Hermione hadn't seen Draco in days, but the noise in the mansion had died down, leading her to believe that they had suppressed his mother's disease yet again. Everything was becoming calm and peaceful, and she was getting used to doing nothing. The servants came in, bathed her, and returned her to her room. That was what her days consisted of.

She had already explored the area of her room, which wasn't all that much. There was a small bed against the wall, a dusty full-length mirror in the corner, and a wooden table with one chair. The floor was made of wood, and there were a couple of spots that she avoided walking on, for the wood felt weak there. The ceiling was somewhat high, like the rest of the house, and made of wood. There was one tiny window, so small that she would have a hard time crawling through it, especially now that she had developed a bit of meat on her bones from having regular meals.

Her brown robe was tattered, looking old already. She stood before the mirror, inspecting it. She remembered the Witches at the party that night, and the beautiful green robes they wore. How she would love to see herself in green, just once.

She stared at her robe until her eyes hurt. She wondered if there was a spell to change colors, and if she would be able to do it with enough concentration and will power. She took a reflexive look at the door. For over a week now, no one had come into her room after her initial bath in the mornings. She was fairly safe.

She sat down on the floor in front of the mirror and placed her head in her hands. She concentrated very hard on the color green, and the image of the Witches wearing their fancy robes. She did this for hours, not even noticing when the sun went down and the candles automatically lit.

Finally, she felt a jolt go through her body, as if she had been shaken very hard for an instant. She stood up and looked around, wondering if someone had come into the room without her knowing. When she finally caught sight of the mirror, she realized the jolt had not come from an outside source, but from within her.

There she stood, in a stunning emerald robe. It almost glittered in its brightness. It hung all the way to the floor, dragging behind her elegantly. It was unfastened at the top and draped down around her shoulders, looking positively breathtaking. Her hair was suddenly shiny and the curls more subtle and tame. Her skin looked flawlessly white. Somehow, she had not only changed her robe, but her whole appearance. She couldn't even believe how beautiful she was, and she reached out to touch the mirror to make sure it was indeed her own reflection she was looking at.

She whirled around, the green robe flowing around her. She giggled as she danced about the room, feeling as if she were a princess. All she needed was a crown! As if by command, a silver tiara appeared across her forehead, a diamond dangling between her eyes. She ran over to the mirror and gasped. She had never owned a piece of jewelry in her life. It was the most wonderful moment of her life.

So overcome with joy, her eyes became watery. She reached up to dry them, not wanting to ruin her newfound beauty with a tear-stained face. Thankfully, no such thing happened. She still looked as gorgeous as before. She playfully bowed and practiced other formal poses she'd seen some of the elite Witches do.

Suddenly the door to her room swung open. She whirled around in horror, her mind racing to form a spell that would undo everything, but her mind had become clouded with fear. She couldn't think of anything. Draco stood in the doorway, eyes wide in shock, staring at her.

She looked at him guiltily, already beginning to tremble. This was horrible. She would surely be tortured and killed within the week. Was it worth it? For a moment of sheer bliss, was it worth her life? She didn't know what to say to Draco. How could she explain herself? There was no excuse. She was using magic, and there was no way to cover it up.

Draco, after recovering from the initial shock, realized that the woman standing in front of him was more beautiful than anything he could have ever imagined in his wildest dreams. She was more than a woman. She was an angel. Then he reminded himself that she was still a Mudblood. A Mudblood who was using magic, somehow. He narrowed his eyes. "Were you not told that magic is forbidden for Mudbloods?" he asked coldly.

Hermione's eyes were becoming so full of tears that they overflowed. "I was told," she whispered, looking down. This was the end. Her life was over.

"How did you do it?"

She looked back up. "I just… concentrate, and form my own spells in my mind," she answered.

"That's highly illegal. You do know what the penalty is, don't you?"

"Death," she replied, her voice breaking on the word.

"Torture, then death. And not the kind of torture you're thinking of either. They don't beat you with whips and put salt in your wounds. They do things you can't even imagine. Things I can hardly imagine, and I'm a practicing sadist!"

Hermione shuddered instinctively. Why was he telling her this? She didn't want to know what would happen to her. She didn't want to have to dread it. Maybe she could come up with a spell to kill herself? She would definitely give it a shot. Anything would be better than torture.

