The forest materialized before her. Hermione took in a deep breath as she looked around from the forest floor. Birds chirped and trees glowed a healthy green.
Just how she remembered it.
It made her long for the company of her boys. She almost smiled thinking about how Ron's constant comical complaining made Harry's gloomy nature seem a little less bleak. Funny how you miss the oddest things about the people you care about.
As Hermione rose to set up her usual wards, a branch caught her foot.
She rolled her eyes up in annoyance.
The pain potion must be wearing off as a throbbing ache resettled in her broken arm.
She closed her eyes in frustration.
As soon as she finished the wards, she would take an analgesic from her supplies, set up her tent and rest while she figured out a way to find Harry and Ron.
She nodded her head. Good plan.
Without bothering to look down she gave the branch a disheartened kick and marched forward. The branch dislodged and a whoosh of air escaped it.
A whoosh of…
An expiration.
She whipped around, wand already in her hand as she looked down.
There lay Draco Malfoy; on his side, arm slightly outstretched from her kick and completely and utterly unconscious.
She should probably check. Just to be sure.
She bent down and picked up a small sized rock. Then she threw it at him.
He didn't react.
Great.
Now she had to deal with Malfoy. Again.
She could leave him.
But she would be risking him possibly waking up and trying to hunt her down again. Not to mention he still had valuable information the Order could use. Problem was she didn't currently know where headquarters was located. Hogwarts was still out of the question, Snape being headmaster and all…
He still hadn't moved.
She just about uttered the body binding spell but stopped.
He was really pale. Dead-like.
She sucked in a breath, looking around and anxiously tapped her wand against her thigh. It didn't seem as though they had been followed.
Her eyes darted back to him. He was really hurt. If she wanted to keep him hostage then she needed him alive.
But reverse the tables and he'd have left her to die without a second thought. How much would it matter in the long run if she left him?
She let out a frustrated groan.
She had a limited amount of first aid ingredients and most of them she had already used on Ron. Furthermore, if she ran out of ingredients helping Malfoy she might not have enough for herself. Her broken arm would mend during the next couple of days and she would have no pain relief to help.
Shame flooded her.
Since when had she become so selfish? She was watching a human being suffer and all she could think about was her herself.
She was nothing like him and she would prove it. Not for him, but for herself.
She conjured two ropes before shoving her wand into her pocket and proceeding to awkwardly tie his arms behind his back and his legs together. It was difficult with her handicapped arm still in a sling.
She then rolled him onto his back. She untied her extendable pouch from her waist, reached inside and dug until she found scissors. She quickly cut his shirt from the button line to the stick, slowing down a bit near the wound and then dropped the scissors back into the bag.
She hesitated for only a moment before she grabbed his soaked shirt and pulled it until most of the buttons came off.
His skin was soaked in blood and sweat; the smell was horrid.
She reached into her bag once more, pulling out what resembled a crystal perfume bottle. Less than half of its content remained.
She pulled off the cap and reached down to grab the stick protruding from his chest. She would need to be faster than the blood waiting to pool out from it.
She counted to three and pulled.
Malfoy howled in agony and rolled onto his side in a reflex.
"Oh no!" she panicked as saw a fresh pool of blood gush from the gaping wound.
She grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto his back.
As she let go of his shoulder to grab her wand, he started to roll onto his side once more.
"Stop it!" she shrieked.
But Malfoy was delirious with pain and her words fell on deaf ears.
Losing time, she replaced her hand with her knee and grabbed her wand.
"Augamenti," she said, pointing it at his wound.
Blood splashed away from it and she quickly poured the green potion into the gaping hole.
She dropped the bottle and quickly bent forward to put both her hands atop it, applying all her weight and praying for the best.
Malfoy squirmed underneath her, cutting his own cries short as if every breath was too unbearable to finish.
Finally, he stopped.
She looked at his face from her perch above him.
He was passed out again.
Slowly, she released the pressure of her hands on his injury.
When no blood seeped, she deemed it safe to peek underneath. New tissue had partially formed. The hole was sealed over, but it looked deformed, angry and red; like a second degree burn.
She let out a sigh of exhaustion and sat down.
The wound still had healing to do. She picked up her bag and returned the empty vial inside of it.
Deciding she deserved it, she pulled up the whiskey container holding her analgesic potion and took a swing from it. Its immediate effects made her close her eyes and sigh in relief.
She looked back down to Malfoy whose breathing had returned to normal. It seemed like he would be out for a while.
She swished the contents of her container.
Half a bottle left. Both of them would be in pain. The little flask wouldn't last very long.
Taking one last deep breath, she pulled herself to her feet.
She still had a camp and wards to set up.
Hermione sat in front of the fire outside the tent. She had double and triple checked the wards this time. She just couldn't figure out how the snatchers had found them. She went over it for a third time. She didn't miss anything. All her spells had been properly incanted and she had done her usual walk around the perimeter every two hours. Nothing. No clue as to how they had been discovered.
She looked over at Malfoy, still unconscious where she had left him. Perhaps she would be able to get him to tell her.
Doubtful.
Her stomach gave a growl so she pulled a power bar from her bag. She had enough snacks to last her another week.
Her thoughts floated back to Harry and Ron. She had the bag. They had nothing. No food, no provisions, no shelter.
She had confidence they would manage. She just needed to formulate a plan to find them.
A pained groan caught her attention.
If only she wasn't stuck with him and his deadweight.
She got up and walked over to Draco as the sun shined its last ray'-s through the trees.
He was mumbling in his sleep; and he was sweating again. It was early to be developing an infection, but if he was, he was on his own to fight it off. She used the last of her healing potion on him.
