Disclaimer: I own popcorn and cookies, but I do not own Harry Potter. I merely borrowing JK's creations.

Prisoner

Draco clenched his hair with his tawny fingers. His feet were touching the wooden flooring, yet he felt awfully unstable. If he had not been sitting down already he frightened he would have fainted.

"Just kill me now" he whimpered.

There was a grunt behind him and he shot up from the bed. The speed he rose to his feet were the equivalent to a hummingbird flapping its wing.

The woman laying in the bed had yet to open her eyes. She was awake. She was aware of the fact she was alive, but judging by the sound of it, she most likely wished she wasn't. The painful, low noises escaping her mouth, cut straight through him.

"Stop" he cringed.

Hermione shot her eyes open and, all too quickly, tried to move. The pain in her chest, from her possibly broken ribs, made it hard to breath, let alone move. A loud and pained sigh passed through her crackled lips. Once she was back down on the bed again she shot Malfoy a glance before trying to locate her whereabouts.

"W-where am I?" she croaked.

Draco's face twitched before looking over towards the door. "In the mansion."

"Why am I not dead?"

"You don't remember?" He felt a frustrating panic, in the form of anger, shooting though him. His eyes stayed on the marvel that was a mess of tangled hair.

"I do." she whispered. "I don't understand why." she wheezed lowly.

There was a long moment of silence. Draco didn't know how to answer. He simply didn't know the answer. He was the glitch in the Malfoy family; he had done what no other would have done. Draco was the incompetent, frail weakling. He had spent his life trying to do what people enforced on him, but never managed to execute what was expected. He had never been enough in anyone's eyes.

And he had done it again. All he would have had to do was let Bellatrix kill her. Murder her. But instead he had to let his feelings, instincts and plain stupidity get in the way. He was a Malfoy, Malfoy's put themselves first. Why couldn't he just have let her die?

"Once you're healed enough to escape, your'e out of here. Understood?" Draco's harsh tone made Hermione squint. Once he had shut the door harshly behind him, with a loud bang, she jumped.

Once safely on the other side of the door Draco rested his heavy head against the cool wood. "Why did I save you?" he mumbled.

On the other side of the door however, a fidgety Hermione laid in complete abeyance. She dreaded that he would come back inside. Surprisingly enough she feared him. He was feeble and unruly. His impetuous actions came from his inner core. He was ruled by the darkest of demons, resting within him. He could not be trusted.

But she needed him. Draco Malfoy was the key to her mending. To her survival.

Hermione laid in complete silence for a time which felt like hours, contemplating the sanity of Malfoy. And her self.

There was no windows in this room, which made it hard to tell both time a location. If she was to break out it would have to be though the use of Malfoy.

A harsh knock on the door startled her, disturbing her thoughts. Infesting them with fright. The doorknob slowly turned and a small click echoed through the idle room. Hermione did not dare look over to see who entered, forcing her eyes shut. All she heard was the slow, creaking footsteps, from hard shoes on wooden flooring.

The sound slowly came up next to the bed, creeping up beside her. While keeping her eyes firmly closed, Hermione's heart belted fast and hard against her chest. She could feel the presence of a body hovering next to her. Hushed breathing came closer to her face. The person's breath flittered over her face, and the radiating warmth from a body bundled on her cheeks.

It came to the point when she could not take it any longer; she shot open her eyes, took a deep breath she hadn't known she had been holding, and prepared to scream. This is when a cold soft hand shoved her lips closed. She shifted under the force of the hand, roaming the darkness feverishly with her eyes. All until they locked on another set of eyes watching her widely. Those pale gray eyes sparked a memory, a memory of a young, lost boy she had once met.

"Do. Not. Scream." Draco Malfoy warned. "Okay?"

She complied with a nod.

"I thought you were dead." he mumbled angrily. "Can you sit?" he asked, and she tried. "Here let me help." Draco leaned down over her and grabbed hold of her naked, bony shoulders. Together they forced her to a sitting position, with slight trouble.

Hermione wanted to cough, but a shooting pain threatened whenever she took a deep enough breath.

"I brought food." Draco said, making her aware of him again.

"Water" she whispered.

"Do you want water?" he asked, not sure of what she had said; she had barely moved her lips, the sound had been close to inaudible.

Hermione nodded slowly, and took the cup when he held it out before her. The light from the open door was enough to let her know she was on the ground floor. She could swear she smelled roses. And bushes of lavender.

A small tear dripped down her crummy cheek.

Draco's hand was in front of her eyes when he abruptly stopped in the middle of his movement. He swiftly brought himself to his feet.

