Title: Fire and Powder

Chapter: 11

Disclaimer: Not mine. Cue endless weeping.

Notes: Sorry this took so long, I was fighting a vicious bout of writers block. I'm currently looking for more beta's if anyone is interested? You'll get to read chapters as soon as I'm done, which could be an incentive if anyone was particularly distraught over how long it takes me to update. There's a lot of sexual tension in this chapter, I enjoyed writing it hopefully you enjoy reading it. My social life has plummeted recently, may it rest in peace.

"What if evil doesn't really exist? What if evil is something dreamed up by man, and there is nothing to struggle against except out own limitations? The constant battle between our will, our desires, and our choices?"

Libba Bray (Rebel Angels)

Hermione leaned her head against the window of the train, gasping as she felt the cold glass about her skin. Tentatively raising a hand, she skimmed a finger against the glass, relishing in the chill that spread through her body.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her but kept his mouth shut. They weren't alone in this compartment, the train was surprisingly crowded for this late in the evening. They were on their way from Spain to France, heading back to England. Muggle transportation was their only option as it was too far to apperate and a portkey was too conspicuous.

"I can feel the cold," Hermione informed him, eyeing the young woman across from them to make sure she didn't notice anything. The woman continued reading her book, not looking up once at Hermione's voice.

Draco nodded at her in acknowledgement before looking past her and out the window. Leaving his parents was harder than he thought it would be. He felt like he was betraying them by abandoning them in Spain. He knew he was being ridiculous, it wasn't as if he was their protector or anything, but still. Blood is thicker than water, and betrayal was not taken lightly in the Malfoy family. He left a note behind in his room. Nothing explicit, just a promise that he knew what he was doing and not to worry. His worst fear was that they would follow him, hunt him down until they found him and forced him to go with them to whatever safe house they discovered next. That would be the death of them all.

Hermione watched the Spanish landscape hastily escape out the window, her eyelids growing oddly heavy. A weight strikingly similar to sleepiness muddled her thoughts until she couldn't help but close her eyes, the countryside fading from her consciousness.

Draco watched as Granger fell asleep against the window, wondering how she could ever find such a position comfortable. It was a good sign she could feel the cold. They must be moving in the right direction if she was regaining human sensations again. He briefly wondered how horrific it would be if she suddenly became visible to everyone randomly in public. Ah well, no use pondering over such trivialities now. They had more pressing concerns.

A rustling from across the compartment drew Draco's attention away from the Gryffindor girl sitting next to him. The woman across from them, who had sat down in their compartment at the last stop, was rummaging loudly through her bag. She looked up at Draco's gaze, giving a small grin, blue eyes sparkling. Securing her book in her bag, the woman brushed a lock of straight blonde hair behind one ear, her blue eyes sparkling with something Draco couldn't quite place. The Slytherin admired the pink blush on the young woman's pale cheeks, watching as she reclined her head back against the headrest as though preparing to go to sleep. She stretched a thin leg across the small compartment towards Draco. Her purple dress slid up her thigh with the movement, exposing smooth, snowy flesh. They were entirely alone in the small compartment, save Hermione, whom this woman didn't realize was sleeping a mere inches from Draco.

The woman slipped her foot out of her sandal, her leg lifting towards Draco's. Cold toes pressed against his calf stroking sensually higher and higher. Draco met the woman's gaze, recognizing the heat in her eyes. He automatically moved his trouser clad leg away from the seat, allowing the woman more room for her exploration towards the back of his knee.

A sigh from next to him jolted him out of his concentration which had been solely on the beautiful woman in front of him. His eyes snapped to Hermione, who had shifted in her sleep and turned instinctively towards him, searching for a more comfortable position. Her head nestled sleepily into his shoulder, another sigh escaping her lips. Draco let out a shaky breath and tried to regain his misplaced composure. He pulled his leg back against the seat and the blonde woman's foot dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Sorry," he muttered, unable to watch as the woman toed her sandals back on, huffing silently to herself. Draco caught a muffled jumble of French expletives.

Hermione's hand wrapped around Draco's arm in her sleep, grabbing tightly as though she thought he was suddenly going to slip away.

The woman, embarrassed, not to mention frustrated, roughly grabbed her bag and stood, leaving them alone in the compartment leaving only the faint aroma of floral perfume.

Draco was confused. The blonde woman was gorgeous, not to mention completely willing. Those were two of his favorite things. Why didn't he let her continue her ministrations? Surely they would have progressed nicely.

Hermione's grip tightened, her grasp becoming his anchor to reality. He fought the ridiculous urge to smell her hair. He wouldn't. Definitely not. Nor would he run his fingers through it, just to feel the texture. No.

She shifted even closer somehow, nuzzled closer, lips pressing lightly against his neck. Her breath was fire against his skin, a tantalizing inferno. He tilted his head slightly, brown hair tickling his face. Inhale.

