Because I don't own anything, I don't make any money from it. Blaaah. This displeases me.

Hermione felt like they'd been walking in the dark for days when the tunnel finally began to slope upwards again. While Draco had very kindly healed her feet, he hadn't done anything for her general fatigue and malaise yet, and she was beginning to wonder if she should be seeing spots that way when he stopped her. He turned around to face her and took her by the shoulders.

"We have to stop here for a bit. It's just afternoon, if my watch is right, and they'll be scouring the country side."

"That's fine," Hermione murmured wearily. "May I sit down?"

Draco began to agree when he stopped and looked at her a little more closely. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm just tired, I think. It's no big deal-"

"You were in prison for four months without proper nutrition, exercise or clothing. You're exhausted. Sit down and I'll get you a potion and some food. Then we can rest for a few hours until sundown."

Rest…the word sounded wonderful to Hermione just then, especially as it would be her first real sleep in months. No chains, no stone floor- the packed earthen floor of the tunnel was heavenly in comparison. She sat down and leaned against the wall, letting her head loll back. Heavenly. Draco set the small lantern down and then joined her on the floor to dig about in his back. He pulled out a couple of bottles and a small package of rations. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards when he returned the package to its normal size. He'd really planned this whole thing out to the letter. It would have been amazing if she had really cared at that moment. As it was, all she wanted to do was sleep, but he was at her side and tipping a bottle into her mouth before she could protest.

"Swallow," he said sternly when she mustered a glare at him. She swallowed and found the ache of her body lessening almost immediately, accompanied by a short burst of energy that spread through her limbs. It gave her enough strength to sit up and regard the meal he'd set out. Bread, cheese, a turkey leg. Some dried fruits.

"Elegant," she remarked. He narrowed his eyes but broke off some of the meat for her and she ate it hungrily.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked after they'd had their fill of things. She nodded and leaned against the wall again. "Good. Try and sleep some. I'll wake you in a few hours. We have a long journey yet once we're out of the tunnel. We'll be walking all night."

She nodded and closed her eyes. Though she was feeling better, the last thing she wanted to do just then was waste energy on questions he wouldn't answer and arguments she wouldn't win.

Draco watched her sleep for a bit, then turned his attention to his papers. He pulled out a well worn map- one he knew like the back of his hand- and looked over it again. There could be no mistakes on this mission. It was his last and it would be his most important.

No mistakes.

Hermione woke to Draco's hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently, and his face next to hers. She started slightly and turned her head, confused at first.

"Where are we…?"

Draco shook his head and stuck the same potion bottle from before under her nose.

"Drink some."

"What? Why?"

"Granger," he said softly. "We're in an escape tunnel, remember? I got you out of Hogwarts last night. You've just been resting. Now drink some."

She let him put the bottle to her lips and tilt it back, felt the liquid warm her as it slid down her throat. She remembered. Ginny was dead, Blaise was dead, Draco was helping her to safety. She sat up a little too quickly and he caught her in his arms.

"Remember?"

She nodded stiffly and pried his arms off her.

"Good. Need something else to eat? No? Okay then, come with me." He tucked the potion back in his bag, picked up the lantern and stood, offering a hand to her. Instead of accepting it right away she levered herself up with both arms this time and he nodded in approval. "Good girl. Ready to go?"

She scowled and nodded. "But I'm not a 'good girl.' Haven't I been called enough demeaning things for a lifetime?"

A strange expression crossed his face and he turned forward. "Sorry. You're right. It'll be Granger from now on." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "I was just trying to sound…encouraging. I didn't mean anything by it."

She met his gaze awkwardly and looked away, continuing to move forward behind him.

"I know," she replied. "Mas- Blaise used to call me that, is all."

"Oh."

The conversation died away after that until they came to what Hermione assumed was the end of the tunnel. Draco turned around and gave her the lantern to hold while he pulled out his wand and braced himself against the stone wall in front of them. He didn't know what would be on the other side; there was no telling if Voldemort's spies had gotten hold of this particular bit of intel yet or not. Nevermind that it should open into a forest, and he didn't know if the local banshee and werewolf population had regenerated itself or not after the last culling by the villagers. He looked back at Hermione.

"If I tell you, run back into the tunnel and don't stop. I'm not sure if anything is going to greet our entrance or not."

Hermione gulped and nodded, gripping the lantern more tightly. Then he began to push against the stone. It slid outward, inch by inch, until there was an opening large enough for him to slip through. Before he could leave, Hermione's hand shot out and she gripped his sweater. He looked back at her, annoyed.

"What?"

Hermione was surprised by her own action and drew her hand back, reluctantly letting go of his sweater. "I just…you're coming back? After you look around?"

He eyed her for a moment and then nodded. "I'm coming back, Granger. Now stay back."

She stepped away, back into the darkness and shielded the lantern light with her body. She watched Draco slip away into the dimly moonlit forest beyond and waited to hear sounds of struggle, fighting, anything. Nothing came and a few minutes later Draco looked back in and held out his hand.

"It's relatively safe, looks like. Come with me and keep the lantern held high. I have to keep my wand out so I can't carry it."

