Author's Note. Jk rules and she owns Harry Potter and all his friends, not me.

Mudblood Smuggling

Hermione lay motionless, the warmth of the charmed self-warming sheets seeping into her still twitching muscles. For the love of phoenix tears, what was going on? Draco "the Ferret" Malfoy had just tucked her into his own bed and ordered her to fall asleep. Would the four horse men of the apocalypse canter through the bedroom next? Or perhaps Voldemort himself would saunter in and perform an Irish jig to a Weird Sisters chart topping hit. At this point, anything seemed more probable than the situation she was currently in.

"Granger, seriously, I can actually hear the cogs and wheels in your brain grinding together. You would be dead already if that was what I wanted. Give it a rest. Literally. Close your beady little eyes and go to sleep."

She did not have the strength to argue at the moment and quite frankly, a part of her believed that Malfoy would not have gone to all the trouble of making her comfortable if he was going to kill her in her sleep. Her eyelids were heavy and she let them drift shut. Just a few minutes of rest. That is all she needed. She would sleep, just for a moment, just until Malfoy himself had fallen asleep, and then she would bolt. Rested, she should be able to evade the Death Eaters lurking about, find an exit to the Manor, maneuver through the wards and traps sure to be set on the property grounds and escape entirely. A very good plan, if she thought so herself.

Draco closed his eyes and waited. His nerves were too wired to even consider sleeping. But, if he didn't feign sleep, Granger would never succumb to it. At long last, Hermione's breath softened and lengthened as she fell asleep. Draco did not move a muscle in fear that the slightest shift of the mattress would awaken her for almost a half hour. Eventually, he decided that she was in a deep enough slumber that he should be able to get out of the bed without disturbing her. In one slow, sinuous motion, Draco slithered off the bed and onto his feet. Closing the drapes around the bed together, he cast a sound proofing charm and went to his bookshelf. Might as well have something to read while he waited for his mother to give him the all clear sign from the disastrous escape of Potty and Weasel earlier.

He had been settled in a chair next to the window for a few hours when a ward from the hallway went off. It was the sound of an owl hooting in a very specific sequence. Draco had cast the spells guarding his room very carefully so that he would know who was approaching. The sound of an owl calling in a staccato beat of low tones was assigned to his mother. "Finally," Draco said to himself.

Instead of waiting for his mother to wade through the numerous defense systems leading up to his bedroom, Draco opened the door, reset the locks and strode toward Narcissa. To a stranger, both mother and son looked calm and vague; disinterest of the world at large the prominent feature on their faces and in their body language. However, both Narcissa and Draco noticed the tiny cracks in the mask the other was wearing. There was a small crease between Narcissa's brows and her shoulders were drawn back more than good posture called for. Draco's lips were pressed together and the fingers of his left hand were clenched.

"Mother?" Draco inquired, controlling his voice. He stopped a few feet before her.

Narcissa crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood as straight as a lightning rod. "It has been resolved, my son."

"Will the family be implicated in this…situation?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, there were too many witnesses for us to sweep this under the rug. Fenir is certainly on his way to The Dark Lord as we speak. He seeks the Mark…the power…the privileges of being one of us. Our Leader will come. And when he does, you will be back at school. I highly doubt He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will expend the energy to pursue you. Not when he has much more available targets," she stated matter-of-factly.

"But Mother!" exclaimed Draco as he closed the gap between them and grasped her by the shoulders. "He'll kill you. Or worse!"

His mother interrupted what was becoming an emotional scene on Draco's part. "It has been decided and you will obey your father and I," she said coolly, removing her son's death grip on her shoulders and folding them into her own hands. "It will take Fenir quite a while find The Dark Lord and gain an audience with him. We will have ample time to create a scenario that puts our family in the best light possible," Narcissa concluded, pulling her wand from the ornamental belt at her waist. She pressed the 9 inch cherry wood with a manitcor stinger core wand into Draco's left hand. "Take this," she said firmly.

