Author's Note: I promise that the identity of her protector will be revealed very soon... like within the next week or two. ;)


January 27th

Remaining in Wales was no longer possible. As much as she hated to do so, Hermione gave up on her foolish dream that she could somehow figure out a way to stay in the neutral region in peace. She wandered around the city for over a day trying to make some kind of sense of her next move. Left with no other options, she knew she would have to leave.

It was something of a miracle that she hadn't been caught by Antonin or any of the other Death Eaters while she stayed in the same place for so long. In all of the months since she'd been on the run, she hadn't remained in one spot for more than a couple of days. Not even London where it was very easy to slip in amongst the Muggles to hide when necessary.

Draco Malfoy actually seeking her out and taking the time to help her was another miracle. Her thoughts hadn't been far from their nighttime meeting in the garden since it occurred. She didn't trust him. No matter what he said or did, she wasn't sure she ever would. He still represented the life she was desperate to leave behind. She couldn't afford to humanize him. He was every bit as much a monster as the rest of them, herself included.

She found a train station and bought a ticket back to London with most of what little money she had remaining. Enough time had passed since her last visit that she didn't think anyone would be expecting her there. Traveling further than the capital city was ideal, but she needed a plan first. Once back in the city she would figure out what to do next.

Her entire life had become just a series of short-term plans, each less effective than the last. Without money or allies, she wouldn't be able to keep up the pace she was at for much longer. The better part of a year had passed on the run. It was better than most. She'd lost count the number of Death Eaters, both new recruits and veterans, that had lost heart over the years and been tempted to do what she was doing. Most were caught within a matter of days. At least she could take some comfort in the knowledge that she'd been somewhat successful where others had failed.

During her train ride back to London, she considered her options again. Fleeing the country would always be her best bet. She'd tried the hiding within the borders of the country until they gave up looking for her, but that clearly hadn't worked. Almost nine months had passed since she first ran and Antonin was still determined to catch her and do what exactly? Drag her back to the Dark Lord to face her punishment? Kill her in inventive and painful ways? Force her to return to the family she abandoned? None of them sounded enjoyable. The possibility was always present that he had plans for her she hadn't imagined yet. That filled her with more dread than anything else.

If she had her wish, she would return to France. Back to the small house where she spent the best weeks of her life. It felt a lifetime ago, but she would never forget that short respite from the horror her existence had become. More than a few times she voiced her desire to her companion to freeze time and stay right there with him in that moment forever. And she'd actually meant it. Nothing about her life, before or since, had been as wonderful.

They were in France theoretically conducting an investigation to uncover a pocket of Resistance members that had fled the country. The Dark Lord didn't want any of his subjects to run away from him. It was an important mission that she took quite seriously at first. Some of the Resistance were former Dumbledore's Army members. She wanted to prove to them that there was a place for them back home. If she, 'Harry Potter's Mudblood', could find favor with the new regime, it was possible for each of them to as well. Too many had already been killed or publicly executed. Hermione wanted nothing more than to save them from the same fate.

It was the first opportunity she had to prove her worth without Antonin breathing down her neck. All previous triumphs had been credited to him because of his guidance and leadership. She wanted to show her master, the Dark Lord, that she had been trained well, that the rumors stating she was only playing a part to stay alive weren't true.

When the Death Eaters assigned to go to France assembled for the first time to take the portkey to their destination, she'd been annoyed to see her protector was one of the chosen. The bold manner in which he smiled at her as they grasped the old tin can with Allie, Ron, and three other new recruits angered her more than it flattered. If his plan was to distract her while they had work to do, he was going to be severely disappointed. She leveled him with a glare that made it clear she was there to work.

He'd been on his best behavior for the first three days. Not once did he make an inappropriate remark or even look at her with anything less than complete professionalism. If he made certain that he was always closest to her when they clashed with the foolish Resistance, he didn't make a big show of it. On the third night after they all shared a bottle of fire whiskey to celebrate the capture or death of those they were seeking, Hermione snuck away from the fire. As pleased as she was that she'd accomplished her mission, knowing that she had been forced to thrash people who had once been on her side hadn't sat well with her conscience. She stood in the secluded French countryside looking up at the bright and beautiful stars allowing her mind to wander to thoughts better left unthought.

