A/N: I've been reading through the other two chapters I have up, and just noticed all of the mistakes. I'm so sorry for that! Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who read my story and, especially, to everyone who reviewed! So without further ado, here is the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter.

When I lost hope

You were there to remind me

This is the start

Everything was black. Draco felt no pain whatsoever. It was as if he was floating in the stars, admiring all the constellations and meteors. Draco felt his eyes flicker open, but it was still black. He blinked, and objects swam before him. Brown and beige intertwined in the air, as well as baby blue. Draco blinked again.

A worried face was above him, looking down. The face was beautiful, and Draco longed to reach up to it, but his muscles had seized up and wouldn't let him move at all.

Once again, Draco blinked, more forcefully this time. The first thing he saw was Granger's face, eyes red and bloodshot. He then noticed that they were in a room, a very small room at that. Draco blinked as he looked down. He was in a bed.

Wait, what? He was in a bed, Granger was next to him, yet he was not in Malfoy Manor, so where was he? He tried to remember, but all he could think of was blackness; empty pits of blackness that tunneled on for eternity.

"Wh-where am I?" asked Draco wearily. If he had been up to scratch, he would have mentally kicked himself for sounding like a cheesy movie character, but, to be honest, Draco wasn't in the best shape at that moment, and the fact he actually formed a coherent sentence was nothing short a medical miracle.

"Shell Cottage," replied Granger, her voice still croaky. She opened her mouth again, and elaborated as Draco raised one eyebrow at her bemusedly. "Bill and Fleur Weasley's house."

As soon as Draco heard the name Weasley, he scrunched up his face in a disgusted manner. Granger glared at him. "Don't pull that face!" she snapped. "They offered you sympathy, treated your wounds, gave you food from their table… and you can't even get over a little grudge! Perhaps I should go tell the boys that you are awake, and that I changed my mind. They wanted to lock you up, just so you know, but here you are, thanks to me."

Draco tried to smirk, but it ended up as a grimace. "That isn't what I meant," he started, trying to think of an excuse. "It's just… my stomach hurts." All the contempt in her eyes vanished. Good job, Draco, he thought. Granger turned, and busied herself at a small table squeezed into the corner of the tiny room. Draco slumped back onto his pillows, already tired.

When Granger spun back around, she was holding a mug. He gave her a puzzled look as she shoved it at him. "Drink. It will numb the pain." Draco raised his eyebrows. Was it safe? He thought, half unsure if she was trying to poison him, half ready to gulp down the concoction to get rid of the pain that had swelled up inside him. It seemed his excuse had triggered something inside him, and it was now coming true.

"Oh come on," she said, rolling her eyes indignantly, "you really think that I would poison you? After all of this, you think I would poison you?" Draco just looked at her, his eyebrows still skyrocketing towards his hairline. Granger sighed. "Thanks," she said sarcastically, still thrusting the mug at him, "Just drink it."

Draco took the cup from her and drank deeply; her voice had so much finality in it, it felt natural that he should trust her.

Almost instantly, all the pain faded from his abdomen. He set down the teacup and looked up to see Granger smiling smugly at him. "See? No poison." She took the glass out of his hands, and set it on the small table again. "Not yet," she added with a grin.

They were in silence for a moment, then Draco cleared his throat, saying, "So, Granger… what were you saying about Potter and Weasley? I mean, I usually don't care at all about them – still don't by the way – but you did say something about… imprisonment, was it?"

The girl blushed, but looked up at him. She seemed to be weighing up her words in her mind, and finally said, very slowly, "Yes… It seemed that Harry and Ron, as well as Dean and Fleur, deemed you as… hmmm, untrustworthy. They seemed to think you had, ah, ulterior motives, so to speak."

"Ulterior motives?" said Draco, mockingly raising an eyebrow. "That's funny. I never have ulterior motives."

Hermione laughed dryly. "Of course not." She stood up, and walked to the door. "You're going to need some sleep in order to recover. Goodnight, Malfoy." She shut the door behind her, and Draco was silent for a while.

"Goodbye, Hermione," he eventually whispered.

"Ron? Harry?" I called, up the stairs. There was a clunk, a scrape, and the creaking of a door opening before Harry emerged. He stood on the landing, and looked down the rickety stairs at his best female friend.

"Hey Hermon," he said, smiling gently, using the nickname he and Ron had created all those years ago. "What's up?"

