looking for alternate names and no one matched. Three months ago he’d come across something called a Driver’s License that had pictures of people and their addresses. He searched through these in buildings called ‘DMV’s. He’d made his way into Nebraska cursing the size of the United States and finally came across a Jane Ann Palmer in Gilchrist who looked exactly like Granger. He’d known then that it was her. That was three weeks ago. Then he’d had to find her house which ended up being a whole building so he’d waited to see which one she came out of. Then he’d followed her, more intrigued as to what she was up to than for any other reason. With the image of Potter wasting away in his mind he knew he had to confront her, but he couldn’t make himself do it. The woman he’d thought to be dead for two long years was there, in front of his eyes. He could touch her, smell her, see her. Everything he’d been through, the hell he’d encountered had been for naught. She was alive. It had taken him several days to realize that he was not the only person watching her. It was then he realized that the guard was there, but he still didn’t know why they were guarding and not killing her.

He realized he was looking at Granger again. She was asleep, her head resting against the glass, her bag clutched to her chest. She looked wan. He was so mad at her and yet he couldn’t help the thoughts that ran through his head of touching her, kissing her, holding her. Maybe he’d been too long without physical contact; it’d been over a year since he’d last had sex. It suddenly seemed unimportant. He’d spent seven months with his mind wrapped entirely around finding and rescuing this tiny witch, his only repose to go and locate a cell where he’d found Harry. That had doubled his efforts. He hadn’t heard a word from anyone back at the base for weeks. Usually he would check in every couple of weeks but not this time. They were too absorbed in getting Harry back.

Draco watched as the scenery switched from rolling hills of snow to a city with buildings and people and life. He didn’t know how people lived out in the country, so far away from everything. When all this was over he was going to get his own flat in the heart of London and start his life anew. He’d thought of becoming an Auror, but he was so tired of the fighting he wasn’t sure he wanted that anymore. Figuring they were probably in the town she wanted to get off at he reached across the aisle and shook Granger awake. She jolted up so fast, her eyes wide with terror he was afraid for a moment she might curse him. But she simply jerked away from him, terror flashing across her face.

“Granger, we’re in the city,” he told her, unaware of the battle that was going on inside the girl beside him. She nodded finally and clenched her bag to her, scooting as far away from him as she could. He rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat.

Twitchy little bitch.

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Hermione couldn’t stop shaking. She’d had the dream again. When she’d seen the shock of bright blonde hair as she’d awoken she’d nearly passed out thinking that it hadn’t been a dream and that it was happening again. But she’d heard his voice, seen his face and knew it was Draco Malfoy, not the terror of her dreams.

Taking a deep breath she tried to settle her nerves. Her stomach was still angry at her but she was pretty sure she was done being sick. She watched the city roll by, ignoring Malfoy even though she could feel his eyes on her again. She couldn’t look at him, not yet. She knew who he was; she didn’t want to confuse him. It wasn’t fair.

Closing her eyes, she worked on her yoga breathing. In through the nose, fill your lungs, out through the mouth, empty. She did this a few times while thinking of her happy place, a quiet picnic by a waterfall and sparkling pool. The lingering effects of the dream washed away and by the time the bus rolled to a stop she was calm and her stomach somewhat settled. She stood and made her way to the front of the bus, Malfoy following. Smiling at the bus driver who gave her a lopsided grin back, she braced herself for the freezing wind. After the bus pulled away Hermione looked about them, pulling her coat close around her. She saw a coffee shop and directed herself there, ordering them tea and asking directions to the train station. She was told the nearest one was a three mile walk but she knew they had no other choice. Clutching their cardboard cups they two made their way silently, following the directions the friendly barista had bestowed upon them. They hadn’t made it more than half a mile before Hermione was so frozen she could barely walk and the snow started again with a fury. They drove on, Hermione not wanting to complain about her aching knee or her stiff toes. She probably should have dressed more carefully but she hadn’t thought about it. Draco was getting odd looks as he forged through the snow in his long, heavy wizard’s robes. The collar was pulled up and his hands were buried deep in his pockets. He looked as if the cold didn’t even bother him and she was envious. She hated herself for being so weak. She remembered the first night he had come to her:

For a moment the look in his eyes was one of pity, draped with aversion. “What happened to the Hermione Granger I used to know?”

