Bittersweet and Strange

Hermione followed Narcissa Malfoy through the bustling turns of Diagon Alley, trying to keep her mouth from hanging open in shock. She didn't dare try to run away; Augustus Sparrow had pounded it into her head that escape was impossible due to a charm he had placed on her. Besides, her wand had been taken from her, and she knew very little wandless magic. The future seemed bleak already.

She had been bought as a slave by Narcissa Malfoy. The thought hardly even seemed possible. She was to be a slave for the mother of one of the most wretched persons she had ever met. To her credit, Narcissa had not said a single word to Hermione yet, allowing Sparrow to make the necessary arrangements and then motioning for Hermione to follow her. Hermione was grateful for that; she needed a while longer to process the situation in her mind.

Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione knew very little about the woman, other than the fact that she was a Pureblood and proud of it. She had been married to Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater, and was the younger sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, the most ruthless woman Hermione had ever met. Besides, if Narcissa had raised a disgusting scum such as Draco Malfoy, Hermione wasn't sure that much good could be said about her. And now Hermione was her slave, bought and paid for. She cringed. Hopefully Narcissa would just give her housework to do and not make her accompany the witch out in public like some prized possession. She wanted to at least stay busy until the Order came for her.

The Order. I should have listened to them, Hermione couldn't help but think. They told me not to come alone. The thought depressed her, but she tried to think logically. This mission had been no different than dozens of other missions she had undertaken in the past. In fact, compared to sneaking Penelope Clearwater out of Antonin Dolohov's mansion – a task Hermione had done singlehandedly – rescuing Dennis from a public slave pavilion seemed like child's play. She wasn't sure what had gone wrong, but she attributed it mostly to a set of unlikely coincidences. Parvati had accidentally enchanted her features to resemble those of some poor muggleborn on the run. Well, Hermione thought, I guess some good will come out of this if the real Amelia Finberry is thought to be captured. At least someone would be aided.

Narcissa nodded to a woman in a pointed hat standing outside the entrance of Flourish and Blotts, obviously not intending to speak to her. However, the woman was determined and strode toward them. "Narcissa!" she exclaimed in a shrill voice, holding out her hands in greeting.

Hermione thought she saw Narcissa grimace slightly before turning and greeting the woman with an equally polite smile. "Camille Nott. How nice to see you."

"And you!" Camille replied. "How is that new rose bush doing?"

"It's fine. I doubt that autumn was the best time to buy it, but I'm sure it will bloom next spring. I'll take good care of it till then."

"I'm sure you will," Camille replied sweetly. "I've always thought –" She stopped short, noticing Hermione standing behind Narcissa for the first time. "Narcissa!" she exclaimed again. "You bought a slave! How charming!"

Narcissa nodded patronizingly. "Yes, she's the first one I've bought. I've had my qualms about it, you know – buying and selling human beings seems a bit primeval – but –"

"Oh, Narcissa, they're just Mudbloods!" Camille laughed. "They're barely people at all."

Hermione stiffened, not taking her eyes off the other woman. If she had only had her wand, she would have hexed that imperious gossip until her head spun.

Narcissa nodded, still looking vaguely disturbed. "I know, Camille, it's just –"

"There's no question about it! They're inferior, Narcissa, worthless and inferior. Why, I'd love to have someone to do my housework for me, but my husband won't let me have one in the house. He says it's too dangerous, since they could steal your things or even murder you in the night! Filthy muggles don't need magic to make your life miserable. Ah, if only we still had house-elves. It's a shame they all died with the Order."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, praying that Narcissa would end the conversation quickly, before Hermione lost her temper and told Camille Nott exactly what she thought. However, she couldn't risk being recognized. Who knew what kinds of people were in Diagon Alley? Seven years of a hard life had weathered Hermione's face, but she would still be recognizable to someone who had seen her enough in the past.

"Yes," Narcissa agreed quickly. "I know what you mean. Well, I'd best be on my way. It's been –"

Camille stepped in front of Narcissa. "Wait! Let me have a look at her first."

