Hermione woke up wrapped in Draco's arms, and though she felt immediately repulsed at her enemy touching her in such an intimate way, she didn't move. It was really really cold and the quilt did nothing to help that. The two were still facing each other, and the towel was no longer being pressed on Hermione's arm, but her arm looked just as bad as it had when she had first woken up yesterday. She looked to see if Malfoy was awake - and therefore voluntarily holding her like this - and was astonished to see that he was.
"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed at him.
"You were shivering like crazy and I couldn't sleep!" Malfoy hissed right back.
"Well I'm awake now, so let me go!" Hermione said, her voice a little louder than necessary at how close they were.
"Gladly," Malfoy muttered and immediately released his hold on her. She almost regretted it, because it was so very cold.
"It must be snowing outside if it's this cold!" she exclaimed, sitting up on the bed. Malfoy sat up, too, and gave the quilt to her. She was about to protest when he grabbed their 'pillow' and unfolded it to wrap himself in it.
"It is," was his short answer. He hopped off the bed and grabbed his wand. "I need to clean your arm."
Hermione held it out gratefully, because her arm was disgusting. "Scourgify." Hermione's arm was now clean, but this only revealed that the cuts still looked fresh on her arm.
Mudblood.
No matter what happened, if it healed or not, that would be on her arm her whole life through. Tears pricked in her eyes at this thought. She was marked like…like cattle with a cattle prod!
Tears slipped silently down Hermione's face, and Draco didn't notice until he was done with his healing spells.
"Come on, Granger. Stop being such a sissy," Malfoy sneered at her.
"You insensitive prat!" Hermione snapped. "I'm in the middle of nowhere, I don't know where my friends are, my parents don't know I exist and are having the time of their lives in Australia, You-Know-Who is rising to power, and to top it all off I was tortured two days ago by your aunt in your house!"
"It's not a house, it's a manor," Malfoy corrected. Hermione made a sound of frustration at this.
"That's all you have to say! Why don't you make yourself useful and get some food!" Hermione shouted.
"Can't," Malfoy said. He didn't seemed very pleased that he couldn't, either.
"And. Why. Not?" the question escaped between her clenched teeth.
"You might start bleeding soon, and as I've explained before, my saving you would become quite redundant if you bled to death on my watch,"
"I suppose that is a decent reason," Hermione admitted angrily.
Malfoy reached in his back pocket and brought out a key. He reached over to one of the metal rods on the end of the bed, the one with that connected her to the bed with a heavy chain, and unlocked it. Then he put the cuff on himself so that Malfoy and Hermione were chained together.
"Can't take any chances," Malfoy said disdainfully.
"Why even unlock me from the bed if I have to be chained to you," Hermione grumbled. "I'd much rather the bed."
Malfoy didn't mention it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that if he left the room, she'd start bleeding again. Every time he had left the room he had come back and her arm would be oozing the offensive red liquid. His aunt was a clever woman, and though she might never have imagined Malfoy rescuing Granger, she was definitely wary of Harry Potter and his friends. They had escaped things far worse before, and this time she wanted to make sure that she instilled some kind of suffering to whomever rescued Hermione Granger. Of course, this was just a precaution. Bellatrix had never truly counted on the rescue of the girl. Of this, Malfoy was certain.
"Where are my shoes, Malfoy? The floor will be freezing," Hermione asked.
"We aren't getting up. The reason it's so cold in here is because there is no front door, only a thick rug that I hung."
"Malfoy, you never cease to amaze me! There are millions of places you could have chosen to hide out, and you chose Scotland, in the middle of winter, in a shack with no door?" Hermione said unbelievingly.
"I could have chosen a dungeon, locked you up there, and left for…Australia! Or I could have just left you at the Manor to die in the first place!" Malfoy shouted, angry at her denunciation of him.
"Don't mock my parents," Hermione said quietly.
"What? Have you gone nutters, Granger? I didn't say a word about your parents!" Malfoy exclaimed.
"Just…don't," Hermione said, effectively killing the argument.
It was silent for a while. It wasn't the kind of uncomfortable silence you can have with someone you just met but having nothing to say to, but the kind of uncomfortable silence that you have with someone you know and hate. They both sat wrapped in the old, stained quilts that were fraying slightly at the edges. They were both trying very hard not to shiver, because neither wanted to show weakness to the other. Both were holding back their hunger in an attempt to see the other break first and ask for food. However, Hermione could not hold back the rumbling of her stomach after so long without food.
Malfoy shifted his position so his feet were hanging off of the bed and pulled on his shoes. He then stood up. "Get on."
"What?" Hermione asked, completely confused.
"Get on my back, Granger," Malfoy repeated himself.
"But - " Hermione started to protest, but Malfoy cut her off.
"Just do it," Malfoy commanded, and his tone was so threatening that she shed her blanket and got on her enemies back with no more questions asked. As soon as her blanket left her, she regretted it. She held on more tightly to Malfoy, hoping he wouldn't notice. His body was warm, and so she pressed herself to him and tried very hard not to shiver.
Malfoy walked forward and opened the bedroom door. To the left was a giant rug hung on three nails, covering what she was sure to be the door. There were was a counter on the right side of the room, and a decrepit, small dining table in the center. Above the counter were a couple of cabinets. There was even a sink, that apparently had running water judging by her small dinner last night. Malfoy carried her to the cabinet.
"What do you want?" he asked, opening the cabinet. It was full of cans of all sizes. There wasn't a way to cook any of this, so she looked for things she could stand to eat cold. Finally she grabbed a can of French cut green beans. "That all?"
"Yeah," Hermione answered. "I want bread, too."
Malfoy grabbed a can for himself and opened a different cabinet and grabbed a hunk of bread, twice the size of the one Hermione had eaten last night. While unwrapping and wrapping the bread he had to use his hands, so he wasn't holding Hermione up. This meant that she had to wrap her legs around him, and tried to ignore the curious thing she found happening on the front of his torso.
Malfoy was trying to ignore that very same fact, along with Hermione's soft body pressed so close to him. This past year he had not been with a single girl, due to his duties to the Dark Lord. His body could not help reacting to Hermione's body clinging so close to his - even though she was the single most annoying know-it-all bookworm he had ever had the displeasure to meet.
He hurried up and carried her back into the room and set her down quickly. He hurriedly pulled a quilt around her, and another around him, separating them. Malfoy couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief at this.
After Malfoy opened the cans they both devoured their food, Hermione even going so far as to soak up the cold bean juice with her stale bread. Oddly, throughout their meal there was a slightly comfortable silence. Hermione could not help but notice this, and wondered what had caused the relaxation of the uncomfortable side of it all. After all, the excursion to the kitchen had been one of the most uncomfortable couple of minutes of her entire life.