Sorry I left the story sitting so long with a cliffhanger! Honestly, I've been a bit exhausted.

As usual, I'd love to hear feedback! I love reading your reviews, thank you so much for taking the time to leave them.

"Lucius," Hermione hissed, pulling her arm away, "we can't…" she closed her eyes, just for a moment. An inexplicable drowsiness was taking over, at the worst possible time, begging her to rest. Her common sense screamed back, fighting her body to stay awake, now was not the time. She snapped her eyes open, momentarily alert.

"So," Collin asked, still looking at her like she had all the answers, "what's the plan?" The boy was practically vibrating where he stood, partially from the adrenaline, partially from the fear. She didn't answer, unsure how to break it to him that there was no plan.

"What's he doing here, anyways?" Dennis continued.

"Where's Harry?" Collin asked again. She found it strangely comforting to see that some things didn't change. She'd lost count of how many times he'd asked her that question back when they were still at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, it was a very shallow comfort since this time she had absolutely no idea what the answer was.

Lucius was scowling at her. Damn, he was angry. More than angry, his eyes were steely and cold, devoid of any of the concern and care she'd been privy to only a few minutes ago. He stood abruptly, walking towards the door. Hermione winced when it slammed shut.

"Why was he so angry? Why isn't he trying to kill us?" Dennis asked, piercing the silence. "I don't understand." the younger boy continued, "Are you alright?"

She was barely aware by the last question, not that she would have had time to answer any of them at the rate they were being asked. Instead, her stomach twisted with a different kind of pain than she'd already been feeling. Abandonment. Again.

She'd spent months surprised every time she saw his pale, pointed face the day after an argument. She waited for him to decide it was no longer worth putting up with her, even if it meant starting over elsewhere. Her best friend had left. Ron, who'd stood by her and Harry through thick and thin, fought alongside them as they faced one obstacle after another, had left.

"I thought she was supposed to be hiding out with Harry." a voice whispered, loudly, in the background.

"Shut up, Dennis." Another hissed back, "Why is she falling asleep?"

There had been petty fights during their childhood, over Harry's firebolt, Crookshanks and Scabbers (back when they still believed he was a rat), but he'd always been there in the end. If even Ron left her when she needed him, there seemed to be little that would hold a forty-something ex-Death Eater back from doing the same. Why had she let herself trust Lucius to stay?

Her face was already wet, from mud, blood and tears, so there was little point to wiping the fresh ones away. Instead she let them fall, studiously avoiding making eye contact with either of the new arrivals who were, still, waiting for her to say something. She'd told Lucius they couldn't leave without them, but she had no plan on how she could leave with them. She wondered if Dennis even knew how to apparate, if Collin even knew how to apparate, considering the timing of the ministry's fall. One of them, at least, had to since they'd wound up here.

"Why is she crying?" Dennis asked, sounding a little lost.

"Other than because we're surrounded by snatchers and Death Eaters?" Collin answered, his voice betraying more tension than his younger brother expected.

Her head was spinning, and despite the desperate situation, her eyelids felt so heavy. She allowed them to shut. Just for a second.

"Damn." she heard footsteps rushing towards her, "you need to stay conscious until we get out of this." It was Lucius's voice this time, but he was gone; she'd seen him leave the cabin.

Her eyes snapped open again, confirming it really was him. She smiled, despite everything, closing them again. He hadn't left her.


Lucius cursed himself for allowing the wards to drop for the boys, who were whispering to each other and casting him and Hermione an assortment of suspicious looks. Putting up with an enraged Hermione at a later time would have been more than a fair price to avoid the situation they were in. He wondered why he was urging her to stay conscious, if she wasn't he could apparate her away without worry that she would resist. It might be foolish to try and get out with them in tow, but there was no doubt she would be splinched if he apparated her while she fought him. She'd be out of danger - she'd be dead.

The two mudblood boys were the ones the snatchers were after. He'd gone outside to check how long the four of them had before the wards came down, half expecting they'd already be breached. It was a relief to see the 'Death Eaters' which they'd referred to had been, in fact, only two Death Eaters. Thorfinn Rowle and Theodore Nott. The former was a thug, best known for shooting off Avadas' at anything that moved, while the later was a newly branded Death Eater, who'd failed eight out of his ten NEWTs, only managing an acceptable in Dark Arts and Transfiguration.

It had turned into a bit of a running joke between the older Death Eaters, that Nott Sr had managed to raise the boy to be even more useless than himself. Even in his disgrace, it was something Lucius had taken a certain amount of pleasure from. Theodore didn't appear to know when he was insulted, and was stupid enough to rival even Crabbe and Goyle's offspring. The result was that he'd been partnered with Thorfinn, and the two were left to chase unpromising leads from the ministry's Muggle Born Registration Committee with no expectations of ever accomplishing anything.