Hermione hardened. “She died.”

It was true. She couldn’t even find the Hermione Granger she once was. She had left it behind with all of her hopes and dreams and aspirations. Now she was Janie, a pitiful, spineless twit who thought being a doctor would rid her of the evils she had seen and done. She realized quite suddenly that she hated herself. She hated that she had been so weak, so frightened of everything that she had left everyone behind, had made them think she hadn’t survived her attack. Malfoy was right; she was of no use to anyone in this state. She pledged to herself that she would be stronger. Work harder, make up for her cowardice. She would do whatever it took.

So she trudged along, putting the miserable miles behind them in silence as she reflected on her deplorable behavior.

When they reached the train station, Hermione nearly cried at the wonderful warmth. Malfoy pulled off his robes and revealed, to an astonished Hermione, jeans and a dark blue long sleeved shirt. Along with the bloody sneakers. The Malfoy she had known would never have worn such muggle attire. He noticed her staring and he shrugged.

“It’s easier to more in. Molly gave them to me.”

“Molly? Mrs. Weasley?” she asked, her jaw dropping.

“Of course. She also gave me a hideous green sweater with a big ‘D’ on the front.”

Hermione laughed sadly. She truly had missed them all. “She knits those for everyone she’s close to for Christmas.”

“She made one for you, Harry and Ron as well. Fred too.”

Hermione hung her head. Gods, how she missed them. Ron and Harry had been the biggest parts of her soul and when they had left, there’d been nothing left to live for. Her guilt for leaving increased tenfold. Hiking the bag higher on her shoulder with numb fingers, Hermione made her way to a counter and haggled with the cashier, finally purchasing tickets to Kentucky where they would catch another train to Virginia. They would be at the sea in a matter of days. Smiling, she handed Malfoy his tickets and tried not to think about how little money they had left. Barely enough for food and definitely not enough for a motel. She knew they would have to stay overnight in Kentucky but didn’t think about that.

The wait for the train was a couple of hours so they walked to a bench where Hermione could divest of her bulky jacket even though she was still cold. It was wet and would not help in the warming department. Her numb red fingers couldn’t feel the zipper and it took her a while to finally tug it down. She lost the zipper halfway and she was shaking so bad she failed to grasp it again.

“Merlin, Granger! Look at your hands!”

She did and they were bright red and starting to swell.

“Where are your gloves?” he demanded, grasping her hands in his and turning them over, his face a mask of fury.

“We left them back at my apartment, we were in a hurry.”

“You’re not even wearing your scarf! Damn it, Granger, are you trying to kill yourself? You’re going to give yourself frostbite! It’s below freezing out there. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were in the same weather, I don’t see you complaining. It’s not a big deal, I’ll live.”

“Granger, in case you haven’t forgotten, I’m a fucking wizard,” he grabbed his cloak from his shoulder where it was perched and threw it at her. “It has a warming charm, same with my shoes. Why haven’t you put any on yours?”

“I told you, I don’t do magic anymore.”

“Maybe you should start,” he snapped. “Put the damn cloak on.”

“Malfoy-,”

“Stop fucking arguing! If you get sick we’ll never make it back. You’re wet and frozen, just put the damn thing on!”

Muttering every obscenity she could think of at him, she swung the cloak clumsily over her and with Malfoy’s help was able to get her arms through. She looked ridiculous, like a little child playing dress up since he was probably a foot taller than she was. But it was so warm! She almost sighed in relief but didn’t want to give Malfoy the satisfaction. Instead she snuggled into it and sat on the bench where Malfoy demanded to see her hands again. He inspected them as the shaking slowed and rubbed them between his own, creating a spark of pleasure that spread throughout her body. She cursed herself but she couldn’t stop it, the touch was driving her mad. She desperately wanted those hands elsewhere, rubbing, rubbing…

She jerked her hands from his grasp, shocked by her bodily reaction. He lifted that infuriating eyebrow and she thought she’d die. Why did she have to find him so attractive?

