Blush

    Leaving Hogwarts was the hardest thing that Hermione Granger had ever done. The castle had been her home for six years, and by leaving it she was losing not only her chance for education but the closest friends she had ever known. The mere thought of her comfortable dormitory and her warm, curtained bed made her want to cry, but she would not let tears fall. She knew she had to be strong for Draco. Her friends would forgive her, but Draco had lost not only his fellow Slytherin’s by his family as well. If she was lonesome it was nothing to how she imagined Draco must feel.

    Clutching Draco’s hand a little tighter for comfort she risked a glance up towards Gryffindor tower. Golden light was blazing through the windows. She could barely believe that inside the tower there were people with nothing on their minds except the next Potions exam, people whose trivial concerns included nothing more important the following days breakfast.

    A shadow blocked some of the light from the tower. It was Ron Weasley, peering out onto the grass. Even from the distance Hermione could see the forlorn expression on his face. Although Hermione knew that Ron couldn’t see her or Draco, as she had disillusioned both herself and Draco, it was difficult not to wave. She reminded herself that Ron would find her gift the next morning, and that Dumbledore would surely explain things better.

    “Are you all right?” Draco asked.

    It still caught Hermione off balance when he spoke to her in such a kindly tone. She was always expecting some snide comment to follow and perhaps laughter. It was so unexpected, his courtesy. She had never seen him show anyone kindness, not even Pansy Parkinson, whom he had run around with for years.

    “I’m fine,” she replied, not prepared to voice her thoughts. Ron’s silhouette remained in the window, his eyes on the grass as though he had spotted something. Hermione wondered if they were casting shadows.

    Draco stopped walking but kept his tight grip on her hand. “Hermione, you’ve got to be honest with me. You’re all I have. I need to know you trust me.”

    Hermione blushed. “I do trust you, Draco.” The name sounded strange coming from her lips. She had always referred to him contemptuously as Malfoy, using his surname as if distancing herself.

    “Then tell me what’s wrong,” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. “Never mind, I can guess. You miss them already, don’t you?”

    “Who?” Hermione asked, looking away. She was not prepared to discuss her feelings with him, not yet anyway. It was too soon. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. She could barely believe that any of this was happening, and she was half convinced that if she pinched herself she would awaken in her old bed in a safe and normal life.

    Draco sighed, exasperated. “Potter and Weasley, of course.” He put his hands on her shoulders, moving in closer to her. Hermione could feel the warmth of his skin so close to her own. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know they mean a lot to you.”

    “Yes, well,” Hermione answered, taking a step back. “I’m sure you’ll miss your friends as well.”

    Draco smirked, but the look of cruel amusement soon faded and his eyes looked somewhat sad. “Friends. I suppose you could have called them that, yes, but it’s not as though I ever had real friends, people I could confide in. My friends aren’t like Potter and Weasley, I can’t tell them when things are bad. I can’t expect them to care. Miss them? No, and they won’t even notice I’m gone.”

    “I’m sorry,” Hermione whispered. “I never knew that.”

    Draco shrugged, his expression impossible to read. “I never let on.”

    Nodding, Hermione gently touched his face, tracing his jaw line with her fingers. His skin was smooth and cool. “You deserved better.”

    “Did I?” Draco questioned, sneering. He caught sight of Hermione’s face and his expression softened. “No, I won’t pretend that I deserved anything different. It doesn’t matter not anyway. I have you now.”

    His eyes were lit with passion as he met Hermione’s glance. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise as he slowly moved in closer. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted slightly. Draco bent in to kiss her, keeping his own eyes open and his gaze fixed on the lit window in Gryffindor tower. He had seen what Hermione had been glancing at, and Ron Weasley was still there, watching out the window. Draco had a feeling of immense personal satisfaction knowing that Ron would be able to see this.

    Hermione’s lips were very soft to the touch, and Draco kissed her somewhat forcefully, savoring the warmth of her breath. He closed his eyes, no longer concerned with Weasley’s reaction to their kiss.

     Hermione kissed Draco back gently. Nervous excitement raced through her, making her shiver slightly as she moved even closer to Draco. His hands were running through her hair, stroking it gently. His skin was so warm as they touched.

    Abruptly Draco felt himself being pushed away. He opened his eyes and met Hermione’s apologetic gaze. She was shooting quick glances up towards the tower, where two figures now appeared, backlit by candlelight.

    “We had better go,” Hermione insisted, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and frowning at the castle window.

