Abyss

Abyss

Hermione clutched at her blanket tighter, and wrapped it more securely around herself. She stood alone, and quietly, at the doorway of the house, gazing into the arrival of a new day... but this day looked especially depressing, with dark clouds painting the entire sky dim. It was already the fourth time she was doing this. Just before the sun broke out into the horizon she was already on her feet, looking at the serene and calm greenery that literally swallowed the entire safe house. Tall patches of grass were parted into two directions, each connecting the house to the different parts of civilization. A small passageway on the left lead to a magical doorway to Diagon Alley. Narrow grassless grounds on the right lead to the other safe houses. All these Harry told her whenever they spoke to each other... that, unfortunately, weren't a very common event nowadays.

It was peculiar, she thought, sighing and leaning more heavily on the entryway. She'd never had this much disagreement with Harry since... well, ever. Of course they had their differences, but always, always, they manage to work through it in the end. But now? Rare it was that a day passed without either of them scowling or not talking to each other... and of course the reason was very obvious. It was rather regrettable that Harry was just as stubborn to treat Malfoy poorly as she was to treat him civilly. He would never understand; all he'd had, and was still having, with Malfoy were petty, childish, and ridiculous fights. Harry just couldn't, or wouldn't, grasp the fact that she was merely acting out of gratitude and, dared she say and think it that way, friendship. He would never understand, and right now Hermione was not ecstatic to make him. Not if it meant ruining a friendship for the sake of building another.

Hermione shivered, and despite the blanket she had on goosebumps still ran freely across her skin because of the unusual chill that dawn brought forth. She wasn't exactly superstitious, but somehow the gloomy morning seemed to be sending her a message, that something different, something odd, was going to happen that day...

"And what, exactly," drawled a voice, "are you doing there?"

"Brooding," she retorted, not needing to turn around to know whom she was talking to. The laziness and the dramatic intonation betrayed it all.

"Do you have to do that with the door wide open? It's freezing cold out there, and you're bringing all that air in. Come inside and shut the door behind you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You keep forgetting I'm not some slave you could just order around, Malfoy."

"Fine. Would you please, please, please, please come inside and shut the door behind you?"

She chuckled, despite herself. "Not really good with being polite, are you?"

"You're one to talk; you won't even look at me."

Hermione straightened herself. She noted the slow brightening of the sky before she turned around to face him. "Well--"

He immediately pointed at something behind her. "The door, Granger! Close the damned door."

She did, as slowly as humanly possible. The door barely registered a click when it met the lock. He glared at her, and she smiled at him. "And a good morning to you, too."

"Look at yourself," he admonished, a frown permanently residing on his face. "You've been standing out there for too long. Your nose is red already."

Hermione self-consciously touched her nose. "You're lying."

"Ha! Am I? Look in the mirror and see for yourself."

"I don't believe you." She held her chin up, defiance radiating from within her. But he looked terribly convincing that he was telling the truth, and to be honest herself she was beginning to feel really queer already.

She was about to walk past him when he took a step back, raising his hands in front of him in defense. "Don't come any closer to me! you might develop a cold and I don't want to catch it. I'm perfectly at ease at being healthy, thank you very much."

"What?" she said, appearing to look very troubled. Hermione laid a hand over her chest, acting as though his very words wounded her deeply. "No morning kiss?"

Malfoy smirked at her. "Now that's just you daydreaming."

"Oh, please. Like I would like a... a... ah--" She sneezed. Afterwards Hermione straightened herself and wrinkled her nose delicately, never wanting to admit she was wrong.

And he didn't wait too long to rub that in. "Told you."

"In my world it's 'bless you,' but whatever suits you best." Hermione looked at him from head to toe, taking in his disgruntled and rumpled state. "Well someone obviously woke up at the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"And someone obviously overlooked her own appearance today. Rule number one, Granger," Malfoy said, sticking one finger out, "before you judge other people you must be able to find yourself faultless. And, no offense, but in all the years I have the displeasure of knowing you, I can honestly say I've never seen you look worse than you do now."

"Offense taken," she quipped. "But not that it bothers me, since I could easily say the same about you."

"I really doubt that. Seriously, though, don't give it too much thought," he said, not bothering to apologize for the rude and judgmental comment, which was so typically his character. "You've been thinking for too long already."

"How would you know?"

Malfoy shoved his hands to his pockets. "I've been up as long as you've been," he said.

"And you were... what, watching me?"

"Watch you brood?" he scoffed. "Please. Like I want to endure long, dragging minutes of self-punishment. I don't think I've done anything to warrant that amount of pain."

"Then what were you doing?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I've been doing my own brooding. It's not like there's anything else to do around here, except contemplate on my misery and bad luck to actually be here."

"Tell me about it. Thirty-three students and not one, single book among them! It's like... taboo."

"Just one of the many amenities this muggle house lacks. Where's Dumbledore? I'd like to complain to him about our very poor condition." He walked all over the place, and she followed him around with her eyes. "Look at this place. Ten bedrooms and only two bathrooms? One kitchen? No house elves?" Malfoy spread his arms apart, looking very distressed indeed. "This isn't a safe house! This is... a... torture chamber! People go to places like this to be punished, not to be saved!"