Deciding it was time to retreat for the night; she pulled out her wand and levitated him into the tent.
She gently placed him onto Harry's bed and made sure the binding of his hands and feet were secure. The last thing she needed was for him to wake up and attack her while she slept.
She walked over to her bed and hid her wand in her pillow cover. Just in case.
She relaxed as she listened to his groans and moans.
It humanized him.
Hearing an adversary cry out in pain and fear was sobering and she was once again reminded that they were at war.
Nothing about this was going to be pleasant.
The next two days were uneventful. She spent her time looking for edible herbs, potion ingredients and reading from the books she had. He would drift in and out of consciousness, always incoherent and never fully awake. Her arm was now out of the sling and her whiskey flask was just about empty.
She had been outside all morning, practicing what she would say to him for when he woke up.
"Oh hello, I healed you and kept you safe these past couples of days, would you mind telling me how you and your dad found us?" she sarcastically said aloud.
No that won't do.
She tried again, really trying to get into it.
"Now you listen here; you are alone, wandless and without me, you'd be dead."
She groaned in defeat. If Harry were here he'd handle this.
She solemnly looked at the tent.
But he wasn't.
And she was the one who was alone.
Her shoulders slumped as she headed inside to grab another book.
Taking the first couple of steps inside, she gagged.
The smell was foul.
Was this what she had been living in? How had she not notice?
She looked at Malfoy. He was still in his stained clothes. The layers of sweat and blood hadn't been touched.
No amount of scourgify was going to clean him.
He needed a bath.
She gagged again.
Desperately.
She grabbed her wand out of her pants and levitated him.
This was happening. Much to her horror; she was going to bathe Draco Malfoy.
She walked with him levitating in front of her almost fifteen minutes before they reached the nearby lake.
She gently placed him on the rough sand at her usual bathing spot.
How on earth was she going to do this? What if he woke up?
She dipped her hand in the water.
It was really cold.
Deciding she would dry her clothes off later, she quickly thought of her plan of action, taking off her shoes and socks and stepped into the water.
When she reached hip deep, she levitated him once more, this time bringing him to her.
God, she hated going into the lake. She wished for a real bath, or a hot tub or even a volcano at this point.
She prepared herself and grabbed one of his elbow's as she slowly lowered him into the water and then relaxed when he didn't react.
Bringing a knee up to support his upper back, she put her wand back into her pocket. His head bobbed back and she panicked, grabbing it before his nose submerged.
She gave a nervous laugh after she stabilized his floating body. No one would believe her if she ever recounted this moment.
With one hand keeping his head afloat and her knee stabilizing his torso, she reached into her front pocket hand pulled out the bar of soap.
Just the essentials.
She began scrubbing the soap onto his chest and made a face when the blood easily came off.
She did his neck, his arms, and his back, as far as his open shirt would let her. She was quite proud of herself actually; she was pulling off this balancing task quite well.
She tried to ignore the floating blood that surrounded them.
She made sure to go around his wound gently and then made her way to his navel.
That should do it. No more needed. Mandrakes would sing before she would touch any more of this man.
She pocketed the newly pebble sized soap and grabbed her wand.
As she levitated him out, she noticed she was absolutely freezing and her shivering hand was making Malfoy's levitating body shake.
She gently placed him on the ground and gave her wand a complicated wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed it to her clothes and extremities, which steamed as they dried out.
Now dry and warm, she turned her wand to Malfoy and waited for the water to evaporate from his front.
When she was satisfied, she rolled him onto his side and proceeded to dry off his back. The sand from the beach clung to him as he dried and she figured she would pat it off outside the tent when they returned. With that thought, she levitated him once more.
It was more difficult going uphill with him. She had to maneuver him around the trees and branches that seemed to be working against her.
Pausing before the campsite, she noticed his body had accumulated a number of scratches from the bramble.
She put him down on a towel in front of her tent and used it to help her brush off the dry sand from his back.
As her hand swatted at him, she noticed Malfoy was built a little like Harry, taller and slightly larger since she last seen him, but both men were slender. Despite buying his way onto the Quidditch team, Malfoy had become quite a good athlete and he was the only real challenge Harry ever had to deal with on the field. Like Harry, his physique reflected his training.
When she got most of the sand off, she levitated him into the tent and back onto Harry's bed.
She managed to gather a few forest ingredients for a locator charm and she organized them in their respective compartments inside her bag. The sun had set and the campfire glow was on the verge of disappearing. The little floating ball of paper she had set fire to was her only real lighting as it slowly burned above her inside the tent.
She pulled out the little glass bottle that, until recently, contained the last of her healing potion and held it out in front of her.
How could she make use of this newly emptied item?
The glow of her little fire highlighted the Mudblood engraving on her arm.
It was hideous.
Anger and resentment bubbled within her; she vigorously rubbed at it. Nothing she had tried had fixed it. Mrs. Weasley was right, it was definitely cursed.
The firelight that reflected onto the crystal made her look at the bottle again. She unscrewed the lid and furiously dabbed the opening of the bottle to her scar. Hidden drops escaped and moistened the skin. She stopped for a moment as the skin became bright red, the letters accentuated onto her pale arm before sizzling back into scar tissue.
She sighed in disappointment.
Same result as the last time.
"That's pathetic," croaked Malfoy.
Hermione almost dropped the bottle.
He was awake.
End of chapter 6.
Author's note: Hey guys! Sorry, this one took so long! I was in the middle of exams. Buuuuuut I'm done now and I'm already about halfway through chapter 7.
Drop a review! See you again soon.
Nugget for chapter 7: Let the banter begin!