Draco's face dropped into a look of utter horror as he heard the word's coming out of Hermione's mouth. She had removed the silencing charm in order to let him respond, but now, even though he could speak, he didn't know what to say.

Hermione shifted in her stance, looking slightly impatient and maybe even a bit nervous as she waited.

"Well?" She said, crossing her arms together and peering down at him with wide, expectant eyes.

He looked back at her, seeming now as if he were about to be sick, but instead managed to choke out:

"You must be barking mad."

His face was still twisted in some form of grotesque bewilderment, which she had expected, but it still frustrated her nonetheless. He must know that neither of them wanted this, that he wasn't alone in his feeling of hatred.

"Maybe. But you don't have much of a choice Malfoy, and neither do I for that matter."

He scowled at her. "Thats bullshit Granger. I'd much prefer you killed me."

She inwardly cringed at his statement but didn't pause as she shot him a meaningful look. "I'm not a murderer."

He held his eye contact with her, the unspoken part of that statement obvious to both of them: I'm not a murderer, unlike you.

"Besides" Hermione continued, "Once we find him, the binding curse will be broken, and you can go right back to trying to kill us."

"Right" Draco sneered. "Once it's three against one, sounds like pretty shit odds to me."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "So you know about Ron then?"

Shit. That was a slip up. The less she knew about what he knew, the better. He rolled his eyes, trying to compensate for his mistake. "Yeah well, that blithering idiot never has been one for subtly has he?"

"Don't talk about him like that." She snapped back instantly, her eyes ablaze with a defensive ferocity he faintly recognized.

Draco smirked: "Was that a nerve, Granger?"

Hermione's knuckles were going white around her wand, and he could almost feel the hatred that was pouring out of her. He had to admit, there was something incredibly enticing about it, about the passionate and unadulterated rage he inspired in her, and for a brief moment he remembered just how obsessed he had been with taunting her, back in their school years. It was a strange feeling, to think he could easily slip back into that dynamic, despite all that had happened since.

Hermione broke his train of thought by taking a step closer, in an attempt to be menacing.

"All I have to do is silence you again, Malfoy." She said, matter of factly, her voice coming out low but still shaking slightly with anger.

In an instant, those fleeting thoughts of their shared past were cut short. Because he was here now, in the present, and he wasn't a school boy teasing a girl from his class. He had a purpose, a goal, and failing meant the difference between life and death. And now she was the one in control of that. She was the one with his family's fate in her grubby, muddy hands, and he was trying with all of his might to not admit to himself that in some way he had already failed. The reality of it was oppressive and overwhelming. He also didn't like that she was so close to him, blocking out the sun with her leaning frame and consuming him completely with her presence.

He understood why she had puked, which was probably why he didn't chastise her for it, as he himself was fighting back an ever growing mix of anxiety and nausea within in his stomach.

He looked her in the eyes like this for a moment more, blazing with anger, desperation and discomfort, wishing he could burn through his restraints and finish what he had started at the edge of the woods. He swallowed, and managed to mutter out in a tone of disbelief:

"This can't work."

She seemed as if she hadn't noticed or perhaps was unbothered by the edge of defeat to his statement, barreling on with fiery confidence: "It has to. I need to keep my eye on you Malfoy, at least until we find Harry and Ron, then the three of us will figure out what to do with you. I know its not ideal-"

"Not ideal?" Malfoy said, his voice rising. "It's a complete nightmare! We'll tear each-other limb from limb! Have you even stopped to imagine what it will be like? Sleeping next to a Death Eater every-night, knowing that if I had even the slightest chance I'd-"

"I know what it will be like Malfoy!" Hermione shouted, her face turning a spectacular tone of red as she towered over him, growing visibly more upset by the second.

"Believe me, I would rather be stuck with anyone- anyone else if I could. Just because I won't kill you doesn't mean I don't fucking hate you. So please, for your own sake, don't tempt me into doing something rash!"

There was a sort of exhausted desperation behind her anger, and he tried not to be taken aback by how much she had changed. She was so- unhinged, a decent amount more so than she had been at Hogwarts. There was something raw about the emotion in her eyes, something that told him she had given up on holding back, perhaps long ago.

