A/N: This chapter was originally about twice as long (and still not fully fleshed out) before I realized I needed to split it up into two. The good news there is that it means you can count on me posting the next chapter relatively soon after this one!

I've written over 12,000 words in less than a week for this story, and even though the characters technically belong to a transphobic jerk, I'm still pleased and proud of how the plot and process are going.


Hermione awoke in much the same way that she had gone to bed the night before: uncomfortable, frustrated, and trying desperately not to feel hopeless. Yesterday's game of Truth or Dare had quickly devolved into a banal Q&A, where they'd discovered nothing more exciting than a shared pet-free childhood and the other's favorite tea. The evening had been stilted and awkward from start to finish, and while it could be argued that a tepid connection had begun to grow, she wasn't deluding herself into thinking it would be enough of a foundation to establish trust with the herd.

Malfoy was putting out energy bars when she returned from relieving herself in a secluded clump of bushes. "Message from the boss," he said in greeting, indicating toward her water bottle by the stump as he rifled through his pack. It did not escape her notice that both of their sleeping bags were already rolled neatly next to the tent.

Hermione let out a noncommittal "mmf" in reply, rolling her neck as she made her way into the clearing. While she was certainly adept at tent camping and able to rest somewhat comfortably, there was no denying that the natural ground did not make for ideal sleeping conditions.

She picked up her water bottle with a sigh and focused in on what she was sure would be a disappointed but optimistic response (the man had a decidedly "just keep swimming" air about him, though he was not nearly as charming as a certain blue fish). What she did not expect was the three-part message that appeared.

Shame, but no harm done. There's been an exciting development that changes our schedule. You'll be leaving Hanger today. Details to come.

Curiosity piqued, Hermione raised the bottle to her lips and took a swig, signaling the next message to fill in.

A local magizoologist group is studying nearby and welcomes a gov. collaboration. Take the 11:00 train from Millbrook this morning. Tickets are at the station under H. Granger.

She suppressed a grimace at the idea of shaking up the carefully-planned agenda, the feeling of disappointment at leaving Hanger unsuccessful warring with relief at not having technically failed outright. She took another sip and waited for the rest of the message to populate.

Team rep. will collect you from the station and facilitate transport to the Forest of Dean. Meet & greet tonight, research tomorrow. Magic is allowed once there! -DMCR

Hermione felt like her blood had frozen in her veins as she sat staring at the last message on her bottle, her vision turning black along the edges and her breath coming in short pants. Malfoy didn't seem to notice.

"We've got a little under three hours before the train departs, but I think it makes sense to head out relatively immediately." When she didn't respond, he continued. "So… shall we take down the tent?"

Not here, Hermione told herself. Not with him. She shook her head to clear it, grateful when her vision swam back into focus. "Right," she said briskly, standing and walking over to their shelter. "Ready?"

They made quick work of the tent and had all their gear packed within ten minutes. The hike back to Stagsden would take half an hour or so, and the pair wasted no time getting on the trail.

As they passed near the location of yesterday's centaur encounter, Hermione deliberately slowed her steps to add some distance between her and Malfoy without appearing as though she were falling behind. Trying her best to ease her rapid heartbeat, she paused for a moment and bowed her head, centering her arms and touching the thumb, pointer, and middle fingers of each hand to her forehead and breastbone respectively. She exhaled into the soft breeze and hoped her gratitude would be received. Then she was moving again, not wanting to deal with Malfoy's judgments if he happened to catch her moment of reverence.

Hermione was so lost in thought that she barely registered the streaming sun that warmed her face and forced her to squint. It wasn't until she almost walked directly into Malfoy's back that she even realized they had gotten to the edge of the woods. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of her stumbling steps, eyebrow raised.

"Alright there, Granger?"

"Of course," she huffed, bristling under his gaze and stepping up beside him, pulling out her agenda. I'll have to rewrite the whole thing, she thought dimly. "What time is it? We still need to arrange a cab to the station."

Malfoy rolled his eyes but dutifully checked his wristwatch. "We've got two hours 'til our train departs, and it's a 20-minute ride to the station. So we could either spend the time surrounded by rushing travelers, or stop somewhere in old Stagsden for a proper breakfast." He glanced sideways at her. "Your call."

Hermione barely felt the irritation at his indirect response. I asked what time it was, not how much time we had, the back of her mind snarked, but it was easily pushed aside by the numbness creeping in from the edges of her brain. Gently, she shook her head again, trying to dislodge the tremors that had invaded what felt like every major organ.

"Er, no, I don't—" she took a breath. "Whatever you want to do."

He was looking at her strangely, she was almost certain, but she stared pointedly at her notebook, pretending to take in any of what was written there to avoid his stare.

"Alright then," he sighed after a moment, sounding a little frustrated. "I think I saw a café when we arrived. This way."

Almost before she knew it, Malfoy was expectantly holding open a door to a small coffee shop. Hermione stepped through and immediately off to the side.

"Back corner's open," he said softly somewhere over her left shoulder. She nodded, and when she didn't move, he stepped around her and made his way to the furthest isolated of many open tables. Hermione blinked, then gratefully followed.

As she sat down, Malfoy handed her a menu from the center of the table. "We're in for a bit of travel today," he said, eying her somewhat warily. "Might want to take a big breakfast unless you particularly fancy dining on train food again so soon. I'm going to see about a cab."

He walked away, leaving Hermione alone with the rest of the café spread out before her. Pull it together, love, she told herself, hearing her mum's voice deliver the message. Start with breakfast. You can choose what to eat for breakfast, that's not so hard.

