A/N: Why, hello there.
Been a while!
Sorry Sorry I know I'm awful, it's been too long, but in my defense, I do have a vaguely reasonable excuse. Y'know. Out of the country and all that.

But I digress. Back now! And look, it's even a chapter where stuff happens! Plot development! Who'd a thunk!
... Yeah, it's short. Deal with it, it's been a while, I'm rusty.

I'll stop now. Enjoy! Review! Eat all your greens!

(Despite numerous annoying letters to the prime minister, I still do not own Harry Potter. Y'gotta admit, if I did, things might've turned out a little different.)


The voice repeated the message once, twice more in frantic excitement before coming to an abrupt stop. Static fills the air, loud and imposing - then silence.

The two stay frozen in place, still holding each other at arm's length, minds whirring with the process of new information. A cold wind wafts through the air, jolting them back to reality. Hermione's eyes widen and she pulls back, gasping, "Harry," at the same time Draco said quietly, "Hermione."

She spins around, hair flying wildly over her face, eyes blazing. He is deceptively calm, arms still outstretched around where she had stood a moment before. He lowers them cautiously, speaking slowly, the same measured tone as though talking to a wild animal, "Hermione, think about this."

"What is there to think about? Harry is safe. He's at Hogwarts. He was right."

"You can't just waltz into Hogwarts, Hermione, you're a fugitive!"

"Harry is the most wanted wizard in Britain, he got in, and he needs me."

"Think of everything that could go wrong! He's important, Hermione, I'm not going to bother trying to deny that, but it's just not worth it. It's not worth you."

"Just because you're a - a coward doesn't mean I have to be. Not now."

Draco flinches, only slightly, but Hermione notices. She knows that was a low blow, that he is by no means a coward after all they had gone through, but he just wasn't listening. Thinking of Harry, she puts as much venom as she can into her words,

"I'm going, Draco. I don't need you with me."

"I won't leave until you make me."

"Go."

Draco sighs, his arms folded. His eyes are squinted in frustration, one hand covering his brow. He doesn't move. Hermione watches him defensively, ready to fight any battle he'll start. Draco lets out a long breath, his voice mingled with air, "Please, Hermione. Don't do this. We're safe right now, we're - I'm happy. Happier than I've been in a long time. I can't watch you go out to die, I just can't. Please don't make me do that."

A raindrop, unseasonal, drops on the roof of the tent, breaking the silence. plink.

The two lock eyes - one pair pleading, the other resolute. Cold.

There's a crack of thunder, and suddenly they're in a downpour. The echoes of rain crashing against the tent is almost deafening, but Draco can hear her as if she's shouted, each word cold as ice,

"Then don't look."

Hermione turns, snatches up her wand, and makes as though to go out into the storm. A firm hand grips her wrist, keeping her in place. She turns, furious, ready to hex him off; but Draco's wand isn't raised. He isn't even looking at her. His gaze is lowered, his voice quiet.

"Not alone." he sighs, "Come on, let's go save Potter from whatever bloody problem he's gotten himself into this time." The words are as thoughtless as Draco ever is speaking about Harry, but his voice is weak.

Hermione freezes, surprised. The rain seems quieter now, a calming presence. Draco's grip slackens on her wrist, but before it can slip off, Hermione takes his hand in her own. It fits the same as it had in her dream - slender, surprisingly soft despite the few calluses, shaped perfectly to her own. The long fingers wrap around hers tentatively, and she gives them a reasurring squeeze.

Draco lifts his eyes to meet hers. She smiles slightly, and pulls them forward.


The night is cold and the wind unforgiving, but Hermione's hand is warm in his own, so Draco doesn't say anything. They pack the tent quickly, stowing it in the furthest depths of Hermione's forever useful beaded bag. Both of them know it's the last time they'll use it.

Her hair swirls around her face, almost black in the dark of the night, obscuring her face from view. Not knowing if he'll live through the next few hours, an overwhelming desire to just see her once more overtakes Draco - he reaches over with his free hand and tucks the stray hair behind her ear, holding it there. She faces him, her gaze matching the intensity of his own. They don't say anything, and after a moment his hand drops, and they just stand facing eachother.

Wordless, they apparate, and the nothingness takes them.

A sickening shriek echoes through their ears, drowning out any other sounds around them. Hermione thinks quicker than Draco, and pulls them around a wall just as a Death Eater in a black cloak appears around the corner, "'Putting the cat out' like hell! Not twice in one night! SOMEONE'S HERE, FOLLOWING POTTER! SPREAD OUT!"

Series of black cloaks follow out from behind the shouting Death Eater, disappearing into surrounding alleys. Hermione pulls them into an empty one and dashes forward, looking for cover.

"Where are we?" Draco hisses.

"Hogsmeade."

"I thought Potter was in Hogwarts?"

"He is," she whispers exhasparatedly, "We can't get in that quick. If you would just read Hogwarts: A History, you would know -"

"That you can't apparate within Hogwarts grounds, I know, I know. I can read, believe it or not."

Despite the ridiculous level of danger they were in, Hermione manages to turn and look at Draco, appearing both vaguely annoyed and a bit impressed. Draco, wondering if Potter or Weasley had ever actually read anything at all to cause the girl such tired patience, was just a little bit pleased.

A Death Eater's shout echoes loudly close behind them, and they quicken their pace. Ducking through and around objects and alcoves, they can't seem to shake the dark cloaks growing nearer. They sprint wordlessly, adreneline and fear the last things that fuel them. Draco feels Hermione's hand tighten, and squeezes back in what he hopes is reassurance, safe in the thought that at least he isn't alone.

"Girl! Over here!" A strained whisper calls to them from a doorway off to the left. Without stopping to think if this was at all a good idea, they throw themselves in and allow the stranger to bolt the door behind them. The two stand there, catching their breath, as the man casts a series of quiet spells on the door locks.

The room they've entered is damp and poorly lit. From what little light cast about the room, Draco can just make out the dark walls, sparcely decorated save for one giant portait of a young girl hanging above the fireplace. She watches them curiously from her frame as Hermione and Draco step cautiously through the room.

All the while, the stranger finishes whatever he was working on and comes towards them.

He turns into the light, and Hermione and Draco finally get a good look at him. They had ended up in the old pub The Hog's Head, and the man who saved them was the equally old barkeeper. A ragged greying beard, uncared for clothes, and the most striking blue eyes were all that Draco really noticed. Hermione, on the other hand, let out a small gasp, and her eyes widen. "You're Aberforth," she says, surprise and realization colouring her voice.

The blue eyes narrow as the take in Draco, zeroing in on his hand still clutching Hermione's protectively.
Turning his gaze onto Draco, Aberforth growls, "And you're a Malfoy."