Hello there! So, I'm a Spanish writer and I've decided to try translating this fanfic into English (it's mine and there are more chapters in Spanish). I just think there isn't enough Lumione fanfic out there, and I wanted to write a story that keeps them in character, so that's what I'm trying to do here.

That said, since English is not my first language, I'm not sure how well this translation turned out. I would be grateful for any corrections or grammatical advice.

Please leave me your nice reviews :)

Thank you!

BOOK ONE

Part 1

Hermione knew from the moment the war started, when Harry told her and Ron about Horcruxes, that not going back to Hogwarts for their last year wasn't going to be easy or pleasant. She thought about the hunger and death creeping up on them at every corner, the hopelessness of an impossible quest, a quest a wizard such as Albus Dumbledor had put upon the young and inexperienced shoulders of teenagers. Hermione thought about herself as someone capable of a lot of things and, in fact, she valued the trust put in them; but more times than not, in the middle of long, cold nights, among the unfriendly whispering of the forest's shadows, she wondered if the old director's decision haven't been born from a lack of other options. Ron's departure, of course, didn't do any good for his lessened faith. She had seen it coming, but it didn't make a difference when worry, darkness and anger had taken over her heart. She did not want to blame him; but she did.

Harry and she, herself, were more patient, didn't reproach each other so much. And yet, Ron's absence was a huge gap between them, as if the bridge that joined together their introspective personalities had simply vanished, leaving them completely alone. Even so, there was still mutual support and tacit understanding in the lowest moments. And Hermione had been grateful for this under the dim lighting of the dying embers of a bonfire they feared leaving for too long, with scavengers and Death Eaters constantly searching for the boy-who-lived.

That's why, perhaps, besides an organic and intrinsic dread, it hurted so much when they were surprised not by scavengers, but by the Death Eaters themselves. They had been heading towards Godric Hollow, they had a plan ─or something that resembled a plan, given the circumstances. It had been of no use. Voldemort's followers were only three, but Hermione knew that if the chase and skirmish continued for too long, more would appear. They were against the clock. Spells and curses were cast one after another. Hermione managed to trap one of the Death Eaters with a childish spell, almost a joke, that gave Harry and her a little leverage. But they were outnumbered, and darkness was descending upon the steep mountains, preceded by clouds with dirty, greyish bellies. The winter air was as merciless as the war ravaging their world. A war that was not for teenagers.

He took shelter behind a thick oak trunk to avoid a lethal curse. They wanted Harry alive, but none of Voldemort's followers cared about the life of a mudblood who was also part of the inner circle of the boy-who-lived. She panted, cold sweat beading her temples, while she strained her ears to pick up at any movement, any rustling of leaves or branches that could warn her of her enemies' location. A scream came from her left. Harry roared a sectumsempra that missed the target. Hermione rushed to his aid with a spell on the tip of her tongue, but she came face-to-face with a silver masked man that stopped her onslaught with astonishing dexterity.

"Run!" Harry's voice came from somewhere into the woods. "Hermione! Run away!"

Hermione rebelled in the face of doing that. We can't afford to get isolated from each other, even more so after Ron's departure, she thought with despair while exchanging spells with the Death Eater who had her cornered. Everything is going wrong.

A red flash tore the fabric of her sweater. The sharp sting spread up her arm even as she casted an incendio at her attacker. The black robe that showed his ideals burned in high orange flames that shone in undulating movements under the treetops. The ashes were released into the atmosphere, they floated suspended for a moment; Hermione didn't stay to watch. She ran between the tall trunks, so close together that it almost gave the sensation that the entire terrain was a labyrinth, a playing field. A tailor-made hunting field. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she ran, tripping over the thick roots that broke the earth, but the cold and speed soon turned them into frost on her face. The Death Eater stalked her like a panther, alone, while the remaining two went in pursuit of Harry. He had thrown off his robe, torn to shreds by the flames she had summoned, and now his long, light hair shone with a pale, milky sheen in the moonlight. Lucius Malfoy, Hermione thought with a mixture of faintness and aversion. It made sense that, unlike the others, he hadn't thrown unforgivable curses against her. He wanted her alive, just as he'd have wanted Ron alive, especially Ron, being the son of Arthur Weasley, whom Malfoy deeply despised. It was personal. But Hermione had no intention of falling into his clutches alive; she also couldn't rule out the possibility that Malfoy wanted to curry Voldemort's favor by handing her over as a torture offering.

