She sighed as she stretched out on the soft cream, silk sheets that encompassed her. Lifting her heavy down comforter from her silk-clad body, she stretched. She looked over at her night table where her clock and a small box holding her everyday pearl earrings were. As per usual, there was an emerald green box with a silver ribbon on it. She remembered when she was first brought here. She was such an ungrateful brat. She fought everything he did for her. She was strong and proud. When she saw his satisfied smirk when he bought her from the snatchers she had vowed to deny him anything, to be as stubborn as could be. She would rather die than serve him. When she had been first put on the market, bid on, and then sold, she imagined being used as a slave, to be shown off as a trophy. The brain of the golden trio serving a death eater, that was why she was kept alive instead of killed like many of the other order members when Voldemort took over. It was fitting that Voldemort's right hand man would get to keep Harry Potter's right-hand girl. She had given herself up so that Harry and Ron could get away, to keep on their hunt for the horcruxes. As far as she knew, they were still alive. It had been two years since her capture, and she was being treated like a queen here. She reached for the box, and as always, it had a heavy weight to it. She opened it: a new book for her budding library.
When she had first been brought to Draco Malfoy's manor, she noticed that it lacked the gloomy décor of his parents. His manor was statelier, and more of a traditional manor, painted with cream colors however accented with silver and light emerald instead of the traditional gold and blush. She had been given a room in the same second-floor wing on as Malfoy's however their rooms were separated by his upstairs study, the bedrooms of his two guards, and a library which he had built especially for her. The library had a stair case that lead down to the original library on the first floor which was adjacent to his office where he spent most of his day. The upstairs part of the library, her part, was mostly empty when she arrived. He had stocked it with the books he had often seen her reading at Hogwarts. Now however it had changed. He had given her at least one book every day. He knew that if he had given her gifts of expensive clothes and shoes she would have walked them to his study, and have thrown them in the fire place in front of him. However he knew her love for books; everyone at Hogwarts did. He knew she wouldn't burn a book. So reluctantly she accepted the gifts every day.
After scanning the book and writing a note as to where she wanted to organize it in her library, she lifted a small bell on the night stand. A maid appeared from outside her door. Malfoy surprisingly had given clothes to all of his house elves and instead had bought many other captured Order members to be the servants of his household. While they still had an undesirable life in servitude, he never beat them, gave them all a warm bed and a healthy meal three times a day, and had so many servants that each one only had one small mundane task. She asked her to draw a bath.
Hermione, proud and defiant would never have accepted the gifts given to her by Malfoy, nor would she have indulged in the luxuries he had provided her. But one night after a month of her defiance, he barged into her room.
"Do you not understand how well off you are here?" he stated unnervingly calm.
"Do you not understand I would rather fight or be beaten or starved, or taken advantage of than be treated well while so many others suffer," she gasped.
"Oh, trust me Granger, I know you would. You're insufferable. You're stubborn. You're noble. You're a martyr. But if you die, if you leave, if you deny yourself the luxuries that I provide, than the 500 servants I have bought will be useless to me. I would sell them back into slavery. They would be bought by masters less kind than me. I would fill my manner with house elves instead. Would you like that? You would martyr yourself and all these people would suffer due to you stubbornness."
After that day, she hated him. He sent a letter inviting her to dinner every night and every night she would refuse. Her emerald boxes filled with books would remain unopened. Her closet was stocked with the most expensive fashion and robes, yet she would only wear the most humble of shirts and jeans. Two months passed this way until he had entered her room again one afternoon.
"Why, Granger, why do you do this?" He was less calm this time
"I do not want your gifts or your money, money that was made from the injury and deaths of the people I loved." She whispered.
"That money goes to my family. My money is from Malfoy industries alone."
"Why do you do this? Why do you treat me so? I thought you hated me. I want you to hate me!" She burst. He raised an eyebrow, and turn to leave. As he was reaching for the handles of the double doors she screamed in tears, "Why Malfoy?"
He barely glanced behind him as he calmly stated: "Because, Hermione, you deserve the world."
That night everything had changed. She went to dinner with him. She wore the clothes he bought for her. She even accepted his gifts. At times she would get a spark of her old defiance, but she calmed herself by saying she could gather information, or even turn Malfoy if she was given the chance. She could read up on spells or charms or anything that could help Harry defeat Voldemort. She would store it in her mind so that she would remember it when, or if, she ever saw Harry again. She would ask for information. She had to validate her luxury otherwise she would go mad from sitting idle.
After sitting in her warm claw-foot bathtub filled to the brim with soothing oils and soft bubbles, she emerged, dried off, and chose a simple outfit of jeans and a silk white top with a rose cardigan. She sat at her vanity putting on her jewelry when Malfoy entered. She hardly glanced up when he came in. He walked to her night table and look at the note that displayed where the book would be placed in her library.
"You'd put this in Healing? I thought it would be filed under Defense? Or maybe even Potions?"
"Defense is pre-attack. These are about post attacks. It's healing." She said wantonly.
"Hmmm. It is your library."
He had remained much the same since school. He was tall, handsome, and had an air about him that caused many to fear him. His icy grey eyes pierced through anyone they fell upon, yet his hair look soft now that his white-blonde locks were no longer cemented back but instead left to fall in an tousled manner to his eyebrows. There was something that was different about him. Like the young order members, he tortured himself night and day with personal training. His lean quidditch-built muscles turned thicker, and his build was much more fearsome. In a time when children were robbed from their freedoms to fight, he, like many other students trained so that their bodies could match their older opponents where their minds could not.
She too had toned. Her golden skin and hair contrasted deeply with his pale complexion, as did his height of 6'2'' with her stature of 5'4''. However they were equals in wit and intelligence. Thus their dinners together were filled with stimulating conversations and heated debates. They were careful not to get to personal otherwise they would offend the other. If Malfoy were offended, he would cause the whole house agony. If Hermione were to be offended, she would cause Malfoy agony.
"Malfoy, I know you didn't come here to see where I wanted to put this book. Out with it."
"I have some business in Diagon Alley today. I wanted to see if you would come with me."
"Why would I come? You know I hate the changes made there. Its so bleak and depressing. Nothing like the vendor lined streets that contributed to the splendor of the small cozy shops." She retorted.
"I know, but I had hoped you would do it as a favor to me. I have to meet an associate for lunch. He is bringing his wife and he expects me to bring a date," He admitted.
"Pansy not available? You know she dotes on you. Even though her husband is too thick to notice," she replied.
"Please do not talk about Blaise that way. You know he's my best mate. And no, she's not available. Too busy looking planning their nursery. So, please, Hermione, will you come with me?" he genuinely asked.
"Only if we get to go to Flourish and Boltts," she demanded
"Done."
He walked over to her closet and looked through her outfits. He pulled out a black pencil skirt and a grey silk top. "I'm not changing Draco."
"Yes, Granger you are." The look in his eyes said it all. She grabbed the clothes and walked to the bathroom to change. When she came out, he had selected a pearl necklace to wear and a matching pair of black velvet pumps with pearl detailing. She put both on without complaint. She would make him buy her as many books as they both could carry for her compliance. He had her heavy travelling cloak trimmed with black white fur. To her quizzical look he replied: "it's rather chilly even for this late in March."
With that they walked down the grand staircase, bid farewell to their servants, and apparated to Diagon Alley. As they left, a barn owl was arriving to Hermione's window carrying a letter with familiar jagged scrawl.
