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J.K Rowling owns.

Love and War
Chapter 8

Wilderness

For George, getting out of the manor was quite easy. Almost too easy, even while carrying an unconscious Hermione in his arms. The tunnel was dark, curvy and long with a lot of stones to trip over, but it led them into the heart of the forest surrounding the grounds. So, when George exited from a secluded cave, the sunlight bathing his face in a well-deserved glow while the birds sang songs of victory, he felt as if the world was his for the taking. The freedom he gripped tightly in his hands now was so much sweeter since there were no snatchers stationed outside the crevice's opening.

A sigh of relief escaped his cracking dry lips before George began his journey through the woods; pushing himself to get as much ground between them and the manor as possible before nightfall. Hours passed, and still, George hiked, lucky to avoid running into a single sentient soul, but with the lack of food in his system and weeks of living in a hole, he tired quickly.

The beads of sweat dripped off his brow, his shirt soaking with evidence of his fatigue, and still he hiked. His feet never faltered against the hard dirt, even with the many roots buckling upwards. His arms never hung lower, even with Hermione's weight straining his drained muscles. But most importantly, his eyelids never closed. He never, not once, lost his focus, because still, he hiked. And when the moon was finally visible above the tree tops, George had managed to get almost halfway through the dense wilderness.

Coming to a rest at a small brook, George nearly collapsed on the ground. His breaths were deep and rapid, his arms were aching and sore, and his eyes darted everything, ensuring their safety. It was then he allowed himself to take it all in. This place was far too beautiful to be surrounding the darkest dwelling from which he just escaped.

The water hummed gently as it flowed down over the rocks, while the silver light of the night shimmered off the surface and blanketed all that was not covered by the tree's shadowy canopy. The cool breeze brushed against his damp skin, almost caressing him with its gentle blow, and George let out a deep long breath. It was an isolation but entirely different from before. Being in this nature, experiencing this freedom, relishing the calm quiet; this was bliss.

He let his eyes close for a moment, allowing the forest to wash over him in waves of peace until he felt Hermione shiver in his arms. George snapped his attention back to her, gazing down at her still unconscious form as she snuggled closer into his chest. A smile graced his lips for the first time since he felt the sun. As George brushed a strand of her hair off her face, his thumb lingered on her cheek. Then he remembered why he was doing this. He did it; he had gotten them out. They were going home.

With his second wind coming on strong, George sprang into action, setting up the tent and leaving Hermione rest on the couch, after treating some of her more serious injuries. Circling the tent in three different loops, George muttered the incantations; creating three rings of wards to ensure an impenetrable shield. He used the best deflection wards, some he learned at Hogwarts and some that he and Fred crafted. Once he had finished, he leant back on his heels, admiring his work before heading back to the tent.

Hermione had stirred again when he entered. Her eyes fluttered softly, but not opening fully, while her body twitched slightly on the couch and George immediately rushed over. He knelt beside the sofa, resting his forearm above her head and running his hand through her locks. He whispered to her, urging her to open her eyes, assuring her she wanted to see the sight.

She let out a soft hum of contentment, moving her head closer into the heat of George's hand, her lips shyly curving upwards. His lips mimicked hers before kissing her forehead and running his thumb across her cheek once more. She was coming back to him, awake and alert, but all he could do was wait. Her eyes fluttered again, but this time they opened slowly. Her cinnamon orbs locking with his blue ones as the confusion flooded her features.

"Am I dreaming?" She whispered, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek. She ran her fingers across his beard and down his neck, coming to rest her palm on his chest. George's heart sped up under the heat, and he grinned.

"Thank Merlin you're awake," He let out a shaky breath, his hand still stroking through her hair. He took a moment to study her, noting the evident exhaustion in her eyes along with the rickety movements of her frail fingers. He was concerned, knowing that sleeping for so many days was just unnatural, but given her history, he was just glad to see her conscious.

"George," Hermione's voice was raspy, unused, much like it had been before her breakdown. It was a haunted voice, a ghost of the happy tone she once used at the Burrow. It was a genuine sign that she was broken, a sign that fuelled George's determination.

"Hmm?"

"Am I on a couch?"

"Yes," he said in between his gentle chuckle, watching as her brows furrowed with slight confusion.

"Wh-what?" She stuttered, attempting to sit up and glance around the tent. She flopped back down into the cushions, her quick movements making her dizzy. Her eyes rolled backwards in a fleeting second and George's instantly face fell into a frown of worry. He moved his hand underneath her head, pulling her up a bit to rest against the arm of the couch. When her eyes deglazed and focused back on George's face, she spoke again. "How, the Death Eat—"

"You don't mention those bastards." George's stern voice interrupted her, "They won't ever harm you again." Her eyes widened slightly in shock and George let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, I probably should explain, but first you're going to eat something."

