Salt
“So studying at a muggle university was part of your admittance to the Healer program?” Hermione asked incredulously. “I didn’t realize they had begun to condone muggle medicine.”
Malfoy bit off half a chip and chewed slowly, leaving her without an answer for a few moments. Streetlights were slowly turning on as the sun set, illuminating the empty pathway ahead as the pair made their way back to her flat.
The line for food had been long, but neither felt like finding dinner elsewhere. It also allowed extra time for Hermione’s companion to regale her about his year amidst the muggles. She enjoyed listening to the antics of his flatmate, watching him interact with ease with the other patrons of the chippy. It felt like her smile might just set permanently amid the pleasant atmosphere.
It wasn’t until Malfoy stepped up to put in their order that Hermione realized that the feeling that had overtaken her was content. The aches and pains of the day were gone, thanks to the potion forced upon her, but there was a lightness in her chest she marveled at.
That feeling was still with her now as she bit off a corner of her fried pollock. She tried to wipe the grease off of her hands, rubbing vigorously against the newspaper that was wrapped around her fish but gave it up as a bad job. Instead, Hermione licked the tips of her fingers, savoring the salt.
Malfoy stopped and stared at her. Shadows from the lights above masked the rest of his expression so that it gave away none of what he was thinking.
“What?” she asked defensively. “We’re already eating with our hands. How is this any different?”
He blinked rapidly and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I suppose it isn’t.”
“Damned right,” she muttered as she shoved a chip in her mouth.
They continued on their walk, and Malfoy resumed his story.
“I believe the condition was set by the admission committee in hopes that I would balk and withdraw my application. Unluckily for them, studying muggle psychology aligned with my intended path forward.”
Malfoy strolled on as though he hadn’t been affected in any way, but there was an edge to his voice that made Hermione stop. He did not notice that she had stalled behind until a few steps later. He turned, a question unasked but blatantly obvious in the raised eyebrow.
“I think you are amazing.” she finally said.
Whatever answer he was expecting, it wasn’t that. His jaw dropped ever so slightly, which he attempted to cover by bringing another couple of his chips to his mouth. There was a tinge of color to his cheeks.
“You don’t let any of it stop you. The suspicion, the bigotry - my bigotry - the whispers and the hate. You just… get on. I admire that.”
Malfoy choked a little on his chips. He definitely wasn’t meeting her eyes now. “I admit I had an example to follow.”
“Who?” asked Hermione with some curiosity.
The blonde puffed out a quiet sigh and then turned his face up to look at her.
Was it the glow of light that made his eyes especially startling? There was a gleam in his expression, the grey taking on the darker tone that was characteristic of his more serious moments. Malfoy didn’t break his gaze, and Hermione found herself rooted to the pathway. Her brain was in overdrive, trying to appraise a flood of emotions. She had none of the memories of her predecessor, but yet… she knew.
“Oh.”
Everything in her mind came to a halt.
She wasn’t Granger. Malfoy’s words, that look… they were not for her.
Her throat was dry, her tongue numb, but she would not have known what more to add anyway. Hermione felt the telltale prick in the corner of her eyes and quickly bit the inside of her cheek to stall any tears. Her hands stiffened and the chips in her little paper cone crushed from the pressure, much like the feeling in her heart.
“...ranger? Hermione?”
Hermione blinked at the sound of her name and focused on the wizard now directly in front of her. He had stooped his posture so that his face was much closer than usual, mouth tight and worried.
“Are you ill? Should l side-Apparate you back?” he asked, glancing around to see if they were in the clear for acts of magic.
She blinked again, and her lip trembled.
“You said my name.” she stated, her voice a little higher pitched than normal.
“Well, you weren’t answering to Granger.” said Malfoy stiffly, standing up straight again and making to move away from her.
Hermione swallowed and strove to get her voice under control. “No, I… I don’t mind.”
“Really?” he asked with uncertainty.
“Well, er, yes, I would like - it’s actually quite - I mean… please.” she insisted quickly, bobbing her chin up and down so he wouldn’t misunderstand her jumbled words.
Malfoy closed his eyes, let out a long sigh as the tenseness melted from his body and chuckled. “Well, then, Hermione , I think it’s best we get back to your flat before you freeze up or pass out or vomit on my shoes again.”
“I did not vomit on your shoes.” she exclaimed. The rush of indignation brought Hermione back into herself, the weight of loneliness gone.
The smirk on his face made her flush and she opened her mouth to tell Malfoy to take it back when the streetlight above them flickered. They both glanced up, and the light flickered again.
“Probably just needs replacing.” she murmured uncomfortably.
