Chapter I

Attempting to blend into dirt is degrading.

Compound this with the knowledge that, if found, taunts would be made regarding your blood heritage and life suddenly feels like a giant heap of unfair.

Hermione Granger had been struggling to remain hidden for over an hour. The Death Eaters had been circling her temporary camp ground in the middle of the Bialowieza Forest in Belarus for what felt like an eternity. They had found her wand instantly. She had dropped it out of sheer terror after hearing the first pop of Apparition close by and now she was mentally kicking herself for the stupidity of it. The best plan she could muster was to press her face in the dirt and hide in the dense forest shrub on the outskirts of the clearing until they disappeared, hopefully leaving her wand behind. Hermione was thankful that it didn't appear to be herself they were after.

She had been on the run for a year. Voldemort, as it turned out, was a whole lot more powerful than anyone had ever anticipated. Upon defeating Harry at Hogwarts castle in their final showdown, Hermione had Apparated out of the area as fast as she could. The Bialowieza Forest was the first place that had sprung in her mind. She had visited once as a Muggle tourist, before she had ever known about magic. It was a perfect hideaway, due to its sheer size and distance from England.

In hindsight, Hermione knew she had been a coward. Of course, her cowardice had spared her life. The Muggleborns who had remained behind in their defeat had been annihilated within seconds.

She hadn't seen or heard from a single member of the Weasley family since her exile and she had resisted the temptation of finding her parents in Australia. Hermione had told herself that Ron would understand why she had disappeared so quickly, but the sharp voice in the back of her mind told her he was probably dead. Her parents did not even know she existed.

She was utterly and completely alone. The few people Hermione had been in contact with had not wanted to help. It was much safer to turn a blind eye and silence her desperate pleas than to become the next victim of Voldemort's anti-Muggle vendetta. The penalty for aiding a Muggleborn was death. The penalty for being a Muggleborn was torture and then death.

It appeared even the Death Eaters were starting to question their loyalties to the Dark Lord. From the snippets of information she had managed to digest, it appeared that nothing made you safe. Not even a Dark Mark. Hermione had heard reports that Death Eaters had been dying at the hand of Voldemort at the same rate as the Muggleborn conspirators they were charged with detaining. The level of truth in this rumour was yet to be revealed however, as Hermione had spent the best part of the year attempting to dodge death.

Hermione was disgusted, although not at all surprised, to recognise the Death Eaters in her clearing. Classmates from what felt like a lifetime ago at Hogwarts, though it had only been two years, they all had belonged to the house of Slytherin. The humiliation of being found covered in mud grew tenfold.

She could see the silver glow of Draco Malfoy's hair as he squatted next to where her wand had been found. He was examining it with undivided curiosity, occasionally raking his eyes across the clearing. Once or twice, Hermione was sure he had seen her as she cowered under low laying shrub, but he appeared to see straight through her.

"We are wasting our time," Millicent Bulstrode said with agitation as she walked her hundredth circle around the clearing, kicking rocks out of her path and not really knowing for sure what she was supposed to be looking for, "We were meant to be back at the Manor half an hour ago. The Dark Lord doesn't care for the trivialities of an abandoned wand."

Draco snorted from his place in the clearing but didn't comment. He was still consumed by the wand that balanced delicately on the palm of his hand.

"Millicent is right, we should go back," Miles Bletchely, the leader of the group, agreed, "There is nothing here. Draco, stay behind and cast the necessary charms should the wizard come back. If it is a Mudblood the Dark Lord will want us to get rid of it."

Draco nodded and watched as the rest of the group Disapparated before getting to his feet and pulling his own wand from his robes.

Hermione observed with bated breath as he glanced once more at her wand in his hand. He seemed to be weighing a decision in his mind and Hermione did not like the look of determination that suddenly flickered across his sharp features as he seemed to make his choice.

"Granger, I can see you hiding in that bush," Draco said loudly into the cool afternoon sun, looking directly at the hiding spot Hermione was currently occupying.

