Chapter 2: Chicken Soup

Draco sat in the living room, his fingers drumming against his leg impatiently. He glared at the chimney, waiting for his mother to stumble out with step-shit. "Mudblood!" He shouted, waiting for Granger to come down, but she didn't. She had been holed up wherever for who-knows-how-long, and no amount of shouting and searching had led him to her.

A sputtering from the chimney caused him to turn his head to the chimney. A few seconds later, his mother walked out, dressed in a mini-skirt and some sort of flowery shirt. It was repulsive how she tried to dress like she was his age.

Narcissa's eyes fell on Draco, and he continued glaring at her. He had changed out of his pajamas into the original slacks and green shirt, but "I'm home," She said, gesturing at herself. Draco remained silent. "I'm not dead," She continued, looking at Draco questioningly. "Oliver's not coming home. He called me a bitch then went to live with his mother. I give him a week." She continued looking at Draco, confused. "What's wrong?"

Draco waited a few moments before answering. His voice was surprisingly calm, considering he was furious. "I met the new housemaid today."

Narcissa nodded. "What do you think of her?"

Draco's façade snapped. "She's a Mudblood! She was one of my enemies at Hogwarts! She obviously doesn't want to be here, and I don't want her here!"

"Well, Draco. It sounds like all of those are personal. All I know is that she has a good experience cleaning things and that she'll have more of a tolerance to your attitude because of her experience at Hogwarts."

"I want her out and I want her out now!"

"Are you going to clean your room? Are you going to cook all of our food? Are you going to do anything besides sit on your ass all day? You're afraid to restart your life Draco, and until you leave this manor, you're going to live in the past."

"That doesn't have anything to do with the matter at hand!"

"Why don't we just talk to her and see how she feels about working here? If she wants to leave, then I'll let her. But if she doesn't, you're just going to have to deal with it."

Draco was positive that Granger would want to leave, so he smiled. "Bring it on."

Hermione sat in a ballroom, curled up in a ball, racing a set of open doors. Her purse sat next to her and Jane Eyre rested next to it. Hiding for seven hours was a perfect time to catch up on her reading.

She heard Malfoy calling for her earlier, but she hadn't budged. The ballroom had turned out to be an excellent hiding spot and she had remained hidden.

She wasn't exactly sure why she was hiding- it just felt like the instinctive thing to do. She continued staring at the open doors, not moving. Hardly breathing, actually.

"Hermione! Hermione Granger!" She suddenly heard echoing throughout the hallways. It was a female voice she recognized to be Narcissa Malfoy's. The voice continued getting closer until Narcissa's figure appeared in the doorway.

"There you are," Narcissa announced, gliding over to where Hermione sat.

"Here I am," Hermione muttered in response.

"I'm surprised Draco didn't find you hear, what with the door open and everything," Narcissa sitting down next to Hermione.

Hermione was surprised by the gesture. "Malfoy seems like the kind of person who overlooks the obvious."

Narcissa smiled warmly. "That's where you're right."

Hermione remained silent for a moment, pondering in thought. Narcissa seemed nice enough, and Hermione felt a strange respect for her. "Why'd you hire me, Mrs. Malfoy?" Hermione asked suddenly. "I'm a muggle-born, and it's well known that your family doesn't like us."

Narcissa waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I don't put up with that blood status crap. You either have magical blood, or you don't. End of story. I let Draco believe I don't like Muggle-borns because he doesn't need another reason to hate me."

Hermione was silent. "Is he always unbearable?" She asked after a long pause.

"If by unbearable, you mean stubborn, then yes." Narcissa smiled a content smile. "Draco has always been stubborn, just like his father. And, just like his father, he is exceptionally intelligent. He just hardly ever shows it. I'm very worried for him, considering he practically widowed himself into this bloody house."

"Why's he widowed?"

"I'm not completely sure. His father was killed during The War, and he's been different since." Narcissa pursed her lips. "To be honest, I think he's ashamed of what happened. He's afraid of people judging him for what he almost did. And I believe that he really does want to see the world again, but he's worried about all of the criticism he'd receive. The Malfoy name is still frowned upon, no mater what I try to do to fix it."

