A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting! I'm doing something horrible and writing as I go. I'm very impatient for a Slytherin who is supposed to be cunning! One day, I'd like to have a story completely written and then post, wouldn't that be ideal? Until then, I will just have to do it this way. I've been on a Dramione kick lately, what with two facebook challenges (one sweet and rated T, though kind of a Tomione and another most definitely not rated T, both of which I can't wait to post once the challenge is over). Plus I have the next chapter of A Past Erased written and it is just waiting to be BETA'd! It's been a productive month and I should have really written for my Tomione WIP but like I said, I've really been feeling Dramione so I just went where the muse took me! I've also recently delved into the world of Photoshop (such a distraction!) and have been doing some Dramione edits. Find me there or on FB if you like!

Beta love to Carrington Shaw C:

A big thanks to those that followed and favorited. Also, much love to the reviewers! helpfulfred, LeanaM, Alina, dragonlovermudblood, sleepgirl, tneha, chizarak, sugarspice92, Green Eyed Lana Lee, windyshoes, beth, daswhoiam, LaBellaVita212, Snaflopteryx, Landre, and the the guests-thanks so much for your feedback!


000

"I can't understand it," Harry Potter mused, leaning over the railing of his ship and staring at the endless sea of blue. "How could the compass have been off? It never has been before."

"Perhaps some fluke," Ronald Weasley, his first mate, suggested. "I told you it couldn't be right, but you wouldn't listen, would you?"

"It should be right," Harry said thoughtfully. "It's the creation of Bellatrix Black, herself. Many have died in search of her compass."

"I don't see why," Ronald scoffed. "It was easy enough to find on Devil's Rock."

"You say that now," Tracy Davis said as she slinked her arms around Harry's neck. "But it was Cho and Ginevra who broke that old hag's wards in the first place."

"Looked easy," Ronald argued.

Harry said nothing, instead, staring out over the ocean once more. How was it that the compass had led them astray? The compass was supposed to detect the presence of magic, glowing bright when sensing magic of the strongest sort. Only this particular artifact was geared towards tracking down the magic of Muggleborns. One did not need such a tool for Purebloods, as there was no denying when they were around. The lot of them were haughty and superficial, proclaiming their presence loudly, save for his rag-tag team of bandits.

Sirius and Regulus Black, Neville Longbottom, Tracey and Tessie Davis, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Cedric Diggory, and all the Weasleys. Not to mention the staggering amount of Muggleborns that had happily sworn their allegiance. Jeffrey, Alexandria, Pewter, and Minnie who were all part of his crew, in addition to those they had left back at Godric's Hollow to man the base.

Truthfully, the Resistance's numbers were swelling larger than he could have hoped for. Despite King Riddle's efforts to place Muggles under population control, many were still giving birth to magical children. Most made the mistake of showcasing their magical abilities before their Pureblood oppressors, but there were still some smart enough to conceal it, and it was those that Harry targeted.

Of course, there was only so much he could do with one compass and three stolen ships. William and Charles Weasley each had a ship to man and a crew to aid them. Harry would send messages via Patronus with coordinates of where he sensed Muggleborns, at least the ones being carted overseas. Procuring the ones already serving magical households was much harder. They were usually branded and warded, not to mention frightened from years of servitude. Still, they had many successful missions in extracting Muggleborns and house elves alike.

He knew Riddle was at his wit's end trying to figure out a way to get to them before he could. Harry hadn't been the only one searching for Bellatrix's compass. Earlier this year, he'd sent Diggory, both Black brothers, and Lovegood on a covert mission to infiltrate the Ministry. His best compatriots were successful in eviscerating all progress the Ministry had made on discovering Muggleborns as soon as they were born. It would take years to get as close as they had been again. So many Arithmancy calculations, so much Runic knowledge, from years of the brightest witches and wizards compiling their work on the project, spanning multiple generations, all lost—and thanks to him and his crew.