“Problem, Granger?” he drawled.

“N-no,” she breathed. Gods, she couldn’t believe the impact this small amount of contact was having on her. He seemed to realize the problem because he let her hands drop and she pulled them back into the warming sleeves of the robe. Her body temperature returned to normal and they sat in companionable silence, neither knowing what to say. She knew she should apologize for the things she had said that morning but she couldn’t form the words. She knew her actions had been her own but she hated him for making her feel that way, making her lose control. She never lost control. Except for once. She shuddered.

“Still cold?” he asked incredulously.

“No, no I’m fine now. Thank you,” she removed the robe and handed it back to him. He looked as if he were about to say something but thought better of it.

“And thank you, for, you know. Earlier...on the bus…”

He nodded. “Just be more careful. I know you’re, well, innocent and don’t really understand that kind of thing but you need to-,”

“What do you mean I’m ‘innocent’?” she snapped. Innocent? That jerk!

“Well, er, you know…” he shifted uncomfortably.

“No, I don’t,” she said crossly, turning her full body towards him. “Apparently I’m too ‘innocent’. Exactly, what do you mean?”

“Er…I just meant that you don’t, well, engage in that sort of activity…”

“And what activity are you referring to? Sex or prostitution?”

He had to dignity of blushing. “All of it, I suppose.”

Hermione fumed. “What the hell makes you think I haven’t had sex?”

“Jeez, Granger! Keep your voice down!” he looked around at the people who were paying them no attention.

“No, I don’t think I will. Now, answer my question!”

“Because you’re fucking Granger, that’s why! Little miss prudish bookworm.”

“You asshole! I’ll let you know that I’m not as innocent as you think I am. Think I don’t know a thing or two about it? Think again.”

She watched as his jaw clenched and his hands fisted. “Jealous?” she purred.

“What do I have to be jealous of, Granger? A little drunken snog does not a good fucking make.”

“You’d be surprised. I’ve gotten no complaints.”

“I’m sure Potty and Weasel were just ecstatic to have their tiny pricks sucked by a-,”

“Don’t you fucking talk about them. Don’t you say a fucking word. Don’t you ever, ever, refer to them with your vile mouth! You are half the man they were!” she screamed, rising, not caring that people were looking, not caring that her anger was mounting to unprecedented amounts.

Malfoy grabbed her arm and tugged her back onto the seat next to her, dragging her face to his. She struggled against him but it was futile.

“Shut the fuck up before you get us kicked out of here!” he growled.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “Get your filthy hands off me!” He let her go and she slid away from him, a look of disgust pinning him to the bench. “You bastard. You know nothing. You will never understand. Don’t smudge their names with your sick accusations.”

He said nothing, simply turned away from her and Hermione fought to get herself under control. Clutching the edge of the bench so hard her fingernails bent and took more deep breaths. She was shaking again, this time out of fury. How dare he even speak of them. That sick, arrogant prick would never amount to anything near the kind of men her two best friends had been. The ache in her chest rose and threatened to overtake her carefully built façade but she fought it down. They were gone, wallowing would do no good.

But Harry might still be alive… her mind taunted. That was why she put up with this jerk. For him, do it for him…

Gods, Harry. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I left you, I gave up on you…please forgive me. I will find you; I will never rest until you are safe. Please, please hang on.

Fighting back the tears Hermione rested her elbows on her knees and buried her head in her hands. She hated herself, hated everything. She was so tired of this shit; she just wanted it to be over. She didn’t want to pretend anymore, she didn’t want to hurt anymore. She wanted to wake up back at Hogwarts next to Lavender’s bed. She wanted to walk down to the common room and greet a sleepy Ronald and a pondering Harry. She wanted to poke them awake during History of Magic. She wanted to ‘correct’ their papers and pretend like she hated it. She wanted to yell at them for wandering the halls at night and then turn around and do it with them the next. She wanted to snap at Ron for stuffing his mouth so full of food he couldn’t breathe around it and annoy Harry into eating.

She wanted them back.

When she heard the announcement over the intercom for their train an hour later she got up and led Malfoy forward.

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XOXO

RynStar15