"Swanky digs you got here, Hermione," George said cheerfully.

Draco gave George a strange look. "What on earth are you blathering about, Weasley?" he asked. "It's a tent in the middle of the woods."

"Yeah, but do you know how long it's been since I've been outside? Or how long it's been since I've seen a tree?" George didn't wait for Draco to answer. "Because it feels like it's been bloody forever."

Hermione was unable to help her grin as she watched George come alive in a way she hadn't seen since she'd joined the Order. He reminded her, suddenly, of the George Weasley she had known from her summers at the Burrow or at Hogwarts, when Fred was still alive.

Draco, for his part, was staring at Geroge as if her were an alien. His head was tilted to the side, his brows raised. "Right," he said slowly.

"Anyways, I guess we should give you the lay of the land. Pretty simple. Tent." He pointed to the tent. "Wards extend just slightly beyond that tree there. Do with that what you will." Draco shrugged. "That's pretty much all there is to it."

George was still grinning. He nodded. "Looks good to me."

"Oh, there's a lake just through that trail there. It's a good place to swim," Hermione added.

"Swimming?" George asked. "I'm just in the lap of luxury, aren't I?"

"I guess you could say that," Hermione replied, shrugging.

George turned back towards the tent, his grin fading slightly. "Now, I hate to be picky now that I've finally escaped that stupid house, but how many rooms does this place have? No offense, but I get the feeling that you two spend a lot of alone time together."

Draco was looking at George like he was an alien again. "What?" he asked, a confused lilt to his voice.

"Huh?" Hermione said.

George's face reddened slightly, and he briefly cleared his throat. "Shagging," he replied pointedly.

Hermione felt herself blush.

"Ah," Draco replied, smirking lightly. "Right."

She wanted to smack him.

"Not to worry, Weasley," Draco continued. "You will be getting your own room."

Hermione merely nodded, feeling embarrassed that she hadn't even factored that she and Draco had a lot of sex into the decision to bring George along.

Truthfully, it didn't matter—it was a minor inconvenience at worst. But it was suddenly hitting Hermione just how spontaneous her decision to leave the Order behind had been.

Suddenly, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. The feeling gnawed at her gut.

Draco came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Are you all right?" he asked, low enough that George wouldn't hear.

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine."

"I'm going to go build George a room," he replied. "Do you want to come and help, or do you want to stay out here?"

Here. Where she could breathe.

No. It hadn't been a mistake.

"I'll stay," Hermione said quietly.

Draco kissed the top of her head. "Okay," he said. "I'll be back."

As Draco turned on his heel, Hermione exhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

"Come on, Weasley. Let's get you set up. I believe I know a spell or two," he said, trudging back towards the tent.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Breathe—

The gnawing sensation in her stomach eased and Hermione took several steps forward towards her favorite tree. Unsteadily she lowered herself to the ground, leaning back against the trunk of the tree and bringing her knees to her chest.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breathe.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe.

This was fine, Hermione told herself. She hadn't abandoned the Order. She wouldn't stop. Draco wouldn't stop. Everything would be fine.

All of it would be fine.

It was ultimately this thought that soothed her completely.

She opened her eyes and breathed in the scent of the forest. It was familiar, and wonderful. She was here—safe, with Draco, where no one but him would ever touch her.

The sun was on her face, the wind in her hair, and on a different day, she and Draco could go for a swim, the water warm and caressing her bare skin.

Hermione had hidden here before, but it seemed to have shifted. It felt like home. Here, safe with Draco, it felt like home.

Draco returned after a bit, sitting down next her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He was sweating slightly and wearing—

Oh, Hermione's brain nearly shorted out. Draco was wearing a skin-tight, short-sleeved, black t-shirt that clung to his muscles.

"Are you wearing short sleeves?" she asked.

She'd seen him in short sleeves before, but only at bedtime. For Draco, this was positively unseemly.

He smirked at her. "I'm a rebel now, love," he replied. "Thought it best I just lean into."

"You look—" she swallowed. "You look good."

Draco's smirk morphed into a genuine smile and he leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Thank you."

Hermione settled into him, leaning back onto his chest. It had been a hard day, and it felt good to be close to him. "Where's George?" she asked.

"Inside, checking out the new digs." He kissed her forehead again. "Are you sure you're all right? You've been very quiet."

"What if I just made a terrible mistake, Draco?" she asked softly.

