To all you lovely people who reviewed, much thanks. :-) There is much rejoicing when i see that i've gotten another review. Anyway, this chapter is a bit more angsty than the previous few.

Hope you like. Happy Reading

March 6th

Hermione drug her gaze from the surreal beauty in front of her and turned her eyes back to the letter she was writing to Harry. She had already sent a letter to Ron, assuring him that she was being fed regularly and that Malfoy hadn't made any advances on her. She had smiled happily at the unbridled worry in his letter.

Harry however had been a bit more adult in his questions, he wondered what Malfoy's parents had been like, whether or not they were being unkind or haughty.

They had been… strained.

February 22nd

Hermione and Draco had apparated just inside the large wrought iron gates; there was no evidence that months prior this had been the nest of the Dark Lord.

Hermione had been slightly taken aback at the difference that was there. Of course, there was still the feeling of old money. Of Pureblood.

"Are you coming?" her husband asked arrogantly. He had affected a face of irritation, but in fact, he had enjoyed her face of amazement and slight rapture at the sight of his ancestral home. Enjoyed the light as it played across eyes that he had always regarded as unremarkable and commonplace.

Now they looked almost golden like honey. Her think hair hung in a braid down her back, little wispy tendrils coming loose around her face. Her dress made her look older, more mature, and the blue suited her perfectly.

She had turned from her taking in of the grounds and had caught him staring.

"Something on my face?" she asked, frowning.

Draco Malfoy was caught off guard for the first time in a long time.

"Um… no. I was just making sure you were… presentable."
Hermione blushed and her frown deepened, and then disappeared as if she had wiped the expression off.

"And what did you decide?" sheasked woodenly, slightly disappointed. She thought that she looked rather good today, as this was a new dress from Madame Malkin's.

It had cost much more than she would ever have spent before. But at her objections, he had merely waved them aside and told Madame Malkin herself to package it along with everything else that they had looked at.

"Perfect," he uttered, his back turned to her, he heard her stop moving behind him and hurriedly added, "As you ever will be."

That was more like it. She thought, her thoughts calming and they had moved into the house.

It hadn't really been as bad as she'd thought. Lucius had regarded her with a sharp gaze and few words. He looked as disdainful as ever, but there was a hint of defeat and weariness behind his arrogant gray eyes. Hermione had noticed that everyone that had lived through the last battle had a look. Whether Good or Death Eater. It was a look of innocence lost.

Or perhaps, perceptions lost.

Draco's mother looked frail and old, even though her beauty was striking. She was kind, if shallow, to her new daughter-in-law. They had awkwardly embraced and had not spoken about the rushed wedding and tactfully ignored the elephant in the room, that the marriage law was the only reason that they were stuck with her.

Mrs. Malfoy complimented her gown and Hermione had dimpled, automatically thanking her.

Narcissa led the way upstairs making small talk with Hermione while Draco and Lucius talked of business matters.

"This will be your wing," the older woman said, smiling faintly and nostalgically. "The master suite is at the end of the hall, and there are 12 other rooms that you may use for anything, including guests,"

The rooms were beautiful, tastefully decorated in a variety of styles. Hermione was overawed and commented on the decorations.

Narcissa (showing some of the happy energy that she had had before Lord Voldemort had taken control of her life and family all those years ago) happily discussed the decorations and had informed Hermione that she would have to decorate the Master Suite to hers and Draco's tastes as soon as they got settled in as it was the tradition of the family.

Hermione had almost said that she and Draco would not be sharing a bedroom when she caught Draco's glance, he had momentarily looked up from his discussion, his fleeting look said nothing.

"Thank you Mrs. Malfoy," she said kindly and smiled.

"Call me Narcissa, dear," the blonde woman replied and then grabbed her husband's arm and swept out of the long hall, closing the door that secluded that wing from the rest of the house. Hermione found her things unpacked in the master bedroom, the window was long and wide, showing the beautiful grounds at their best. It was perhaps the best view in the house.

Draco entered.

"I'll get my stuff out," Hermione said quickly.

"No. I'll take the adjoining room. You're the bride, and you are new to this house. Take this room." He expected to be agreed with, and as much as it bugged Hermione to be ordered about, this view was almost worth it.

"And Granger-" His face twisted slightly, as if he were having some sort of inner battle with himself. "Thank..." He steadied himself. "Thank you for not... offering information to my parents."

June 3rd

Therefore, a week and then a month went by in Malfoy Manor. Lucius was almost never at home, or in the same room as Hermione when he was home.

Narcissa was surprisingly kind, and Hermione passed her days by exploring the grounds and the house.

That night, dinner passed in slight discomfiture, as usual.

Hermione excused herself as soon as was prudent.

She slipped through the huge doorway, stopping as she heard a voice rise in a familiar drawl.

"Really Draco, wasn't there anyone else that you could have chosen?"
"Father."
"No Draco, I mean, even Mudbloods are occasionally attractive, but you have managed to find the only complete exception."

