A/N: I don't have any claim to Harry Potter or Les Miserables- whose song titles are becoming my chapter titles... just sort of happened.

This is my first fan fic, so please review (constructively)!

She was shocked to see Malfoy, but immediately felt a small measure of relief, he was probably the Death Eater least likely to torture her on the spot. Humiliate her? Yes. Torture her? Eh, maybe not.

"Granger." He said mildly by way of greeting when he saw she was awake. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Her shocked deepened when she took in his attire, he appeared to be dressed in black linen pajama trousers and a black v-neck t shirt. Remembering that the sun wasn't up yet, perhaps it wasn't so surprising he was dressed in nightclothes. She also noticed he was barefooted, which made her uncomfortable on top of her fear… something about seeing someone in their pajamas and bare feet was so intimate.

"Malfoy" she tried to reply in the same bored tone, but her voice sounded as though she'd aged fifty years and smoked fifty years' worth of muggle cigarettes overnight. She winced as her throat worked to say those two simple syllables. It burned. It occurred to her that she probably screamed her throat raw while Bellatrix…. Ugh, she couldn't think about it. She turned her attention back to Malfoy who was watching her. She thought about sitting up again so she wouldn't feel so vulnerable or appear weak, but didn't think she had the strength or energy to combat the pain. Her head was throbbing, she could feel her heartbeat inside her skull, and each time she inhaled the left side of her back hurt just a little bit worse. Maybe a broken rib or two?

After a moment's contemplation Malfoy moved into the room and took one of the arm chairs across from her sofa. "How badly are you hurt?" he asked in a quiet voice with a look she'd never seen before. She paused before answering trying to decipher his expression and mood, and trying to determine how to answer. Would he mock her and tell her she deserved every bit of pain his aunt had given her for being a mudblood? Would he report her injuries to Bellatrix or other Death Eaters so they would know what her weaknesses were? Really, did it matter? She had no wand; she had no way of fighting back. But then she remembered Draco refusing to positively identify them last night… what had his purpose been? A moment of humanity out of Draco Malfoy? She supposed stranger things had happened.

"I don't know," she finally replied, deciding to be honest. "I've barely tried to move, but when I have it's been quite unpleasant." He looked at her another moment and replied

"Unpleasant? You're the queen of understatement. My aunt tortured you for nearly an hour last night." He continued after a moment's hesitation, "I mended cuts on your arms and one on your face…another on your throat, a broken pinky finger- I believe she stomped on it- and a busted lip. Those were all the visible wounds that I could see." He took a breath and turned his gaze from his feet to her face, "I also performed a charm that would heal any internal damage to your organs." He watched her eyes widen as he listed her injuries and the measures he'd taken to heal her. Why would he do that? "She kicked you, like one would a dog," He replied quietly, as much to himself as to her. "Repeatedly, in the stomach. But if you have any other injuries, I wasn't able to heal them."
She lay there unable to respond. She just stared into his blue, almost silver, eyes and could not for the life of her figure out why he would have healed her. The comment comparing her to a dog was much more along the lines of what she expected from him. Several moments passed when his impatience show and he roughly asked "Well Granger? Where the hell else are you hurt?"

"A rib, at least one. On my left side. My left hip and my head and neck are also quite painful." She gasped out in a hurried whisper, why did he care?

Malfoy stood and stepped forward until he towered over her. He raised his wand and ignoring her flinch of fear, moved it over her hip with an intense look on his face. Suddenly her hip warmed and she squeezed her eyes tight as the sensation grew until it was uncomfortably hot. Was he hurting her on purpose? Apparently he was quite good at nonverbal spells, because he said nothing so she was in the dark about what he was actually doing to her. Just as the pain got to the point she was about to beg him to stop, it eased.