Against her, he shrugged. "Then we go back. I will do whatever you want me to do, Hermione. I thought I had made that abundantly clearly."

"You were so worried about getting kicked out…and then I just go and decide that we're leaving," she replied. "You said you didn't want anything interfering with killing Him, and I just did it on a whim."

Draco sighed, wrapped his arm around her more fully and pulling her into him. "Yes, I did say that," he replied quietly. "But I also realized something."

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"What you said to Potter—you were right. The infighting is going to get everyone killed. I can't spend every moment of every day protecting you, defending you," he replied, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers. "That's not to say I wouldn't do it," he continued hurriedly. "I will always protect you—I will always defend you, but it doesn't exactly make for a productive work environment."

"No," she agreed.

"I trust you," he said gently. "I trust your judgment. If you think it's bad enough to leave, then it's a problem and I will absolutely follow your lead. And if you want to go back—then we'll go back."

She nestled against his chest, absently playing with his fingers—a habit she had most likely learned from him. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," he replied earnestly. "So, now what?"

"You have some plans to show me?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head. "That can wait."

"It shouldn't—"

"As much as I appreciate your determination, Hermione, I suspect that you're lying to me when you tell me that you're okay. I'd like you at full force when we discuss me vanquishing the Dark Lord," he replied, wrapping his other arm around her.

"Fair," Hermione said.

"Let's all get settled, then we can regroup," Draco suggested.

"Okay," Hermione agreed.

They relaxed in comfortable silence for a long time until George appeared in front of them, blocking the sunlight. "You neglected to tell me that you don't have a telly," he said.

Hermione sat up. "George, we're in the middle of nowhere. Why would you expect a telly?" she asked. "There's no electricity out here."

George rolled his eyes. "Do you think that weird house that belongs to Fleur's family has electricity? We're magical—there's a spell for everything."

Hermione bit her lip, supposing that George had a point. "I could probably get us one," she said slowly. "I mean, we need food anyways."

"Ah, there's my little thief," Draco said, sounding oddly—proud.

"I'm serious," she continued. "I could probably steal us a telly."

"I would like a telly, please," George replied, folding his arms over his chest.

"I have missed the delicacy that is the sandwich ála voleuse, myself," Draco said.

"Hermione steals?" George asked in confusion.

"A lot," Draco replied, again sounding strangely proud.

Hermione stood, dusting off the butt of her leggings. "I'm off to thieve, then," she said.

"Golden Girl is dangerous, isn't she?" George asked, chuckling.

"You have no idea," Draco replied, his voice thick.

"All right, well this is what I get for making gross jokes, I suppose. I get the actual gross," George muttered.

"I'm coming with you," Draco said quietly.

"No, you're not," Hermione replied emphatically.

"I am."

"No."

"You use my full name all the time and it works, so let me try: Hermione Granger, I am going with you."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "No."

"Solid tactic, mate," George chimed in.

"Shut up, Weasley," Draco shot back, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm going to steal some stuff and it's going to make me feel better," she said. "George, I'm going to get us a telly."

"Thank gods."

She grabbed the handle of her bag and pulled it over her head. "I'll be back," she said.

"Wait!" George called just before she stepped outside her wards and disillusioned herself. She turned to face him.

"Two things: I prefer ham to turkey. And Malfoy is going to follow you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I already knew that, George. And I'll make sure I get you ham."

She took several steps outside of her wards and began to move through the forest.

Draco was disillusioned, too, but far from subtle. He was quiet, and there was nothing in particular that highlighted his presence to her, but she could sense him. She could feel him. She paused in her tracks and sighed. "Draco, I know you're following me."

Immediately, he was in front her, his disillusionment dropped. His arms were crossed over his chest, wand gripped tightly in hand, and his expression was hard. "I told you never to go outside your wards without me again," he said.

Hermione immediately dropped her own disillusionment. "Draco—" she began.

His face softened. "I also meant it as a promise," he interrupted. "I'm not letting you go alone. And you can be pissed off at me for it, but I am not letting you go out there alone. I can't."

She took several steps towards him, placing her palm on his chest. "I had not forgotten my promise to you," Hermione said quietly. She looked up at him and frowned. His nose was still crooked, and there were dark purple bruises blooming below his eyes. In the turmoil, she had neglected to fix it. "Your nose."

Draco's lip quirked and he winced. "Ah," he said. "I'd rather forgotten. It's gone a bit numb."

