Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

A/N: First, let me apologize for a major error in the last chapter. It was not the Three Broomsticks in third year, it was the Hogs Head in fifth year, which of course I was aware of but I didn't catch it though many of you did. Sorry for that. I know it was distracting to some of you. Also, thanks for the reviews. I love to hear from readers. Due to time constraints created by school, I wasn't able to reply personally to each this time, but I hope to do that in the future and I plan to go back to reply. As for the wait, I was out of town for a long time to see relatives, then it was my brithday, and now I've moved back into at college and started classes. Bear with me; I shall try my best to make up for it soon.

Stolen

"The heart has its reasons reason knows nothing of."-Blaise Pascal

Part IV: Not Yet Certain

Chapter 32: Happy Christmas

Everything. He wanted to know everything, but Hermione thought Draco had recently faced more reality than he could contend with at once. No matter what he thought he wanted to know, she knew better. Horcruxes were the last thing he was ready for and she wasn't about to risk him going into shock or having a mental breakdown, not while they were on the run. For now, she would have to take charge. She would have to figure things out herself and once he had had some time, then maybe he could help her. Maybe, given some time, he'd be okay.

Where ever they went next should be somewhere secluded, somewhere Draco could recover. Ideas flew through her mind, each quickly shot down due to some gaping flaw. It all came back to one thing: money. She was right of course, she couldn't just walk into a bank and withdraw money if she was dead and Draco couldn't go near Gringotts if he wanted to live very long. Even if they used the polyjuice potion to enter someone else's vault, they would need the vault key which they didn't have. She knew what his suggestion would be, but if she could at all help it she was not going to steal. The only person they could ask for money would be Snape and that would have to be an absolute last resort. There was no telling how closely the Order or Voldemort watched him. She had promised him no further contact; that was the plan, the only way it would work. There was one thing left he could do for them and then they would have to fend for themselves. But how?

They needed to go somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere no one would guess to look for them. She also knew they would be safest traveling as muggles, not using magic would make it harder to track them. Buses and trains would cost money, as did hotel rooms, and how were they to get a job with no diploma or credentials? They didn't even have birth certificates or addresses. It was hopeless.

She did not tell him that of course. Instead, she ran him a bath at which he started in surprise. He was in there a while, giving her time to think. As time ticked on she grew hungry again, but ignored it. There would be no more food today. Happy Christmas, she thought sourly and flipped on the telly. A black and white film played: Miracle on 34th street. That's what they needed, a miracle. Well, it was Christmas after all. If such a thing were to happen, certainly it could happen to them. Maybe someone would show up looking an awful lot like Father Christmas and he would hand them a train ticket and wink merrily. Yeah. Right.

Of course there had already been one miracle; that vaguely familiar looking man Draco had somehow known. How Draco would come to know a homeless muggle still puzzled her, but she left that mystery for later. That man had put a roof over their heads when they most needed it. In a way, it had been the best gift either had ever received. He had been their Father Christmas.

But they must be gone in the morning and back to the real question at hand: how? Of course, a simple memory modification or disillusionment charm would suffice to get the on a train undetected. However, using magic to sneak onto a public transit would be risky. A wizard might spot them or the ministry could use a magical trace to find them.

Hermione Granger was known by many for finding the one solution to a tricky problem. Sometimes, before the solution occurred to her she could feel herself getting close. Other times however, like right then, it hit her like a splash of cold water. It felt like she didn't come up with it at all, like someone else had whispered it in her ear. And then she would think to herself, as she did just then, how could she not have seen it before?

She had to act quickly. Half a second later, she snuck out of the room swiftly hoping to return before he emerged from the bath in which he was now soaking. Besides, her absence would afford him some few precious moments to himself. She knew he was confused and grieving and probably afraid too. If she had time to think about it, she might even be afraid herself. As it was, she had only one idea occur to her and it would have to be the one she acted on, for she was running out of time to act on anything at all.

She made her way quickly and quietly as possible down the staff stairs to the very bottom where she turned a very dark corner. There she was met by a pair of heavy metal winging doors. As she cast a silent disillusionment spell upon herself, she pushed them open. Hermione pressed her back against the wall behind her the second she entered the basement, and couldn't' help but feel a little like a spy.

