Serpent in the Lion's Den

4. Bridges

Since their collision that morning the pair had stayed clear of one another without a singular word spoken between them. This worked perfectly for both wizards, until the sky overhead started to darken into deep oranges and purples as the sun set. Hermione was sat outside the tent, warming herself next to a small campfire rather than using a warming charm to remind her of the times she would spend here with her parents, a smile grew on her face but disappeared faster than it grew as a sullen Malfoy exited the tent and sat opposite her on the floor. He stared at her as though waiting for her to leave or say something. She chose the latter,

"Is there something I can do for you Malfoy" she asked, trying to make her tone acidic but she was caught off-guard as through the flicker of flames his features softened and he no longer resembled the same boy she had despised for six years. His sarcastic tone cut through the air

"well Granger I didn't exactly pack a bag for this little holiday so I don't have any food and I haven't eaten in over 24 hours." She sighed and flicked her wand towards her bag "There's another bag in there and it has a bunch of ingredients as well as utensils, help yourself Malfoy."

The lack of movement confused her until she looked back up at the wizard to see him staring at the fire and shuffling his feet in acute embarrassment.

"You don't know how to cook, do you?" Hermione asked, shock making her sound more mocking than she had originally intended. His eyes flashed with anger as he glared at her, before smoothing down his clothes and leaning back with an extravagant air

"No, I don't Granger, you see, I've always had house-elves prepare my meals, I've never dealt with anything so common or muggle-like as to cook my own food."

To prevent another inevitable argument happening between the pair Hermione decided to swallow her pride and switch to a different tactic than the one she used for the last six years

"Well, would you like me to teach you?" she stood up to get the ingredients for a simple meal she thought he'd be able to remember but before she could reach the bag, the wizard darted forward and grabbed it first, his knuckles turning white around the strap. He stepped toward her in a similar manner to the previous night

"I would rather starve then eat anything made by your mudblood hands" his voice dropped to a whisper as he hissed the last two words before shoving the bag against her chest and slithering back into the tent.

Draco's stomach rumbled with hunger after his fight with Granger and, if he was being honest with himself, he could admit that hadn't meant to get so angry, but it was the sympathetic look in her eyes, the kindness in her voice and the bridge of mutual tolerance she was extending. It reminded him of how he would see her talk to Invincible Potter and his ginger tumour and it made him sick to think that someone he despised and hurt so frequently still managed to be kind and feel sorry for him. Curse her Gryffindor-ness.

Not only that but the mudblood herself made him boil with rage for reasons he didn't know or didn't care to admit. After all, she was a muggleborn, he was a pureblood, they were conditioned to hate one another so he couldn't understand why the feeling of hate for Granger wasn't the same as the hate he felt for everyone else. All he did know was that thinking about it made his head ache and his mark burn profusely.

XXX

A warm, meaty smell made his stomach growl from starvation and the small clink of wood on the floor followed by brisk, light footsteps and the closing of the tent flap spiked his curiosity. He cautiously pulled back his curtain to find a bowl of steaming stew waiting for him. He ate it in silence and left the empty bowl outside the curtain, it was gone the next morning and had been replaced with porridge topped with slices of green apple.

And that's how the following three days happened, no interaction, no talking, just three meals a day delivered like clockwork to the outside of his curtain, he'd wait for the now familiar sound of Granger's soft light footsteps and the gentle swish of the closing tent flap before he would venture out to get his food.

On the fourth day when his breakfast was forty minutes late the wizard decided to chance going outside into the Gryffindor's company. He was surprised when he found the witch removing any trace of their presence in the patch of woodland and placing bowls and the stove back into her charmed bag. The witch let out a startled yelp when she turned to find him stood staring at her with concealed concern as he took in how she had changed since he last saw her almost four days ago. Her eyes were puffy, the bags under her eyes looked bruised and she had a sheet of parchment crumpled in her fist. When she spoke, her voice come out thick, as though she had a cold,

"we've been here too long, we need to move on today, preferably now so we can make some distance from here before nightfall." She paused and looked up at the wizard through her thick eyelashes, "Dumbledore didn't tell me where to take you so I guess I'm just to take you wherever you chose is safest for you, where do you want to go?"

This question stumped him, where did he want to go? He didn't feel welcome or safe anywhere so he couldn't exactly judge his next location off of the witch's request, instead he said the only place he knew that wasn't Hogwarts.

"Take me to Malfoy Manor."