"Better?" He asked bluntly. She moved her leg wearily and yes, it was. She gave a slight nod, still unsure and suspicious of him. "Can you point to which ribs are broken?" He asked in the same quiet tone. Had someone who cared taken Polyjuice potion to look like Malfoy? He was usually like the Grinch in the Muggle children's story, his heart was 2 sizes too small. Where had this concern come from? She nodded and tried to shift her position to roll over to give him access to her bruised or broken rib, but gasped and clutched for his arm in a reflex action. She froze and waited for the pain to lessen as it did she realized that she had grabbed onto him and quickly let go, her eyes shooting up to his, waiting for some look of disgust, for him to wipe his hand off and make some remark about contaminating him with her dirty mudblood hand. To her shock he did none of those things. Instead he slowly sat on the cushion next to her.
"How about I point and you tell me when I'm in the right area," he held his wand up at her waist and slowly moved toward her shoulder on the side she had mentioned. He looked into her eyes, waiting for her to nod to let him know where the break was. She was having trouble concentrating; he had never really looked her in the eye before, certainly never without a smirk or hatred on his pale face. She noticed that his face was gaunt, even more so than last year at Hogwarts. There were dark circles under his eyes and his collarbones were very prominent. Merlin, it looked as though he hadn't eaten well in months. As his hand approached her aching rib she nodded. He raised an eyebrow as though to confirm the location and she nodded again. She watched his face gain intensity as his magic stirred, it became more chiseled and his eyes darkened. Before the pain of healing distracted her, Hermione was hit by a shocking realization: Draco Malfoy was actually good looking.

They sat still a moment as she caught her breath from the rib being healed, still contemplating the other. Suspicion, fear, and perhaps a little wonder in her eyes, and his completely unreadable, but without a trace of the smirk that usually marred his features.

"That leaves your head and neck I believe?" He asked, she nodded again, still confused and worried about what his motives were. Why would Draco Malfoy take the time to heal the wounds of a mudblood? "Well I have a potion for your head, but I think your neck is probably just strained…"he paused, swallowed and continued quietly, "She had your head pulled back by your hair. I thought she was going to slit your throat right there." He opened his mouth to continue, but checked himself at the last moment. Instead he silently unstoppered a vial and passed it to her, she accepted it reluctantly. "Do you need help sitting up?" He asked after a moment, his tone still flat but lacking any malice.

"Oh… no, no I don't thi-" She tried to sit up but the pounding in her head increased exponentially.

"Here… just enough to drink the potion without drowning in it." Her shock reached its highest level yet as he took one of her hands in his and placed his other hand beneath her shoulders and every so gently eased her into a sitting position and held her there while she swallowed the potion, gratefully.
She lay back down after downing the contents of the vial, deciding if it were poison it would probably save her from a worse fate once Bellatrix found her again, plus Malfoy seemed to have no malicious intent…. Which was still bloody strange.

"Thank you," she croaked and slumped back to the pillows. "Malfoy… why are you doing this?" she asked slowly, unable to curb her curiosity.

"For a lot of reasons," he responded eventually and did not elaborate. "I'm going to get a house elf to bring me breakfast. Do you think you could eat something?" He asked changing the subject before she could ask him anything.

"Yes, I think so. My head is feeling better already" she responded.

"Anything in particular?" he asked. Will wonders never cease? Draco freaking Malfoy had asked her what she wanted for breakfast. She was here against her will, held captive after being tortured half to death and he wanted to take her breakfast order?

"Um, no. I haven't had a decent meal in so long I'll be happy with anything," she replied honestly. When was the last time she'd had a full meal? It had been a long time since they'd ventured close enough to civilization to sneak into a muggle store or house for food.

"That's what I figured; you're skin and bones, Granger. You were light as a feather when I carried you in here last night." With that he turned and walked through the door, leaving it ajar.
Wait. Malfoy carried her in here? He put her into bed and covered her up? She wiggled her toes; he'd even taken her shoes off. She already knew he'd healed her some during the night… she glanced at her arm and her eyes widened in shock as she saw the number of thin white scars there, but there was no blood on her clothing or the blankets. Had he cleaned her up also? This was madness. She was in some parallel universe where Malfoy was nice and maybe the sky was pink, there were two suns and Dumbledore was a moron. Who carries a captive up to bed and tucks them in? She heard Malfoy speak to someone in the next room but couldn't make out the words. He came back in bearing a tray laden with enough food to feed even Ron.

