CHAPTER 2


The words wouldn't leave my rattled skull. Train her. He wanted me to turn Hermione-fucking-Granger into a bloody Deatheater. I've got a better chance at sleeping with the girl. How am I meant to go about this?

There's a knock at my door, 'Malfoy?'

Fuck.

I sit up straight and run a hand through my hair. When was the last time I was nervous to speak to someone? Her delicate knock surrounds my ears again and I call out to her.

'Come in.'

The door knob turns and slowly the door creaks open. She pokes her head in slightly, then seems to relax at the sight of me.

Why in Merlin's name would she do that?

She enters fully and closes the door behind her, however her hand remains on the knob as if expecting to need to leave swiftly.

I would never lay a hand on you.

My brow furrows as I search for something to say. She won't look at me. 'Would you like to borrow a shirt?'

Her head slowly lifts and her eyes meet mine. She smiles sweetly then looks down at her ripped top. At first, she looks mortified realising how exposed she is then looks straight up to me, seeing that I haven't once strayed to her ripped top she calms and nods.

I walk to my chest of draws and pull out a dark green cotton top. I turn to her, motioning for her to come forward. When she tenses and her grip on the door tightens I raise my hand in surrender and slowly walk towards her. I remain about a metre away from her, extending my arm so she can reach the top. Once it leaves my fingertips I turn my back to her. She puts my top on and discards hers to the floor. I don't turn around; afraid I may accidentally turn to early and scare her. Her soft hand touches my shoulder. I turn to face her. Her breathing is heavy and her cheek is cut. She looks so vulnerable and frightened.

I wish she wouldn't look at me like that.

I slouch slightly, worried I look too stern and turn my head to the side. 'Why did you come here? Who sent you?'

She swallows, 'Your father,' She then closes her eyes gently. She must be so exhausted.

'I see. You're tired, do you know where you're staying?'

'No.'

She's going to refuse, but I must try. I don't want her leaving my sight.

'You can sleep here. I'll take the chair.'

She appears shaken by my passiveness. Did she expect me to lash out at her for coming when she did what she was told like the little fucking do-gooder she is? Did she expect me to give her an even harder time when I didn't even expect her here? When there's a fucking war and everyone's too goddamn enervated to fight anything but their cause?

She doesn't detest so I walk away towards my dresser again. I find a pair of oversized grey sweatpants and transfigure them to fit her small frame. I motion towards the bathroom door with them and she enters it, taking the bottoms on her way past.

I've been a light sleeper for years. Never was particularly good at sleeping. Now isn't any different and I rarely do. She grunts in her sleep. She looks so goddamn peaceful, I don't want to bother her. But it's when she starts to shake, when she's crying and her knuckles are white from holding onto the bed sheets too hard, that I must intervene.

'Hermione!' I call, moving from the chair to the bed. She doesn't budge.

I lift the sheets and gather her withering self into my arms. She's boiling, drenched in sweat and is far too bony.

Yet so haunted, she's still beautiful.

'Hermione, Hermione wake up,' I repeat as I shake her.

She gasps for air as she wakes, her eyes flung open and staring into mine with fear. She squirms in my arms, most likely extremely uncomfortable to be this close to me.

I wish that wasn't the case.

She scuttles out of my arms, still hyperventilating and wraps her arms around her knees. She's so small. When did she need protecting so badly?

'Granger, it's okay. It was just a night terror.'

She looks up at me and just breaks.

Her sobs rattle through my room, neither of us speak for at least an hour until I rise from my position on the bed and move to the cabinet containing my nightly doses of Sleep Draught. I pull out the bottle dated for tonight and close the cabinet door, observing her from the mirror attached to the door. Her shoulders still shake even though her cries have become silent. She sniffles occasionally as I move towards her. No words are spoken as I hand her the bottle and nod. She looks completely taken back.

I wish you'd stop seeing me as the cruel monster I am.

She looks at the label wrapped snug around the neck of the glass and must realise that the dose is mine as her features flitter with something that must be complete relief, gratefulness but still confusion. Her eyes are half open with tiredness and the strain of crying. Her hair is a mess, even more so, from the fidgeting during her nightmare and her face is blotchy, nose red.

Still so beautiful.


She didn't wake for the rest of the night, as expected. She remained peaceful until I simply couldn't look at her sleeping form for any longer. I didn't close my eyes for longer than a second. I kept them trained on her.

She deserves so much more than this life could possibly give her.

She started to come round at around 8:32, 12 minutes after the majority of the murderers occupying his house had left for a mission. I decided that putting off the inevitable was pointless; this was Hermione Granger after all.

But first, I wanted to get off to a good start with her. If I'mto train her, she needs to trust me somewhat and given our history, that was going to take large effort on my part.

I quietly apparated to the kitchen, opened my private medicine box which most of the time remained concealed and took some of the muggle painkillers I obtained while ransacking someone's house out of the packet.

I've gotten so used to spells that they just didnt seem to dull physical pain as well as they could inflict it.

I also peered into a cuboard to find a mug, then brewed some tea. Leaving the kitchen with a tray of biscuits, tea, water and paracetamol, I rentered my room. She was still lying in my bed, asleep, when I placed the tray on the bedside table.

"Granger," I called softly.

She stired until she faced me, then her beautiful, deep brown eyes fluttered open.

She instantly tensed and almost had to remember where she was.

It must have been difficult waking up in the bed of a murderer.

"I, Malfoy?" she asked, looking at the tray. I walked over to my draws and pulled out another top.

