Parade of the Sun - Dramione

PART SEVENTEEN.

July 8; 9:18am

Malfoy was a tapper. She didn't know what he was tapping out, if anything at all, but she caught him constantly tapping his fingers against himself when they walked. Sometimes it looked like he was playing the piano or putting it to the beat of music, but other times it just followed some schedule of time. She would watch to see if she recognized the beat, but a few times she thought of wrapping his fingers up tight so he would just stop already.

It wasn't like she could hear it, but it was the motion that got to her. Especially when her steps were on time with his. The crunch of their step, the up-and-down of their bodies, the tap of his finger, the jumble of her bag -- and then it repeated itself. Over, and over, and over again. At times she just wanted to break into a run to break the mind-numbing routine

She could ramble out loud for an hour without him saying a word in response - she knew he must have some sort of thoughts going on in his head, and she didn't understand why he couldn't share them. Very rarely had he ever started a conversation himself. She tried to bring up interesting things, which he replied to half the time, or if she really felt the cabin fever inside her own mind, she would pick fights. After a day of silence, she had called him a robot with no opinions last night, which had turned into ten minutes of yelling that felt good until it got bad. I'm not trying to be your friend. I don't want to be your friend, he had told her, and just snorted when she told him that wasn't what she was trying to do. They had glared at one another until they fell asleep.

She couldn't help but be a little offended. She didn't see him as a friend, but he was... She didn't know what he was. She didn't even know if there was a definition for their current...partnership. Both of them had saved the other's life, more than once. She was starting to adjust to having him around her, and sometimes it wasn't even that bad of a thing. Sometimes, somehow, it was actually sort of...all right. Maybe that didn't make them friends, but she wouldn't call them enemies anymore. He certainly didn't have to tell her that he didn't want to be friends, like a child.

She sped up until she passed him, not wanting to see his tapping fingers anymore because she would be forced to scream from monotony.

July 9; 5:01pm

Hermione felt gross - like everything was blending together into one murky puddle of disgusting things, and she couldn't escape from the middle of it all. She had gone too long without washing, and the only thing that had helped get the dirt off her skin was the amount of sweat she had worked up over the hot day. Her hair felt greasy and weighed down, her skin was dirty and sticky, she smelt bad, and her mouth tasted disgusting. Her meals consisted of berries, her stomach cramped regularly from lack of nutrition, and she had to wait until she was practically coughing dust to have a sip of water.

She was losing energy from the strenuous walking and the lack of vitamins, her body weak and feeling displaced. In her head, she could imagine her bones shrinking inside until they moved oddly on the joints. She didn't even have the energy to bury the fur from the squirrel Malfoy had caught half an hour ago, her once-calm stomach revolting at the sight of it. Her clothes were filthy, she was filthy, and despite that she would be eating meat in a few minutes, there was way too much blood sizzling at the bottom of the tin. Some days she felt like a survivor in the wilderness, but there were weak moments - like now - where she just wanted to curl up and sleep until everything was better.

"I found some mint leaves."

She raised her head from where it was buried in her arms, folded over her knees, and gave a tired smile. "Like an after dinner mint."

She didn't think of the herbal properties until after she'd already said it. Malfoy looked at her like she was a fluffy animal he didn't know the purpose of. "Sure."