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Malfoy appeared in front of the familiar iron gates that guarded the main entrance to his mansion. He found Hermione Granger intact and still unconscious by his side. With the remnant of a sneer still on his face, he let the Mudblood's wrist drop from his clutch. As he went to levitate the unconscious body, he noticed that he had let her uncaringly land on a few spare rocks; there was now a trail of gleaming blood down her temple. Ignoring the harm he had caused, he continued up the gravel drive, wondering what he could possibly do with such an accidental find.

It was two days after Malfoy had come across the unconscious body of one of his most despised nemeses. He was staring down at her with utter wonder and curiosity. He was sure that she was still unconscious. It was two days after she'd had an accident of some sort, and she hadn't woken at all.

Bending down, he crouched by her head. He craned his neck and pushed the hair off her face with the tip of his wand. Her eyes didn't move, nor did her nose or mouth twitch. He thought of ways to check she was alive, but didn't want to have to touch her. 'What could possibly happen if I touched her skin?' he wondered. "Nothing," he answered himself.

His hand rested lazily over his knee, and then slowly and nervously it travelled down to Hermione's wrist. His fingers stretched out and lightly touched her cold skin. He took a sharp intake of breath. Although it took a moment, he eventually found a pulse; it was weak, barely there. He couldn't understand why she hadn't gained consciousness yet; it was bizarre. His finger twitched awkwardly as he removed his hand.

Trailing to the door, he took a quick double take as he thought he saw a glimmer of movement behind him. Perhaps it was the gleaming fire brackets playing tricks…

Malfoy sat up abruptly. He was drenched in cold sweat from head to toe; his head was throbbing and heart racing. His mind was swimming with visions, ideas, assumptions and thoughts about Azkaban and his parents. He had no clue as to what Azkaban looked like, as he'd never set foot there, however he could see it so clearly. 'It was just a dream,' he told himself. His parent's imprisonment in Azkaban had taken a toll on Malfoy. They were being held there until their sentencing in two weeks. The house was completely and utterly lonely; if it were not for the ancestors in the pictures on the wall, the house elf and the lone prisoner…Malfoy would go insane.

It was so hard for Malfoy to stray where he liked these days. He was frowned upon in public; his family name had been maligned. He had often taken to wearing a hooded robe and spending late nights at the Hog's Head. There was never a large crowd during the late hours of the night, usually just an old hag or few travellers from far corners of the world. He didn't need a large party to satisfy his need for company. A good Firewhiskey and the barman sufficed.

Climbing out of his colossal bed, he stripped off his pyjama pants and levitated a pair of trousers from his dresser. He lit his wand, and then threw on an old shirt and his robes. "Hattie," he called. Silence. "Hattie?" he called again. There was a crack. A house elf much the same as her predecessor, Dobby, had appeared. She had large green, tennis-ball sized eyes and a long thin nose; however, unlike Dobby, she had long, black straggly hair that cascaded all the way to the floor. She yawned unashamedly and scratched her stomach through a hole in her raggedy pillowcase.

"Hattie, go light the brackets in the cellar," Malfoy ordered.

"Yes, Master," she squeaked, and with another yawn and a crack was gone.

Once Malfoy had descended down to the cellar, he found the fire brackets expelling a vivid glow. The cold descent down the hall still made him shiver as much as last time; the hairs on the nape of his neck were erect. The thought of being so lonesome in such a large mansion made his muscles tighten and jaw clench in fear. He thought that perhaps visiting Granger would enforce the concept that he wasn't entirely alone, and it would definitely distract him from the tiresome dreams.

The cellar door creaked open, and Malfoy's wand light filled the dark space ahead. The brackets on the walls were lit; however, the light wasn't nearly enough to see the body lying in the centre. This time he moved more readily, and then paused before standing over her body.

"Granger?" he said loudly. Silence.

He looked behind himself conspicuously, as though someone might see him taking interest in the company of Hermione Granger.

"Granger?" he said even louder, nudging her with his foot.

He sat by her head and peered down for a moment, almost wishing he could speak to her. Dread flooded Malfoy as he thought that perhaps he was speaking and sitting with a dead body. Extending his hand, he touched Hermione's wrist once again. Her pulse was stronger. Just as his fear receded, it returned as Hermione's hand fiercely captured his wrist. Launching herself backwards, she toppled onto Malfoy, his wand flew from his fingers, and Hermione snatched it up. Heart hammering and mind racing, Malfoy began to squirm with panic.

"Why am I in your cellar, Malfoy?" asked Hermione severely. Her hair was cascading over his face, and all he could see were her dark brown eyes, levelled at him with a ferocious stare. Malfoy stopped restlessly moving and continued to watch Hermione's stern gaze. Their position was rather uncomfortable for Malfoy; his thighs were pinned by her knees, one hand trapped under his back and the other being held forcefully.

"Get off of me, Granger."

"Why am I here?" she said more forcefully, pushing her weight down.

Pushing violently, Malfoy threw Hermione with all the might he could manage. Dropping back, she fell harshly on her behind and let out a moan of pain. Malfoy stood, smirking with triumph as Hermione swore loudly. Tears were swelling in her eyes, and Malfoy couldn't help but not care. "Give me my wand," he ordered.