"Father." Draco's voice was filled with cold steel.

"She is utterly plain."
"Be quiet, father!" Draco shouted, his gray eyes blazing. "She is my wife, and you will treat her as such. "

"Such vehemence over your little Mudblood? Do I detect attraction, maybe even, regard in my only son's voice?"
Hermione listened with bated breath, unable to see Draco pull back, his gray eyes veiled again.

"That is irrelevant, Father. But I will know if you are unkind to her. And you will watch your tongue, unless your only wish is to ruin my life as thoroughly as you have ruined your own. " Draco watched his father recoil at the insult, and continued. "She is a Malfoy now, that used to mean something, even to you. I am hoping that she will bring something into this house, something that has been bred out of our family." Draco turned to his mother. "Thank you" and they both knew as to what he was talking about.

Hermione ran upstairs and into her room, hearing her husband stomp to his adjoining bedroom.

Nothing had prepared her for his actions. In all reality, he should have mocked her along with his parents.

Nevertheless, he had defended her. Praised her even, in his own roundabout way.

What was this supposed to mean? What did it mean?

June 7th

Later that week she awoke in the night, unable to sleep with all the thoughts in her mind and confusion in her heart, she silently padded down the dark halls, years of sneaking about with Ron and Harry at Hogwarts giving her practice

At some point during her wanderings, Hermione discovered the passageway that led to the lower levels of the Manor.

Something, some memory sparked in her mind. She frowned into the darkness, trying to remember what would not come.

Then it hit her, a time in her life that she had locked away for the terribleness of it.

"CRUCIO!" roared the cruel woman, her eyes dancing with twisted merriment.

Hermione screamed in terror as immeasurable pain rocketed through every bone, every muscle, and every pore.

It was the kind of pain that drove every thought from her head until the only thing left was the hurt and anguish, living through it, if she could even do that.

It stopped as sudden as it came, and there was that trilling laugh again.

"Is the know-it-all crying?" She asked in her baby voice, running a black fingernail under Hermione's eyes and through her tears. The nail was sharp, and bit deep into the soft flesh along Hermione's cheekbone.

Bellatrix smiled happily and licked the blood from her nail.

"Tell me where you got the sword, mudblood!"

Hermione's lungs felt like they were on fire but she managed to gasp out her answer.

"We… FOUND it!"

"OH no, little baby needs a spanking! CRUCIO!" She yelled again, twirling her wand and cackling madly as Hermione's scream rose to the ceiling,

Hermione fell to the floor sobbing as memories fled her, leaving her alone and broken, unable to stop the fear and ghostly pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

Strong arms encircled her, and she panicked and began to fight violently.

"Granger!" the terse voice said into her ear. "For Merlin's sake, Granger, STOP IT!"

"We found it!" she pleaded into the dark. "Please stop!" She struck out in the dark unseeing and unfeeling except for what was in her mind, She caught Draco under the eye, continually begging for the pain to end. He growled angrily and tightened his grip.

"Bloody, hold still, Hermione. Stop, it's okay now," he soothed into her ear, feeling her quiet almost immediately at her name.

"We found it," she wept into his shirt, clinging to him in a fear-laden grip. Without thinking, he ran his hand along her hair, crooning soft comforts into her ear, feeling her sob into his shirt, the hotness of her tears onto his skin. "Don't let her hurt me." Came her muffled voice. "Please don't let her hurt me."

Merlin she's shaking. Draco thought, pulling the light jacket that he was wearing and slid it over her shoulders. It dwarfed her small frame and could be easily tucked around her.

He felt revulsion at the terrors that she had gone through, remembering the pain that his aunt had put her through.

He had done nothing when she was being tortured to death, the always-strong Hermione Granger was allowing him to hold her to his chest.

"I won't," he said surely, his lips touching her ear. "They won't hurt you ever again. I promise."
Over an hour went by as he held her and let her cry against him, but she never questioned his promise again.

When she seemed to run out of tears, he moved and picked her up easily, carrying her up the master bedroom and placing her gently on the bed. Her heinously ugly cat watched him impassively, and for the first time did not hiss. He was always a little unnerved by the cat, as it always seemed to be more sentient than a cat should be.

Nevertheless, it did nothing, glancing at its mistress and then the pale blond standing next to her. With a miniscule sniff, it curled up once and sat with its paws tucked under its chest. Watching him critically, as if daring him to try to mess with her.

Moving to walk away, he heard her whimper slightly in response to their sudden lack of contact. He sighed, pulled one of the large overstuffed chairs to the edge of the bed and slid his hand into hers. She quieted immediately and dropped into a deeper sleep, her face relaxing into a dreamlike expression.

He sat and played her terror struck face in his mind, knowing that she should hate him. And against his will, he fell asleep.

Hermione's face felt stiff, her eyelids were grimy and hard. She remembered very little of the night before, only that she had gotten up in the night, then, the painful memories came.

However, this time without taking her over. She had not known that they would affect her thus.