Hermione pulled out her wand and gently touched the tip of it to his nose. "Episkey," she murmured.

There was a light crack and Draco's nose was immediately straightened, the bruising rapidly beginning to fade.

"There," Hermione said quietly.

Draco dipped his head lower, using his newly repaired nose to brush against her own, urging her face up so he could kiss her. "Thank you."

"All right," she said, pulling away from him. "Let's get going. And since you insist on following me, we need to have some ground rules."

He grinned down at her. "Go on."

"You will not distract me," Hermione said firmly. "You will not attempt to help me. You will be quiet and stay disillusioned until I say otherwise."

"Bossy," Draco murmured, smirking down at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We should disillusion ourselves again."

Draco nodded, taking her hand. "I'll be quiet, and I'll be good," he promised. "And just for the record, I've got your back."

She grinned at him. "I know," she replied. "Once I disillusion myself again, I'm going to apparate us, now that I know I won't lose you."

Draco tilted his head to look down at her. "You were planning on letting me follow you this entire time, weren't you?" he asked, smirking.

"Let's just say I am painfully aware of who you are, Draco," she replied. "Ready?"

Draco's expression turned serious. He flicked his own wand and promptly disappeared.

Hermione could still feel his hand in her own as she disillusioned herself and then apparated them to a little town nearby. It seemed like ages since she'd been here—probably not since she'd started staying at Draco's flat.

With hurried steps, Hermione began to make her way to the little grocer that she was the most familiar with. Draco's hand was still in her own, his pace marching hers precisely.

As she reached the grocer, Hermione pulled out her wand and quickly silenced the little bell that hung over the door before slipping inside. She made her way through the aisles quickly, grabbing bread, meats, cheeses, crisps, tea, and butter. As she was dropping potatoes into her bag, she felt Draco's breath ghost against her ear. She clenched her jaw. He had promised not to distract her.

"What?" she asked under her breath, feeling irritated.

"Green apples?" he asked quietly.

Her irritation evaporated. Of course he wanted green apples—he loved them.

She quickly pulled him down the aisle and slipped several green apples into her bag. He gently squeezed her hand.

Hermione grabbed one last item—a container of jam—before pulling out her wand again and silencing the bell before slipping out. Her heart was hammering in her chest. It had been easy, but she always enjoyed the rush of adrenaline stealing gave her.

She knew it was wrong, she simply didn't care. Hermione had people to feed, and she didn't particularly want to die because she needed to eat.

Hermione pulled Draco down the sidewalk, avoiding the few people that were on the street before pulling him into an empty alleyway and behind a few bins that were overfilling with trash. She quickly dropped her disillusionment.

Draco did the same, instantly appearing in front of her. His eyes were dark as he backed her up against the wall. His fingers were on her face, gently stroking her cheek. "You are fucking incredible," he said reverently before kissing her.

Hermione kissed him back. "I think you like that I'm a thief."

"It's a fucking bloody turn on, that's for sure," Draco replied, kissing her deeply.

She kissed him again, before eventually pulling away. "As much as I'm sure I would enjoy shagging you against this wall, that is not what we came here to do."

Draco pulled away from her, too, attempting to neutralize his expression. His eyes were still dark and wild, though. "Right," he said, licking his lips. "What's the plan now?"

"There's an electronics store a few storefronts down that way," Hermione replied, tipping her chin forward. "I'm going to do the exact same thing I just did, but I need you to stay here."

Draco raised his brows disbelievingly. "Like fuck I will."

Hermione shook her head. "Draco—this is a bigger one. I can't hold your hand, and I don't want to risk us getting separated. I'll be fine. In my experience, most people don't question disembodied floating objects much." She furrowed her brow. "Well, at least not in the moment." She shrugged. "Anyways, I'll be fine. I just want you to stay here. If I'm not back in 15 minutes, come after me."

Draco was staring at her, his expression now full of concern. He stroked her cheek. "You promise me you'll be okay?"

She nodded. "I promise you. I'm a professional, remember?"

He nodded before kissing her again. "I love you," he said softly. "15 minutes. A second more, and I'm after you."

"Stay here," Hermione said before quickly disillusioning herself and running down the sidewalk, sprinting towards the electronics store. There was no bell here, and Hermione didn't want to risk drawing attention to herself, so she had to wait for several minutes before someone else entered, allowing Hermione to slip in undetected behind them.

