wildflowers // dramione

Chapter 11

Draco's knees hit the damp ground. Hermione tumbled down and landed on her side, hitting her bruised shoulder against the dead, yellow grass. Hermione yelped at the contact. The leather duffel bags around her body weighed her down causing her shoulder to dig into the dirt and because their fingers were still intertwined, Draco's body was pulled towards Hermione's as she fell to the ground. He fought the pull and instead yanked the witch off the floor and onto her knees, matching his position. He tore one of the duffle bags off her shoulder and placed it on his own. Both were still silent, though their breathing was now loud and heavy unlike how it had been when they were hiding from the man who discovered them. Hermione tried to grab her aching shoulder, but her hand was not free and was instead attached to her captor. Draco held Hermione's hand firmly, not letting her reach for her injury. He stood quickly, dragging his hostage to her feet. Hermione tripped over herself as she tried to keep up with Malfoy's movements.

"Draco! Stop!" Hermione tugged on their interlaced hands.

Draco said nothing and continued speed walking. Hermione then looked up and saw where he was headed to in such a rush. The pair had successfully apparated to their second location. They had appeared a few yards away from a good-sized, though also old and worn down, house. Hermione examined the building through weak eyes due to the bright sunlight. She was too disoriented to remember that this was the first she had seen real daylight for almost two weeks. They were in the middle of, what looked to be, a field that contained a few houses and a one-lane road far behind them. Hermione had no idea where she and her blonde companion were, but Draco did. He knew they were in the countryside of Shropshire, England. As they got closer and closer to the house, Draco moved faster and continued to drag a weak Hermione behind him.

The house in front of them stood tall, obviously two stories and maybe even three, and was made entirely of old, grey wood. It resembled the shrieking shack in some ways, though only in better condition and more detailed. The house had a porch and a crooked front door. It had cracked windows and from the outside you could see the black curtains sway on the other side of the glass.

Once at the steps to the front porch, Draco stopped. His breathing was heavy and his palm sweat onto Hermione's. Hermione was finally beginning to grasp her new surroundings. Draco turned his head to look at Hermione. He stared at her silently and waited for her to match his eye contact. When she stopped scanning their new quarters, she met his gray eyes and familiar feelings from their last mutual gaze rushed through the wizards. Memories of only minutes ago, when the pair stood pressed up against Draco's bedroom wall and hid from their unwanted visitor, reminded Draco and Hermione of their intense moment just before apparating. Suddenly, Draco remembered lacing his fingers with Hermione's. His body warmed with embarrassment and he ripped his hand from Hermione's. Once the secretly comforting coldness of Draco's skin left hers, Hermione remembered the seconds before leaving. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she brought her hand to her side. Draco, though still recovering from the awkward hand-holding, remembered his duties and grabbed Hermione's hand back. He did not connect them. Instead, he held her wrist tightly and began to pull her up the stairs of the porch and inside the house.

Hermione followed Draco up the stairs and into the house. As soon as the two stepped inside, a startling breeze of freezing air hit them. Draco's grip on Hermione's wrist strengthened and they proceeded cautiously further into the house. A feeling of discomfort arose in both wizards and Draco pulled his wand from his pocket. He cast a Lumos spell even though the windows of the house let a fair amount of light in. After they were in a suitable spot of the house, Hermione and Draco began to relax. Hermione dropped her bag from her arm, automatically feeling relief as the duffle's weight lifted off her injured shoulder. Draco looked at Hermione from the corner of his eye and went through the same mental debate with himself he had when they entered the first house, whether or not he could trust Granger enough for him to let go of her. He came to the same conclusion as before and released Hermione's wrist. She nodded to him and rubbed the place where his hand had last been. The lingering heat from his usually cool skin sent a shudder through her. Draco walked towards the dining room table a few feet in front of him. Before he could set his bag on the tabletop, his attention was caught by the frayed, black envelope lying where he had planned to place his bag. Dropping his bag to the floor, he picked up and examined the envelope. He saw no name, address, stamp, or marking of any sort anywhere on it. With precaution and growing curiosity, Draco neatly opened the envelope, revealing a small piece of paper. The paper looked to have been torn in one corner, but overall the note itself was almost flawless, having no wrinkles or smudges and perfect calligraphy written across it. Draco read the note.