She could hear someone moving somewhere in its vast dimly lit expanse. A pipe dripped and someone coughed in the distance, but she sensed or heard no other movement, so, cautiously, she moved forward. Her shoes made a clicking sound on the stone floor as she hurried over to the large hampers used to transport laundry throughout the hotel. Checking that the coast was indeed still clear, she set to work inspecting the contents of each giant container for clean maid uniforms until she at last found one that would have to do, just as she heard the coughing voice near the corner. Reaching far over into its depths to grab the black and white suit, she slipped, fell, and toppled inside it. There she remained, surrounded by a sea of fresh linens, sitting very still as the tapping footsteps grew closer. She was quite stuck. Some spy she was. Thank heavens for disillusionment charms.

"Mable?" as raspy voice called, coughing again. "Ah well," the woman sighed and the cart began to move forward, its driver grunting a bit with effort of pushing a cart about fifty kilos heavier than usual. She heard a ding not long after the cart stopped moving and she guessed they were moving on to an elevator. Great, she thought. Just great.

The elevator moved upwards, its motion somewhat more jagged than Hermione was entirely comfortable with. At last, it dinged again and the cart rolled out into a hallway on to the smooth surface of the old navy carpet and she looked up at its wallpapered walls impatiently. The maid stopped outside a door and grabbed some towels close to Hermione's head, catching a few strands of her hair and pulling it sharply. She barely contained the yelp of pain as a sharp intake of breath, causing the middle aged curly hair woman above her to start and then shake her head dismissively as if she concluded she must be hearing things. Hermione breathed a silent sigh of relief. That was close. Crouching in this thing is getting quite uncomfortable, she reflected as the woman knocked on the bedroom door before them. There was no answer. She knocked again and slipped inside.

Hermione had no idea how long she would take as the woman had only brought in a few fresh towels. Immediately she leapt to her feet, dashing out with her uniform in tow and some fresh linen from the hamper to boot. The doorknob creaked. Her eyes darted around for an escape. The stairs were too far away to run to before the door opened again. Thinking quickly, she took a few steps toward the elevator and pressed the button several times. Just as the elevator dinged to indicate it was on its way, the door the maid had disappeared to re-opened. She held her breath, shifting her wad of clothes neatly folded under her arm that was furthest from the woman and flattening herself against the wallpaper. Fortunately, she did not even glance towards Hermione, but rather rolled her cart further down the hall without a word. As soon as it came to a stop before her, Hermione slipped into the elevator and shut it, hitting the button for the bottom floor.

As soon as it moved, she removed the disillusionment charm and began pulling off her clothes. Her rushed hands trembled as she nervously pulled on the maid uniform. She was all too aware the door could open at any minute. She felt much better when the uniform was completely on. It was navy blue, not black, and white with the silver crest of the hotel emblazoned on the front pocket. In it she placed the note and vial from her pocket. She pulled back her hair in a ponytail neatly, hoping to complete the look. Hastily, she stuffed her clothes in between the towels and sheets she carried and tried her best not to look flustered as the elevator came to a stop at the lobby floor.

Her eyes shot open wide as the chattering guests, a small vacationing family, began cramming inside. She was directly behind the lobby desk, watching the old tinkling fountain, the glass doors where the familiar form of the man who had helped them stood outside in the cold in outfit not unlike her own. The desk clerk's head moved into view and she pressed the button inside the elevator for the bunch struggling to hold their luggage. His head was turned from her for the time being but one glance her way could cause more trouble than she was prepared for. Readily, she fingered her wand hidden in the towels. These people really were taking forever to clamor in with all their bags. Keeping her voice low so as to not be caught by the desk clerk, she moved politely forward and offered to help. Taking what equivocated roughly her bodyweight in luggage, she accompanied them to the second floor where she helped set them up in them in their room, just a few doors down from where she and Draco were staying. She had been gone a while and she had no doubt that Draco would soon merge from his bath to find her missing and possibly panic. She spoke rather loudly as she chatted with them about their journey from Cork, hoping her voice would carry through the thin walls. It did. As she emerged, she spotted Draco's blonde head popping inquisitively out of their door in search of the familiar tones. He looked relieved when he eyed her.

"There you are," he exclaimed before she could stop him.

"Sorry sir," she was quick to interject. "I'm bringing those towels right now." She smiled to the family as they closed their door, thanking her for her help and handing her a small tip. Her eyes widened, and she feared they may water. She thanked them graciously, before leaving to move on to the stumped looking Draco.