"Camille, I really –" Narcissa began.

"It'll only take a second." Camille circled Hermione slowly, looking her up and down. She peered her pointed face right into Hermione's grabbing her chin and twisting her head to the side. "Well, she looks like a strong little thing, doesn't she?" Narcissa didn't answer. Camille motioned for Hemione to turn around, and Hermione grit her teeth as she obeyed. Don't make a spectacle, she thought to herself. Just grin and bear it.

"It's a good thing my boy Theodore didn't see her," Camille finally said. "She's just his type, you know. Why, he bought a girl just a few months ago. Looked a lot like this one. Longer hair, a little curvier, but still a good resemblance. He had his fun with her, let me tell you," she said, giving Narcissa a sly look. "He eventually sold her to Benedict Goyle, but he's been looking for another one. Better not let him see this one, Narcissa. You might find yourself out a slave."

Narcissa tried to hide her impatience behind a smile. "Thank you, Camille. I'll keep an eye on her. Now –"

"What are you going to use her for?" Camille shrilled. Hermione wished they could just leave already.

Narcissa sighed. "Well, housework mostly, probably. I might have her run errands every now and then, but she'll probably be an indoor slave for the most part." Camille nodded absently, and Narcissa took her opportunity. "Well, Camille, it's been good to see you. Tell Thomas hello."

Camille nodded and smiled back. "I'll do that. Good luck with your slave!"

Narcissa waved goodbye to her as she left, and then she and Hermione began walking again. Hermione hoped Camille didn't come for a lot of visits to Malfoy Manor; she didn't think she could stand to have to put up with her any more.

They walked in silence for a while, Hermione trying to come up with some way to escape but coming up empty. There really seemed to be nothing to do but wait for the Order to realize something had gone wrong.

Hermione didn't realize Narcissa was talking to her for a few moments. She snapped out of her thoughts and asked, "Ma'am?"

"I said, how long has it been since you were captured, Amelia Finberry?"

Small talk? Well, it's better than cruelty, Hermione thought.

"Um, I was actually just captured this afternoon," Hermione told her, trying to make her voice sound a little different.

Narcissa nodded. "Well, it's a good thing I came by, then. Theodore Nott just passed us, and it looks like he's on his way to the slave pavilion."

Hermione glanced behind them, but she couldn't distinguish any one person from the rest of the tangled mess of witches and wizards. "I see."

There was another long pause of silence, and Hermione didn't dare speak first to Narcissa. Finally, the older woman spoke again. "I suppose I might as well tell you now." Hermione raised her head curiously as Narcissa stopped and turned to face her. Her hard blue eyes gazed at Hermione seriously, and she took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say. "I didn't buy you for myself, Amelia Finberry. I bought you for my son, Draco."

Hermione knew the look of horror on her face must have been apparent, for Narcissa cleared her throat and looked at the ground. Draco Malfoy? She was to be the slave of Draco Malfoy? The boy who had tormented her all through school, who had killed Dumbledore and joined the Death Eaters? Surely the hint of compassion she had seen in Narcissa would not allow her to turn a poor muggleborn slave over to such a ruthless monster. Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes.

Narcissa looked back at her with determination. "I'm sure this comes as a surprise to you, but, under the circumstances, I thought it best not to tell Mrs. Nott the truth."

Hermione looked away. Could this really be happening?

"I think a bit of company will be good for him," Narcissa declared.

What, does he not get enough company from the people he murders? Hermione thought. She didn't respond.

Narcissa tried again. "He's very lonely. I was with him just this morning, and he was in a state I haven't seen him in for a long time. He has no one to keep him company, alone in that house, and I can only see him once a week. No Pureblood witches will have anything to do with him, and though I would rather him keep more –" she hesitated, "– reputable company, the only way I can think of to give him someone to be with is to get him a slave. He won't be happy about this, but, well…" She trailed off.

Hermione was puzzled. "Mrs. Malfoy, I don't mean to sound impertinent, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Narcissa looked up in surprise. "You mean, you don't know of the curse?"