Their presence was good. The ministry had absolutely no idea who they'd 'cornered' behind the wards. The group of them would break through eventually, it was inevitable considering the amount of magic they were being pounded with, but they had more time than what he'd expected. At least a few minutes to get away from this place.

He had taken the potion Hermione ingested a few times in the past, when hit with one curse or another. It was the only reason he recognized the thing. He'd been adept enough at school, but any knowledge he'd acquired from Slughorn had long since been forgotten. His current repertoire extended as far as an assortment of poisons, common household potions, veritaserum, dittany, and this one, whose name evaded him, but which was easily recognized by its characteristic foul smell. In addition to its taste and odour, he was rather well acquainted with its side effects, dizziness, nausea, and, most troubling at the moment, drowsiness.

It wasn't the sort of drowsiness you could fight off, either, it was a magically induced sleep. The fact that she was still awake, sort of, had to be a testament to her stubbornness. He looked at the boys again, the bigger one seemed to be constantly teetering on the edge of saying something to him, but then thinking the better of it. He might be amused, if he still wasn't wishing the snatchers had managed to kill them.

The younger one appeared slightly less mistrustful, and so he tossed him Hermione's bag. "She needs invigoration draught and pain relief." with a curt nod, the boy began to search through it. He turned to the older one, "How did you hide this long?"

Collin, as he would learn the boy was called, glared at him. "What's it to you?" he hissed.

Lucius examined at him carefully, annoyed that the boy had been eager to follow Hermione's every whim, but was practically refusing to speak to him. There wasn't time for this. He was so close, too close, to losing his temper and doing something he would regret. Might regret.

"Because," he said, gritting his teeth and taking the offered potions from the younger boy, "Hermione thinks that your life is worth something."

He didn't agree. The rush of hatred and disgust for them, in which he had whole heartedly believed his whole life, came back with a vengeance in their presence and current circumstances. Filthy mudbloods. This horrible situation they were in; it was their fault, it always was. The wards were struck again, and, as before, the power of the spell moved the ground they stood on and the cabin with it.

Gently, terrified he'd hurt her more, he shook Hermione's shoulder, watching her eyes snap open again. "Pain relief," he said, helping guide the potion to her mouth.

He nearly dropped it when the cabin renewed its reverberating only moments after. Fear drained the remaining colour from his face. They needed to leave now.

"We hid in the muggle world." one of them offered while Hermione drank from the second bottle.

"Of course you did." he let out in a breath, attempting to quiet his resentment over that particular answer.

He hated muggles, hated their uselessness and their weakness. That he'd ever acknowledged to himself they might not all be bad...well that was completely besides the point. Now, he was reduced to considering pretending to be one.

It's their fault. His hand tightened around his wand, just for a moment, until he pictured Hermione's stricken face when she heard that awful list and cried, coming to him for comfort. Lucius knew she would cry over these boys as well, whether he killed them or just left them on their own, but she would be nowhere near him when she did so. Injured or not, if he went ahead with either of the more tempting courses of action, he would never see her again.

Lucius tried to catalogue all he knew about muggles, it wasn't much, considering his entire life had been spent trying to know as little about them as possible. Pictures that didn't move, houses that weren't warded, metal boxes that rolled for transportation, trains. Trains. Those, he almost understood.

He looked at the older boy, whose stubbornness might just be the death of them. "No one is keeping you here."

"We aren't leaving you alone with Hermione." the bigger one puffed out his chest.

He heard her suck in a breath, but cut her off before she could answer the implied accusation to him. "If you want to help her, then be helpful." he spat out, stopping himself short of saying anything else.

Behind their words and attempts to paint themselves as brave, the two were lost, confused, and terrified. Half starved and exhausted could also be added to the list. They were scared for their friend, scared of him, and scared of the situation. Looking at them again, he saw why she'd pulled away, refused to abandon them. They were so young. They should be tucked away at Hogwarts, learning how to create a shield spell to block bat-bogey hexes, not running for their lives. They're only mudbloods.

'She's just a Mudblood' he heard the snatcher's voice, and his hand reached out to Hermione's face, wiping off the blood mingled with drying mud on her cheek. He felt sick, though he couldn't begin to fathom why.

Her words from the first day he'd spent with her, when she'd saved him out of misplaced pity, came back to twist a knife in his gut.

'You fought for this, Malfoy. Twice. You fought to eradicate muggle-borns from the wizarding world. You're getting exactly what you wanted so don't you dare, for even an instant, pretend you're any better than that woman!'

His fault. How much of it was, he would probably never know. How much had the Malfoy influence helped create the regime terrorizing the wizarding world? The regime which caused her current state. It's the mudbloods' fault, he thought again.

