Chapter Four

"Granger, wake up."

Hermione lifted her head, blinking groggily. Malfoy sat next to her on the floor, his lips pressed into a frown, staring at something in the corner of the room. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, yawning loudly, looking to see what Malfoy was staring at. On a table pressed against the wall, was a large box wrapped in silver paper. There was a dark blue ribbon tied into a perfect bow atop it.

"I think that's your present," Malfoy said.

Hermione pressed her back against the wall, the pane of the window digging into her neck. "I'm not going to open it."

Malfoy's gray eyes flashed with surprise. "Why not?"

"I have no idea what it is," she stared blankly at it, "therefore I'm not willing to take the risk."

After a long pause, Malfoy said, "fine." She thought the conversation was over with, but Malfoy was pushing to his feet and striding towards the table, a look of determination on his face.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, "what're you doing?"

"I'm opening this package."

She pushed to her feet, "Malfoy, don't."

"I want to know what he's sending you."

She stopped just behind him, peering over his shoulder as he began to untie the ribbon. "Malfoy, what if it's dangerous."

"He wants us to perform in his play, remember? Whatever it is, it won't do any lasting damage."

Hermione watched as he pulled the ribbon away and began to tear at the paper. A large white box was revealed. Malfoy brushed the paper away and stopped just as he was about to lift the lid. He turned to Hermione. "I don't have to open it if you don't want to."

His thoughtfulness was uncharacteristic and it surprised Hermione so much she stared at him blankly for a long moment. "Open it," she said.

Malfoy lifted the lid and set it on the ground. Inside, wrapped in crinkly tissue paper, was a red dress. Velvet, like the one she'd slept in, sleeveless and so low cut it made her blush just to think about wearing it.

"He's sending us costumes now," Malfoy said bitterly, "what next?"

Hermione stared down at the dress, tugging on one of her frizzy curls, thinking. "Malfoy," she said, "do you know the time?"

His eyes immediately went to his empty wrist. He frowned, "son of a bitch stole my watch," he muttered before looking around the room. "Sorry Granger, I don't think we're privy to that information."

"How long do you think we've been here?"

"A day, at least," he frowned, "where are you going with this, Granger?"

"How long do you think it'll take them to send someone after us?" She lifted the dress carefully from the box, the fabric unfolding slowly. "A day?"

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, "I suppose the minute we didn't arrive at Hogwarts. Pothead and Weasel are sure to have missed you."

"Don't call them that."

"And why not?" He drawled, turning to walk towards the bed. He fell onto the end of it, forearms resting along his thighs as he stared at her, "it's not as if we're mates. I'm sure they've said worse about me," he sneered. "Self righteous, every last one of you."

"You've given them plenty of reason to!" Hermione shot back. "You've given me plenty of reason to! Your derogatory name calling alone-"

"Get over it, Granger," he sneered.

She wanted to wipe that smug expression off of his face with her fist. Anger twisting in her stomach, she snapped hatefully, "Of all people, why did I have to end up here with you."

"Believe me, Granger, you are the last person I want to be stuck with."

Hermione glowered at him, but not wanting to continue the arguing she instead focused her attention on the dress in her hands. She pulled it from the box and a card hidden within the folds of fabric. Malfoy was there in an instant, plucking the card from the ground before Hermione was able. She caught a glimpse of showy black script on the creamy card. "What does it say."

"For my Juliet," Malfoy read, "A pretty dress for a pretty doll. Rehearsals begin today."

"That's all it says?"

Malfoy handed her the card. "You going to change now?" His eyes slithered down her body. His moods were jumping too quickly for Hermione; he was probably just trying to make her uncomfortable. Hermione pulled the dress towards herself, cheeks flushing.

"No," her voice was clipped. He smirked at her, white locks falling into his silver eyes, pleased with himself.

"Have you got anything better to do than leer at me?" she snapped.

"I have nothing but time," he said in a dark tone.

She tossed the dress towards the box. It ended draped over the table in a rumpled heap. Malfoy raised a silver eyebrow. "That'll wrinkle."

"As if I care," she came to a stop in front of him, "we need to figure a way out of here."

He raised his eyes to her face. "Obviously," he drawled. "Now the real question is," he leaned backwards, "have you got any ideas."

"Not at present," she turned towards the window, "but we need one as soon as possible. Can you do any wandless magic?"

"Never possessed the ability," Malfoy's head tilted to the side as he appraised her, "but I'm sure that you do."

Hermione folded her arms, the velvet stretching across her shoulders. "I haven't had much luck with it," she said, frustrated. "But I can do simple spells. Nothing useful at the moment."

"Teach me."

Her eyebrow rose, "I just told you my abilities are limited."

"And mine are nonexistent," he stood, towering over her. "So teach me. It'll give you practice and you'll have my help."

"There's a chance we'll only be able to manage simple charms."

"Something is better than nothing."

"Draco Malfoy, the optimist," Hermione mused, "words I'd thought I'd never say."

He smirked in response.

There was a clap of thunder outside the window and rain began to pelt the window. The room was dropping in temperature, as if a draft was escaping into the mansion. Hermione pulled her arms tighter around herself. Malfoy strode past her towards the window, stopping to stare out at the rain, at the overgrown lawn and surrounding trees. "Where do you think he's brought us."

"I believe we're still in England."

Malfoy made a hmm noise, staring at the glass thoughtfully.

"I'm concerned about the wards."

He looked at her over his shoulder. "Do go on."

"If this mansion is unplottable, no one's going to find us," Hermione said. "But that would imply that the man that kidnapped us was intelligent."

"What is it you're suggesting we do?"

Hermione pulled her hair up off of her face, "I think we need to be cooperative."

"Like with the kiss."

Her cheeks turned pink. She cleared her throat, then said, "precisely. We have no idea what we're dealing with; this man is obviously mad, but we have no idea what lengths he's willing to go to keep us in check. He has no problem using unforgivables. We need to prevent that as much as possible."

"And in the meantime?"

"We try to go for his wand."

Malfoy frowned. "He'll be expecting that Granger."

"Of course he will," she said, "but if we are cooperative, it might make him less suspicious."

"And how do you suggest we go about it?"

The floorboards outside the door creaked as someone moved outside the room. Both froze. The knob turned slowly, the door swinging open. In the doorway stood their captor. He was wearing a different mask this time; the old doctor mask was terrifying, the beak long and curving downwards.

Malfoy whispered a soft curse from next to her, staring at the man in horror.

"Hello puppets," the man's voice crooned, muffled by the mask. "Are you ready for rehearsals?"