A/N: I don't get how authors can write 15k word chapters. It's quite the struggle for me to get to 1k. I'm so sorry if this is short for the wait!
Hermione landed back on the bed with a soft thump. She could still feel the fear, hot on her skin from Draco's sharp remarks. In the three short years since Hogwarts, Draco had become more powerful that she could've imagined. She was always neck to neck with him, fighting to be top of the class, but now, it's evident Draco had gone through training that she hadn't.
He looked confident, sure of himself that he could defeat anything that was thrown his way.
Her wand hand tapped anxiously against her thigh, uncomfortable without her wand within reach. Three years had trained Hermione to be always on high-alert and ready to attack without a seconds notice. Being unarmed made her feel vulnerable, a dangerous position to be in the constant war zone. Voldemort might have won, but the fight wasn't over yet.
She felt slightly guilty for yelling at Draco without a reason. Well she had a reason, but Draco didn't know that. Should she apologize? He was the one who kidnapped her anyways.
She pulled the Slytherin green comforter over her shoulders, curling up to her side, enjoying having a comfortable bed all to herself. She felt selfish, taking advantage of her situation while the rest of the Order thought she might be dead. Nevertheless, she fell into a dreamless sleep, the first in months.
Two days passed and Hermione had not seen Draco at all. His house elf brought food up to her room periodically and whenever she made a move to get out of bed, the house elf would say, "Master Draco insists that Hermione rest in the bed". That didn't stop her from stretching her legs whenever the house elf wasn't there.
The room was set up to be Draco's personal room. The sheets were soft and luxurious, the room impeccably clean. How Draco, she had thought, taking in the black furniture and Slytherin tapestry. There were no photos, no childhood memorabilia, the only things slightly personal she had found was in the dresser; which was filled with row after row of expensive robes, shirts and a few casual pieces of attire.
After staying in bed in the same clothes for a few days, Hermione felt disgusting. Her barefeet padded through the dark oak floors to the attached bathroom. It was masculine, decorated with a black theme and fashioned with a shower and bath. Hermione fumbled through the cupboards, pulling out a few toiletries and took a shower. She helped herself to one of Malfoy's more casual shirts and pulled on a pair of shorts, cinching it extra tight at the waist.
She walked downstairs, tiptoeing on the cold marble. Like Draco's room, the rest of the house was cold and unemotional, void of any hint of the Malfoy family that lived here.
"What do you think you're doing Granger?" A smooth baritone voice much too close to her ear startled her.
"Stop with the stalking tactics," Hermione scowled, turning around "It's not a good look."
"I hardly want to impress someone like you," Draco said, walking past her to sit on a couch in the living room. His previous anger has seemed to diminish within the two days, and he talked to her as if nothing happened. She moved to sit in the adjacent couch, sinking into the pliable leather.
"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, "I thought I asked Hevwid to provide everything for you."
"I was bored," Hermione replied lamely.
"Go entertain yourself," Draco said, flipping through a few newspapers on the glass coffee table. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted an old picture of Harry moving through one of the commentary columns.
"It's kind of hard to," Hermione started dryly, "when you're being held hostage without your wand," Her eyes glanced over the titles. Public Transport Temporarily Disbanded! Worries over muggle interference arises.
"Isn't that quite unfortunate," He drawled. Hermione stiffened in anger. A wand was a wizard's most prized possession, it was made for them and over the years, the wand and the wizard have formed an emotional bond. It was one of the only ways to access magic, to function in the wizarding world, to protect themselves in the wizarding world.
She breathed in and out, "Malfoy, I'd like my wand back."
Draco flipped through a few pages, "If you think you're getting your wand back-"
"What are you going to do to me?" Hermione repeated. She felt useless, as if she was waiting the war out, doing nothing. At least being tortured for information was something more than doing this.
"This is hardly a prison," Hermione continued, ignoring the annoyed glare coming from the blonde-haired man, "What kind of prison locks up their prisoners in a bedroom? And provides them with-"
Draco stood up, his icy anger radiating over her, Oh you're in for it Hermione, "If you're protesting, I will gladly lock you up in the dungeons down below." Hermione subconsciously shrunk back into the chair.
His finger tilted up her chin to look at her squarely in the eye, "Are we clear?"
The lioness roared, "I'd like to see you try."
"You're not in the position to challenge me," Grey eyes narrowed.
Once Hermione started, she couldn't stop. Logically, she knew Malfoy was right but she refused to back down, "I am stronger than you can ever imagine, Malfoy."
There was a slight pause before Malfoy's hand tightened over her wrist and hauled her out of the couch. Hermione desperately dug her feet into the ground, but they just slid over the smooth wood finish. His strides were long, forcing Hermione to run to catch up.
A large concrete door slid open and Malfoy tossed her none too gently into the room, "Stronger that I've ever imagined? Have fun, Granger." The door shut behind him.
You brought this upon yourself, Hermione berated herself. It was just so easy to rile up Malfoy. They fought at every turn, every bend, and most of the time she didn't mean what she said. Well, maybe she did mean what she said, afterall, Malfoy was being uncommonly nice to her. She should've been thrown straight into the dungeon from day one.
Hermione had barely gone out of the room, and a little less than ten minutes later she was again, facing the brunt of Malfoy's anger.
She gingerly sat down on the cold concrete bench lined next to the wall and curled up into a ball, shivering in the magic-enhanced chill.
Remember to comment and review! (Is the action happening too fast? I feel like I'm rushing it.)
xxAudrey