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Chapter 30

Draco dragged her up the stairs to his room, or she assumed it was his room. The entire room reeked of Slytherin. The furniture was all dark wood and gothic, every inch of fabric was velvet green or black and silver elements were added. Hermione expected him to throw her to the floor and kick her even bloodier than she already was but he didn't. He walked her over to a green velvet sofa and sat her down carefully. Turning around and muttered some spells Hermione recognized as silencing spells and protective enchantments. He turned back to her and knelt in front of her. Hermione watched him with a weary eye, not trusting him one bit even though her heart was telling her to. He grabbed her hand and she jerked back. He looked up at her, not hiding the disappointment in his gaze.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he finally whispered, his grey eyes holding hers. He waited a second before grabbing her hand again, pulling it towards his chest gently, so that her arm was stretched. He grabbed a piece of damp cloth and softly dabbed the blood from her arm, gently cleaning the wound.

"The blade is spelled, so I can't prevent this from scarring," he explained quietly.

"I know," she finally answered. He placed the tip of his wand against the skin of her arm and whispered a spell Hermione didn't recognize. She watched the cuts heal to white marks.

"It'll hurt for a while," he continued. Hermione nodded softly and hugged her arm against her chest as he let her go, not wanting him to look at the offensive mark anymore. He looked at her and pressed a hand against her cheek, carefully rubbing his thumb across her cheekbone, desperately trying to tell her that it didn't matter to him anymore. His cold hands sent warm ripples through her body.

"Why didn't you tell them?" she finally asked, her eyes finding his and her mind trying to understand the feeling he gave her. He sighed deeply before answering her.

"I would never do anything that would harm you," he finally answered. Hermione frowned a little, not understanding what he meant.

"You never answered my question," she started. He left his hand fall down on the velvet of the sofa.

"I thought I just did," he answered, one eyebrow raised.

"Not that one," Hermione continued, feeling secure enough to pry. "The one I asked you in the astronomy tower, about all the images of you flying through my head." She watched his hands clenched into fists, making the skin on his knuckles even whiter than before. "They aren't gone, you know," she continued, unable to help herself. She needed to finally make sense of all of it, and her heart was telling her that he was the one who held the key. "I dream of you," she threaded into dangerous territory, resulting in a gasp from his mouth.

"You do?" he asked. She nodded softly. "They don't make much sense, it's just a combination of jumbled up images, but you are in all of them." She let that sink in for a moment, allowing him a second to catch his thoughts. He grabbed her face in his hands, shocking her a little.

"Hermione, I.." he started, but he never got a chance to finish that sentence, because in that moment a loud pop sounded through the room and three figures appeared in the room. Draco let go of her and pointed his want towards the trespassers, but he was outmatched. It didn't take more than a second for Malfoy's wand to fly into Harry's hand.

"Hermione," Ron gasped and ran over to her, completely ignoring Malfoy. He gathered her in his arms.

"If you ever touch her again, I'll kill you," Ron hissed at Draco before Harry threw a jinx at Draco that left him unconscious.

He woke up hours later, tied in heavy chains in a dark metal room. It took him a minute to adjust his eyes to the darkness, but when he finally did, he found someone sitting in front of him.

"I see you're finally awake." He recognized the voice of the man he had hated most his life, or at least all his time at Hogwarts.

"What am I doing here?" he asked, trying to sound firm.

"You're not the one asking the questions." Harry inched his chair closer. "We need some information." Draco smirked and shook his head.

"I reckon that's the only reason I'm still alive, right?" Harry nodded, he was never one for theatrics.

"Where is Hermione?" Draco asked. "I can't imagine a reason why I should tell you," Harry answered.

"Tell me what you know, tell me where they're holed up, tell me what Voldemort tells them, tell me everything, and then we'll see if I'll give you any information." Draco sighed. He could give Harry what he wanted, there was no reason not too. And maybe, just maybe, he'd get to see Hermione. But the arrogant and hard headed voice inside his head yelled loudly to not give them anything.

"I won't tell you anything," he spat, very nearly actually spitting. Harry shook his head.

"Then I can't help you," Harry stood and made for the door, but just before he opened it, Draco spoke.

