The Fugitive

It was with a twisted sense of irony that Fate found Lucius Malfoy hiding from Death Eaters in the northern reaches of Matsumoto. Lord Voldemort's defeat of Harry Potter the previous year had taken place in an epic battle at Hogwart's castle. The small number of the Order who survived had been scattered throughout Britain in hiding. However, his victory had left Voldemort in a mistrustful state. With Potter and the Order of the Phoenix no longer threatening his control over the wizarding world, the Dark Lord had sensed the opportunity for betrayal by those closest to him. He had begun systematically eliminating those threats, starting at the top and working his way down. At first, Malfoy's declining prestige in his Lord's esteem had been a bitter punishment near the end of the war, but it soon provided an unexpected benefit when he had time to detect a shift in the ranks once Voldemort began to dispose subtly of Bellatrix and other senior lieutenants. Lucius could see all the signs that he and his family's lives would soon be in danger, and so he had hastily sent Narcissa and Draco away from England while he stayed behind to mask their escape and plan for his own.

He had used what few resources remained to him to slip out from under the watchful eye of Voldemort and attempt to re-unite with his family. His sources informed him that they had last been seen in a mountainous region of Japan. Matsumoto, to be specific. Unfortunately, a couple of Death Eaters had also been apprised of this information, and, thus, he found himself on the run once again.

Two loud cracks of Apparation sounded behind him, and he took off immediately through the wooded area. Spells began to fly past his head, and one managed to slice across his arm. He blindly sent a few curses behind him and ran over to his right, where there appeared to be a drop-off. If the hill were not too steep, he might be able to slide down the snow safely. Unfortunately, a hex caught his feet right as he reached the ledge. He lost his footing and his wand, and Lucius tumbled over the edge.

He landed on his back at the bottom of the large hill with the wind knocked out of him. It seemed like a lifetime before his lungs finally remembered how to work properly again, and he took in great gulps of cold air. Now that he had resolved the dilemma of breathing correctly, he was able to notice the sharp pain in his ankle that was growing greater by the second. It did not appear to be broken, but it was sprained enough that he was unable even to stand, let alone run away from the Death Eaters he was sure would find him any minute now. Just as he suspected, a dark figure emerged from around the side of the hill. He steeled himself for the curse that would surely end his life.

"See anything?" came a Russian voice from the top of the hill.

"Nothing here," replied the masked figure, as it stepped past the prone Malfoy on the ground.

Lucius quickly checked himself to confirm that he had not, in fact, turned invisible. He dared hardly to breathe as he watched the nearby Death Eater make his way back up the hill to his waiting partner. It was several minutes before Lucius allowed his body to relax. The adrenaline of the chase was dying down, and exhaustion was starting to take over his body. He wondered if he would die from hypothermia or if a wild boar would find and make a meal out of him. His last wakeful thought was that he hoped he was not conscious for either situation.

When Lucius awoke, he was aware of a heavy weight on his chest and a pressure on his ankle restricting its movement. He opened his eyes and discovered a miniature mountain of blankets piled on top of him as he lay in a small bed. Struggling to sit up under all of the covers, he surveyed his surroundings in the dim light. There was a small table within arm's reach that held a half-empty bowl of miso soup. Bookshelves lined the top half of the wall to his right, where a table with a pair of chairs held a small pot. Beyond the table was a door, next to which hung some heavy, leather bags and his tattered cloak on some hooks. Several lamps around the room provided the dusky ambience and barely made visible the small kitchenette in the opposite corner. Peeking out from behind the foot of his bed was a stool with heavy boots resting on it. As he leaned to peer around his blanket pile, he saw that the boots were connected to legs, crossed at the ankles. He gingerly slid his way out from under the blankets and sat upright in the bed, staring at the dark figure slumped awkwardly in the armchair in front of him. The lower half of the face was hidden by an oversized scarf, and a hood was pulled over the brow.

Overcome with curiosity, Lucius slowly stood up and silently hobbled over to the sleeping form. With over half of the face shrouded, he could not make out if it was a man or a woman. The body was on the smaller side, but its shape was concealed under loose, baggy robes. He leaned in closer, trying to get a better look at the face, when he felt something poking his ribs. He looked down to see the tip of a wand held firmly at his side. His head snapped up and found two dark eyes staring calmly at him.

