Chapter 11

Hermione and Draco had been asleep against their prospective trees for the better part of a few hours. Shadows had grown long around them as the sun sank low in the western sky. A blanket of hazy, late evening sunlight had turned the woods around them amber colored. Draco's subconscious was turbulent and troubled, with his parents' face swimming in and out of view. He dreamed of his father's unjust death, and the guilt Draco had carried with him because of it. His father had not known that his mother was feeding information to The Order of the Phoenix, but Draco had. His mother had convinced him that they must keep it a secret until Lucius saw the true danger they were in with The Dark Lord and his reign. When Lucius would be prepared to flee with them, than She would tell him. 'He must come around to the idea on his own. We will never be able to sway him,' His dream mother told him again. You fool! Draco wanted to scream at her ghostly figure. We are leading our family to slaughter! But she couldn't hear him, she was already fading from view. The Malfoys had been slowly losing favor with Voldemort since Draco had failed in his task at killing Dumbledore, or even, perhaps, before that. Dumbledore, and Snape, and even his mother, for that matter, had believed The Dark Lord had put him up to the task, knowing he would fail. Leaving a vein open with which to strike the Malfoy family down and strip them of everything. Draco had failed. The memory of Dumbledore, at Draco's mercy, pleading with Snape floated through Draco's subconscious, reopening old wounds of shame and guilt that had left heavy cracks in his soul.

Hermione's dreams were as fitful and plagued as Draco's. She dreamed of Fred's body splayed out lifeless back at Hogwarts. She dreamed of Narcissa falling away from her back at Grimmauld Place. She dreamed of Ron pushing her forward and telling her to go back at Herbert Beery's garden greenhouse. She dreamed of magicking her parents to forget her. She was transported back to a watery scene when she had been hunting horcruxes with Harry and Ron. She watched again as Ron left them, abandoning them when things got too tense for him to handle. These scenes were watery, and distorted, but no less painful than when she experienced them the first time.

Hermione's eyes started to open, as she started to wake up. It took her a few long seconds before she remembered where she was, her eyes seeking out Draco to make sure he hadn't left her there while she slept. He was leaning up against his tree, eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. His face had a troubled expression, as if he, too, was having bad dreams. " Welcome to the club, Hermione thought grimly.

Hermione felt a hunger pain deep in her stomach, and her mind went to the meager breakfast she had eaten, so much earlier in the day. We have no food prospects. I don't even have the invisibility cloak, so stealing from a muggle shop is out, she reflected. The thought of hunting in her owl form crossed her mind, but she nixed it just as quickly. If Malfoy found out...

She thought about apparating somewhere she was familiar with, to get food but nixed that idea, too. Ministry members and Death Eaters were probably swarming the country looking for her, or at least on high alert to be watchful of anything suspicious.

Hermione turned to look at Draco, whose eyes were beginning to flicker open. His breathing shallowed as he stretched his arms out. He looked at Hermione through slit eyes, and then swept his gaze across the landscape.

"Do you stare at everyone while they're sleeping, or just me?" he asked with a raspy voice, rubbing the space between his eyes, as if he had a headache.

"Oh, sodd off," Hermione said, frowning. He's such a git.

"Gladly, if I had somewhere to sodd-off too," He responded, dusting dirt off his legs.

"We need to figure out something about food. We can't function if we aren't nourished, and I don't know if I'll be able to fight as keenly as I did earlier this famished. We also need to figure out somewhere else to go. I feel too out in the open here," Hermione said, ticking off her fingers as she spoke.

"Fight keenly? Is that what you call your performance from earlier?" Draco challenged, opening his eyes wide.

"I-what?" Hermione stammered.

"You were treating the Death Eaters like you were practicing at dueling. They weren't extending you the same courtesy. You need to toughen up," Draco said, the malice gone from his voice. He spoke matter-of-factly, as if coaching her instead of belittling her.

"I haven't critiqued the way you fought. I'm sorry I don't use unforgivable curses, like your lot tends to do," Hermione shot back, feeling her temper getting shorter.