"What are you doing?" he whispered after the group had safely retreated into their room.

"Making plans."

"Without me?"

"Well, you didn't seem in shape to help." He frowned resentfully.

"I can help. Besides, how do I know you're not planning to leave me here if I'm of no further use?"

"You want to help? Want to wear one of these?" she joked, tugging the ends of her skirt playfully.

His reaction was entirely different from what she had expected. He surveyed the outfit carefully, looking very peculiar. Swallowing hard, he informed her, "Granger, that is hot." She rolled her eyes. Boys.

"Here," she said handing him the small sum of money. "Now you know I'm not running off as I can't go anywhere without that." He looked at his palm incredulously.

"Then how do you know I won't run off without you."

She scoffed. "Simple, that is muggle money. You don't know the first thing about using it. Now, please stay in the room and don't show your face out here if you can help it. Keep the curtain drawn and the telly volume down."

"The what?"

"The little box with the picture. Didn't you eve pay attention in muggle studies?

"How do you watch that thing?" he asked in disgust.

"The knobs on the side are just like your wireless radio."

"But it's just this little picture with sound. How do I stare at a box that long? It's like watching a photograph that speaks. How annoying."

She smiled,"You get used to it." He shook his head doubtfully.

"Well, find a quiet way to entertain yourself. And don't use magic unless it's an emergency," she whispered. He nodded and slipped back inside.

She readjusted her bundle under her arm and checked her pocket for her belongings. All was as it should be. With a sigh, she headed back towards the stairs from where she made her way back down to the basement once more and there found a cleaning cart which she pushed on to the elevator. She picked a random floor she hoped would be occupied and made the elevator made its trembling way up in a few moments, stopping with a ding.

She slipped off into an empty hall and looked at a deserted hall. Tying her apron on garnished her a chance to hide her wand more safely. She tossed her clothes and towels on top of the cart from which slipped a chart on a clipboard. She picked it up and examined it. It was a chart listing all occupied rooms and chores to be done in them, each one already completed marked off. This was exactly what she needed. It didn't take long for her to find the third floor, where she was, and realize that there were four rooms being used on the hall, two of which by couples. She went directly there. The first door she knocked upon was occupied and they specified roughly that they had no wish to be disturbed. She moved on, wishing every step, "Please be empty. Please by empty. Please be empty."

She knocked once. No response. She knocked again and still there was nothing. A quick charm unlocked the door she had no set of keys for and she carefully entered the room and switched on the light. She smiled at the slightly out of order room, nearly identical to her and Draco's quarters, completely empty. She collected the towels from the bathroom and stripped the bed of linen quickly, extracting carefully from the cloth, two hairs and hiding them in her vial inside her pocket. It didn't take long to find a pen on the small inn table. She grabbed it, checked to see that it worked, then withdrew the scrap of paper tucked away in her pocket that was now bare, the temporary writing having faded away as was planned. On it she scrawled, "Need it tomorrow."

Smiling triumphantly, she put the pen back in its exact place, hid her note in her pocket, and looked around at the small room with a sigh. Might as well clean it up as she'd have wait around to see which hair belonged to whom. First, she put the clean towels in the bath, then put on fresh sheets and neatly made the bed. Taking a rag, she dusted the surfaces she found, emptied the trash, and cleaned the ash tray. With nothing much else to do, she brought the unknown couple an extra roll of toilet paper and sprayed the room with air freshener. Still, they weren't back, but she remained in their room unwilling to risk herself and Draco switching sexes for any length of time. She washed their window and dusted their blind. She found herself looking down at the street and wondering how many streets away she was from Harry and Ron.

They would be sad this Christmas, grieving. Ron would at least. She worried about Harry though. How much better was he feeling since they had gotten him away from the dementors? She had heard no word. She couldn't imagine the gloom that would cover Grimmauld place like a fog should he still be ill, Voldemort gaining power, and she dead. She wondered if anyone had been lost in the battle for the ministry. She tried not to think of who else may be lost already. Tonks? Lupin?

Hermione dearly wished she could tell them the truth, let them know she was alive. Ron must feel so alone without his best friends. At least he and Ginny could keep each other company. She would return soon enough, she promised herself, but for now she had to make the wise decision. She, like others had sacrificed, had to sacrifice. She must, as others had to endure, now endure. For as dark as things were, she could see clearly in the darkness. Her path was laid luminous at her feet, luck on her side thus far. She and Draco had things they must do, because they and they alone could do them.

