A/N : I'm rereading the books again and what a mistake. I'm now constantly comparing all my writings with JKR's, even though I know her stories are aimed at children. But her characters just hop around all over the place and mine refuse to move. Also, disclaimer.

Chapter Four : The Lookout

There was a definite spring in her step, Draco had noticed, as she exited the small bathroom and carried Teddy downstairs on her hip. She was practically beaming to herself, ignoring the suspicious look he was casting her way as she passed him and placed Teddy down beside the crackling fire.

"I think we both deserve it." She said to the child before raising her wand and uttering a short drying charm to both of their heads. Teddy's damp and dripping hair suddenly puffed up into a feathery mop of shocking pink under the spell, forcing a giggle out of him. Hermione's own chocolate brown ringlets reformed, just as wild and untamed as ever. Draco took note of how pleasingly they now cascaded over her shoulders and framed her subtle features. Was he getting desperate or what? This was beyond sickening.

"You seem to clean up pretty well, yourself." Draco interrupted as he parroted Hermione's words earlier in the day with a snide tone, unsure what to make of his unexpected and unwarranted attraction to her appearance.

"What can I say?" She glared over to him, but her attitude was light-hearted. "I haven't had a decent shower in four years."

"Four years." He screwed his face up at that. Four years had passed so quickly and yet he had accomplished hardly anything at all. He had found himself and his parents a shelter, nay, a shack. But that was it. Apart from trying to collect enough food every day to get them through to the next, he hadn't made any progress. And in only the first day Hermione had arrived, she had them eating warm food and having hot showers – and enjoying a fire! He was appallingly ill-equipped to live the Muggle sort of life.

"Crazy to think about, huh?" She was pulling on her coat, the one with many pockets and Draco mulled her words over in his mind. Yes, it was crazy to think that she, a Muggle-born, lesser-class witch was more proficient at surviving than he was. It was crazy to think that in the last four years he had done nothing but struggle and fail while she was seemingly succeeding in leaps and bounds. It was school all over again. A Mudblood was running circles around him and his family, but for once he found it oddly difficult to get upset over. He found himself experiencing a weird emotion that he didn't often encounter. Dear Merlin, was he thankful? His parents would certainly be appalled.

She was heading towards the door and he assumed it was time to reinforce the wards and followed, Teddy trailing shyly after him.

She cooked noodles when it had darkened outside, keeping the kitchenette lit by some candles she found hidden in a cupboard. (Draco hadn't known they were there, of course). She had collected quite the assortment of spices on her adventurous jaunts and Draco was rather pleased to find the ramen-styled noodles weren't entirely as horrible as they looked.

Teddy lapped his up wholeheartedly while Draco had taken his and his parents' share upstairs to eat with then. Hermione wondered again what exactly he did up there when he ate food. Where they just huddled around in a dark and dingy room eating their pasta in silence, or were they talking? And if so, what about? Did they know she was downstairs or did they assume Draco had just become a wiz with Muggle technology unexpectedly? It was all so strange and bizarre to think about.

When Draco had returned with his dishes, she had made him sit next to the fire with her and initiated a stock-take. He reluctantly agreed and they went through every item on the counter, identifying what they had plenty of, what they were low on and what they were missing but should try to acquire. Teddy fell asleep on the couch listening to the droan of list making and systematising.

It was such a Hermione thing to do, to go through everything, make a list and try to bring organisation to the chaos. In school he would have given her shit for acting so bossy and domineering, but so far her attitude seemed to be bettering his life and again he found it difficult to muster the familiar resentment he had historically felt.

Hermione noticed the ease in which he was complying, and found herself once again captivated by how weird and dream-like the situation was. She kept waiting for him to revert to his usual snarky self.

"Draco," She began, looking up from the scrap of paper she had been writing on. She knew she was tempting fate with her following sentence. "Are your parents okay? I mean physically, are they alright?"

She wasn't sure what kind of response to expect, but she wasn't surprised when Draco leaned back on his palms, staring up at the ceiling above them and pursed his lips.

"Physically? They're dandy." He scoffed and then looked back to Hermione, brows low. "Why're you asking, Granger? You never cared for any of my family and we certainly never cared for you. Why start now?"

"Peace of mind." She shrugged and looked sideways to where Teddy lay, his gentle puffs silenced by the crackling fire. "I would feel better knowing they are physically well."