Hermione was going to say something about him having two perfectly good hands when she realized that he wanted to make sure he was holding her hand. It sent a funny feeling up her spine. They must be in an awful lot of danger for Draco Malfoy to not only risk rescuing her and escaping with her, but to also want to hold her hand while they were doing it. He didn't need her, after all. She was practically useless. She didn't have a wand, she was still physically and mentally weak, she couldn't even brew a decent potion right now to save her life and the Death Eaters didn't want her for anything other than a sex toy, so he couldn't use her as leverage. It was very, very confusing as to why he'd bothered saving her at all when he could have just as easily bothered saving Ginny or any other number of her companions. She almost said something to him then, but the look on his face was so determined and serious that she was frightened to interrupt his thoughts. Finally, though, after a couple of hours of walking, she got up the nerve to ask him something that had been bothering her since the night before.

"How did she die?" she asked softly.

He looked at her, startled, before turning forward again. "Ginny?"

"Yes, Ginny."

He was quiet for several minutes and she thought he might just ignore her question when he finally spoke again.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully.

"What do you mean you don't-"

"I don't know," he reiterated more firmly. "When I got back to her cell, she was already all…beaten up. I always suspected Blaise had broken in, but he denied it every time. The bastard."

Hermione stopped suddenly, pulling on his hand as she bent over at the waist, gagging. Draco waited patiently for her to finish and pull herself back up.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I probably shouldn't have told you. And I know it was gruesome of me to take the hairs from her, but if you'll forgive my being Slytherin just this once, it was too good an opportunity to waste."

"How can you be sorry-"

"I am sorry!" he roared at her, turning with such speed it made her stumble away from him, though he caught her hand fast. "Don't ever try to tell me I'm not. I hate what they did to all of you! What they're still doing! If I could save all of you-"

"But you can't," she whispered. "So why are you saving me?"

He paled and straightened up, all expression leaving his face. He'd said too much. So he shrugged and smirked a little before facing forward. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he murmured casually.

Hermione watched his face carefully a moment more before turning away and trying to ignore the conflicting emotions she was feeling. Now was not the time to get Stockholm Syndrome.

They reached the outskirts of the woods six hours after leaving the tunnel and Hermione was blinded by the amount of moonlight that spilled over the now open fields. She hid her eyes a minute to let them adjust before she turned to Draco and nodded to move on. He gripped her hand a little more tightly and steered her along the edge of the woods for a while until Hermione could smell wood smoke on the air and saw a lantern light in the distance. As they neared what resolved into a farmhouse, she could see a barn a little ways from the house, which was nestled in a grove of trees on the edge of the forest. When they got close enough, she could also see a hitching post, fences, and a gate or two. The farmhouse looked like it hadn't been brought into the nineteenth century, even, but Draco marched on up to gate and opened it, walking through with Hermione behind him. The whole house was dark, but for a single lantern hanging from the front stoop. Draco walked over and knocked on the door softly.

A voice called out from behind it in a language Hermione didn't understand and Draco answered in the same. There was more silence and then they both heard a latch being moved and the door scraped open slowly. A little woman holding a candlestick greeted them both and ushered them in. She was in a bed gown and nightcap and Hermione boggled until Draco cast a stern glance at her. The little woman laughed and shook her head, taking Hermione's hands and babbling up at her in a cheerful, if tired, voice. Hermione looked up at Draco helplessly.

"Is that- Old English?" she asked incredulously. Draco smirked again and walked away into another room of the house, where Hermione heard sounds of another man speaking the same language. She did her best to communicate with the woman, which involved a lot of smiling and nodding until the woman forced her to sit in a large wooden rocking chair and told her to stay there. Then the woman disappeared into the other room as well. Hermione looked about herself and noticed that there seemed to be a stairwell between the two rooms and, judging by the furniture in this one, she was currently in the parlor. The other room might be the kitchen, then. She shook her head and leaned her head back. The potion Draco kept forcing on her certainly helped her stay on her feet, but it was grueling work, walking all night and she was still so tired. I'll just shut my eyes for a minute, she told herself as she closed them and began to rock back and forth very gently.

When Draco walked back into the room and saw her sleeping, he let out a frustrated sigh. There was no time for sleeping tonight. He needed to talk to her, prepare her for the next leg of the journey. She would probably be more prepared than he was, as she was a muggle, but this particular muggle world was a bit different than the one she knew in cozy London with dear old mum and dad. The old woman shook her head and put her hand on his arm.

"Let her rest, poor thing," she told him in her native tongue.

"Aye, there will be time enough for talk tomorrow. You know which room to use. Mama and I are going to bed now. Good night, William," the father murmured from behind him.

Draco nodded and shook hands with the man, watching as the older couple wandered up the stairs together. Then he walked over to Hermione and bent over, sliding his arms beneath her and hefting her up. She stirred a little, but did not wake up. Draco smiled a bit and then followed the couple up the stairs. He hoped vehemently that Hermione would not mind the name he'd chosen for her: Susan. Names like Draco and Hermione were simply too out of the ordinary. They'd be spotted a mile away for what they were if they used their real names.

Ah well. There'd be time enough tomorrow to explain things. For now, the woman was right. She deserved to sleep in a bed again. It was the least he could do, for all the lies he was telling her.

AN: Ta-da! More cookies, please, or I withhold the next chapter. And don't think I won't do it... (evil plotting ensues)