March 13th

A break in the harsh winter weather arrived just as Hermione feared that she would go crazy being cooped up inside her bedroom for much longer. Unable to admit to the Jordan parents what she thought might be happening in their daughter's mind, she opted to spend less and less time outside of what had been both her sanctuary and her cell. With the sun high in the sky, she was able to sit on the steps leading down to the back garden wearing little more than a jumper.

No matter how hard she tried not to, she couldn't help but think about the fact that warmer weather meant that returning to her fugitive state outside of the Resistance stronghold would be much easier once she no longer had to worry about freezing to death every night. She'd run from Hogsmeade in mid-May. The late spring and summer months had been a deceptive guide to base the rest of her adventures on. When she first ran, she didn't have to worry about snow or finding adequate heat. It had almost been easy. If she was going to run again, the time of year to do so was rapidly approaching.

One reason she hadn't stirred far was due to the fact that she had yet to hear anything from the Resistance leaders as to why they were providing her a safe haven. Nothing was done out of the goodness of one's heart any longer. There was an agenda. She wanted to know what it was.

Everyone she had talked to since the first of the year had been under the impression that something big was coming. Something positively Earth-shaking and life-changing. She wasn't sure if it was the naïveté of those who didn't really understand how the world worked or if a plan was already being put into motion to tear down what she'd spent so many years helping to build up. Regardless of which it was, she longed to discover a reason to hope for change.

Not since the day that she sat with Ginny in her bedroom to discuss only the barest minimum of facts about her life with the Resistance and her past with William Wood had any of the leaders even bothered to approach their resident Death Eater. There hadn't been much activity in the village either. While she sat at the window staring out the tiniest break in her curtains to keep from being observed watching the rest of the inhabitants, she tried to discover if something was stirring. None of the leaders had been spotted. No one spoke to her about what they wanted to do next. None of them had even approached her to find out why she was seen leaving the protective wards. Either they didn't care what she did or they were too busy.

She knew that she might be able to gather more information if she just asked Lee. Once his wireless set was up and working again, he'd been able to broadcast most days. The first step to ensuring a successful revolution was to educate the masses. His function within the Resistance was supremely important. Though she knew that propaganda was very often sprinkled with just enough truth to keep from being a complete lie, she was also aware that he would know more than she did. Perhaps if she just bothered to listen to one of his broadcasts she could glean something that might be useful, something might tell her if she was wasting her time remaining in the village or not.

If she was honest with herself, and she was trying to do that as little as possible, she might have come to the conclusion that she simply didn't want to know what was happening because for the moment, she was satisfied where she was. Even if every single person that lived near her hated her very guts and longed for the day they could end her sorry existence, the alternative wasn't attractive. She liked not having to worry about where she was going to spend the night. Because of the somewhat protected status of the Resistance's corner of Devon, she hadn't had to fear that Antonin or any of his mates would come find her. If they were even aware of her location, they wouldn't seek her out. Not unless she chose to run again.

Lee and Sarah had been dear friends. Or, as close to friends as she was sure she would ever have again. Because of who she was and what she had done in the past, there would always be the slightest barrier between them for their own protection. None of them could afford to get too close to the other side. But, they had done a great deal to ensure that she didn't always feel like she was a bug just waiting to be squashed under a giant shoe. They tried to make her a part of their family in the very limited way they could. She appreciated the effort, as misguided as it was. If they were smarter, they would throw her out the front door and demand that she stay as far away from their girls as physically possible. The traits that existed in them to make them such sweet, friendly people were detrimental when it came to people like Hermione. There was a time in her life, and it hadn't been that long ago, that she would have exploited them for everything they were. Sometimes positive personality traits and characteristics were weaknesses.

"Mind if I join you?"

Hermione's thoughts had been so focused on her host family that she hadn't even noticed the approach of one of the few potential allies she had in the entire world. Shielding her eyes with her hand from the glare of the sun, she stared up at Draco Malfoy for at least a beat or two before she nodded her head. With a friendly smile that still felt strange to see sent in her direction, he sat down on the step next to her only centimeters away.

"Looks like winter is almost over. Not a moment too soon, if you ask me."