"Well then, you can rest your mind and butt out of my family's affairs." He stated severely and Hermione thought she must have struck a nerve, but she nodded calmly and then went back to their list.

After what felt like another hour had passed, Hermione frowned and looked back up to Teddy. Draco had just eluded to a lookout point that was located not too far away, but was rather dangerous to approach. The building sat nestled in a large clearing of overgrown grass but the trek across the clearing lacked cover. She would have dismissed it, if not for the fact it was a lookout point and probably contained a good amount of vital supplies that they needed.

"We would have to go at night." Draco frowned, weighing up their options and watching Hermione's reaction. "It's just too risky in the day without any protection. All it would take would be one Death Eater to show up and all hell would break loose."

Hermione agreed with his reasoning, but knew that meant Teddy wouldn't be able to come.

"We would have to leave him here." She sighed and worried her bottom lip. Teddy had never been separated from her for long and she wasn't sure how he would endure a night alone (with his own hermit Aunt on the floor above him, no less).

After a long contemplation, they decided it was ultimately necessary.

Snatchers. Four of them. Hermione hadn't seen a Snatcher in a while, and so she had assumed there were none patrolling this town. Her heart sunk as she realised that was no longer the case. The four men walked together like a pack of dogs, hunting for prey on the outskirts.

Hermione shifted painfully yet silently, her legs cramping up from being cold and motionless for so long. She and Draco had been walking through the long overgrown grass track near the lake away from the lookout point where they had found ample supplies – toiletries, rations and Muggle medical provisions. On their way back, they had been forced to duck and cover in the tall snowy grass as the Snatchers had made their sudden appearance, and they hadn't yet left. They kept walking back and forth across the path, sniffing the air and peering into the darkening distance.

"They can smell us." Hermione whispered with a grimace, thinking back to when she had been foraging with Harry and Ron. Back then, a Snatcher had caught a whiff of her perfume as he had stalked by, but her protective shields had fortunately been very sturdy. She had no idea what they were smelling now though and she hadn't been given the chance to even start a protego.

"We have to back up." Draco spoke with a familiar angry snarl as he whipped his head around to where they had come from. Still crouched, he begun to move his way back through the long grass. Hermione watched apprehensively. The grass didn't offer much cover and any slight movement was telling.

She was about to move herself when she heard one of the Snatchers yell from the distance.

"What's that over there?!" She needn't look back over her shoulder to see they had started advancing rapidly, having caught sight of the grass moving around them.

She heard Draco cursing under his breath before standing upright and breaking into a sprint.

"Stay down!" She urged, gripping her wand tightly before groaning and following suit.

"Get 'em!" One of the Snatchers called and she heard a series of unannounced hexes whizzing past and lighting up the dark ground.

They were almost back to the look-out point but beyond that there was nothing but the black, empty lake sprawling until it met the night sky.

"Crucio!" She heard Draco yelling as he looked back, aiming his wand imprecisely to where he assumed the Snatchers were. Hermione's automatic reflex forced her to tense up and trip slightly.

Nightfall was completely upon them, and everything was cast in heavy black shadow. Nothing was easy to make out, not even ground in front of them.

They made it to the water's edge, the Snatchers hot on their trail. Draco darted up a jetty, urging himself not to slip on its frozen surface as he aimed his wand behind. Hermione followed out of panic and then kicked herself for doing so. There was no way off the jetty and the Snatchers had them cornered.

"What the fuck do we do?!" Draco was pressing her for ideas and Hermione was drawing nothing but blanks, eyes darting everywhere as more hexes and spells whizzed by, barely missing them.

She couldn't think of anything – there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Why had she followed him in such a blind panic?

"One of 'em's a girl!" An advancing Snatcher yelled out in an eager way that made Hermione's skin crawl. She backed up further until the heel of her boot met the edge of the jetty.

"Take a breath." She heard Draco instruct, and she gave a squeak of protest as he grabbed her around the waist and threw himself backwards. She did as he said, sucking in a surprised yelp as she freefell with him back into the inky depths of the lake, instantly hit in the back by a cold wall of icy water.

Her chest constricted of its own accord in response to the sudden biting cold against her skin and she opened her eyes but couldn't see anything. She felt bubbles tickling her face but couldn't make anything out. Nothingness enveloped her. Pure black nothingness. She felt something akin to thousands of needles stabbing her all over, chilling her right to the bone. The water was cold to the point of painful.