The light flickered once more. Then with a quiet *popfizz* the bulb burnt out completely.
Hermione and Malfoy both stepped back in unison, hands halfway to their wands.
*popfizz*
*popfizz*
One after another, the lamps on either side of their position sputtered and dwindled to nothing.
Wand out ahead of her, Hermione watched as each subsequent lamp died in a cascade of encroaching blackness. She flinched as someone grabbed her wrist but it was only Malfoy pulling her close.
“Six.” he whispered.
“Six what?” she whispered back, licking her lips and tightening her hold on her wand.
“Six aggressors, two east, four south.” Malfoy tightened his grip on her wrist. “Anti-apparition ward. We need to run.”
“Fuck no, I want some damned answers,” she hissed. Whoever was behind everything Hermione was going through - her memory loss, her feelings of inadequacy and terror and disappointment - they were out there in the moonless dark.
“ Run. ”
The yank on her arm gave her no room to argue further. Hermione’s trainors pelted against the pavement as she was half-dragged behind Malfoy, back towards muggle civilization and away from the direction of her flat. A red beam of light whizzed past her shoulder, briefly illuminating carefully trimmed shrubbery along the path before it blasted the bush apart.
“ Protego!” she called, trusting her companion to navigate as she turned to aim behind them.
An arc of orange lightning exploded against the shield and Hermione threw up another, hoping she wouldn’t trip and fell them both. She cast a few hexes back for good measure, though there was no knowing if the spells hit their target.
“Can we apparate yet?” she panted, feeling the burn in her legs and lungs.
“Not yet.” was the only reply that Malfoy gave her, so Hermione willed her body to keep moving.
“STOP THEM.” A magically amplified voice, deep and angry, thundered in the air.
More stunning spells crisscrossed through the darkness, and he pulled her sharply to the side, his focus ahead of them, the blackness ebbing as they came nearer to the edge of the wards. Hermione could no longer wheeze out spells, her limbs were shaking.
Then light broke through as they crossed the boundary together. Malfoy skidded to a halt and spun Hermione in tight against his chest, one arm around her back and his wand arm out to transport them both away. He didn’t see the streak of green that screamed its way towards them.
“Move!” she cried, pushing against his chest just as he began to turn.
They overbalanced together and the angry voice screamed in rage as space squeezed around them.
- - - - - - -
Hermione gasped as the world expanded again. She recognized the walls and furniture as those of her flat as she and Malfoy collapsed against a carpet and rolled. Winded, the adrenaline still roaring through her veins, several seconds passed before she realized that she was lying semi-underneath him. Their bodies were pressed tightly together with one of his arms still wrapped around her, cradling her head.
“Malfoy?” she asked, unsure if the pounding heartbeat was his or her own. Fuck, was he breathing? She grabbed the lapels of his jacket to pull his face closer to her. “Malfoy?! Answer me!”
A pained groan passed through his lips and Hermione used the last of her adrenaline to heave his body off her, glad he was at least alive. She hurriedly looked for any sign of injuries, her hands running back and forth across his chest and arms. The back and left sleeve of his dragonhide jacket were smoldering but intact.
“I’m fine.” Malfoy huffed darkly, moving her hands away so he could sit up.
“You don’t look fine.” she argued, noticing the paleness of his face and tenseness of his jawline.
“I always look fine.” he quipped lightly.
“Not in that jacket, you won’t.” she snapped.
Malfoy glanced briefly down at the remains of the leather sleeve and shrugged, wincing. “Well, it did its job. Dragonhide is resoundingly resilient.”
“You could have died!” raged Hermione.
“You were the one who wanted to fight them. What the fuck were you thinking, Granger?”
Merlin, he didn’t even sound mad at her. He should be mad at her - look what she had gotten him into! It wasn’t just her life in danger now. Hermione gripped the carpet between her fingers as she stared at him and tried to swallow down the knot of guilt in her throat.
A streak of orange leapt between them with an anxious mrowl and Crookshanks began a hurried inspection of his own. To her bemusement, after he was done satisfying himself with her condition, he did a similar - if shorter - check over of Malfoy.
“I said I was fine - get off!” With a determined yet gentle shove, the wizard pushed Crookshanks off his lap and slowly got to his feet. “Are you okay?”
