Hermione hugged her knees tighter and sniffled. Her campfire crackled obliviously while she tried not to start bawling again. She'd cried more than enough over Ron's infidelity. In the back of her mind, she'd known he was unfaithful but to receive his owl at work and find the flat empty of his belongings? He was positively heartless.
She glanced at her sleeping bag, feeling exhausted but uninterested in sleep. She hadn't wanted to be in the flat and she hadn't wanted to be around anyone, so she'd packed up her old camping gear and Disapparated into the night.
"I'm better off without him," she muttered at the mutinous ball of fur that was Crookshanks.
Silence fell and Hermione glanced up at the sky. There were no stars – clouds were rolling in. The fire popped and crackled happily on whatever it had found to devour. A loud crack sounded and Hermione sat up. That hadn't come from the fire – it had sounded like Apparition. She dug past the blanket draped over her shoulders into her robe to wrestle out her wand.
Apart from the fire, Hermione could hear nothing. It was possible she'd imagined the sound; she was fatigued, after all. Crookshanks hadn't so much as twitched a whisker. She relaxed again, soothed by a soft hiss as the fire met resistance in the form of sap and sputtered around it.
A thud and snapping twigs made Hermione leap nearly out of her skin. She slowly got to her feet, leveling her wand in the direction of the sounds. Still, Crookshanks didn't move. It dawned on Hermione that she might be overreacting to a raccoon; the firelight didn't reach far into the trees.
Suddenly, a shape lurched into view to lean heavily against a tree. The figure had uniquely identifying hair.
Hermione blinked, astounded to see Lucius Malfoy in the Forest of Dean.
"Merlin in knickers. Is that Ms. Granger?" he said in a strained voice.
He breathed heavily and clutched his right side. He seemed unable to turn his head.
"Mr. Malfoy? What the blazes are you doing here?" Hermione asked, lowering her wand but uncertain she should go near the wizard. Just his odd stature was enough to fill her with caution.
Lucius repositioned himself heavily against the tree and wiped a gloved hand across his forehead. He was holding his wand.
"I remembered you mentioning the place. I thought I'd inspect it for property values."
Hermione ignored the man's comment. He was, obviously, being sarcastic. Something was very wrong. Lucius Malfoy had appeared out of nowhere and stumbled across her camp. He was wearing armored robes she hadn't seen since his Death Eater days and he – was he injured?
"Mr. Malfoy, are you hurt?"
His eyes closed and he bent stiffly at the waist, clutching his right side with both hands.
"I was attacked," he panted.
All suspicion evaporated and Hermione hurried to assist him from the tree into the firelight. She managed to wedge herself under his left arm to take some of his weight.
"Who attacked you?" Hermione asked.
"No idea," Lucius cringed as Hermione helped him sit down on her sleeping bag. "I fell asleep in my robes and woke up in pain."
"Lie down and let me have a look," she ordered. She didn't believe his story for a second. What reason did he have to wear those old robes?
"How fortuitous that you're here. I just Disapparated to somewhere no one would think to look for me," he chuckled, cringing as he lay down.
Hermione thought Lucius must be losing a lot of blood to laugh at such a time. She'd get the truth out of him later. In the meantime, she needed to staunch his bleeding. It was a good thing she had taken a basic healing course at the hospital.
"Don't take me anywhere," he hissed, grasping Hermione's hand.
She nodded to ease Lucius' mind; he was definitely running from something.
His eyes closed. She noticed that there was a spell wound across his right cheek that grazed the corner of his mouth. Hermione wasn't sure she could mend it without leaving a scar; she was no Healer.
After a stabilizing breath, Hermione moved Lucius' limp arm away from his side.
"Why didn't you go to the hospital?" Hermione groaned.
Singed robes were stuck to a messy gash. Hermione sat back on her heels, wondering if she was going to be able to help at all. Lucius was unconscious; she'd just have to do what she could.
After thirty minutes and several hasty charms, Lucius' fever was broken and he seemed to be resting peacefully. Clean bandages transfigured from strips of the wizard's robe covered the knitting skin on his side. Hermione had done what she could with the wound on his face but he would, indeed, have a scar.
She examined the sleeping man, wondering if he'd come to find her specifically. And if he had, how had he known where she was?
Was it possible he'd heard that Ron had left her?
Even if he had, what had happened to him?
Hermione decided to wake him up. Lucius Malfoy owed her an explanation.
She no more than touched his shoulder than she found herself holding up empty hands under the point of his wand. Lucius ground his teeth and fell back onto the sleeping bag with a hiss of pain.
"Tell me what happened, Mr. Malfoy," she said.
