January 15th

The cold Welsh barn turned out to be much more comfortable than Hermione anticipated. She assumed that once she was able to find a quiet, dark corner and warm up enough to be able to fall asleep that she would only be out for a few hours. Sleeping outside of a bed or a comfortable couch was never easy. Usually she would sleep just long enough that she could gather enough strength and energy to keep moving. Hiding in an outbuilding on someone else's property while they were only meters away meant that she had to get up very early and leave before anyone suspected that she was there.

Unfortunately, the walking had taken more out of her than she thought. Unused to such a high level of physical activity, every muscle in her body was sore. She would have to get up and move even if there wasn't any way possible that she could get as far as she had the day before. Staying still could mean a death sentence if she wasn't careful. Once her eyes were closed, it was going to take a lot to get her to wake back up.

Like a single loud bark inches from her face.

"Leave the rats, Alfie. You're not going to catch one."

A series of more barks accompanied the sound of a woman's voice. Hermione sat up quickly when she understood that she was about to be discovered hiding in a barn by the potential owner. There would be no good excuse for her to be there. Alfie, the overly excited watchdog, continued to bark his concerns about the stranger. Unless she Disapparated out of the barn before she was caught, there was nothing she could do to get out of there. It had been foolish to bed down in a place with only one exit. She knew better than that.

Any use of her magic would be registered. It had been dangerous to use it on New Year's. How she didn't get caught was beyond her. In that moment, she was only concerned with getting away from Malfoy. He was dangerous to her survival. But was this Muggle? Though she hadn't gotten a look at her face, nothing in her voice led Hermione to believe she was possessed of unnatural physical strength. She just sounded like an ordinary, middle-aged Muggle. Surely she could outrun one of those. Even if her body still screamed from its physical activity the day before.

"What is it, Alfie?"

The concern in her voice was evident. Hermione had to make a quick decision how she was going to play this encounter. Each second the Muggle's footsteps drew closer and closer. Alfie continued to bark. He didn't instill any fear in Hermione. Clearly, he was one of those sweet, gentle dogs that got too excited when it came to strangers that they couldn't stop barking, but who wouldn't be able to cause anyone any injury. The white on his muzzle proved that he'd long ago passed his youthful stage. She didn't want to injure the dog, but if she had to, she would. Any threat to her survival had to be eliminated. The woman too.

Only a moment or two before the Muggle got her first glimpse of her intruder huddled in the corner of the barn, Hermione made her decision. Sometimes, sheer violence wasn't the answer. That had been one of the more surprising lessons she learned from Antonin. She assumed when they began their training that he would always be a proponent for killing what annoyed him. Kill first and ask questions later sort. As it turned out, he had more effective methods for dealing with enemies and potential threats.

Hermione made herself seem as small as possible in the corner away from the still barking Alfie. Every lesson she ever learned about projecting a steely mask of indifference on her face was thrown away. She allowed the very real fear she was experiencing to show on her face. She wanted the Muggle to know she was afraid. Yes, she was capable of killing the woman with hardly any effort, but she was still frightened that this would be another threat to her being able to walk out the door and run away for another day.

"Alfie! To me."

With wide, unblinking eyes, the woman kept her gaze on her unwelcome visitor. It was obvious that she hadn't expected to find another person hiding in her barn. Hermione could feel her heart pounding in her chest. If she didn't immediately call for someone else to assist her in the barn, there was a high probability that she would be able to talk her way out of the sticky situation she'd found herself in.

She recognized the feel of being analyzed as a potential threat. It was something she herself had done countless times in the past. Seconds passed that felt like hours. Nearing the end of her fifties, by Hermione's estimation, the woman looked to be the kind of person that wasn't afraid of much. That could be a good thing or a very, very bad thing. If she didn't believe Hermione was a threat, she might let her go with little more than an apology. If she did believe she was a threat, it was likely Hermione wouldn't even know it until it was too late to get out of there safely. Dealing with humans capable of thinking for themselves meant dealing with unknown variables.

"It was a cold night last night. Come inside the house and I'll make you some tea."