"No Mother, I cannot leave you here unarmed," protested Draco. "Especially since Father has been disposed of his wand as well."

"I insist. I will not tolerate any argument from you," Narcissa hissed. "Now go and pack your things. Your father is arranging an early arrival for you at Hogwarts. You will leave at dawn. With my wand."

She placed her hand on the crown of his head, then traced a sideways eight on his forehead with her thumb. An ancient Malfoy blessing. The only sign of affection she allowed herself to show for her only child. Draco accepted her blessing with his eyes closed. Not letting her see the pain he was feeling for abandoning her was the only sign of affection he allowed himself to show her. They turned from each other and stalked off in opposite directions. Neither looked back.

Draco made his way through the wards around his room. He had a lot to do and little time in which to do it in. First and foremost, he had to get rid of the Mudblood sleeping peacefully on his bed. He contemplated drugging her with a powerful sleeping potion and packing her into one of his school trunks. There was the issue of the heightened security at the school and the fact that even his luggage would be scanned and searched for contraband. He was confident that he could cloak her with enough wards and charms that she would pass through the inspections undetected; he was more concerned with what to do with her once he arrived at the school. Setting her loose in the nest of Death Eaters and conspirators Hogwarts had become was not much better than letting her wander the halls of Malfoy Manor unattended. No, Draco decided. He needed to smuggle her out of the Manor now, while everyone else was distracted.

Throwing aside the curtains on Hermione's side of the bed, he was caught by surprise to see that her eyes were already opened and that she was waiting for him. Hermione had adjusted several of the pillows and was reclined in a semi-upright position. She had the mien of ancient royalty; her eyes patient and inquisitive. Draco was taken off guard and was momentarily speechless.

"Malfoy," Hermione said simply.

After a few seconds of silence, Hermione repeated herself. "Malfoy." She waited for him to respond and when he didn't she demanded, "You need to get me out of here. You can't keep me here forever. I won't wait for Vol…"

Before Hermione could even reach the second syllable of the Dark Lord's name, Draco roughly clapped a hand onto her mouth.

"Do. Not. Say. His. Name." he spat out at her. "Only rebels use his name and anyone who speaks it will be found and prosecuted. Never forget that."

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized her near fatal error. She vaguely remembered hearing Dean Thomas mention something to that affect as they were being transported by the Snatchers. She reached up and removed Draco's hand. "So it's true then," she said softly.

"Yes. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has grown creative," Draco explained. "He has managed to invent a sort of Portkey based on the sound generated from saying his name. All of the Snatchers have a small dagger that glows red when the Dark Lord's name is spoken. If they choose, they grasp the hilt and are transported within feet of the idiot that dared speak His name. It's a poor excuse for the Mark they all crave, but they relish the privilege. I am surprised that there were not more Snatchers escorting the lot of you here."

"All of that is beside the point," he continued before Hermione could interrupt with more questions. "You're right, you do need to get out of here. Now." At the sight of the confusion in her eyes he snapped, "Don't ask questions, don't examine my motives, just do what I tell you."

He turned his back on her and stalked to his armoire. From the back, he snatched a cloak from his fourth year. He inspected it and deemed it long and large enough to disguise Hermione's form without being ridiculously and conspicuously large on her.

"Put this on and follow me," Draco ordered as he threw the garment at her.

Hermione balked, the cloak she caught instinctively balled up between her hands. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she finally managed to sputter out.

Turning back toward her, Draco curled his upper lip into the classic Malfoy sneer. "Really," to add insult to injury, he raised an eyebrow. "How exactly are you planning to evade the Deatheaters in residence, maneuver the wards and escape the property?" He crossed his arms across his chest and set an expression of bored sarcasm on his face.

Opening her mouth a few times, Hermione could not think of a retort. He had a point. If she wanted to get through the Manor alive, she would need a guide. She might not know what his intentions were, but the worst he could do was lead her into trap. If she remained vigilant, she could avoid being caught in whatever manipulations Malfoy had planned and still benefit from his guidance through his home. On the other hand, perhaps he was serious about helping her and did not wish to hurt her. Either way, there was no other logical choice but to follow him.