While the clerk was distracted by the new customer, Hermione slipped into the back of the store where she quickly found the selection of televisions.

This was where she encountered a problem. She hadn't even considered that while her bag could conceal a television, the opening of the bag itself would not fit a television.

But, of course, she was a witch. She grinned to herself. Hermione pulled out her wand, selected a modest television, and disillusioned it along with herself. Tucking it under her arm, Hermione sprinted from the store, not caring that an alarm went off as she exited the store. There was nothing for anyone to see anyways.

She ran down the sidewalk and back to the alley where she had left Draco, who was predictably pacing back and forth, his expression serious. Hermione grabbed his hand and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "We have to go," she said.

Draco nodded and she felt the twist behind her navel as he instantly apparated them. They appeared just outside her wards, and Hermione quickly dropped her disillusionment. "You got everything? You're okay?" Draco immediately asked, turning towards her.

Hermione tapped the box of the television with her knuckles. "Told you I'm a professional," she said, grinning.

"George will be thrilled," Draco replied, grinning back. "Come on, I'll feel better once we're back inside the wards." He reached for the television tucked beneath her arm.

"With you on that one," Hermione said, allowing him to take the box from her and beginning to walk back towards the tent.

Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Hermione wrapped her own arms around his waist. "Thanks for following me today."

"You are so stubborn—"

She sighed, leaning into his side as they walked. "This whole forest was my life for two years. Just me. I was alone. I stole for myself, I slept by myself, I fended for myself. It was just—it was nice knowing someone had my back for once."

Draco raised his brows. "For once?"

"For always," Hermione replied.

"For always," Draco agreed, kissing the top of her head just as they stepped inside the wards. "Oh, Weasley!" he called. "My girl got you a telly!"

"Oh, thank gods!" George exclaimed, reaching for the box. "I'll set it up now."

Hermione shook her head. "It's food and sex and television for all of you, isn't it?" she asked.

"Pretty much," George replied absently, pulling the television from its box.

She looked to Draco, immediately realizing she had made a mistake. For him, it had never been about food, or sex, or television. He hadn't cared about any of those things—not really. He'd cared about her.

Well, of course he'd liked the sex. They both did.

But he looked hurt. He'd never asked for any of those things from her. His mouth quirked minutely.

The tent was different. There was still the kitchen area and the living room area, if they could have ever been called that. At the back, the tent had been bisected. There were now two distinct rooms, one slightly larger than the other. Hermione assumed the larger room belonged to her and Draco.

She placed her bag on the table and began pulling out the food as George began to fiddle with the television. "I thought I'd make us a treat," Hermione. "Some bangers and mash."

"Sounds wonderful," George said absently, still fiddling with the television.

Hermione filled a pot with water and headed outside, intent on boiling potatoes. Of course, Draco followed her.

Hermione sat down, starting a fire. He sat down next to her. Hermione didn't say anything.

"Have I not been clear?" he asked softly. "Those fucking Snatchers—" he broke off, shaking his head. He looked away. "I'd feel the same way about you with or without the sex."

"I know," she replied quietly. "They hurt you, too, didn't they? The Snatchers."

"They hurt you," he said. "So yes, they hurt me."

Hermione stoked the fire with a branch and nodded. "Do you—" she began, swallowing. "When people touch me—like Dean did—do you see them?"

Draco's eyes widened and he looked away. "For a moment," he said quietly. "But I see them all the time. I see them in my dreams. In my nightmares." He broke off, swallowing. "But when people touch you—mostly, I see your face. Your eyes. There's a look in them that I can't stand."

"Fear?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. "Hopelessness," he replied.

Hermione stared at him, willing him to explain further.

He sighed. "When I pulled them off of you, your eyes were just—empty. For a moment, you weren't Hermione, and I couldn't stand it." Draco sighed again. "I think I loved you even then. I just didn't know it. Because that look—in your eyes—it haunted me." He paused. "It still haunts me." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I saw it the first time we tried to have sex. When you—pulled away. I saw it with Dean. I saw it right before you told Potter and Weasley that you were done. I saw it a lot at the Order. More times than I'd ever care to see it, actually."

Hermione stayed silent, not knowing exactly how to respond. She stared at the fire, stoking it until the flames grew higher.

