A/N: Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

Relatively short chapter this time.

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Chapter 29

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The Hunted

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We ducked into a dark alley to change our clothes. After realizing that the dress robes would not—could not—fit inside the pouch, I stuffed them unceremoniously into the garbage bin. Fleur would have to do without the dress. A crowded night market was in full swing a few streets away. We could hear the exotic sound of the zither from where we stood.

"So," Draco said, pulling on a pair of jeans, "where are we?"

An old Asian woman was hurrying a little boy across the street. She'd apparently seen Draco undressing.

"Chinatown," I pursed my lips. "Assuming we're still in the country."

"You're kidding, right?"

I shook my head. My curly hair fell wildly down my back. Draco let out a stream of curse words that would make even a sailor cringe. The effects of the potion had worn off, and we looked more like ourselves again.

I bit my lip. We were so exposed.

"Hey," he said more gently, "Danny's with Tonks. She'll make sure nothing happens to him."

"Yeah," I said dryly. "We have to get out of the open—without magic. I don't know exactly how this Trace works, but I've still got it on me."

He stuck his wand into his pocket and slipped his hand into mine. "D'you have much of that Pertorqueo Potion left?"

I nodded. "It's a different batch, though, so we'll look different from the wedding."

"All the better."

We each took a sip, and I watched as Draco's blonde hair turned brown. His nose flattened against his face, and his eyes turned an eerie shade of black. His hand widened in mine, and my fingers shrunk in his. He shrunk about a foot, but this time, his shoulders did not pack on muscles. I felt my jeans stretch to accommodate fleshier thighs, and my face stretch over a squarer jaw. My hair blew across my face, straight and blonde. I pushed it away.

"You've got a button nose," Draco said in a raspy way.

I groaned. My voice rose a pitch. "I don't like this potion anymore."

"Pseudonyms," he whispered. "Just to get into an inn. And money. Have you got Muggle money?"

I rolled my eyes. "Bonnie and Clyde?"

"Bonnie and who?"

I sighed. "One day, I am educating you on Muggle culture—and we've no need for pseudo-names. What is this, a Bond movie? We'll just rent a room in a motel."

We crossed the street, and Draco gawked at the use of Muggle signs. The neon signs caught his followed the zither's sound into the market where Chinese peddlers hawked their goods as we walked passed. Jade hair pins and golden rings glittered under the lights; the waft of ducks hanging from metal rungs invited us to dine; little acrobats jumped out at us from their stages.

A dingy motel sat unimposing at the corner, surrounded by the market on all sides. I pulled Draco up its steps, and into the quiet lobby.

"Hi," I smiled at the receptionist. Her dark eyeliner was smudged across her eyelids.

"Wha you want?" she snapped.

"A room," Draco said, putting an arm around me. "For three nights, maybe."

The receptionist gave us an appraising look before handing us a key. "Ten pown one naih, okay?"

I took the key and paid up front.

"Yoh room, ter flooh, on da rai."

"What?" Draco hissed.

"Our room," I whispered. "Third floor, on the right."

"Blimey," he said, shaking his head. "I've never been in this part of town."

"Pure-blood," I smirked. He shoved me playfully.

We ascended the wooden staircase, the steps creaking beneath our feet. On the third floor, we passed ten noisy bedrooms before we found ours. The walls were thin, and we could hear the sensual sounds from the other rooms. Draco blushed.

"Are you sure this is decent?" he asked, "I feel like we're invading their privacy."

I laughed. "This is where people go for, er, pleasure."

"Like a brothel?"

"Yes," I smirked. "Something like that."

Draco looked scandalized. "Why have you brought me here?"

I laughed. He joined me. For a moment, we forgot that Voldemort was after us. Our mirth filled the room and drowned out the groans and moans of the neighboring rooms. We were different people—ourselves trapped in stranger's bodies. We were alone and we were happy. The moment passed as quickly as it came.

There was only one bed, so we lay on it together, our bodies barely touching in the darkness. Worry and panic began to gnaw at us as we lay there, staring at the bare ceiling that had its plaster falling with every creak from upstairs.

It did feel like we were invading other's privacy. They sounded like they were up to indecent escapades beyond our four walls. By the morning, we'd barely slept, and since breakfast out was not an option, Draco headed to a Chinese bakery across the street and we ate in our room.