Though of course she knew he was exaggerating as usual, Hermione couldn't help but agree with the fine points he raised. "The only thing abundant in this house is its occupants."

"Too true." Malfoy shook his head.

Feeling a bit warmed already Hermione removed the blanket from around her, and folded it neatly. She hung it at the back of a chair.

"Are you hungry?"

"For some stale bread and sour cheese? Boy, am I ever!" But Malfoy followed her to the kitchen nonetheless.

She took the sack from one of the drawers and reached inside. Hermione frowned, as she was only able to retrieve a fist-size lump of bread. She searched once more, but there was really no sign of the cheese anywhere. Her eyes met Malfoy's, and they both regarded the food in distaste.

"Well that'll surely feed an army."

"Good thing the army's not here yet." She contemplated on splitting the bread in two, but then there was just not enough food for both of them. Having very little to eat would probably worsen their hunger than relieve it. The best way, she thought, was just to have one of them eat it. Hermione looked at Malfoy again. "How hungry are you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because if I learn that you're hungrier than I am, then I'll just give you this bread so you can eat it."

"What about you?"

She shrugged. "I'll live. Now how hungry are you?"

"Why don't you stop this incessant questioning and just hand me that?"

"Why don't you just answer the question? Unlike some blond ponce that shall not be named, I am very honest and fair. If I deem that--"

"Fine, fine, I'll answer the question if it'll stop you from delivering a speech. I'm very hungry, all right? I'm even hungry enough to eat whatever kind of food Mrs. Parkinson will give me."

"And we have a winner." Hermione took his hand and laid the bread on his palm. "Enjoy."

Malfoy looked at his hand for what seemed to be the longest time. "You're giving me the bread," he said.

"I just did."

"No, seriously, I mean... you really gave me the bread."

She frowned, very confused at what he was driving at. "And your point is?"

"What about you?"

"How redundant, Malfoy."

"But... are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now eat it!"

Malfoy took the bread from his palm, very slowly at that, and she deliberately looked away, focusing intently instead at the sack she was folding carefully. She really did not want to see him eat. It would just be too much, because in all honesty she was really very hungry as well. But when she looked at him again she saw that he was holding half of it to her face.

"As if I'll enjoy this alone," he said, his voice unnaturally soft.

She stared at him, unblinking, unbelieving this kind of generosity. Hermione felt tears beginning to prick the corners of her eyes. She didn't know if it was because of her dysfunctional, early-morning brain, but she was really touched at his act. To think that a selfish, spoiled brat like him would split what little food he had with her... it was deeply moving.

With trembling fingers she took what he was giving her.

Their hands met, one giving, and the other receiving. It was an ordinary act, one that happened all the time, and yet this moment was an exception. It was an exception because something... stirred between them, and they both realized it at the time it did. Draco was staring at her, his eyes robbed of anything else, baring the gentleness that was underneath. She wasn't looking away either, never caring about the heat that was slowly burning her neck and cheeks. Fire raged from within her; making her breathe with exertion, think with difficulty.

He saw that heat, for his eyes now rested not on her eyes but on the lower part of her face. Hermione swallowed, nervous all of a sudden. Why she was nervous, the answer eluded her, for it was rare that she'd be nervous in front of any man, save only one.

Suddenly all there was, all she could see and was aware of, was him.

He still held her hand, the crumbs grounded between their palms. She could see his face shift, his expression becoming that of someone's she never saw before. This one, this one had Draco's face but not the cruelty, the severity he was known for. This one wore a kindness impossible to see on a Malfoy.

And before she could memorize that look, he had withdrawn his hand, and looked away. The moment was lost.

Hermione felt like she was going to explode. It was very warm and very cold all of a sudden. Beads of sweat began to emerge from her skin, and she wanted to fan herself, but she didn't. Not when he was still here.

All of a sudden she found it uncomfortable, and suffocating, to be around him. Apparently, he felt the same way.

"Um..." Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well, um... enjoy."

She didn't speak, not trusting her voice right this instant. Hermione merely nodded.

"I'll leave you alone." He gave her a half-smile and left.

She noticed that, as he was leaving, he didn't eat his share of the bread. Instead, she saw him shove it inside his pocket.

Hermione decided she wasn't hungry anymore, and that she'll keep her share as well.

The moment was lost, but it could be recalled.

A few minutes elapsed. Hermione's brain, now properly functioning, began to analyze and rationalize the events that had occurred. As she cradled her head on her hands one question only emerged from her lips.

"What in freaking hell just happened?"

*

"This is interesting," Harry muttered, looking at Hermione, who was at the couch, and then at Malfoy, who was standing near a boarded window. For the whole two hours he was up he never saw them talk to each other, and stayed away from each other, which were highly unusual. Harry was getting used to see them stuck to each other's sides like spell-o-tape on paper, but this morning was very different. He could only assume that something happened to the two while he was still, fortunately, drifting in the realm of unconsciousness.

