January 4th

A conscience was a luxury that Hermione couldn't afford to hold on to. Too much was at stake to worry about what was good and proper. Or kind. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she had been kind. There were plenty of people in her past who would be quick to declare her ruthless and overly opinionated. Bossy, even. Of course, those were often the adjectives that were used to describe witches who exhibited the same qualities that so many found attractive and desirable in wizards. She would never apologize for being who she was or who she had been forced to become.

Stealing the man's wallet wasn't her proudest moment. It also wasn't her worst. She had done much worse in the name of safety and survival. If one wished to survive, they had to make sacrifices of the very best parts of themselves at times. And thanks to the unsuspecting Muggle, Hermione had been able to purchase a ticket for a bus ride far away from London.

It was a bad time of year to go up north, especially for one who didn't even have a place to sleep. She wasn't sure where she would spend her time trying to stay warm. There was still a tent inside her bag, but it wasn't wise to use it with magic. If Malfoy had been able to track her when she had been so careful, he wouldn't have any trouble if she actually used her wand.

There was a trace on her, she knew. One that informed her master the moment she tried to use any of her magic. She wasn't sure when she came to that conclusion, but it was the only explanation that made any sense. Ordinarily used only on underage witches and wizards to keep them from violating the Underage Magic Act, the Ministry had begun by placing it on those they deemed 'Undesirable' or those who had somehow managed to slip out of the constraints of the new world that Voldemort was in the process of creating. It didn't take long before everyone had the Trace. If one was well-connected or happily living within the confines of wizarding society playing by the very strict rules set up, there was no problem with exercising a bit of magical skill. If someone, like her, was trying to desperately avoid anyone with the slightest amount of power, they had to live just like the Muggles.

A month earlier she'd been desperate for a little bit of warmth. She hadn't been able to find anywhere with a roof to spend the night and the weather was dreadful. Even putting on every single piece of clothing she owned and wrapping herself in multiple blankets hadn't been enough. Without a fire, she was going to die. She turned her bag inside out searching for a lighter or even a single match. There was nothing, not even a piece of flint. And even if she did have those things, it wouldn't have mattered. Every scrap of wood she could find was too wet and frozen to burn.

Desperation caused her to use her wand. As she used the roaring fire in the middle of the woods to warm up her frozen body, she considered the very real possibility that she would be found by one of the Dark Lord's minions. She was low enough that the thought of being dragged back to captivity didn't even sound like a horrible fate. At least with the loss of her freedom she had a warm bed and enough food to eat. She might not have cared for her master's incessant personal attention, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about getting sick and dying alone in the snow. She had the freedom to use her wand even if her orders were hardly pleasurable at times.

The fire had only just gotten warm enough to start thawing the worst of her chills when a sound in the distance assaulted her ears. It was subtle. A single snapping of a twig beneath a foot. If she had been anyone else, she might have been able to explain it away as a wild animal in the distance. She was grateful that she didn't discount the sound. Only seconds after she heard it, bright red streams bursting out of the end of at least three different wands lit up the darkness.

Magic was one of those skills that would grow weaker and more difficult if too much time passed without its utilization. Though she was able to roll away from the path of the stunners without a hitch, actually creating a shield against the offensive spells was harder than she expected. It took her a couple of tries to cast what had once been second nature. Months on the run was threatening to take away her prodigious magical abilities. If she didn't figure out a way to get more practice, she would be in even more danger than she already was.

"Trying to get warm, Princess? I can help you with that."

Even as she ran as fast as she could away from the Death Eaters, she couldn't resist a roll of her eyes. Thorfinn Rowle was about as subtle as a bludger to the head. She wasn't sure who his companions were. It didn't really matter. Each one of them represented a danger she should have expected. She was able to Disapparate from the forest after running several hundred meters away. Once she was safely in another part of the country, she put her wand back in her pocket and didn't stop moving for miles.

She would be foolish to try to use magic again. Next time, she might not be so lucky. The Dark Lord might send a more competent group of his followers. She suffered no delusions that their failure to apprehend the wanted fugitive resulted in a severe punishment when they returned. Not only from Lord Voldemort, but also from the other wizard she hoped to never see again. He was just as tenacious and stubborn as she was. If she slipped up and made another mistake, she would be caught. Her master would make certain of it.

It was a long journey from London to her next destination. Scotland was just as dangerous. She was hoping that since very few would expect her to travel so close to the very place she was running from, that she might find safety. At least for a little while. Nowhere was safe forever. Not even if she figured out how to slip past the borders.

Feeling confident that she was unlikely to be accosted by a crazed Dark wizard on the bus, Hermione laid her head against the window and closed her eyes. There would be hundreds of kilometers and several hours before she had to worry about her next move. Relaxing in the delicious heat of the bus, she quickly drifted off to sleep.