Chapter 19

When the girl was safely back on solid ground in his room, Draco ended the levitation charm, on instinct placing a hand on her arm to steady her. His gesture was of little use as she proceeded to crumple unceremoniously in a heap, almost drawing him down with her.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he hissed as he crouched down, pulling her up into a sitting position. He hurriedly extinguished the lights in his room, leaving them just barely illuminated by the moonlight filtering in.

He was beyond mad.

No, she was the mad one! Flipping barking sodding mad!

He had no words to describe how stupid the stunt she'd pulled was. Really, the clichéd and over-used bedsheets escape? Couldn't she have come up with something a little more creative, and – dare he say it – safe?

He received no reply, just a shaking mess compulsively pulling, coiling, tangling bedsheets tighter around herself, as if she had just jumped into a lake of freezing water and needed the warmth.

His hands caught hers and she looked up in surprise at the opposition. She deserved no such comfort; not after setting off the wards in the Manor and making him leave his patrol without good reason.

"I'm asking you for the third time today, what did you think you were doing?" he spitefully made sure to properly and separately enunciate every word, all the while staring daggers at her.

She blinked, once, twice, then her deer-in-headlights expression turned fierce, as if she'd belatedly recognised that he was berating her. "What did you think I was doing? What did you think I would do? You trap me here in this blasted room and still dare ask? Newsflash, Malfoy, I was trying to escape! Does that shine a light on the situation?" She tried to wring her hands out of his grasp, but he held on.

"And you had to choose tonight, of all nights? Haven't you seen how many wards I'd put up in the morning?"

"Yes. And I also saw just how many you took down; which was all of them," she stared back unblinkingly at him, "You expect me to think it's safe here, in this room, after you abruptly took down the wards and left without a word?

"Are you implying that it's my fault? That I brought this upon myself? Who are you to me that you have the right to expect me to maintain the wards just for you even when I'm away on patrol?"

He knew he was at fault, though. The instigator. He should have just left her outside the Three Broomsticks. Or maybe brought her elsewhere. Anywhere but here. Then, he wouldn't be accosted with problems, questions and unwanted visitors every single day.

Then, he wouldn't be beating himself up on it. Every. Single. Day.

And he wouldn't have had to stare into those brown eyes so full of what he thought was irrational loathing.

Yes, it was no one's fault but his own. His own stupid mistake!

Frustrated, he sighed irritably, releasing her hands which flew instantly to gather the sheets around her for warmth. Or perhaps it was for protection.

For a minute, he stayed looking at her with a mixture of frustration, anger and helplessness while she refused to look at him. The poor girl was still shaking like a leaf even though she had successfully wrapped the sheets around her like a newborn.

At least she wasn't crying like one.

He didn't have all day, though. He wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place.

With a flick of his wand, the bundled up girl was levitated onto his bed; she wouldn't fit on the couch anyway, not with the mass of sheets around her. From under his desk flew a vial of calming draught, which he set on his bedside table after waving it at her.

"Calming draught," he said simply, as he set about locking the windows. "Would do both of us good if you didn't get into trouble, for a change."

It was wishful thinking, he knew, to get her to fall asleep and not question his actions. But he chose to be the bigger person and offer her temporary reprieve. He didn't like facing off with a hysterical Granger. Life was already too short.

He would have to deal with her later. He had to get back to Hogsmeade before anyone noticed his absence.

Immediately after locking his door, he walked straight into a tall figure he had failed to notice.

"Draco, aren't you supposed to be out patrolling? I know I did not teach you to slack off on your job."

"I was just checking on the wards, Father. It seems the cat I bought several days ago had stumbled out the window while I was out. I was just going back into Hogsmeade." He was lying through his teeth, but in retrospect, it wasn't entirely bullshit.

"You have a cat, Draco? I'm sure your mother would be delighted to see it," Lucius said, wearing a completely neutral expression.