He noticed briefly that her face too reflected this change; it was more angular, a bit more weatherbeaten, and he realized with a bit of shock, at times even striking.

His lower gut twinged with something other than nausea, but he pushed past it, and lacking a better option decided to coax her rage.

"Tempt you into what? I already know you wont kill me, in fact I'm not sure why you want this at all Granger, does the idea of roaming around the countryside with me excite you? I have to say you're quite the masochist-"

"Thats too far Malfoy"

"Oh please, everyone knows that's how it was with you and those two freaks you're chasing after; tell me, did they at least take turns with you before they got each other off?

"Fuck you" she seethed, directing her wand at him again. "I swear, I'll hex you so cant speak a word for the rest of your natural life."

"Is that right?"

"Yes Malfoy. And for your information, you were the one that attacked me, you forced my hand and I beat you, thats why we're here."

He scoffed: "Oh fuck off you precocious cunt."

"No you can fuck off you foul, arrogant piece of shit! Don't you get it? I won, and now you're completely fucked. I decide where this goes, not you. And if this is what its going to be like then yes, I will absolutely hex you so you can't speak, or even move if I bloody have to! So you might consider shutting your God awful mouth every-once in a while!" She let out a humorless, breathy laugh, her voice rising in tempo. "Honestly I can't even imagine whats going on in your fucked up head that makes you say the stupid shit you say, but I hope whatever it is it torments you, I hope you're at least aware of what a truly miserable, loathsome-"

"For fucks sake, alright then."

Hermione stopped mid sentence: "I- What?"

"Save me your little power trip, I've got the gist of it." He sneered.

Then, he added: "I'll do it alright? Your stupid fucking plan, I'll do it."

She stared at him in shock.

He ground his teeth, still glaring up at her. "Like you said, I don't have much of a choice. You're forcing me."

She was stuck in stunned silence. She hadn't expected him to say simply yes. In fact, she had rather prepared for him to say no, and now the ramifications of her own plan seemed to dawn on her. How could she possibly do this? How could she possibly exist alongside Malfoy, for however long it was until she could ensure Ron and Harry's safety? She wasn't even close to finding them, and now she would have to continue the journey alongside her sworn enemy. She tried to swallow down her panic, knowing it would do her no good, but she could feel it nonetheless, gripping her insides and rising up to her throat with each breath she took.

She had to do something, and she knew this was most likely her only option; because above all, she had to protect her friends.

Malfoy had been waiting agitatedly for her to respond, and now finally he spoke up.

"Well you'll have to get this off me won't you?" He said, gesturing to the black chords.

"Not necessarily, no." she said, taking a deep breath as she slowly returned to reality. She had to do this. There was no other option.

His face twisted in confusion: "You'll need my arm if we're using the unbreakable vow."

That helped clear her head. "I'm not using that hideous curse, there are other binding spells that are just as effective. Besides, you'd need your wand back for that Malfoy, I'm not an idiot."

He shrugged slightly: "Worth a shot. So what were you planning on then?"

"Well," she said, racking her mind for options. "Most of the ones i've heard of are quite violent, and we can't do one of those trade off curses so, I suppose I was thinking more along the lines of a longterm distancing spell."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Great, that's just about the absolute worst thing you could do to either of us."

"I am forcing you though remember?" She shot back, her temper quickly rising again. She tried to quell it, taking another forced breath and squaring him up. Unfortunately, it would be easier to set the spell if she removed the initial curse.

"Right, I suppose I will take the ropes off now, please don't be stupid enough to try anything."

She lifted her wand, a little nervous that he would make a run at her, but holding herself as steady as possible, she spoke the incantation. Slowly, the black coils began to loosen and slide across Malfoy, one end lazily lifting into the air and drifting its way back towards Hermione's wand, the rest following suit.

Draco stood, rubbing his shoulders and giving her an icy glare. Merlin he was quite tall. He took a step towards her and she immediately felt the urge to take a step back. She wasn't frightened of him, just very cautious.

