April 21st

She didn't know where she was. Everything was strange. The darkness that surrounded her kept Hermione from getting a clear idea of what was happening. Sounds flooded her ears that made no sense at all. She was disoriented. Like she was stuck in a terrible nightmare that she couldn't wake up from. Her heart pounded in her ears mixing with the cacophony of discordant noises that she didn't understand. Whispering. Rustling in the trees. Footsteps in the grass. Heavy breathing. The deep bark of a dog in the distance. Where was she?

This had happened a few times before in her life. Each occurrence was as frightening as the time before. She wasn't sure what brought it on or why. One second she could be perfectly all right, the next second she couldn't remember how she got to where she was. If it was stress or anxiety or simply being stuck in complete darkness, she could never be certain. She thought the first time it happened was when she was in her broom cupboard, but she wasn't sure what was a memory and what was a figment of her tortured imagination. Trusting what she believed were memories hadn't always been the right course of action.

Maybe the episodes were brought on by what she saw in her dreams, the bits and pieces of images that flew at her while she slept that she could never remember when she woke. Or maybe it was because she was exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep could cure. No one knew. If she was back in Hogsmeade in her own bed, she would be gently woken up by her husband and forced to swallow a damned potion she hated. It stopped the disorientation, the fear, the cold sweats, but only by making her sleep for several days straight. She loathed when he made her drink it because it proved to the world that she had weaknesses. She didn't want anyone to know the truth. They could use it against her if they did.

Rabastan was always trying to figure out how he could use her periods of sick leave from the Ministry to force her out of her position. It bothered him from the first day they entered their special corner of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to start their new department. He thought that it was only fair that since he was both older than she and a follower of the Dark Lord for decades longer that he be given the authority to run the office. When Lord Voldemort made it clear to them in no uncertain terms that they would be equal within the office, he'd all but thrown a temper tantrum. If he suspected for even a single moment that she was unfit for the job, the younger Lestrange would use her perceived illness against her for his own benefit. The wizard was a snake who thought only of himself. It was one of the traits that Hermione admired most about him.

Lying on the hard ground, bits and pieces began to come back to her. She could vaguely remember where she was. Slowly, it made more sense. The Forest of Dean. It was where she'd been safe before. Her boys were with her. Ron was gone, but then he came back. He always did. As much as he infuriated her over the years, he had been loyal. Flawed and imperfect, in so many ways, of course. She understood the desire to leave Harry alone to fight the fight she didn't ask to be dragged into. Knowing that any second of the day she could find herself dead for no other reason than she got in the way of a madman feeling he had to murder her best friend made her want to run too. If she had anyone left that she could run to, she might have done exactly what Ron had. They were all children! Forced to fight a war that should've never been their burden. Poor Harry. It wasn't like he asked for this life. He didn't want anyone to get hurt.

"Harry? Harry, where are you?"

She couldn't see him anywhere. They weren't inside the tent any longer. Where did it go? Had they been separated? At that time of night, they should've all been asleep. Why couldn't she hear their snores? Or even just their breathing? Had she been left alone again?

"Harry?"

A hand gently touched her shoulder. Relieved that she wasn't alone, she looked up to see a worried Draco staring back down at her. He was on his knees, hovering over her body looking as pale as she'd ever seen him. Hermione couldn't understand why he was there. When did he get there? Why?

"Malfoy? Why are you here?"

His brow furrowed at her question. The hand that was laid on her shoulder reached up to brush against the skin of her face. Feeling the cool palm against her cheek and then her forehead confused her further. Never in her acquaintance with the wizard had she seen him behave so kindly. At least not to her. He'd made it clear many times before that he had no use for a filthy, little Mudblood like her. His hand remained cupping her cheek as he stared into her eyes. She considered pushing it off. Only for a moment or two.

"I've been here for hours, Hermione. Remember? You were building the fire and I brought you that dreadful takeaway? If I'd known how terrible it was going to taste, I would've just picked some berries in the forest."

He was trying to make a joke. Malfoy didn't make jokes with her. In the past, there had been more than a few incidents when he'd made jokes at her expense. Once he mentioned their rather dismal meal, she remembered bits and pieces of their conversation. She felt her heart rate begin to decrease. Her thoughts became less fuzzy. They'd talked about Astoria Greengrass. Or, rather he'd mentioned her and then out of politeness, she'd changed the subject. Something about how peaceful the forest was. And then he'd made a disparaging remark about the food. They both laughed when she suggested eating the paper sack that it came in would be more appetizing. In truth, however, she would've eaten just about anything and been thankful. Life as a fugitive made it so her palate wasn't quite so picky as it once was.

Carefully, she sat up. Draco leaned back on his heels. Relaxed somewhat, she could still see the look of concern splashed across his features. He was unnerved by her confusion, by her weakness. As the nighttime sounds of the forest began to make more sense and they no longer sounded so frightening, Hermione began to feel ashamed and embarrassed. Mostly embarrassed. She wanted him to disappear again, to Disapparate away to wherever it was he went when he wasn't around her. Dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap, she felt the burning shame creep up her neck and then onto her face. He seemed in no rush to move away. His concern was evident.

"Hermione…"

He started to say something, but stopped himself. Frustrated with the entire situation, she wanted him to leave. Perhaps if she was rude, he wouldn't linger any longer. Sleeping on the ground of the forest just meters from her when he could easily spend the night in a soft bed made little sense.

"Say what you were going to say."

He sighed.

"You called out for Harry. Potter is dead, Hermione."

She didn't appreciate the words she said in the midst of her confusion being thrown back in her face. Had she not been humiliated enough by the weakening of her battered brain? Showing that side to a potential enemy could get her killed.

"Of course I know that, Malfoy!"

Despite her snapping at him, Draco wasn't upset. If anything, the concern etched across his face only deepened. She didn't have the energy to deal with him any longer. Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and finger, she willed away the headache that was pounding in her brain. Without asking her any further impertinent questions, the wizard reached into the pocket of his robes to remove a small vial. Any hope that that a potion would banish the pain encouraged her to accept the offering. Hermione swallowed it in one gulp, pushing aside the fear that he would ever give her something harmful.

Within moments, her eyelids grew heavy. She laid back down, deeply asleep only moments later.