They were going so fast and so high that the ground was a blur. She refused to look. She couldn't falter.
"Don't die, Draco,” she said again as she buried her face against his back.
Her head was throbbing.
The horse kept flying, on and on.
Hour after hour.
The sensation of freefalling suddenly made Hermione's stomach flip as the Granian hit the ground at a run. Its wings were held out wide, carrying it up off the ground in long flying leaps as it slowed down.
Hermione lifted her head and stared dazedly. It was night, and only a crescent moon illuminated the sky.
The horse had landed in an open field.
She squeezed Draco's hand as the Granian cantered to a stop. “Draco… Draco, we've landed. I don't know how to find the safe house.”
She shook him gently until she felt him stir. “Draco. I think we're here.”
He lifted his head slowly.
“Nix...”
There was a pop, and a tiny and positively ancient-looking house-elf appeared.
“Master Draco, Nix did not expect you,” the elf said. Its voice was creaky with age.
Draco stared at him and finally nodded slowly. “Take the horse.”
Hermione let the reins slip from her fingers. She started to shift to dismount, but her leg in the stirrup wouldn't hold her. She started to topple off the horse.
Draco abruptly jerked from barely lucid to awake. His right hand shot out and caught her by the cloak.
“Nix!”
Hermione felt herself caught magically, and Draco's hand let go. She was levitated gently to the ground and lay in the grass, too exhausted to move. She stared up at the sky. The stars were bright and glittering overhead.
A moment later Draco brought his leg over the saddle and slid off the Granian, dropping down heavily beside the horse. He patted its neck for a moment before turning and kneeling down next to Hermione. He was as pale as the moonlight, and his expression was dazed but worried as he stared down at her. He pulled the glove off with his teeth and pressed his hand against her cheek.
She forced herself to give him a wan smile. “We did it, Draco.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, and his hand slipped down to take hers. She stood, slowly and unsteadily, and they leaned against each other as they walked forward. Draco stopped and extended his hand. There was a clicking sound, and a ray of pale candle light appeared as a door swung open.
They didn't even bother to pull their cloaks off; they just collapsed into the bed and slept. Hermione gripped his hand tightly between both of hers. Draco's chin brushed against her forehead, and she buried her face against his chest, breathing him in.
It was nearly evening the next day when she woke. Her headache was still a constant grinding pain in the back of her mind. She blinked it away, looking carefully around.
They were in a small A-frame cabin. It smelled of raw timber and was mostly unfurnished. A stove. The bed and a small table. A bright brass key hung from a hook on the wall. There were eyelet lace curtains hanging from the windows, and the sunlight streamed down over them where they lay curled up together on the bed.
There was no cold and sterile manor. No creeping sensation of dark magic in the walls and soil. No manacles. No compulsions.
They were safe. Free. Far away from the war.
She studied Draco, her heart in her throat, as she absorbed everything.
It was too good to be true. It had to be. Things in her life were never this beautiful.
She pulled a hand away from Draco in order to search the lining of her cloak for the unicorn wand. As her fingers closed around it, Draco shifted and she glanced over to find him staring at her.
She gripped the wand tightly in her hand as she looked at him.
Her pulse was racing, and she could almost hear the blood roaring in her ears. It felt as though the wrong movement or sound might break everything apart. The warmth and safety would bleed away, and once again she'd find herself as a shadow in the dark, cold manor or swallowed by the darkness under Hogwarts.
“I feel like this is going to shatter somehow,” she finally said, reaching out and brushing her fingers through his hair, trying to make herself believe that he was truly there. That the warmth and light and feeling of safety were real.
He nodded slowly. As she studied him, she could see the tension around his eyes and in the way his jaw was set.
She reached and unclasped his cloak, gently pushing it off his left shoulder so she could see his bandaged arm. “It's hurting, isn't it?”
He shook his head. “It's fine.”
Her throat tightened. She sat up quickly, and the sunlit world swam in her vision as she blinked rapidly, drawing his unicorn wand from her cloak. “Don't lie about it, I can't care for you properly if you're lying.”
She ignored her headache and pulled off her cloak and coat so that she could move her arms more easily.