A/N: Hello! I hope this chapter isn't terribly dull. Things are going to get rather interesting very soon though, I promise. I just got discharged from another week in an inpatient facility and it gave me a lot of plotting and writing time! :)

I can't wait to hear all you thoughts. Your reviews and messages some of my favourite parts of writing.

Trigger warnings: Anxiety symptoms, mentioned torture

"Do you suppose we should keep this?"

"I'm not sure a shopping trolley will be very helpful, do you?"

Narcissa shrugged. "It could be transfigured into something useful."

"I'd rather not take on any superfluous supplies," Hermione grunted as she adjusted the strap on her bag which crossed across her chest. "We should have everything we need in here." She patted the bag on her hip which betrayed no sign of being a hundred times larger on the inside. Thankfully for Hermione's shoulder, it didn't weigh more than a small purse ought to.

Hermione looked up to Narcissa and met her gaze with a jolting silence. They were ready now. There was nothing more to be done here, in the realm of the civilised. It was time to return to the warzone. It was very clear now that Hermione didn't want that; she'd much rather spend her time doing frivolous activities like shopping for camping supplies and educating Narcissa about Muggle life. The realisation was paralysing.

"We should move somewhere else before we apparate so we can't be tracked," suggested Hermione and she was relieved when Narcissa nodded in agreement and guided them through the concrete corridors until they slipped back into the public part of the shop. As they made their way through the aisles, Hermione felt her hands grow clammy and her heart beat harder. It was frustrating that the idea of leaving the Muggle world was frightening. She was a witch. She'd devoted her life to proving that she was equal to those of purely magical blood, yet here she was, quivering at the idea of returning to the culture which had been her home since she was eleven years old.

The rational part of her mind pointed out that wishing to stay in the society that wasn't experiencing civil war wasn't exactly illogical or cowardly, but it didn't alleviate her anxiety much. Hermione worked hard not to outwardly betray any sign of her internal conflict as she followed Narcissa down the footpath. They strolled a few blocks until Narcissa glided between two buildings and discretely scurried down a dark alley. Following, Hermione dug her fingernails into the flesh of her palm to force herself to focus on the upcoming task of apparition; she wasn't keen on splinching herself.

"I think this should do," Narcissa whispered in the shadows against the concrete. Hermione nodded, trying to ignore the way the rough, grey walls mimicked the appearance of her cell.

"I agree."

For a moment, they looked at each other, once again confused as to how to transition to the next step. Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again, then finally spoke.

"I have an idea about where we should go, but I'm not sure if it's the best one." That sentence sounded remarkably stupid and Hermione wanted to kick herself for it.

"Explain," coaxed Narcissa.

Hermione sighed. "Before I left, Harry and Ron and I were migrating around a forest I used to spend time in as a child. I know the area well and we seemed to be safe there, but then again it's entirely possible that Death Eaters are aware of this and that they now occupy the wood."

Narcissa's lips pursed as Hermione impatiently awaited her response. After an aggravating moment, the older woman mused, "I have no better alternative. Do you?" Hermione shook her head and Narcissa held out her arm. "Well then, lead the way."

Hermione nodded dumbly and hooked her elbow around Narcissa's. To her surprise, Narcissa slid out of her hold and instead moved her arm to wrap around Hermione's waist. At Hermione's questioning glance, she merely answered, "You are unwell; I doubt a turbulent apparition will do either of us much good." Hermione couldn't deny the logic and allowed her own arm to creep around Narcissa's back. She felt warm and for a moment Hermione's breath was taken away by the comfort of being so close to another.

Her eyes drifted shut and Hermione expelled a deep breath, allowing the tension in her muscles to exit with the air. She wandered back through her memories, past the quarrels between the boys and herself and the times they choked on rationed tea from laughing so hard. Her heart quickly began to ache and she rushed on, until she felt herself settle into the memory of the night watch in early March. At that particular sight, there was a beautiful tree whose trunk was ideally designed for leaning against. As Hermione sat there, encircled by the twisted roots, she was protected from sight by the cluster of bushes surrounding her. She knew that Ron despised having to stay up all night with his thoughts for company, but Hermione and Harry were more appreciative of the silence and solitude. She often brought a book or some parchment with her to guide her thoughts when she felt lost and by the time the sunlight crept through the branches, Hermione had reached an almost ethereal sense of peace.

