The boy in the hammock

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

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Draco was pacing the short length of the cave, officially worried out of his mind.

She's been gone for three hours. What the hell is she doing... Hunting for manticores?

He flinched at the thought.

While Hermione wouldn't purposefully put herself in danger, she had been upset when she left, and might not have been as aware as usual when looking for food. That kind of distraction could be deadly when the entire wizarding world was searching for you. Her defenses were down. Could she have gotten hurt? Even worse... Had she been found by Death Eaters? Her usual walks in the woods had only ever taken her an hour, at absolute maximum, because she never wanted him to be alone for too long. Three hours was entirely out of character for her, even if she was feeling vengeful.

He could feel the uneasiness grate on his mind like a sunburn – Something is wrong. Something is wrong, and she's out there.

Competing thoughts taunted him.

And why do you care?

A growl rumbled in his chest as he continued to pace, frantically running his hands through his shaggy hair.

I'm wandless and alone. That's why I care.

Even then, it felt like an excuse.

Are you sure that's the only reason?

He fumed at his train of thought. This was not the time to delve into some murky emotional realm, it was the time for action. She was missing. She was fucking missing.

He longed for the familiar comfort of his wand now more than ever. Feeling helpless and being dependent on a Muggle-born witch were two things Draco Malfoy did not tolerate... Not that he had a choice. Hermione had been sensitive to his handicap, always making sure he had what he needed without having to ask, but not with enough trust to lend her wand to him.

Can't exactly blame her.

It was pointless to deny it. He'd had this coming to him for years – if it wasn't so tragic, it would be funny. Of course he would end up owing his life to the person he had tormented the most. He had built up such colossal distrust between them that it was a miracle she hadn't left him to bleed his life out after she saw his face. She would certainly have been justified.

But she didn't. She's the sodding Gryffindor Princess, after all.

And even that wasn't fair, he knew. As easy as it was for Draco to fall back on his favourite House stereotypes, and as much as Hermione was Gryffindor to the core, there was more to it than that.

She was, quite simply, a good person. Kindness and intelligence were two virtues he appreciated now that he was trapped in a cave with someone who had both attributes. There weren't many people he could tolerate in such a strange, claustrophobic situation. It was hilarious - yes, painfully hilarious - that Granger happened to be the one to teach him this. Making sure he was fed, checking his injuries, scavenging for food to give him time to bathe - it was like she actually gave a shit that he was doing okay.

Nobody gave a shit about Draco Malfoy. He wasn't convinced his parents could tolerate him, let alone care in any meaningful way.

That, and she was a mean Healer. Not many witches could bring him back from the brink without formal training and a bag full of random healing supplies. If anyone could do it, Hermione could. The rabid jealousy he always felt in school over her talents was being replaced by grudging respect. He often found himself running his fingers along the lettering of the scar on his chest, in awe that he was still alive.