Hermione shook her head. Amelia Finberry, on the run as she was, probably was out of touch with the Wizarding World gossip. Besides, Hermione was genuinely curious; she knew nothing about any curse on Draco Malfoy.

"Well," Narcissa began. "Lord Voldemort invoked a curse on Draco after a… well, Draco did something that made him angry, so he put a curse on Draco never to be able to leave his home. He has no wand, no magic, and no freedom. Two years ago, I managed to convince Lord Voldemort to allow me to visit him once a week, and his friends, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, come occasionally as well. Since you don't have a wand, you will be able to enter as a muggle and I won't have to clear you through Voldemort, but once you're there, I'll have to bind you to his service. That means you won't be able to leave until he can."

Hermione was stunned. It didn't make sense. Voldemort never kept his enemies alive, yet he had robbed Draco of his freedom and magic and left him alive. Did he want him to suffer for his misdeed? Still, it didn't seem like a usual move on Voldemort's part. She had a thousand questions she wanted to ask, but she decided on the most important one. "When will he be able to leave?"

A conflicted look passed Narcissa's face, and Hermione thought she appeared to be debating on whether or not to tell Hermione something. "He can't," she finally answered. "Draco is trapped in his home for the rest of his life."

Hermione felt the breath being sucked out of her lungs. The rest of his life? Did that mean… she would be trapped there just as long? If she was bound to Draco magically and he was bound to his home, she would be just as much a prisoner as he was! The Order would never be able to rescue her.

Narcissa seemed to sense her anxieties. "If it helps at all, Draco will not mistreat you. He is bitter and angry about his situation, but he is not abusive or mentally deranged. He will give you a place to sleep, food to eat, and work to do. Without magic, he lives much like a muggle, and I'm sure you'll be more comfortable that way. All I ask of you is that you treat him with respect and kindness."

Hermione scowled. "How can I respect someone who hates my kind and has tried to annihilate all the things I love?"

"You'll find that he is not as much of a monster as he seems," Narcissa frowned. "The Wizarding community seems to picture him as a beast, living in a forbidden castle with a terrible curse placed upon him. They treated me with contempt when Lord Voldemort first cursed him, but they seem to have forgotten the issue after five years. If anyone remembers, they simply overlook him and treat me as though I am not related to him. It pains me, but he truly is safer as an image in peoples' minds." She sighed. Narcissa couldn't have been very old, but Hermione suddenly thought she looked haggard, worn down by her troubles.

"I do not ask you to be his lover or his loyal pet," Narcissa said quietly. "I only ask that you keep him company. I fear that he has lost his will to live. He needs someone to talk to. Please, I beg of you; help me save my son."

Hermione couldn't find the words she needed. Narcissa Malfoy was asking her – no, pleading with her – to live with and befriend Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater who was apparently hated by both Voldemort's followers and the Order. It seemed an impossible task. Narcissa had promised that he wouldn't harm her, but Hermione had no guarantee of that. He had hated her for years, and she had no reason to think that had suddenly changed. Would he beat her? Rape her? He could certainly even kill her, with or without magic. She had no wand, no way to defend herself or escape. Two headstrong people with differing opinions and spite for one another sharing a living space for an indefinite period of time seemed to Hermione to be a recipe for trouble.

But, then, what choice did she have? Narcissa legally owned her, and soon she would be magically bound to Draco. Her only chance was to play along with this horrid game and keep her eyes open for an opportunity to escape.

Hermione nodded. "I'll do what I can."

Narcissa straightened, regaining her regal air and turning around again. She walked forward and Hermione followed her. After a few moments of quiet, Hermione ventured, "Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"What if your son doesn't want me?"

"Then I'm afraid he's going to have to swallow his pride. A slave will be good for him. Now, I have a few things to tell you, and I expect you to remember them and obey them. Do you understand?"

Narcissa had returned to her haughty demeanor now, and Hermione suspected that she wouldn't be seeing the tender, desperate side of the woman again for a very long time. "Yes, ma'am," she replied dutifully.