Hermione nodded as she worked to get a tangle of curls out of her face; her hair was twice its normal poof. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
The tone of his voice made her stare up at him, a few curls still fighting her fingers. Malfoy had removed his jacket, casting a few spells over it to douse the remaining embers, all the while watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“What do you expect me to say?” she asked flatly, combing out the last of the tangle and rising to her own to feet to meet his gaze head on. “I’ve been threatened and attacked. I have a concussion, a cold, and a conspiracy to solve - and no one to worry about me - but yes, Malfoy, I’m fine. ”
“Don’t get shirty with me, witch.” he growled at her as he followed her as Hermione walked to her bathroom to splash cold water on her face. “It’s your arse I have to keep pulling out of the fire, so I think I’m allowed to ask whatever I want.”
She glared at Malfoy in the mirror as she summoned a fresh hand towel, drying herself. When she was done, she shoved the damp towel into his chest and walked out of the bathroom to sit on her bed. The sound of the faucet ran for a few moments, and Malfoy stepped out, towel over his shoulder, hair slightly wet around his face. The air it gave him was agreeable to her more than she wanted to admit.
Hermione wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms. “Fine, ask whatever you want.”
With a flick of his wand, the towel and his hair dried themselves, the former flying back to its hook in the bathroom. He did not move to join her on her bed. Malfoy instead paced back and forth in front of Hermione for a while.
Eventually he stopped, staring at his feet, then turned and looked directly at her.
“When did you add me to your wards?” he asked.
She blinked in surprise and immediately felt guilt twist her stomach slightly. Her eyes dropped down, unwilling to look at him. “The day after you brought me home from St. Mungo’s.”
“Why?” Malfoy inquired with genuine surprise at her answer.
“I’m not really sure. It just… felt like something I should do. In case of an emergency. Maybe.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “But you didn’t tell me?”
“Granted, it’s only really been a week since the- wait, if you didn’t know I added you to the wards, why did you Apparate us here?” The realization stunned her out of her remorse. "You might have Splinched us."
“I… it was the only place I could think of.” he said shiftily.
Hermione allowed her expression to speak for itself - a full face of disbelief and a raised brow of her own.
“I wasn’t about to Apparate you into the Manor, Granger!” shot Malfoy, lips thin and his hand a shaking fist around his wand.
His outburst seemed entirely uncalled for and she gaped at him. “Why would I care about that? We could have di-”
“You almost did die, Granger! Right there, in front of me!”
His roar caused Hermione to jerk in surprise. The end of his wand threw off sparks and she scooted hastily back as Malfoy took several long strides forward.
“You have no sense of self-preservation! You didn’t then, and you don’t now! Hades, witch, do you know what it was like to watch you, screaming as she carved those letters into your arm?!”
The shouting was awful, but not nearly as awful as the realization that he was not talking about tonight. She listened to his tirade in horror, brown eyes wide and fearful. Her left arm twitched as though it remembered the moment even if Hermione did not.
“What in Styx do you think of me, Granger?! What the fuck could induce me to have us relive what is possibly one of the worst moments of both of our lives? Am I still a monster to you?!”
Everything about Malfoy radiated fury… except for his eyes. He was close enough that Hermione saw what was truly hiding underneath all the anger.
His despair felt like it might swallow her whole.
What was he but a childhood bully and an acquitted Deatheater? The tattoo on his forearm would haunt him for the rest of his life no matter what he did to atone for his sins. Malfoy sought absolution. Maybe not from the whole of the wizarding world. He wanted, needed it from her. Hermione Granger.
But she was no longer around to give it.
Hermione didn’t know what to say. What right did she have to say anything in the first place? She had not experienced the horrors of the war. All she had were stories and newspaper clippings in a neat purple binder. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, the taste of salt coating lips that trembled with uncertainty.
When she didn’t answer, the fear in Malfoy’s eyes deepened and he pulled himself back together stiffly.
“I’ll be on the couch. Leaving you here alone isn’t an option and it’ll be safer if I can side-Apparate you to the Ministry in the morning.”
“Malfoy-”
“Deal with it, Granger.” His back was already turned to her as he stalked out of her bedroom.
“Malfoy! DRACO.”
Hearing his name stopped him, his slender fingers gripped around the edge of the door. Still, he didn’t turn around.
“I know-” Her voice stuttered a bit. She drew a little more courage and continued, “I know… who you are right now. And that is all that matters to me.”
The door creaked under Malfoy’s grip but his shoulders moved up and down as he took a deep breath and nodded in acknowledgement of her words.
“Good night, Draco. And thank you, again, for saving me.”
“Good night… Hermione.”
With a click, the door shut behind him.
She threw herself back on the mattress, heart thudding in her chest, one hand over her eyes. Crookshanks leapt onto the bed next to her, assuming his usual bedtime spot and settled down with a haughty sniff. Hermione stroked his soft fur absentmindedly as she thought about her short life thus far and tried not to dwell on the feeling of having stolen something that didn’t belong to her.