With a harsh snap, Hermione felt the violent tug of apparition in her abdomen and she squeezed Narcissa tightly. As they were contorted through space, she felt Narcissa's arm hold her impossibly nearer.

Hermione's rough grunts were echoed by Narcissa's yelps as they landed rather ungracefully on the grassy, uneven ground. Stumbling, Hermione braced herself against the tree trunk and sank to her knees. Her jeans quickly became soaked but Hermione didn't mind; it soothed the nausea and dizziness. Though the world was still spinning, Hermione opened her eyes and aimed her wand at the sky. "Homenum Revelio," she spluttered. When the spell returned negative, she sighed in relief and sank down to all fours.

As her wand hand pressed against the ground, Hermione immediately felt a sting move its way across her palm. She pulled her hand up for inspection, panicking, and found four curved cuts staring back at her. They glistened scarlet with unshed blood and the dirt clinging to the severed skin's border was concerning.

For a moment, Hermione was utterly puzzled. Then in a second she recalled the tight fist she'd held as they'd walked to the apparition point. She hadn't been clenching firmly enough to draw blood, though. It must have been aggravated by the apparition. Considering that she'd been magically sober for a month and was using an unfamiliar wand, Hermione was quite satisfied with the general lack of lost limbs or misplaced organs.

In her body, at least.

Hermione turned to where she and Narcissa had landed and spotted the other woman sprawled on her back, her upper body firmly planted on the top of a bush while her legs rested on the ground at uncomfortable angles. Not bothering to stand, Hermione crawled nearer and asked, breathless, "Are you alright?"

"I seem to be in one piece," Narcissa answered, her voice an uncomfortable grimace as she squirmed to free herself. She managed to move herself to a seated position and flinched as a branch of the bush scraped against her back. "I think I might have twisted my knee when I fell, and I'm sure I have plenty of bruises and scrapes." As she spoke, she inspected her arms for any wounds other than the abrasions on her hands that Hermione could clearly see. "And you?"

"I'm fine," Hermione answered, glad to find that the symptoms were rapidly easing. "Just a little dizziness." Moving closer, Hermione sat on her heels at Narcissa's side watched as the other woman took inventory of her injuries. "We're alone, by the way. I checked. No one's nearby."

"That's good news," Narcissa mumbled as she shifted her legs. The left one flexed easily but the right made her wince. Finally looking at Hermione, Narcissa mused, "You did such an excellent job of healing me before. I'm afraid I may be in need of your treatment again."

Hermione laughed and Narcissa smiled. Without missing a beat, Hermione gently took the woman's hands and settled them on her thigh, palms-up, and began to heal the scraped skin until the burning red blotches were the pale pink canvas of Narcissa's flesh once again.

The knee proved to be a more challenging problem and Hermione spent a good fifteen minutes stewing in frustration until she met success. There was a pop and Narcissa sighed in relief.

"That feels much better."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better about my healing spells, are you?"

Narcissa laughed, three clean notes of amusement. "No, I think you've finally fixed it."

"Good. What else needs healing?"

Narcissa shook her head and moved to stand. "I'm perfectly alright. I have only a few slight discomforts on my back, courtesy of this plant." Narcissa bitterly gestured to the now splintered bush which had been thoroughly smashed by the weight of Narcissa's fall. "I'll be sure to treat them if they become problematic."

Hermione stood as Narcissa did and nodded. Brushing her hands on her pants, she hissed as the friction tore at the slight cuts on her palm and she held it up to her hand again. The dirt was smeared across her hand and deeply embedded in the little dermal chasms.

"Are you hurt?" frowned Narcissa and she stepped closer, gently encircling Hermione's wrist and bringing it closer to her eyes. Hermione watched the woman as she surveyed her palm, suddenly uncomfortably self-conscious. Narcissa's expression portrayed only concern.

"It seems you are now in need of my care," Narcissa said softly. Adjusting her angle, she aimed her wand at Hermione's dirtied hand and administered a deep disinfecting spell. Hermione bit her lip at the burning it caused but remained silent as Narcissa worked until her hand was not only cleaned, but healed. Narcissa enclosed Hermione's hand between both her own. "Perhaps you should trim your nails," she suggested.