Harry couldn't help but feel quite proud. He was the only one to have the knowledge in the form of the crude compass, and he detained Dame Black so none could use her knowledge of the spell she used in creating more devices to target them. He chuckled at the thought of how angry Riddle and Bellatrix both were, that he was using her magical object in such a way. The Muggleborns only needed to hold on a bit longer, and they would get a chance for the Order of the Phoenix to save them.

They were small victories to be sure, but victories just the same.

Still, Harry could not help but feel the sting of defeat as he could not shake the feeling that he'd let a powerful Muggleborn slip through his fingers.

He'd spent the days chasing Malfoy's ship wondering how stupid the insufferable Malfoy prat would have to be to not sense such powerful magic aboard his vessel. Purebloods in general were vastly unaware of the power Muggleborns held. They mostly dismissed it as equal to that of trolls, neglecting completely to recognize it for what it was—equal to their own, if not in some cases, like this one—greater still.

That was one thing he could say about Riddle at least—the mad king was aware of the power those he'd labeled inferior were capable of wielding—it's why he oppressed them so.

If there was anyone that should know, it was Harry.

Harry witnessed firsthand the depths of depravity being a slave to Purebloods could plummet to. The scar on his forehead throbbed at the reminder. Nothing was worse than serving King Riddle himself.

Clenching his fists by his side, he was brought back to the present by Tracey's hand rubbing soothing circles below his neck. She assessed him with a concerned look.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I got lost for a bit." He smiled apologetically. "It's only…I can't help but feel the compass was right."

"But all those Muggles," Ronald argued. "We searched through the lot of them, even the ones bobbing in the water, and none showed any magical capability. What are we going to do with them, anyway?"

"The question is," Tracey started darkly. "Why we Obliviated those wizards and sent them back in a boat to England. That was far too good a sentence than they deserved."

"Riddle is just going to torture them anyway, try to reverse the Obliviation," Ronald added.

"Not my problem," Harry said evenly. "At any rate, they have no real valuable information, nothing the court does not already know, that is. And we show mercy to our prisoners, because we fight for the light; we must at least distinguish ourselves from them. The last thing I want to do is bring them back to the Hollow and have more unworking mouths to feed. The Muggles will be given the opportunity to work at one of our bases for fair wages, and if they do not wish to, they simply can be Obliviated and sent on their merry way, like always."

"Fair enough," Ronald said. "The one Muggle we got from the last batch turned out to be fairly good at making treacle tarts."

"I can't really think about food right now." Harry fingered the compass, furrowing his brows in concentration. It glowed hotter when a Muggleborn was nearer, it did not stop until touched by the person. It tracked the Muggles with magic closest to the compass. Either his eyes were deceiving him, or the object was still glowing, ever so slightly. Even now, miles away from any land, and deep in the Caribbean seas.

"Maybe the person just drowned like some of the others," Ronald proposed, sensing his friend's distress.

"No, she wouldn't have went that way, not her."

"I think you're just obsessed with this apparition you've conjured," Tracey said nastily. "I mean, you even named her a girl and everything. What if it was some man, old in age? He probably hit the water and drowned, just like Ronald said."

"No, it was a girl. I just have this feeling. Just like I have the feeling she's still out there." Harry glanced over the ocean once more, noticing the way the compass was still warm to the touch. "I feel like she's slipped through our fingers." Tracey gave an exasperated sigh. "I think we should follow the compass. Maybe it is defective, but it's still glowing as if a Muggleborn is in the vicinity, I'm sure of it, and it wouldn't if she were dead. We're already here, might as well have a quick once over."

Harry could not shake the feeling that she was out there somewhere. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps they would need to make another visit to a very disgruntled and restrained Dame Black back on Devil's Rock, but if there was a chance the compass was right…he'd simply have to pursue it.

000

Hermione looked around appreciatively at the shelter she had half built, half conjured. It had taken her nearly a week, with working on the magical side of things covertly as she had, but now, it seemed like the hard work had paid off.

Besides, it's not as if he notices anyway. Purebloods never see what's right in front of them, so caught up in themselves as they are. She snickered at the thought.

It was odd really—never in her life had she imagined she, Hermione Granger, would be bossing around a Pureblood, and he would be listening to her!