"And that's why I was the last one in that house with my wits about me. I didn't get stunned. I wasn't petrified. I didn't get captured." Draco retorted, his own voice starting to rise.

"There's a few things that divide your lot from mine, and freely using unforgivable curse is one of them," Hermione countered, feeling her face redden.

"STOP CALLING THEM MY LOT, GRANGER," Draco roared, causing Hermione to blanch at the sudden aggression. "My lot? My Lot? MY BLOODY LOT?! They killed my parents, Granger. They destroyed my ancestral home. And if given the chance, they would kill me, too you bloody swot. My lot? I have been feeding information to the Order for months you idiot. Would I be doing that if those foul vermin were my lot?" Draco had yelled himself hoarse, his face and neck turning a vehement shade of red in the process. His hands were clutched into fists and his hair had flown around his head as if a blown about by a strong wind.

Hermione recoiled. How could she respond to that explosion? He was right, of course, but Hermione was too head strong to apologize after the way he just unleashed on her.

"Fine, fine, they aren't your lot, you still helped that lot significantly in their rise to power, you petulant snob. Some of the things happening are your fault. You associated with that lot for a long, long time, making your bed as a Death eater and laying in it. So, you'll have to excuse me if old habits die hard, Malfoy." Hermione spit out at him.

"You don't know shit, Granger, even if you think you do. You haven't got the whole bloody world figured out. Brightest witch of our generation my ass!" Draco hissed back at her; voice completely made of venom. Hermione winced to hear that, having been fretting and insecure about that very same thing lately.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Hermione said coldly. What a complete waste of my energy, bickering with this idiot.

Draco said nothing in return, instead, he rose to his feet and started to walk in the opposite direction of Hermione.

Fine! Leave! I couldn't be arsed either way, Hermione thought furiously, looking at Draco's retreating figure. As soon as he's out of sight, I'll transform and fly away.

Hermione sat back and took a few calming breaths, trying to steady her shaking hands. When she opened her eyes again, Malfoy was walking back in her direction, carrying a small sack in his hands. He stopped about 5 feet away from the sack, and opened it, not looking up to meet Hermione's gaze.

"Here," he said, tossing something towards Hermione. She caught it reflexively and was surprised to see a homemade muffin in her hands.

"What is this? How did you get this?" Hermione asked, eyeing the muffin suspiciously.

"Do you ever stop with the bloody questions?" Draco asked, sounding annoyed. "Eat it, or don't, I don't care." He said, as he took a seat on the ground to eat a muffin of his own.

"No," She answered honestly. "How did you get this?"

"If you must know, my...my mother and I were trying to prepare for a getaway of sorts. So, we have a few care packages hidden around England. This place was of them. It's just a few stale muffins my mother made, and some jewelry to sell for money if we got desperate. This was the first place I thought of when I needed somewhere to apparate. It's pretty off the radar, as far as the Ministry and The Death Eaters are concerned. No wizards or witches live even remotely close to this area, so there wouldn't be any reason to be looked for here." Draco said, voice rising a couple of pitches. He took a few bites of the muffin and closed his eyes thoughtfully as he chewed.

How odd that Narcissa is gone, and Draco is eating something she cooked before her death. I wonder how that's making him feel. Hermione thought, taking a bite of the muffin in her hand. It was stale, and it was mealy, too. The late Narcissa must not have been such a baker. She couldn't help but think, then immediately felt guilty for having had the thought. Wait a minute, why did Narcissa bake these? Don't the Malfoys have house elves?

"So..." Hermione asked, after a couple of minutes of them eating in silence. "What do you suggest we do about finding somewhere to sleep tonight?"

Draco looked up at her thoughtfully. "Dunno," He answered, shrugging. "Don't suppose you know of any Order members willing to take in a disgraced Death Eater?" The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched up as he asked.

Was that a joke? Did Malfoy just crack a joke at me? Hermione nearly choked on the bite of muffin in her mouth. Maybe he's not as big of a git as he was at Hogwarts...maybe.