Chapter 18

It was so strange being back in muggle London. Things had changed. It wasn't any particular thing she could point to, but it felt as if things had changed. The muggle world had moved on without her and she was now a foreigner. Her clothes made her stand out, and she needed to get new ones, so she walked into a charity shop and picked a pair of jeans and a hoodie and put them on behind the curtain which served as a changing room.

"I need to swap this for these," she said to the lady at the counter. The woman looked at her deeply unimpressed.

"That's not how we work."

"It's silk," Hermione added. "You'll get far more for it." From the right person. She placed the fine gown Marcus had provided to her on the desk. "And I need these," she said, grabbing a pair of sunglasses off a stand by the counter.

Then she left before some kind of argument could ensue. Now people didn't stare at her. She blended in nicely, but she didn't have any money, and she needed some. What could she do?

The problem was that if she visited someone, either Draco or Marcus could find out. If not Marcus, then Draco. So far, she probably had a head start on him, but who knew how long that would last. It wasn't as if he'd just let her go. Maybe he didn't know she had absconded yet, but how long would it take before he noticed. Maybe she had a week head start. Maybe he already knew and looking for her already.

Relatives he could find, and she couldn't trust anyone magical. Or rather, she couldn't trust Draco not to make them reveal that they had helped her. He was single-minded when he wanted something. That was the one thing she knew for sure.

For now, she just walked, putting distance between herself and the Ministry. Everything still felt so precarious, as if someone would come after her any minute. She needed to get away from London. This would be the first place he'd look. But what should she do, where should she go? It had to be somewhere unexpected, where he wouldn't find her. This was still a chess game between her and him, and she needed to outplay him.

There was no safe place in the magical community. He could get to them, even if they wanted to protect her. She had to go away to somewhere where he wouldn't find her. If anyone helped her, he could interrogate their wands. And she absolutely, under no circumstances could do any magic. Because while the tracker on her person had been taken away, she wasn't sure the magic tracker had been. There were means of uncovering magic, and that was a trace she wasn't going to leave. In order to do this, she couldn't leave a trace. At least not one that he could read and would lead him to her. She had to disappear entirely.

She walked for hours and hunger started to bite. London was a cruel place for people without means. The world was a cruel place for people without means. But she had a direction in mind now. Hannah Fogmore's house. A name no one knew, and no one would link with her, because she was simply known as 'girl'. One of the slaves in Marcus' manor. A small, sickly muggle girl who sometimes scrubbed the floors. Hermione had asked the girl's name and she'd been terrified to acknowledge anything from her muggle life. But she'd in whispers revealed who she was and where she'd come from. A council flat just north of Euston. They hadn't talked a lot, but the worst truth about that girl was that she preferred being a slave in Marcus' manor than going back to her life. That was potentially the saddest thing Hermione had ever heard.

A few questions, and she'd learned about a bruiser called Richie Fogmore, who lived in a flat on the ground floor. Hermione stayed and watched until a man with stringy gray hair and a track suit came out and locked the door, looking around suspiciously before taking himself off with a large bag full of empty beer cans that he was clearly going to return for a couple of pounds. He was the reason Hannah Fogmore preferred a life of drudging slavery.

Picking up a rock, she made her way around the building to the back where there was a second door leading onto a small patch of dirt that served as a garden. She broke the glass, and reached in and opened the door. Her life of crime was escalating.

The place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes and the chair by the TV had an outline of the man who usually lived in it.

She didn't have long, so she quickly found Hannah's room, which was neat and tidy in comparison. She searched as quickly as she could and before long, she struck gold. Hannah's id card. This was what she needed, and she now ran out the back of the small flat and kept going.

This was a start. With this, she could get a passport. Her own passport would probably be flagged somehow, but one cared to search for little Hannah. It was a bet that the man out who lived in this flat was too stubborn to report her missing, but she expected that man wouldn't lift a finger to search for her.

