To a Better End

Chapter 8

May 23rd 1898

The sight of the room shook Hermione out of her current state.

The room was small. Very fucking small. The bed was also small. And the little bit of floor that was available was questionable, at best. As soon as the door closed, Hermione used the last of her reserves to throw up a silencing charm. She spun in Malfoy arms, peering up to find the prat smirking.

"Wife?"

"Well, I couldn't exactly say 'my partner in crime.'" Stop looking so fucking satisfied.

"So you chose fucking wife?"

"It's not very ladylike to speak like that at this time."

"Oh, fuck you!"

"Really, Granger, where's your sense of decorum?"

"It got lost somewhere down the aisle to becoming your bloody wife. And I suppose it's not 'Granger' anymore, is it, since we're married." Hermione placed her curled fists on her hips to refrain from punching him.

"I'll always call you Granger, Granger, even in marriage. It's endearing."

"So's this." She spat, offering him her middle finger.

When he began chuckling at her, Hermione rolled her eyes and walked over to the dresser, flinging her bag onto it. Their first order of business would be to let Theo know they had arrived safely. She penned a short message in the charmed notebook, only waiting five seconds before Theo responded. She smiled as the familiar handwriting crossed the parchment, caressing the neat penmanship with her fingertips.

Second order of business was the sleeping situation. She eyed the bed for a moment before transfiguring it wider. With the limited space, she was only able to add a few more inches.

Fucking hell.

Grabbing for the top blanket, she rolled it into a long tube, shoving it into the middle of the bed as a makeshift buffer. Stepping back to admire her work, she eyed Draco, who looked far too amused with the situation for her linking.

"Right, then. That's your side, and this is mine. Tomorrow, we'll look for better accommodations, because this," she gestured to the bed between them, "will not work long term."

"You're the boss."

Yes, I am. Don't you forget it.

*****

May 24th, 1898

The terrifying sounds of screaming woke Hermione long before the sun had risen. Her eyes shot open to the navy blue of predawn bleeding through the thin curtains. Whoever had been screaming so loudly had woken her with such a freight, she bolted up, panting and grasping for the blankets.

"Granger! Granger! You're okay. You're... fuck."

Strong arms wrapped around her, hands rubbing her back. What was happening?

"You're safe, Granger. You aren't there. You're in the Leaky. I've got you. Shh. That's right. Atta girl. Breathe for me."

The screams had stopped. She breathed in time with the rise and fall of his chest pressed against her, her heartbeat slowing. This feels nice. I could stay here for a while.

"Fuck, I wish Theo was here for you. That's right. Just breathe, Granger. That's a good job."

Hermione fell back asleep to those sweet praises, finding safety in the arms snaked around her. It was when the sunlight woke her up, and she realised what had happened and where she was, that she pushed Malfoy away in a fit of panic.