Barely a moment after the words had left Harry's mouth; Ron stormed out of Griphook's room, slamming the door behind him. "The sooner we're rid of that f-" he then spotted me, and stopped himself before he could speak ill of the goblin – he knew how I was with magical creature treatment.

"Oh, hey Hermon! What were you guys talking about?" he asked, trying to cover up his near-slip of the tongue.

"Harry was just asking how I am," I replied, smiling to let him know he was off the hook – for now.

"I think the question should be 'how's life with the ferret?'" he guffawed, Harry clapping him on the shoulder as the two boys chuckled in unison. Dorks, I thought.

"He's really not that bad," I insisted, knowing I was fighting a losing battle.

"Not that bad?" Harry repeated, incredulous.

"Hermione, he's a Death Eater," finished Ron. I rolled my eyes. Harry and Ron had an uncanny way of finishing each other's sentences, much like Fred and George. Of course Ron would go out of his way to use my actual name in attempt to convince me. Eurh. Flattery.

"Whatever. How's the Gringott's plan going?" I asked.

"Terrible," muttered Ron.

At the same time, Harry said, "Fine… We're planning to go tomorrow or the next day, get the Horcrux, and then come back. In the mean time, you're figuring out ways to destroy it, right?"

I smiled weakly. "Yeah." I didn't think it was wise to mention that in between helping out Fleur, eating, sleeping and catering to Malfoy's every need, I had barely 4 hours in the last week to read. And to me, that is not enough.

Draco watched from the kitchen window as Granger waved to Weasley – now disguised as Rodolphus Lestrange – as the former ginger disapparated. Draco didn't even pretend to fathom what was going on, and did not want to ask; when Draco's creepy uncle walked into the room, Draco had had a hissy fit, and tried to curse him. It was later explained to him by a screaming Granger that his 'uncle' was actually Weasley with Polyjuice Potion.

That night, the winds howled and shook the tiny cottage like it was a box of matchsticks. Granger was 'sleeping' on a mattress on Draco's floor – there was no room anywhere else – and she actually couldn't sleep. Draco, on the other hand, was sound asleep, well, sort of. He was having a nightmare, again.

He was dreaming that Death Eaters were looking for him. They were searching far and wide, determined to get him back, and to punish those who "kidnapped" him.

Draco watched helplessly as the Death Eaters broke into the cottage, killed Fleur and Ollivander, stormed through the house, and finally found him and Hermione, tortured her, and chained him up. Her screams bounded around his head, and he was trying to wake up; he was shaking himself, no, someone was shaking him…

His eyes opened suddenly, and he saw Granger, shaking him to wake him up, screaming. Quickly, he sat up, and focused on her words. "DEATH EATERS! QUICK, WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! THEY THINK YOU BETRAYED THEM! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Draco leapt up, grabbed the hysterical girl's hand, and tried to apparate, but couldn't. "No! This house is charmed! We have to get outside!" she cried, wringing her free hand in desperation.

Without further ado, Draco sprinted to the door, wrenched it open, and ran, tugging Hermione with him. When they reached the living room, it was chaos in its pure form. Bodies littered the floor; Hermione's heart lurched as she spotted Fleur and Ollivander's corpses. Draco noticed them too, but he knew they were long gone, and if he didn't get out of there soon, both he and Granger would be joining them.

Clearly not thinking straight, Draco once again scooped the Muggleborn witch into his arms. He leapt over the coffee table, clambered over the couch, and dashed right out of the door, dodging spells as he went.

He heard someone yell the Killing Curse, and Granger screamed, leapt out of his arms, and pulled him to the ground as if in slow motion, narrowly saving him from death.

As soon as they were out of immediate danger, Hermione grabbed his hand, scrambling to her feet, and then spinning on the spot, slightly ungracefully. The next moment, he felt as though a Muggle car crusher was compressing him: as though he was being squeezed and twisted like an old towel being rung out to dry.

And then it was gone. His feet found solid ground.

"Where are we?" he gasped, looking around, and not recognizing anything at all.

"Alice Springs," replied Granger, equally as puffed.

"Wha-?"

"Australia, Malfoy."

A/N: Longer chapter, yay! Sorry about the weird "Ron-Becoming-Rodolphus" thing. I know it isn't realistic, but I didn't think that making Ron becoming Bellatrix would be good – though it would be hilarious. Also, I couldn't quite remember the exact layout for Shell Cottage – such as where the rooms were exactly, so, sorry about that one. Anyways, I hoped you liked it! Please R&R!