January 1st

The bells declaring the New Year seemed to ring for an eternity. No matter how tightly she held her pillow over her ears, Hermione couldn't find any relief from the clanging. Using magic to cast a silencing spell was too dangerous. Magical signatures could be traced. Many witches and wizards that she'd known personally already learned that fact the hard way.

She had an advantage that most of them didn't. Hiding in plain sight amongst the clueless Muggles wasn't as easy as stealing their clothes off of laundry lines or out of unattended electric dryers. Muggles carried themselves differently. It might have been subtle, but it was easy enough to pick out if one knew what to look for. And the Death Eaters most certainly did.

Her previous life as the clever, but odd daughter of a couple of well-to-do dentists served her well in the dystopia of the new world. She knew how to dress, how to speak, how to behave as a simple Muggle ignorant of the hidden world she could no longer be a part of. Most importantly, she knew how to exist without magic. Conjuring fire might have been as easy as breathing to her, but she knew how matches were lit and in a pinch, she knew how to use a flint or even a twig. For the first time, she was actually thankful her father forced her to endure two horrible years as a Brownie Guide. Casting alohomora was, likewise, just as simple, but she quickly learned how to pick a lock with entirely Muggle means.

And, perhaps second most importantly, she knew how to spot the members of Lord Voldemort's forces when they attempted to mingle with the Muggles. It was clear he chose his 'ambassadors' to the Muggle world very carefully from amongst his Death Eaters. Likely they were all at least Half-bloods. Blood purity might have been a topic revered by many still living within the society she ran from, but the so-called Dark Lord was too pragmatic to dispose of anyone with magical blood as long as they served some use. Even Muggle-borns had been somewhat recruited. Not necessarily into his service as a Death Eater. More as secondary servants. Still useful for performing the drudgery that those with more pristine ancestry abhorred.

It was a fate that awaited her if she was ever foolish enough to find herself caught in his web again. Perhaps her fate would be even worse the second time around. She had little doubt that Voldemort was still angry with her over the events that allowed her escape. Dolohov might have recovered from his wounds, but she was certain that his disposition hadn't improved. He was the kind of man who held a grudge long past the time when everyone else would have given up and moved on. No, he would never forgive her and he was not an enemy one would like to have.

She cursed the bells and the other sounds of merrymaking assaulting her ears. There had been little reason to celebrate another year beginning anew for a long time. Part of her wanted to ignore all of her concerns about being caught and curse the oblivious Muggles for their lack of understanding. What right did they have to celebrate? Sleep was a luxury she rarely had the opportunity to enjoy. How dare they interrupt it?

Breaking into empty Muggle homes was a deceptively easy process. One simply had to know what signs to check for first. During the holidays and much of the summer, homes were often abandoned in the short-term for visits to relatives' houses or trips abroad. Hermione had to pick her targets carefully. Most houses and flats in larger cities were equipped with security systems that she couldn't disconnect without magic. She learned early on in her life as a fugitive that small villages and the countryside were the best options available for short-term stays. When it was time to choose a new place, she surveyed the inhabitants. Learned their schedules. Deciphered their movements. Estimated how long she could sleep in their beds and eat their food before they returned home to catch her where she wasn't supposed to be.

She'd been fortunate to only have been caught twice by unsuspecting homeowners. Once she was able to run away without the Muggles apprehending her. The second time she hadn't been so lucky. Even with a false name given to the officer, she feared that somehow the Death Eaters would learn her whereabouts. If it hadn't been for Kingsley's contacts within the Muggle world…

Spending precious time dwelling on 'what-ifs' was not a productive use of her time. She had a friend who saved her from a fate worse than death. That was all that was important to remember. Her former master had a score to settle with her and she knew it was only a matter of time. It wasn't if she was caught. It was when.

Somehow, even with the raucous noise outside her stolen window, Hermione was able to fall asleep. She wasn't sure when it happened or how. But, as soon as she was awake, she knew something was wrong. The sun was hardly peeking over the horizon. All of the drunken revelers were back in their own beds leaving the streets absolutely silent.

She strained her ears to hear what was happening downstairs. Though no hint of an intruder drifted upstairs, she knew they were there. She hadn't been living on the run as long as she had without learning the ever-present dangers. There was magic in the air. Nothing malevolent, but even the presence of magic was something to be wary of. Most fugitives didn't risk it if they could help it. This was obviously someone who did not fear being caught.

With one hand on the wand she hadn't used for months, Hermione listened for any sounds and carefully got out of bed. There was never any need to change into pajamas. She had to be ready at a moment's notice to flee. Shoes, however, were always removed before she got into her stranger's bed. It might have been smarter to keep them on, but she couldn't abide the feel of slipping them under the covers. Besides, it felt rude to desecrate a bed with the filth of her soles.

The moment her shoes were secured to her feet, the robed figure entered the bedroom. Hermione scanned his frame for anything that she might recognize. She might have sighed in relief if a red flash of light hadn't come straight at her head. A shield charm easily defected the stunner. Whoever the person was, they didn't seem to be there to kill her. Small favors. Dodging Avadas was something of a pastime she wasn't looking forward to resuming.

"Don't you think it's time that you came home, Granger?"

She was startled to hear his voice again. It had been so long. Once there had been a time in her life when she heard the familiar cadence every single day. Sometimes multiple times in one day. He represented a link to the relatively halcyon days of her adolescence. Strange how one could feel nostalgic about something, or someone, they loathed.

"I don't have a home anymore, Malfoy."

He made a dramatic show of dropping his wand on the foot of the bed to prove he wasn't going to use it again. As he stepped backwards with his palms held up, she snorted. Did he really expect her to just come quietly? The faintest light shining through the window lit up the wizard's pale blond hair. He'd aged since they were last in the same room together. What innocence once remained was nowhere to be found. His chrysalis was complete. The spoiled child was now an embittered, damaged man.

"I think you'll find there are a few people who would disagree with that statement."

"If you've come to try to drag me back there, I'm afraid I won't let you do that."

"You've been running for what? Seven months? Eight months? Aren't you tired of running, Granger?"

She would never admit that she was. The existence she was experiencing wasn't life and it was hardly sustainable. If nothing changed, she would be dead soon.

"Did he send you after me?"

Draco stepped forward. Hermione stepped backwards. Oceans between them wouldn't have been enough. Without making it too obvious what she was doing, she began planning her escape.

"I came of my own accord. No one sent me."

She scoffed in a derisive manner and rolled her eyes. Whatever his end game was, she wanted no part of it. Malfoy had a history of keeping his secrets close to his chest. There was always something more to his words than their face value. Only a fool would trust a Malfoy.

"I'm afraid your time has been wasted. I will never return. I would rather die."

Quick spellwork was difficult to manage with little practice, but Hermione accomplished it. She knocked her opponent to the floor with a Jelly Legs jinx, blew a sizable hole in the side of the house, and jumped. She Disapparated before her feet ever touched the ground, but not before she heard him call out after her.

"I'm not going to stop looking! I'll find you again!"