She wanted to see her friends so badly she thought of apparating there and peaking in only for a moment, but she didn't. That longing to see them again at may be the only thing that kept her going through what she had to do, what she had yet to endure. Harry's messy hair falling about as he laughed hard, Ron's shy look when he'd just been bested: those memories would be her light in the darkness of these times until the time came when they were no longer memories and there was no more darkness.

Her eyes burned and watered. Stupid dust, she mumbled, taking a feather duster to the curtains. She was standing back some time later surveying the place before her. She doubted it had looked this good in some time as no one who had fifty rooms to clean could give a single one so much attention. She was rather proud of her handy work and was happy to see her hands had not been spoiled by using magic for such tasks. The place shone and smelled fresh she reflected, pleased though tired as she sat on the bed just as the door opened and slowly.

"Oh excuse me," she shot up at the sight of the couple she had been waiting on stumbled in through the door as it became suddenly unstuck. She had almost forgotten.

"Oh no problem," the smiling couple politely reassured her. Why were they smiling? Oh yes, they were happy. That's right, she told herself. They were a good looking pair too, she thought.

"The room looks really good." The strawberry blonde headed woman told her, surveying it with pleasant surprise.

"Thank you," Hermione told them, making a mental note of the man's black locks as she slipped behind the kissing couple to the door. "Happy Christmas!" Hermione wished them with as much false cheer as she could muster.

"Wait," the man told her, as red faced and jolly as those old pictures of Father Christmas she had seen. He went to his pocket and Hermione felt her heart leap painfully in to her throat with hope. "Here you are." He handed her several notes, a generous tip.

"Oh no, I couldn't accept this." She said, blushing as she handed it back.

"No please," said the charming blonde girl. "It's the least we can do. You didn't have to clean the room too. Besides, it's a shame for anyone to have to work on Christmas."

"Thank you, thank you." She said turning away with a sniffle as she stuffed the money in with her vial and note. Damn dust.

She shut the door with a snap and for no particular reason finished the next two rooms fairly quickly before returning the uniform and cart to the basement. The woman was right. It was a shame for anyone to have to work on Christmas. The least she could do in return for stealing the cart was mark off a few chores. In the basement she rolled it squeaking wheels against the stone floor and pressed it against a wall. She felt a surge on unexpected optimism when she spotted a cardboard box also pushed against the wall under the dripping pipe. In the box below, muffling some of the drops, were an abundance of abandoned or lost garments. The box was haphazardly filled to the point of over flowing and with a quick glance around Hermione leapt upon it. She rummaged through as quickly as possible through items of clothing that wouldn't be missed. Much of it had been munched on by moths or mildewed because of the water damage. Even more of it was wrongly sized, but she did manage to collect a few things she hoped would fit herself and Draco before disappearing up the back stairs just as the ones opposite opened.

At long last, and feeling much more tired than she had expected, Hermione trudged up the stairs to her room and knocked once. Draco opened it cautiously and let her sighing figure in. She couldn't believe her eyes. He was smiling as she went back to the bed. Apparently the bath had done him good, even more than she had thought. He was watching the telly too, a Christmas miracle she mentally joked. He shushed her as she shuffled about.

"It's better than theatre." He whispered. "This man's ruined his whole life, gave up all his dreams and ambitions, for this woman," he explained.

"Draco, where did you get that?" she asked worriedly, eyeing the room service table with two bowls of soup on it. "The old man left it at the door." He said absently, taking a spoonful of his and showing her the messily jotted note that had apparently been left with the meal.

"No one should go hungry on Christmas." She smiled faintly, trying hard not to think of those that were. Yes, no one should, but they were learning that even less of the world was as it should be than they had originally thought. She should be with her friends, Draco with his family, but that was not to be. She sighed again. This life could quickly wear a person down, make them older. She felt older already.

"That was nice." She commented, unable to articulate what it really was and not feeling up to trying. She dropped the garments she had acquired, removed her borrowed boots, and crawled into bed to, taking the bowl he offered. He looked at her as settled in, watching the program. She recognized it instantly as It's a Wonderful Life, one of her favorites. She didn't tell him. She did not want to ruin it for him. He wasn't acting normal, per se, but it was better than panicking. It was better than breaking.