"I had a cat, Father. It's fallen out the window and died. Nine lives, my foot."

And still, the neutral unconcerned expression, "I see. Looks like it's nothing I have to report to the Dark Lord about."

"Yes, Father. Please tell Mother she shouldn't worry about the wards. I am fine."

His father nodded and continued on in the direction he had previously been heading in, as if nothing had been bothering him and he was in fact just on a casual, aimless stroll.

He had the right mentality though. Assuming that the Dark Lord hadn't found out about the mechanism and asked to be included, no one other than his direct family would have sensed the Manor wards being compromised. Father and son walking in the same direction would have unnecessarily aroused suspicion.

Draco quickly headed the opposite direction to the floo-linked fireplace, hoping he didn't bump into anyone else. He suspected they wouldn't be so lenient, even if they believed in his white lie, which he suspected his father hadn't.

Fortunately for him, no one seemed to be out and about along the corridors and in the drawing room, and the patrons at the Hog's Head were just too drunk to care.

The streets were empty, which left him with the time and space to think. And think, he did. Not necessarily arriving at any feasible solutions for his problems, but think, he did.

By the time he returned, he felt much calmer, but nothing had been resolved. He still didn't know if helping Granger escape would ultimately do him harm. He still had no idea what had supposedly been happening that day that Pettigrew seemed so excited about. He still had no one he could trust; to help him make sense of things.

It was like he had been thrown into a boiling pot with a faulty, stuck lid; it was like he was in a dangerous limbo; going nowhere with nothing.

And now, he was greeted by a quiet room with a neatly-made bed, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if no one had touched the sheets. As if all was normal with the world. As if he had imagined it all.

Where in the blue blazes was Granger?

She couldn't have escaped; he would have felt a disturbance in the Manor wards, especially if it was coming from his own room. Besides, he was sure he had blocked any form of escape after that scare.

Could his father have…?

No. He was sure he had locked the door with magic. His father wasn't supposed to have a wand. Unless it was borrowed from Mother before he had come to check on the wards, which wasn't illogical to assume. Mother wouldn't want a dead husband lying on the Manor floor.

Granger wouldn't survive one second with his father! He was on a different level of crazy!

Hastily charming the lights on with a blinding flash, he removed the sheets one by one, checked under the bed, in the wardrobe, the bathroom, her couch. Nothing.

He was frantic! Rushing towards the study, he murmured the incantation for a shield charm, just in case. He was reluctant to find out what was lurking behind those sliding doors. His father could have her by the nape of her neck, waiting for him to return to accuse him of fraternising with the enemy and disgracing the Malfoy family, ending it all with Avada Kedavras, of course aimed at Granger first for maximum impact.

Or Granger could be the one in ambush, standing by, right behind those doors with a blunt steak knife just waiting to strike. He had a feeling that she had learnt from her mistake and he wouldn't be as lucky to escape unscathed.

Personally, he much preferred facing the latter. He could probably heal himself against a knife wound, not an Avada. He wasn't ready to die that night, in his father's hands. Not that it mattered for that sort of thing; if it happened, it happened. But he thought he stood a better chance against Granger. At least she could be reasoned with, sometimes. Other times, she could be agonisingly irrational.

What if she'd given up hope and…

No. Granger had more spirit than that.

Wand up and alert, he slid one side of the double doors open, stepping into the scarcely illuminated study.

What he found wasn't quite what he'd expected. There was no crouching tiger or hidden dragon, nor was there a dejected corpse poisoned by the ingestion of a random combination of potions.

There was however a girl huddled in the corner of the room, reminiscent of what he had been faced with days ago. Except this time, there was nowhere for him to run to to feign ignorance.

She was the one having a crisis. Why the hell did he have to be implicated?

Scanning the room for the presence of any other person yielded none. Which made things infinitesimally easier. It was better than nothing.

Striding more confidently into the study, he dragged out the chair behind his desk and sank into it rather ungracefully. Reaching into the bottom drawer, he got out the bottle of Ogden's along with the accompanying set of crystal glasses.