He'd introduced Severus to the Dark Lord, the man who'd ultimately killed Albus Dumbledore. He'd bribed, threatened, blackmailed, and otherwise manipulated countless ministry officials. Imperiused the ones who wouldn't see things the way they needed to, killed the ones who could be spared.

Trains, he reminded himself.

He didn't bother to ask if either of them could do human transfigurations. It was NEWT level material, and he'd seen them duelling. They were not NEWT level students. Another shudder to the cabin urged him to hurry.

He pulled out his wand, pointing it to Hermione. She stared at him, waiting for what he would do without demanding any sort of explanation. She trusted him, at least to an extent. He wondered how far that trust stretched when she wasn't drugged. He didn't deserve it. Merlin help him, but he did not deserve that look of absolute faith. Was it alright to mix an invigoration draught, pain relief potion, and whatever that damned third one was? He had absolutely no idea. His hand was shaking. Merlin, why was his hand shaking? He was too old for this.

He breathed in, out, counting and emptying his mind. There was no place for the terror he felt in his, admittedly terrible, half formed escape plan. Lucius muttered a string of incantations. Her hair straightened, shortened and lightened, and while anyone who knew her would recognize her, he counted on the fact that those hunting her did not know her by anything except her wanted posters.

It was all he felt safe doing. Lucius wished he remembered if there were any negative effects to transfiguring an injured person. Probably, common sense screamed at him. He changed his own appearance next, growing a dark beard, matching his hair to it. He shortened himself, and cast a finite on his own clothing, which had, originally, been muggle clothes belonging to either Potter or Weasley...he never did ask. He'd lost enough weight from malnutrition over the last couple months that they fit. His stomach nearly revolted at the thought of being dressed like a muggle, but his mind reminded him that there were more important things to worry over.

The brothers were staring at the door, waiting for it to be blasted open any moment. Their own appearances still needed to be altered. He glanced to Hermione who, despite her potion induced haze, appeared to be aware of what was happening around her.

"We'll apparate to King's Cross station, and board a train. They'll trace us as far as the station, but we can lose them there." he looked more pointedly at the newcomers, "I presume one of you is capable of apparating?"

Collin gave a curt nod and a hissed out 'yes'. It caused Lucius breathed out in relief, either over the fact itself, or that they seemed to trust him enough in that moment not to fight him on the subject.

He aged them. It was a relatively simple spell, which had been cast by many a witch and wizard in their youth and eagerness to purchase firewhiskey. Only years later would they become aware that the only distributors who were fooled were those willing to be. It was an easy spell to identify if a person was looking for it, but he could only hope that the snatchers coming after them wouldn't be looking for something so stupid.

A look of alarm crossed their faces as their bodies shifted, and as their hairlines retreated and the lines on their faces became more pronounced. Maybe he should have warned them. Asked them. He couldn't really find it in himself to care all that much.

Before him there were now two sickly middle-aged men, with mousy grey hair, and a decidedly odd looking Hermione whose bleary eyed look and weak nod told him all he needed to know about her current state. Another few spells removed the remaining traces of the fight.

He expected carrying an unconscious woman would draw as much attention in the muggle world as it would in the wizarding one, and Lucius prayed that with the invigoration draught she'd be able to continue fighting the side effects long enough to be seated on the train. She looked precariously close to losing that fight, but the apparition would doubtless jolt her awake for at least a few more minutes.


Through the haze and her confusion, Hermione was very aware of Lucius's arm around her waist, his fingers almost digging into her ribs as he kept her upright and walking. She had no idea how he was able to support as much of her weight as he was, given the constant struggle she knew his knee gave him. He was stronger than she'd given him credit for.

Idly, she wondered if potions expired. If they did, well...her own were likely long bad. That knowledge gap felt like a strange omission of knowledge on her part, but it would explain the reason that the pain potion had done absolutely nothing of what it was promised to.

Still, despite the throbbing in her arm, the shredder that her core felt like it was being shoved through, and Lucius's flinch every time he took a step, they continued to towards platform three. Their train would leave the station in a mere thirty minutes, taking them to God only knew where. She could close her eyes and give in to sleep. That seemed to be the only thing that mattered at the moment, or at least the most important. She knew it wasn't.

The Creevey brothers were not far behind. That was what was important. She would beam at Lucius if she had the strength to. She shouldn't have thought the worst of him, Hermione admonished herself, he wasn't a bad man. She hadn't given him enough credit on that end either.

Altered as they were, the four appeared only as suspicious as the sight of a young woman pressed up tightly to the side of a much older man had to. There were, however, few people whose eyes didn't follow the shabby, strangely dressed men and women that had followed Dennis's trace to their location. She felt safe casting her own looks, her breath hitching when one of them looked straight at her.

Her worst fears were proven unfounded, in that moment, when his gaze glossed over her. He continued to scan the platform for the two teenage wizards he was on alert for. Her sigh of relief came moments before someone bumped her arm, causing her to let out a hiss of pain completely disproportionate to the strength of the hit. The man turned towards her, confused, until his face altered in recognition.

