Hermione sat down on her small cot, and slumped against the wall, leaning her head into her hands. Draco was here… But why? Was he really going to court Pansy? Her tender, caring Draco wooing Pansy for marriage? The mere thought of the two together made her nauseous. Did he know that she was here? Of course not- she reprimanded herself- don't be silly. He didn't even know that you were going to the orphanage… Did he? What if he found out that she was here? The only way to help her would be to take her out of the Parkinson's care. Though, it would be of little use. She could leave in a week. One week, and she'll be free. It was better for now if he knew her as 'Missy', and not her real identity. Imagine how repulsed he'd be if he knew it was truly her.

In all of her dreams, Draco had recognized her instantaneously; sweeping her onto his noble steed and running off with her into the sunset. This Lord Malfoy was a different matter entirely. Earls didn't carry impecunious servants into a happily ever after. They merely sought after them to do their dull chores, and clean up after them. Somehow Hermione was going to have to push the image of Lord Malfoy into the dark depths of her head, and instead focus only on her Draco, or else her perfect dream would forever be tarnished.

The following night, Draco, Earl Malfoy was sitting at his assigned chair in the dining room. He almost sighed in hardly hid contempt as the ladies all left the Dining Room in the wake of Lady Parkinson. What in Hades had possessed him to accept this utterly dreary invitation? He absolutely loathed small gatherings like this- where all the characters acted in divine hypocrisy of each other. He must admit that he'd rather be at home playing chess with his half-brother, Vincent.

Across the table sat Goyle; re-enacting some sort of tale involving a lady's companion at another house party; his tediously drone voice causing Draco to grit his teeth. The only thing keeping him seated was his idea in which he needed to talk with Lord Parkinson, to ask of Ted Granger daughter. He had, in fact gone to the St. Peterson Orphanage, where he had been told that Miss Granger had been adopted by this particular family. It puzzled him fiercely though, for he had yet to see her.

"Oi, Malfoy, are yeh there old chap? You're being chased." said Mr. Thomson, from across the table.

Draco stared at him blankly for a moment, his rather dull gaze quite bored. He already knew that. Pansy Parkinson's lack of subtlety at dinner was rather ridiculous, as was her Mothers. Both women had no interest in hiding their true intentions towards him. He shuddered lightly at the simple thought of being alone with Pansy, and he had no doubt that if Lady Parkinson had anything to do with it he'd be marrying her daughter.

"My dear boy, all you've got to do now if drop your handkerchief."

Draco picked up his horrid brandy and took a large gulp; the atrocious substance causing him to repress a near shudder. Miss Pansy may be taken with him, but she sure as hell would not be taken by him. And he would be staying as far as way from her as humanly possible to cease any thoughts having to do with this exact subject.

"Of course, if marriage doesn't appeal to you, then you could always amuse yourself with Lavender Brown, or Astoria Greengrass. They certainly won't expect a proposal from you." Thompson went on, quite presumptuous and showing a great deal of percipience for a man in his inebriated state.

He held back a grimace, and shrugged noncommittally, for he did have a certain reputation. The fact was, if Draco had known that Miss Greengrass, and Miss Brown would be there, fluttering their heavily painted eyelashes at him, he would had seriously reconsidered his visit. With a scornful glower, he stood up; excusing himself quietly from Thompson. With a sigh, he sauntered towards Master Parkinson, leaning into the man's ear, to whisper.

"May I have a moment to talk with you; alone?" The earl asked; frowning when he saw the look of delight on the older man's face.

"Of course not, my dear boy." The man stood up, lightly leading him to his study, excitement obvious in his mannerisms. As he closes the door, Parkinson turns to Malfoy; grinning. "Some brandy?"

"No, I'm quite all right." Draco muttered, looking around the elaborate room. "I've come to discuss something with you."

The dark haired man sat behind his desk, an eyebrow rose eagerly. "So you do. Please, enlighten me."

With a sudden shock, Malfoy cursed himself. The man thought he was going to ask for Pansy's hand in marriage. Wrinkling his nose lightly; his features turned cold. "It has come to my understanding that you adopted a young girl a few years ago. I have come to ask about her whereabouts. I haven't seen Miss Granger anywhere."

Parkinson froze, his eyes widening as he stared at the young Earl. "Granger? Oh she... She... It was a terrible occurrence. Not long after we took her in, she passed on."

With a look of disgust, Malfoy stood up, brushing off his trousers before muttering, "Well, if you'd give me the information of where she went, I'll be on my way."

"You misunderstood me. She's no longer with us, as in..."

"She's dead?" Draco was suddenly pierced with guilt; why hadn't he thought to check up on her earlier? "Well, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to visit her grave..."

"I'm afraid it's unmarked. You see, we had no idea that the poor girl was so affected by her fathers' death. It wasn't long after she began to live with us, that she took her own life."

Cold horror laced with shock ran through Draco as he thought of the poor girl. The memory of another suicide filled his thoughts as he remembered the girl huddled on the ground, as if trying to get as close to her father as possible. Too little, too late. Draco stood to leave, before turning back to the man; a new image filling his mind. The small, brown-eyed servant that Goyle had been feeling up behind the staircase. Clearing his throat, he tried to calm his voice. "I was also wondering if you would have a word with your son. I found him to be forcing his attention on an unwilling servant girl."

"A servant? Well, which one?"

