Chapter One: Lost Cause
Part 1: Potions Runner
"Maverlia" She whispers, her voice croaky from lack of water.
The man nods and lets her through, his head bowed and his back hunched. She hated being here. She hated everything about these places and the people she was forced to associate with. But, she had to. She had to keep up appearances. She stomped through the cavern, her heavy boots thudding. It was a habit now. She let her slender body fall into the wood chair and lifted her muddy boots onto the worn table.
"Well…" Her now gruff voice drawled.
"Ah! Maverlia. So pleasant to see you! What have you got for me today?" The short thick man rubbed his hands together as if waiting for a parcel for Christmas.
"The same as usual," her thin pale hand searched through her many pocket on the leather belt she wore until she found what she wanted. The man's hand eagerly made its way towards the three small glass bottles each had silver and green fog swirling eerily around in them. She moved her hand back, just quickly enough as to keep from the man.
"No Cormic. You nearly fucked me over last time. I want the money out now." She tapped her fingers impatiently against the bottles as he searched through his cloak for an envelope. When he had finally found it and handed it to her she set the bottles in the man's waiting hands and inspected the envelope.
"Are we done here?" She asked as she tucked the envelope into her own cloak pocket.
"Oh, well Maverlia, it has been quite a while, won't you stay for a drink?"
"No, I've had enough of this place already." With that she got to her feet and began walking towards the door.
"Maverlia, dear, I forgot to tell you. I've heard there has been a muggle-born uprising. Down south a bit, be careful. I don't want my best potion runner to be killed by a bunch of mudbloods."
"I here ya." She replied slamming her body through the door and into the cool night chill. Those words didn't bother her anymore. She laughed quietly to herself. If only Charles Cormic knew that his favourite potions runner was actually a mudblood. Would he shit a brick.
"And now," Hermione thought to herself, "for the real mission, where did Rumis say that safe-house would be?"
Part 2: Wanderer
Draco hated it. He hated everything about it. He watched the small doe shiver against the snowy patch of grown that he held it down in. His other hand was extended ready to use his wand. The doe's eyes grew bigger as it watched Draco's mouth grimace. To be honest, he should have been used to it by now. What had it been, three years since he left? But he couldn't do it. He let his hand fall to the side and let go of the deer, watching it slowly rise and finally prance away.
There, another day that he would go hungry. He shrugged to himself and pushed is white-blonde hair out of his eyes. Draco rummaged through his pack until he found that morning's half-eaten sandwich. This would have to do.
Quickly throwing his pack back onto his back and tucking his wand into his pocket, he munched on his cold sandwich as he walked. Night would be drawing in soon. Better to choose a site to camp before it was dark, rather than waking up in an only half concealed spot in the morning. Don't want the "Hunters" to find you. Especially him, a Death Eater deserter. Boy, would they have a field day with him. Within 30 minutes the dark had engulfed the forest, and Draco had found a spot to sleep. Pulling his coat around him, and tucking his chin down by his neck, he closed his eyes for rest.
But, it wasn't five minutes later that he heard them. Hunters. Draco pulled in his knees and kept as quiet as he could while watching them walk only a few meters by. There were three of them. The tallest, obviously the leader of the group, was pulling a smaller figure behind him.
"Shouldn't we take her to the Death-eaters, Travers?" One of the figures drawled.
"No," the leader spat back, "She is mudblood, and I can smell it. They will only kill her, let's have some fun first."
The smallest figure hissed, as the one called Travers pulled her farther until she was resting between a tree and him.
Her voice croaked "I am not a fucking mudblood! My name is Maverlia, I am a potions runner!"
"You really expect us to believe that? We saw you leave the muggle town. Why would a potions runner want to go anywhere near a muggle town?" He taunted her, pulling her black cloak a bit off her shoulder.
Draco could hear the sneer in her voice, "Call Cormic, you know, Charles Cormic? I just met him to drop off a set of potions…"
Travers, slapped her across the face, leaving her fuming. "Don't talk to me like that mudblood, I know what you are." And then began to pull at her clothing once again.
Malfoy groaned to himself, why did this always happen to him? Here he was minding his own business, when bam he either has to save a stupid mudblood or listen to a group of Hunters ravish her.
With a clear voice. "Stupefy" The leader stopped then fell, dragging the witch down with him. For a moment there was silence, then the other two hunters began shooting hex's at Draco. He ducked grabbed onto the broken figure of the girl and disapparted.
It was quiet. Draco listened unsure whether or not they had arrived at a safe place. The breathing of the mudblood girl was heavy and exaggerated.
Finally she quieted down, and seemed to regain her bearings.
Her voice whispered a gruff "thank you" and a shift of her weight told him that she was beginning to stand up.
"Don't thank me you filthy mudblood!" His voice daggers "I only did them off because I didn't want to have to hear blood traitors fucking a nasty mudblood."
There was a hesitation. "Draco?" her voice catched a hitch as if she spoke before she could stop herself.
Draco's breathing stopped for only a second, he then lifted his wand "Lumos." The face he sees, he does not instantly recognize. She looked so different. No more of that bushy hair, or soft rose coloured features. No, the person sitting in front of him wasn't anything close to what he remembered.
She looked anything but soft now. Her hair was changed, long, straight, and dark. Her eyes hollow, and dark against her pale skin. She wore bruises all along her face, probably from the three Hunters, but perhaps not. She looked thin, but strong, even powerful . She looked hard. He could see that she was also looking him over. He knew how much he had changed. Her eyes lingered on his muggle backpack and clothes.
"Granger."