"Lead the way," Hermione conceded.

With a curt nod, Draco opened the door and began disassembling the wards guarding his room. Hermione slipped on the cloak and drew the hood over her hair. Draco gestured for her to follow him and led her into the corridor. Moving swiftly and almost silently, the pair ghosted through the Manor without meeting anyone. Before exiting through a side door, Draco cracked it open and peeked in each direction. Hermione had to stifle a giggle; the action reminded her of a small child checking if the coast was clear during a game of Hide-and-Seek. Apparently satisfied that nobody was on the grounds or watching from a window, Draco grabbed the edge of Hermione's borrowed cloak and jerked her into a run. Sprinting, they ran headlong across the lawn toward the line of trees bordering the edge of the Malfoy property. No alarm was cried out and they passed into the cover of the forest undetected. They stood panting for a few moments and once they had caught their breath, Draco began leading the way to the property line.

The forest was fairly thick and they had been walking for an hour without speaking to each other. The woods, however, were far from quiet. Night creatures called to one another, trees moaned and leaves rustled. In spite of the noise, Draco heard the footsteps of two other people approaching from the opposite direction. It would not be long before whoever it was stumbled upon them.

"Merlin's ratty, flea infested beard," mumbled Draco.

Before Hermione could ask what was wrong, Draco grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her forcibly into the trunk of a nearby tree. Drawing the hoods of both of their cloaks up, he leaned in toward Hermione, his forehead resting on her temple and his lips touching her cheeks. He took his mother's wand out of the cloak pocket and began hurriedly whispering spells. She could not hear what he was saying, but could feel the movement of his lips against the side of her face. Hermione stiffened in distrust and tried to move away, but Draco tightened his grip. He withdrew his face slightly so that he could look her in the eyes and implored, "trust me." That said, he continued his incantations, at times waving his wand over Hermione's head. When he finished, he hid the wand back into the pocket, placed one hand on the tree behind Hermione and the other firmly gripped the back of her head. Taking a deep breath, Draco steeled himself. Then without warning, he kissed her. Hard.

Hermione's protests were muffled. She squirmed and tried to push Draco away, but he remained persistent, his lips attached to hers and his head following the jerky motion of her own. His fingers buried into her hair and he used this to his advantage, twisting his wrist so that she was effectively trapped by the long strands. He was relentless and Hermione was afraid.

A twig snapped under a nearby foot and, with casual indifference, Draco nudged the hood of Hermione's cloak off of her face.

"Oi! Pansy! What are you doing here?" the oafish voice of Vincent Crabbe boomed through the night air.

The trollish laugh of Gregory Goyle followed in an idiotic cadence. Draco ended the brutal kiss to sneer over his should at the dual epitome of stupid. "What does it look like she's doing her, Crabbe?" snapped Draco.

"She's snogging you?" Goyle offered dumbly.

"Fantastic, I was so grievously worried that you were going blind, Goyle," countered Draco in acid tones. "Now that we've established that I am having an intimate moment with Parkinson, shove off. The both of you!"

"But Draco, why is she here? Nobody is supposed to come on the grounds except…." Crabbe hesitantly began to whine.

"Stow it Crabbe. Can't you see I'm trying to eliminate some stress? Would you rather I soothed my nerves by practicing the Cruciatus on your overgrown ass? Get out of here!" Draco snarled.

This successfully stopped any further comment on either Crabbe or Goyle's part and the two of them beat a hasty retreat back in the direction of the Manor. Draco continued to glare at them, his left hand still entangled in Hermione's hair.