Lucius put on his most congenial smile and raised his hands in a posture of supplication. "I do apologize. I was merely trying to ascertain the identity of the person who has provided me with such hospitable care," he murmured as he slowly backed away. The mysterious figure stood but said nothing as it regarded Lucius for a moment. Then the wand was hidden as swiftly as it had appeared, and the person walked over to the kitchenette and returned to the table with a wooden bowl. Lucius found himself being offered a bowlful of rice. He accepted it with a small nod, and the person was back at the kitchenette, heating a kettle on a little burner. As he was finishing the rice, a steaming cup of tea was placed on the small table near the bed. The figure returned to its seat in the armchair and appeared to go back to sleep.

Lucius sipped from his cup as he sat on the edge of the bed. He was surprised to discover the tea was Earl Grey. Not something he would have expected in this increasingly curious abode. He looked over at his mysterious benefactor sleeping in the chair. His or her head had drooped at an uncomfortable-looking angle.

With a warm belly full of rice and tea, Lucius began to notice fatigue creeping over his body once again. He piled half of the blankets on the foot of the bed, rested his swollen ankle on top of them, and crawled under the other half, succumbing to exhaustion once more.

When Lucius woke again, the small table contained a covered bowl and a glass of water. There was no one else in the room. He sat up and removed the lid on the bowl. More rice. As he ate in bed, he began to assess his current state. His ribs still ached from his rough landing outside. His arm had been cleaned and dressed. His tightly wrapped ankle was still sore but felt much better. He considered that twisting it in the snow probably had the benefit of minimizing the swelling, despite the threat of frostbite.

The stranger returned to the room a little later and paused when they noticed that Lucius was awake. They then proceeded to empty their bag and re-stock the kitchenette area with supplies and food. Lucius' little table was soon set with bread and some small apples and the bowl re-filled. The cloaked figure took a seat at the larger table and seemed to stare off in the distance, lost in thought.

Lucius decided now seemed an appropriate time to attempt a conversation. He brought his bowl over to the table and sat in the second chair. "Thank you. For helping me out there." His companion acted as if he had said nothing at all. "Do you…speak English?" Still no response. "Ehm. Francais?" Lucius knew no Japanese, which clearly would have been the most useful in this situation. Frustration began to build in him. Even if they shared no common tongue, surely this other person could at least acknowledge his communication attempts. He bit down his irritation, though.

Lucius studied the few features of the other person that were visible to him. Thick, black hair stuck straight out in all directions from under the hood. Eyes almost as dark as the hair reflected the dim lamps in the room. A scarf still concealed the lower half of the face, and a silly thought came to his mind that it was hiding a non-existent mouth. It would at least explain the oppressive reticence of the silent figure, he mused.

Suddenly, the individual sprang out of the chair and opened a cabinet, pulling out bandages and a few potion bottles. They brought the supplies over to the table and motioned to Lucius' injured arm. He rolled up his sleeve, and, without a word of course, the smaller person removed the dressing on his arm and applied a balm to the wound. As a new bandage was carefully wrapped around his arm, Lucius attempted to catch the eye of his caretaker, but they remained adamantly focused on their task. With a sigh, Lucius mentally resigned himself to a very, very quiet period of recovery.

Lucius was reading one of the books from the shelves when his taciturn roommate woke the next day. They sat up in the chair, dark eyes trained on the book in his hands. A book that was very much written in English. Lucius set it aside and looked hard at his companion. "So. Now that we've established that you do understand English, perhaps we can endeavor to carry on a dialogue."

The eyes stared down at the floor and seemed to think for a minute. Then, with a nod, a hand reached up to pull down the scarf. "As you wish," a soft voice replied in a familiar accent. Familiar because it matched his own.

"You're…from England?"

She nodded. "Yes." She seemed to ponder something for a moment and then followed up with, "My mother was English, and my father was Japanese. I was born and raised in London."