"Wandering off on your own is a good way to get yourself killed."

Perhaps his words came from a place of actual concern, but Hermione didn't want to hear them. She hadn't truly been alone for longer than a few minutes in years. Every moment of her life was planned, scripted, manipulated. Beyond just the Dark Lord and her teacher, she had countless others who felt it was their mission to make certain that she wasn't doing anything she shouldn't be. Death Eaters and those that supported them were a suspicious lot. No matter what she did, no matter how many of their enemies she subdued, they didn't trust her. There was always the assumption that she would eventually betray them all. Maybe they were right.

"I needed a few minutes to breathe… alone."

Instead of being offended by her obvious desire that he leave her in peace, her protector chuckled. It annoyed her that she found the sound pleasing. Even as far removed from the broom cupboard in Hogwarts as possible, she was still taken back to the days, weeks he kept guard outside her door. Without him, there was simply no way to know what might have happened to her in those first chaotic days of the new regime. Likely exactly what happened to most of the other witches even suspected of aiding the enemies. Just the thought sent a chill up her spine.

He moved to stand directly behind her as she continued to stare up at the stars. Fearing that she was shivering because of the chilly night air, the wizard enveloped her in his arms, covering them both with the heavy fabric of his cloak. She considered pushing him away, telling him to go back to their comrades, but that was the furthest desire of her heart. Leaning back against his chest, she sighed when his lips kissed the top of her head.

There had been no other kisses up until that point beyond polite, chaste ones to her cheek in greetings or farewells. Though it was certainly never stated outright, Hermione knew there was a mild jealousy on Antonin's part where he was concerned. In all of the time that she lived in her teacher's home learning everything he had to teach her, he'd never once made demands on her body. Not even when it was clear he would not only not kick her out of his bed, but gladly welcome her into it. The frequency with which her protector and friend casually dropped by Antonin's house to sip tea in the kitchen with his prized student was an annoyance he didn't try to hide. To offer the proper amount of respect due the master of the house, there had been nothing beyond the most innocent of touches.

Even though she carried the Mark of the Dark Lord on her own arm and it had been placed there by her choice, she continued to find it odd that the dangerous men she surrounded herself with had the capacity for more than just violence and degradation. Years locked up in Azkaban hadn't even dulled their most inane human appetites. Were they all simply moving through life desiring nothing more than just the opportunity to connect on a deeper level with another? She remembered believing anyone who would even consider becoming a Death Eater must have had no soul and only an appetite for mayhem. Understanding that no one was wholly good or wholly evil was still a concept she struggled with.

"We don't have to go back tomorrow with the others. They can take the prisoners on their own."

"Why would we stay?"

She suspected she knew the answer before he even had a chance to say it, but she wanted to be certain. Wanted him to actually say the words they'd only danced around in the past. His arms loosened their hold on her body. She lamented the loss instantly. When he placed his hands on her shoulders and carefully spun her in place so that she was facing him, she could feel her heart rate increase. The light of the moon illuminated his eyes just enough for her to see how dark they'd become.

Their first kiss was startling and exhilarating all at once. With perfect confidence that she wouldn't push him away, he placed his hands on her upper back and pulled her closer to his lean chest. His lips were soft, never demanding. The level of restraint that he was showing was nothing less than remarkable. She could feel how much he wanted her in just the touch of his hands. He ended the kiss long before she was ready. Staring down at her with a smirk she longed to feel against her mouth, he answered.

"To be completely alone, of course."

As he moved to resume their affectionate act, Hermione was startled awake by the sudden lurch of the stopping train. She'd arrived in London. All thoughts of her past were pushed to the back of her mind. She didn't have the luxury to revel in memories. Not yet. Not when her present was still so uncertain.