During the entire exchange, Hermione's eyes had darted wildly between her blonde captor and the imminent threat of his fellow Slytherins. Now that the danger had seemed to be past, she took stock of her situation. Draco's body was flush against hers, pinning her to the tree and she could feel his rapid breath against her chest, even though his face did not reveal any of the signs of panic. A lock of hair floated across her face and she started in surprise. The hair was not the unruly, light brown of her own, but rather a stick straight black. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the silver mirror of Draco's eye. It was not her own face looking horrified back at her, but a girl with close set eyes and a pug nose. He had cast a Dissolusionment charm on her, giving her the appearance of Pansy Parkinson!

Satisfied that Crabbe and Goyle had left and would not be returning, Draco lifted the spell and released his death grip on her hair.

"We had better get moving," he said without looking at Hermione. "We're almost to the property line and I need to get back before Crabbe and Goyle start running their mouths."

Hermione nodded and mutely followed. In ten minutes, they reached the edge of the Malfoy lands. Hermione could almost physically feel the metaphorical weight of being in such a dangerous place lifted from her spirits. She took a deep breath in as though the air on this side of the property line was somehow sweeter. Turning, she smiled at Draco.

"What are you grinning about," he demanded.

"I'm free," she said simply. "I'm free and I will find my friends and everything will be OK again. Well, as alright as possible, in these circumstances."

"I don't know how you imagine you'll accomplish that. I'm not going to help you find the Dubious Duo. This is where I leave you. You're on your own," Draco retorted peevishly.

"I don't think I'll need your help finding them. Stand back a bit and cover your face. Their motto tends to be 'Hex now, ask questions later' these days," said Hermione as she shooed Draco a few steps away from her.

"Ron," Hermione cried out into the night sky. "Ron I need you!"

A few seconds later an ear popping crack resounded and reverberated off the trees. Ronald Weasley stood several feet from them, his arm extended over his head and in his hand a silver cylinder was clutched tightly. He somehow managed to look bewildered, excited, angry and relieved all at the same time. Ron caught sight of Hermione and let out a jubilant shout. He loped across distance separating them, picked her up off the ground and squeezed her until she couldn't breathe.

"Merlin, 'Mione! We thought you were dead. Malfoy levitated you into the cell next to ours, we could hear him talking to the guards, and then Dobby showed up out of nowhere and busted us out and then we started running in all directions because we didn't know where we were going and the guards were coming and Harry was going up the stairs and Dean was throwing open all the doors to the other cells and I opened the one you were in and you were gone! Dean said you weren't in any of the others and Harry was screaming at me to hurry because he was sure they must have taken you again to Crucio you some more," Ron rushed without pausing.

"Morgan le Fey's knobby knees Weasel, she's turning purple," drawled Draco.

Recognizing the voice, Ron immediately went on the defensive. In his rush to get to his wand, Ron dropped Hermione. She landed with a thump and gasped for air. Meanwhile both Ron and Draco drew their wands and took defensive stances. At an impasse, they eyed each other. Hermione came to her hands and knees and yelled, "Ron stop! He's the one that got me out of the Manor!"

Not easing his position, Ron swiveled his eyes to look at her. "You've got to be kidding me," he gritted through his teeth.

"No, Ronald. He didn't take me into the dungeons, he must have charmed an illusion to make it look like he did. He took me to his room and …. well …. he saved me," she finished quietly.

For once, Ron was struck speechless. His mouth hung open at an unattractive angle as he regarded his friend as though she had grown a third head. Hermione took the opportunity to stand up completely and she warily approached Draco.

"Come with us Malfoy," she pleaded. "Come with Ron and I. I'll explain to Harry what you've done and we'll find a way to keep you safe. You don't have to continue down the path you're on. You don't want to, I can tell." At this point, she was inches from Draco and she reached a hand tentatively to touch his shoulder.

Draco allowed the touch. He looked resigned and defeated. Sighing he said, "No Granger, I can't come with you."

"But Malfoy," protested Hermione.

He did not let her finish. Roughly, he threw her hand off of his shoulder, spun her around and pushed her hard toward Ron.

"Get her out of here. Now!" he yelled.

As Hermione fell into him, Ron wrapped an arm around her and Disapperated.