Even so, she forced herself to move slowly towards him too, her wand clenched firmly in her hand and pointing at him.

They stopped about three feet away from each-other, both tense and unblinking.

"Get on with it." Malfoy spat out.

"Alright, stay still."

.

.

The two were silently staring at one another as the spell slowly receded; the once electric blue light that manifested between them subsiding to a faint sky color, before dispersing completely.

"I think that should do it." Hermione said, taking a step back and ending the silence.

"Wonderful." He sneered, not breaking eye contact with her.

She ignored him. "We'll have to test it of course. Just stay there for a moment will you?"

He scowled at her demand but stood still nonetheless, looking as if he were itching to defy her. He hated that he was forced into being compliant, docile, even.

Hermione had turned and was walking swiftly away from him, glancing behind her every other step to make sure he didn't run. If she had been successful, she would be forced to halt by the perimeters of her own spell. She took several more paces, feeling a little concerned and considering that maybe it hadn't worked; after all, this was her fist attempt at a binding spell, which were particularly complex.

She didn't have to doubt herself for long though, as six yards into her journey she abruptly stopped in her tracks, a wave of warm magic pulling her back. She turned to look head on at Malfoy, and saw the faint vibrating blue between them. She felt it forcing her to take a step towards him, and once she had, it relaxed, then dissipated just like before.

"Would you take a step or so back?" She called out to him, a little excited to see that it seemed to work.

She could see him tensing up at her words, his lip twitching as he fought to say something crude. Instead, to her slight surprise, he obeyed her without a retort, taking one long stride back from her.

The blue light of the spell began to faintly hum again, pulling him forward with a bit of a jolt, then fading a moment later.

She couldn't help but grin slightly, feeling satisfied with her success. Malfoy on the other hand was shooting daggers her way with that piercing stare of his, and the intensity of it sobered her, reminded her that now there was no escaping the physical tie between them, which sealed in their fate as unwilling companions.

The sun was beginning to fade and Hermione realized just how much time they had taken. She nervously stepped closer to him. "We should get going. I'll start to take down the protective enchantments, but we'll have to move quickly once they're gone."

"Whatever, mudblood." He said, his words dripping with venom.

.

.

When Hermione first devised the plan, she hadn't exactly imagined how they would handle the sleeping arrangements. Now, as she set up camp in the woods, with Malfoy slumped a few yards away, the subject seemed utterly unapproachable. She knew that bringing it up would signify both the permanence and extreme awkwardness of their situation, and she wished desperately that she could skip it altogether. But she couldn't.

So, as she silently went about setting up wards and extracting her supplies, she unconsciously glanced over at him time and time again, wondering just how she should broach the touchy subject.

He seemed to not notice her, or otherwise was intentionally trying to drown her out, his face buried in the limp pages of an old and tattered journal. She eyed it curiously before glancing away as he shifted.

Less than a minute later and all of her things were in place, the clattering and shuffling dying down to an eerie silence.

"Well, thats everything." She said after a moment.

He didn't react in the slightest to her words, which she wouldn't have necessarily minded; she much preferred his silence to his tireless bickering. However, she would need more effort from him in the moments they were forced to communicate, which unfortunately was now.

She turned to look at him, which he also ignored. As Hermione thought of what to say, she noticed briefly that he had pushed his sleeves past his elbows, and involuntarily her eyes appraised the width of his exposed forearm.

After staring for an uncomfortable moment she gracelessly blurted out: "I have two cots."

Malfoy lifted his head from the ratty book, meeting her gaze with his lip curled up. "Alright."

She felt both anger and embarrassment rise to her face with equal force: "I suppose I could elongate the tent if you- if you want me to set one up for you." She cringed as the words came out; the mere idea of sleeping in the same space as Malfoy was utterly mortifying.

His face grew significantly angrier: "Are you fucking joking?"

"I was just offering Malfoy" She said, glaring at him.

"Why?" He replied, both furious and bewildered.

She felt her skin become even hotter, and she clenched her fist as she spoke: "Fine. Sleep outside then, I would certainly prefer it. But I'm not going out of my way to set up extra wards for you, so if it rains you can just fucking deal with it."

