Chapter Text
There was a snag in her favorite jumper, her knee was throbbing with pain, her beaded bag now sported blackened singe marks, and as if all that wasn’t enough, Hermione's portkey had slipped from her grasp and rolled under her desk with only six seconds remaining until its scheduled departure.
The cat's eye marble had vanished only a few centimeters from her outstretched fingers, which was why she was currently lying face down on her office floor, lamenting over how she’d had such rotten luck for months.
She didn’t even believe in luck, but despite her disbelief, she couldn’t deny the glaringly obvious truth that something was wrong.
Something that was causing her trouble. Like when she’d scraped her shoulder leaving the shop after buying her morning tea. Or when she’d tripped over her own shoe next to the atrium fountain.
And then there was her bag—
"You know, when most people have a lie-in, they skip the whole coming to work part. Are you alright?"
She didn't bother to pick her forehead off the floor as she answered Harry. “Not really.”
“Want to talk about—" His tone shifted from concerned to confused. "What exactly are you doing?”
She groaned. "I'm licking my wounds in peace before I have to walk out there and let everyone know I completely wasted a highly regulated magical item." The embarrassment burned, but at least the cool flooring felt nice. "If they hadn't ignored the request to fix my temperature charms again..."
Or if she could figure out why, even with her office warded and silenced, the proximity to her fellow Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures staff still left her body intolerably tense and uncoordinated…
"Feels fine to me. I tried to get here before you were set to leave, but the apothecary was behind again. Have you...erm, had time to check your extension charm?"
She had, in fact, not had time.
Not even in the twelve hours since Harry had interrupted her reparo mid-cast and somehow caused sparks to rebound right onto her bag.
"It's fine,” she assured him anyway. “Just burned off some of the beading." Which she also needed more time than she had to fix properly.
"Oh, good, Gin didn't think I apologized enough. You aren't cancelling, are you? I'd offer to take you, but...well, I don’t know if leaving her is..." He sighed. "I'm not sure I could."
A sharp pang of sympathy arced through her. Ginny was sick. It had been almost too painful to sit across from the newlywed couple at the small send-off they had organized for Hermione the previous night. Ginny didn’t allow herself to show it, other than perhaps being a bit more subdued, but her magic had weakened so much she’d stopped joining in on weekend quidditch matches for fear of not being able to control her broom.
She and Harry were dealing, but Hermione knew it was taking a toll on both of them.
And yes, she realized how ridiculous it was to question her friends’ ability to navigate their hardships while she was currently allowing a handful of mishaps to send her into an attempt to become one with the tiles of her office floor, but that was besides the point.
She only needed a break. Preferably a quiet one. Away from people.
Harry's hand appeared in her line of sight. "Alright, up you get, I'll walk you to the portkey office."
Deciding she had sufficiently wallowed in her misery, Hermione finally lifted her head. "Will you recast the wards for me? I'm not using my wand near you." She swung her damaged bag protectively behind her as she let him help her regain her feet.
Hermione wasn't blaming him. Or others. It wasn't that anyone was doing anything wrong. They weren't doing anything at all. But as she followed Harry down to the Department for Transportation, she was acutely aware of how much her proximity to other people set her teeth on edge.
It was like an imbalance of her magical energy. One no one seemed to be aware of except for her. Like everyone near her was somehow pulling at the loose threads of her power, begging for her attention and leaving her distracted and depleted and confused.
It was making her feel the slightest bit insane.
Which was why, when she'd received the exclusive invitation for the fourteen day magi-scientific field study to be conducted in a remote section of the Forbidden Forest, she'd pounced on the opportunity immediately.
And now she was set to make a terrible first impression with the group of herbologists, magizoologists, and magimycologists by showing up late. She couldn't even think of how the centaurs would react.
When they finally reached their destination, Hermione's feet stuttered in the entrance before a few wizards behind them came so close she had no choice but to file into the small office anyway.
She stiffened, physically bracing herself for an assault on her nervous system, thankful that at least most of the patrons had business not related to long distance travel.
"Ms. Granger, what are you doing here?" The man behind the counter asked. He reminded her vaguely of Slughorn and had helped her secure the marble only a few days ago. "Was there a problem with your portkey?"
"No, no." She waved him off. "The fault is my own. I'll have to trouble you for a replacement though."
"Well you see, erm..."
"Found the bloody thing." A taller man appeared from the storeroom behind the counter, sidling up to the professor-look-alike with a triumphant grin.
The man assisting her grimaced. "You see, our last portkey to the Forbidden Forest has been spoken for already.”