The soup was very warm, some sort of bean and bacon concoction. The cook here was surprisingly good. She still couldn't believe their luck. Here she was, worrying, taking things into her own hands, preparing for the worst. And there was Draco, curled up in silk pajamas watching a telly, and eating soup. She should have been happy he was adaptable as she was-it meant they might survive the journey ahead- but she was angry. To her, he had this faith things would work out for him and miraculously, they did. It wasn't fair. But she supposed to someone who had always been taken care of, such a thing would come as a natural assumption and she should in fact be grateful, because if his faith ever failed him he might crack. And there was no telling what he might do then.

"You look tired." He told her as George Bailey informed his guardian angel that his car had been there earlier.

"I am, but I have little bit of money for us to get out of the city tomorrow and a way for us to do so unrecognized if things go right." He looked vaguely surprised.

"Not bad Granger." He credited cockily.

"Thanks."

"I hope things go right then."

"Me too."

"So are you going to tell me the real plan yet? Why are we not running to the Order? "

"I'm not sure you're ready to know everything Draco." She told him honestly.

He looked worried, afraid even. "Fair point. How about you tell me the plan for tomorrow then; we'll go piece by piece." She didn't answer right away. All things considered she wasn't sure how much she could trust Draco. He started to grumble with resentment, "Maybe I could help you. You didn't have to get the money all yourself. How did you get it anyway?"

"I cleaned rooms."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. I did servant work and those are tips." He frowned, deep in thought. Then he surprised her so much she nearly spilled hot soup all down her front.

"Next time I should do it."

"What?!"

"It's not fair for me to use money I didn't help earn. So, we can take turns."

"You did hear me right? I said I cleaned up after other people, like a house elf, like a slave."

"Yeah I heard you," he snapped, clearly not any more pleased at the idea than she had expected him to be. "Still, it's not fair. It's dishonorable I mean, for me to let a woman work to take care of me."

She growled at his scathing, sexist remark. How typically Malfoy, she thought with reproach. She bit her tongue though. If he was going to work for a living, try to be fair, that was improvement at least. Fighting was the last thing either needed to do right then. They were all each other had in the world. She nodded in agreement with his plan.

They watched more of the movie in silence.

"So what's the plan then?" he asked.

"If I tell you, you may run off without me." She told him, not entirely joking.

"I guess it's fair you don't trust me for a while."

She didn't answer. It was more than fair. Fair would be if she had left him there to die, turned on him as he had done her, and left him to the wolves. Then again, what was fair? Very little of the world she had seen.

Draco laughed. "The villain in this is Mr. Potter." She smiled and shook her head at his humor, though it was ironic.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't have that planned. Somewhere we've never been before so we can't be easily traced, and we'll be taking muggle transportation."

"And we'll be disguised?"

She nodded.

"Good plan." He conceded.

"I hope so."

"See how sad it is to not be anyone?"

"What?"

"I guess things weren't as bad as he thought they were, only he couldn't see it through his troubles. He only saw what was wrong not what was right with his life." He explained, speaking about the main character.

"No one does. It is a wonderful gift to see things from an objective point of view."

"People are so stupid sometimes, so blind. They don't see anything as it is, until they lose it. We'll get it back right?" He sounded like a frightened child.

"Get what back?" she asked.

"We are going to get our lives back one day, right?" she smiled.

"I think so. That's what we're going to try to do… for all of us." Now things were looking up. Now he had something to fight for.

"Well, this one wasn't so bad Granger." He said about the movie as the credits rolled and she explained what they were.

"No man is a failure who has friends." She thought aloud as she got up to switch off the telly.

"Makes you wonder. What a difference your life makes, what things would be like if you had never been born? Did you help more than you thought, or hurt more?"

"Yeah," she conceded quietly. "Yeah it does. It's a classic." She told him, switching off the light as well. "We need to leave early. We don't want to stay here too long and we have a stop to make before we go to the train station."

"Okay. Night." He muttered from the other side of the small bed. It was so small in fact they were pressed against each other, back to back, and she could feel the rumble through his chest as he spoke.

"Happy Christmas," he said, his voice thick with grief.

"Happy Christmas," she repeated as tears fell down her face and onto her pillow.

A/N: So? Please let me know what you thought in a review! Things are about to get very interesting…