Hermione glanced over at Narcissa, taking in the utter heartbreak on her face. "How come Malfoy isn't rotting in a cell like the rest of them?"

"The Ministry saw how he really had been brought up and forced into dark magic by his father. I loved that man, but he was one of the worst influences a young boy could have. Anyway, the Ministry told Draco that he would be sent off to Azkaban if he did a single questionable thing. Draco's a unique case because most kids his age either were too deep in the Dark Arts to be excused, or barely did anything and got off the same way Draco did. Draco's the only person out of Azkaban who knew much of the Dark Lord's followers."

Hermione perked up at an idea. "Mrs. Malfoy, do you know any Death Eaters who escaped from The War? Has Malfoy told you anything?"

"No, dear. I was never privy to that information, and Draco never told me anything."

Hermione felt her shoulders sag with disappointment. "Oh."

Narcissa looked at her questioningly. "I'm curious to why you want to know."

Hermione shrugged indifferently. "It's nothing," She lied.

Narcissa frowned slightly. "Hermione, you seemed very depressed. Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

Hermione's memory flashed back.

Ron stared at her in disbelief. "You're what?"

Hermione sighed. "I have to go on an assignment. I don't know for how long, though, so I'm going to need for you to take care of my house. That includes Crookshanks, Ronald. Please, don't forget to feed him."

Ron stared at her. "I won't, but-"

"And please try and clean up all of your crap while I'm gone, okay? It would be nice to come home to a clean house."

"I will, but-"

"Oh, and-"

"Hermione. Would you please let me talk?"

Hermione swallowed and forced a smile. "Of course. I'm sorry, Ron."

"Where exactly are you going?"

"That's confidential information, Ron," Hermione replied feeling insanely guilty as she watched his face fall. "But I'll send you and Harry owls, okay? And I'm sure that where I'm going will let me get away once in a while."

"I'll just miss you Hermione," Ron was whispered reaching down to squeeze her hand. Hermione felt a pang of emotion and realized that she did care for Ron. Maybe not as much as he did for her, but she did care for him.

"I'll miss you too, Ron."

Ron leaned in and for the first time in three years, Hermione let his lips touch hers.

People always say that whenever you share a kiss with the person you're meant to be with forever, you feel a spark. It's the most basic concept of romance.

Hermione pulled away from the kiss, frowning at the lack of a spark. She wondered if she would ever find her soul mate.

"Hermione?" Narcissa's voice snapped her back to reality.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry. I was just remembering something. It's nothing," Hermione said, blinking. She thought about how she had yet to ever find a romantic connection with anyone. This made her want to collapse in on herself. So many of her friends were already married, and she was still by herself with a messy roommate.

"Would you mind following me, dear?" Narcissa asked, standing up. Hermione nodded and followed her out of the room, picking up her purse and book along the way. She trailed along until Narcissa led her into a huge living room.

It had an odd feeling to it. This wasn't where she had been tortured, but this living room looked much like where she had. There was a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and it casted strange shadows all over the walls. One of the walls was one huge mirror, making the room seem twice as large. Hermione got a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shuddered at her frizzy hair and wild expression.

That's when she noticed Malfoy laying on one of the couches, flipping through one of his mother's fashion magazines. He looked up and noticed Hermione and Narcissa watching him. "It's about time you both got here. I was forced to flip through Mother's magazine, and may I say how fucking ridiculous it is?"

"Draco," Narcissa said, looking at her son reproachfully.

"Suck it up, Mother. I'm a grown boy." Malfoy said, waving his hand in the air and standing up. "So you brought the Mudblood?"

"I'm right here, Malfoy. I can hear everything you're saying."

Malfoy was about to say a snide comeback when Narcissa interrupted him. "Hermione, would you mind answering a question?"

"No, of course not."

Malfoy sneered and Narcissa continued on. "Do you want to work here?"

The question surprised Hermione. She didn't want to work for the Milfoils, but she had to for information. "I need to the money," She began, not making eye contact, "So, yeah. I want to work here."