"Remind me why Muggles use inns as pleasure houses, please," Draco picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks.

"It's not just Muggles, Draco," I shrugged. "I'm sure wizards do too."

His face paled. "No."

"Yes," I smirked. "Just because you were sheltered, it doesn't mean everyone else was too."

He shook his head. "So have you ever…You know…?"

"Draco," I laughed. "You were my first kiss, how could I have? My brother has, though. Henry. He's…Well, he's gone now…"

"What was he like?" Draco asked casually.

I bit at my pork bun and chewed, thinking hard. "He was always considerate of others, but he had a bit of a rebellious streak when we'd moved from America."

"I would too," Draco shrugged. "British pride and all that."

We spent the day sleeping after that, afraid the night's indecencies would keep us from doing so. Cato had arrived shortly before dusk, and we let him into the room. He hooted with delight when Draco passed him a treat, and fell fast asleep soon after.

I hadn't seen him for days, so I suppose he'd been on a long journey. Cato's presence was comforting. He was like a resilient warrior throughout the years, never yielding to the strife life might bring. Draco and I decided to let him sleep. We took another dose of Pertorqueo Potion, and headed to the night market at nine. The peddlers were back, and they seemed to call out more loudly than before.

We lurked in stalls, examining exquisite jewelry boxes and porcelain jars.

"Buy heah! Berry Cheap!" a charming old lady called out from a stall. She was dressed in a red high-collared dress, with a provocative slit coming up to her thigh. Her sleeves were loose around her arms, and her hands disappeared in them. She grinned at us, her tongue visible through the gaps in her teeth.

A single sword hung over her stall, and it seemed like she sold nothing else.

"Rhuton," she said in a voice softer than a whisper.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Rhuton," she repeated, a little louder this time. "Name of sohd from China. Only ting I sell."

"What's so special about it?" Draco asked, glaring warily at the vendor.

"It magic," her eyes gleamed. "Glow blue."

"It glows blue?" I frowned. "Well, you can make anything glow blue these days."

"Two Galleon," the hunched old lady smiled.

Draco stared at her in surprise.

"Sorry, what?"

"Two Galleon," she whispered. "I see wand stick out yoh pockeh. Nat too clevah, In futuh, put ahp sleef."

She lifted her long sleeve to reveal a wand.

"Ministry fall," she said in a lower tone, leaning in towards us, "Todeh, Daily Prophet say samting about Dreamahs. You be cahful, Jane."

I looked at her in surprise.

"How do you know my name?" I asked slowly.

"Yoh eyes—different. Not like any. Legend say you cam heah."

"What else does legend say?" I asked. Draco gripped my hand tightly.

"Chinese have legend. Dreamahs cam befoh. Dey cam and dey go. Sohd only ting left behaind. Legend say dey cam again. Sohd make dem go. I not sell it foh two Galleon. I give to you—only if it glow blue when you tahch."

The old lady stood straight and removed the sword from its glass case.

"Jane, I don't think this is such a good idea."

"This coming from the man who suggested pseudonyms. Besides, it might not glow blue when I touch it, in which case, she'll probably ask us to leave."

When the Chinese elder handed me the sword's gold hilt, however, the blade gleamed the kind of blue Alice's eyes had been—soft and light. The old woman smiled widely and slid the sword in its sheath.

"Gahdspeed, Jane Kingsleigh."

The old lady let go of the sword and Disapparated on the spot. Draco pulled me back to the motel.

"Come on," he said.

We pushed our way through the crowded street until we faced the motel. Something was odd about the place. I lowered the sword into my pouch, and we ascended the steps to our room. The landlady's body lay collapsed outside our door. She was most certainly dead. The door itself was covered in blood, and Cato's body lay broken next to the landlady. I let out a sharp breath. Pain filled my chest. There was blood on Cato's beak, as if he'd been pecking someone before he'd died.

Draco drew his wand and pushed open the door. There was no one inside, but the room had been ransacked. The mattress was torn open. The wardrobe flung to the ground. I clung to Draco's arm, fear gripped us both.

On the wall, the words 'WE WILL FIND YOU' were written in blood. A copy of the Daily Prophet was pegged underneath the message. Harry's face was tacked as 'Undesirable No. 1,' and I was 'Undesirable No. 2' a fugitive Dreamer wanted, among other things, for Draco's alleged kidnapping.