Awkwardly, Hermione answered, "Yeah, I'm not used to them being this long. I think apparition did most of the damage, though; I never clench my fists hard enough to draw blood like that."

Narcissa released Hermione's hand and gave her a smile which Hermione had no idea how to interpret.

Hermione let out a breath and hoped it would shift the conversation. Not meeting Narcissa's eyes, she slung the strap of her back over her shoulder and proposed, "Do you think you could begin to set up our things? I'll cast the wards." Narcissa nodded wordlessly and took the bag.

Relieved to have a few moments of relative privacy, Hermione paced what she estimated to be a reasonable circumference for their campsite and erected the wards she had learned so well. She took her time to ensure that they were sturdy, holding her breath as she manipulated the magic and wrestled it into place. She could feel the wand resisting her movements and vaguely wondered what sort of spells it was used to casting. What was the standard repertoire of a Death Eater's wand?

But wouldn't it be more likely that the spare wand closet was stocked with the wands of Voldemort's victims? Perhaps the slender wood resting in her palms had belonged to a Muggleborn witch, confiscated from her clenched fingers as she begged for the lives of her children. Or from an eager eleven-year-old who had been abducted from the Hogwarts Express, his freshly purchased wand torn from his trunk of belongings and tossed into a cupboard, never having been used.

Hermione realised her muscles had seized and she was paralysed, her wide eyes staring at the wand in her hands. Her palms were sweating and clammy and the ward she'd been in the middle of casting had fizzled out when her concentration wandered. Her morbid fantasies had left her cold and shaky, but she nevertheless scolded herself for being so careless and leaving herself exposed and undefended.

Straightening her posture, she raised her arms and whispered the incantation, focusing on manipulating the magic into the protective shielding she desired, all the while shoving the images of the wand's rightful owner from her head.

When she was satisfied that the wards were secure, Hermione ambled back towards the spot where she had left Narcissa to set up the campsite. She heard the woman's movements before she saw them; Narcissa had organised their tools into distinct piles according to their function. Hermione watched her for a moment, crouched over their cooking supplies and food rations on the grass. Her blonde hair was shielding her face like a curtain woven from the palest thread.

Narcissa looked up before Hermione could announce herself. "The wards are established?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," answered Hermione. She suddenly felt embarrassed for staring.

Narcissa nodded and turned back to the items she was attempting to sort. With a frustrated sigh, she pushed herself to a standing position and absently dusted off her jeans. "I'm glad to have you back. I don't think I would be able to assemble a sturdy shelter on my own." Hermione wondered whether Narcissa had experienced the same cold dread in her belly when they had been separated for the twenty minutes or so it took for Hermione to set up the wards. "Even with magic, this Muggle technology continues to puzzle me." She extended a metal rod to Hermione and Hermione took it with a timid smile, pushing emotions from her mind and committing herself to the task of helping Narcissa put together the tent.

Hermione stood in the corner, arms folded across her chest and a smirk firmly planted on her lips. "You know," she mused aloud. "I'm not sure that all your adjustments will stay put when we collapse the tent to move."

Narcissa didn't turn from her position and her brows remained tightly furrowed as she carefully twisted her wand at the smooth rocks she'd brought inside the tent. As soon as they'd put the thing together, she'd taken it upon herself to make it more "comfortable." Hermione could hardly say she was surprised when it turned out that the woman's definition of comfort was expanding the interior to the size of a large Hogwarts classroom and transfiguring various pieces of wood and stone into approximations of end tables. At the moment, she was attempting to transfigure a pile of rocks about twice the size of Hermione's fist into a hearth for a healthy fire. Hermione couldn't deny that she was impressed by Narcissa's magical capabilities or her taste for interior design, but there was something profoundly amusing about the fact that they were quite literally running for their lives and Narcissa appeared to be more concerned with the colour scheme of their campsite.

"Your little bag was made by Muggles," Narcissa replied without turning. "And it certainly seems to be able to cope with your magical alterations."

"Yes, but all I did was enlarge it," Hermione quipped in response. "I think what you're attempting here," Pausing, Hermione took a moment to survey the inside of the tent and let her eyes linger on the respectably sized sofa. "…is a little more complicated."

Narcissa shrugged, still not turning from her position as she attempted to fuse the rocks together. "I suppose we shall see whether the effects are permanent."

Hermione smiled. "I suppose we shall."