“Wha—? Who else would need it?” She couldn’t help voicing her surprise aloud. It wasn’t like she was trying to get to some coveted holiday locale. No one was even permitted into the forest without the approval of the centaur herd.
"Ah, well, I hope you know I would tell you if I were allowed to reveal personal information.”
“Of course,” she said, an idea forming as she spoke. "But if I wait here while you make a new one for me, it would be plausible to expect I'd cross paths with the person picking this up?”
The man grinned and leaned over the counter onto his forearm. “It will take several hours for us to create a new one. But if you did happen to notice when this is collected, I'm sure you could make an arrangement with the recipient to be able to leave much sooner."
She flashed a conspiratorial grin. “Seeing as how I am officially on holiday, it’s no trouble at all for me to wait.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder. "I'll just fly you. We don't even know who you're waiting for,” Harry said.
As if she’d ask him to leave Ginny.
"They're obviously part of the study so we'll be spending two weeks together anyway. It can't be anyone too bad. Besides, I'd sooner walk,” she shuddered at the mere thought of broom travel, then solidified her determination to follow through with the plan of magical hitchhiking. “This invitation is unprecedented, and you know the herd won't forgive my tardiness. It could jeopardize not only my trip but the integrity of the study for everyone.”
She didn’t miss Harry’s small sigh of relief as they moved towards the row of wooden chairs beside the entrance.
"You're sure?"
“Of course. I'll see you in two weeks. Tell Ginny to write in the message notebook I left. And I’d better hear from you at least once."
“I’ll do my best,” he said through a light laugh, giving her a hasty side hug. “Be careful, alright.”
“I’m studying trees with a bunch of scientists,” she deadpanned. “I don’t expect anything outlandish to happen.”
“But given our history there, it’s probably best not to take risks.”
“Believe me, I don’t intend to. Resting and recharging are on top of my to-do list. Risk-taking has been firmly crossed out.”
Harry waved as he passed through the doorway, and Hermione took a seat along the wall to wait for her unknown traveling companion. She pulled her bag into her lap to get her new book on advanced leaf identification. It took a bit of force, but she finally pried the text free.
She had only been reading for about fifteen minutes when the attendant called her over, speaking loudly enough the entire office could listen in. “I’m terribly sorry, my dear, this is the only one we have available, and actually it belongs to this gentleman right here.”
The man waved an upturned hand just as someone stepped into the space beside her. Someone tall.
Very tall.
And so close her next inhale carried the faint scent of woodsmoke and pine resin.
She tilted her head back to see who she would need to convince to allow her to share a portkey.
Her confidence flickered.
Because she was staring at a face she'd not seen in person for three years.
Her body mimicked a fawn when he peered down at her.
"Granger." The unexpectedly low timbre of the voice belonging to Draco Malfoy jolted her back to the present. "You look like you've lost a duel."
Of course he was still the same arsehole he'd always been.
"You?" she said, mentally shaking herself, unable to keep the scathing venom from her voice after processing the realization of her childhood enemy being selected for the same undertaking she’d been offered. "You're going to research the weakening mycorrhizal network in the trees of the Forbidden Forest?"
"No," he said, his disapproval obvious as he studied her with an intensity that made her feel her every flaw was on display.
She relaxed at his denial.
"I'm studying the failing Root Sprite population."
"Same thing,” she gritted, releasing an angry breath. “How did you even get invited? Don't tell me you have nothing better to spend your galleons on."
He glared, reaching over to the counter, taking the small bag containing the object they both needed and slipping it into his trouser pocket. "A personal project. One I've earned the right to pursue. Nice to see you've matured since our time at school."
The top of his nose wrinkled slightly as his brows drew together, but he'd shifted his gaze towards the wall, frowning as if he'd found something disturbing in his own words.
She had no idea what it could possibly be.
“Look,” she said, swallowing her pride at needing help from Malfoy of all people. “I…had an issue with my portkey, and, as you might have heard, there aren’t any left, so I need to hitch a ride with you.”
Malfoy stared at her as if she’d lost her proverbial marbles along with the real one she’d dropped in her office.
Without any further discussion, he thanked the attendant, angled sharply towards the exit, and then walked off, leaving Hermione staring after him in open-mouthed disbelief.
Of course she chased him, but thanks to his much longer legs and the still crowded corridor, he easily outpaced her.
She reached the lift with only enough time to watch Malfoy smirk as he disappeared from her view.
Luckily, the second lift was free and she darted into it, her nerves at their peak as she rode towards the ministry entrance in pursuit.
