February 13th

They were still waiting for their mysterious guest late into the next night. Though he might have tried to make it appear that he was still calm, Hermione could tell that Malfoy was getting worried. Each of them had been using the relative peace and security of the tent in the middle of the woods to catch up on much-needed sleep. Hermione was grateful to not be alone. It made resting so much easier when she knew there was someone else nearby. Even if it was Malfoy.

He apparently traveled extensively. She'd known somewhat what his duties were, what no doubt odious tasks he performed for the Dark Lord, but she didn't know everything. Frankly, she'd never cared. When she was reaching for as much influence as she could and trying to forget her more idealistic past, he was a reminder of a time that would never be again. She tried to ignore his existence as much as possible. Then, when she was on the run for her life, she gave him no thought at all. Not until New Year's when he rudely interrupted her evening.

While they waited, he took advantage of being able to remain in one place to relax. The mattresses in their respective bunks were hardly luxurious, but they'd each slept in less fashionable accommodations. When she finally understood he wasn't going to answer her question about who they were waiting for no matter how many times she asked, she resorted instead to asking him about his job as a tracker.

Most of the time it was assumed that when he was out he was chasing down renegades. Either Resistance members or defected Death Eaters or even a stray random citizen or two who thought they didn't have to actually pay their exorbitant taxes. But honestly, no one really cared where he went or what he did as long as he was discreet. The Dark Lord and his Inner Circle rested easier when the younger Malfoy was away. Like her, it seemed that he was always running and moving from place to place. Unlike her, he had a large, comfortable home with two parents who were happy to open their house to him whenever he was near. Her parents were a part of her history better left undisturbed.

She wasn't sure what time it was when he could no longer sit still. Late. Or very, very early. The sun had been down for hours and the chill in the tent had grown pronounced enough that she'd added extra firewood to the fireplace and put on a heavy jumper over the two she was already wearing. Malfoy's nervousness was evident if his pacing of the tent was any indication. She had never seen him so rattled. Not since the day of the Final Battle when Harry saved his life from the Fiendfyre.

"If you're going to pace, would you mind doing it quietly? I'm trying to sleep."

He didn't even retort with a snarky comeback. Most unlike him. She started to get worried too. Any person who would willingly meet with a couple of known Death Eaters, one on the run and one whose status was so low most didn't even want to associate with him, had to be dangerous. Hermione ran through her mind every single person it could possibly be to try to determine how much trouble she might conceivably be in when they finally did make their appearance. None of the names eased her discomfort.

When it was obvious he wasn't going to respond, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. There was no sense wasting a warm bed. Long minutes passed as she still couldn't fall asleep. Malfoy was being too distracting. She rolled over on her side and put the pillow over her head. Still didn't help. Deciding that maybe they both needed a cup of stolen chamomile tea, she climbed out of the bunk and crossed to the small kitchen.

Before the tea kettle Malfoy graciously filled with the tip of his wand was even steaming, they both jumped at the sudden appearance of a bright, wispy bit of smoke charging into the tent. It might have been a long time since she'd actually seen one, but Hermione recognized a patronus when she saw one. Whatever it was dissipated before she got a good look at the form. She'd been so startled that she hadn't even had the presence of mind to determine the shape.

Her traveling companion's shoulders relaxed. A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. Whoever was announcing their arrival calmed him down considerably. She felt slightly more at ease as well. At the very least, she knew that it wasn't a Death Eater. None of them could cast a patronus worth a damn. It was all part of their chosen profession and the darkness that was required to fulfill one's oath to the Dark Lord. Once upon a time she'd been able to cast one. A happy, carefree otter. Her poor decisions and the blackening of her soul ripped that ability from her. No matter how many times she had tried over the years, she hadn't been successful. Clearly, there wasn't much about her life that was joyful enough. Knowing that they were about to see someone who hadn't allowed Darkness to take root in their soul took away some of Hermione's anxiety.

Draco raised his wand to point it at the flap in their tent. A few whispered incantations later, she could feel the change in the magical wards. She had to trust that Malfoy was allowing someone trustworthy inside their tent. There was no longer any place for her to run.

"Guess you'll finally be able to stop being so mysterious?"

The tent flap opened just as she finished uttering her mocking question. Whatever calm she'd managed to develop in those previous few minutes disappeared the second she saw the cruel grin splashed across William Wood's face. There was no warmth or pleasure in the expression. The brother of the first man she killed only had eyes for her.

Perhaps she finally had her answer for who it was that hired Draco Malfoy to track her down. It made sense. Malfoy was something of a renegade, neither fully on the side of the Death Eaters nor on the side of the Resistance. Hated by both sides, it wasn't inconceivable to imagine that he would seek out the other side for additional work. Maybe Wood had been exploiting his unique set of skills to ensure a day would come when he could finally exact his revenge.

As much as she knew she deserved it and often longed for death, Hermione wasn't going down without a fight. She ripped the wand she kept hidden in her pocket out. Wood's grin only increased. Clearly, he was a man who enjoyed a good fight. She would give him one.

"Put your wand away, Hermione. We don't want your beloved husband to know where you're at."

The sound of a new voice, one she hadn't heard in a very long time, shocked Hermione enough to take her eyes off of the potentially unstable man. A woman stood in the entrance of the tent. Her bright red mane of hair could only belong to Ginny Weasley. Far from being encouraged by the younger witch's presence, the fugitive Death Eater had rarely been so frightened.