An invitation to enjoy the warmth of the woman's kitchen was not what Hermione expected. Startled at first, she didn't speak or make a move. Only when the woman turned her head back to call over her shoulder for her did Hermione find the strength in her legs to follow. Alfie ran back and forth between the two women with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging without stopping. It was the strangest walk that she could remember for quite a long time.

Entering in the Muggle's back door to her kitchen presented a whole new set of dangers. If Hermione refused to enter, the woman might take it to mean that she was running from the authorities or something worse. A simple call to the right department and Muggles all over the area would be looking for a woman matching her description. There were spies everywhere. It wouldn't take long before Death Eaters were involved in the search. Of course, once she was inside the house, a lot could go wrong too. She had to be careful. Had to keep her eyes completely open and not grow complacent for a single second.

"Have a seat at the table and I'll put the kettle on."

Hermione did as she was told. Alfie immediately put his front paws in her lap, begging for attention. To give her hands something to do, she scratched behind his ears while she watched his master move around her tiny, warm kitchen. She hadn't spoken a single word to the Muggle yet. It was safer. The less she knew, the better.

The Muggle was too trusting. With her back to the stranger, she moved around as if it was every single day that she found an intruder in her personal property. She didn't speak to Hermione again until the tea was ready. As she filled each of their cups at the table, her eyes flicked up more than once to get a good look at her visitor. She sat down, picked up her cup, and asked the most obvious question that should've been asked a long time before that moment.

"Why were you in my barn?"

A direct question couldn't be ignored. Hermione knew she would have to say something to pacify the woman's curiosity. She sped through all of the potential scenarios. Being perfectly honest seemed the best option.

"I was walking yesterday and I got very tired. I didn't expect to sleep for so long. Hoped to be out of there before anyone found me."

She seemed satisfied by the simple answer. Once she took a sip of her tea, the woman set the cup back down on the table.

"There's nothing of any value to steal in the barn. Or in the house, for that matter."

"I'm not a thief."

Except, survival had forced her to become one at times. Hermione could compartmentalize her actions. Shove them in the very back of her mind to forget about them. Sometimes staying alive was more important than one's personal convictions.

"No, I don't get the feeling that you are. You're running though. The question is, from what?"

She narrowed her eyes as if that would aid in her scrutiny of her unusual guest. Hermione wasn't about to come right out and admit what she was running from. Not only would it be too complicated to explain, the woman might assume that she was some dangerous criminal and the Muggle police would need to be contacted.

"It might have been many years since I did the same, but I recognize a woman running from her husband."

Hermione's eyes widened at her statement. She wasn't sure how to respond.

"Don't try to deny it. I see it. The same desperation I remember seeing when I looked in the mirror is all over you."

"Yes, well…"

"You don't look marked up, but sometimes they don't have to leave bruises to hurt us, do they?"

All she could do was nod her head and sip her tea. She didn't like where this conversation was headed and how she was going to be expected to participate in it.

"Or, like my bastard ex-husband, they prefer to leave the marks in places others can't see."

"He pushed me down the stairs once. Thought I was going to break my neck."

The Muggle didn't even seem horrified by the confession. Just shook her head and sighed. After another sip of tea, she spoke again.

"Can't say I blame you for running away. Any children?"

"One."

"A boy that looks just like his father?"

Hermione almost dropped her teacup.

"How did you…?"

"You didn't bring him with you. I just assumed."

"Yes, well, I've never been a terribly good mother anyway. Never wanted the job. It certainly wasn't my choice."

The Muggle woman nodded in understanding. Without warning, she rose from her chair and disappeared into another room. Hermione's fear grew. If she couldn't see what the woman was doing, she could be in danger. Maybe she was using the phone. Or she was digging out some ancient firearm her grandfather used to shoot birds. It could be anything.

Almost as soon as she left the room, the woman returned. In her hands she held a simple white envelope. She set it down on the table next to Hermione's abandoned teacup.

"Here. Take this. It's an address of a shelter I know of and a little bit of money to pay for the bus."

"I can't accept this."

"Nonsense. It's not much, but it'll get you some help. If I hadn't had a kind stranger help me all of those years ago, I would've gone back to the bastard and I'd probably be dead."

Hermione tried to swallow the lump of emotion that formed in her throat. No one had ever shown her such kindness. She was beginning to believe that there was hope for humanity after all.