Hermione canvased the atrium as soon as she arrived, and as she expected, it was easy to zero in on Malfoy's bright blond hair, especially since he towered over everyone around.
She forced herself to ignore the madness of sprinting through her workplace.
Hermione caught up to him at the fountain, exactly where she'd fallen that morning. When she got near enough, she tugged on the crook of his arm, and Malfoy rounded on her so abruptly, she almost tripped again.
She ignored his glare, but she did drop her hand on reflex. "You're seriously not going to let me join you?"
Malfoy's defensive posture shifted to casual ease once more. "You know how it is, Granger. Only child. Rich. Spoiled. Trained by dark wizards. Never did learn to share."
"Malfoy, please." She hadn't at all meant to sound so pitiful, but it wasn't like she could take it back now so she might as well use it to her advantage. He made her feel absurdly small towering over her, but she held his gaze. "I'll owe you."
Something flashed across his face but she couldn't decipher the exact nature of it. "Owe me what?"
"I don't know," she rushed out, not really caring, her need to keep from ruining the opportunity for everyone if she didn’t show up on time overriding any other thought, "whatever you want."
He peered down down at her, a hint of disdain in his guarded expression. "First you insult me, and now you're offering me a favor of my choosing?" They both watched a wizard approach the fountain only for him to turn and flee in the opposite direction upon noticing Malfoy there. "Of course I couldn't be lucky enough you’d avoid me like everyone else."
"Everyone does that?" Sure, she had been a hint of a bitch to him at first. But old habits don't just die after a few years of absence, and the two of them had a complicated history. But he’d been exonerated and made his reparations for his part in the war. He’d publicly disavowed his death eater status. It didn’t mean she’d forgiven him for being a bigoted prat to her for so many years, but she wasn’t afraid of him.
She did have a right to her distrust of him though.
But most of the people milling around the ministry had probably never even met him. She glanced around, her annoyance growing with each anxious expression she took in around them.
Malfoy’s growl-like exhale brought her attention back to him. "If you go all bleeding-heart on me, I'm leaving you here."
She snapped her eyes back to his. "Wait…You’ll take me?"
In answer, he glared at her while he dug the small bag from his pocket and tipped its contents into his palm, leaving a tiny wooden star there.
Hermione only stared at his proffered hand, the shock of his decision to allow her to join him sending her body into an immobilized state.
"Twelve seconds, Granger."
Before she could think of a better option, Hermione placed her own hand into his palm, almost as if she were accepting an invitation to dance with him.
His hand was warm against hers, and despite the absurdity of the circumstances, her body slowly uncoiled in relief, anticipating the balm to her raw nerves the quiet forest was sure to provide.
Tightening his grip, Malfoy brought her hand closer, his eyes tracing the jagged pink scrapes crossing her knuckles from an unfortunate encounter in the greenhouse the week before. "What happened to yours?"
The pull of the portkey surprised her, even though she'd expected it. It was almost violent in its speed of transportation, and they landed more harshly than she'd ever experienced before, causing her to stumble forward a little.
Malfoy's firm grip stabilized her, keeping her from falling on her arse for the second time in a day.
He gritted a curse as he let go. "Your portkey. What happened to it?"
"It left without me. Because I dropped it and couldn't get to it in time."
She crossed her arms, anticipating belittlement, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut, each of them focusing instead on taking in their new surroundings.
They had landed inside a circle of giant Scots pines, their trunks wide enough she could have held her arms straight out in front of one and still would not have been able to be seen from the opposite side.
She could see the small crowd not far from them, beyond the largest break between the towering trees, so she started in the direction of the rest of their research group, hyperaware of Malfoy following close behind.
She didn't see any of the centaurs yet, but she knew from experience that didn't mean they weren't nearby, watching every move each of the guests made inside their territory.
With how she'd been feeling around others lately, Hermione paused a good distance away, not willing to brave weaving her way to the front as she normally would have.
Malfoy paused after overtaking her, turning and giving her a curious look. But his expression quickly smoothed into casual indifference. "See you around, Granger. I expect you to follow through when it's time for me to call in that favor."
"Wha—are you serious?"
He shrugged, his eyes clearly amused at her distress. "You said I could have whatever I want. I'll let you know when I'm sure of what that is."
Her mouth parted in outrage. "You can't hold it over my head this whole time. That isn't fair."
He arched a pale brow at her. “Should teach you not to make idiotic bargains in the future."
He gave her a final smirk and then swaggered to the front of the group, leaving Hermione staring slack-jawed at his back once again.
What an absolute prick.
It seemed her luck was only going to get worse.