"You were so unhappy there, Hermione. Every time you left the room, you'd come back on the verge of tears. I hated seeing it. I think—I think that's why I was okay with us leaving," he admitted. "Because I can't bear to see you unhappy."

"Even if it means we don't kill Him?" Hermione asked.

Draco laughed. "Oh no," he said. "I'm still going to kill the bastard. I just also want you to be happy."

Hermione stoked the fire needlessly. The water was beginning to boil. "I don't think I realized how unhappy I was until—today," she said quietly, not looking at him.

"I know," Draco said gently, reaching for her hand.

"And the sex thing—I was mostly making a joke," Hermione continued. "I didn't mean it in any type of way."

"Okay," he replied, just as gently. "I worry sometimes. That it's too much. That maybe you see them, too."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not." Finally, she looked at him, and he was staring with her with such gentle affection that it made her heart ache. "With you, it's not." She wondered how long this had been on his mind—how long he'd been worried about her. Probably since the beginning. Hermione wanted to comfort him, to assure him that everything was okay. She laid her head down on his shoulder, and instantly his arm was around her, pulling her into him. "All I ever see is you."

"Okay," Draco repeated simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head

She could feel him grin against her hair. "Okay," she agreed.

"You should've let me hit him, you know. Even just a little bit," Draco said, his voice muffled by her curls.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I should have. Maybe more than just a little bit." She pulled away slightly, gently touching Draco's nose with the tips of her fingers. "How does it feel?"

Draco scrunched his face up. "Sore, but I'm on the mend. Weasley doesn't have much a swing. I've had worse broken noses."

"Of course, you've broken your nose before—"

There was the crunch of leaves from behind them and they both turned to find George walking towards them. He raised his brows at them. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked.

"Just discussing Draco's multiple broken noses," Hermione replied, feigning irritation.

George broke out into a huge smile. "One of 'em was me," he said, pointing towards Draco. "Whacked a Bludger straight into that smug face of yours."

Draco nodded, looking sheepishly at Hermione. "That was the worst one. Almost fell to my death that day."

George shrugged. "Maybe next time."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to the pot of potatoes, testing their softness. They'd need a few more minutes, she decided. She turned back towards George. "Are you plotting on killing my boyfriend?"

"Accidents happen, Hermione," George replied genially. "Food ready?"

"Almost," Hermione said, ignoring his comment. "Draco, will you start on the sausages?"

Draco stood and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Yes, love," he replied.

Hermione made the potatoes, smashing them into a purée when they were soft enough.

Next to her, Draco cooked the sausages over the open flame until they were brown and crispy.

The three of them ate in comfortable silence in front of the fire, but Hermione could feel Draco's eyes on her face, studying her—considering her. For what, she was unsure.

Hermione and Draco finished eating at approximately the same time, just as George began to help himself to a second round of potatoes. Draco blinked at her twice, slowly, then jerked his chin up minutely. Are you ready? he was asking.

She tipped her head down in acknowledgement. Yes.

Immediately, Draco stood and held out his hand for Hermione. When her fingers curled around his own, he helped pull her up. "We should get started on a plan," he said seriously.

George's chewing slowed. "Ah," he said through a mouthful of potato. "Official Order business. I can make myself scarce."

Draco was back to looking at George like he was an alien. "Mate," he said after a long pause. "Take a look around you. You're in the middle of the woods with a Death Eater. This is not the fucking Order."

George was staring up at Draco. Slowly, he began to grin. "Does this mean I finally get to learn all the Order secrets?" he asked. "I've picked up a few on my own, but I still can't hear through that godsdamned door. Not for lack of trying, though," George muttered bitterly.

"I think we could all do with a bit more transparency, don't you?" Draco asked, looking at Hermione.

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she agreed.

"You're with us now, Weasley," Draco said seriously. "So hurry up and finish eating, we've got some serious plotting to do."

George hastily swallowed his mouthful of potato and stood. "So," he asked, as they walked back toward the tent, "if we're not the Order, then what are we?"

"Isn't it obvious, Weasley?" Draco asked, smirking lightly. "We're the fucking rebels."

George laughed heartily. "I like the sound of that," he replied. "So what's the plan, then?"

Draco shook. "Don't have one yet," he said shortly.

"Well, what's the end goal?" George asked.

Draco looked at George, his expression hard and serious. "I'm going to kill the fucking bastard. Once and for all."

George's smile widened. "Well, bloody hell, Malfoy. I knew there was a reason I liked you."