Now she walked south and west. Tiredness was starting to get to her. Her body had run on adrenalin all day and she was starting to tire, but she couldn't yet.

Finally, she reached her destination. Grimmauld Place. The street hadn't changed very much, and she walked to the spot where she knew Harry's house was. She didn't have a wand to reveal it, and she had no idea what had happened to it. It wasn't like anyone informed her of these things.

"Kreacher," she called, quietly enough to not draw attention. And then she waited. If he didn't hear her, then this might all be for nothing. More minutes she waited, staring at the façade that didn't change.

"What do you want?" a rough voice said from the bushes behind her. "I don't serve you. I serve a new family now."

"Someone lives here?"

"Yes."

It didn't matter who. Walking over, she kneeled down by the bush, where she saw the suspicious elf staring at her. Kreacher had never liked her, but he didn't like the administration either. "Can you retrieve the package I left here for emergencies? And Harry's."

"Harry Potter is dead."

"Yes, but he would want me to have it, so I can honor him." Honoring the dead was something Kreacher understood.

He grumbled and then he disappeared. Whoever lived in the house could come rushing out looking for her any minutes if Kreacher informed on her. This was a risk, but one she had to take if she was to get away.

Then he returned with a backpack. It was Harry's old one, and she almost teared up seeing it. It brought back memories of them being on the run. It was too painful to think about, which is why she generally didn't spend time thinking about the past.

"Thank you. Can I also ask you a favor?"

"Why should I do favor for you?" he asked sharply.

"Because if you do, you'll never see me again. I will disappear."

The creature stared at her as if he didn't trust her, which he didn't. But he hadn't told on her either.

Pulling out Hannah's id card, she showed it to him, being careful to hold her finger over the name. "Can you change the picture to mine?"

"You wish me to do magic for you?"

"Yes. Because I know you can."

"I am not supposed to help you."

"No, but you would be honoring both Sirius and Harry if you did."

He narrowed his eyes and then blinked and the photo changed to hers. "If you call me again, I won't help you."

"Thank you," she said and he disappeared leaving an air of disapproval behind him.

Swinging on the backpack, she walked with the intention of never coming back. Someone else lived there now, and it would be the first place Draco would look for her.

So she found a shabby hotel near Paddington. Her feet ached and her mind was exhausted as she sat in the room and ate the sandwich she'd bought. The backpack was full of money and it included both her and Harry's passports. Plus a few fake ids they'd organized, but a real passport would be much better for getting out of the country. Tomorrow, she would fill in an emergency application for a passport and then she would wait. It would give her a few days to plan her next step.

Draco would search for her at the airports, and anyone she would potentially seek help from. Even if he questioned Kreacher, he'd know she had her passport, and potentially a new identity, but she didn't think Kreacher would answer Malfoy's questions, and the knowledge of a new identity was safe. Primarily, she didn't think Malfoy would question Kreacher to start with.

Then she slept, and it was her first night of freedom in years. Unfortunately, the tension meant she couldn't enjoy it. Her dreams were full of chases and escapes, and several times she woke in the dark having no idea where she was. But she would get away from here, and she would build a new life for herself. Maybe she could even change her face so he wouldn't recognize her even if he walked past her. It couldn't be by magic, though. It was a price worth paying for freedom.

She would build an entirely new life and then he would forget about her, and she would be truly safe. Magic would disappear from her life and she would be a muggle in every way. Funnily, she was about to embrace exactly what he'd accused her of being for years.

Both hers and Harry's passports sat on the desk by the window. She would have to get rid of them. It was the only piece of evidence linking her to the past, and also the magic that was imbued on Hannah's id card. When she had the passport, she wouldn't need that anymore either. Hermione Granger would disappear for good.

A new life awaited her, and she was a little excited about it. It still hurt to hope, but it was within her grasp. A life away from magic and war, and prejudice. A mundane muggle life, where magic existed in movies. Maybe she would one day be the old woman who told children about magic and fairies, who everyone thought was plain mad. The thought made her smile.