By the time Malfoy had returned, Hermione's hands were clenched together under the table and she was repeating egg scramble with sausage and toast and an Earl Grey over and over in her head, terrified that she would lose it in the fog of her rapidly-retreating mind. He took the seat across from her and scanned the menu before lowering it to the table.

"The cab will be here in 45 minutes—at ten o'clock," he hastily added as her eyes flashed at him. "Should give us plenty of time."

She nodded as a server came over with two glasses of water. "What can I get started for you?"

"I'll have an egg scramble with sausage and toast, and an Earl Grey, please," Hermione told the woman's chin with a brilliant smile that was probably too much now that she thought about it, but sod it, at least she was being overly friendly instead of frantically unapproachable.

"Er… the same, please." Malfoy looked somewhat taken aback by her sudden shift but recovered quickly with a minute shake of his head. "And could you bring a pot for the table instead?"

"Right you are, love, we'll have that right out," the woman smiled at them both and turned back to the kitchens.

Hermione took out her notebook and a pen, intent on doing something productive with her time. This agenda needed rewriting, dammit, and she would feel better once it was accurate. There was an undeniable peace of mind that came with knowing your future self could rely on what your present self had prepared.

She rifled through the pages until she reached the timeline she had written all those weeks ago. Narrowing her eyes and taking in each word with a rather ridiculous determination, Hermione began copying the contents over to a fresh page, pointedly skipping a line to account for the unexpected addition (I'll fill that in at the end, she told herself). It was slow going, flipping between the original and in-progress agendas. Even slower since it seemed like her eyes saw the words and knew they were words and knew what the words were and what they meant, but could not interpret them. Ah yes, time for mindless memorization. Welcome back, my old friend.

"Granger." Malfoy spoke softly. "Are you… is everything alright?"

"Of course, Malfoy, everything's fine," she replied blithely without looking up, not sure if she was pretending or really just that detached right now. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just… your hand." Hermione immediately clenched both of her hands into fists, crinkling the pages she was holding as she tried to look totally fine, definitely fine, not at all acting worrisomely. "It was shaking rather badly."

"Oh was it? That's odd. No, I'm fine." Oh yes, quite convincing, dear.

The food and tea arrived just as she finished the meticulous feat of copying over her agenda, made even more painstaking by the effort it took to force her hands to remain steady so Malfoy would leave her alone. The meal passed in silence, and before she knew it they were loading their gear into the trunk of a cab, then standing in front of a ticket office window in the middle of a train station.

"Yes, we're picking up two tickets for H. Granger, eleven a.m. departure," Malfoy said to the man behind the counter.

"Of course, sir. May I see some identification, please?"

"Oh! Yes, just a moment." Hermione fumbled for her wallet, mentally cursing herself rather viciously for not thinking to have it ready. After a few excruciating seconds, she extracted her driver's license and passed it over to the man with an only slightly alarming tremor in her hand. She rather blindly hoped Malfoy didn't notice. Oh shit, or the teller. She sent the man a winning smile, hoping to reassure him that she was here of her own free will, but he was already typing her information into the computer.

"Here we are," he announced a moment later. "Your train departs at eleven o'clock from track 14." The number of days in a row I'm going to spend with Draco Malfoy, her mind offered dully, tuning out the rest of the information the teller was giving her companion. At Malfoy's look, she nodded and walked just a little behind him so she wouldn't have to pay attention to the station around her.

The rest of the trip passed in a haze. They waited. Then they boarded. Then Hermione was taking in the rushing landscape, thinking that finally the world seemed to match how her mind felt.

"Granger." Malfoy's voice immediately broke her out of the daze she'd been in for—how long was I staring out the window? Her eyes snapped to his and she felt more clearheaded than she had since that morning. He held her gaze. "I know something's not right. I'm not expecting you to tell me what it is, I'm just letting you know I'm aware, and I'll take point tonight. If that works for you, I mean."

Hermione blinked then felt herself frown slightly as her head gave a jerky nod.

"Alright," he said, still looking at her rather apprehensively. "Just… take care."

…of it, her mind supplied rather nastily, no longer sounding anything at all like her mother. Pull it together, girl.

Then the train had come to a stop and Malfoy had handed her her gear and they'd stepped onto a mildly congested platform. After a brief pause, Malfoy said, "Ready?" and tipped his head in the direction of a tall, smiling woman holding a piece of cardboard with DMCR written hastily in Sharpie. Hermione nodded.

"Hi, I'm Char!" the woman greeted them as they approached. "You must be Hermione and Draco. Welcome to Gloucestershire!" She beamed at them and Hermione managed a warm smile. She never thought she'd be thanking her years of forced happiness in the constant and uninvited spotlight, but today her involuntary training had helped her save face more than once.

"Thanks for meeting us here, Char," Malfoy said graciously. "We're thrilled to be working with your team for the next few days!"

The two exchanged pleasant conversation as they all made their way out of the station. Hermione did her best to nod and smile where she felt it was appropriate and counted it as a win that Char didn't seem put off by her behavior.

"Oh, there's a great little shop right down here," their guide said lightly, ushering them down an alleyway on their left. Once they had walked past several sets of bins, she turned to the pair. "Everyone good with side-along?"

Hermione was sure her eyes were unnaturally wide as she nodded at Char and looped her arm through the other woman's. You can do this, you have to do this, you're getting paid by the government to do this. It's just a place. You can do this. You ca—

There was a sharp tug around her navel as her gut clenched even tighter (if that was possible) and she was whisked away to the last place on earth she wanted to be.