What that something was, Harry was really not ecstatic to know. But some part of him was grateful for it.

"Hey," he said, walking closer to her. She never showed any indication that she heard him speak, and instead kept on fiddling with the blanket she held. "Hermione?"

"What?" she spoke, finally looking up at him.

He noticed that she was looking paler than he remembered. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Do you have a cold?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked again. "I've seen a lot of the kids developing colds, you know. I can recognize the symptoms right away, and from what I see, your nose--"

"I'm not developing anything, Harry," she insisted, playing with the blanket again. "Not any cold... or something else." Her voice died down and she got a far-away look on her face.

"If you say so." He reached down and placed a hand over hers. "If you feel anything, just let me know, okay? I've got some potent stuff that'll blast that cold away."

Hermione smiled. "I'll let you know as soon as I feel anything."

"You do that." Harry patted her hand before moving away. "Are you hungry?"

"No," came her rushed answer. "I... I mean... we don't have any food left."

That sure did stop him in his tracks. "What? I just bought those--"

"--four days ago, Potter." Malfoy spoke from his own side of the living room. "I think now's a great time to go shopping again."

Harry turned to him, noticing the very blatant absence of sarcasm or even undertone in that annoying voice of his. He seemed... distracted and preoccupied. "It's the hunger," he deduced. He made a mental note to keep Malfoy hungry all the time so as to make him tolerable. "Fine," he spoke aloud. "I'll just buy us some food."

"You can't leave this house, Harry!" Hermione said, standing up, the blanket falling to her feet unnoticed.

"Why can't I?"

"Because the students get all pathetic and whiny when they learn of your absence," Malfoy answered. "And it's not really my idea of a good time to stuff their faces full of cloth just so to keep things quiet around here."

Harry looked at him again, his brows drawn together. He made another mental note to keep Malfoy full so that he won't be so creepily talkative all of a sudden. "I see. But you both know that if I don't leave the house we'll all starve to death, right?"

"Not necessarily," Hermione protested. "You showed me the doorway to Diagon Alley, remember? I can go instead of you."

"Yes, and then you'll be caught, and then what?"

She tore her eyes away from Harry to look at Malfoy. Surprise, then anger, colored her face. "What?" she spat. "You think I'll screw this one up?"

"Of course you will. You always screw up. Things were perfectly normal one minute and the next..." He straightened up and walked towards them. "I'll go."

"Oh, and now it's my fault that things got weird in there? Besides," she scoffed, clearly offended at the notion of Malfoy going instead of her, "you don't even know where the doorway is."

"Then show me."

"Never."

"Fine. Don't tell me. You're not the only one who knows where the doorway is, anyway." Malfoy looked at Harry. "Where is it?"

He got a bit of a surprise to be suddenly included in this war of words. "Well--"

"Don't tell him anything, Harry!" Hermione said, grabbing his arm rather painfully that it caused him to flinch. "If he's so high and mighty then maybe he can find it out for himself."

"But I don't have the time to find it myself. If I do, do you really think I'll stay here and listen to all this?" Malfoy fixed Harry a very serious look. "Work with me, Potter. Doorway. Where is it?"

Harry fought to remove himself from Hermione's steely grip. "See here--"

"What makes you think you won't screw this one up yourself?" She said to Malfoy, releasing Harry and planting her hands on her hips.

"Because, unlike some bushy-haired girl who shall not be named, I don't walk around without a wand."

"Ha! As if yours is the only wand I can borrow."

"Let's just see if someone lends you, you manipulative little minx!"

"Oh, that's rich coming from a squeaky little ferret!"

"All right!" Harry yelled. "Stop it, you two!" He raked his hand through his hair, very frustrated to say the least. Now he could say he understood Hermione's exasperation whenever she was trying to patch things up between him and Malfoy. "I can't even begin to express how odd this feels, being the one in the middle of a fight. But enough is enough! Hermione, you get to go to Diagon Alley."

He didn't miss the way her face lighted up with a triumphant smile aimed at Malfoy.

"Only if Malfoy goes with you."

Just as quickly as it lit up, her face fell. Hermione turned to him, her face livid. "What? Harry--"

"You don't have a wand, Hermione," Harry said. "Nowadays Diagon Alley is a very dangerous place to walk around defenseless. Since I can't go, he'll be there to protect you."

"That's me, your protector," drawled Malfoy. "Fear not, distressing damsel."

She snorted. "As if I need someone to protect me. I never really wanted my own knight, thank you very much."

"You want me to get my wand so I can shove it up your... nose?"

"Try, and I'll guarantee something bigger will be shoved into your ars--"

"Don't even try my patience, you two," Harry said, growing increasingly annoyed. "Go, before I change my mind and leave you here with the children to deal with. And I think you both know dodging Death Eaters anywhere is a lot better than babysitting."

Hermione stalked to the door, with Malfoy following a short distance behind her. A few frighteningly quiet moments later, they were gone.

Harry contemplated a few moments, and then shrugged. Deciding it was best not to dwell on unexplainable phenomena like this one, he muttered, "Stranger things have happened."