"Draco looks… well, he doesn't look like he used to," Narcissa said tentatively. "He's no monster, as people make him out to be, but his appearance can be… startling, if you aren't used to it. I don't suppose you ever saw him before, but he used to be quite handsome. He still is, it's just… oh, never mind. You'll see him when we get there. As I was saying, under no circumstances are you to mention his appearance. It will only get him riled up, and he can be quite unreasonable when he's angry. When you first see him, don't jump or gasp. If he mentions it to you, politely agree or just don't say anything. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said. It couldn't be too hard. How bad could he really look?

"And another thing," Narcissa continued, never looking back at Hermione as she spoke. "Try to keep him from drinking as much as you can. He tends to drown his sorrows in alcohol, much like his father did, and it makes him unbearable. Don't make him angry but refusing to give him any, but if he asks for a drink, give him water or pumpkin juice. Hopefully, he'll get out of the habit."

"I understand."

"Also, don't try to escape," she said seriously. "There is no way out of the house, and it will only waste your time and energy. Just focus on making his life – and yours, I suppose – as pleasant as possible."

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione wondered if she should cross her fingers behind her back as she said it.

"One more thing." Narcissa whirled around to face Hermione again, and Hermione had to stumble back to keep from bumping into her. "Don't tell him that I have told you any of this, do you understand?" she asked sharply.

Hermione swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

Narcissa softened. "Good. And, Amelia, if Draco mistreats you at all – and I don't think he will – but if he does, tell me when I come and visit him."

Hermione looked at Narcissa curiously. "Yes, ma'am. And thank you," she added.

Narcissa nodded. "You'll find that not all of us believe as Mrs. Nott does."

The house itself was frightening. Years of disrepair had turned the formerly-white stone to a dull gray, giving it an ominous aura. Evening was falling, and the sky behind Hermione was orange and pink in the sunset; the manor, however, seemed to be covered by a black cloud, enveloping the property in darkness. A horrible stench rose up from the ground, and Hermione fought the urge to cover her nose. Enormous black vines adorned with thorns as long as a wand grew up from the foundations of the house and crawled up the walls, effectively blocking every door and window. Hermione took a deep breath. She was suddenly glad for Narcissa's company. She should hate to have to enter the house and meet Draco Malfoy alone.

Narcissa approached the house calmly, showing no signs of being affected by the smell or the off-putting appearance of the building. Hermione trailed behind her, willing Neville or George or Luna to appear and take her back to the Fortress. But she knew they would not come. They wouldn't dare come after her for awhile – at least until they realized she hadn't sent them a Patronus.

Narcissa strode up to the towering front door and tapped the foremost vine with her wand. Hermione watched in amazement as the thorny vines parted, moving up, down, or to the side to clear a path to the door. Narcissa pushed the great door open, and Hermione hurried through. Turning around, she watched as the vines knit back together, forming a dense thicket once more as Narcissa shut the door.

Hermione turned back to stare at the entry hall and felt her jaw dropping once more. It was simpler than Malfoy Manor, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Several oak doors were open, and Hermione could glimpse a sitting room to the left and a dining room to the right. The furniture was small but ornate, and everything seemed to be dark. It wasn't just the colors, either; the whole room seemed to be smothered in darkness. Hermione noted that there were no mirrors visible in any of the rooms.

"I'm afraid Draco isn't a very good housekeeper," Narcissa said, eyeing the dusty corner of the floor. "You'll have your work cut out for you."

Hermione said nothing as she continued staring. A bold stone staircase spiraled to the upstairs, and the upper floor appeared to be as dark as the main floor. Everything was made of stone – the walls, the ceilings, the floors. That will be fun to clean, Hermione said to herself, stifling the urge to roll her eyes.

"Draco!" Narcissa suddenly called. Hermione jumped as Narcissa's voice rang out and echoed off the walls. Hermione suspected that even a whisper would echo in this house.