Malfoy scowled. "What? You want to work here?" Hermione swallowed and nodded, not speaking in fear of her voice cracking. "You dubious bitch. I know you're lying." With that, Malfoy strode out of the room, muttering under his breath.

"Draco!" Narcissa called after his son. "I'm sorry."

Hermione eyed where Malfoy had left. "It's fine," She said, feeling a wave of anger overcome her. "Can you show me my room?"

"Certainly." Narcissa led Hermione out of the room and back into the creepy hallways.

Draco slammed the door behind him harshly, still muttering under his breath. He knew the Mudblood was lying about wanting to stay. He didn't remember her as a liar from Hogwarts. She had just been stubborn nerdy and a real pain in the ass. His father had given him constant grief for why he was constantly beaten in academics by a Mudblood.

How he had hated Granger back in school! She had always been brilliant, so it was understandable that she got respect from most teachers. What didn't make any sense was how she had so many friends. Not only was she in the repulsive trio that always broke the rules and somehow managed to get away with it, but she had also had several other friends.

Draco didn't recall having as many friends as her. Crabbe and Gayle were more like servants that bent at his will, and Pansy was just another Slytherin girl who had fawned over him. He'd only hooded up with her because she was hot. The closest person he'd ever had to a friend was Zabini, but even he was more of an acquaintance.

Draco scoffed at himself. What was he doing, thinking of how Granger was better than him? He strode over to his dresser and pulled out the razorblade. In one swift movement, he tore his shirt off then sat down, leaning against his bathroom door. This time he slit himself across his left shoulder. Sweet bliss swept over him, and he smiled, closing his eyes. This was how he fell asleep, gripping the blade loosely.

When he woke up, his stomach growled. One glance at the clock told him that only four hours had passed and that it was eight at night. He slipped his shirt back on, then wandered into the kitchen. The Mudblood was cutting up vegetables.

"I'm starving," Draco announced, eyeing the food lying all over the counter. His stomach rumbled.

"Well, I'm making dinner right now," Granger replied, taking a tray of cut up peppers, onions, and tomatoes to a huge pot on one of the stoves. She poured them into a boiling liquid. Draco had to admit, it smelled fantastic.

"What is it?" He asked, trying not to sound too curious.

"Chicken Soup."

"Gross."

"You're gross," Granger replied, replacing a lid on the pot.

Draco noticed she was wearing a ridiculous pink apron with ruffles along the edges. "Nice apron," He sneered.

"Thanks," Granger said, rolling her eyes. "I got it out of your wardrobe," She added sarcastically.

Draco blinked, then looked at Granger with a raised eyebrow. "Ruffled and pink don't flatter me." Would he finally have an equal partner in arguing?

"I don't know why you bought it, then," Granger said, washing her hands in the sink.

"Come to think of it, it doesn't flatter you, either-"

"Why you would pick out something as ugly as this I have no idea-"

"Does anything flatter you-"

"Maybe that's why you wear that dark ensemble. You don't have anything better-"

"I don't think you would look good in anything-"

"Is that why you're widowed? People would make fun of you because of how you dress-"

"The only time I recall anyone looking at you lustily was at the Yule Ball, but that hardly counts-"

"I'm actually not all that surprised you would pick something as frilly as this-"

"Well, Mudblood," Draco began, his voice a different tone. "I'm surprised that you can hold your own in an argument."

Granger whirled around to glare at Draco, her cheeks flushed red with her anger. She opened her mouth to say something. "I-"

"Make me something to eat."

She stared at him like he was taking crack. "I am," She said slowly after a second.

"I want something to eat now," Draco complained.

"Then make it yourself!" Granger said impatiently, making an agitated gesture with her hands. Draco remained silent. "Go on! I'm waiting." Draco stood glaring, his cheeks reddening with anger. Granger's face changed and a slow grin spread on her face. "Wait a second. You can't make anything, can you?" Draco stood seething. "Ha! Draco Malfoy can't feed himself!" Granger laughed loudly and obnoxiously.

"Shut up, you stupid Mudblood! You have no right-"

"I have every right! If you're going bitch about everything, then leave! I don't care."