    Draco nodded, exhaling loudly. He was disappointed that the kiss had ended but would be lying to himself if he was not a little bit proud of kissing Hermione in front of both Potter and Weasley. He might be dating one of Harry’s closest friends, but his ever-present dislike of Potter had not faded in the least. It was as intense as it had been the day Potter had snubbed his offer of friendship, choosing instead to befriend poor, hapless Weasley. As for Ron, Draco had always been taught to look down on the poverty-stricken family of redheads, and despite his current battles with his father he shared his families contempt for the clan.

    His spirits buoyed somewhat from the kiss, Draco again took Hermione’s hand and started to lead her in the direction of Hogsmeade. He was not overly excited to be meeting up with Remus Lupin. Draco and Lupin had never seen eye to eye, although Lupin had treated Draco courteously when he had been a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Draco had difficulty being civil to the poor and Lupin, who had shown up in patched and worn out robes, had never commanded much respect.

    As if reading his thoughts Hermione smiled. “It’ll be nice to see Lupin again. I haven’t seen him since last summer.”

    “You see him out of school?” Draco questioned, surprised.

    Hermione nodded. “Yes, he’s in, er...” She broke off, looking a bit concerned.

    “What?” Draco asked. “He’s in what?”

    “Well I don’t know if Dumbledore would want you to know,” Hermione explained nervously. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her robe, not meeting Draco’s eyes.

    “Honestly, are you ever going to trust me?”

    “You’re a Slytherin. It’s against my nature,” Hermione declared, but then she grinned. “All right, I’ll tell you. It’s the Order of the Phoenix. Lupin is a member of it, that’s how I see him. It’s this group who –”

    “I know who they are,” Draco interrupted, looking rather impressed, an expression that did not fit his face well. “It’s a group of wizards and witches fighting against You-Know-Who. My father and his associates talk about them all the time, how they are an insult to the wizarding world. But how did you know about them? And what do you mean you saw Lupin in it?”

    “Well,” Hermione started, not sure how to begin. The Order had become a big part of her life ever since the summer between fourth and fifth year when she had stayed at headquarters. It was something she rarely spoke about to anyone but Harry and Ron, as she wasn’t technically a member. “Two summers previous, I went to the Weasley’s house. I often spend the summer there, or at least part of the summer.”

    “Yes,” Draco prodded, feeling a slight rush of jealously, which he did not display except for clenched fists.

    “Well when I arrived that time the Weasley’s were on their way to the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. I went along. Ron, Harry and I helped clean the place up.”

    “And the werewolf is in the Order?” Draco clarified.

    “Right,” Hermione nodded. Then she shrugged. “Well, you’ll see it all, the Order I mean.”

    Draco wore a sudden confused expression. “The Order of the Phoenix? Why would I see it? I’m sure I’m the last person they would want involved.”

    “But that’s where we’re going, didn’t you know? The house we’re staying at, that’s headquarters,” Hermione explained.

    Draco paled visibly. “That can’t be right. I thought we were staying in the old Black estate, and the Black’s were some of the darkest wizards ever known.”

    “Sirius wasn’t,” Hermione burst out angrily before she could stop herself. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. It would do not good to shout at Draco, even if she did miss Sirius terribly. It wasn’t Draco’s fault that Sirius had died. “Sirius Black was the last to inherit it and he gave it to Dumbledore, to use as a headquarters for the Order.”

    Draco remembered his mother, Narcissa, telling him about the Black’s, her own family before she had wed Draco’s father. By her description the Black family had been one of the darkest families around. They had never been persecuted for it because, like the Malfoy’s, they had been in bed with the Ministry of Magic and given generous donations to various Ministry officials. They had also been one of the purest families as far as bloodlines, able to trace their pure wizard blood back to the Middle Ages. Draco could not imagine the house being overrun by Weasley’s. “Who all is in the Order?”

    “Well, the Weasley’s of course, including Fred and George now but not Ron or Ginny, as they are in school. Lots of others too. Mad Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, gosh. lots of people,” Hermione answered, ticking names off on her fingers. “Harry and I aren’t members. You’ve got to be of age.”

    Draco nodded absently, thinking. The Order of Phoenix did not permit underage wizards to become members, but the Death Eaters started early. He remember his own training in the basement of his home with his father as a teacher. Lucius had been a cold-hearted father even then, never offering sympathy when Draco hurt himself by performing a spell incorrectly. He had often resorted to biting remarks and humiliating Draco for the least mistake.

    “Draco?” Hermione asked, touching his arm. “We’re here.”