It was okay now. She was safe - she was safe.

There was hardly any light in her room; the drapes were still pulled tightly shut. The fire snapped and crackled warmly across the vicinity. She shifted slightly, feeling the unfamiliar soft leather wrapped around her and the warm press of a hand in hers.

Her eyes darted to the blond head leaned up against the back of the large overstuffed chair next to the bed. Then to her hand still tightly clasped in his much larger one.

She was only allowed a moment of thought before his wide gray eyes flicked open, tightening as they fell upon her pale face. His hand was removed from around hers instantly.

"Feeling better, Granger?"

She stared blearily at him, taking in the large blackish bruise around his eye.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, eagerly avoiding the fact that he may have been kind to her.

"You went downstairs," he said with a slight sneer. "Why were you downstairs in the middle of the night?"
She closed her eyes painfully, feeling the aftereffects of great emotional strain.

"I couldn't sleep."
Her voice was so small; it grated on his emotions forcing him to put up more walls or else actually deal with what had happened the prior night

"You didn't know that that was where..."

"No," she replied tearfully, hating herself for the weakness in her heart.

"You shouldn't have gone around the house without a guide," he replied, sounding harsher than he'd meant to.

"I know," she assented demurely, very unlike her. He watched as tears seeped out from under her eyelids.

"It's alright," he replied instantly, wanting to keep her from crying anymore as it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. "Just don't do it again."
She nodded, still without opening her eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked suddenly.

"I found you after you…" His words dropped off, his eyes broke contact with her teary face.

"How did I get up here?"

"I brought you up."
Her mind wanted to dwell on this tidbit of information, but she forced herself to move on

"And you stayed?"
"You wouldn't let me leave." The derisive tone had slunk back into his voice.

Hermione almost wished she could blush, just to relieve the shame that flooded through her.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

"Don't be," he commanded instantly. "You couldn't help it."

A long pause intermittent with sound from the fireplace, and of Crookshank's purr as he cleaned himself.
"Did I do that?" She asked abruptly; he found her eyes opened and on him once again.

He stared at her nonplussed until she lifted her hand and pointed at the swelling around his eye. He lifted his hand to his eye and winced when his fingers encountered the damage.

"You couldn't help it," he repeated, feeling the extent of the problem, which was over an inch around his eye. It looked like a small black sun.

"It was so real," she whispered to no one in particular.

He stood and made his way to the door, knowing that with dawn came the responsibilities of life. Not that he wished he could stay with her… but there were some times in life when he wished that he could revert to the self-serving days of his youth. Where the world was black and white, his father was always right, Potter and Co. was the enemy and those who weren't his friends were his enemies.

Apparently, life in itself enjoys throwing all such perceptions out the window and Draco Malfoy was one of those left to reinvent his worldview. After 18 brief years, he didn't know what to think anymore.

His family – which had once been the most powerful and influential Pureblood unit in the Magical World - had been reduced in two short years to outcasts, traitors and was hated by most for their ties to the Dark Lord's failed return. He was a forced and un-official exile.

Draco suddenly knew how the minorities of the wizard world had once felt. He at once pitied his former teacher and werewolf Remus Lupin.

Draco had secretly enjoyed his lessons thoroughly, he had been one of the only teachers who had actually taught something during their Defense Against Dark Arts classes, but the prejudice instilled in him had prevented him from enjoying the classes like he should have. Now he sort of understood what the man had gone through his entire life, except Professor Lupin had done nothing to deserve the hate he was given.

Draco did.

The young Malfoy did not know what he would do to help his family name and he knew that he would not attempt to right all of his wrongs. There was too much for that, and he was quite certain that he was not a hero.

A villain and a coward perhaps, but he was no hero.

A cowardly villain. His mind mocked. You couldn't even do that right.
Nevertheless, he would attempt to follow the example of the only man that he had ever trusted, perhaps the man that he truly considered his father. Do perhaps what he could, to make his way in the world in the only way he knew how.

Severus Snape had been a brave man, the only true hero among his fellow cowards.

And looking over at the girl lying on the bed, his wife. He knew what he should do.

-plays ominous music loudly in the background-

SSSSSOOOOOOO? did you like it? Any questions, any comments?? ANYTHING?? :-P tried to keep it as in character as i possibly could... and for those of you who don't want Draco rushing into Hermione's arms professing his undying love for her... then i made you pretty happy. This was more a guilt ridden draco than a madly-in-love-with-his-enemy Draco.

I only made Hermione a little weepy and weak cause i was thinking that she would still have ALOT of residual feelings about her torture at the hand of bellatrix. I never thought that Ms. Rowling (DESPITE HER AMAZINGNESS) gave enough time to that.

um um um... i don't think that there were any questions here... but if there were, please leave them in my review box, or PM me.

As always, a wondrous thanks to my beta reader Alix33. Who is awesome and made of win :-)

Later Gators, (and other various, animals, vegetables and minerals)

Red