The Malfoy Manor
Hermione could feel the speed of her footsteps in her temples. With each foot that pushed hard against the ground, another pounding thud echoed in her head.
A shower of snowflakes trickled from the gloomy night sky, saturating the pavement. Potholes of muddy water sloshed against her boots as she skid across the gravel and cut left.
Eruptions of bright light pierced the evening sky as a series of deafening fighter jets rattled the voluminous storm clouds overhead. Spurts of miniature sonic booms left a trail in their place as they soared inland.
A subsequent launch of artillery from the aircrafts rattled Hermione's chest. She clasped her gloved hands over the flaps of her beanie that covered her ears as a fearful cry escaped her lips.
Hermione, having grown up in the Muggle world, was quick to identify the sleek airplanes overhead. They were fighter jets being expelled from the Muggle military of Britain and presumably elsewhere that had recently been negatively impacted by the wizarding world.
Soon thereafter, the eerie grey sky was lit by a succession of defensive spells being dejected by an opposing force. A simultaneous roar of two dozen wizards flew behind the jinxes being shot overhead, each witch or wizard stabilized on a broom, dragon, or Thestral.
Hermione screamed as one of the rockets launched by the Muggle military force came into direct contact with a subsection of airborne wizards who were thrown into an ultimate freefall of death.
Following the lead of her rampant footsteps, Hermione sprinted as though her life absolutely depended on it. As her head whipped in either direction, she came to the realization that she was in a familiar neighborhood.
The neighborhood wasn't welcoming in the least, but promised more protection than being out in the open, terrified and alone.
After readjusting her coat and zipping it to the top to secure the precious cargo being held beneath, she bolted toward the tall steel gate. With one last spurt of grueling effort she reached the foot of the long driveway.
"Please, open the gate!" Hermione shrieked. From beneath her mitten, her palm had already turned red-hot from the repetitive force of her slams. "Please, I beg of you!"
Warm tears streamed down the Gryffindor's face leaving a sticky trail of frigid air that rimmed her cheeks. She repetitively checked over both shoulders as the pace of her banging escalated. Her surroundings proceeded to flash and boom every few seconds with different colors of the rainbow like a daunting, scattered lightning storm of impending doom.
The world as Hermione knew it was quite literally collapsing around her.
The administrators of lethal weapons and spells being viciously interchanged overhead were by the two worlds that the Muggleborn identified with.
Consequent to being caught in the crossfire between Lord Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and the rest of the wizarding world once more, the Muggles had decided to take a stand.
History was repeating itself, and Hermione was aware that she had to immediately find cover before she became one of the first civilian victims of the early stages of world war.
After defeatedly kicking the bottom of the ironclad gate, Hermione crossed her arms in a moment of frantic contemplation.
Each second that passed stole an extra moment that she could be on the move toward safety, and she had no choice other than to fight the obstacles while in pursuit of protection from harm.
She took a couple steps back and unwound her beaded purse from around her shoulders. Gripping the strap and circling it for momentum, it soared over the tall gate after a quick launch.
Hermione excitedly jumped on her tippy toes as it plopped on the other side against a bush. "Yes!" Unzipping the top of her jacket and poking her nose inside, she whispered, "Hang on, Crookshanks."
Another boom rattled her core as she hugged the furry lump in her jacket and neared the ground, creeping toward the stone wall of the gate with her wand brandished.
Wordlessly illuminating the tip of her wand by Lumos Maxima, the plants in her path wilted as she intertwined her body with the path of the shrubbery. Sticks repeatedly snagged at her coat, swallowing her into its grip as she fought them off with her limbs.
Hermione eventually came into contact with the thick wide bark of a pine tree. No matter how much she shimmied, to and fro, there was no passing the thorny rose bushes at its base.
Without second thought, Hermione cast Diffindo as the towering tree collapsed to the ground. Its sound was barely overshadowed by the thunderous noises emitting from the sky.
Luckily, it appeared as though the disturbance of the fallen tree finally alerted those within the manor as a few candles on the patio flickered to life.
After hopping over the stump, grabbing her purse and breaking into a full sprint, Hermione finally approached the patio that was barred by another set of iron gates and an emerald covered serpent door knocker.
"Let me in!" Hermione firmly demanded, her fingers clenching into a fist. Utilizing another tactic with overwhelmed anger and impatience, she shouted, "I know you're in there, Malfoy!" With three more loud thuds she slowly commanded, "Open.. the.. bloody-"
The front door swung open with such concise, swift precision that Hermione's relentless fist nearly connected with Draco's face.
The Slytherin's bewildered expression made it unclear whether he was more surprised by the punch that had just been narrowly dodged, or the general appearance of the disheveled Gryffindor currently standing on his doorstep.
Draco was wearing a knitted navy-blue sweater with the sleeves pushed back, black slacks, and matching moccasins. He placed both hands in his pockets and took one glance over Hermione's shoulder, his face momentarily lit up by an explosion overhead, and immediately elongated an arm behind himself. She wordlessly thanked him with the curt nod of her head as he side stepped, allowing her to pass through the entranceway.
Once the door was safely shut behind her, Hermione frantically unwrapped the scarf around her neck with one arm, the other cradling the lump in her jacket at her belly. As she lifted her head, she found Draco peering at the cat-sized bump in her coat with an arched brow. He wordlessly tilted his chin toward it, prompting the Gryffindor to bashfully unzip the top by an inch.
A fiery orange, fluffy tail covered in powdered snow bulged from the neck of Hermione's coat, tickling her in the face. It proceeded to sway back and forth with its tip curiously curled at the end.