    Drawn out of his own memories Draco surveyed the moonlit streets. The shop windows were dark due to the late hour, but the pubs were still open. Music wafted down the street, mingled with the scent of alcohol. Here and there solitary wizards walked with their hoods drawn close. Knots of twos and threes burst from the pubs, laughing too loudly and clutching one another for balance as they stumbled down the street.

    Hermione and Draco lingered in the shadows so not to be seen. Hermione wished she had an Invisibility cloak; despite being disillusioned she felt as if she was visible to the naked eye.

    “Where is he?” Draco hissed under his breath, his eyes on the drunken wizards. “He was coming alone?”

    “He was, yes,” Hermione answered, biting her lip. She felt entirely too exposed in the village of Hogsmeade and hoped the Lupin had planned a safe way for them to get to London. Remus Lupin was no Mad Eye Moony, but he was cautious, and Hermione felt she could rely on his to bring them safely to 12 Grimmauld Place, London.

    “I don’t see him. Were we supposed to meet him out on the street, or in a pub?” Draco asked. He glanced around, peering into shadows, and then he gasped.

    “Wha –” Hermione started to say, but Draco clamped a hand over her mouth, cutting off sound. He outstretched one arm and pointed. Hermione followed his gaze and cringed.

    There, standing in the shadows beside the Three Broomsticks, were four figures dressed in black. Their faces were covered with masks, and Hermione identified them instantly as Death Eaters. Her eyes flicked up at Draco, taking in his shocked expression. He so rarely looked surprised, so often he behaved like a cat, landing confidently on his feet no matter what happened. She was the one who became bothered by things, taken aback by the slightest disruption.

    Chiding herself Hermione told herself that she needed to be strong and level headed for Draco. He was the rash one, she needed to make sure everything went all right.

    “I don’t think they can see us. Stay still,” Draco mouthed. Barely a sound escaped his lips, but Hermione understood anyway. She could feel Draco’s tension, the rigidity of his muscles.

    The hooded Death Eaters mumbled to themselves, laughing. They were obviously a bit tipsy. Clearly they were not expecting anything to happen in Hogsmeade, and had given in to the festive atmosphere of the village after dark. They edged slowly down the street, arms around one another’s shoulders as if nothing was bound to occur.

    Draco was thankful for their inebriation; although Death Eaters were crueler when they used alcohol, the drinks also made them clumsier and less observant. He figured that if he and Hermione could remain hidden they would go undetected. He narrowed his eyes, watching MacNair, one of his fathers friends, launch into a detailed description of what he, MacNair, would do to when he located Draco. McNair had taught Draco much of the Dark Arts that he knew, and had served as something of a mentor when Draco was a child. Now the man was gleefully describing the Cruciatus curse and it’s assumed effects on Draco.

    “I’d give him the old Crucio, watch him lie on the ground and scream a bit, the traitor bastard!” McNair gleamed, his teeth very yellow in the moonlight. “And then when he’s begging for mercy –”

    “– Draco!” came a whisper, and Draco felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around, his wand already out.

    “Quiet!” ordered Remus Lupin, raising his own wand. “Put that down. It’s just me. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here. More Death Eaters are on the way, I saw them coming. Voldemort must know you’ve left the school.”

    Draco was never one to obey anyone without a fight, especially not Remus Lupin, who was shabbily dressed and an old werewolf to boot. However, Hermione was looking at Remus as though he was salvation personified, and Draco was not entirely confident of the situation either. Although he was not prepared to admit it, he felt a bit better having someone else in charge. Slowly, skeptically, he lowered his wand.         

    Lupin’s eyes blazed intensely as he surveyed Draco and Hermione. It was clear that he wanted to say something, most likely to ask Hermione if she was mad to be in the company of a Malfoy, but he was fairly mild-mannered and gentle, and kept his mouth closed for the time being.

    Hermione surveyed him quickly. He did not look afraid but rather very worn out as if he could use a nice long rest. His clothing, always shabby, was patched in so many places it was impossible to identify the original fabric. His body, however, showed the real wear and tear. Although Lupin was not very old his face was slightly sunken and his hair was liberally streaked with grey. What caught Hermione off guard the most was the sadness in Lupin’s eyes. As far as she knew he had never been in Azkaban, the wizard prison, but he looked much like a former inmate whose happiness and good cheer had been sucked out and lost. Feeling a pang of guilt, Hermione looked away. She should have kept in contact with him better, she knew, especially after Sirius had died. The loss of his godfather had been difficult on Harry, but Lupin had lost a best friend, someone he had been very close to for most of his life.