Hermione choked back her fear. Her mind racing, she didn't move an inch. What was she to do? She couldn't possibly make a run for it. Draco would hit her in the back with a stunning spell (if she was lucky) before she had made it past the first trees. If he caught her, she would be as good as dead. Without her wand she was defenceless. The few wandless spells she knew were useless. She mentally kicked herself again for being stupid enough to drop her wand in the first place.

"Granger!" Draco growled again impatiently when she still hadn't moved. He pointed his wand at the shrub and waited for her to stand. She did so slowly, hands raised.

"Malfoy," Hermione nodded curtly, trying to neutralise her face and failing miserably. She could tell she was wearing a mask of utter petrifaction.

Draco continued to stare at her, unblinking and when he didn't instantly attempt to kill or curse her, she lowered her hands.

"How long have you been hiding here Granger," he asked briskly, glancing around once more at the circle of trees and thick undergrowth, the disdain evident on his sharp features.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure how to respond. She could not decipher Draco's motivation in conversing with her and she was afraid of giving too much away. A year living within the Bialowieza Forest's walls had made her a little crazy. She knew she was starting to lose a grip on what was reality. The loneliness that had engulfed her in the weeks after her escape was now suddenly palpable as she relished in the first human contact she had had in months. Hermione did not even care that her company was Draco Malfoy, archenemies, and that he had a wand trained on her or that he had a fierce look upon his face that made her uncertain of what he planned to do next.

"That depends on your definition of here," Hermione said carefully, "do you mean this clearing or the forest?"

"Both," Draco replied evenly. He was yet to lower his wand, and Hermione was uncomfortably aware of her own wand still residing with him.

"This particular spot is temporary," Hermione told him, "I was only here a few hours prior to your arrival. As for the forest, I've been here all along."

It certainly wasn't a lie and she hadn't given anything important away. The permanent clearing that had become her home was several kilometres away, protected by enchantments and spells. Hermione would not speak the location to Draco could she help it. It was the only spot on Earth where, for the moment, she safely belonged. As isolated as it was, she craved its comfort and security now more than ever. She was certain that at any moment she was about to die.

Draco looked her over thoughtfully. She looked exactly as she had a year ago in the final battle at Hogwarts; perhaps a fraction thinner, but still healthy and young. She was covered in debris from the forest floor and her hair was a matted knot on top of her head. Her winter-thick clothes were showing signs of wear and her gloved hands were smeared with dirt. He was surprised at the relief he had felt upon discovering her wand. She was the connection to the Old World he had begun to crave with each passing day. Lord Voldemort, in his opinion, had been a giant mistake.

"Are there others?" He asked casually, attempting to gauge her situation.

Hermione shook her head mutely, not daring to take her watchful eyes off the boy who had caused her such despair since her entrance into the wizarding world nine years prior.

Draco just nodded, satisfied that they were alone, and then, to Hermione's surprise, lowered his wand. She visibly relaxed as the threat he posed dissipated.

"Where are you staying?" He enquired, "How are you surviving?"

Hermione laughed a humourless gurgle that she hadn't utilised in a long time, "I'm not telling you anything Malfoy."

Hermione had, over the course of a few months, managed to acquire several important documents she was hoping to use to spark a chain of events that would, with a bit of luck, lead to the demise of the current regime. In her possession were maps indicating the locations of several known Death Eater base camps and proposed ghettos for the Muggles that had been unfortunate enough to survive the mass genocide Voldemort had systematically carried out in his first six months of power. She had also managed to seize several documents, outlining plans to divvy up the wealth and power to the remaining Pureblood families, once the ghettos had been effectively put in place and the last of the Muggleborns and Blood-Traitors had been rounded up and disposed of. Hermione had been disgusted to also discover that Voldemort planned to use the remaining Muggles as slaves and guinea pigs for testing of a proposed sterilization charm.

Draco narrowed his eyes as he watched her and then, almost without thought, threw the girl's wand back to its owner. Hermione caught it with a surprised squeak, a red spark emitting from its end as it was returned. Hermione looked down at it with confusion and then back at Draco. He had just aided her in the ability to escape his capture. Looking closely, Hermione realised he didn't look at all concerned about the possibility of her getaway. She took a step back towards the trees and thick vegetation, preparing to dart for cover as soon as his attention waned.