"I'm not sure. I just know that she seemed thoroughly distressed about it." The girls eyes haunted him, when she had looked up at him. They were dark and shadowed, full of a strange trust. He'd be damned if he couldn't at least help her.

The man chortled his laughter as he took a drink of his Brandy. "Ah, well it was just a maid. Goyle must have his fun somewhere, and I daresay, she must not have been that unwilling."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed menacingly as he hissed through clenched teeth, "I dare say she was most distraught about it. And I would have no trouble telling the same thing to anyone who asks. After all, you wouldn't want anyone coming to ask on Miss Grangers' death, would you?"

Surprisingly the man went pale and nodded quickly. "Of course. I'll have a word with Goyle... But I daresay, Malfoy, a maidservant... Honestly. She's nobody important."

With a growl of intense anger Draco left to his room; glaring savagely at the man. Is that what he said about Hermione, when she had passed? That she was nobody important so it was alright?

Hermione hummed softly as she folded another piece of laundry. Looking up at the clock she confirmed that she still had plenty of time. All of the others would still be out riding, so she would be perfectly safe to go into the garden when she was done. With a smile, she looked at her basket, picking up her second last piece of mending, and getting busy sewing it. As the door swung open, Hermione stopped her whistling immediately, freezing as she turned around.

A familiar figure closed the door speedily, and silently looked around wildly. If she hadn't been so surprised, Hermione would had laughed at the erratic movement of the man. She blinked, just as Lord Malfoy ducked behind the closet door; obviously hiding from something.

"My Lord?" Hermione stared at him; her eyes wide.

He glared at her from his hiding place; his dark eyes seeming to pierce through her as he gestured for her to be quiet.

"And your feet, My Lord? They are quite visible still." She whispered, lowering her voice as his eyes grew wide.

"Shit... Girl, toss that blanket here." As she did, she shook her head lightly, turning back to her work. Of course he has to hide in here, where she is... Just her luck.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door opened again, this time Lavender Brown stepping in. The woman was clad in a long, pale dress, and her hands were on her hips. Her coloured lips were twisted in scorn as she stared at the servant girl. With a small flick of her hair, she distastefully lifted her nose into the air. "Is his Lordship around, wench?"

Hermione couldn't help the frown that crossed her face. The lordship in question was visible in her peripheral view; quickly shaking his head. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, Lavender spoke again.

"I asked you a question. Are you stupid, or can you not talk, you fool? When I talk, you answer. Got it?" Her face was twisted with derision, and Hermione frowned further.

"Oh no. The Master went boatin' wiv' all the other quality. Down at the lake. Do you need summat mended? I can you wiv' that, mum." Hermione played down her voice; allowing for a slight uneducated troll into it, knowing it will infuriate the girl more.

"Not Master Parkinson, girl! Earl Malfoy" Lavender was at the end of her patience, and her hands were on her hips as she yelled.

"His lordship? What would he want wiv' the likes of me, in the broom closet, miss?" She blinked her eyes like a dazed deer; her hands still nimbly mending the cloth.

"Nothing, obviously. I don't see what anyone would ever want with the likes of you." With a huff, the girl left in a flurry of skirts, and Hermione let out a breath.

"Bitch." She murmured; forgetting that she was in the presence of an Earl.

"I quite agree." She spun around; meeting the gaze of her unwanted visitor, who was dusting off his clothes. Heat pooled over her face, and she ducked her head to her needlecraft, humiliated that she had forgotten his company in her irritation.

"She was wrong, you know." He added, walking up behind her. She was intensely aware of him as she worked, confused.

"Wrong? Wrong about what, My Lord?"

"Wrong that no one would ever want anything to do with you. For instance, that accent was truly marvellous." He grinned at her widely; transforming his face, so that it was clouded with boyish charm. "And I do owe you my thanks, by the way. You really did save me back there."

She nodded her acceptance, and lightly whispered. "You should leave, sir."

He frowned lightly, and bit down on his lip. "So soon?"

"Before anyone see's me. I'm not supposed to be... I'm not supposed to talk with guests. It's not my place, sir."

"Ah- but everyone is boating."

"Not the servants- the other servants. Some have no problem tattling." Hermione flushed lightly. Drat this man. He was grinning, and she couldn't help the impulse to want to smile back. Instead she forced a frown on her lips, blinking shyly. "Please sir- go."

His eyebrows pulled together slowly, before he frowned; gazing at her sombrely. "Why, Missy... You don't think that I'd ever act like... That I'd ever treat you like Goyle does? You're not frightened of me are you?" His voice was distressed, and she shook her head.

"Oh no! Of course not! You would never..."

"You seem pretty sure..." His eyes focused on her; feeling as if he could read her mind.

"I... Um, nothing about your reputation suggests that you would ever..." She mumbled; flustered from his constant gaze on her.

With a small nod, he accepted her explanation, and he gently lifted his hand to her face. Very tenderly he traced her jaw, until his thumb brushed against her bottom lip. Reflexively, her eyes closed; and his stroke sent shivers down her spine. Before she knew what happened, he had pulled away, and nodded to her; his eyes hooded.

"My thanks again, Missy." With that, he left Hermione alone in the room. Slowly she trailed over where he had touched her; only somewhat shocked that her skin wasn't actually hot from his touch. Drat that man, he was going to be the bereavement of her...

And Hermione found herself wondering if that would really be so bad...