"Alright, Granger. I don't know what you like so I just had Trixie bring double my usual order. I instructed her not to tell anyone. The last thing we need is for Bellatrix to find out I gave you breakfast." He said as he pulled a small table over between the chair and couch and sat the tray down. "Do you think you can sit up?" he asked, appraising her. She was still lying on her back, staring at him, mostly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I think so." This time she was more successful and slowly sat up, feeling no sharp pain, just the ache of abused muscles and stiff joints. She knew he was powerful and intelligent but apparently he knew his healing spells better than she did. Few wizards, especially young ones, bothered with them. Who'd have thought? "Do you think I could have some tea? My throat…" She began, but he was already pouring.

Draco watched her eat; every now and then she pressed a finger to her lower lip where Bellatrix had split it. He hadn't healed it very well apparently. Well not bloody surprising seeing as how he was using his mother's wand. Saint Potter had buggered off with his. Damn him. Now Draco was in the middle of a war and was having to ask to borrow his mummy's wand. As if his life wasn't humiliating and miserable enough. He watched as after a bite or two she began eating with an urgency he'd never seen from her. Usually it was Weaselbee that was disgusting at the table. But, instead of disgust he felt pity. He remembered how light she'd been and how he'd been able to feel all her ribs when he'd carried her into the room last night.

"Slow down, Granger. You'll toss it if you keep eating that fast. I'm not going to take it away before you finish, I promise." He tried to work up a sneer but it didn't come, instead his words came out quiet and gentle and he could see her face flush. Well maybe she'd think of her embarrassment instead of how uncharacteristically nice he was being. What was wrong with him? Merlin help him if he was developing a soft spot for Granger.

"You aren't eating." Hermione observed as she reached for her tea. She held his gaze, her eyes having finally cleared of pain. He didn't respond, he just reached for a plate and scooped some eggs and fruit onto it. They ate for a few moments in silence. He realized that this was the most pleasant meal he'd had in a while. He didn't have to listen to scheming or plotting or boastful talk of cruelty. Or deal with that damn snake slithering underneath his chair… he shivered at the thought.

"Malfoy…," Hermione began hesitantly, her eyes focused resolutely on her toast, "Will you tell me if Harry got away?" He studied her a moment, until she looked up at him, unable to stand the wait.

"Potter and the Weasel both Disapparated." He responded with no inflection. "They left you and buggered off." He watched her shoulders slump and her eyes flutter shut. Was that relief? Was she glad they left her? That made no sense. "You seem relieved. You're glad they left you bloodied and broken on the floor, surrounded by Death Eaters, with the Dark Lord at the door?" he demanded. Why this made him so angry he wasn't sure. He was shocked at Potter's actions though, he couldn't believe he had abandoned her and taken off. Didn't Potty love to play hero?

"I'm glad that they managed to get away, yes. Would I rather they hadn't left me? …I don't know. If leaving me was the only way they could get safely away then yes, I'm glad they did." She slowly ate a few more bites of her breakfast. "Will you tell me what happened? I don't really remember anything after she started…" she trailed off, apparently not wanting to say 'torturing me'.

"She wanted to know how you came to be in possession of the Sword of Gryffindor." He paused and studied her… he was quite curious about this as well. "You managed to convince her it was a fake." He watched as her face paled.

"Did… I… w-what happened to it?" She stammered. Some poker face, Granger, he thought to himself with a smirk. He couldn't fathom how Bellatrix had believed her. She wouldn't be worried about a fake Sword of Gryffindor.

"Well, it was chaos, but last I saw it the goblin had it and Potter took him along when he Disapparated." He watched her like a hawk. She maintained eye contact but she released the death grip she had on her fork, blood returning to her knuckles that had turned white.

