bigger than us [dramione]

five

DRACO HAD NO idea why he had decided to continue following Granger around like a lost puppy through the woods.

He rationalised his decision by assuring himself that he had no wand and was completely unaware of his surroundings, therefore remaining by her side would be the safest option. However, deep down he knew that, if he really wanted to, he could have made his own way toward a village of some sort and figured everything out from there, wand or no wand. Yet here he was, trailing begrudgingly after a frustrated Hermione Granger, watching as her feet stamped down into the forest floor, smacking against leaves and sticks alike.

Draco allowed his feet to drag noisily against the ground, scraping along in a manner that he knew irritated Granger from the glares she threw back over her shoulder every few minutes. He relished in the feeling annoying her gave him, however — just as it had done back at Hogwarts, that small twitch that crossed her face as she was ignited by frustration and anger, that flare that sparked across her features as she let it consume her, the explosion of allowing it to burst out, stirred something great within him. It served as almost a distraction from everything that had gone wrong in his life; allowed him a moment of silence to breathe, to think about something other than just how he had managed to land himself in all of this mess.

Still, she was too angry now. Regardless of how many times Draco dragged his feet along the ground, scraped or stumbled or created as much noise as is possible with one's feet alone, Granger would do nothing more than glare. He knew that he had upset her with his reference to Potter and the Weasel, but he simply couldn't help himself. He found it increasingly bizarre that they had allowed her to run off all alone, even if they were being attacked. After all this time flanking her like bodyguards, why had they suddenly abandoned their post? Allowed her to be captured? Would they come looking for her? What was her plan? More importantly: what had the three of them been doing for the past year and a half?

All these questions burned at Draco's mind, itching to be asked and answered, but he knew now was not the time to erect even a hint at one from Granger. So, he continued following her blindly, trudging along in the forest.

•

An hour later, as the sunlight began to fade into a soft pink hue over the sky, the pair entered a clearing in the forest. The trees opened up to a small circle where sunlight streamed in, like curtains allowing a sliver of brightness into an otherwise dark room, and the forest floor appeared flatter and softer. It was a small area, yet cosy all the same.

Granger stopped walking so abruptly that Draco almost ran right into her back. Thankfully, he caught himself and, with a slight wobble, managed to side-step her rigid body. When he looked over at her face, wild brown hair sticking out in all directions, he noticed that the curl of her lip and furrow of her brow that had been present since they left the first campsite still remained. She was still upset over what he had said. But why? The Granger he knew hardly took any insult he spat to heart.

Without a word, she stepped into the clearing and pulled the tent from her bag. She moved backward, almost as if to hand the tent to Draco to set up, though halfway through the action seemed to remember that he had no wand, and instead set it on the ground and pointed her wand at it silently. The tent popped up instantly, forming itself into a neat triangle as it had in their previous location. Granger turned away from it then, raising both hands and murmuring incantations as she walked around the clearing, setting up an intricate set of wards that Draco hoped would keep unwanted Snatchers out.

He ducked under the tent flap and let himself inside, pleased to see the wooden table and two cots already set up. It had been a painfully long, horribly tiresome day. Walking for hours with Granger was already awful enough, but doing so in complete silence with nothing but the occasional glare cast his way was somehow even worse. Draco had found himself missing the sound of her high-pitched, annoying voice — it was far more preferable to silence, that much was certain. He hoped that she might forgive him tomorrow.