He could feel Granger's eyes on his every movement, and vaguely he wondered if they were more wary or cunning. He still couldn't figure out what her motives were. The night's escape had been poorly executed to the point where he would deem it unplanned for her standards; desperate even.

If it hadn't been that particular night, he might have carelessly attributed it to her going batty from days of 'captivity'. But it seemed too much of a coincidence. What she did and what Pettigrew said had to have a connection at some point.

He poured himself a serving of the firewhiskey.

"Fancy a drink, Granger?" Maybe she'd spill the beans if she was intoxicated.

The witch in question shook her head, "You drank from that bottle the last time."

Touché.

He shrugged, capping the bottle. He hadn't expected her to take him up on that offer in the first place. He took a sip.

"Mind telling me what happened just now, Granger? What prompted you to climb out the window and almost fall to your death if not for me?" he leaned back in his chair, looking at her casually.

"Always wanted to try flying out, I guess," she shrugged, her eyes steely.

"Oh, always with the smart retorts. That's the Granger I know."

"You don't know anything about me," her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if she was controlling her expression, and her temper.

"Maybe. Why don't you enlighten me, then?"

"And provide you with even more leverage than you already have? Why don't we make an exchange instead, Malfoy?" she paused, possibly gauging his reaction.

Exchange?

"I tell you why I went out the window, and in return, you tell me what made you put up so many wards in the day. But substance for substance, of course. It'll be a win-win solution to our… trust issues."

Wasn't he supposed to be getting information out of her? How was she demanding the same from him? She shouldn't have such jurisdiction in the first place.

Even if he wanted to do the exchange, what could he say though? That he'd heard something was happening but didn't know what, so he'd acted the chicken and played it safe, consequently impeding her escape plans? She would laugh in his face at best. More likely though, she would take revenge and put him out of his miserable existence.

Apparently, he had hesitated for too long, for she got up from her corner and dusted herself off.

"Wait!" he called out hastily, internally relieved when her movements halted, "I'll take you up on your offer."

"Maybe you'd like to start first. I can't have you thinking up excuses while I'm fulfilling my part of the bargain."

He looked intently at her, sizing her up. She didn't look nervous, wasn't fidgeting. Impatient, maybe. But it didn't look like she was going to rip him off after he told his tale.

He cleared his throat, making sure full attention was on him, because he wasn't sure he could repeat the story in the exact same way again, if she asked. "Someone said something about there being a meeting today in the afternoon. That there would be an influx of the Dark Lord's followers in the Manor. I didn't want anyone stumbling into the room by mistake, or on purpose."

"And you weren't invited because…"

"Apparently one Malfoy is more than enough, and I'm currently not him." He had to bank on her ignorance of Death Eater politics, or politics in general. She had never been much of a people person, had never seemed to care, for that matter.

She nodded as if it made sense, obviously having no idea how egotistical the Dark Lord was. No one was excluded from a meeting when the Dark Lord was present.

He suppressed the smirk creeping onto his face. There was time to pat himself on the back later, when she couldn't see it.

"What's your story then?" he probed with renewed confidence.

"Harry, Ron and I agreed that if we ever were to get separated, we'd meet back at the last place we'd been together after exactly five days, on the dot. I couldn't miss the chance, so I did what I thought was viable. Now that I've missed the chance, I don't know when or if we'll ever meet again."

"There's no backup plan; a second chance to meet if this one failed?" his eyebrow raised questioningly.

"We thought it would be dangerous to come out of hiding too often, so it never took root," she never batted an eyelid.

So that was what was going on that day. Weasley was planning on meeting up with Potter and Granger, and presumably had at least Pettigrew tagging along. From the looks of things, the meeting hadn't resulted in the capture of Potter; the sky was clear that night.

