AN: Not really angsty, despite the title. As always, characters do not belong to me.
She screamed again as the remnants of her clothes were cut away, the knife grazing her skin as well as the cloth. Suspended in mid-air, in the centre of a circle of Death Eaters, there was absolutely nothing she could do. She was going to be tortured, most likely raped, and then probably killed at the end of it. Well, if they thought she was going to spill all the Order's secrets, they were mistaken. After all, Hermione Granger wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.
"Crucio." A cold, harsh voice. One that she didn't recognise. That wasn't surprising, though. Voldemort had far more followers now that the last time she'd faced a group of Death Eaters.
"Draco Malfoy." Voldemort called his name, and a tall figure in black robes, but without the hood, stepped forwards.
"To join us, Draco, you must complete the initiation. You already know what to do."
He bowed, something that sickened Hermione. Back at Hogwarts, Malfoy believed himself superior to everyone. And now he was bowing to a halfblood.
Pointing his wand at her, she found herself suddenly bound at the wrists and ankles. She screamed again, and lashed out as he approached.
"Shut up, Granger."
She was certain no-one else could hear him, his voice was so quiet. She did, however, fall silent, and settled for glaring instead.
"My Lord." He turned to face Voldemort again. "Would it be possible to do this somewhere more… private? I will, of course, return the body."
"Certainly."
Grasping her wrist, he apparated. She'd never liked side-along apparition, but in her current state, she barely even noticed. It was only when he cut the ropes binding her, and began hunting for some clean clothes, that she realised she'd just been rescued.
"Bathroom's that way, if you want to wash. And I suggest you do, you're filthy."
She couldn't deny that, and she desperately wanted a bath.
"Malfoy, why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you get me out of there?"
"You may hate me, Granger, and I may hate you, but you're the best hope this lousy world has of destroying Voldemort. Don't give me all that rubbish about Potter, I know that already. But he couldn't come up with a plan if it bit him on the backside."
"But… I thought…"
He sat on the edge of the bath as she stepped into the hot water.
"That I'm an evil git who's destined to follow my father? So do most people, which is how I managed to get you out of there." He paused. "I will have to return a body that looks like you though. Otherwise I'm a dead man. And I don't plan on dying yet."
"I'm sure we can think of something."
"I'll leave you to get clean."
The door swung shut behind him, and Hermione began to relax. For some reason, Malfoy had saved her from the Death Eaters. All she had to do now was get back to Grimmauld Place. Which, she realised, would be almost impossible without her wand. One of the Death Eaters had snapped it, laughing that a mudblood didn't deserve one. She scowled as she pictured it in her mind. Maybe it was childish to want revenge, but that's how she felt. She'd get it, as well.
By the time she wandered out of the bathroom, wrapped in a huge, fluffy towel, Malfoy had found some clothes and food.
"Best I could do, I'm afraid."
So the clothes were his, and they were a bit big, but that didn't matter. Food was food, and it had been ages since she'd eaten. She couldn't help eyeing it suspiciously though – what if he'd poisoned it.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Granger, eat."
Well, he was eating, so it should be fine, she decided.
"If we transfigure something to look like your body, that should be good enough. They won't look too closely."
"You'll have to do it, Malfoy. I don't have a wand any more."
"Sorry about that – I couldn't do anything then."
"I guess I'll have to find a new one."
Between them, they managed the transfiguration fairly easily.
"Wait here. I'll be back as soon as I can. Send Potter a message by floo, tell him you're ok."
It wasn't safe to make a floo call in the normal way any more, not with the Ministry keeping a careful watch. She had to write a letter and send it through.
The reply, when it came back, was furious. He vowed revenge on the Death Eaters, on Voldemort, on just about everyone. She'd never seen him so angry – not when McGonagall confiscated his firebolt, not even when Sirius died.
…………………
Six months later.