"How did you get it?" He asked quietly. "It's supposed to be in her vault in Gringotts." She looked him dead in the eye and answered,

"How did we get a fake Sword of Gryffindor? I conjured it; you know I'm best in our year at charms. It was driving me barmy, just the three of us for so long. I did it to pass the time, took me days to get it right." He knew she was lying, well about the sword. He was sure she was bored with only Potter and Weasel-bee for company.

"Sure thing, Granger." He said, his smirk firmly back in place for the comment. "We'll leave it there for now. Well anyway, she went at you for… Merlin, it felt like hours, but you stuck to your story." In his mind's eye he could see her writhing on the floor and he could still hear her screams. Bellatrix went after her until she was too weak to respond. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away as he watched blood seep out of the slices made with Bellatrix's short knife. She just lay still and silent on the rug, her face completely white, barely breathing, eyes rolled back in her head. He could barely stomach it the night before and it wasn't any easier now. He'd had to resist the compulsion to throw himself bodily over top of her to stop Bellatrix. Why he felt so strongly he had no idea. He'd seen plenty of people tortured in that very room. He'd been forced to do some of it himself. But he couldn't believe that he had watched a member of his own family torture a half-starved, innocent, seventeen year old girl. He couldn't think of a word bad enough to describe his hatred at being related to such people. Well bollocks to that, as soon as he could think of a way he was out this mess.

He continued after a moment, "The goblin confirmed your story and told her it was a fake. Then… she summoned Him." He absently rubbed his left forearm as he stared into the cold fireplace, remembering. "Somehow Potter and Weasley found a way out of the cellar and burst into the room… Apparently they managed to kill Pettigrew and had his wand. It was madness… but Potter and Weasel managed to Disarm everyone in the room. He got away with a couple wands actually, including mine, the bastard." Still staring into space he missed Hermione's reaction to hearing that Harry had gotten away with a wand, her eyes closed for a moment as if saying a silent prayer. She opened them and watched his face as he continued. "But Bellatrix was determine to have the upper hand… she pulled your head up off the floor by our hair and put her knife to your throat." He paused to clear his throat and took a deep breath, trying to get the vision out of his mind. "Potter and Weasley were about to throw down their wands when our old house elf shows up and drops the bloody chandelier on Bellatrix… and on you as she was standing over you." He was utterly bewildered at Dobby's involvement, what he'd been doing there Draco didn't have the first clue. "Potter shouted something about the Dark Lord being at the gate, how he knew I've got no idea, but it was pandemonium. He shouted for you, I think. Potter. But you were too far gone to respond much less try to get yourself away. He shouted to Weasley that they were out of time… After he, Weasley, Dobby, and the goblin Disapparated everyone panicked. It didn't take us more than a second to realize that when the Dark Lord came in and saw that Potter had gotten away, again, we were done for. There was a mad scramble for the door; I grabbed you and Disapparated with you to my room. I got in just in time; as soon as I laid you down I could hear him screaming. Luckily he doesn't think very much of me, because he didn't think to call me back to the drawing room… my parents, Bellatrix, Greyback and all those moron snatchers are probably feeling worse than you are this morning. Well, he killed the snatchers, but my family survived… for better or worse I don't know. I don't think he remembered I existed, he was too furious to think straight, which I'm quite pleased about. Obviously." He looked over at her, and her face was ashen.

"So he… and Bellatrix… your parents, do they know I'm here?" she asked in a shocked, hoarse whisper.

"No. I don't think they do. What does he care about a mudblood anyway?" He watched her wince at the term, seriously, she should be used to that, hadn't he been calling her that for like six years now? "Well, he would care I suppose… you would make excellent bait for The Boy Who Lived."

"Are you going to tell them then?" She asked her fear moving towards anger. Apparently she didn't enjoy being at his mercy, he smirked at the thought but his face soon fell into a more thoughtful expression.