"I have no interest in harming you Granger," Draco spoke calmly as he watched her edge towards safety, "I'm looking for my own escape."

Hermione pulled up short. Draco Malfoy was attempting to escape? From what! She had never felt more spite towards another human being in all her life. Did he not realise the sheer amount of luck he had been born with? Pureblood and a Malfoy. He would have been spared no matter what the outcome had been in the final battle. He was like a slippery snake, with the ability to slime his way out of every tight situation he had ever been faced with. What could have possibly happened in the real world for Draco Malfoy to want out?

"What happened to you Malfoy?" Hermione asked venomously, "Voldemort proving too much for you? Should have thought about that before you and your idiot friends decided he was the best way to get what you wanted."

Hermione had heard that life in the open was hard for everyone. How could it not be with a deranged psychopath implemented as head of state? But she had never considered, not in a million years, that the boy standing before her, looking as maliciously proud as the day they had met, would be having second thoughts about his choice to support Voldemort.

Hermione's lip curled with disdain.

Draco had made it clear from an early age that he wanted nothing more than to rid the world of people just like her. He had gone out of his way to prove to her how much he despised her. He had taken the Dark Mark and attempted to kill Dumbledore to confirm he was a wicked threat to be taken seriously.

Hermione could not believe he had the gall to stand before her and complain while she had struggled and fought and clawed to survive in the desolate wilderness that had forcefully become her home.

How dare he stand there with that woe-is-me attitude!

"I was disillusioned," Draco replied, trying to keep his voice calm, "and you have no idea what you are talking about."

Draco had loathed Hermione for almost a decade. As a child in school, he would entertain himself for hours writing a list about all the things he didn't like about her. He hated her friends, her cleverness, her rise in fame. He hated her ridiculously unruly hair. He hated her blood. But what he had hated the most was the way she occasionally looked at him with pity instead of abhorrence. There had never been anything to feel sorry about.

The hate that he had felt was mellowed by the dawning realisation that perhaps the Muggleborn was his ticket out of the current animosity that had become the daily ritual of his life.

"Tell me Malfoy, which part of Voldemort have you been disillusioned by?" Hermione seethed, her breath coming hard and fast as her anger threatened to boil over, "Was it all the people he has murdered to get what he wants or the bit where he doesn't give a shit about your worthless family anymore?"

Her words were like a slap in the face. Draco was suddenly seeing red. Anger, mingled with unadulterated family pride swelled within and he took a lunging step forward, causing Hermione to recoil quickly, moving further into the trees. He dived after her, collecting her around the neck and knocking her to the ground. Hands around her throat, he squeezed hard, attempting to stifle the air, and his embarrassment, in her lungs.

Hermione, for the second time that day, had dropped her wand in fright. She gasped in surprise as Draco's face loomed over her own. His mouth was twisted in an ugly snarl and he was going red in the face. A vein was throbbing dangerously down his temple. Hermione thought he looked deranged.

She bucked violently, attempting to flip him off; her arm splayed wildly grasping hopelessly for her wand which was just out of her reach. She was helpless underneath him. Weak.

"Mal – Malfoy!" Hermione spluttered as her eyes rolled out of focus and the wind left her lungs.

Draco was going to kill her. She couldn't believe it.

Just as the thought entered her mind, the pressure on her neck subsided.

"You have no idea what you are talking about," Draco spat at her. He pushed himself up off the ground, collecting her wand once again, this time failing to return it.

Hermione rolled over onto her hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air. Her throat was raw, and she knew without feeling that red welts had already begun to appear on the sides of her neck where Draco's fingers had been moments before.

"Take me with you," Draco snarled, watching callously as she attempted to get to her feet.

"No."

Draco raised his wand portentously, aiming it straight at Hermione who hung her head in dejected defeat. She spun on her heel without a word, and began marching through the forest. Draco followed.