"It's not much, we don't have much here. Often go out for food, get something while working. I'll make sure to get something for you on my way out."

"Wait, you're going?" she questioned, mouth full of biscuit.

God she's precious.

I moved closer to the bed, but still kept my distance.

I dropped the top onto the bed as I spoke. "You can't stay in my tops and sweatpants forever Granger."

She still seemed so cool and collected. It unnerved me. She didnt respond, swallowing down the paracetamol as I moved towards the door.

"Paracetamol?"

"It's a muggle pain killer, works wonders real-"

"I know what paracetamol is Malfoy," she cut in, "I am a mudblood afteral-"

I stalked towards her with haste and met her face to face. I could feel her heartbeat bouncing out of her own skin.

"You will never refer to yourself as that in my presence, in anyone's presence. Do you understand Granger? You will not stoop to His fucking level," I spat.

She looked astounded. As if I was an alien. I suppose I am to her.

"Do you under-fucking-stand?"

She gulped and nodded, anxious for me to calm down.

I left as fast as I addressed her.


I returned with three bags of clothing I imagined would fit and suit her, having pictured her for so long. Another two bags I carried were filled with food.

She hasn't left my mind for years, but today especially, she remains, pinned at the forefront of my memory, refusing to move. She is most beautiful, entrancing person I think could exist. I never found her attractive at first. She was bossy, incompetent, annoying, too smart. But then she grew into her wild messy hair. Her eyes started to glitter I suppose and not just in the presence of light. She seemed more mature, less annoying. I began to enjoy staring at the back of her head at times during potions. Then I'd curse myself of course.

Her beauty at the Yule Ball, was extroadinary.

She wasn't like the other girls. She didn't constantly try to look nice, like Pansy. She did that night however. She looked most magnificent. I just couldn't believe it was her. Everyone was amazed. Everyone, as I, just surprised.

Surprised she hadn't bloomed before.

I arrive back at the manor to find her still in my room, gazing at a book I left on my bedside table.

"You're back," she whispered, closing the book and shrinking into herself and the quilt.

"Yes," I whisper back.

I move closer towards her and place the clothing bags onto the bed.

She looks at me, amazed. "You bought those?" she whispers again.

"Of course." I sit, "Why are we whispering?"

She giggles heartily and It's a most wonderful noise. However her face suddenly grows hard. She remembers, that she's here. She understands she's a prisoner, regardless of the fact she's sleeping in my bed rather than a cell.

That's probably worse.

"Malfoy, why am I here?"

I can't tell her. I can't.

I look around as I try to formulate an idea. I have to tell her, It's the only way this can possibly work.

"Granger, here me out.'

Her face scrunches as she turns her head. "Malfoy," she asks, sternly, with warning in her tone, "Why am I here?"

She leaves the bed and stands, crossing her arms across her chest.

"He has plans for you."

"He? As in Voldemort?" She replies. His name makes me shiver. She notices.

She laughs, "Oh come on Malfoy, you live with him, you follow him and you can't even hear his name without inwardly cringing?" she finishes her mockery with a smile.

My hands begin to shake, "Don't you dar-"

"Don't I dare what?" she asks, cutting in, angry now, "Your people bring me here and you, you of all people are the nicest to me. So I ask, politely, why the fuck I'm here and you can't even give me a straight answer?"

I'm scowling, seething at her. She moves towards me and begins again, "Look at you, you're a coward. You can't even talk to me?" She takes another step shouting this time. "Why should I not dare? Why should I not taunt the bully who taunted me all my bloody lif-"

The minute she's within arms reach I lose it, I grab her and throw her against the wall, putting my arms either side of her so she can't leave.

"He wants me to train you!" I spit, her breathing is heavy as she reclines into herself, trying to get as far away from my body as she can.

"He wants me to turn you into a Deatheater. He knows Harry's whereabouts Granger, He knows," I say, less violently. I soften my voice in effort to calm her, however she only gets more anxious.

"So if I don't comply, he'll kill him?" She whispers looking lost.

I close my eyes, I wish I could just pull her into me, let her cry against me, comfort her. But she could never find comfort in the arms of a killer.

I remove my arms from their place beside her head, "Yes."

"You're bluffing," she scoffs, but her eyes tell me that she doesn't quite believe herself. The fear in her eyes is real. Didn't Weasley die? Isn't she alone without him? If Harry dies she'd be alone in a world ruled by a man who wants to skin her.

You'd always have me.

She begins to cry. Her hands go up to her face, to cover her flooding eyes as she slides down the wall and hunches on the floor. I kneel so I'm at her level.

"I'll keep you safe Granger, I don't want you or Harry dead."

She looks up at me, furrows her brow and shakes her head. "Why are you being so nice to me?" She questions between sniffles.

I inhale deeply, wondering how thoroughly I should answer that.

Because I want to be your friend? Because I don't want you to look at me the way you always have, with hatred. Because I love you and I wish one day you'd love me back?

"Because this is a war, Granger. People often make mistakes in war, which they grow from. Let's say my mistake was not defecting sooner."

She, nods and doesnt press onwards. But I myself am curious, "Granger, why did you relax when you came here last night?" She thinks for a second, innocently bites her lip, Merlin, then wipes her eyes before she responds, "Because you've been decent to me. Because you are the only person who hasn't directly attacked me, aside from a couple times in Hogwarts." I nod but she goes on, "Because I think there's more to you than who you were in school, becaus you're familiar and because well, you're my trainer."

My eyes snap up to hers at her last words, "Your what?"

"I'll let you train me, if it keeps Harry alive."