Hermione sat, nursing a glass of firewhisky, watching her friends dancing on tables, singing incredibly rude songs and getting steadily more drunk as the evening progressed. She should have been up there with them – she'd been the one to destroy most of Voldemort's inner circle, after all. But somehow, it didn't feel right. Nothing had felt right since the day she'd almost been killed.
"Mind if I join you?"
She glanced up, to see who had spoken.
"Sure."
"Can I ask why you're not celebrating like the rest of them?"
"Wild parties were never my thing, Malfoy. But I could ask you the same question."
"Because wobbling about on a table, singing… no, attempting to sing, what I believe is a muggle song, is not my idea of fun. What is this song meant to be, Granger?"
She had to listen carefully to make out the words – Ron and Harry were so drunk that everything was slurred.
" 'We are the Champions'. You must know it, Malfoy, it's famous."
He raised one eyebrow. "Perhaps you're forgetting, Granger. I wasn't brought up by muggle-lovers."
"No, you weren't."
"Actually, I wanted to thank you."
"Whatever for?"
"You're the one who Avada'd my father. Thank you."
There was an awkward pause, as Hermione didn't know how to respond to such an unusual statement. In the end, Malfoy decided to take pity on her.
"Want to go somewhere else, and leave this lot to it?"
"Please."
No-one even noticed them leaving.
…………………
They struck up an uneasy sort of friendship after that night, meeting regularly for lunch or to see a film. On Hermione's birthday, he sent an enormous bouquet of flowers to her office at the Ministry. All her colleagues were wondering who sent it, and found it infuriating that she wouldn't give them a name.
"He's just a friend."
"What friend sends flowers like that, Hermione? You might think he's just a friend, but trust me, he wants more."
"Stop being ridiculous."
Even if that's what Malfoy wanted, he wasn't going to get it. She just wasn't interested in having a relationship. With anyone.
When he turned up at the end of the day, declaring he was taking her out for a meal whether she liked it or not, everyone else in the office started sighing and swooning.
"You know how to pick them, Mione."
Hermione, who had just been about to walk out of the door, swung round angrily.
"Don't call me Mione!"
Malfoy just laughed. "I see you still haven't lost that temper."
"Did you think I would have?"
"Not really."
The evening passed surprisingly quickly, and she actually found herself relaxing in Malfoy's presence. Actually, it was the first time she hadn't been on edge for ages, even around Harry and Ron. Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was because he had absolutely no interest in her as anything but a friend. He'd still got his arrogant pureblood attitude about that, if nothing else.
"Hermione?"
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was miles away."
"So I'd noticed. I asked if you wanted to dance."
Dancing. That meant standing close to someone male. Something Hermione wasn't particularly keen on, after her near escape. Still, Draco Malfoy had rescued her – he wouldn't dare try anything. She had a new wand now, and could defend herself, as he was well aware.
She needn't have worried. He behaved perfectly throughout the dance, and the one after, and the one after that. By the time they left, she was almost beginning to feel comfortable in her own body again. She shivered though, when he kissed her on the cheek, and stepped back slightly.
"Sorry, Draco. I just…"
"It's fine. I understand."
He turned away, and either didn't hear or decided to ignore her when she called after him.
The next day, she marched into his office, locking the door so he couldn't walk off again.
"I'm sorry about last night, but you of all people should know what I'm like when it comes to physical contact. It was just… too close for comfort."
He took a deep breath, and managed to blurt out something resembling an apology, something he'd never been good at.
"You don't know what you do to me, Hermione. I'm trying to be considerate, really, I am, but it's driving me insane, being that close and not touching."
"I… I didn't know…"
"I tried to make sure you didn't."
There was an uncomfortable silence, as Draco regretted his confession and Hermione tried to work out what to say.
"If you don't mind taking things really slowly, we could… give it a try."
"I'm willing to wait for you, Hermione. As long as you need."
AN: See, told you it wasn't really angsty. The blue button needs to be clicked now...