Draco sat down on the edge of her bed, looking frustrated. "I thought you were half-way intelligent. You're a moron! Doing magic in this house?! Are you insane?!"

Hermione covered her face in her hands, beginning to sob. "I don't know! I don't know why I did it! I just… I just wanted to look like them… just once…"

"All this because you wanted to wear a bloody green robe?! If you were that desperate you should've told me! I'd have snuck one of my mum's up here and let you try the damn thing on! Good Lord! You've just signed your death warrant!"

Hermione's knees could no longer support her. She crumbled to the ground, still sobbing. The robe fell further down her shoulders, one breast nearly exposed. She didn't seem to notice. Draco stared at her, telling himself that he didn't feel sorry for her. She was stupid enough to use magic, so she didn't deserve his pity.

Hermione looked up suddenly. "You don't have to tell!" she cried.

Draco looked at her in disbelief. "What?"

"Don't tell! No one will know! Please, just pretend it didn't happen!"

"I can't do that! If anyone ever finds out, I'd get the same punishment you'll get! I can't take that kind of risk!"

Hermione crawled over to him and clutched at the fabric of his robes. "Please! I promise I'll never tell that you kept it secret, even if someone else turns me in! I'll never use magic again, I swear! Please, Draco!"

Draco turned away from her. She looked like some sort of puppy, staring at him with huge, wet eyes. "I can't risk it. I've seen what they do to people like that. They could hardly be considered human by the time they're finished! And that's before they die! I'm not about to take that chance!"

Hermione buried her face in his lap. "Please," she muttered, "I'll do anything… anything you ask…"

"You already do anything I ask," he said, "you're my slave."

"You… you said you would never touch me unless I asked for it. I'll ask for it! I'll do anything, just don't tell!"

Draco frowned. "That's not what I meant. I meant I'd never touch you unless you wanted it. This doesn't count."

"Please!" she screamed, looking up.

Draco thought for a moment, staring at her. "Give me one good reason," he finally said, "why I should risk my life for you."

Hermione's eyes widened. What reason could she possibly give him? He didn't care about her. She was a slave, nothing more. But she had to try. "I… I'm in love with you!"

Draco twitched, scooting backwards on the bed and nearly shoving her away. "Don't toy with me! I'll have them string you up in the courtyard for torture tomorrow!"

"What are you talking about?! I'm not toying with you! I'm in love with you!"

"You're lying! You said you'd do anything to save your life!"

Hermione stood up. "I'm telling the truth. The reason I wanted to wear a green robe just once… was because that blonde girl the other day… she had a green robe. All the girls you look at wear green robes. I just wanted to see… how I would look in one."

Draco was against the wall by now, staring at her with narrowed eyes. He wanted to say "You look bloody gorgeous in it!" but he couldn't form the words in his mouth. He still couldn't believe it. "Why?" he asked.

"Why… do I love you?" she asked uneasily, finally beginning to blush.

He nodded.

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out myself. You've been so cruel to me. But somehow… when I look at you, I don't see a sadistic little rich boy anymore. I see a sad, desperate man, someone who suffers everyday, just like me. I didn't know rich people could be like me."

"I'm nothing like you," he said.

"Yes you are. You're trapped here, in a life you don't want. Just like me."

"How would you know what I want?" he asked skeptically.

"I can see it on your face. Please, Draco, you don't have to accept my feelings. Just don't tell anyone about the magic. That's all I ask!"

He finally edged closer to her. He reached up a hand and touched her face. "I'm stupid for believing you, but I'll refrain from telling. At least for now. But if I ever catch you using magic again, or if you ever give me problems again, I'll go straight to my father and tell him about your magic."

Hermione nodded, tearing up again. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Draco allowed himself a tiny smile, then he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her down into the bed. "You wanted to know how you look in a green robe, right?"

Hermione looked at him nervously. "Right," she said with some hesitation.

"To be honest, I think you'd put all the witches at our parties to shame. However, I'm more concerned with how you look out of that green robe." He rolled over on top of her.

"What… what are you doing?" she asked, her voice a mixture of worry and excitement.

Draco grinned. "I'm going to make you prove that you love me."