"Lumos." A little chandelier lit up at the sound of his charm. "I have to go. Eat." he ordered before he left her alone without a second glance.

Once alone in the dim, silent room, she had no one to distract her from her longing to go back home. Hug her parents and kiss them on their cheeks. Talk too long into the nights, cuddling on the couch. Watch movies, and documentaries, that lead to heated discussions. Sunday-morning waffles, and blueberry jam. Dig holes for her mother's newest plants. Drying herbs in the kitchen window, by tying them to purple ribbon-strings.

Instead she lay on a soft, and much to big bed, injured through-out. Awaiting her death, that seemed much too close for her liking. Her parents memories no longer including her, nor did the garden bloom and smell like Eden anymore.

Hermione let her tears flow down her cheeks, washing off the dirt that almost seemed a part of her by now. Even holding her eyes closed tears carefully seeped through the nonexistent cracks. The pain of losing all she loved hurt more than her mutilated body. She wished she could turn back time, change everything. Make it right in the world.

The room was small and stuffy and smelled like mashed potatoes. Opening her eyes she noticed the plates of foods lined up on the table next to the bed. It was enough for a hoard of horses, judging by the amount.

Already sitting up she tried to lean closer to the table. Placing her legs over the corner of the bed placed her in the optimum position in front of the food. The many meals cooked by house elves, for sure, were awfully tempting. Her stomach groaned at her hesitation.

Once she had started there was no stop in her. It was as if her stomach was alike an empty purse with an invisible expansion charm put on it. Where all the food disappeared to she did not know, but she had to store. When her next meal would come she was unsure of. Living off of berries and an occasional fish whilst in the forest, Hermione was reluctant to eat more than her stomach could handle. Forcing the rest down, for the safety, her survival.

"Fancied the cuisine?" His cool voice shot through the warm air.

She almost choked on her pumpkin juice, and her ribs crushed under the impairment. Looking up towards the door, she found a tall man. He was dressed in all black, standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

Malfoy slanted in to the room, the door closing behind him. "Didn't mean to take your breath away." he said, with no amusement. Almost as if the old him had managed to escape his body, leaving only the faint impression of him left in this pale man standing before her.

Hermione's swollen skin had started to mare at places punches had touched her delicate skin. The faint blue hue, from clogging blood under the surface, didn't fit with her otherwise warm glow.

"What you witnessed" she grumbled, "was fear." She met his eyes with anger, yet he only looked back with relatable amusement.

"I did not think you Gryffindors felt fear." He stated and moved to one of the armchairs at the end of the bed.

"We're only human, of course we feel fear." she whispered frustratedly. "And, just like you Slytherins, we choose not to pay it too much attention."

"I tend to pay a lot of attention to my fears" Draco shot in before he could stop himself, almost wincing as he realized.

"Ah, of course," she gnarred in response, "But we show it differently. Through our actions, especially."

"And what do my actions say about me?"

"That you're a coward" Hermione stopped to try to cough lightly, "a cockroach, and a self-absorbed bastard that does not care for anyone else but himself."

"Is that so." he responded bemusedly.

Hermione took a while before speaking again. "Apart from now." She was relating to the latest action of goodness that had escaped his otherwise so selfish heart. Looking at him now, with a dazed look. "Why did you do that?"

At a loss of words, befuddled by her bluntness, he stared at her with empty eyes. The moment dragged on till he finally drew a breath and opened his mouth. "I don't know." He crooked his eyebrow, daring her to continue the conversion.

Hermione watched him chew his cheeks, making his pale lips purse. His hands were tapping the edges of the armchair he was delicately launched in, rhythmically releasing tension.

Draco rolled his eyes inwardly, he wanted to leave the room and never come back. Forget about it, hide it, seal it for good. Yet he stayed. He had to, didn't he?

"What happens now?" she finally piped up, finally taking her eyes off of him, redirecting them to her food. As she had been holding her fork, she decided to try and pick on the food left on her plate. Had she had a big enough stomach she would have eaten what was left. Living off of nothing for the past few month, it had shrunk to fit barely anything.

Draco watched her pick on the plate and scrunched his nose. "You didn't eat."

Surprised, she looked back at him. "I did" she defended herself. Leaning back slightly, cursing under her breath as her ribs ached.

Draco twinged at the look of her. He couldn't stay, he had to get out of there. Draco quickly rose to his feet, his mind at a standstill.

Hermione didn't dare to look up at his erring figure. None of them knew how to react to the reflexive action.

After an eternity of seconds Draco spoke. "Eat up." and yet again, left her alone in the solitary room.

"I can't" she responded to the closed door.