"Death Eaters, you reckon?" Draco surveyed the room.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Whoever it was, we have to go. Now."

In three hours, I would turn seventeen, and the Trace would be off me. Until then, however, Draco and I had to rely on Muggle means of transport.

"The train?" he asked as we weaved through the crowd once again.

"No," I replied. "The Tube is underground. There's no escape route."

"Er, taxi?"

We were right in the middle of the night market, and the street was tight.

"Have you not read Sherlock Holmes? A Study in Scarlet?"

"Sherlock who?"

I shook my head incredulously. "When things settle down, I'm getting you into a Muggle library."

"Can we please focus on the task at hand? Our lives are on the line here."

We ducked into a side street and walked briskly to the main road.

"Give me a few hours, will you? Just let me turn seventeen!"

"We haven't exactly got three hours."

"Just give me a minute to think, then!"

I stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, causing the pedestrians behind me to curse at liberty. I muttered an apology before sinking myself into my own mind.

A way out.

There must be one.

One place Voldemort would not think to look.

Somewhere…

I checked my watch.

It read 'time to change direction.'

What did that mean?

The enchanted compass 'round my neck began to hum. I pocketed my watch and opened the latch of my compass. It was not pointing north, as usual, but it was pointing…Somewhere…After a flurry of whizzing and turning, the arrow stopped. It was pointed directly at me.

"Jane!" Draco pulled my arm fiercely as a streak of light passed the place I'd been standing. Draco cursed.

We spun to find two men in wizarding robes coming directly at us. The potion was no longer in effect, leaving us completely exposed.

"Don't draw your wand. That's exactly what they'll make you do—the Trace will activate, and all the Death Eaters will be here in minutes."

Two unfortunate Muggles were caught in the crossfire. One screamed. A woman fell to the ground, hit by a menacing green jet of light.

"So I'm just going to dodge hexes?"

"That's the idea," Draco said, aiming a spell at the stouter wizard. The stout wizard stumbled out of the way. "Pay attention, then."

"So much for international secrecy," I muttered, dodging the other wizard's Stupefying spell.

"For some reason, I doubt 'secrecy' is much of a priority anymore—Petrificus Totalus!" Draco yelled in response.

The other wizard went rigid and collapsed to the ground. Mr Stout aimed another curse at Draco, who missed it by half an inch. A storefront window exploded behind him. Another jet of red erupted from Draco's wand, hitting Mr Stout squarely in the chest. He landed on his friend's body.

"Right," Draco looked around. "Better deal with the damage first."

He repaired the storefront window with a flick of his wand, and put the sidewalk in order before wiping the Muggle's memories.

"What do we do with them?" Draco kicked Mr Stout's foot.

"Best replace their memories—send them on a wild goose chase."

"Alright," Draco pointed his wand at the stout wizard. "What kind of memory are we talking about?"

"Something Voldemort would be furious at. Something he would be too angry or happy to probe them for."

"I've got an idea."

"This involves the motel, doesn't it?"

"You-Know-Who has always been a fan of Muggle hunting. I suppose he'd be delighted to find his followers torturing a few souls in a brothel."

"Alright, then," I shrugged. "Do your worst."

Draco pursed his lips and grit his teeth in concentration. He did the stout one first, then the taller one. I didn't like to think about what kind of memories he was implanting in their minds, but I did hope he would not take a liking to it. He seriously needed to find a better outlet for his violence.

"Well, that's done," Draco said as the Big Ben chimed for midnight. "Come on, I'll lift the spell and we can Disapparate out of here."

I took his hand, and we turned on the spot, just as the two wizards were stirring from their sleep.

The compressing darkness relented, and I opened my eyes. We stood in a great field, somewhere near the sea. The salty breeze brought in the eye-stinging mist, and we were drenched in minutes.

"Where are we?"

"Fleetwood, Lancashire," he replied dryly.

"Why here?"

"In a 1385 Quidditch match, the Lancashire team lost so badly to Cork that their own fans chased them out of town."

I laughed. "I thought you hated Quidditch?"

"It's useful to know," he smirked. "Happy birthday, Jane."

When he kissed me, I could taste the salty sea on his lips. The flavour was probably on mine too. We stood entangled in each other's arms until the sun rose over the horizon, half-hoping last night's skirmish never happened. The sun, however, reminded us of all the work that lay ahead. There was no time for wishing.