The snow blanketed cat landed onto the rug beneath them and proceeded to shimmy his tail and coat, spraying the floor with melted icicles.
Draco maintained a deliberate, raised eyebrow as his eyes locked with Hermione's.
"He's the only valuable possession of mine, aside from my wand," the Gryffindor sighed as her feline best friend bowed into a stretch between Draco's calves. "Crookshanks."
Draco's upper lip curled as he continued to peer at the cat in sheer disproval.
In an attempt to divert the conversation, along with a genuine fear as to what was taking place outside, Hermione fretted, "What's going on out there, Malfoy?" As she scanned their immediate surroundings, she added, "Where are your parents?"
"Not here."
Draco's flat response and uninviting tone communicated that she shouldn't press any further on the debatably sensitive subject. Nonetheless, she didn't necessarily mind avoiding his ex-Death Eater parents anyway.
"And I'm actively working on figuring out what's transpiring myself, seeing as it just happened," he snapped. With a lingering glare, he added, "Got a bit distracted, you see."
As Hermione paced back and forth in the hall, she explained, "I had nowhere else to turn, you must understand."
Her attention, as well as her feet, wandered toward the inviting fireplace in the adjacent sitting room. Thousands of miniature snowflakes instantly dissolved into tiny puddles of water against her sweatshirt that stuck to her skin.
Hermione caught a glimpse of Draco from out of her peripheral, as rooted to the floor as the snowcapped trees outside.
Situation aside, there had never been an existent level of formality between the two of them. If anything, they downright despised each other and never withheld from making that known. But they were survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts, as recent as 6 months ago, and Hermione simply had nowhere else to turn.
"Might I ask what you're doing in Wiltshire?" Draco slowly questioned. "A bit far from Weasleyville, is it not?"
"That was precisely the point," Hermione explained. "I was headed to track down my parents. So, I moved south in order to avoid the public eye and not be seen by.. well, either worlds." After a moment of contemplation she grimly added, "It seems as though my recent premonitions have proven to be correct."
"Premonitions?"
"Just because Voldemort is dead, that doesn't mean that the Muggle world wasn't extremely upset in his wake," she reminded him. "Several of their proudest landmarks, hundreds of their kind, destroyed by magical beings. The London Bridge was ravaged; the White House blown to pieces!"
Draco peered at the ground with arms protectively folded against his chest and an unreadable expression.
As much as Hermione tried to swallow the fear welling in her throat, the anxiety in her tone was palpable. "The Battle of Hogwarts may be behind us, but the war is far from won. If anything, it's just reawakened."
During her plea, she noticed that Draco's expression had hardened with increasingly reserved body language. He didn't seem nervous per se, or necessarily sympathetic toward her situation, yet didn't seem fully present in the conversation either.
And even though Hermione wasn't exactly sure why she continued to confide in the Slytherin to such an extent, she was simply in survival mode and drunk off adrenaline. "You have to understand that during times such as these, Muggleborns don't necessarily possess ownership from either race, and-"
With an abrupt rigidness to his tone, Draco suddenly commanded, "Lower your voice."
Even though he had claimed that his parents weren't home, his progressively tense demeanor and jerky eye movements toward the ceiling cued Hermione into the thought that they may not be as alone as initially thought.
Simultaneously, the sound of footsteps strolling down the wooden floor upstairs caused Hermione's posture to stiffen. Crookshanks bolted down the spiral staircase with a startled, puffy tail as it jumped into the safety of his owner's arms.
Draco remained stagnant in place, his eyes locked with the Gryffindor's, before lackadaisically glancing over his shoulder.
Hermione's grip clenched on Crookshanks and the strap of her purse as her eyes darted toward the front door, prepared to flee should she have to.
Shortly thereafter, a young man came into view as he reached the landing of the staircase upstairs. He slowly descended, his hand gripped around the banister, before joining their side with arms held behind his back.
There was a subdued smile on his face, either of politeness or entertainment it was unclear, as he greeted them with the bow of his head.
Concluding that she wasn't in any immediate danger, Hermione's tense clutch on her belongings alleviated while in continued observation of the young man.
He was predictably a bit older than themselves by a year or so, taller than Draco who was already quite tall himself, had an athletic build, and whiteish blonde locks that reached his broad shoulders. His unique facial features made him typically interesting to look at, similar to the attractive Slytherin standing beside her.
However, the term attractive was loosely used by Hermione in regards to Draco Malfoy, depending on whether his mouth happened to be shut in that moment.
Aside from the young man's telltale pointed pale features, he donned a characteristic smirk that was unmatched by anyone whose last name wasn't Malfoy.
"Thoughtful of you to join us, Abe," Draco blandly greeted. Although his expression remained indifferent as he peered at Hermione, his counterpart's rose to amusement beside him.
"Are you not going to introduce us, dear cousin?" the blonde stifled a chuckle. "How typically rude of you."
"Right," Draco replied, his eyes narrowing in disdain at his relative. Without pause he introduced Hermione as, "My schoolmate, Lavender Brown."
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she peered at the Slytherin as though he had officially gone mad.
"The Brown family comes from an impressively strong lineage," Draco's cousin noted with a malicious glint to his eye.
As Hermione extended a confident hand toward the Malfoy in greeting, he delicately gripped her fingers and turned her hand flat before placing a quick kiss on the back of her knuckles.
Followed by the polite bow of his head, he added, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lavender. My name is Abraxas Malfoy Jr."