"Granger!" he stumbled backwards, "Get the fuck out of here!"

"Why are you he-" she started to ask the question, but stopped short of finishing the thought. There was only one reason Theodore Nott could be at a muggle train station, and it was not to find a quirky new way to travel.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, already starting to leave while she was dragged away by Lucius, "just…fuck off."

"Theo!" A larger wizard called from a few meters away. "we're leaving. This is a waste of time, those brats aren't worth the effort we're putting in to catch them."

"Sure," he said, walking to the man's side, "Let's go get a drink."

They disapparated on the spot, baffling several muggles in the vicinity. Quickly, too quickly, Hermione thought, the muggle witnesses appeared to shake it off as some byproduct of too much caffeine and too little sleep.

Her heart pounding after the surprising encounter, she let herself be guided to the platform, onto the train, and then to a seat. Theo had either become a Death Eater or a snatcher, although her money was on the former. Now she had to reconcile her quiet Runes and Arithmancy partner, with whom she'd studied for years, as a Death Eater. She swallowed her resentment and decided she wouldn't cry. Not this time, and certainly not over this.

Hermione let herself slump against Lucius, expending her last bit of energy on a smile directed at Dennis and Collin. Their escape was almost too easy, but she could think about that later. For now she would be grateful, and give in to her body's urgent need for sleep.


October 21, 1998

Severus Snape was watching him, again. Since graduation, while in the Headmaster's presence, Theo thought that this had happened far too many times. It felt uncomfortably like he was a bug, being examined in its last moments of life.

The first time he'd noticed, he was certain he was going to be hauled up in front of his new master, called to account for the reasons he'd sabotaged his NEWTs. Snape, who'd graded him with an Outstanding for six years, wasn't fooled by his incompetence act. The man had to know there was something more to it. Inexplicably, he continued to exist mostly undisturbed.

He'd been invisible to anyone who mattered for most of his life, but it had hit him in one astoundingly uncomfortable realization that if his NEWT scores were good, things would be expected of him. He had no intention of following in Draco's footsteps, to be assigned to actual missions and eventually killed as a result, even if he was forced to get the mark. He wasn't about to start spouting equality trash, but he'd never particularly wanted to kill his study partner. Granger did have her uses when they worked together, and he was more than happy to live and let live.

At this meeting, as with the rest, he let his eyes glaze over and ears fall deaf. Theodore could say that he, from the very depth of his soul, did not give a shit what the Dark Lord was droning on about. He expected he would find himself dead for it one day, but if this was going to be the rest of his life, then his drive to make it a long one wasn't particularly powerful.

The meeting ended in a surprisingly dull manner. So much so that he barely noticed the hordes starting to scatter. He was happy to only be subjected to these on a bimonthly basis, being too unimportant to attend anything but the most general and receive anything but the vaguest information.

Theo tensed when someone clapped his arm, but his shoulders slumped again when he realized who it was. His partner at the ministry, and surprising friend.

"We need to get the fuck out of here." Thorfinn muttered, his eyes fixing in the distance.

Theo followed his line of sight to see Parkinson and Dolohov eyeing them with more amusement than was ever healthy. His own father was next to the pair, desperately trying to ingratiate himself in their little clique, like a desperate teenager, instead of the adult he was supposed to be.

It seemed he hoped that with Malfoy gone, his lifelong dream of being included in their group was attainable. He could have told his father it would never happen, if the man stopped to ask. They laughed at his father almost as much as they laughed at him. If that wasn't enough, one just had to consider that those two stuck by Malfoy, to an extent, even after he'd lost all favour. Theo had to admit it was an actual friendship, surprising as that was.

He hoped that the mudbloods, wherever they were, rallied themselves to take care of them now that they'd disposed of Lucius Malfoy. Had the opportunity presented itself on that one, he would have taken it himself.

Theo sneered, and his gaze wandered the crowd before falling back on Snape. That was another one he hoped the Order bastards would take out soon; he wasn't sure how much longer his nerves could deal with the constant threat of being brought in for questioning by the Dark Lord's right hand man.

"See you tomorrow." Theo muttered, not waiting for a response before apparating home.

"Theodore." Snape's voice called out, following a faint pop sound that signalled another apparition behind him.

"What?" he asked, continuing towards the house. His heart was pounding, the memories of seeing Granger at the station, with a man she assumed had to be some disguised version of Potter, swirled at the forefront of his thoughts. That was definitely treason, and would, without a doubt, come out if he was called in to account for his other deception. He was absolutely fucked.

"I think it's time we address your NEWTs." responded his former Potions Professor.

"Right." Theodore swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment to try and regain his composure. With his breathing steadied, he turned to meet the man's eyes.