Draco shot her a glare that could have slain weaker people, but Hermione continued glaring at Draco. Draco couldn't believe how strong she was acting. He didn't remember her like this at all. "In case you've forgotten, Mudblood, you work for me now, and if you don't want to be fired-"

"Actually, Malfoy, you can't fire me."

"I can do whatever the hell I want to-"

"You're Mother and I came to an agreement whenever she showed me to my room."

Draco froze. "What sort of agreement?"

"You're allowed to give me reasonable work, and I have to complete. But, you can't fire me. You don't have anything over me-"

"Except for the fact that you work for me-"

"Technically, I work for your Mother-"

"You work for me, Granger. I may not be able to fire you, but I sure as hell can make you want to quit."

Granger narrowed her eyes. "You'll never be able to make me quit."

Malfoy chuckled a dark chuckle. "Is that a challenge?"

Granger smiled snarkily. "You wish it was a challenge, Malfoy." With that, she raised an eyebrow and began stirring the soup. "It's about ready if you want to eat."

"I don't want any of your Mudblood soup," Draco said condescendingly. A loud growling in his stomach promptly followed his refusal.

"Fine. Don't have any. I'm taking a bowl of this up to your mother's room. She's complaining about the beginning of a migraine, then I'm going to bed." She strode out of the door, holding a tray with a bowl of soup.

"Okay, fine. Walk away from this fight! I won!" Draco shouted after her down the hall. She remained silent as she walked out of sight. "Fucking bitch," Draco muttered under his breath.

He looked back at the pot of soup. It did smell superb, and his stomach was speaking to him. With an annoyed sigh, Draco poured himself a bowl of the Mudblood soup. He promised himself one thing: He sure as hell wasn't going to enjoy it.

After giving Narcissa her soup, Hermione made her way to her room. She was surprised because she actually found herself liking the room. It was simple. One four-poster bed in the corner, a desk, a dresser, and a joining bathroom with the usual amenities.

What she liked about it was the lack of feeling. It wasn't homey, but it certainly wasn't creepy like the rest of the house. She much preferred a room with no feeling as opposed to a room with an ominous one.

Hermione made her way into the shower, enjoying the feeling of hot water soaking her skin. She basked in the warmth as the water loosened up her tense muscles. She let out a long sigh, smiling at the peculiar feeling showering gave her.

After she turned the water off, Hermione slipped into silk pajamas. Pursing her lips in thought, she decided she would write a letter to her friends. After gathering parchment, ink and quills from inside her purse, she sat down. She gave it quite a bit of thought, then began to write her letter.

Dear Harry,

How I wish you and Ron were here with me. It's undeniably horrid, just as I knew it would be. Malfoy's just as terrible as before, except now he's gone and widowed himself. It's very frustrating, and I cannot wait until I'm finished.

I wonder how long you'll be in London. I get off Sundays, so if you're still here, you, Ron and I can meet up at some point.

Could you make sure Ron's feeding Crookshanks? I don't need to come home to a starved cat.

Thanks, Harry. Miss you and love you.

Hermione

Hermione wrote up much the same letter to Ron then sent them both off with Franklin, an owl she borrowed from Narcissa. After watching Franklin disappear into the distance she decided to call it an early night. Merlin knew what she was going to have to do tomorrow.

Hermione snuggled under the covers in the bed and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come swiftly.

Draco paced around his room, thinking about nothing in particular. He had finished off the bowl of Granger's soup, along with three others. He was half-expecting that it was poisoned and that he would drop dead any second now.

When ten minutes passed and he didn't die, Draco settled for falling asleep. He pulled on boxers, and then crawled into his bed. Sleep didn't come for a while, but then again, it never did. All of the mistakes he had made in his whole lifetime flashed in front of him, and no matter how much he tried to shut them out, he couldn't.

Draco spent his night dreaming about death and soup.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the shortness. I'd like to thank Elf L. Dragoon for leaving a review about the mistake on my document and how it was hard to tell the different POV. Hope the change helped in this chapter.

Also, I'm not from the UK, so I'm not familiar with the language tendencies. I'm just not going to deal like it, and they're gonna talk like Americans!

Thanks for reading! Please review! :)