"It is only blood that can wash away such an outrage; die or kill." - Pierre Corneille

Chapter Five: Disaster and Revenge

It was almost dusk, and they were moving once again, Hermione in his arms. He could tell she was cold but he could not pause to let her don a shirt or jacket. She instead hugged the bag to her chest.

"This is so bizarre," she whispered, closing her eyes and trying not to think.

She was half naked, being carried off by Draco Malfoy.

Draco said nothing as he dissapparated them again.

By nightfall, he slowed down. They'd gotten nearly to the northern tip of Scotland, and it was becoming harder for them to avoid steep mountains, roads, and towns, which they'd avoided by something like luck before. He was tired of carrying her - she was becoming heavier and heavier, and his arms, back, shoulders, and legs were burning. Finally, he set her down in a small alcove on the side of a rocky hill and collapsed on the rocks next to her, sliding down a bit but not seeming to notice.

Hermione immediately felt her way into the bag and pulled out a shirt. She struggled into it quickly, nearly ripping the seams in her haste.

"Draco?" she asked, turning her head in different directions.

"I'm here, barely," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"You have a wand?"

He nodded, knowing that she couldn't see the gesture, and not caring at the moment.

"Hello?"

Did she have a death wish or something? "Yes. Leave me alone."

He had known that she was likely to be annoying, but he had figured he could combat that by being cold and unhelpful. There was now no denying her dependency on him - he was only used to caring for himself, having never needed to really care about or for anyone else. Hermione had become something like a child - incapable of doing a lot of things by herself and unable to let go of the person who provided the things that she couldn't.

He needed to find a way to make her a little more independent in her unfortunate situation. But for now, he needed to rest.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes, for now." He paused. "We need to leave the country."

Hermione was immediately skeptical. "What would that do? Where could we go? - "

"Norway is the closest thing right now, right across the water. From there, I'll figure something out."

"How are we getting - "

"Oh, I don't know, Granger. Why don't you think of something?" he said shortly, grabbing the bag next to her and pulling it under his head. He was asleep within minutes.

As she turned the corner, cold fear washed over her and she skidded to a halt, her lungs bursting.

Draco Malfoy was right there, standing a few yards away... looking simply murderous. He was out for her blood, her dirty, filthy mud-blood... and from the look in his eyes, she knew that there was nothing she could do to stop him.

As she swayed on the spot, losing hope, her throat burning, her legs quivering, and all her strength gone, she felt a spell hit her on the back of the head, and the world went dark. "I'm dead!" she whispered in surprise, before covering her mouth.

The one thing that she needed, the one sense that could help her out of this situation had disappeared. Her now black eyes formed tears as she wrapped her arms around herself; the boy she knew from school with platinum hair and a cold heart was standing directly in front of her, heat radiating off his body.

"Look out!" he yelled forcefully, attempting to move her aside to face the Death Eaters behind her. She whipped around and smacked into the wall.

Hermione sat up with a start, gasping; something hard had fallen on her. She felt around desperately, and sighed in relief and a twinge of irritation as she realized that Draco had dropped the duffel on her to wake her up.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, knowing that between carrying Hermione, running from Death Eaters, and arguing with her, he had managed to put himself under a lot of physical stress. If he was going to succeed in keeping her from the Death Eaters, it was very important that he was in impeccable physical condition. Unfortunately, Hermione made this quite a bit harder, since she was still too weak to keep up with him and would likely stumble and run into trees if he wasn't watching where she was walking.

"Get up, you wimp," she said coarsely, shoving the duffel back at him. "I hurt all over too."

He shook his head. What he was experiencing was muscle soreness - in what seemed like every muscle in his body. "Do you think I care if you hurt? You aren't the one who has to carry a giant blind baby around."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Be seeing you!" She moved away from him. Draco was having none of that; Hermione had not gotten two steps away before his hand enclosed around her leg and she fell to the ground kicking. She managed to kick him in the neck, which was unbelievably painful, and he choked for a few seconds. He responded by tying her foot to a tree with the strap of the bag.

"Fucking-goddamned-urgh mudblood! As if I don't hurt enough!" he rasped.

"You shouldn't have done that to me!"

"I can do whatever I want to you. You're as blind as a rock, and you're in no position to be ordering me around."

"What a big man you are, picking on me when I'm blind!"

He scoffed. She was already starting to hide behind the defense of her lack of eyesight when it was convenient for her. "Don't even pretend to be defenseless, Granger. I know you've got the gears turning in your head. Remember that your thoughts are not safe around me."

This was just a threat of course; he couldn't actually go into her head without her realizing it, and wouldn't use legilimency or spiritual telepathy against her, even if he needed to. Fear of this, however, was a factor he needed to control her. If they separated, they had a better chance of getting caught than if they stayed together. He needed her to know that her escape opportunities would be very limited, and he would know when she was plotting.

Hermione piped down, stunned at the threat.

