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3: Musings

Hermione winced as her leg connected sharply with the edge of the step.

It was all in all, a fairly stupidly designed house, she thought furiously. And to cap it all off, she was fairly certain that Malfoy had heard her during her rare moment of clumsiness. Needless to say, she doubted he would keep his trap shut about it when she ran into him again.

She looked around the small kitchen, rubbing her sore shin. There were a few cupboards above and below the main kitchen bench which Malfoy had (thankfully) been keeping tidy. Hermione walked (hobbled, really) over to the refrigerator and opened up the steel door hopefully. After being suddenly removed from Grimmauld Place, and then once again being suddenly removed from Hogwarts, she had missed her breakfast. Thinking of breakfast gave her a small pang. Only a few minutes ago, she was due to sit down with the Weasleys and Harry to yet another one of Molly's fantastic meals…. Ron would have yet again unceremoniously stuff his face, and she would – yet again – watch on in both exasperation and amusement.

Who knew how long it'd be until she would see him again, or even hear from him… McGonagall hadn't mentioned anything about visits, not had she said anything about mail, or any other form of communication… a small knot formed at the bottom of her stomach as she considered the idea of being stuck here with Malfoy with absolutely no outside interference for… an indefinite amount of time…

Suddenly, she wasn't all that hungry anymore.

She let the fridge door close on its own, with a small click, as it sealed itself shut again.

Leaning back against the table, she thought about how best to approach her newly found situation.

As far as she knew, Malfoy had been hidden by the ministry for almost 3 months now, most likely in this one house the entire time… he would know what kind of security would be around the house… though she didn't really fancy the idea of having to talk to him, and the idea of having to ask him for information, for help – that was galling. No doubt he would spring on the opportunity to ridicule her lack of knowledge or insight (or foresight for that matter, not being already aware of what a magical safe-house entailed…).

But for now, she wanted to find her room and rest for a while, just for a few minutes, to gather her frayed nerves together before she confronted him again – after all, she had walked out on him and slammed the door, to boot.

She shuddered as she imagined his insults – uncivilized muggle, Granger.. any one of decent parentage would know not to walk out on others – and slamming doors? Clearly you're a deranged, you should be strapped up in a strait jacket, for everyone's safety…

She snorted, and tripped over the stair once more.

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