Chapter 3

The voice startled her and she dropped her waterskin. Fearing the worst, Hermione slowly turned around. It was a well-known fact that mercenaries hid in these woods and preyed on travelers. A man with the whitest blond hair she had ever seen entered the clearing. Hermione doubted he was a mercenary. He was too well-dressed – a merchant's son by the looks of it – and appeared to be alone. He wore a bow and quiver, with a pack slung across his shoulders.

He did not look like a threat.

"What is wrong with the water?"

His grey eyes regarded her coolly. "Nothing, if you enjoy shitting all day."

"This stream comes from the mountains," Hermione explained, picking up her waterskin.

"I am familiar with these lands and I promise that you are wrong."

She bristled at his words. The one thing she hated was not only being wrong but being called out on it. The man looked bored with the conversation and started walking away. The last thing she wanted to do was ask for help, but she knew that her water reserve was gone. Swallowing her pride, Hermione ran up to the stranger.

"Wait! Sir, I do not mean to trouble you, but could you tell me where I could find water?"

The blond looked her up and down. "Where are you from?"

"From Almara. My aunt has fallen ill, so I am traveling to Elran to take care of her," she lied.

"You are a considerate niece. The water in these parts is not drinkable, but you can have some of mine," he said, handing her the flask.

Hermione took a sip of it and immediately burst into a coughing fit. He looked like he was on the verge of a smile, but it was gone before she could be certain she wasn't imagining it. "Do not tell me that the Princess of Almara is unfamiliar with ale."

"I am not a princess," she said, her brown eyes wide.

"You do look the part of a peasant, but your speech and mannerism give you away."

She did not answer but tilted her chin up at the criticism. "And who are you to know what a princess acts like?"

He was about to answer but pushed her under beneath a collapsed tree trunk instead. He glared at her when she was about to speak. "Someone is approaching. If you want to be found, by all means, continue talking."

That was when she heard the faint sounds of hooves. Her eyes widened and she stopped fighting against him. She crawled so that she was completely hidden, but could still see the blonde. Hermione grimaced at the spider webs and prayed that the spider was not here with her. She resisted the urge to move. The blond pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow. He looked calm, too calm. Who was this man? Was he really a merchant's son or had he stolen the clothes off a merchant during a raid? He could be a mercenary and it could be his friends on horseback.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"The Knights of Almara."

A new fear took hold of her. The blond looked at Hermione. He frowned before returning his attention to the newcomers. Her father's best knight Ronald Weasley rode into the clearing, followed by four other men. They were not supposed to search this far. Maybe they were tracking her?

"What is your business?"

"The Princess of Almara is missing. Have you seen any girls on your travels?"

Her companion's face was neutral. "No. If I do find her, where can I find you?"

"We'll be returning East. You can send news to one of the villages. Thanks for your time."

The Knights of Almara rode off without another word. Hermione stayed in her hiding spot, scared that they would return. She did not want to go back, but she was also nervous to face the strange blond man. It was clear that he knew who she was and that he was at an advantage because of it. He could easily capture her and sell her for a handsome ransom.

"You can come out, your Highness."

Taking a deep breath, she entered the clearing. "Thank you for not giving me up."

"Care to explain to me why I just committed treason?"

"We should start moving in case they return. Where are you headed?"

"I am also going to Elran. It is best we stay together," he said, slinging his bow over his over his shoulder.

Hermione started following him. He knew the forest better than she did and the difference between their stations was never clearer. His feet fell softly on the ground, while hers stomped loudly over every tree branch she could find no matter how quiet she tried to be. He was a fast walker and her short legs struggled to catch up to him. They walked until the sun set and began to set up camp.

"I am going to see if I can catch anything," he said, dropping his pack on the ground. "Unlikely, as you probably scared the animals off hours ago."

She rolled her eyes as he disappeared into the woods. Hermione gathered firewood and lit it within minutes. She was grateful that she had been on her own for a week already, otherwise, she would have been more of a burden to her companion. She bustled around the fire, unpacking her belongings. Night had fallen and she started to worry that he had left her alone or had been attacked by an animal. Grabbing his flask, she took a seat by the fire. Hermione took a sip of ale while she tried to figure out what to do next.

Her worries ended when he came back a short time later with two rabbits slung over his shoulder. He did not say a word and began to prepare the rabbits to be roasted over the fire. She stood awkwardly before deciding to gather more firewood. Hermione was used to others taking care of her, but a small part of her wanted to impress this man. He took no notice of her efforts.

"What is your name? It does not feel fair that you know mine and I do not know yours."

He had finished with the rabbits and had begun assembling something she had never seen before. Part of her wanted him to answer her question, but another part of her wanted to learn what he was doing. He slung the rabbits on the contraption and then waited until they were finished cooking. She added the firewood to the fire and sat across from him. The silence dragged on.

"How do you know how to do all of this?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?" He grabbed the flask from her and took a sip. "My father drilled into me the importance of survival. He used to take me hunting when I was younger and taught me all that I needed to know. I have also picked things up from other travelers along the way."

The rabbits were done before she could answer him. After letting them cool, he handed her one. She carefully picked it up and then realized she was not sure how she was supposed to eat it. Glancing at the blond, she saw that he just started biting into it. Taking a deep breath, she copied him. The taste of fresh meat after days of consuming only dry meat made her mouth water and she quickly finished it. He stared at her amused.

"I will take first watch. Get some sleep. You look like you need it," he said, grabbing a piece of wood and pulling out a knife. She grabbed her bag and rested her head on it. His skill with a blade should have worried her as she watched him carve the wood, but her fatigue had softened her paranoia. The heat from the fire warmed her and her eyes became heavy. It was not until she was minutes away from sleep that he answered her earlier question.

"My name is Draco."