Burning.
From the tips of his fingers to his boot clad feet, the only thing Draco could feel was a constant heat eating him alive. It spread through his chest and wrapped around his head; a constant, scorching throb.
'Run. Run Draco. Don't let them catch you.'
Those were the last words Lucius Malfoy had uttered to his son. His father's dying, silver eyes were the last thing Draco saw before he turned away from the Malfoy Manor and never looked back.
He hadn't stopped running since.
His lungs were on fire and his legs threatened to give out from under him. It could have easily been several days since Draco had given his body a proper rest. He didn't have a way to track time however, so he wasn't entirely sure.
The Blood Mark on Draco's left arm burned with malice.
'They're searching for me!' he thought. 'I can't stop until I'm sure I've lost them. More than sure!'
But not matter how far he ran he could still hear them. It may have been just a rustle in the trees; just leaves blowing in the wind. But Draco knew that they were never far behind him. He swore he could hear his mad laughter howling through woods just a few leagues behind him.
It could have been the wind. But he wasn't taking that chance. Many times Draco had almost given up fleeing. To give his legs a rest. To get more than an hour or two of sleep every night. He never of course, actually saw anyone.
He had his wand and he knew how to fight. But he also knew he was outnumbered. Or at least that was what the blanket of paranoia wrapped around his mind had forced him to believe. It was suffocating him, but fear was the only thing driving him forward.
'Get away' it said. 'And don't look back until you're home.'
Home. What was that now? Surely not Malfoy Manor, both his birth place and the final resting place of his parents. Draco didn't actually know what had become of his father.
He didn't actually see him die.
But he knew that Logan Gunn wasn't a benevolent ruler, and would show no mercy to mutiny.
It seemed like it was just yesterday that Draco was lounging; bored in the front parlor while his parents lightly entertained their guests. Draco didn't find much interesting these days. After the Great War his family had been pardoned from any sentence in Azkaban for 'aiding' the Golden Trio in taking down the Dark Lord. It also helped to have strong connections in the Ministry of Magic. But since then Draco had been forbidden from doing just about anything. Like a pampered prince he was locked up in the Manor under his mother's watch day in and out. After almost losing her son to the Dark Lord's plans she seemed determined to protect him from..well everything.
Until Logan and his followers, the Creed they were called, smashed into their house in a billow of dark smoke. There were easily fifty men, all armed with wands surrounding them.
"My friends" He drawled out, a bored look on his young face. "I give you Malfoy Manor, out new home. I claim this land, Empire of the Creed."
Yes, Draco's parents, unable to witness their son's suffering under the Death Eater's new leader any longer had gathered a few followers and had planned a revolt.
Of course, those plans had been put a halt before they could ever be put in motion.
It was his mother's fault really. Narcissa had truly thought that Logan's brother Callum could be persuaded to join their forces because he was so young.
But he had already been brainwashed by his older brother and had gone stark raving mad.
No sooner had his own mother been murdered were he, his father and their thin patch of rebels handed over to their bloodthirsty leader.
In an act of desperation, Lucius Malfoy bravely, recklessly, openly attacked Logan himself and the rebels followed suit. Soon there were hexes flying left and right, and there grew a storm of magic at Malfoy Manor. Draco realized now that his father had probably never thought he had a chance against the evil wizard, but had succeeded in creating a diversion so that his only son could escape.
Within the hour, Lucius had been struck down by Apep, Logan's giant serpent and would soon speak his last words to his son.
'Run Draco'
It had all happened so fast. In an evening, Draco had become and orphan, homeless and on the Death Eater's most wanted list.
He couldn't cry. Not yet. He wouldn't mourn the loss of his parents, until he found this new home that fear pushed him so desperately to look for.
Draco hoped he would find it soon as his eyesight was beginning to blur.
Before he had managed to get away, Draco had been hit by a strange hex of some kind that left him bleeding.
It wasn't deep enough that he would bleed out but it throbbed horribly.
His arm hadn't stopped burning since he had ran from the Manor; his home.
His home.
What was home now?
Draco had been running through thickets of bushes and trees for days so thick that he could barely see the sky. But now he was coming to a clearing and he could see the morning sun peering at him.
Draco felt like he was chasing the sun, but no matter how close it looked he would never reach it.
Hermione heaved a bucket, filled to the brim with water just along river that she had retrieved it from.
Inch by inch.
Her brown, sensible, ankle boots were by no means convenient. The soles of her shoes were smooth and she slipped on wet, round stones along the water bank. And each time she lost more and more water from the bucket. While this lightened her load, Hermione reckoned that by the time she had actually made it back to camp, her bucket would be more than half empty.
Hermione all but dropped the cumbersome bucket at her feet, not caring that more water sloshed out of the bucket and onto her boots.
She sat in her hip and ran a mental map of the forest surrounding her through her head while she rested.
The air was cold and crisp; she had to be about two hundred feet above sea level. High in the mountains the river was fresh and fast and meandered for nearly a mile before it slowed. Another half of mile downhill and the river would slope lazily into a valley. It was about midwinter and so parts of the river were frozen further slowing the water flow. Here there were high hills on either side of the river and would make a decent site for someone in hiding. About a quarter mile into the valley was where Harry, Ron and Hermione had set up camp for the time being.
