War, the worst thing a man could do to another, was raging, just feet above her head, or was it miles now? In any case, Hermione was dying, and so far it wasn't nearly what she had expected. It was pleasant, almost like falling into a slumber, one she knew she would never wake from.

She felt a cool breeze roll across her. It felt funny, and strangely painful. Funny her fingertips wouldn't move, neither would her toes. Funny but odd. Somewhere in a half remembered dream she remembered screaming, for help

She ran toward the back of the house so she could try to make her escape. Without a wand she was as good as a Muggle. As she ran she was seized around the waist and pulled into a closet. She tried to scream but a firm hand clasped over her mouth. “Shhh, Hermione its me Draco.”

He felt sorry for the girl, what ever she was going through was harsher than anyone would have to put up with. He stood walking quietly into the kitchen, not that he needed to be quiet, no amount of shaking or screaming ever managed to wake the girl, he knew, he tried. Draco yawned closing his eyes when he flipped on the light switch to his right. “Oi! Granger!” he screamed as he opened them.