Malfoy and she had developed a rather easy-going relationship. She knew he saw her as an asset and thought himself helpless in this situation, so really, he was forced to seek her help, but she actually found she rather liked being around the pompous blond. He was turning out to be a hard-worker, and she certainly admired that.

In general, Hermione liked being around people. Even if she was not socially allowed to voice her thoughts or convey her feelings, she at least liked to watch and observe. Purebloods were not wholly different from any other humans she'd witnessed. They still cared for their families, fell in love, liked to pursue their own interests and knowledge. Really, they were more alike than they were different.

If it wasn't for the walls of prejudice erected tall and thick between them, Hermione did not see why they could not get along in the world peacefully—as equals.

Only, that simply was not the way of things, and Hermione had no choice but to conform to the role society had so unfairly placed upon her. It was difficult to accept, but she was a survivor, an adaptor if nothing else, so she did.

Yet here, with Malfoy, she did not need to suffocate herself so.

Sure, he had voiced his concern over the way she spoke so freely, so demanding…at first. But now, he seemed to accept that she liked to prattle on and when he was getting irritated; she could usually shut him up with a tasty meal.

Besides, secretly, she guessed that he liked listening to her talk.

She would often times find him listening intently, yet trying to appear aloof and uncaring. Still, she could see the corners of his lips turned up, itching to smile, she could see the sparkle in his eye, and there was no denying the respectful way in which he regarded her. He treated her like an equal, a far cry from the Muggle-scum he had treated her like on the first day. Really, the blond was quite easy to get along with. He liked her company, whether he admitted it or not, and she liked his.

To say nothing of his good looks.

Hermione frowned. It was true that Malfoy was quite the looker. He normally wore a sneer on his face so you could hardly tell there was anything handsome underneath it, but she'd caught it on occasion. Those times she took him by surprise, when she'd splashed him right in the face as they'd gathered flat rocks from the pool, when she told him stories before the fire, or simply when she proclaimed a meal was ready. He would let his guard down for a moment, and then she would see it. Handsome, striking beauty, undeniable really. She would look away quickly, she always did, lest she blush and mortify herself, but it wasn't like she ever forgot.

"What did you do now," Malfoy said, startling her out of her silent musings. She looked up quickly, admiring the way his hair looked so tousled in the morning. She quickly averted her gaze, frowning at how distracted she could get sometimes.

"Been doing some more work on the treehouse," she answered proudly.

"More work," he mimicked. "Looks to me like you've finished the damn thing. I didn't sleep in that long, did I? And I was only just working on the staircase yesterday."

"Yes, well, it is late morning. And as you can see, I finished the staircase. I'd have thought you'd be pleased; not to have to wake up with water dredging up your legs from the rain again. We clearly had need of a structure above the ground."

Not to mention the mornings waking up with my leg thrown over his and his arm around my back. That was plenty awkward enough and happened far too many times. She blushed at the memory.

"I'm happy, just surprised. I hadn't thought there were trees thick enough to fix a shelter to. I suppose I just missed this one."

"No worries, you are highly unobservant after all." He scoffed at that. Ignoring it, she gestured excitedly. "Come on, don't you want to see our new shelter?"

He smirked at her obvious excitement and nodded. She led them up the stairs that went up one flight before veering to the right.

"How did you manage to connect the stairs to the shelter we've been working on? We had trouble with the vines yesterday," he reminded her.

"Secured them to more poles," she answered quickly. Magically, she snickered.

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"Fairly."

The shelter was rectangular in shape and rested on and alongside sturdy branches. They had been using vines, sap, and a hammer and wooden nails she's carved with the blades, in order to piece it together, but they'd still run into problems. Now of course, it was sturdy as ever.

"It's fairly large," Malfoy commented, ducking under the low hanging wall and stepping into the structure.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, nodding proudly. "I told you with that extra set of poles we'd be able to add room for a table and two beds."

"I remember."

"I cut out a window here, where we can see the waterfall, and over here, where just through those trees you can barely make out the beach."

"Convenient."

"Yes, but we should probably work on getting leaves, large enough to cover the window should it rain again."