They had been residing in the valley for about a month now, the longest that they had ever stayed in one place. The winter season was particularly brutal this year. There seemed to be at least six inches of snow on the ground at all times and was awful to travel in, as the grounds were always icy. So Hermione had suggested that they stay at their current hiding place until the snowfall let up enough for safe travelling. No one objected to her proposition
But everyday that they waited, they knew that Logan Creed had gained one more follower; another muggle had been attacked; and the Wizarding World was dying.
Hermione blinked hard a few times and pressed the heels of her hands into the very sockets of her eyes. She sighed.
The howling winds and biting frost in the air wasn't exactly ideal fro sleep. She usually managed about four hours or so….
Hermione cracked her knuckles audibly and bent at the waste to retrieve her water bucket. She gripped the handle firmly and heaved her bucket upwards until her arms were taught.
Slowly and awkwardly, Hermione made her way along the banks back to camp, praying she didn't slip on a wet, smooth stone.
She wasn't even sure how she gotten this far away from camp. Hermione had awoken earlier than the boys, as usual and discovered that they were low on water. Normally, she used a charm to refill it but for some reason she thought it would be nice to go for a morning hike along the river.
Hermione kept a charmed, beaded bracelet around her wrist, one of three, that would warn her whenever another human being other than Ron or Harry was nearby…
At all times; just in case…
Still she knew it was reckless to go wandering about an unmarked forest without anyone around for miles…she hoped.
One never knew when an unknown Death Eater would Apparate close by…
As if on queue Hermione's left wrist began to feel warm.
The beaded bracelet would heat up whenever another human came within fifty feet of her.
Hermione froze, and waited.
If the being got closer the beaded bracelet would heat up further. If it moved away the bracelet would began to cool. Her wrist felt fairly warm. Warm enough that Hermione had to have walked at least twenty feet within the vicinity of them!
How could she be so reckless? Was it perhaps that it was simply so cold outside that she didn't feel the bracelet's warmth until now?
Hermione's brows furrowed and she could feel her fingers losing sensation from holding the heavy bucket for so long. Slowly she crouched down to the sodden earth, releasing the bucket handle as soon as she felt the ground take it's weight.
She exhaled and rolled her shoulders back, pondering.
Her bracelet wasn't getting any warmer or cooler. It was at consistent temperature which meant that the person wasn't moving.
Was it a death eater? Hermione could suddenly feel every horrid letter spelling out 'mudblood'on her forearm. She grit her teeth and rose to her feet, unsheathing her wand from the inside pocket of her down coat.
Chin, proudly tipped forward, Hermione pushed her feet into the damp earth and marched downhill.
She pulled her sleeve to the elbow and tapped her bracelet with her wand once, muttering "Invenio!"
This would warn the boys by illuminating their bracelets and tell them that someone they didn't know was nearby and to be on their guard.
Glancing at her wrist Hermione saw that not only was her bracelet warm but it was glowing and angry red.
When green Hermione knew that the person nearby was in good health.
Red meant that the said person was in life threatening danger, most likely on the brink of death.
A Death Eater? Not likely!
Hermione sprint forward. 'They could be a magical person!" she thought. 'Someone in hiding, just like us!'
What if it was a muggle who had lost their way on a camping trip and was dying of pneumonia?
Twenty paces later Hermione gasped.
A body lay unmoving just along the river bank.
Hermione pushed wet rocks and earth behind her. Only sliding to a halt when she suddenly recognized the head of platinum blonde hair and trademark scowl, both held in place even when he was unconscious and soaked to the bone.
Draco Malfoy
Hermione swallowed and her heart hammered in her chest. For once, she wasn't sure what to do. A boiling brew of absolute hatred urged Hermione to plant her boot on the Slytherin's head and shove him into the rushing river! But no sooner had she considered drowning him did questions of why and how he got here bubble into her mind.
How and why indeed…
As Hermione pondered the possible reasons for Draco Malfoy's sudden appearance, he began to stir.
Every muscle in Hermione's body locked in place. A few moments passed before she decided he probably wouldn't move again; at least not on his own. Hermione was still a few feet away from the Death Eater but she could see that his already pale skin had become translucent. His lips were turning blue. Malfoy's body shook involuntarily and curled into itself.
Hermione realized he didn't have a lot of time. He was surely suffering from hypothermia and perhaps dehydration. Hermione scanned his body and noted that he wasn't dressed for winter weather, meaning his venture into the woods likely wasn't planned…
Interesting….
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. 'Make a decision Hermione!'
A few deep breathes later she reluctantly peeled her eyelids open, almost hoping that everything she had just seen wasn't really there….
Her hopes were slashed by Malfoy's sudden hacking cough.
'Damn it'
Chin pointed, the sensible witch wet her cracking lips and cautiously slid her boot forward. Quizzically, she called out.
"Malfoy….can you hear me?"