With that she turned and stormed into the tent, flicking her wand so that the canvas entryway flapped closed behind her. Once inside she fumed, taking deep breaths to calm her stirring mind. The hate she felt for him was such a consuming emotion, it was almost vertigo inducing in its extremity; she felt as if she could topple over in the heat of it if she wasn't careful.

She steadied herself against the table in the center of the room, and looked over the few items scattered about: the simple cot, the soft glowing of the lamp and the outline of her books, the radio, and a couple cans of food. The simplicity of the scene helped her return to herself, and to reality. After losing Harry and Ron the whole set up had felt swollen with their absence, the emptiness a greedy force that consumed their once shared space every time she entered it. And now she had to admit, that some of those feelings were gone. Though the tent still seemed rather desolate, it had become a sort of refuge once again; a space away from Malfoy.

And then there was something else too. As much as she hated the thought, she had to consider that perhaps this feeling was simply a result of someone else's presence, another moving, breathing person, being so close to her, even if it was a death eater. His company was a cruel stroke of fate, but she realized faintly that it somehow overrode that terrible ache of loneliness she felt.

A deep pang of nervous guilt shot through her chest like a bolt of lightning, and her mind began to panic again.

Surely she wasn't reveling in this situation- it was simply, a distraction. Yes, that's what it was. She was distracted, by the stress of it all, and by her overwhelming dislike for him; it was enough of a diversion to push all other thoughts from her head. What she felt wasn't a reprieve from the loneliness, it was the blinding passion of hatred taking her away from everything else. Which, in her mind, was even more insidious, because it meant she couldn't focus.

She moved shakily over to her books, standing next to them and just staring down. That surreal disbelief began to smother her once more, and she felt her lip twitch in stress.

She shouldn't let herself be distracted, not even by this. She should keep studying, ignore him, like he's nothing. But as she brushed her thumb across the leather binding of one of her books, she couldn't seem to muster the resolve. It somehow seemed wrong for her to be settling so quickly back into her routine, with Draco Malfoy just outside her tent. She turned her head back to the entrance, listening for any sounds from the other wizard.

After a moment of silence, she chewed her lip, considering what her next move should be. She really didn't want to talk to him anymore than was absolutely necessary, and she certainly had no desire to check on his wellbeing. But him being her captive, for lack of a better word, meant that she did have certain responsibilities considering his physical state.

Should she ask him if he'd eaten?

She practically laughed out loud when this thought passed through her mind. It seemed so ridiculous to her, that she would even be considering that question. For now she would ignore it. He'd live until the morning.

She grabbed the book she had been tracing lines over and sat on her cot, still jumpy but trying to calm herself. She definitely wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, but maybe she could at least use the time to think out the kinks of her plan, or even just try to fathom how in the hell she was going to pull it all off.

But as she lay there, trying with all of her might to organize her thoughts, her brain seemed to short circuit over and over again, and rather than thinking logically she was forced into feeling every conflicting emotion that flooded her system. And it didn't help that she constantly reverted to mulling over the suffocating distance between them, thinking repetitively of the fact that he was out there, right now, so close to her, and that he would continue to be, probably for weeks.

It was utterly daunting to think that all she had to work with were those six yards, and she knew she would take full advantage of the little space they afforded her, even if it felt like it wasn't nearly enough, like they could be on opposite ends of the world from each other and it still wouldn't be enough.

Yet, at some point she had come realize that despite it all, those six yards were somehow fitting. Six yards; one for each year of hatred that lingered between them.

And as much as Hermione didn't want to, she remembered each of those years with disturbing clarity, every moment that had led up until now; the growth of Malfoy's searing hatred catalogued forever in her mind. The second she had seen him it had been as if the wound was still fresh, as if despite who they were now and how much they had changed, that vile history would always exist between them.

Now, in the corner of her tent, with her childhood tormentor sleeping a few yards away from her, she felt as if it had just been the other day- when the two of them had been back at Hogwarts together, and their hatred of one another had first begun to play out.