"Those trees above the waterfall," he pointed up the cliff a bit. "They seem to be large enough."

"Oh, and a hike would be nice," she said, folding her hands together, pleased. "Look," she gestured to the table. "Coconut milk and fruit to break our fast. We'll need it for that hike."

Malfoy sat down on the stools they had made out of bamboo earlier that week and began eating eagerly.

"There's one more surprise," Hermione began slyly. "Though I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with the contents."

"What?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

"The other barrel, it opened."

"It opened," he repeated, setting down his coconut. "How so, when it was magically sealed?"

"Perhaps it wasn't. I don't know. All I know is the rain must have worn on it or something, it popped off easily when I tried to pry it open."

He got up and walked towards the exit. Hermione followed.

"Where'd you put it?"

"It's under the stairs. I couldn't quite get the lid back on."

They walked down hurriedly before they reached the ground and rounded the stair case. He strode up to the barrel and lifted the lid. He raised his brows as the smell of rum assaulted him. A smile spread across his face, somewhat covered by the shadow of the stairs.

"I thought you'd be happy," Hermione said smugly. "Only, more rice and beans would have been preferential."

"We have plenty, and it's not like we're going to be here for that long."

Hermione raised her eyebrows but said nothing. This place isn't so bad—I can actually be myself here. And there's no insufferable government dictating everything I do.

"Well, I suppose it will liven up things. Maybe I can put it in my coconut milk, the stench is awful."

Malfoy snorted. "You can't possibly mean to think you will be partaking in this."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Hermione, consuming alcoholic beverages is something men do. It would be unfitting for a lady."

Okay, maybe he doesn't look at us as quite equals. "Please," she scoffed. "I can do anything you can do. And there aren't any rules here."

"You're incorrigible, aren't you? I doubt there is another woman like you anywhere in the world." He reached for a leaf from a nearby tree.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" He dipped the leaf into the liquid.

"You can't drink before the evening meal, before noon!"

Malfoy looked up quizzically at her. "You just said there were no rules, Hermione." He brought the leaf up to his mouth and sucked the contents down quickly. "Relax, it's only a shot, maybe two. Just wanted a taste."

"That's smart before hiking," she said sarcastically before taking the leaf. "You know, the papaya leaves would be better, more cup-shaped. Or the shells, at least."

"Such a bloody hypocrite," he said, shaking his head. Hermione ignored him, dipping the leaf back into the barrel. She looked up to see his eyes fixated on her. She swallowed audibly as she realized she was using the same leaf he had drunk from, and hadn't even snapped to it. Too far into it now, she threw caution to the wind and tilted the leaf back to suck up the sweet liquid, ignoring the way his eyes had fallen to her lips. She squinted at the repugnant after taste. The rum burned as it took it's time going down her throat. She had the instinct to gag but stopped herself from doing it. She shook her head, attempting to regain her bearings. "Well that was comical," he said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and took three steps forward, intending on pushing him in the chest, but failing miserably as her foot caught on the hem of her dress. She lost her footing and fell haphazardly towards him. She was caught by strong arms. When she looked up, she found her face was far too close to his. Her breathing stopped as she stared lost in his gray eyes that at that moment looked like hot metal.

She bit her lip in an attempt to wake herself up but was hard pressed to do so.

She was spellbound.

Malfoy's grip was relentless, but as if he'd come to his senses, he relaxed and set her right, back onto her feet. "And that is why alcohol is not for the weaker gender. Only harlots and whores consume it."

"Oh please," Hermione said dismissively. "This is special circumstances, and if it weren't for this bloody dress, I wouldn't have tripped in the first place." She giggled at his look of disapproval. "I think I'll go get some trousers and a shirt out of the crate. This isn't suitable for a hike."

"How in Salazar's name are you going to wear men's clothes?" he called after her, aghast.

"By cinching it, of course," she replied tersely.

Hermione had to suppress another giggle; Malfoy was so fun to shock. She found herself rather looking forward to this hike.

000

The bloody vixen, he thought. She's probably had scores of men, what with being a servant. I'm sure she thinks she could play me just like she's probably done to many before.