Lucius picked up the copy of The Hobbit that he had been reading. "You seem to have a substantial collection of Muggle literature in your possession," he said, lifting his chin to study the witch in front of him.

She glanced away, then simply said, "My mom was a Muggle. She loved reading to me when I was a child." She turned back to study his face, as if searching for something. Lucius' blank expression betrayed none of his thoughts.

"I see. And how does a witch raised in England find herself living in a tiny hut in a secluded forest in Japan, hm?" he asked, with no hint of guile in his question.

She just gave him a small smile. "If I tell you everything about me today, what would we possibly have to discuss tomorrow?"

He frowned. "A name, at least?"

"Unmei. Mei, for short."

"How does one bathe oneself in this type of place, Mei?"

"There's a natural onsen not too far from here. But you'll probably want to wait until the wound on your arm closes. It seems to be healing fairly quickly. You should be able to indulge in a thorough washing in a couple more days. Would you like some tea? I'm afraid sugar is your only additive option; I have no milk."

"That would be fine, thank you."

It had been two days since their first conversation, and Mei had discreetly avoided revealing any more details about herself. Lucius hadn't pressed for more information. He still had some time before his body would be fully recovered. In the meantime, he would observe her and find out if there were any more ways she might be able to help him.

She brought the modest tea service over to the table, and then she took out her wand. With a brief scan, she checked over his body. "Well, I'm no Healer, but your ribs seem to be much better, and your ankle looks like it is healing quite nicely." She smiled satisfactorily and set her wand on the table. She quickly checked his bandage to make sure it was still clean.

"Thank you again for helping me…" Lucius began, before he was overcome with a coughing fit. Mei rushed to the kitchenette to get him a glass of water. "And thank you once more," he smiled at her.

She nodded her head. "My pleasure. It's not every day I get guests around here," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"You mean in this bustling hub of activity? Shocking," he returned playfully.

"I have to admit…I had forgotten how nice it was to talk to another person." She stared wistfully around the tiny room.

"I imagine one would get very few visitors in a place like this."

"If by 'a place like this' you mean a remote shelter in the mountains of Matsumoto, then you imagine correctly. Very few people make their way to this area, and even fewer have found my domicile."

"I suppose I'm lucky to have come across it when I did, then."

"Yes, very fortunate. It almost makes me wonder what a wizard like you would be doing out there."

"Perhaps the wizard was being chased by some foul ruffians through the forests."

"Chased?" She raised a curious eyebrow.

"Yes. You see, there are people out there who don't like me very much."

"That sounds terrible. Why would they want to hurt you?"

"Because I'm looking for my family."

"Your family?"

"Yes. My wife and son. They were chased out of Britain, and I am trying to find them so I can protect them. I had heard they were hiding in this region of Japan. It's why I'm here."

A nervous look settled in her eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

"You haven't, by any chance, heard anything about a witch and a young wizard in the area, have you?"

"No."

"Would you be able to ask around for me?"

"No."

He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. She stared down at their hands for a moment, before pulling hers out and hiding it in her robes.

Lucius pleaded gently, "I know nothing of this country, Mei, and my ankle is still injured. I cannot find my family on my own. I am immensely grateful for what you've done for me already, but if you were able to help me search for them, I would be forever in your debt."

Conflict was clearly written on her face. She turned her head to study a spot on the wall next to her. "I'm sorry. I can't," she finally whispered, as she stood up from the table.

The delicate approach was not working on her.

Her wand still lay on the table. He swiftly stepped between it and her, backing her up against the door.

"I feel compelled to be strictly honest with you, Mei. Where I'm from, I am a very dangerous man. I always get what I want, through any means necessary."

Calm, dark eyes stared back at him. "Trying to frighten me won't work. If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it by now."

He placed his hands on the door on either side of her head and leaned in closely. "Perhaps I don't want to hurt you. Maybe I'll just use you as a warm body to satisfy my needs in this frigid winter, since you refuse to be useful in other ways. Does that frighten you? The idea that I might force myself on you?" he asked with a smile.

"How is that different from hurting me?"