Narcissa called twice more before they heard footsteps echoing on stone floors upstairs. Draco wasn't dragging his feet, Hermione thought, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry, either. She felt her stomach twist into knots. What would it be like to see Draco again? Would he recognize her? It had been seven years since he had last seen her, and surely he had seen a lot of people during that time. She looked different enough; grief and toil had lined her face and hardened her features. Maybe she stood a chance.

Hermione flinched as she heard him coming down the staircase. The shadows cast from the upstairs obscured him from her view for the most part, but when Narcissa stepped to the side and Draco stood at the base of the steps, it took all of Hermione's strength not to gasp as Narcissa had said.

If she had seen him in a crowd, Hermione would never have recognized Draco Malfoy. He was muvh thinner than she remembered – almost eerily so – and the slump to his shoulders told her that any of his former arrogance was diminished. But his face… his face looked like some sort of macabre painting. Chalky white, jagged scars decorated his skin like lace, crossing over his forehead, cheeks, and nose and slashing across his eyes. The marks trailed down his high collar and even appeared to mar his hands, from what Hermione could see. One scar in particular, winding around his temple and across his nose and jawline, made Hermione cringe. Enemies or not, she wouldn't wish such horrid disfigurement on anyone.

Narcissa stepped toward Draco, seemingly not noticing his scars. Hermione assumed that Narcissa had grown used to the marks, but she didn't see how she ever could.

"Who is that, Mother?" Draco hissed. "You know I can't see anybody."

Narcissa nodded. "I know, dear. But this is different."

"Different how?" he snarled. He turned to face Hermione, and she tried not to shrink under his glare. "Come to stare at my scars, huh? Quite a sight, aren't they? Why don't you step into the light so I can really give you a scare?"

Narcissa frowned. "Draco, please. Amelia, you heard him. Step into the light."

Hermione didn't have a choice. She did as she was told, stepping forward and praying desperately that Draco wouldn't recognize her.

No such luck.

As soon as she was visible, Draco gasped quietly and stepped back, nearly tripping on the bottom step. He sat down heavily, never taking his eyes off her.

"What's the matter, Draco?" Narcissa asked, looking between Draco and Hermione. "Is something wrong?"

Draco moved his lips, but no sound came out. Hermione stood stock-still, hoping against hope that he wouldn't reveal his identity. "Who is that?" he finally croaked.

Narcissa put a hand on his shoulder. "This is Amelia Finberry. She's a muggleborn slave. She was brought in just today."

Draco hardly even seemed to hear his mother. He didn't say a word, just gaped at Hermione. She looked away. His staring was quite uncomfortable.

"She's been on the run," Narcissa ventured. "She's not used to slavery, but –"

"How?" Draco burst out. He was still looking at Hermione.

Narcissa frowned again. "How what, Draco?"

Draco tried to speak again, but his words failed him and he shook his head, finally tearing his eyes away and looking at the floor.

"She's yours, Draco. I got her for you."

Draco looked up at his mother in disbelief. "For me?" he whispered. At Narcissa's hopeful nod, his silence was suddenly broken. Draco leaped to his feet and looked back and forth from Narcissa to Hermione. "For me?!" he shouted. "Mother, I – I can't have a – I mean, I can't –"

"You can," Narcissa broke in. "And you will."

"But I –"

"You were telling me just this morning how lonely you are, Draco! Well, now you don't have to be lonely! You have someone to keep you company!"

"A slave, Mother?" Draco shouted again. "A muggleborn slave?!"

"Yes, Draco. Just because she's muggleborn doesn't mean she can't keep you company. You'll have someone to talk to and… be friends with, and she can help you keep house."

"Keep house?" Draco repeated, sounding catatonic. "Friends? Mother, if the only way I can have company is to force a slave to live with me, then I'd rather be alone!"

"Well, who else is it going to be?" Narcissa demanded, matching Draco's fiery tone. "No Pureblood is going to come, and Voldemort won't allow them, anyway. This is your only option, Draco, take it or leave it!"