He looked around the area where they were, spotting a stick next to the tree she was tied to and snatching it up. A walking stick could help her - blind people usually carried sticks whether they had charms to help them avoid objects or not. The two of them did not have any charms at their disposal, nor did he know any spells that would help her. He couldn't perform a countercurse for the blindness curse the Death Eaters Krokesh and Rubinoff had used on her - a lot of the spells that he'd been taught as a Death Eater did not have countercurses, and he was not taught very many of the countercurses for the ones that did have them.

In the meantime, while his muscles healed, he needed something to do. Draco reached into the open bag and pulled out the jar of panacea sap, followed by the wand from his back pocket. He retrieved a pocket knife from his other pocket.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked quietly, getting comfortable - or as comfortable as she could with her foot bound the way it was.

"Shut it," he muttered, taking out a bottle of water and opening the lid. He coaxed some panacea sap into it. "It's a good thing I got food before I came back to the room. I was going to wait until later and get some sleep first."

"Food" was the only word Hermione heard out of that. "Where?" she said, feeling around for the bag.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You don't see me rushing after it, and I haven't eaten in days either - "

"Yeah, well you're used to it. I'm not."

Draco turned to look at her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione's face brightened as her hands enclosed around something that felt like bread. She tore into it. "Don't they starve you?"

"Who?" She wasn't making any sense now that she had food in her hands.

She gulped down what was in her mouth. "The Death Eaters. They starve you."

Draco didn't answer. Her statement had some truth; Death Eaters were trained to withstand the worst of conditions. Some of them were better at it than others - he happened to be better at it. Most of it was mind over matter - personal strength combined with physical strength. The new leadership of the Death Eaters had really whipped them into shape. As soon as that woman had taken over, the other side was doomed. While the leadership of the Dark Lord had made the Death Eaters accustomed to luxury, Master had immediately remedied that. She had laid out a new purpose immediately, setting them on rigorous training. The ones who couldn't sit with this rejoined their families and left the Death Eaters, though the ones who didn't get out immediately didn't get off so easy.

He shook up his new drink and took a sip - the sap made the water surprisingly sweet. He hoped it would speed up his healing process - he didn't know how panacea sap worked, but it surely wouldn't work as well or as quickly as phoenix tears, which were known to correct internal injuries almost instantly by ingestion.

After taking another sip, he took up the stick, tested out its durability, and began carving away the bark on it.

Ron,

I found a lead. Someone destroyed a room at an inn in Shandwick - a room where a man with blond hair and a woman with curly brown hair were staying. The innkeeper's description of the woman sounded like Hermione, but I have no idea who the other guy was. He could possibly be the Death Eater called Angelface.

We did not catch the Death Eaters that stormed the place, but the Auror Office has ordered some specialists over here, who will be questioning the innkeeper and having him confirm the identities of the room's occupants. Also, the article they told us about will be in tomorrow's Prophet, along with this.

-H

Hermione took the hair tie from around her wrist and tied it around her new french braid. The braid was probably a mess, but she couldn't see it enough to fix it to perfection. She felt along her head, tucking in loose pieces of hair and tightening the end.

"I know how to get to Norway."

Draco didn't look up from his carving; he was making small, smooth cuts into the stick, carving off little oval-shaped chips.

"… Well, if you don't want to hear it - "

"Humor me," he muttered, still carving.

She had to push down the urge to strangle him before she could respond. Almost every word out of his mouth deepened her helpless irritation. She sighed angrily. "We should take a boat. A muggle one."

Draco rolled his eyes. "There's no way I'm getting in a boat manned by a muggle, Granger."

"Not like a rickety canoe, you dolt. I mean a real boat."

"I'm not getting in a boat sailed by a muggle. They don't know how to sail."

Hermione's cheeks reddened in anger. What kind of assumption was that? "Of course they do! They do it all the time, they've been doing it for centuries!"

"A boat is too slow."

"But there's no way the Death Eaters are going to get us if we are in the middle of the North Sea."

He shrugged, not willing to recognize that this made sense. "How are we getting a boat?"

"We hire a captain, of course."

Draco scoffed, and then blew on his work to get rid of the shavings. She made this sound easier than it was. "And what captain would take us to Norway?"

"Any captain that wants some money."

"I don't have piles of cash at my disposal Granger. I have the money I drew out the last time I visited Gringotts, which was a month ago. That's it. Stop spending it for me - you're in no position to do that."

"How much do you have?"

"I don't know. Maybe fifty galleons."

That was enough to keep them alive for at least a month, if they kept living in the forests in Scotland. It was not, however, enough to get them on a boat to Norway and then lasting supplies while they were there.

"It's still a possibility," she said quietly after a minute.

"I'd rather swim," he muttered, tired of the sound of her voice. It was taking on that shrill quality it had when he'd known her back in school.

"If we had gone west, we could have gone to Ireland."

"There are too many cities to the west, too many places to be seen in."

"And there aren't to the north?"

Draco looked up at the sky and breathed in and out, forcing himself to calm down before he sent a nasty hex in her direction. Was complaining the only thing she knew how to do? "There are enough foresty areas to get lost in to the north. I don't know about the west. Don't you even say south - there are bunches of forests, but we'd be boxed in between Edinburgh and all the major cities down there like Liverpool, Newcastle, Manchester, London... that says enough."