If it had been the only chance they had, why hadn't they gotten more reinforcement? Weasley couldn't be that stupid that he'd squander away the chance to prove his usefulness to the Dark Lord.

Had they perhaps managed to pull off a reverse ambush and captured Pettigrew and whoever had been in on the plan? Had that been the plan all along?

The question remained unanswered: had Weasley somehow bluffed his way into being a Death Eater?

"Not that it matters anymore, but why did you mess with my escape plans?" her voice piped up amidst his thoughts.

"I felt that the map wouldn't be useful with the presence of so many of His followers in the Manor. How would we even make it through one corridor? I thought you'd figure out from the hints I've been trying to drop you the whole of today; that you'd think up a better plan. Turns out you didn't."

"Turns out I didn't. You could have told me though," her brows furrowed.

"I could have. But I didn't think you'd trust me if I said it outright. And for your information, I don't think meeting in the exact same place you've been ambushed five days ago would have been a good idea."

He met her studying gaze and took another sip of his drink.

"I know," she mumbled, turning away, "I'm going to bed."

He wondered if she was at all convinced by his excuse. He felt it was a justifiable lie; from what she'd told him, she and Weasley might still be on the same side after all. Was she perhaps supposed to drag him to the rendezvous point where they would have proceeded to capture, interrogate and kill? He wasn't that high up the ranks to deal a significant blow to the Dark Lord's army, but he had been a thorn in their flesh for the last six years. It wouldn't seem too far-fetched of a plan.

Then she wouldn't have tried to escape alone, would she?

She wouldn't have sacrificed her wand just to set him up, right? He hadn't even gotten to her that badly in school; she always got back at him. And afterwards, she was still that swotty bookworm acing all her assignments and tests.

Vexing. Really vexing. He was supposed to be having the upper hand over here. Yet, he didn't know anything for certain!

Couldn't he just relax, let his guard down, without having to make back-up plans for once?

He glared at the back of the couch Granger occupied. He viciously hoped that she was staring up at the ceiling, afraid to fall asleep.

But why would she? Nothing he had said should have caused her any alarm. He'd explained his strange behaviour. As far as he knew, he hadn't left any gaps. Also, he hadn't implied a connection to her friends so that she wouldn't be concerned.

Then again, she was Hermione Granger.

He had never once been able to correctly read her, much less predict her actions.

Maybe she indeed was fast asleep that very moment.

Which would just be unfair.

He downed the firewhiskey and stood. He had to know. He would wake her up if she was asleep, was what he'd do. To show her that he held power over her. To reassure himself that he was still in charge. Of her and of his sanity.

Sauntering past the sitting area on his way to the bathroom, he faux-casually glanced in her direction, unintentionally meeting her eyes.

Yes, she was jittery about the situation. No, getting caught for keeping tabs on her was not awkward, at all.

He continued walking, forcing his footsteps to remain light. Just five yards more…

There. He slammed the bathroom door close behind him. What the hell was with him? He could have just left well alone! Now she probably thought he was checking up on her or plotting her demise for when she slept! He hoped she thought the latter! No, he didn't. Her murdering him in his sleep because of a misunderstanding was too silly a reason to die!

He hoped she just dismissed it as a coincidental and off the cuff, careless glance because she was an oddity against the backdrop of his room. Yes, that was it. If she confronted him about it later, it was just her imagination that it was anything more than an accident.

The back of his head connected with the bathroom door in an audible thud and he winced, slightly in pain but more in shame.

A/N: That last part was so silly. I hope it wasn't too over the top for this story.

There's an issue I'm concerned about. Do let me know if it bothers you as well. I'm updating so slowly that I'm always afraid that you guys forget the details from the previous chapters. It's understandable, really (I forget details from the previous chapters :\ ). It's not a promise to update more frequently (sorry!), but I just wanted to sort of gauge how much I should jog your memories about certain things in the chapters.

As usual, thanks for reading and sticking with me! Feedback is welcome!

Side note, anyone miss Voldy? ;D