Draco's arm left her waist and she grabbed into the black nothingness to reclaim him but instead only seized slimy vines and plants, hopelessly. He was gone and suddenly she was alone in the dark frigid cold with the Snatchers overhead. With no sense of direction, she wasn't sure what way was up or down. What way should she swim to take a breath? How long had she been under?

Suddenly her lungs were burning and there was a painful bursting in her chest, demanding she take a breath, open her mouth and suck in air, water, anything.

A hand grabbed her jacket collar and yanked her upward and she broke through the river surface, gulping in a breath of air gargled with water. For a startling moment, she was sure a Snatcher had apprehended her, and she sputtered and thrashed senselessly against her captor, stilling only when she heard Draco telling her to stop and to be quiet. He held her against the end of the jetty, keeping her afloat as he peered around for the Snatchers. They were gone.

Hermione tried treading water but couldn't feel her legs, they were so numb and detached, and her coat felt like a lead weight pulling her under. She felt so heavy, weighed down by her clothes and shoes. Slowly they managed to make their way around the jetty and dragged themselves up onto the river bed. Hermione knew they were in trouble when the freezing lagoon they had emerged from felt warmer than the air around them.

Hypothermia, her dad had always told her, came in three waves. In its mildest form, people were still able to walk and talk, but as it progressed they lost motor coordination and eventually curled up into a hibernation-like state until, inevitably, suffering from cardiac arrest. Hermione had gone through her first ten years of life believing she would die to hypothermia – or quicksand, which also seemed to be a very prominent killer if Muggle action movies were to be believed.

But thanks to her father's insistence of imparting all kinds of useless medical knowledge down to his daughter, she knew that both her and Draco were in the early stages of said affliction.

"We need to move." She grunted, surprised by the stiffness of her jaw as she spoke. They needed to keep moving, they needed to get home as soon as they possibly could.

Draco had partially collapsed in front of her, shaking violently in the moonlight as he struggled to find his footing. She reached numbly for her wand and tried to cast a warming charm. It failed twice before she got the movement right, and it only offered them both minimal heat. She felt incredibly drained and knew she had to conserve her strength.

They had only staggered a short distance through the overgrown grass when Draco fell again, this time emitting a low groaning noise as he tried and failed to stand back up.

Hermione grabbed his arm, desperately pulling at it to get him back on his feet, but her own hands were so numb it felt like she had wrapped them in cotton wool, and she couldn't get a good grasp on him at all.

"T-t-to fricken c-cold…" He ground out, teeth clenched together to stop them from chattering as he shivered aggressively. It occurred to Hermione that she had never seen him look so pitiable and helpless before. My, the times had certainly changed.

"There's n-no way we can make it back to the safehouse in t-this manner." Hermione admitted, wiping dripping tendrils of hair from her face. They would surely freeze to death before they ever got close. Hermione looked off in the distance and over to the right where the lookout still stood. At least that would offer them some form of shelter.

"G-gettup." She demanded desperately, her own words slurring together as she pulled at his arm again. With no small amount of effort, she somehow managed to drag him back up and linked her sopping arm with his, pulling him toward the lookout post. He fumbled clumsily next to her as she hurried toward the small white building and flung open the door, pushing him inside.

There wasn't much inside and most of the useful items they had already looted. Draco collapsed again against the floor, and Hermione held her wand out and muttered a shivery lumos to look around. It was just as they had left it – bare and unhelpful.

"W-why is it always w-winter here?" She heard Draco snap, heard him peeling off his drenched coat.

Shaking, her eyes instantly took in the large curtained windows and she stumbled over to them, grasped them and with all the might she could summon she ripped them from their rails where they shielded the window awnings. They weren't blankets but they would have to do.

"T-take of y-your clothes." She ordered as she dragged the curtains back to where Draco had slumped to the floor, shivering violently in a forming pool of river water. He looked at her venomously as if she had abruptly been cursed with a second head.

"Just d-do it." She pleaded, huffing into her hands in a desperate attempt to restore some feeling in them. She forced them to cooperate and removed her coat and kicked off her shoes.

She then peeled her shirt away from her skin and over her head, leaving her in only a bra and sopping wet jeans. She felt exposed and frozen and her breath caught in front of her, vapour betraying the chilly air that nipped at her exposed skin.

He stared at her angrily, nostrils flaring, but didn't say anything. His fringe, now damp, leaked river water into his eyes where it hung over his face. He looked like a drowned rat, and probably felt like one too.