Hermione woke up confused. Something warm was pressed against her mouth. She jerked away surprised when she realized it was Draco she was sleeping on. Thankfully she didn't wake him up with her sudden movements. That would have been horrifying. How embarrassing! Why didn't he wake her up or push her away?

Taking a deep breath, she took a moment to compose herself. Sleep was still weighing heavily on her thoughts but she fought valiantly to wake up her mind.

It was too dark outside the train now, not even the moon could shed light on the country landscape. She noticed with some confusion that the pretty blonde woman from before seems to have left the compartment, leaving Draco and her alone.

A voice announced their station over the intercom. Hermione gently shook Draco awake, unable to meet his gray eyes after having found herself sleeping on him just a few minutes ago. How horrifying! She would certainly die of embarrassment.

"Are we there?" Draco asked groggily, rubbing his neck to relieve the strained muscles.

Hermione nodded, reaching for his backpack and handing it to him as people began to crowd into the hallway on their way to the exit.

The sky was black when they stepped out of the French train station. The large clock on the street informed them that it was just after five am.

"The ferry leaves at seven, so we can head there now," Draco told her, pulling his coat tighter around his body in the chilly night air. Old snow was piled along the sidewalk, crunching wetly with each step.

Hermione shivered, fingering her jumper and wishing she still had her bag with all her winter clothes. It was freezing.

"You need a coat," Draco commented.

"Very astute, thank you," Hermione shot back, crossing her arms against her chest, pulling her limbs close for warmth.

Draco struggled. He should give her his coat…it was the courteous, gentleman thing to do. His father would scold him if he ever found out that a young lady was cold in his company and he didn't offer her his coat. But his father also probably didn't think this rule applied to mudbloods. But they needed to work together. Or they would die.

With that logic, Draco shrugged out of his coat, placing it over Grangers shoulders before she had the chance to react.

The instant warmth the coat provided was nothing compared to the shock Hermione felt at having Draco Malfoy—Death Eater and childhood bully—give her his coat. Her mouth dropped open, astounded.

"Don't have an aneurism, Granger." Draco said, rummaging through his backpack for another jumper which he quickly pulled over his shirt. "It's just a coat."

"I didn't say anything," Hermione responded, slipping her arms through the sleeves of the too-large coat. It was incredibly warm and soft, much more luxurious than anything her family could ever afford.

An older couple exited from a side building, silencing them. It was too easy to forget that Hermione was invisible to most everyone. They needed to be careful.

Draco increased his pace as they neared the ferry station, while Hermione lagged behind, letting the couple pass. Hermione allowed herself to become distracted with the way Draco's blonde hair caught the dim street lights, yellow contrasting against the black night. She drank in his profile. He walked with a confidence garnered from a lifetime of fancy dinner parties and exclusive pureblood society. Draco looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at her when he noticed how much she had slowed down. She quickly picked up her pace, trying not to focus on the gleam in his grey eyes, or the sharp angles of his face, or the slight part of his lips, hot breath escaping into the night air.

The ferry was crowded for such an early hour in the morning. Commuters, most likely, on their way to work. Was it a weekday? Draco didn't know anymore. There was no need for calendars when every day was hell. War rages on, weekend or holiday.

There were very few seats left when Draco and Hermione boarded the small ship. They ended up in the back, near the engine, crammed into a small bench that certainly wasn't made for two people. Maybe one person and a small child, but definitely not two teenagers.

Their legs were toughing and Hermione studiously ignored the warmth of Draco's thigh pressed against hers on the too-small bench. This trip would only take an hour, she could make it without spontaneously combusting. Looking out the window, she watched the wind create waves in the sea as France receded into the early morning fog. The sun was rising out the window, blinding against the dim ferry. Around them, people sat engrossed in their morning rituals. Newspapers crinkles as pages were turned, throats were cleared, coffee sipped.

Draco watched Hermione shield her eyes against the appearing sun, the rays catching in her curls. He had another ridiculous urge to reach out and touch one, to feel the texture against his fingertips, and brush the brown locks behind her ear. He had lost it. Goodbye sanity, it was nice knowing you.

"We should sleep," Draco suggested, his voice low to keep the other passengers from overhearing him.

Hermione nodded, agreeing. They had slept on the train, but that was a few hours ago and really they didn't know when they'd be able to sleep again. He was right. She yawned and leaned her head against the window, thankful at least that they had a bench next to the window. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to overtake her. Minutes past. Five. Ten. Twenty. Sleep did not come.

Opening her eyes, she noticed that Draco also wasn't sleeping. His eyes were staring directly in front of him, looking but not seeing.

"Not tired?" she asked, resisting the urge to yawn again.

Draco snapped back to reality and shook his head slightly at her, still trying not to say anything lest they be overheard.

Hermione scanned the passengers near them. Some had fallen asleep, newspapers and magazines forgotten in their laps. Others typed away on their cell phones, somehow having phone service so far from land. Peculiar. Maybe they were closer than she thought? True enough, looking out the window Hermione saw land approaching. They still probably had about twenty minutes, but she had dozed off for longer than she thought.

