This is a prequel to "Crushed, Yet Unbroken."

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

CHAPTER 1: The Start of Forever

She does not remember the first time she awakes. Perhaps it is because she does not truly awake. Her eyes open, her head rises and she curls her long fingers around the chains. It is the glazed, blank look in those dark irises that gives it away. She is looking, but she does not see.

And yet, it feels as if her gaze pierces his soul. His breath catches and his body feels frozen. He doesn't understand it and he never will. He has looked into those eyes before, countless times. He has seen them angry, hurt, elated, sad, accusing. But maybe that is exactly what fascinates him now.

He has never seen Hermione Granger's eyes blank.

She closes them before he can think twice about it and the spell is broken. He shakes his head imperceptibly and briefly considers staying just a bit longer. But his father is walking away and his mother is calling him and Aunt Bella is burning holes into his back.

He rises and walks away. It seems he is always walking away.

~0OO0~

He does not come back for weeks. He decides that it is not worth it to go down to the stairs. It is simply because there is no love lost between him and the prisoner's guard. That is it. He is not at all afraid of facing his past in her eyes. He is not at all apprehensive about watching the effects of Aunt Bella's torture take their toll.

And he is certainly not scared shitless of seeing the Unbreakable Granger broken. Not at all.

But he cannot avoid the cell forever. Perhaps he can, in theory, but it is a stupid mistake that sends him back to the cold walls of the Golden Girl's prison.

He takes up Zabini's challenge of sneaking into Aunt Bella's room. He is supposed to add a simple potion to her water glass so that she will wake up tomorrow with green hair. No one is supposed to know. Except that Blaise tells Goyle, and Goyle tells Crabbe, and before long Aunt Bella is fuming and pointing her wand at Draco.

"You insolent piece of shit!" She creams. "How dare you? You believe you can just waltz into my quarters like this, thinking…"

She goes on for a while, shrieking insults and death threats until she calms down enough to issue a punishment that does not involve blood or murder. Or both.

He will spend three hours each day in Granger's cell and watch her. He will then report Aunt Bella. He will not talk to her, he will not touch her, he will not even come nearer than five feet of her.

He will watch.

~0OO0~

He is relieved to find her asleep the next day. She sits on the floor, her ankles and wrists bound by chains. A dirty grey ripped dress hugs her body. It must have been white at some point. Her head hangs down, her unkempt and unwashed curls hiding her face.

He will not have to face her eyes just yet.

She awakes two hours and twenty nine minutes later. He can tell by the way her deep breaths become shallower and her insistent twitching stops. He allows his eyes to roam over her body for the two hundred and twelfth time and he can't help the intake of breath as he spies bruises upon bruises marring her skin near her neck where her hair has moved away. She hears him and slowly brings her head up. The earth-colored locks fall away from her face and he is trapped in her eyes.

They are alive. That is what shocks him the most. There is a fire in them, a force which can move mountains if it has to. There, in a cold dungeon cell deep in the lair of Lord Voldemort, her skin bruised and her hair matted, her crimson blood dried on the floor and no sunlight touching her face in months, Hermione Granger's eyes dance with the flame of faith, and for the first time, Draco Malfoy cannot look away.

That moment will mark the start of forever and the end of infinity.

They are silent for a long time, regarding each other with soundless understanding. She understands why he is here and he understands why he had never wanted to return. But there is nothing they can do about it, so they wait.

~0OO0~

Every day he comes and every day he watches. They don't say a word and he wonders if they ever will.

She speaks first, on the thirteenth day (not that he's counting). It is almost ironic.

"Could I have some water, please?" Her voice is low and rough with disuse, but it is the simplicity and the politeness of the request that startles him the most. Draco stares for a moment and then gets up jerkily and walks out.

"Oy!" he calls out and a Death Eater comes sauntering down the stairs a few minutes later. "She wants water." Draco explains at the man's blank look and waits until he brings the drink lethargically. It does not even cross his mind that she might be bluffing or trying to escape. There is no point anymore.

When he re-enters the cell, he realizes that she cannot drink the water herself. Her hands are bound. He will have to bring it up to her lips. Her eyes are guarded as he steps nearer to her and Aunt Bella's voice rings in his head. You will not even step within five feet of that Mudblood. He keeps moving and all too soon he is on his knees in front of her and his hand is on her jaw as he tilts her face up and puts the glass to her mouth.

There is surprise in her eyes, but whether it is at the gentleness in his touch or the fact that he is touching her in the first place, he cannot tell. He puts the glass down after she swallows the last mouthful, but he keeps his fingers on her skin. It is a feather-light touch that drags on and on, yet none of them seem to want to let go. Somehow, he drifts even closer to her so that his face is inches away from hers. He feels her warm breath on his lips and his eyes shutter closed on their own accord. They stay like this for a timeless while. It feels like hours and seconds, weeks and months. Moments and eternity.

He opens his eyes and meets Granger's own dilated pupils. A primal instinct urges him to lean in even closer and discover whether her lips are as rich in taste and texture as they seem, but a flash from his wand signals the end of his shift.

And with that, she turns her head to the side and he rises up in a single, fluid motion that propels him out of the door and straight into the arms of something either of them will refuse to name.

If you like this, I welcome you to read "Crushed, Yet Unbroken" - a sequel to this story. Reviews are golden.

Hugs and butterfly kisses,

DreamALittleBigger.