March 14th

Thinking over Draco's odd behavior the day before had given Hermione a lot to occupy her mind. Life was a bit easier when she had something she could focus on. For the rest of that day and part of the next, she analyzed every moment, every syllable of their conversation. She couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't been so adamant in forcing out a promise from her because he knew more than he was letting on.

Of course, everyone knew more than she did. Part of that had been deliberate. She didn't want to know what was happening in the world. It was much easier to keep pretending like the world did not exist beyond the three feet space encircling her body. If she allowed her mind to dwell to possibilities of outside, she might be inclined to do something foolish. Like return home. Shit mum she might be, but she still felt an obligation to keep her son safe. One word to indicate that he might be caught up in a maelstrom of violence and degradation simply because of the last name he was granted upon birth, she would have to go to him. Maternal instinct and all that rubbish.

It pained her to think of Ollie. A true innocent in everything, she feared that if the Revolution were to be successful, he would be right there with his parents on the execution block. Wouldn't matter that he wasn't even twelve years old yet. He was damned because of his mother's eyes and his father's dark, wavy hair. No one would ever be able to look at him and not know who he belonged to. His DNA was plastered all across his handsome face. Despite her tendency to stray from her marital bed, there was no question who his father was. Not even the worst of the gossips who loathed the very ground she walked on could deny the truth. Even if he was somehow spared the fate that his parents earned, he would never be able to live in his native country without the stain of his heritage marring his existence.

So, whenever she had the chance to think of something other than how she had ruined her son's life before he was even born, she latched on to it. Attempting to decipher Draco's true meaning with the few words he chose the day before became a puzzle her battered mind desired to solve. And remembering how he clung to her hand without letting go was another piece. There had been a few physical touches since their bizarre acquaintance had begun back at the beginning of the year. None like the day before. She didn't understand what he had been trying to do. Was he manipulating her? Trying to make her focus on the wrong details so she didn't catch on to what was really happening?

'Sleight of hand' was what Albert Runcorn called it. In charge of the regime's presence in the culture, he was an expert at his job. The horrid Dolores Umbridge had initially been given the task of supervising the regime-approved newspapers and wireless stations to ensure that nothing was disseminated that went against their established values and practices, but unsurprisingly, she had mucked it all up. Not exactly what one would think was a difficult job, somehow she had failed at it so spectacularly that it had almost cost the bitch her life. Instead, she was demoted to some dusty office in the lowest level of the Ministry filing reports away that no one cared anything about. It had been Hermione's suggestion that she suffer the indignity of following in her father's footsteps as a floor mopper with the Magical Maintenance Department. Considering the witch was so ashamed of her father that she refused to acknowledge he ever existed, it seemed like a fitting punishment. Unfortunately, her idea had been disregarded for something a little less humiliating.

But, Albie had proven himself to be up to the task of becoming a master propagandist. Of course, they never called what he did propaganda. That had a somewhat negative connotation. He knew that if he could get all of the simpleminded citizens' minds focused on something else that he was able to build up as much worse than it actually was, no one would pay the least bit of attention to what was actually happening behind the scenes. Fear was a powerful motivator. He would get the whole society twirled up in such a tizzy about something inconsequential that they didn't have the time or energy to worry about anything else. Some of their most effective laws had been passed because they had been so afraid of a bogeyman that didn't even exist.

Perhaps that was what Draco had been doing. Trying to confuse her with the touch of his hand and the uncharacteristic pleading in his voice. As she finished washing up the dirty dishes from the evening meal, she replayed the scene over and over again. The Jordan family had already vacated the kitchen to enjoy an almost warm evening outside. Each of them were so ready for the winter season to be over that they were attempting to convince themselves that it was warm enough to be outside. Hermione was glad they were gone. The quiet in the house kept her from being distracted from her thoughts.

A loud knock at the front door startled her enough that she almost dropped a bowl she was drying. It was evident that she was out of practice with her reflexes. She was just asking to get killed or captured. Besides, knocking on the door of the house wasn't a common practice in the Resistance's strange village. Usually, they just walked in without care for what might already be going on inside. With all of the inhabitants outside, it was up to Hermione to answer the insistent knock. She set the bowl down next to the sink, wiped her wet hands on a towel, and crossed the room to the door.