"Look," Draco whispered, his voice suddenly unnaturally strained.

"What?" Hermione asked, alert.

Draco didn't answer, she followed his line of sight to find him staring at a tall man in a large black coat. The man was sitting in one of the single person seats in the middle of the aisle, his back facing them. Hermione didn't know why Draco found him suddenly interesting. She looked at the Slytherin next to her, confused.

Draco didn't answer her, instead he narrowed his eyes and held out his arm, rubbing the fingers of his other hand along his forearm. Oh. Death eater. Hermione's eyes snapped back up to the man, watching as he read through what appeared to be a muggle newspaper. But it wasn't. As she stared at it longer she realized the pictures were moving. Certainly not muggle. That was the Daily Prophet. It was probably charmed so only other wizards could see what it really was. The man flipped the page and appeared to be engrossed in what he was reading.

The ferry drifted closer to shore. The sun was soundly in the sky now, light shining brightly though the windows announcing that morning had fully arrived. The people began shuffling about, stuffing newspapers into briefcases, ending their phone conversations with hurried goodbyes. The man looked up as the intercom announced that it was now safe to depart the ferry. He stood, straightening his black slacks with his palms, one hand still clutching the Daily Prophet.

Draco grabbed Hermione's arm, pulling her out of the bench and the opposite direction from the exit.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked as the other passengers filed the opposite direction, in a hurry to exit the vessel.

Draco pulled her closer, his lips near her ear. "He'll recognize me. He knows my father. He knows me."

Hermione's eyes widened at his words, realizing the precarious situation they were presented with. Draco stepped into one of the back aisles, allowing the remaining passengers to continue past him. Hermione scanned the front of the ship for the Death Eater but couldn't find him. He must have left already.

"I think he's gone," Hermione commented.

Draco ignored her. Idiotic Gryffindor. Sure, he appeared to be gone, but appearances meant nothing! They would have to wait until they knew for certain he was gone. They still had to go through immigration and Draco wasn't particularly looking forward to standing behind one of his father's old…friends in the line. The muggles around them would be completely insignificant when it came to deterring a Death Eater.

Lucas Chandler. That was the Death Eater on the ferry with them. Draco remembered him from meetings and overheard conversations between his father and other Dark Lord followers. He wasn't particularly high up in the Dark Lords favor, but if anything that gave the man more motivation to turn him over. The Chandlers were a pureblood line that hadn't been related to the Malfoys in a few generations, and it was nowhere near as influential, but they still were well respected.

He waited until the last person had exited the ferry before grabbing Hermione's arm and tugging her toward the exit.

"Maybe I should go first in order to check he isn't there? Because he can't see me," Hermione suggested.

Draco nodded and waited as Hermione hurried off the ferry, walking down the gangway and looking every which way for a sign of the Death Eater. When she saw the coast was clear she turned back to Draco, nodding at him to say it was okay to proceed. He joined her on the gangway, and they continued on to the immigration building.

The line was long but went quickly enough, the immigration officer barely even glanced at Draco's passport. Before they knew it, Hermione and Draco were back outside, the cold biting at their skin.

"England," Hermione breathed, feeling both relieved and ambivalent at being back in her home country.

"What an astute observation, Granger," Draco responded sarcastically, throwing her words back at her and thrusting his hands into his coat pockets.

Draco's eyes scanned the crowd of people waiting outside the terminal. He was looking for—ah, yes. "There he is."

Hermione followed Draco's line of vision for the second time this morning and found the Death Eater from the ferry walking purposefully down the street.

"Let's go," she said, immediately moving to follow the man.

A hand around her wrist stopped her mid-step. "Are you mad?" Draco demanded. "You do not follow stray Death Eaters, Granger, unless you have a death wish!" he paused as he realized what he said. "See how well that worked out last time?" his eyes raked her figure, alluding to the fact that she was no longer in the land of the living.

Hermione glared at him. "What do you suggest? Standing around until Merlin himself gives you a sign? This man could lead us somewhere important, clearly he's here for a reason!"

"You don't know that!" Draco exclaimed, eyes darting around anxiously to make sure nobody had noticed his outburst. They hadn't. He lowered his voice and continued, "He could be visiting his fucking in-laws for all we know, Granger!"

Hermione snorted. "Not likely. You Death Eaters are always up to something malicious." She turned away from Draco and caught a glimpse of the man turning the corner onto a narrow alleyway.

"Come on!" Wrenching her wrist from his grasp, Hermione began walking at a brisk pace down the street after the man dressed in black.

"Granger!" Draco shouted, not caring if people heard. "Granger! Fuck!" he cursed when she didn't stop.

He had no choice but to follow her.

End Note: That's the end of this chapter, sorry for yet another cliff hanger, they're sorta my favorite thing ever. Happy Halloween everyone!