"I'll tell her," he finally said, slowly, so Harry had time to let the information sink in, before he turned around.

"What?" he asked, causing Draco to roll his eyes.

"I'll talk to Hermione, not to you, if you want the information, you'll bring her to me." It took a second for Harry to finally respond.

"You don't get to make demands." He turned and left.

Hermione sat in the kitchen of the home Harry had taken them. It was an old house, she didn't exactly know where, but Harry told her no one lived there anymore. Ron was still fussing over her, making her food and asking her every three minutes if she was alright and if Malfoy did anything to her.

"I'm fine, Ron," she repeated, clutching her arm as to hide the scar that still resided there.

"You're not fine, tell me," he insisted.

"I already told you, he didn't do anything to me, he just brought me to his room and then you showed up," she repeated for the hundredth time.

"Well, something sure as shit happened," Harry was leaning against the doorframe. Hermione looked at him, the boy who lived. He looked weary, like she probably did. "He's asking for you," he added, although it sounded more like a sneer.

"What?" Ron gasped. "You can't send her to him," he protested.

"Of course I won't, she'll stay here and we figure out why he's asking for her." The boys continued arguing.

"Maybe he's trying to manipulate us," Ron nodded.

"Maybe he imperiused her, she has been acting odd," he added.

"Excuse me?" Hermione protested, offended both boys didn't seem to trust her.

"That is true, but shouldn't that spell have broken when I stunned him?" he asked, ignoring Hermione. They continued for a while, talking about her like she wasn't there until she had enough. She grabbed one of the bread rolls Ron had made her and threw it at both boys, hitting Ron right in the eye.

"Oi, what the hell?" he hissed, but it worked. Both boys stopped to look at her.

"I am not just some bint, I am Hermione Granger. I sure as hell am not under any imperius and I can take care of myself." She was yelling, as she knew both boys were a little scared of her when she was. "We need information, and if he's willing to tell me, than I will go talk to him." Harry walked over to her and grabbed her shoulders.

"Hermione, you can't," he whispered softly.

"Why not?" she asked and both boys grew quiet.

"He is dangerous," they both answered in unison.

"No, he isn't," she righted her shoulders, "if he wanted to hurt me, he would've done it back at the manor, he didn't." When they remained quiet, she walked out the door, determined to go see Malfoy. When she opened the door to the room they kept him, she was a little shocked at how they had left him. His hand and feet were bound with magical chains, tying him to a wooden chair, his wrists were bloody and his face was too. He had a large cut on his forehead that had covered his face in crusted blood. He looked up when she entered the room, his gaze once again catching hers. Hermione couldn't believe either Harry or Ron would do this, but war made different men out of everyone. She knelt in front of him and conjured a piece of cloth and a bowl of water. He didn't say anything when she dabbed the wet cloth against his cold skin, cleaning of the blood from his matted hair.

"Did Ron do this? she finally asked.

"Does it matter?" he asked, his voice shallow.

"It does," she finally decided. He remained quiet for a little while before nodding softly.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered.

"He seemed to have it in his head that I did something to you," Draco finally continued.

"Well, I told him you hadn't," she answered. "You asked for me," her tiny fingers unbound the chains on his wrists and ankles, setting him free.

"I'm sure you shouldn't be doing that," he quirked an eyebrow.

"I do whatever I want, and if you had wanted to hurt me, you would already have," he rubbed his wrists, feeling how sore they were after being wrapped in iron for hours, or had it been days? "Why didn't you?" He looked at her, her eyes betraying her. She was inquisitive and confused.

"Why didn't I what?" he toyed with her for a second.

"Why didn't you hurt me?"

"You know I wouldn't."

"Harry needs information," she said after a couple of minutes of silence.

"I'm sure he does."

"I need information," she corrected. "I need you to help us." He looked at her, if only she knew that he was ready to murder the entire world to protect her, she wouldn't even have to ask.

"I'll tell you everything I know," he answered, a smirk gracing his face.

"You will?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"I will." He couldn't help himself and his hand shot out to caress her cheek. He expected her to shy away from him, but she didn't.

"Okay," she sighed, not moving away from him. "Start talking."