Draco was irate. When he saw her drinking from the same leaf, the same part he'd drank from, all he could think was—she's tasting me.

Even so, his foul mood didn't last long. Hermione always had a way of lightening up any situation. Really, her cheerful countenance was a bit contagious.

Wearing men's trousers and drinking rum—it's completely uncouth, and I shouldn't be allowing it. He was shocked by how much he let slide when it came to her, but what could he do? Even though he was wandless, he still had his brute strength, that was true, but to force her to comply with his demands in such a way repulsed him. It was far easier to simply do things her way, at least while they were here. She was much more agreeable when she wasn't fighting against him anyway.

He quietly finished his breakfast, noticing that she had yet to touch hers. He wondered how the collection of fruits could taste so appetizing for the eighth day in a row. He supposed it was due to the memory of having not eaten for two days—anything was appealing after that.

When Hermione came rounding the corner of their makeshift home, he chuckled at the site of her. The brown trousers were rolled up four or five times at her waist so that her ankles were showing. She had an oversized white shirt tied wrap style instead of buttoned. She even had some sort of burlap hat tied together with vines around her neck.

"No shoes," he remarked.

"Nothing suitable for slick rocks. Barefoot would be best, I think."

She was always so logical; never one to care for artifacts or things ladies usually dwelt on. It was actually a bit refreshing.

"I think you're right," he said, leaning down to take off his own shoes.

"What's this? The great Draco Malfoy admits I'm right?" She put a hand jauntily on her hip, a very defined, eye-catching hip, and stared at him challengingly.

"It's clear Muggle things are your area of expertise."

"Hmph. Basic survival skills, you mean."

"Call it what you like. Aren't you going to eat your breakfast?"

She snatched up the shell of fruit, already getting juicy from sitting so long. "I'll eat it on the go," she replied. "Come on."

Draco rolled his eyes but got up nonetheless.

"What's the best way to go about it?" she asked, throwing the empty shell to the ground. "Right side or left?"

He eyed the steep cliff. "The right I think, less steep. But there isn't a recognizable trail. Perhaps I should go myself? I can throw the leaves down to you."

Hermione snorted as she headed off to the right side of the fall, ignoring his attempt at chivalry.

"You're right," she said. "It isn't so steep this way. Lots of rocks to climb over, but manageable."

They made their way up quietly. He stayed right behind her, keeping a close eye to see that she wasn't slipping. The way got steeper about at the halfway point, and Draco stayed on high alert.

"We better go check our pool at the beach after this, see what kind of fish we have today," she said.

"Didn't catch any yesterday."

"Clam is just as good though."

"I suppose."

When they reached the top, Draco was not pleased to find they would need to climb their way over, as it was too high to step over. He searched for a vine or something they could use to pull themselves up but didn't see anything useable.

"Here," Hermione said thrusting the vine in his hand. "You go, then I will."

"Where'd you find that?" he said frowning. "It wasn't there a second ago."

"Don't be silly, of course it was."

Draco yanked on it, testing it, but the vine seemed to be tethered and sturdy. He quickly pulled himself up the short distance before turning around and tossing the vine back down to her.

She was quite competent in pulling herself up initially, but he had to ultimately reach down and pull her up over the ledge. She landed halfway on top of him and hurried to scurry off.

He got up and dusted himself off as elegantly as he could. "All for some bloody leaves."

"No," she said breathlessly, facing the direction of their camp. "All for this view."

He turned around to see what she was looking at, surprised he hadn't noticed immediately. It really was a stunning view. The pool below edged by a thick canopy of trees led to their pristine beach and lagoon. The island was quite large and the picturesque ocean was a sight to behold.

"Look, Malfoy, behind you."

He turned around to see more little waterfalls falling from an even higher cliff. They poured into a rounder pool. This one looked deeper than the one below, and there was a cluster of rocks forming a grotto at one end of it. Draco had walked a little further up, admiring the shrubbery and flowers surrounding it, when he was taken by surprise and felt himself freefalling into the cool water below.

He came up splashing and sputtering. "You pushed me," he said unbelievingly.

"Well yes, you did need to let loose, after all."

