The next morning was one of the mornings that Draco Malfoy detested with every inch of his being. It was blue skies, bright sun, and altogether too-cheery birds flitting and singing. Days like that always failed to make him feel cheery- rather that he felt like he wanted to go on the war path and kill every bright, cheery thing he possibly could. Unfortunately for him, Hermione Granger was what you would call a 'morning person', and so entered the room she had let him use with a smile brighter than the sun, a plate of food, and a steaming mug of something. He found that she looked an awful lot like a housewife. And then, of course, he made the mistake of informing her of that particular fact.
"Well," she replied after a few moments of awkward/stunned silence. "I'm not quite sure whether or not to take that as an insult or a compliment."
"How could you possibly take it as a compliment?" He asked, gratefully digging in to the food she brought him.
"It could mean that you think I look so nice as a housewife that you'd take me as your own and we could live in a nice cottage somewhere and have lots of children and-" But at that point a sufficient amount of food had flown out of Draco's mouth to send her into fits of laughter. Once she'd regained control, she gave him a mildly sympathetic look. "Why are you here Malfoy?"
"I seem to recall you bringing me here, Granger."
"I mean why aren't you in grand old Malfoy mansion, celebrating your initiation into the Death Eater circle?"
Malfoy gave her a half angry, half curious look. "Didn't they fill you in Granger? I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. No Death Eater is hesitant about killing."
"Don't you even have potential?" She asked, looking sympathetic and sounding oddly earnest.
He gave her a look. "Granger, they attempted to kill me. Then they let me get away, because this way they get to toy with me for a good few months before I'm expected back at school. And, of course, if something goes terribly wrong and we can't return to school, they'll toy with me for a few months longer."
"What did they do to you?" Hermione whispered.
Malfoy steadfastly focused his attention on his food, and Hermione eventually gave up. It was only later when Malfoy found Hermione out by the woods behind her house that he told her anything that was even remotely informative.
"Various hexes, curses; torture in general," Malfoy said, leaning against the wall of her house.
Hermione, who was sitting on a bench and gazing out at the woods, turned to face him. "Torture in general?"
"I'd really rather not go into specifics."
Hermione looked at his purple, blue, black face and thought of the cuts and bruises on his back and decided that she wouldn't continue pressing him. "Why are you here? At my house? In muggle suburbia?"
"Where is the last place that a group of Death Eaters would look for me? Muggle suburbia. The fact that I just happened to stumble upon your backyard was a stroke of luck," Malfoy replied with a shrug.
"You think it was lucky that you ended up at my house?" Hermione asked, giving him an inquiring look.
"Well, it's better than scaring some grandmother who would call the police and inform them that I was trying to steal her precious belongings, or perhaps report that I was a lost child and then have my picture plastered everywhere."
"Yes, I suppose so…" Hermione looked off into the woods again, clearly contemplating the situation.
"Right, so – Granger, what's for lunch?"