"Physical force can be enough to intimidate almost anyone," he said softly. "However, most women I come across find the threat of rape to be quite terrifying. The implied intimacy and sexual nature of the act is often traumatizing to the psyche." He traced a finger along her jaw.

"I don't fear sex," she replied.

"Ah, but it's not about sex, is it? Not really. It's all about control. Having power over another person."

She looked him straight in the eye. "I don't fear power either. Nor do I fear you. Mr. Malfoy."

He reared back in shock. The leering expression on his face instantly melted away into surprise. "How do you know me?"

"Pale, blond hair and calculating, grey eyes. They would stand out even in Europe. It's especially conspicuous in this area of the world. Also, the haughty arrogance that dominates your face. The aristocratic way you carry your body. The singular, clipped drawl that only Lucius Malfoy can pull off so effectively. Your reputation really does precede you."

He stood there nonplussed. Damnation…he thought to himself. If she knew who he was, she might also know that he was a former Death Eater hiding from Voldemort. She seemed to be in hiding herself for some yet-unknown reason, but that didn't mean she might not find some possible way to use this situation to her advantage, including turning him over to the Dark Lord. Lucius couldn't take that chance. He needed to find out where her loyalties, if any, lie, so it would be best to remain on her good side.

He sat back down in his chair. "Well. I feel that I am at a disadvantage here. You seem to know all about me. Would you be amenable to telling me who you are and why you are hiding in the mountains?"

"I think not," she answered with a warm smile.

He stared at her.

"I'm going on a food run now," she said and swept out the door before he could say another word.

When she returned later that day, Lucius made it a point to ignore her for the rest of the evening. She seemed quite content at that.

A few days later, Mei returned from another errand outside and set her satchel on the table.

"I've decided to bring balance to our relationship," she announced.

"Oh?" He set down another one of her books that he had been reading. Their limited interactions had remained non-confrontational in the past few days, and they had managed to stay out of each other's way as much as was possible in the single room.

"I'd like to tell you about my little mountain hideaway."

"Pray, continue. You have my full attention."

She pulled out a large needle and some heavy, black thread from the satchel. Taking his cloak from the wall, she began stitching the holes that had been torn into the material. "When Voldemort returned to power, my father had feared for my mother's safety. We fled England, but they were still murdered by Death Eaters. I made my way to my father's homeland and decided to hide where I might not be found by anyone, Muggle or wizard. I carved a room into the side of a hill and then cast a disillusionment charm around my home, just on the small chance that some random traveler might stumble across it."

She stared off into the corner of the room. "I wasn't sure if Voldemort's ambitions went beyond Great Britain, but since you are here, I suspect his reach is more global than I thought. It seems I will have to be more cautious than usual."

She turned her attention back to his cloak.

Lucius leaned forward. "We might establish a mutually beneficial relationship. You could help me find my family, and I could keep you safe out there. My request to work together still stands."

She gave a genuine smile. "I believe that it does." She left it at that and said no more.

The following day, they sat quietly at the table together. Lucius was eating some rice and dried fish for lunch while Mei was tending to the last of the tears in his cloak.

"Why don't you use magic for that?"

Shaking the wild hair out of her eyes, she took a deep breath. "I try to use magic only when necessary. I don't want to attract…unwanted attention from certain wizards and their goons."

"Ah. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Voldemort, yes."

"You seem to use that name quite freely when you claim to be hiding from that very person."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you? 'Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.'" She stared at him pointedly.

A bothersome thought swirled in his subconscious, slowly bubbling its way to the surface. His eyes widened, as the memory of a conversation in a bookstore several years ago flashed through his mind.

The witch slowly stood up. Her dark eyes gradually changed to a much lighter shade of brown. Her bushy, black hair turned brunette and began to curl from the roots to the tips. Her complexion took on a pinkish tint, and small freckles dotted her nose and cheeks.

A thousand and one thoughts and emotions began to churn in his mind. He shut his eyes and desperately tried to focus his concentration to grasp even one articulate thought. Unsuccessful, he opened his eyes to look at her face again. "Hermione…Granger."

"Lucius Malfoy," she replied, as if casually greeting him on the street.

"But…why?"

"Care to speculate?" she answered with a smirk.

