February 12th

Sitting idly by in the tent with Draco Malfoy and remaining silent wasn't a prospect that Hermione relished much in. She needed to know more. Her very survival was on the line. If she made a mistake by trusting him, or at minimum not not trusting him, everything she had struggled to do for the better part of the previous year would have been for nothing. She would be dead or she would be back in her Hogsmeade home living the life she had been desperate to escape from. One of those options sounded better to her, but she wouldn't come right out and admit it, even to herself.

As their second full day of camping out in the mysterious woods began, her curiosity got the better of her. She needed answers or she was going to run. Draco insisted that she sit at the small dining table while he cooked them both breakfast. Only the bizarre spectacle of watching the former Pureblood prince with house-elves at his disposal crack eggs and fry up bacon kept her attention on something other than the damned test she wanted to know more about.

"I didn't know you could cook."

Draco chuckled and turned to smirk at her over his shoulder. She found the reaction interesting. Usually he was so guarded and formal that to actually see a bit of the mask she knew he'd spent his lifetime perfecting slipping was slightly disconcerting. Who knew Malfoy was actually human?

"If I didn't learn, Granger, I would've starved."

The reminder that not only had their former house-elf Dobby been inadvertently freed by his father but that the two remaining elderly house-elves they had after the war were taken away from his family struck Hermione. It was easy to forget. So much time had passed since those tumultuous days when the Dark Lord's regime was just beginning its revolution of their society. She hadn't had reason to even feel sorry for the family that stood idly by while a member of their own tortured her and threatened to hand her broken body over to the werewolf that terrorized their country when it suited him.

She nodded her head, but didn't say anything in response to his simple statement. Draco, no, Malfoy's eyes lingered on her for a few more uncomfortable seconds before he turned back around to the task at hand. Hermione kept her thoughts about how far the mighty had fallen to herself. If there was one lesson she could still remember vividly from her Muggle father, it was to never anger or insult someone who handled her food.

Several minutes later when Malfoy carried over two plates piled high with steaming eggs and crispy bacon, she couldn't stop the loud grumbling of her stomach. It was an uncouth sound that only made the wizard laugh. Hermione was reluctant to admit to herself that she was beginning to find this version of the spoiled prat from school not as unlikeable as he had been. Far from admitting that she might have misjudged him, she brushed off the bizarre thought as being a result of extreme hunger.

"You're not poisoning me with this, are you?"

The wizard chuckled again. Whether or not she liked the fact that she amused him, she was unsure. He leaned forward across the table to stab at her eggs with his fork. After he consumed a mouthful of eggs and stole a piece of her bacon, she relaxed. Unless he had an antidote for poison or had somehow built up an immunity to it over the years, she would be safe. Perishing in a plate of breakfast seemed a rather ignoble way to go. She hoped that her death would be at least a little more climactic.

They ate in silence for the first few minutes. Unused to a hot meal except for the few times she was able to purchase one from a pub or someone took pity on her, she often resorted to eating cold food out of tins. She would take advantage of hospitality wherever she could. Even if it did come from Malfoy.

"What did you mean when you said I was being tested?"

The question came tumbling out of her mouth between bites. She'd allowed her curiosity to linger dormant too long. Malfoy finished chewing the food in his mouth and wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering with a smile. Something about the question amused him. Hermione wasn't sure if she liked the effect she appeared to be having on him or not. It was all so very, very weird.

"I left the newspapers with you because I wanted to see how you would react. Wanted to see if you would keep running like you have been or if you'd actually try to do something about it."

He returned to his breakfast. She was far from satisfied with his answer. When she confronted him immediately after being practically kidnapped, he'd given her almost the exact same reasoning.

"You said that you hoped I would go to Antonin. Why?"

In what was surely a show of his power over her, Malfoy left her waiting for a response for almost a full minute. He chewed the food in his mouth, filled up another forkful, and ate the next bite. Hermione was growing impatient. If he didn't start giving her answers, she would run. Ignorance was not bliss in her circumstances. Trying to keep her from knowing the truth could be dangerous. There were so many unknowns in her life.

"Because it would prove that you weren't too far gone."

She felt her chest tighten. Unable to continue holding her fork steady due to the trembling of her hands, she set the utensil down in her plate and hid her hand in her lap. Why did his words have such an effect on her? For years, no one really seemed to care much about her well-being, about her psyche. Was he admitting that he actually cared whether or not she was the psychopath her training and experiences made her out to be? Was that why he had taken such pains to keep track of her and find her in the first place? Realizing her mind was going down a treacherous path, there was simply no way that Malfoy cared what happened to her, she shook her head and ceased that line of thinking.

"I'd hoped there was still some humanity left in you. It appears I was right."

Hermione wasn't so sure he was correct in his assumptions, but she didn't rush to contradict him. After all, it was a nice thought. No truth to it, of course, but nice nonetheless.

"I'm afraid I must admit that there were many who weren't so convinced you would pass, Granger."

Malfoy sounded as if he had regret in his tone. Almost as if it bothered him that anyone would question his beliefs. He was a man who wasn't used to being wrong. It didn't mean he meant more by what he said than he did. In an effort to change the subject, she asked another question.

"Will you tell me now who we are waiting for?"

His entire countenance was improved when he smiled, she decided. Used to seeing his brooding, morose expressions, she found it odd to see him so pleased. Perhaps in another world, another time, they might have both been dealt a better hand. Maybe they could've lived in a simpler world and actually known happiness. How very sad that reality wasn't always what one wished.

"If I tell you, Granger, you'll run the first chance you get."

She might still run. Nothing about his reply comforted Hermione in the slightest. Why would she run from the person they were waiting for? She felt a twisting in her stomach, never a good sign.

"But, if I keep you guessing, your famous curiosity will keep you right where I want you. Some parts of us don't ever change."

Malfoy had the nerve to wink.

"Your desire to know everything is still there."