She wasn't aware of how much time passed as she stumbled forward into increasingly gloomy vegetation. Her hands and face were covered in cuts from thorns and branches falling vertically from trees and rock ledges sharp as a werewolf's canines. She was ahead of Malfoy, but hadn't left him completely behind. The sound of his movement behind her was deafening in the stillness of the depths of the forest, the soft sound of rain was almost part of that opaque silence. Malfoy had yelled at her at some point, trying to provoke her with insults that hardly hurted Hermione's sensitivity. He had fallen silent as soon as she made it clear to him that he was not going to achieve anything that way. The silence now was much worse: suffocating, claustrophobic.

Suddenly a harsh squawk to her left startled her greatly. She staggered to the side when a rock knocked her off balance and she had to lean against a tree for support. The black wooden surface tickled the tips of her fingers like the course of a river. Wide eyed, she looked around. That sound had made her hair stand on end, she couldn't help but remember all the things she had read in books, about nightmares that lurked in the forests. It smelled like wet earth, honey and withered flowers, and a small stream ran along the side of the tree on which she was leaning, there were enormous water lilies covering its surface. Water lilies. In winter, in a place like that. But the place that surrounded her didn't have the dying appearance of the coldest months of the year. Hermione, livid, licked her dry lips trying to think. There was something hair-rising there, she could tell: something about that place was wrong. It didn't seem like the same forest she had been in with Harry, where they had been surprised.

Stop shaking, she told herself, hysterical. She didn't even know for sure where it came from. Her growing fear. I have to figure out where I am as soon as possible and find Harry. Malfoy doesn't seem to be…

She didn't see it coming. The hand emerged from the shadows, closed around her neck and slammed her hard against the trunk. Splinters of bark stuck into his back. Hermione gasped. Long, sinewy fingers gripped them so tightly that she could barely get any air.

"Well, such a delightful surprise, Miss Granger. ¿Walking through this grove under the moonlight?" Lucius Malfoy looked down at her with a cold smile plastered on his face, devoid of the silver mask. He grabbed the wrist with which she held her wand, pinning it down, leaned against her ear and spoke in a low hiss, full of rage. "You are a greater inconvenience than I thought possible for someone of your… condition. Especially considering that you also carry the weight of some unfortunate companies. I hope you don't harbour any doubts about how that'll play out for you from now on. Oh, but fear not, creature. It won't be much different from what awaits Potter".

A rush of anger washed over Hermione. But the way the other man's fingers dug into her throat, almost deforming it, prevented her from getting the air needed to respond to his diatribe. Her eyes watered.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, ¿am I being too rude?", he asked mockingly. His grip loosened slightly. "It's unbecoming of a gentleman to treat a lady poorly; no matter how questionable her… provenance is".

Hermione didn't think it twice: she spat pointedly in his face. For Harry, for Ron. She took advantage of the other's shock to try to free her wand's hand. He was stronger than her, however, and it didn't take him long to overcome the surprise. His hand crossed her face with a horrible blow; The sound that reverberated in the oppressive and gloomy atmosphere of the forest vaguely reminded her of a cannon's firing. She coughed. Blood splashed on the stirred earth. Pain spread across her cheek and neck and she could barely hold onto tiny crumbs of satisfaction when she felt the tip of a wand under her chin.

Malfoy wiped his face with his forearm, a deadly, terrible expression.

"A Gryffindor, of course. My mistake. Won't happen again. Now, the Dark Lord will be pleased to meet such a splendid member of Godric's house, you will agree with me".

"You and your family are pathetic". Her throat burned, her voice was hoarse. She knew she was in a very bad situation, but still forced herself to slur her words out. "You have fallen from grace on both sides and there is not a shred left of that despicable pride that you displayed so much to prevent you from becoming a disgusting second-class sycophants of…"

Malfoy increased the pressure of his wand under her chin.

"I would advise you to check your speeches about class and to reign in your temperamental nature", he said acidly. "My son used to say you were somewhat clever".

She swallowed. She was lost, she knew she was lost. She could only hope that Harry had managed to escape his pursuers, he was the only hope of the wizarding world to defeat that psychopath. Tears began to slide down her cheeks again. At this point, she didn't even care about Malfoy's pleased smile. It was nothing against what Voldemort and his followers were doing to so many people, to so many lives, it was dust and ashes against the helplessness of failing to protect not only those lives, but justice and freedom. She thought about Ron, although she wasn't sure if with disappointment, anger or sadness. Maybe all of it. She would never see him again.

And then something happened.

It started with a funnelling sensation in the small of his back. The surface of the trunk hadn't stopped moving, but Hermione had had enough on her plate to have worried about that very slight tickle. Now it became stronger. The tickling turned into a whirlwind of suction that made her brown eyes and mouth go wide open. She barely had time to notice the sudden tension in Malfoy's arms before the damp cold spilled onto her back. She fell backwards, upwards, the sound of waterfall filling her ears. A flash of white light blinded everything.

The last thing she saw was the other man's gobsmacked look.