"Who said I wanted options?" he growled. "I know for a fact that I could never live with that – that – her!"

"Draco, how can you say that? You don't even know her yet!"

Draco hesitated, glancing at Hermione. "I don't have to know her," he finally said, sounding somewhat calmer. "I don't want her. You keep her, Mother. You need company as much as I do."

"That's not true, Draco," Narcissa said gently. "This will be good for you. I want you to take her."

Draco shook his head slowly, but he found no words and collapsed back onto the stair.

Narcissa continued. "It isn't a death sentence, Draco. If anything, it's the cure to one. You won't have to be lonely anymore. She'll cook and clean for you, and she can help you with any projects you have –"

"I don't have projects," Draco said, his voice muffled by his hands over his head.

"Well, anyway, she'll be company for you. I know this isn't an ideal situation, but it's still an option. If you'll just be good to her, she'll be good to you. Please, Draco, for your sake and mine, just accept it."

There was a long moment of silence, and Hermione could almost hear the fierce conflict in Draco's mind. Finally, he looked up, sighed, and said, "All right, Mother. I'll take her."

Hermione didn't realize that she hadn't said a word since arriving at the house until Narcissa announced that she was leaving. After having placed a charm that bound Hermione to her new master – Hermione cringed at the thought – Narcissa had made sure that all necessary arrangements were in place before gathering her things together. It was already dark outside, and she needed to be getting home, she said. Hermione's stomach churned at the thought of being alone with Draco.

Narcissa left out the front door and Apparated when she was outside the boundaries of the property. Hermione watched her go and shut the door carefully as the thorny vines wove back into their places across the doorway. She took a deep breath and turned around to find Draco quietly staring at her, any previous anger having given way to shock.

She faced him squarely, determined to show him courage. Still, she didn't say a word. What was there to say?

Draco stared at her for another very long moment. Finally, he very quietly asked, "Hermione Granger?"

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. He knew.

"Why didn't you tell her?" she asked after another long pause. "If you knew, what difference would it have made?"

"A great deal of difference," he replied softly. "If Voldemort still thought you were alive, he would stop at nothing to have you dead. I can't believe you weren't recognized in town." When Hermione didn't say anything, he began walking toward her. "Hermione Granger. How are you alive, after all this time of thinking you were dead?"

The calm, gentle tone of his voice surprised her. She hadn't expected this kind of welcome. "I… I'd rather not say." She didn't know how much she could trust him. Ostracized from the Death Eaters or not, there was no chance she was going to mention the Order to him.

Draco simply stared at her, standing mere feet away from her spot near the door. Hermione didn't mind, but she didn't think she would like it if he tried to touch her. "I can't believe you're here," he whispered hoarsely.

Hermione could hardly believe her ears. What was going on? Was this even the same man she had once known? Even though his face had changed, surely his personality couldn't be so different as well.

She cleared her throat. "You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you let on to your mother who I am?"

Draco stared at her for another moment, the shrugged. "I guess I didn't think it would be worth it. You've made it this far; it seems a shame that I should be the one to give you up."

Hermione tried to hide her surprise. "Then you think she would turn me over to Voldemort if she knew?"

"No," Draco replied. "I don't. But the less people that know who you really are, the better. Especially if you're living here." He paused again, then asked, "What did she say your name was?"

"Amelia Finberry," Hermione said. "Some poor muggleborn who will probably end up going off the radar now that they think I'm her."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have to remember to call you that." He took another step forward, but when Hermione stepped back, he stopped. "You're too smart to get caught like this, Granger. How did they ever get hold of you?"

Was he testing her? Seeing how much she would reveal? What was he getting at? "A case of mistaken identity," she finally ventured. "I was pretending to be someone elite, but Augustus Sparrow the slave trader mistook me for Amelia Finberry and sold me as such."

"What were you even doing at the slave market? That slimeball Sparrow is only ever there."

"I – I'd still rather not say," she stuttered. There was no way he would get her to mention Dennis Creevey.