Lucius didn't speak until his breathing became regular and unlabored.
"After the Dark Lord's demise, the value of the Malfoy name, well, it had none," he said in a gravelly voice.
"It got to the point that we couldn't show our faces in public."
"Yes, I heard about that, Mr. Malfoy. Were you set-on in public?"
"No, no. May I continue?" he frowned.
"You ought to go to the hospital," Hermione said.
"I'm at death's door. Humor me. Surely you can postpone your social engagements for the evening," he said with a wicked sort of grin that made Hermione's insides quiver.
He was not anywhere near death's door. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright."
"Then, Narcissa committed suicide. The manor became a circus. Wizards and witches gathered around my home in celebration…"
Hermione's lips thinned. She remembered.
"There were reporters sneaking onto the grounds and young wizards vandalizing my property. The Ministry sent a witch to investigate Narcissa's death. They wanted it to be murder so they'd have an excuse to put me in Azkaban."
Lucius paused, catching his breath.
"But the witch from the Ministry changed everything. She gave a true statement to the reporters and had the crowd sent away from my home."
Lucius looked at her with admiration that Hermione felt to her toes.
"I did what any decent person would do."
"No, you were the only one, Ms. Granger. No decent person would acknowledge our existence, let alone stand up for us."
"Did one of the picketers attack you? Is that what happened?"
"No, no. Sit down," he ordered, exasperated.
"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?" Hermione replied, plopping back down onto the grass.
A strange look came over the wizard and he avoided meeting her gaze.
Hermione sighed.
"Alright, keep your secrets. I know we're not friends but it's not like I'd report you – I resigned after the Ministry asked me to incriminate you."
With a last expectant glance that went ignored, Hermione fed the fire and began summoning leaves to transfigure into bedding.
"You don't want to know this old wizard's secrets," Lucius warned.
Hermione snorted, considering what sort of material would make the best bed. Cotton batting?
"I've thought of you as many things, Mr. Malfoy, but never an 'old wizard.'"
"Is that right?"
Hermione tilted her head, considering the nest she'd created for herself and then realized that Lucius' tone of voice had deepened. He'd sat up and was watching her.
"That's right," she replied, curious.
Instantly, Hermione began thinking of being alone with Lucius Malfoy in very different terms than she ever had. The fire popped, startling her from forbidden thoughts and she made herself comfortable on her charmed bed.
"You earned my respect, Ms. Granger," Lucius said.
"You earned mine, too, Mr. Malfoy. You held up quite well under the pressure."
Lucius scowled. "I've been under much worse pressure than that," he said darkly.
Unbidden, Hermione glanced at his arm where she knew the Dark Mark lay. An uneasy silence fell, filled only by the sound of the fire.
"I was in Diagon Alley this evening," Lucius said.
Hermione watched him through the fire, silently entreating him to continue. Instinctively, she knew he was going to tell her what had really happened.
"Have you any water?"
Rather than speak a word, Hermione sent her canteen scooting at him with a spell. She waited, impatiently, for him to have his fill and continue.
When he grimaced, Hermione took pity on him and got up to check his wound.
"The skin should be knit," she said, unceremoniously guiding him to lean back on his elbows so that she could get to his right side.
"Just sore," Lucius said, inhaling sharply when Hermione ran her fingers over the freshly healed skin. He grabbed her hand for a moment but immediately let go.
Hermione realized that touching Lucius awake was a little different than touching him while he was unconscious. She sat back on her heels, unsettled.
"I ran into your Mr. Weasley," he said with obvious distaste.
"He's not mine," Hermione replied quickly, bitterly.
"So I gathered," Lucius drawled.
Hermione stared expectantly. That comment deserved further explanation. There was a connection somewhere that she wasn't making.
"Tell me what happened."
Lucius lifted a brow at her tone.
"The details aren't very interesting. Suffice to say that I wasn't alone in limping away," he said lightly.
Hermione leapt to her feet.
"What? What do you mean? You didn't duel," she demanded.
Lucius shrugged with no guilt.
"I didn't like what I heard."
Hermione was still too angry with Ron to spare him any worry. And, no, she really didn't want to know the details. But Lucius' admission rather took the wind from her sails and she folded to the ground once more.
"Why did you interfere?"
"You earned my respect, Ms. Granger, and it is not easily won. I did as I saw fit."
Hermione was shaken by the emotions whirling through her. She was astounded that Lucius and Ron had dueled but ridiculously flattered that Lucius was moved to defend her. Completely on impulse, Hermione leaned towards Lucius and aimed a kiss as his cheek. A hand tangled in Hermione's curls guiding her into a completely different kiss than she'd intended.