Preserve energy, her mind urged her. Keep warm. Save body heat. Now is not the time to get flustered in front of Draco bloody Malfoy.

"We need t-to k-keep our body temperatures up. You n-need to remove t-the damp clothes. They will kill you."

Draco did try earnestly to make a start on the buttons of his shirt at the mention of death, but his hands were shaking too much to be of use.

"C-c-cant." He bit out, shuddering. "T-to c-cold."

Hermione willed her own hands to obey again and leaned closer to him, forcing his shirt buttons through their loops with more effort than would have usually been necessary. Her hands were shaking, and she leaned forward to huff warm breath on them as she undid his top and stripped him of it.

"J-j-jezzus" She heard him mutter and she grimaced in the realisation she had been giving him more than an eyeful of cleavage. She promptly pulled away, turned and began on the fly of her jeans. Did he really not realise how serious this was? That it was either this or freezing to death?

"Body h-heat." She stuttered angrily, forcing her damp jeans down over her hips. "N-need to remove the w-wet s-stuff t-t-to get warm. Be serious." She looked over to him and indicated for him to do the same. He met her with an unpleasant expression before shuddering it away as he removed his wet shirt from around his shoulders.

He shook violently and huffed into his own hands, rubbing them together to try and create friction. Gingerly he lowered them to his fly and attempted to undo it but found he was shaking so much that he couldn't even grasp the zipper. Instead, he groaned a string of curses and tucked his hands into his armpits, teeth chattering of their own accord.

"You're s-so pathetic." Hermione announced. She already had her jeans off, and had grabbed a curtain, wrapping it around her shoulders. "I-I'll do it, then, lest you freeze t-to death." Her bossy tone had returned and she leaned back in to unzip his pants.

"F-f-fuck off." He stuttered, swotting numbly at her hands as he protested her actions. She successfully undid his fly after a couple seconds and hooked her fingers into the band of his pants, pulling the sodden fabric down much to his disagreement. Hermione had become very clinical in her actions and he let out an unexpected, un-Malfoyish whimper, pushing her away.

She sat back and wrapped herself more firmly in the curtain with an exasperated look, watching Draco struggle to get the remainder of his saturated pants off. He groaned again in defeat and doubled over, his body wracked with violent convulsions.

"You arrogant b-bastard." She declared and leaned forward on her knees to drag him up into a tight embrace. She felt him try and go rigid against her but with his bare chest against hers, he shivered uncontrollably and wrapped his arms around her back tightly out of instinct. He held her in a vice-like grip, shivering steadily and in time with her.

It was a bizarre embrace.

"Ohmygodsofuckingwarm." She heard him shudder against the nape of her neck, felt his hands pawing at her back, trying to pull her closer to steal her heat. She locked her curtained arms around him, trying to share what little warmth she had while simultaneously syphoning his.

"W-why do you make things s-so hard?" Hermione asked over his shoulder but he didn't respond and after a moment had passed she realised why. Or rather she felt why. He very well could have asked her that same question regarding a certain something now standing to attention between them, pushing incessantly against her naval. Smart as she was, it took even her a moment to realise what it was, why it was happening and what was going on.

Oh dear God…

It was purely natural, she quickly rationalised inside her head. The clinical nature of her mind took over speedily and forced her to see reason. It was normal. They were pressed up against each other and they were nearly naked. It was a completely standard reaction, entirely typical. Nothing strange there. He probably wasn't even aroused. Maybe it was just a consequence of major temperature change on the human anatomy. Yes, that was definitely it. That sounded entirely plausible, like it had come right out of a textbook.

But it was still awkward as all hell, and Draco didn't seem to be letting go. Maybe he was ashamed, she justified. She herself would have been mortified in the same situation, too embarrassed to withdraw and face the inevitable disgrace given the circumstances. Maybe it would help if she pretended nothing had happened, that nothing was happening.

"Malfoy, I need to—" She reached out for the other curtain with the intention of offering it to him, giving him a means to extract himself with a shred of dignity still intact, but he refused to let her go, holding her tightly in place against him. She made to pull away, but he held steadfast, fleetingly rapt with shivers.

His breath was shallow and warm against her ear, tickling and prickling her skin. What in the world was happening? Why wasn't he letting go? Wasn't he ashamed of his reaction?

Nothing to be ashamed off, Hermione's quiet and oppressed wicked inner self delighted, but she frowned all the same.