"Did you come to talk about the weather, Draco, or is there something else?"

Long periods of isolation had dulled her social graces. Even she was aware. Draco, however, wasn't offended. A smirk crossed his lips. He stared at her for longer than was polite. Only when she was beginning to squirm under his uncomfortable gaze did he answer her question.

"I wanted to see if you had been thinking any more about running."

She could appreciate a man who got straight to the point. At least when it was demanded of him first. Draco Malfoy learned enough of the fussy manners required of members of his family's former social circle to understand how to direct a conversation with the utmost decorum and civility. He was taught from a young age how to imitate the somewhat courtly speech of his father and grandfather. There were other ways to get information from a person than to ask them directly. The social class that the Malfoy family had been a part of once upon a time no longer existed. In the attempt to bring everyone to a more equal social footing, Mudbloods excluded, of course, the elites had been replaced with a new breed of witch and wizard. The Malfoys were a dying breed. Somewhat literally even. Despite his orders that all of his Death Eaters marry and procreate, somehow Draco had been exempted from that duty. She wondered why.

"I probably should run."

As they often did when he was around, her words fell out of her mouth unbidden. Something about his presence made her say and act in a manner that she wouldn't ordinarily. Whatever the reason, it was dangerous. Letting her guard slip even the slightest around anyone was just asking for trouble. Deciding that she had already gone too far, Hermione made the decision to unburden her worrisome thoughts on the one person around who might actually be able to understand them.

"Lizzie Jordan is obsessed with Death Eaters."

"Is she the…"

"The older one. Eight years old and she's already been asking me questions she has no business asking. Seems to find us fascinating."

Draco took a deep breath and exhaled it in a dramatic huff. She appreciated the fact that it was clear he understood her concerns. They had both had reason over their long careers as Death Eaters to cross paths with those who thought they desired to live the same sort of dangerous existence. He had had no choice but to offer his arm to the Dark Lord. Likewise, she had been given a choice, but not a fair one. Both forced into his service, they'd gone their separate ways. He performed his duties with a reluctance that wasn't difficult to spot and she performed hers with an ardor that consumed her very being.

"Have you told the girl's parents?"

"No. They'd throw me out in a second. Not that I'd blame them. They should do it anyway."

They sat in the companionable silence that at some point had become a factor in their relationship. Hermione was hesitant to call what they had a friendship of any sort. It had been years since she had one of those. Or at least one that she could be certain wasn't just another sycophant trying to figure out a way to get more favor with the Dark Lord by using her status. Alecto had been kind to her, but even she had an agenda. From the moment that Hermione killed her brother in a brutal manner and she continued to seek out a friendship, she had been suspicious. Who in their right mind would want to befriend the person who tortured their relative to death? But, Allie had her uses. She wasn't in a rush to get rid of any ties she had with the older witch. That wasn't exactly what one could call a friendship, however.

"If they threw you out, where would you go?"

It was an odd question. Surely he was intelligent enough to understand that she didn't have many options available to her if the Jordans wanted nothing to do with her. The Zellers weren't likely to open their door to the witch who was responsible for their daughter Rose's death. Nor would any of the others. Without the charmingly naïve couple who had taken her in, she would need to leave the village and quickly.

"I couldn't exactly stay here, could I? I guess I'd be back out there, moving from place to place."

"And in constant danger of being captured."

It was her turn to sigh. She didn't have much choice. Why did he even care? The cool, steady tone he usually spoke in rose ever so slightly with each word he uttered. Something in their conversation was riling him up. To her complete shock and surprise, Draco grabbed her hand in a tight squeeze.

"Please don't leave, Hermione."

She had never heard him beg before. Never heard him plead. Even when he was asking her nicely to return to the village after her short escape, his voice hadn't been filled with so much emotion. Was there more to his request than he was letting on? He didn't release her hand. Only tightened his grip.

"Promise me you won't leave the village."

Though she had a policy to never make promises she couldn't be sure she'd keep, she granted him a small nod. Relaxing slightly when she did, Draco released her hand and made his excuses. She remained on the back steps staring at the break in the hedges he'd disappeared into for a long time.