Manacled

Hermione felt as though she’d been struck sharply in the head; as though she were mildly concussed and it explained the surreal world she abruptly found herself in. She stared wordlessly at Angelina, who gave Hermione an encouraging smile. “You aren’t out there so you probably don’t see it. I know things were dark for awhile, but it’s always darkest before the dawn, and I’m pretty sure, we’re at dawn now.”

Hermione swallowed hard as she struggled against the temptation to scream. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears and a migraine rapidly manifesting.

They weren’t winning.

They were surviving.

“For the record, you are not allowed to sell them or give them to anyone else.”

Hermione’s hands stilled, and her eyes darted guiltily up to Draco’s face. His eyes were locked on hers, and the silver in them glittered.

“Is that clear, Granger?” His tone was ice.

She gave a begrudging nod.

“I will expect you to wear them every time you forage. I will look for them.”

She tensed and swallowed hard with irritation. “Fine.”

His expression softened marginally. “Well, this has been delightful. I cannot even remember how many times I’ve wished I could spend Christmas Eve getting lectured on how to read a diagnostic charm.” He smiled insincerely. Hermione said nothing.

The next week when Draco apparated into the shack, he and Hermione both paused and stared at each other.

“I have a Christmas present for you,” she said after a minute. “Well, it’s not really. But I suppose contextually it is.”

She pulled out the small leather case and held it out to him.

“It’s—it’s an emergency healing kit. I give them to all my friends.”

The Christmas presents she’d planned that year were rather sad. She’d made emergency healing kits. Again. She made them every year. The basics, all packed together and shrunk down to be easily carried.

Hermione snorted and turned herself so that they were closer to each other once again. Draco’s eyes widened for a moment before he stifled his surprise. Hermione closed the space between them and stared up at him.

“Is that why you hated me in school, Draco, because I was going to steal your job?”

She prepared to leave but looked back at Draco when she was at the door. He was leaning against the wall, his eyes darted away from her as she turned.

“Don’t die, Draco.”

He stared at her for a moment before smiling.

“Only because you asked, Granger.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

He was still leaning against the wall when she closed the door behind her.

“I don’t see how you’ll win with the continued policy against using the Dark Arts. Then again, Potter is an idiot who is still alive. He has the most unnatural talent for survival I’ve ever seen; power too, if he were willing to actually use it.

“The Dark Lord is growing frustrated with all the rescues. He has Sussex working on something to prevent it.

Draco Rich Wanker Malfoy probably didn’t even know how much a pair of dragonhide boots cost.

“They work,” she said in a tight voice. “That’s all I care about.

“Are you trying to break my leg? Why are you wearing combat boots?” she said in a furious voice.

Malfoy glanced over sharply and caught sight of her leg. His expression wavered for a split second before he regained his mask of indifference. “I didn’t expect you to be this clumsy,” he said.