Muffling a sob she bowed her head, and then threw the wand viciously at Malfoy's chest. Lifting herself unsteadily, she moved gingerly to the door. "I'm leaving." She'd made it to the end of the hall before she realised she still lacked her own wand. Turning on the spot, she stared at the lone figure standing in the distant doorway. His blonde hair glimmered in the soft firelight, and for once the emotion gracing his face wasn't utter repulsion, or superiority; he looked rather soft, vacant.

"Where's my wand, Malfoy?"

He took his time, eventually deciding to walk the long stretch of hallway before answering. "You know, I'm home all alone, Granger."

Hermione stared at Malfoy as he continued to walk past. "Is that supposed to scare me?" she asked. "Or perhaps even excitement me?"

Malfoy stopped walking and turned his head in a haughty manner. "Don't flatter yourself, Granger."

"Look," pleaded Hermione, "just give me my wand. I need to leave."

"Why do you need to leave?"

Although Hermione thought it was a peculiar question to come from Draco Malfoy, she humoured him, continuing to provide conversation, hoping that it would eventually lead to her wand. "I need to get home, to Ron," she told him.

"And why would you want to get back to Weasley?"

Truthfully, Hermione didn't have a clue. Did she want to see Ron? The last time she spoke to him it didn't end too well. Eventually she decided that she missed Ron's warm hugs, and followed Malfoy at a faster pace.

"Aren't you even interested in how you came to be here?" questioned Malfoy. "The Hogwarts know-it-all hasn't even asked the most obvious question yet."

They had reached a large landing that overlooked the house foyer. Malfoy pointed his wand at a silver serpent-head doorknob attached to a vast double-door and it swung open with a bang. Hermione was greeted with the most majestic bedroom she'd ever laid eyes on. The whole of The Burrow could have fit inside. The walls were covered in emerald green patterned wallpaper that played tricks on the eyes as the moonlight danced through the window. The main attraction was a large, dark-oak bed with a grand canopy. It was draped in sheets of green and silver silk. Although the bed was unmade, it still looked remarkably regal. Hermione thought the evident theme of Slytherin colours accessorising the house was rather unnerving. It woke her up to the fact that she was in the company of Draco Malfoy - at his residence.

Finally taking Malfoy's last words into consideration, she spoke her thoughts aloud. "How did I get here?"

Malfoy snatched up her wand from his bedside table and threw it lazily at Hermione. "I found you near Knockturn Alley two days ago, unconscious."

"Two days ago!" blurted Hermione. "I have to leave!"

"Go on then." Malfoy threw his shoes off and sat on his bed. Hermione went to swivel on the spot, but was stopped when Malfoy rudely interrupted her. "You can't Disapparate in here, Mudblood. You'll have to walk beyond the gates."

Hermione peered out of the window at the large iron gates and tutted loudly. They were rather far away. Spinning on her heel once more, she headed out the door. "Goodbye, Malfoy." And without bothering to look behind, she persevered down the stairs.

"You won't be able to get out," he called from the landing. "There's Muggle enchantments on the gate."

"I'm a witch," she said heatedly.

"Ah, but you're a Mudblood."

Hermione stopped walking. She stared acidly at the blonde boy smirking from above. She despised him, despised his look, walk, talk and attitude. She particularly hated his smug smirk and his pathetic air of supremacy. Despite all this revolt, she needed him to escape his presence. "Then walk me out," she ordered, continuing down the stairs. But when she didn't hear any footsteps behind, she turned once more. Malfoy was gone.

It took more time to walk up the stairs than it did to walk down; by the time Hermione reached the bedroom once more, it was locked. "Malfoy!" she yelled through the door. When there was no answer she began shooting spells at the serpent-head door handle; however, the door seemed to remain shut. "Malfoy, this is not funny."

The door opened slightly and Malfoy's face poked through. His nose was crinkled in malice and eyes levelled into a glare. "I'm not walking you anywhere, Granger. Feel free to walk yourself out and be stunned to death. I'll dispose of your corpse in the morning." And he closed the door.

Hermione didn't bother using her wand this time, she bashed furiously on the door. "I need to leave!"

"You can leave in the morning," she heard through the door. "Sleep on the landing. I'm sure it's a little softer than the cellar ground."

Hermione gripped her wand with fury and kicked the door, causing only more unwanted pain. Sending a blast of fire from the end of her wand seemed to do nothing at all, not even blacken the wood. "You're keeping me prisoner!" she yelled, but there was no answer. Looking around, Hermione peered at the landing. As if she'd sleep on the floor once again. It was barbaric and preposterous.

She spent an long time searching the eerie house for Floo powder and a fireplace; however, she had decided to retreat upstairs to the dingy bedroom next to Malfoy's when she heard a creepy scurrying behind the antique furniture...

Malfoy lay in bed, smugly smiling to himself. It was an ingenious idea, he thought. The smartest witch in Hogwarts was in his possession, and he had several deeds to be done. The Mudblood would come in handy. And the company wouldn't be all too bad…

Hermione didn't sleep for even five hours; it was the early hours of the morning when she woke to see the sun peering through the tattered silk-green curtains. She felt utter relief at the fact that she'd see Ron today. She missed him a lot, considering she'd only been conscious for a few hours.

Knocking loudly on Malfoy's door she called out, "I want to leave, Malfoy." No answer. "Get off your arse, Malfoy, and open the door!" She banged loudly. Nobody could ignore banging that thunderous. When silence prevailed, she returned to the room beside Malfoy's and with all her energy and might shouted, "EXPULSO!"