"No, Granger, I don't reckon I am." How could he turn her over to them? Not that he gave a single damn about her, of course not, but did she deserve Bellatrix's or the Dark Lord's wrath? No. No one really did. He felt a little shame at the way he'd thought and behaved as little as a year ago. What did these people think would happen if they wiped out all the muggleborns? There were very few purebloods that he wasn't related to; very few options for witches for him to marry; in another generation or two they'd run out of purebloods who weren't close relations. They needed to get over it and marry half bloods and perhaps even mudbloods just to sustain a population. Bloody idiots, the lot of them. Did they really have so little foresight? They'd been interbreeding for long enough as it was, it wouldn't take many more generations for them to start being born cross-eyed and Merlin knew what else. Plus, the more he'd though about it over the last year, the more he wondered what about coming from wizard parents made him any better than Granger coming from muggle parents. She was just as powerful, just as- if not more intelligent than he was. If she was pureblooded he'd offer for her in a heartbeat, despite her snooty ways. She wasn't trophy wife material, but if a wizard wanted intelligent children there wouldn't be a better choice. Too bad she wasn't better looking. He raised his head to study her. She was easily fifteen pounds underweight. Her skin marred with bruises and dark circles under her eyes, her ridiculous hair was as bushy as ever…well he assumed it would be once she let it out of her braid, her buck teeth were… wait. He looked at her mouth where she was biting her lip in thought and noticed that her teeth were straight and even. Huh. When had that happened? She felt his gaze and glanced up at him, warm brown eyes meeting his cool blue ones.

"Why?" She asked.

Why what? He wondered, having completely lost the conversation in his musings. "Why don't I turn you over to my evil aunt and the Dark Lord you mean?" he asked, she nodded. "Well…. For a lot of reasons" he echoed his earlier reply.

"I guess you aren't going to elaborate. Well then… what now?" she asked him.

"I haven't quite worked that out yet. I got home 2 days ago for Easter break so we've got almost 2 weeks before we have to get you out of here." It weirded him out that he kept saying 'we'. He didn't want to have a 'we' with Granger. He wanted to get away from her for a little while, he didn't like this softening he felt towards her. "I'm going to leave you for now, but let me show you something first." He came around to a bookshelf to the right of the window. "I've put an Undetectable Extension Charm on this space behind the shelf. To get back there you just pull out the copy of Frankenstein and-"

"You read muggle fiction?" Hermione cut him off, shocked.

"Occasionally. I have to say though, I'm not sure if I enjoyed this book. It's kind of depressing really… Frankenstein's monster is actually inherently good, compassionate even… Frankenstein turns him evil by rejecting him even when he does everything he can to better himself… he even learns to speak. But Frankenstein refuses to acknowledge him…." Draco trailed off, Hermione look at him aghast. "Anyway," he continued before she could side track him any further… he'd talked more to her this morning than he had to his family in the last year. It made him itchy. "Pull out the book and the book case will scoot away from the wall and reveal a small chamber behind it. No one knows it's there but me… and now you. Hopefully no one will come in, my mother knows I hate it if she lets herself into my room and my father never bothers to come down this wing anyway, but if you hear anything strange get back there as quick as you can and I'll get you when the coast is clear."

"Okay." She agreed quietly. "I'm actually exhausted… d'you think that I should sleep in there?" Draco thought about it for a moment.

"I think for today you'll be fine. Everyone else is recovering, too, so they'll be holed up in their chambers as well. This is my personal space; it's extremely unlikely that anyone will come in… I just wanted to show you that… in case." He started to go but turned back, thinking of how she'd been living lately. "Actually, Granger…. This sounds… strange. But if you'd like to have a bath you can. I have a private bathroom. I can shrink some of my clothes for you so you can have something clean to wear. I'd rather not have my couch smell like a homeless person to be honest." He hadn't really noticed any odor from her, but he had to add it because the rest of it made him feel like he was going soft. He watched the fire light in her eyes when he insulted her but then he saw as her thoughts shifted to how welcome a hot bath would be after living rough for so long and then being tortured last night. "Come on, I'll show you."