"I have a great many theories as to why we find ourselves in this present situation, but I would vastly prefer that you just tell me the actual reason yourself."

"Very well. Perhaps it is best to start at the beginning. No, wait," she paused. "I should make some tea first. Would you prefer Earl Grey or buckwheat? I thought when you first arrived you might appreciate some familiar comforts of England, but perhaps you'd like to try something more local now." She looked at him expectantly.

He waved his hand dismissively. "It does not matter."

"Soba-cha it is, then," she replied with a smile. "The flavor might take a little getting used to at first. It's quite different from the teas we usually drink back home." She set his teacup and a bowl of sugar in front of him. "I prefer it plain, but you could sweeten it, if you'd like."

Forgoing the sugar for now, he took a sip. Different was an understatement. He felt like he was drinking liquid noodles.

"Now. I promised you a story." Her face took on a searching countenance, trying to conjure distant memories. "When Harry was killed last year, we had no chance of winning the battle. Without him, there was no hope. We tried a final, desperate attempt to kill Voldemort because we knew we wouldn't get an opportunity at any other time. But as members of the Order began dying left and right, we realized it was futile. We ran, and the few survivors were forced into hiding. I don't know where even one other Order member is living right now." A shadow had fallen over her face. She shook her head, as if trying to chase away dark thoughts. "Obviously, I ended up in Japan. I've been living here, alone, ever since. That is, until one day I hear a great commotion on my roof. I'd managed to survive here with hardly anyone discovering my house, so it was a great surprise to me to hear voices very close by soon after the disturbance. Fortunately, the disillusionment charm kept this place hidden. When you fell, you must have landed within the boundaries of the spell. That's how I found you when you were unconscious outside my home. More tea?"

He found that his palate had grown accustomed to the heavy, nutty taste of the buckwheat tea, and he allowed her to refill his cup.

"Now I believe I can answer your question of, 'Why?' But first, let's swap roles for a moment, shall we? Imagine you're Hermione Granger, enemy of Voldemort, fugitive in hiding, and…Mudblood. You come across me, Lucius Malfoy, elite Death Eater and pureblood bigot, injured outside of your house. Obviously, there are only two options left for you. Save him or leave him to die. Your first instinct is to leave him. He would, of course, do no more for you. But you have been living a reclusive lifestyle with practically no human contact for almost a year. You also have a natural sense of compassion and instinct to help others. Perhaps this is the part where your imagination skills start to founder." She sipped her tea. "Now Lucius Malfoy would be far from receptive to accepting aid from and owing his life to someone else, much less a muggle-born, much much less Hermione Granger. But you're curious. So you set to work healing his injuries as best you can and keeping him warm to stave off the hypothermia. You cast an enhanced concealment charm over yourself, and you watch. You watch to see how the proud Lucius Malfoy responds to such treatment. He seems to take it pretty well. Better than you expected, at least. But you're still curious. How would Lucius Malfoy react to being saved by Hermione Granger? Not quite as well, it seems. And so, here we are." Satisfied with her tale, she leaned back in her chair.

He did nothing but glare at her.

They finished the tea in silence. Finally she stood up and took one of the bags hanging near the door.

"I need to run into town for a few supplies now. You're welcome to stay with me for as long as you wish, though I'll understand if that turns out to be not long at all." She gave him a long, curious stare as she opened the door. "Sayōnara," she said softly, before slipping outside.

It was five days later when Lucius finally admitted to himself that she was not returning. He wasn't sure if the reason was that she didn't trust him not to betray her to Voldemort, or if she simply had no desire to keep company with a Lucius Malfoy who was aware of her true identity. He honestly wasn't sure which reason he would prefer to believe either way.

He grabbed one of her bags and filled it with the few useful provisions in the kitchenette. He took one of the books off of her shelf and stared at it for a minute. The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Finally, he slipped it into the bag. After pulling his cloak over his shoulders, Lucius stepped out into the cold to resume the search for his family.

End

A/N: This one-shot is my little tribute to both Harry Potter and Japan. I'm not an expert in either, so I apologize for any details I may have gotten wrong.