Finally, one of them stirred.

"We have to go back." Draco murmured; his face still pressed into Hermione's hair.

She sighed, loathe to tear herself from the safety of his embrace. Then she told herself she must be strong, this was his bogeyman, not hers. She pulled herself away from him and placed her hand against the side of his face. Even worried his skin seemed magnetic, and she caught herself from being drawn into him. They needed to go back. Still, it almost hurt her soul to drop her hand and start walking back toward the house.

"C'mon." She whispered, suddenly afraid to speak too loudly, as if that would alert something in the shadows to their presence. He reached out and took her hand and her heart leapt as she gazed at him, her eyes shining with as much love as conviction. "Together." She said and he squeezed her hand, his expression rapturous like a man in the presence of something he has deemed celestial.

It had seemed that they had walked a long way before they were back in the kitchen. They hurried through a connecting passageway and through a room Hermione could only describe as a butler's pantry before suddenly Draco pushed open a huge wooden door and Hermione was swept into the largest room she had ever seen.

Ostensibly, it was dining room, but it looked like it had been designed for a gothic king or perhaps a medieval warlord. The whole room was made out of gleaming, high polished wood. The floors and walls were smooth, shining brilliantly. The ceiling, like the furniture below it was carved wood, carved into shapes and figures that Hermione was too overwhelmed to parse what exactly they were. Dim light cast dramatic shadows against each item in the room, making even the familiar sight of Hermione's mother's pie look distinctly foreign. Cissy was already there, setting down the last item on the table.

"Right on time." She said, taking her seat to the right of the head of the table. Draco sat across from his mother after pulling out Hermione's chair beside him. An air of tension seemed to permeate the room, and Hermione was suddenly conscious of the sound of her own breathing. Nervously, she reached for Draco's hand beneath the table and wound her fingers through his, ignoring how cold his hands suddenly were. It feels like I'm awaiting my own execution she thought wryly. The seconds seemed to pass by thickly, as if they were swimming in syrup. Cissy gazed vacantly at the feast displayed on the table. Hermione thought of complementing how much work the meal must have taken Cissy, anything to break this weird scene.

As she opened her opened her mouth to speak, a door on the other end of the dining room opened and Hermione had to stop herself from letting out a scream. Not that there was anything in particular to scream about, the man was tall and thin with Draco's pale blond hair; but the aura that surrounded him seemed like a swirling storm, a magnetic field that would destroy anything that drew too close to him. He swept toward them, his face a thundercloud, but as he drew near, he paused and something miraculous happened. As he caught sight of Hermione it was as if the storm parted. His entire energy changed, the storm evaporated and was replaced with a sunny day.

"And now who is this?" He cried, his tone downright jovial. Hermione was so shaken she gazed at him blankly. Luckily, Draco was a little faster on the uptake.

"This is Hermione dad, she's my girlfriend." Hermione gazed at him adoringly at this, and Draco's dad laughed.

"When a girl looks at you like that, you better hang onto her son." Then directing his attention to Hermione he gave her a hearty handshake and sat down. "I'm Lucius, but most people call me Mal. Old hold out from my college days I'm afraid." He surveyed the food. "This looks fantastic Cissy, as usual." Cissy seemed to take this as a cue to begin serving, and for a little while the table was quiet as everyone enjoyed the sumptuous meal before them. It was only after Cissy had cut the pie, and Mal had thoroughly complimented Hermione and her mother, that conversation began in earnest again.

By the time that Hermione was walking back toward the car with Draco, gravel crunching underfoot, she felt as if she had completed a very friendly though also very thorough cross examination. She sighed with relief as she settled herself into the passenger seat.

"Well," she began as Draco started down the drive, "that went better than I thought." Draco was silent. "I mean he seemed really happy for us." She pushed. Draco was still quiet, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "The way you talk about him, I was expecting him to freak out. Like some kind of Dracula or something." She laughed, but her laugh was cut short as Draco suddenly swerved into a gas station. He parked and turned to look at her and she could see that his eyes were filled with fear. She sighed, suddenly feeling very tired.

"What, baby, what is it now?" She asked, perhaps more provocatively than she might have intended. In a moment she regretted her flippant tone, his face crumbled, and he almost recoiled from her. He threw the car back into drive and peeled out of the gas station. "Draco!" She almost screamed, but he was possessed. A dark energy had overtaken him, that magnetic force that seemed to consume his father earlier that night. "Draco, slow down, listen to me." She begged, pulling frantically at his arm. Still he raced on through the night, keeping his face turned from her, leaving her with the weird vision of racing into the night at the mercy of a faceless man hellbent on mutually assured destruction. "Draco, we need to talk about this." She said, suddenly more angry than fearful. He slammed on the brakes and she pitched forward, caught by her seatbelt.

"Not now." Draco said quietly and unlocked the car doors. Hermione looked out the window and realized they were outside her house. It looked almost foreign with it's hanging plants swinging softly on the porch, silhouetted against the kitchen light that spilled out across the yard. Her mother must be waiting up for her. She looked back at Draco, but he was still resolutely not looking at her.

"We need to talk. Tomorrow? Holland Coffee at the usual time?" She asked. He nodded almost imperceptibly. She sighed, and reached out to softly caress his blond head. "I love you, Draco. I mean that. I wish you would let me in, let me see things the way you do. I want to understand." She kissed his fingers and with a final squeeze to his hand she got out of the car.

Her mother was indeed waiting for her inside. She gave her mother the positive highlights of her night and then kissed her goodnight.

Upstairs in her room, she changed into her nightgown and washed her face, but she was on autopilot. Her mind felt so jumbled she felt as though she couldn't focus on anything. It was a relief to slip into bed and turn out the light. Even her prayers seemed confused that night.

That night Hermione dreamt of Draco. Her body entwined with his, his lips against her neck, her fingers in his blond hair. Then suddenly he leaned back, and Hermione realized in horror it was not Draco at all by Mal. He smiled at her like the devil and Hermione screamed.

She shot up in bed and shivered, a wave of revulsion washing over her. She flopped back against her pillows, shaking with relief, her body cold and clammy. This whole thing was getting to her. Sleep did not return easily that night and Hermione was relieved when the first fingers of dawn began to filter into her bedroom.