Hermione tried to ignore Malfoy's presence in the small cell, but found that impossible. He kept moving around obviously thinking hard. She wondered how long he had been here. Obviously before school had started, but how long before school had started?
She wondered if Ron and Harry were looking for her, or if they had notified the ministry. She smiled inwardly; the minister of magic had been shocked to learn that Voldemort really was back. It had been chaos all summer and things had finally started organizing themselves out by the time school started. There'd only been one death, a homeless wizard living on the outskirts of a city in America.
Hermione could never have guessed though that Voldemort had something like this. No one could have. They probably thought she was dead.
It hit her suddenly, that she may never get out of her, that it was likely she would never see sunlight again, be stuck her with Malfoy until she-. Hermione refused to think about it. She would get out; nothing could stop her, not even the death eaters. The ministry was sure to find this underground hideout eventually. It would be hard to keep something this big secret for long.
Her thoughts stopped abruptly as a sharp jolt of pain shivered through her body. She did well to hide it, but sometimes she was afraid to move from the pain. She had never known anything like it when the death eaters had done the cruciatus curse on her. At least she wasn't dead, at least being able to still feel pain meant that she was still alive, so she would deal with it because of that.
She eased herself up into a sitting position and saw Malfoy leaning against the other wall asleep. He looked almost angelic, his eyes closed, an expression of peacefulness on his face. She studied him thoughtfully, what had made him such an awful person? Was he really an awful person? He'd seemed almost sincere in their time together. Maybe being tortured had changed him. He'd certainly been through a lot; his torturers seemed to have given him a much harder time than her. Why was he here anyway? Wasn't his father a death eater? Maybe they'd killed his father, or maybe he was somewhere down here, a prisoner like his son.
Hadn't Malfoy mentioned something earlier about a plan to get out? Apparently he had been thinking along the same lines as her. Escape and then warn the world about Voldemort's underground. He probably only wanted to get out and save his own skin, only wanted her along to help him. All Slytherins were like that, cowards at heart. The moment they got back to Hogwarts he'd be his old arrogant self, bragging to his friends about how he escaped and withstood torture. Withstood, hah, she'd seen him, moaning in the straw when she'd first got here.
Hermione immediately felt guilty for thinking such cruel thoughts, but then again Draco deserved them, or did he? Maybe he'd already paid for all of his heartlessness in his time down here. Maybe he really had changed. She was not the one to decide that.
A moment later she felt panic realizing she would probably be missing more than half the school year, whether they got out now or later. She might have to redo the whole year, maybe even two! Harry and Ron would be way ahead of her, they might even close down the school because of Voldemort and she'd never get her education! Breathing evenly Hermione forced her self to calm down. She was already way ahead of everyone else in her level, she would catch up very quickly, and they'd never close down Hogwarts, not when its headmaster was one of the few people Voldemort feared. Also, defeating Voldemort and his followers was ten times more important than getting her education, her life was more important than her education. The best thing she could do now was to survive and eventually escape.
***
Draco sat up wearily and glanced over at Hermione, she was watching him, but quickly averted her eyes seeing him look up. Draco yawned and stretched wincing slightly as old bruises complained. He was feeling much better than he had in a long time. He moved over to the water bucket and drank some then splashed some on his face.
Then he moved away back to his corner of the cell. Looking at Hermione again he felt a odd attachment to her, she was his only source to the outside world, the sole reminder of his past. He ran a hand through his dirty tangly hair and wished to escape here even more strongly. Escape before they took him or Hermione away again.
"Hermione?" he ventured.
She looked at him startled, "You called me by my first name."
"Yeah, I did," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "But I was thinking about getting out of here."
"Oh," she said, "How do you think we could pull of that?"
"That's what I need you for, you're really smart," he said, "You know way more spells than me."
Hermione looked taken aback, surprised perhaps by his compliments. Draco shrugged, "If you'd rather stay here…"
"No! No, I'll help us escape," she said, "We'd need a disguise, something Voldemort wouldn't see through right away."
Now it was Draco's turn to raise his eyebrows, "I didn't know you called him by his name."
"I realized it was silly to go on calling him You-Know-Who," she said, "And Harry, he's been trying to get us to call him that for a long time."
"Potter," Draco spat out the word, "Still hanging out with him and Weasley then?"
Hermione glared at him, "Yes I am, and if you don't like that you can just stay here and I'll escape by myself."
Draco held up his hands in defense, "Hey, hey, no criticism meant. Forgive me for insulting your friends."
Hermione gave him a suspicious look. Sometimes he seemed truly good, and then he'd say something that seemed to confirm her fears about him going back to the way he was before. Finally deciding it didn't really matter she started to discuss with Draco means of escaping.