"It would be easier to get lost in a big city."

"Not the ones in England. They've got every city webbed out with traitors and watchmen." This was an exaggeration - not even the Ministry had the power to do that. But the difference between the Death Eaters and the Ministry was that the Death Eaters were willing to break every law of fairness and morality to catch who they wanted.

Hermione sat back against her tree, playing with the end of her braid, feeling around for little knots and pulling off her split ends. "Are you still a Death Eater?"

"Merlin, woman. Shut it. I'm not one of your mates."

"Any person would be mad to be mates with you."

"I'm warning you, Granger," he said without conviction. Keeping her in line was tiring. He went back to concentrating on the stick, noting that it was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. Something about carving short slivers of wood off of a branch with a knife was calming - perhaps it was the knife part. It was good for controlling a temper.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't have to answer your question!"

"I would like an answer."

"I would like you to go fuck yourself!"

Hermione promptly shut up. Her unintentional attempt to annoy him had definitely succeeded.

Draco's stress and muscle soreness wore off by later in the day, around the same time he had finished carving up the stick. Besides a slight twist at the top of it, it was fairly straight. He'd carved it all the way to the bottom, and it had gone from a dusty brown to a creamy off-white. It was a work of art that he was quite proud of, actually - it was a shame that he'd have to give it to her.

"Here," he put forth, shoving the end of it into her hands and untying her foot from the tree. Hermione ran her fingers over the new item, feeling the tiny little hills and valleys he'd made in it, making it smooth yet bumpy.

"It's beautiful," she said, despite not being able see it. She twirled it like a top.

"I know," he said, reattaching the strap to his bag and fishing out some bread for himself. "When all this is over, I want it back." Who knew he'd discover something that he liked to do while he was a fugitive with Hermione Granger?

"I just thought of something."

Draco looked at the sky, and then over at Hermione, wondering what she was about to spew forth this time. He'd had more than enough of her ideas. "What is it now?"

"What about border security? They aren't just going to let us waltz into their country."

"We will get in. You speak of countries as if they are clubs guarded by dozens of bouncers."

Isn't that exactly what they are? Hermione turned her head in his direction. "I want to enter a country legally."

"We don't have time for that." Draco moved a stick that was in her path with his foot. "I need a map" he murmured to himself.

Hermione shook her head, letting the stick in her hands divide the foliage in front of her. "Why did you kidnap me?"

He knew it was only a matter of time before this question came up again and he would be in a position to answer it. She had asked him many times, but he had given her no details. "The Death Eaters have some big plan that involves you. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but I do know that by capturing you, getting information out of you, and then imperiousing you to destroy the Order of the Phoenix and the Department of International Magical Cooperation from the inside, they can kill so many goblins with one spell."

Hermione hated that expression. It was typical of a pureblood to use phrases like that. "What makes them think that they are getting information out of me?"

"Because everyone talks. Everyone. They will make you talk, whether it be through a liter of Veritaserum or legilimency, or the Cruciatus curse until you are paralyzed... you will talk. And they figure since you are so close to Potter, you would be in on all the big secrets and plans he would have. Also..." Draco moved a branch out of his way. "They want to discredit Potter and all muggleborns. Remember, Granger, nothing has changed yet. It will take a lot of time before the Death Eaters no longer have control of the Ministry and the wizarding world."

Hermione knew this - the Daily Prophet and the Death Eater controlled Ministry had deeply corrupted public opinion. She was the one working on that bit of the Ministry's shoddy "recovery" plan - she was to tactically address diversity in the Ministry and oversee the changing in the ideas of the magical community. Though she had no real authority over such things, she paid close attention to opinion articles, offhand conversations about magical happenings, and even the casual treatment of muggleborn wizards and witches. In the meantime, she was working at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, suggesting laws, making organizational changes, and writing reports based on observations from all over the world.

"What a disaster," she mumbled, stumbling.

They were very famished, very tired, and very dirty by the time they reached the next wizard village that looked quiet and innocent enough to supply in.

"I still think we'd be better off in a city," Hermione grumbled, letting him lead her a little forcefully down a sidewalk.

"There are only muggle towns past here, Granger," he said, looking around them with narrowed eyes. "The Death Eaters have their hands thoroughly entwined in those. They are least likely to have traitors in small villages like these."

"They found us last time," she retorted, turning her head in his direction and pushing the sunglasses up on her nose. It was overcast yet bright, so her sunglasses didn't seem out of place.

Draco shook his head as they went into a little shop, ignoring her quip. Since it was a wizard owned store, he didn't dare try to nick anything, but when they next hit a muggle city, he would be taking full advantage of the muggle lack of technology.

Once they'd left with some food, Hermione snacking on an apple, they continued walking. "You didn't answer my question."

The "we" in her statement, "we'd be better off" was bugging him. "So?"

Hermione ignored his cheekiness. "Why did you kidnap me?"

Draco looked around them again, noting the people on the street and looking for the familiar sensations of having his mind probed. "Revenge," he said, looking forward.