The Symmetrical Transit (Dramione)

Seven

Day Thirty-Three; 2:03am

Hermione opened her eyes and gasped at the figure hovering over her, flipping up her blankets. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest just one second after flying out of REM, and she wasn't sure if she should try to sink through the mattress or spring into action.

There was a chuckle above her, muffled through her blanket, and it still took several seconds to register. She forgot to be embarrassed about her reaction, and yanked the blankets back down to glare at that dark shape over her bed.

"What are you doing!"

"Is that your great instinct? Your fighting strength? Now I know why... Hiding under your covers? Like a child having seen a monster move in the closet?"

"Oh, shut it. I'm tired, it's the dead of the night, you're hovering over me, and my reaction time is slow--"

"Reaction time was actually pretty quick. That blanket was up and over in a second."

She narrowed her eyes further as he began to laugh again. "Next time I'll make sure to just punch you in the face. And now you know why what?"

"Granger, we've got to go."

"What?" Because as soon as he said that, she realized she didn't want to move at all.

Her entire body protested his words. Went on strike. Laughed at his stupidity. Moving? Moving? No, not us.

"There's a train in twenty--"

"We were leaving at half past seven, I thought? It's two in the morning, Malfoy."

"Granger, get up." He lifted an arm and the lights were suddenly on to blind her. 

"Is something wrong? Did something happen?" She tried to blink through it, but it was still too much, and so she closed her eyes to get used to the redness behind them first.

"Something like that. Come on, we have no time."

Hermione was groggy and lost, but stumbled out of bed all the same. She made a short trip to the bathroom, had everything packed in a blur, and was in quite the state when she exited the door.

"What happened?"

"I just have a feeling."

"A feeling?" He didn't answer. "Malfoy, you wake me up in the middle of the night, drag me out of bed, rush me out the door, for a feeling?"

"Just keep moving."

"It's just paranoia over everything that happened with DeLoyde and such. Let's just go back to bed--"

"No," he barked out.

"Malfoy--"

"Granger, just fucking trust me, and move."

The words almost caused her to halt in her steps, despite the last part of the sentence. Just fucking trust me, just fucking trust me, just fucking trust me. And Hermione was so lost on what to think about that, that she did. She followed him out of the inn, and didn't resist when he grabbed her arm and led her through dark alleys and vandalized streets to a destination she didn't know. She just followed blindly, until they rounded a corner and she saw the train station in the distance. Malfoy still stayed close, though; still kept glancing over their shoulders, and dragging her by the arm to stay in the shadows.

She had no idea what he saw or felt, but had no doubt that it was something. So she went with it. With his instinct. Trusted him, maybe, just a little.

6:05pm

"You know what I don't get? I don't get how a car turns into a pendant."

Hermione had lay down on her seat to try and catch some sleep she had missed out on, but the sight of Malfoy sitting across from her made her think of a lot of things. Like how she really did trust him in small ways -- like feeling comfortable to pass out in front of him, and that if anyone broke through the door to kill them, he would do his best to protect them both. She trusted him in ways she hadn't even thought of as trust until he asked it of her. She went with his instinct, with his directions, with his choices, his plans. Everything.