Draco nodded absently. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of her, and his stare was making Hermione uncomfortable. "Would you mind not staring so much?" she finally snapped.

His eyes widened, and he looked away embarrassedly. "Sorry. I just can't believe I'm actually seeing you again."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask him a question, but Draco beat her to it. "You're probably pretty surprised by how I'm acting. It's only been seven years, but those seven years have been rather strange for me. I assume my mother told you about the curse?" Hermione nodded. "Well, it's kind of… let's just say that complete isolation for five years changes a person a lot."

Hermione cautiously nodded. "I can understand that. I've changed a lot, too."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I would imagine. I hardly even recognized you at first, you look so different."

"Well, hardship will do that to you," she smiled slightly. She was dying of curiosity about his scars and what all the curse entailed, but she didn't dare ask – at least not tonight.

"My mother will be by sometime next week," Draco was saying. "I'd probably either be crazy or dead if it wasn't for her. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott come by every once in a while, too. I guess I'll have to hide you whenever they come over; can't have them seeing you…"

He gave Hermione a strange look. "Listen, Granger, if I could set you free, I would. I don't have any use for a slave. I've been doing for myself for five years now; I certainly don't need your help. But as long as you're here, I guess we might as well make the best of it." He swallowed uncomfortably. "You don't have to worry about me trying to… take advantage of you or anything like that. You can have the room on the third floor. Mine's on the second." He looked around, as if trying to think of anything he had missed. "You can go anywhere in the house that you want. You won't be able to go outside as long as you're bound to me, so just do whatever you want. I can make out a list of things for you to do if you want, but it's not necessary. Like I said, I can do pretty well for myself." He gave a small laugh. "I do things more of your muggle way than anything else."

Hermione merely stared at him, floored. Did he actually expect her to trust him? Sure, he seemed different, but it could all be an act. Maybe he was planning to get back in Voldemort's favor by turning her in. That has to be it! she thought.

She certainly couldn't let him know she was onto him, though. She nodded graciously. "Thank you, Draco. I appreciate your kindness. I'll do all I can to make my time here as pleasant as possible."

Draco's eyebrows raised one at a time. That obviously wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. "Ah… all right then. Um, I think I'm going to bed now. It's getting late. Do you want to go, too?"

Hermione nodded, and Draco turned to go up the staircase again. Hermione followed, taking in her surroundings as she climbed higher. The second floor wasn't as fancy as the first floor, but it was blanketed by the same heavy darkness. The third floor was much the same, and Draco pointed her to her room at the end of the hallway. "There it is. If you don't like it, you can pick a different one."

Hermione gave him a half smile. "I'm sure it will be fine. Thank you."

Draco ducked his head as he started back for the staircase. "Yeah. Well, I, uh… I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

Hermione could hear Draco's footsteps echoing on the stone floors as he descended the stairs and went to his own room. When she was sure he was gone, Hermione crept into her room, looking around cautiously for any trick that might be waiting for her. Finding none, she surveyed her surroundings. It was a modest but comfortable-looking room, with a twin bed, a nightstand, a chest of drawers, and a lampstand. There was a single window, but it was screened by the heavy thorns outside.

Hermione suddenly wished that she had some of her own belongings to decorate the room with, or even her own clothes to fold in the chest of drawers. It felt more like a prison cell than a bedroom, and as she curled up in her bed that night, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, Hermione could only pray that it would be temporary rather than a permanent lifestyle. She honestly didn't think she could bear that.

A/N: Hi, guys! Thanks so much for reading chapter 2. You'll never know how much it means. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, tell me what you liked and what else you'd like to see in the comments section. If you didn't like it, let me know what your thoughts are and I'll do my best to work with it. Reviews are my writing oxygen!

Shameless advertisement: Do me a favor and check out by story, "Booked for the Evening." It's more what I'm used to writing, a lighthearted oneshot. It's Dramione, so if you're enjoying this story, you'll probably enjoy that one. Again, thanks so much for reading, and I'll see you all soon with a new chapter!