    Lupin reached under his faded cloak and produced a bundle of shiny, silvery material. He held it out to Draco. “Put it on,” he mouthed.

    Draco took it, feeling the slippery silkiness of the fabric run across his fingers. He sniffed; it didn’t smell either musty or bad, as he had expected. Shaking his head he pulled on the cloak. He would have to start giving people who helped him the benefit of the doubt, but it was quite hard to do so. He had never been overly optimistic about his companions before.

    Lupin turned to Hermione, his eyes sympathetic as he held up his wand. “There are Death Eaters all over this village, looking for Draco. I know you see only a few, but there are many. They know he had left Hogwarts, and that there is no way out except through the village. I need to get him out.”

    Hermione nodded, silently. “What is it I need to do?”

    Remus looked very sad. “We need a distraction, Hermione, so the Death Eaters do not take notice as Draco and I slip away. I would never ask you to do this, but I’m afraid there is no other choice. Dumbledore did not believe they would know Draco’s whereabouts until you were both safe in London, but they must have been watching the grounds, because they know.”

    “You will need to cause some sort of scene, something to attract their attention and draw it away from us. As much as I hate to place you in harms way it is of vital importance that Draco safely escapes the Death Eaters. Therefore, I must have you cause some sort of distraction while Draco and I flee. I must guard him as much as I would prefer to stay with you.”

    “You want me to be bait?” Hermione asked incredulously.

    Remus nodded. “I hate to have be this way but yes, you must somehow distract the Death Eaters. You must –”

    “Are you mad? You must be,” Draco whispered forcefully, as he ripped off his cloak. Turning to Remus with a look of crazed hatred on his face, he hissed. “I’m not going to have her sacrifice herself so that I can make a clean getaway. I got myself into this by turning from the Death Eaters. She’s not paying for it.”

    Hermione drew a deep breath, not looking at Draco. Instead she turned to Lupin. “If you need me to, I can do it.”

    “No, you can’t,” Draco declared. He reached out and caught Hermione’s wrist. “No, I refuse, you’re not going to risk yourself for me. I won’t allow it.”    

    “If I don’t they could catch you. They would kill you,” Hermione answered softly, her eyes filled with tears. She stopped herself from crying by jutting out her jaw defiantly.

    Draco pulled her closer. “Then I’ll get caught. I’m not going to have you out there risking your life. It’s my fault, it’s my problem.”

    Remus put his hand on Draco’s arm. Draco immediately shook it off, looking furious. “You must allow to her go. We haven’t much time, I cannot explain it all to you now, but there are reasons you must live. I don’t want to see Hermione hurt, I care for her more then you know, but these are my orders. I must get you out safely.”

    Hermione took a deep breath. Nervousness tingled through her body, making her feel keyed up and panicked.

    “Hermione,” Remus said, turning to her. “I have left a broom leaning against the Shrieking Shack. We only need ten minutes and we shall be gone. Be extremely careful. You know I would never ask you to risk your life, I’m so sorry I have to rely on you for this.”

    “I understand,” Hermione answered. She looked at Draco, biting her lip. Although she was somewhat shy, the prospect that she may never see Draco again, indeed that she might die, gave her courage. She stepped forward and kissed him, craving the heat of his breath and the pressure of his lips on hers.

    When she started to step away, Draco pulled her on closer, his hand in a tight grip on her arm. He sneered at Lupin. “She’s not going to be bait. I don’t care who gave you those orders or what my life is worth. I won’t risk her life.”

    Lupin bowed his head and Draco, thinking that Lupin had given in turned to lift the Invisibility cloak over Hermione. As soon as his head was turned Lupin raised his wand with astonishing speed.

    “Expelliarmus!” Lupin said, somewhat loudly. Draco’s wand flew into Remus’s open hand. Draco look positively murderous. He lunged, but by then Lupin had fired a second curse, a sleeping curse. Draco crumpled onto the ground soundlessly.

    Hermione stared, her knuckles in her mouth, terrified. The sound of the curse had caught the attention of several passers-by. Without hesitation Lupin did a complicated wand wave and picked up Draco. The Invisibility cloak covered them both, leaving Hermione appearing to be standing by herself.

    “Hurry,” Remus whispered hoarsely. Hermione picked up her own wand, her mind racing to recall something, anything, from the Dark Arts lessons Harry had given her. The Death Eaters, six of them walking together, hurried towards her, wands out.