He stood from his crouch and made his way to the little kitchenette. He had to hand it to Malfoy; the tent was pretty perfect. It was large enough for one couple, containing one bedroom, a bathroom, a living room, and a small kitchenette which was fully stocked. The rations looked as if they could last for several weeks, but George did not plan to stay in the forest for that long.

He made tea, soup, and small sandwiches, hoping the food would be light enough for Hermione to handle after such a long time of barely eating anything, and floated the plates to the coffee table. Helping Hermione into a sitting position, George watched as her eyes wandered around the tent, scanning her surroundings. They both forced some tuna sandwiches down their throats, hoping to ease the hungry which burned their insides, but it was in silence.

"George?" Hermione's voice was a little less hoarse after finishing her soup. She sipped on her tea, watching him intently, and waited for an explanation.

"Feeling a little better?" He asked, taking a sip from his own cup. She nodded weakly but remained in a soundless patience. George sighed, setting his cup down before turning back to face Hermione, his face glowing with delight. "We got out."

"I can see that, but how?" Her smile was breathtaking, and George felt lighter with each second that he gazed into her eyes. The amber warmed his blue pools as watched her face blanket with several emotions. Confusion, joy, pain, gratitude, and something which could only be defined as undefined.

"Draco."

"Draco?" She half choked as she gasped in shock.

"Yes, shocking isn't it?" She was still flabbergasted as she sputtered for a moment.

"As in Draco Malfoy?" Her face puckered as her mouth gaped in shock. She was almost fish like with her facial expressions.

"He's a spy for the Order, from what I've gathered." He said, taking another sip of his tea to stifle his chuckle.

"George, can you just give me more of a thorough retelling please?" He heaved another sigh, running a hand nervously through his hair.

"It was dead quiet today, no screams, no curses. Nothing." His eyes gazed at the tent wall, fixating on its canvas as if he was going to a faraway place. In truth he had locked this memory in the depths of his mind, hoping to forget, but he knew that was just hopeful thinking. He could never forget. They could never forget.

Hermione placed a hand on top of his, the comforting warmth of her soft skin sent shivers up his spine, and he lowered his focus to the circles which she drew upon his flesh. He smiled slightly as he looked up, his eyes meeting hers. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he continued. "And Draco showed up, slipped us our wands, broke us out, and led us to this secret passage. Very Hogwarts' if you ask me. The tunnel ended right the centre of forest off the grounds. You were out cold for most of it."

"Draco?" She asked again, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of a Malfoy helping out the Order, let alone a muggleborn, but George did not acknowledge the question with his doubts. He agreed with the suspicions, thinking it would be like a game of cat and mouse now, but he did not care. Anything that got them out was a blessing, even if it was the sneaky ferret.

"I reckon we're about a day away from the edge of the forest where it is secure to apparate to the safe house. Until then," he gestured to their surroundings, "We are camping." His proud tone caused a huge grin to erupt on Hermione's face. The happiness did not fully reach her eyes, but it was still big enough that it satisfied George.

"We're out? We are actually out?" She asked excitement finally seeping into her voice, as tears rolled down her cheeks. He immediately reached over and brushed them away, beaming with her. Her smile never faded, only grew larger.

"Well, sort of. We haven't left the grounds yet. But it's not as 'Malfoy-ish' here. It's quite nice." His hands cupped her face, his thumbs running across her cheeks as he continued to wipe away her tears, and she leant into his touch.

"So, I really am on a couch then?" At this, he laughed. For the first time in a while, he laughed and when he heard Hermione's gentle chuckle his heart stopped. But in a right way. It was as if drawing out that musical snicker from her was what he was born to do. It was as if making her happy was his calling. He managed to get out a 'yes' in between his laughter and she pulled him into a tight embrace. "Thank you," her whisper vibrated against his chest and his arms wrapped around her frame, pulling her closer.

"Hermione," The soft timber of his voice dropped slightly, highlighting his seriousness and she hummed in response. "I never would have left you behind. Not then and not now, that's a promise." He felt her nod before a very vocal yawn emitted. "You should rest."

Attempting to stand on her bandaged ankle, Hermione let out a barely audible hiss and immediately collapsed into George's side. He easily lifted her and carried her to the bedroom, placing her on the bed and pulling the covers over her. His lips pressed gently against her forehead and, mumbling a goodnight; he grabbed a blanket and pillow before heading out to the couch.

"George," she murmured as he reached the flap of the bedroom. He turned around to see her sitting up, watching him intently. "Please, stay." He hesitated before turning around and removing his dirty shirt and pants and climbing into the bed next to her. She curled onto his side, nuzzling her face against his chest as he ran his fingers up and down the length of her forearm. It was as if she belonged there, her frame forming into his perfectly as her breaths deepened and she drifted off. He placed another tender kiss to her forehead, pulling her closer to him, before joining her in slumber.

'I could sure get used to this.' Was his last waking thought.

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