Seething, he growled, "Alarte Ascendare!"

Hermione's eyes widened as she was catapulted up into the air. She flailed and screamed as she came back down, landing with a loud splash in the water. He was surprised he was able to do the spell, one he'd used often in dueling. It was a few more seconds before she came back up with a gasp.

"Malfoy, you can do wandless magic?"

"Well, I never really tried that much," he answered honestly, surprise etched on his face. "Nonverbal, of course, but wandless was always so hard."

She swam to the side of the pool where it was shallower. "I don't know why you wouldn't have made yourself learn it. What if someone were to disarm you? Then what would you do?"

"It's not that easy, Hermione. Everything is not always so bloody simple."

"Try to summon that twig right there," she suggested, pointing to a stick a few yards away.

He raised his eyebrows at the challenge. He didn't see the harm in trying, and he was curious. "Accio twig," he called imperiously.

Nothing happened.

"Perhaps it only worked in your rage," she said thoughtfully. "Which by the way, what if I had hurt myself? What if the water wasn't deep enough for how high you jumped me?"

"I knew it was deep once you pushed me in," he said defensively. "Besides, my magic wouldn't have hurt you."

"Well, at least we found you're not hopeless at using magic without a wand."

"There you go again. Talking about magical things like you're some expert."

"Malfoy," she said evenly, swimming back into the water and floating on her back. He tried to ignore the way the wet clothes clung to her body, or the way the sight of her feminine curves did funny things to him. Not to mention her serene face, content with basking in the sunlight. "I told you time and time again; I grew up in a magical household. Perhaps Muggles aren't as stupid as you've always believed."

"I guarantee you, I've never met a Muggle before as aware as you."

"They're just better at hiding it, or beat down so much they learn to conceal their feelings."

"Hmph," he scoffed. "Doubtfully."

"Oh, look, Malfoy," Hermione said, gesturing to leafy vegetation edging the pool. "It's floating lettuce. We can have salad for lunch."

"Are you sure that's edible?" he asked uncertainly.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she made her way over to the plant. "Pistia Stratiotes is most certainly edible. It's like iceberg, but richer in vitamins, and really something we need. We don't get near enough vegetables."

"It looks odd."

"See those leaves growing above the stocks? That's the edible part." She was already plucking a few heads of the lettuce and tossing it to the side.

"How do you know all this?"

"An Herbology book. A picture one," she amended.

"You can cut it out. I already know you know how to read."

"How?" she asked simply.

"You're an insufferable know-it-all. I'm sure there's no knowledge you wouldn't have got your hands on."

It was true. Hermione was quite the resourceful one. Begrudgingly, he had to admit she'd earned at least a shred of respect from him. He may be able to slowly teach himself some simple wandless spells, but she was the one who had initially saved them both. He was grateful he'd ended up with such a competent Muggle. Unfortunately, it seemed she had recognized his cutting words for the compliment they were.

"Thanks, Malfoy! I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me all week." She grabbed him by the shoulders and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Let's gather those leaves and throw them down with the lettuce heads. It's not too far down, I wish we could just jump." He was frozen in his spot, floating in the water, but she didn't seem to notice as she prattled on. "That little cliff right there would be perfect to jump from. Looks about nine meters high." He still wasn't moving, and Hermione swam back to grab his arm. "Come on. What if there's some red snapper in that pool of ours? Can you imagine a red snapper salad, it'd be grand."

Schooling his features, he let the enigma of a girl pull him towards the big-leafed trees. She'd kissed him on the cheek, merely a swift, innocent kiss, and he'd nearly lost his breath over it. It was difficult to rectify, how a Muggle-girl could affect him so, yet it was becoming difficult to deny. He'd always wondered how half-bloods could ever exist, what type of Pureblood would soil themselves so, but he was beginning to see, just barely, how something like that could occur.

That night, after a hearty lunch of red snapper fish salad and dinner using the leftover fish, he dreamt about kisses, under the moonlight, in the grotto in between the waterfalls. Wild brown locks curled around his fingers as her soft body molded against his. He awoke in a most uncomfortable state.