A/N: This story will be comprised of a series of drabbles of varying length.
~*~
1: Arriving
Shacklebolt and, as Hermione later learned, Auror Healey, had, no sooner after they arrived at the safe-house, portkeyed back out without so much as a 'goodbye' or 'good luck' or a 'you'll be safe'.
Indeed, she felt like she had been unceremoniously dumped on the living room floor, left to deal with a rather complicated situation.
"You," a voice breathed from behind her.
Startled, she turned around, and was faced with a pale, pointed face that belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy. There was a pregnant pause.
"Granger?" His said, hoarsely, disbelievingly. His eyes narrowed down to ice-blue slits.
"Malfoy," Hermione finally replied, picking herself up off the floor dusting off her jeans.
"They did not say that it would be you that was coming," Malfoy said furiously, indicating at the crumpled bit of parchment he held in his left hand. "This cannot be happening! I cannot deal with spending weeks or even months trapped in this hell hole with you, you insufferable, ill-mannered, know-it-all Gryffindor."
It was nothing she'd not heard coming from his mouth before, in fact, she generally heard much worse coming from Malfoy. However, her rushed depature had left her rather more irritable than usual and she felt her temper rising.
"Believe me, Malfoy, if I had any other option whatsoever I'd take it, in less than a second," she shot back. "You know that I had no say in the matter, and you know that I'm stuck here for as long as it takes! So stop complaining about it—not only will it do you, or me, absolutely no good, but you're already getting on my nerves!"
Angrily she spun on her heel and stalked out the door behind her, slamming it shut as she passed through.
~*~
Thanks so far for your kind reviews. I will take your suggestions on board but the story will go the way I think seems natural. And Thorn, there is nothing wrong with a nice Dramione fic. ;)