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she opened the front door to see Draco standing there. Clearly, she hadn't been looking forward to coming face to face with one of the dozens of residents who wished her dead. Relieved to see a somewhat friendly face, she even granted him a rare, half-smile.

"Sorry to drop by unannounced, but do you have a few minutes?"

Assuring him that she did, Hermione didn't expect him to start walking away from the house. Realizing that she wasn't following him, he turned over his shoulder and gestured with his head for her to come on. Too curious for her own good, she shut the door behind her to walk through the heart of the village. The Jordans weren't the only family trying to take advantage of the break in the chilly temperatures. Hermione kept her head down on the gravel in front of her to avoid glancing up into the disapproving faces or seeing one more terrified mother snatch her innocent child up in her arms. Either Draco didn't notice the reactions of the other villagers or he simply didn't care. She was grateful that he didn't draw any attention to the unfriendly stares.

At the very edge of the village, close to the wards she'd breached, he stopped. Though technically still within the allowed borders, they were far from the other houses. Why he wanted to take her outside when the night was dark to stand in the middle of a grassy field was beyond her. Her curiosity was piqued.

"Do you see that tree over there?"

She wanted to tell him that of course she could see the tree he was pointing too. Did he think that she had somehow lost her eyesight? Resisting the urge to be rude, she nodded.

"Walk towards it."

It was a bizarre request. Just one of many, she supposed. Feeling terribly foolish and not understanding at all what he was after, she made the decision to follow along. Three steps towards the tree and she felt the energy crackle up her arms. Four steps in and she saw the tent. Seemingly out of thin air, her old, familiar tent appeared. Cloaked so no one could see it unless they crossed the barrier, she still didn't understand what Draco was doing. She'd wondered a few times what he had done with her tent after she ran off into the night, but never thought it important enough to ask when she saw him.

"Thought you might like somewhere to stay that wasn't just down the corridor from a girl who asks too many questions."

Hermione didn't know what to say. Needing something to do with her hands, she lifted the tent flap to enter in the space. Everything was back in its usual place. It almost looked as if no time had passed since they were last in the woods alone together. He was only a couple of steps behind her.

"Ginny gave me permission to set it up. She didn't ask why. It's private. No one can cross the barriers without an invitation. Only those who need to know it is here, know it's here."

"Draco, this is…"

"Very thoughtful of me, I know."

His cheeky wink drew out a snort from her that she didn't expect. There was still so much to learn about the wizard. Just when she thought she had him all figured out, he would surprise her with something she didn't expect. She knew to be suspicious of generosity. That was one of the first lessons Antonin hammered into her brain when he was remolding her into the dutiful little Death Eater the Dark Lord desired. At some point, the man would come calling for what he wanted in return. She hoped that it wouldn't be too high a price to pay because she really wanted to stop living in the Jordans' home.

"Thank you."

Her lips were brushing against his stubbled cheek before she realized she'd moved closer to him. It was chaste, nothing to be ashamed of, but she couldn't ignore the sudden burning in her own cheeks at her boldness. Draco's serious expression morphed into a full-blown grin that she was still having trouble getting used to seeing. There had been a time when she saw nothing but a scowl every time she looked at his face. If this was all part of his grand plan, his devious scheme, he was playing a convincing part. She knew it was unwise to let her guard drop for even a moment around another who had been taught at the knee of the same master.

"There is one condition, I'm afraid."

Of course there was. She knew it wouldn't come without strings. Preparing herself for the possibility that she would have to turn down his generous offer and avoid the hidden tent at all costs, Hermione stepped back to get a good look at his face. She wanted to gauge his emotions, make certain he was being honest.

"Nothing too terrible, I promise. I may be spending a bit more time in the village in the near future. I'd like to stay here in the tent, if I may."

She could hardly say 'no' though she might want to. Getting too close to him was precarious. But, she couldn't bear the thought of spending another night down the corridor from Lizzie. Nodding her head in agreement, she was certain that she could handle him. She hadn't survived being a Death Eater for as long as she had without learning how to take care of herself.